#how was i supposed to know it wanted the masculine version

[jazzyoranges]

Harleys in Hawaii

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you’re Tara’s older girlfriend

Words: 4.5k

A/n: listen to harleys in hawaii

Warnings: i didn’t feel like editing or spell checking sorry bout that 💀, age gap (Tara is 22/23, you’re 27), drinking, kissing, fade to black sex, R is implied to dress more masculine, also Scream 6 doesn’t exist cause Anika is alive 😇

Tara has gone through 3 girlfriends and 5 boyfriends in the span of 5 months. Currently, she’s having an intervention on how and why. Well, the core four’s version of an intervention at least

“Dude, you have to teach me how to get a girlfriend” Chad begs, and Mindy laughs

“Why am I even here? You guys suck at interventions. If anything, this is the opposite of one”

This time, her sister chimes in. “We’re here because you’ve been going through partners like pairs of clothes. Why are you dating all these people?”

“I don’t know!” Tara groans “In the beginning it’s to be fun dating someone, but after a week it feels like a chore”

“Wow, never knew you of all people would have the same mindset of a frat boy” This earns Mindy a slap on her shoulder from Anika, who was cuddled into her

“Shut up Mindy.” the younger Carpenter spits out

“So you date people and drop them ‘cause they don’t give you the thrill of being in a relationship?” Chad says and everyone in the room goes silent. Momentarily, he stops throwing his tennis ball up in the air

“…Did I say something wrong?”

“Never knew you could be smart, Chad”

“Sometimes I wish we weren’t related.”

“Is that it, Tara?” Sam asks “You just want the thrill of dating?”

“When you put it that way, I guess? I dunno, I haven’t really met anyone exciting. You’d think there’d be fun people in New York”

“You just haven’t met the right person, Tara. I’m sure there’s someone for you, you just suck at looking”

“Oh, really? Where am I supposed to look, then?”

“I dunno, definitely not where you’re looking right now” Mindy shrugs, and Tara sighs at how helpful her friends are

—

You meet you coworker’s sister when her and her friends decide to have a study session at the small coffee shop you and Sam work at. You and the older Carpenter instantly clicked as friends. Sam knew you knew about the Woodsboro killings, but you knew not to trust the media entirely. After a few weeks of talking to her, you didn’t understand how Sam could be accused of such disgusting things

Your friendship solidified when you ‘accidentally’ spilled an ice cream sundae on some girl who was being mean to her. Of course you were fired the next day, but Sam left with you, opting to work at a smaller coffee shop run by a nice old man and his lovely wife

Sam considered you a good friend, and she trusted you with being around her sister. Luckily the old couple who ran the shop were kind and trusting, and let Sam’s sister and friends use the coffee shop after hours for late-night studying. It was maybe about 6:30pm when the shop officially closed, and the study session started. Sam insisted she stay by herself, but you didn’t want her to be lonely while watching her kids friends study

Personally, you thought it was far too late to study, but you also hadn’t been to school in 3 years. Soft music was playing while the group studied and you and Sam cleaned up the shop here and there

Tara tried to focus on her work, she really did. After a few glances in your direction and many “sorry, what did you say?”’s later, Mindy finally decided to comment on Tara’s behavior. I mean, could she really be mad? You were breathtaking. Your shirt hugged your arms and torso just the right way, you hand a very pretty face, most of all, you were-

“Alright, what’s up with you? You’ve been distracted this entire time”

“I’m not distracted, I’m listening” Tara lied straight through her teeth, and Mindy just looked at her in suspicion

“You’ve seemed out of it this entire study session, you okay?” Anika reached to rub Tara’s shoulder

“Uh, y-yeah” Tara turned around in her seat looking for you. When she saw you were either in the break room or the bathroom, Tara leaned in closer to the group and so did her friends

“Sam’s friend is really hot.”

“Understandable” Chad nods

“Definitely ask her out”

“Like hell I am, Mindy!” Tara whisper-shouts

You’re about to leave for the night. Gathering your jacket, helmet, and keys from your locker, you barely make it out of the break room before one of Sam’s friends calls you over

“Hey, Sam’s coworker! Are you good at algebra?

“A little above average, why do you ask? You walk over to the booth they’re studying at. You miss the glare the brunette gives to her friend

Mindy motions to Tara “My friend over here is having a little trouble, and we’re all not really good at explaining. Could you help her?”

“Also,” the twin points at each of her friends “Anika, Chad, Tara, and I’m Mindy”

You pull up a chair to sit next to Tara “Y/N, nice to meet all of you. Sam says lots of good things”

“Likewise, Sam told us about what you did for her. We all appreciate it” Anika smiles

“Those girls were assholes,” you shrug “they deserved it.” Now focusing on Tara, you met her eyes while the rest of the group fell into discussion

“So, what exactly do you need help with?”

Tara tries to listen to what you’re saying, but everything is going in one ear and out the other with your proximity to her. You make simple small talk with Tara, and she notes how the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The brunette learns you’re about the same age as her sister, you have a second job as a mechanic, and you owned a motorcycle (in which her interest was immediately peaked).

A few hours of conversation and studying later, the group decides they’re finished. They pile into Sam’s car to be dropped off at their respective apartments. Unfortunately due to a little clutter, there isn’t enough room for Tara in the car (which is surprising since she’s incredibly small, but you decide to hold your tongue this time)

“Cmon, guys, can’t you make some room?” the brunette groans

“You could ride with Y/n,” Sam suggests “I trust her to get you home”

“Yeah, I got an extra helmet in my locker, I’ll go get it” You jog back to the shop, and you’re back a minute later with a helmet in one hand, and a hoodie in the other. Your hoodie, Tara thinks

“Here, it gets cold. Is this your first time?”

“Yeah, I’ve never been on a motorcycle before…” Tara says nervously, and she has to stop herself from taking a big whiff of your hoodie around her

“No worries! If you get scared just squeeze my thigh and I’ll pull over, okay? Also, make sure to hold on tight” You put the helmet on Tara, inspecting her to make sure it’s on correctly

“Geez, it feels like I’m an astronaut” Tara laughs, flipping up the visor

“Doesn’t it? I always feel like a bobble head or something when I’m in it” You teach Tara how to get on, and soon enough you’re on the road following Sam’s car

Tara’s arms were snugly wrapped around your torso, and she was absolutely having the time of her life. The helmet she was wearing smelled like you and it was absolutely intoxicating. Not to mention how your hoodie sat comfortably on her body — almost like it was meant for her to wear. Deciding to be bold, Tara decides to hug you tighter

When you two eventually stop at a stoplight, you hold out a thumbs up, questioning if Tara is comfortable. The brunette responds with a thumbs up of her own, and the slow circles she’s making with her thumb under your shirt that leave a trail of goosebumps behind

First Sam stops at Mindy and Anika’s, then Chads. Since there’s more room in the car Tara doesn’t actually need to stay with you, but she’s practically glued to your back. The brunette decides to be greedy and hold on

A few minutes later, you two reach Tara and Sam’s apartment complex. When you come to a stop the younger Carpenter gets off first, and you follow after

“So, how was your first time on a motorcycle? Scary?”

“Honestly? Not really. I trust you won’t crash, or else Sam’ll get real mad at you” Taking off her helmet, you get the pleasure of seeing Tara smile again. She starts to take off your hoodie, but you stop her before she does

“Keep it, I already have a bunch of other hoodies and jackets at my place”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be saying it if I wasn’t sure, Carpenter”

“You’re an ass” Tara rolls her eyes and playfully hits your arm

“Nice meeting you and your friends, by the way. I’ll see you guys around” After you wave bye and hop back on your motorcycle Tara watches you leave, pulling your hoodie closer to her body

—

Study sessions at the coffee shop after closing time became more and more regular. Sometimes it’s just Sam closing up, and other times it’s just you. Tara still regrets telling the group about her very tiny minuscule crush on you, since you’re now used as blackmail to get Tara to go anywhere

“Wanna go to the movies?”

“Sorry, I have to finish an essay”

“Y/n’s gonna be there” Mindy says in a sing-song tone

“Fuck you.” Tara groans before grabbing her jacket, fully expecting to be invited for a motorcycle ride from you

At first Tara only saw you during study sessions at the coffee shop. It was the same story almost every time. There wouldn’t be enough room in Sam’s car, you’d drive Tara home, and if she was lucky you’d stop at a 7 Eleven for slushees and a snack

When Sam invites you to a game night with the group, you happily accept the invitation. With a bottle of wine in your left hand, you make some final adjustments to your outfit before knocking. Smoothing out your shirt, you hear a familiar voice behind the door

“So, are you gonna stand there or are you going to knock?” The younger Carpenter teases, and she can practically hear you roll your eyes when you scoff

“I was making myself presentable” You shrug, hearing the click of the door as Tara opens it

“Whatever,” The shorter girl laughs “You’re kinda early so you can wait on the couch or something” She takes the bottle of wine from your hands, setting down on a table

“Geez, don’t people have manners nowadays? I thought it was a given to arrive early”

“I think that’s just you being old”

“You’re mean.” Tara’s face collides with a pillow as she turns around and the brunette can faintly hear you say ‘headshot!’ in an excited voice

“Me? Mean? You just assaulted me!”

“You’ll live. Mario Kart?” You wave a second controller in her direction with the game already booted up, and Tara takes her seat next to you on the floor

The next few minutes are spent casually trash-talking each other. When you get particularly close to winning Tara shoves you to the floor, causing you to lose. A smug grin adorns her face when you throw another pillow at her

“Stop throwing pillows at me!” Tara laughs

“You quite literally shoved me to the floor ‘cause you’re not as good as me”

“Shut up, you’ve have more experience”

“Are you calling me old again?” You say in a dramatic tone, and the door rings a whole 20 minutes after the rest of the group is supposed to show up. Sam lets them in, and you wave hello. Mindy gives Tara a look you don’t recognize, but Chad quickly challenges you to another game of Mario Kart

The twin tried his best, he really did. He took the shortcuts, chose the best character, and even optimized his power-ups. But alas, his efforts were rendered useless as you casually mopped the floor with his ass. The scoreboard with your name at the top is enough for Chad to groan in defeat

“Dude, how are you so good?”

“I guess I just have more experience”

“So you can say it but I can’t?” You end up sticking your tongue out at Tara like a child

“Whatever. You guys got any other games?”

“We have Uno” Sam suggests

Oh how foolish she was.

Arguing, wine, and lots of popcorn later, you’re currently in a battle for 4th place with Tara. Fifteen minutes after Chad won 3rd, both of you insisted a 4th place winner. When you put down a plus four twice in a row, the group only groans

“Please are you two almost done?”

“It’s Uno. How about we play another game?” Chad pleads

“Absolutely not. I refuse to lose to a girl that’s basically half my height.”

“Half your height!? You’ll probably be balding by 30!”

“You take that back!” You slam a hand against the table, and your friends can’t tell if they should intervene or watch the argument play out. They choose the latter

Shallow insults are exchanged between you two and the rest of the group finally understands both of you aren’t serious. They decide to leave you two to pick up some pizza, and you’re far too busy arguing how you’re not going to go bald at 30. Really, whose idea was it to give the most competitive people copious amounts of wine?

Eventually your arguing dies down, leaving you both giggling like middle school kids when they see their crush. The absurdity of the situation paired with the wine you both drank made a very fun combo

“Sorry I said you’d bald by 30” Tara leans onto your shoulder and you lay your head atop hers

“It’s okay. Sorry I said you were half my height… even if it’s true” You smile and Tara hits your arm while suppressing a grin

“You mind if I sleep here tonight? Pretty sure I can’t drive my baby in this state”

“Your baby?”

“My motorcycle. Her name is Elizabeth” You nudge her shoulder

“You named your motorcycle?

“It’s how you create attachment, Tara. You name everything so you care more about it”

“God, you’re a weirdo.” The younger Carpenter leans into you even further

“You never answered my question”

“Hmm… I think Sam wouldn’t mind”

“But would you mind?”

“No, you’re my friend”

A comfortable silence passes between you two. Tara, half asleep on your shoulder; and you, trying to formulate a plan to get Tara in her bed. The only good idea you’ve thought of is carrying her, so that’s what you decide to do

Tara makes a sound then holds onto your shirt as you scoop her up from the couch. There’s a feeling in her stomach she can’t quite place when your arms wrap around her. You’re warm, and Tara only wants to get closer to your body heat

“Tara, honey, where’s your room?” You whisper. The pet name accidentally slips, and you hope the younger girl doesn’t notice.

Oh but she does

Tara notices and opts to bury her head in you chest, pointing in the direction of her room. She can feel her face warm up immediately

You open up the door all the way with your foot, and lay Tara down in her bed. You’re about to leave to probably sleep on the couch, but you feel a hand around your wrist and Tara mumble something sleepily

“You alright, Tar?” You bend down

“Please stay… don’t go.” The younger Carpenter whispers, and you wouldn’t be able to hear her if not your close proximity

“I’ll be in the living room, don’t worry. I don’t drink and drive”

“No, I mean stay here.”

“You… You want me to stay in your room?”

Tara nods.

“I- I don’t know, Tara.” You were hesitant to accept her invitation.

“I won’t be far, I promise”

“I don’t care you’re older than me.”

“W-What?”

“Please, you make me so happy. People my age are so dull…” Tara takes your hand in her own, playing with your fingers

“You don’t mean that, Tar. You’re drunk and tired. How about you get some sleep, hm?” You say in the softest voice you can manage, pushing away the thoughts of how badly you just want to hold Tara in your arms again

“Y/n…” Something in you shifts when the brunette says your name in her sleep-drunk state. You notice the pleading look in her eyes, and it’s difficult to imagine saying no to her

“I can’t say no to you.” You sigh, taking off your jacket before getting in bed. Tara immediately curls up against your chest like it’s the most natural thing ever and you wrap your arms around her waist like it’s second nature

“Thank you. I really like you, Y/n”

“If you end up regretting this I’ll pretend like nothing’s happened if you want”

“No!” Both you and Tara are surprised by her tone

“I- I mean no. I promise I won’t regret this. Regret… you.” She says in a smaller voice

“Do you like me too?” Tara looks up at you with hope in her eyes and your heart melts at the sight

“I don’t know, Tara. Part of me thinks this is wrong, and the other part just wants to spend time with you.”

“Ever since… Amber, you’ve helped me move on” This was the most Tara has opened up about her late girlfriend. Of course the group told you a few tiny things about her here and there, but you hadn’t heard from Tara straight up. You knew this was a very hard and difficult subject even as time continued to pas

“You don’t need to feel like you have to tell me about her, Tara. How about we sleep? You’ll have a clearer mind tomorrow” Pressing a kiss against her forehead, your girlfriend(?) smiles

“…can I wear your shirt?”

“I’m right here, you know”

“I wanna be closer to you”

“Go actually get ready for bed, Tara. I know you don’t wanna sleep with makeup on” The brunette gets up to leave but decides to double back and give you a kiss on the cheek, leaving you a subtle lipstick mark

You hate how she makes you all giddy like a teenager in love.

Getting up to ask Tara if she has an oversized hoodie you could sleep in, you’re caught in the hallway by Sam. You only notice how bad it looks you’re walking out Tara’s room with messy hair, ruffled clothes, and a noticeable kiss on your cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off and smooth out your hair a second later

“Sam, it’s not what it looks like.” You say quickly

“I dunno, it really looks like you’re fucking my sister”

“I-It’s not like that! She- I uh-“

“Listen, I don’t mind you’re dating my sister. Would’ve wished you told me, though”

“That’s the thing! I have no idea what we are” You look behind to look for Tara before turning back to Sam

“She said she really liked me, but then she’s also drunk, but then she also kissed me. What if she doesn’t actually mean it? What if she regrets this? What if-” You’re talking quickly and about to start pacing around before Sam grounds you by holding onto your shoulders

“I trust you, Y/n. You’re my friend. I trust you’ll take good care of my sister”

The older Carpenter gives you a quick hug before leaving to her own room, leaving you staring at nothing as the door to the bathroom clicks open

“Y/n? You alright?” Tara pulls you into a hug, shoving her face in your neck

“Y-Yeah, do you have a hoodie I could sleep in?”

“Mmm… I think I have one in your size” The shorter girl leads you to her closet. A few seconds of searching lands you a hoodie with an album cover you don’t recognize. Tara notices your confusion

“Tyler the creator”

“Is he any good?”

“Well duh, I wouldn’t have him on a hoodie if he wasn’t”

“Okay smart ass, no need to be mean” You feign annoyance and the brunette can only roll her eyes and drag you into bed for the second time this night

Both of you get into position again. Tara’s arms securely wrapped around your torso, and your arms that bring her closer to your neck. You decide it isn’t so bad you’re in love with Tara Carpenter

—

You and Sam meet the rest of the group at their college. The lovely older couple that ran the coffee shop insisted you two spent time with Tara. They may as well be your parents with how much they treat you and Sam like their own kin. With the rest of the day to spoil Tara, you happily jump onto her with open arms while spewing a slew of praises and compliments

Your girlfriend should probably be embarrassed at how loud your affection is, but it’s New York. Who really cares? When you’re done being yourself, Sam also gives Tara a bear hug

“So, what’re the plans, birthday girl?” Mindy asks

“Honestly? I just wanna spend time with you guys”

“How disgustingly cute. I think that’s a great idea, babe”

“Are you kidding?” Chad speaks up “The last time we all spent time together, you two were fighting for 4th place in Uno. Fourth place!”

“I think you’re being over dramatic, bud”

“You looked like you were about to flip the fucking table when Tara made you draw 12 cards”

“Like I said, stacking is a curse that makes me angry”

“I gotta agree with Chad, here” Sam chimes in “You almost killed Tara because of Jenga”

“It’s not my fault your little sister is a pathological liar and a gaslighter!” The younger Carpenter rolls her eyes

“You’re awfully childish for someone that’s so old” Your girlfriend laughs, making you look away, embarrassed

“It’s not my fault I’m competitive!”

“So, where do you wanna eat out, Tara?” Anika asks “I’ve been starving practically all day”

“Hooters.” The brunette answers almost immediately

—

“So, birthday girl, what’s it like being 23?”

“A lot like being 22”

“Noting different?”

“Well, this is the first year you’re here to celebrate with me” Tara turns on her side to face you “I guess that’s pretty special”

You copy her actions, now looking at your girlfriend

“Oh yeah? What’s so special about me being here?”

“Please, you really don’t need a bigger ego”

“Aw you’re no fun”

“I’m plenty fun, babe” Tara reaches down to the hem of your shirt, feeling the skin right above your pants

“Mhm, and what type of fun?”

“You’re such a tease.” Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. Both of you are inching closer to each other to close the gap. You blink for half a second, and Tara straddles your lap with a hungry look in her eyes and a smile that highlights her cute dimples

Diving into you, Tara kisses you with fervor and lust. Her kisses are sloppy, but you don’t really care. Currently, the only thing in your mind is Tara’s name on repeat. Both of your clothes are off in only a matter of seconds due to the brunette’s growing eagerness of wanting your fingers inside of her

“A-Are you sure about this?” You mumble in between kisses and pecks

“Absolutely positive, baby.” Your girlfriend’s ever growing wetness smears on the skin of your exposed thigh, making you sigh in delight

“If you don’t want to keep going, just tell me and I’ll-“

“Y/n.” Your head snaps up at the brunette saying your name

“I want this. I want all of you. Drill it into your pretty brain, yeah?” Tara makes an act of lightly drilling her finger into the side of your head, making you laugh

When you kiss Tara for a second time it feels different. Her lips taste sweeter and all you want to do is give her the entire world. Unfortunately you’re only mortal, so you opt to give her a few lot of mind blowing orgasms instead

—

“So, what’re your plans for the break?”

“We were actually planning a road trip to the beach this weekend to celebrate, and you’re coming”

“No room for debate, huh?” You laugh, swinging an arm over her shoulders “I’ll have to bring my truck, though. Elizabeth is 100% going”

“Sometimes I think you like her more than me”

“You may be my girlfriend, but Elizabeth is my first love” This earns you a punch to the arm via Tara. Although it doesn’t hurt much, you feign a wounded expression and place the back of your hand to your forehead

“Woe is I, for my girlfriend no longer loves me…”

“You’ll be okay” Tara rolls her eyes

“Kiss it better?”

—

“Please can we have a ride without our helmets?”

“Sam wouldn’t forgive me if we crashed and you weren’t wearing a helmet”

“Please, baby?” Tara uses her best puppy eyes, and she knows they’re working when you look away to resist her charm

“The sunset is beautiful, the back roads are empty, and I want to spend our last moments here on the beach. Don’t you want to see the view, baby?”

You sigh, looking away. This girl was going to be the death of you.

“Well after such a confession, I don’t think I’m able to say anything other than yes” Tara kisses you on the tip of your nose, making it scrunch up just how she liked it

“This is gonna be so aesthetic, babe”

“…Aesthetic?”

“You’re not that old, love”

Before getting on, you take two spare sunglasses from your leather jacket pocket and hold them out for Tara

“Aviator or round?”

“You take the Aviators, I want you to look like one of those guys from Top Gun” Tara takes the sunglasses out of your hand to place them on your face

“Geez, I look more like a biker than a motorcyclist now”

“There’s a difference?”

“I’ll teach you one day. Cmon, the sun’s setting already”

Tara truly believes she’s made it to heaven while you drive. Arms around your waist, the salty breeze, and not to mention the beautiful setting sun. This is what she’s always been craving

Exhilarated is how she’d describe being around you. The simplest touches sent shivers down her spine. The tiniest glances made Tara’s heart giddy with joy. How couldn’t she fall for you? Picture-perfect is what you were. Not boring, not simple, not easy. You were… you

With sand in you hair from previous beach endeavors and a smile wide enough your girlfriend can see just from looking at the back of your head, Tara can’t image herself anywhere but with you

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #scream #tara carpenter #scream 6 #tara carpenter scream #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #sam carpenter #anika kayoko

[isawritesshit]

thinking about geto 🤭. nsfw under the cut so minors dni.

tw: dom bf geto, gn reader, virgin/sub reader, voyeurism, masturbation, mentions of porn, mentions of spit, cum eating, etc.

you didn't know how you got into this situation. what was supposed to be just a day in with your boyfriend, suguru geto, turned into him straddling your body as you laid on his bed, watching as he stroked his cock right in front of you.

you were a virgin. he knew this, so lately, the two of you had been working you up to get more comfortable with sex instead of rushing into it all at once, which you appreciated. this is one of the ways he decided to do it.

you've watched solo male porn before, but with how embarrassed you were right now, it was almost like you've never seen a cock in your life. but you couldn't look away.

it was no secret that suguru's looks were heavenly; practically the peak male specimen, with that type of soft yet masculine male beauty that could make anyone swoon. but this version of him in front of you was so raw and visceral, and in the best way possible: the faint afternoon sunlight highlighting his sculpted body and the sheen of sweat that covered it, his hair half pulled back and messy, bare chest heaving, muscles flexing with each movement, and voice groaning so deliciously it made your own voice come out every so often as you watched.

he smiled a little as you watched his hand intently. earlier, he had you spit into his hand for lubricant, and since then, you had been focused on his ministrations, only breaking your concentration to look up at him with lidded eyes. it made him proud, being the only one that can make you like this. this little show was more for you then it was for him, after all.

you bit your lip as you watched him pump his cock in his pretty hands, taking note of how he squeezed upwards towards the tip and swiped his thumb to spread the pre-cum that leaked out. he looked so thick. you knew that if you tried to put your hand around it, your fingers wouldn't even be able to wrap all the way around. fuck.

he chuckled at your flushed face, how wide your pupils were with lust and desire. so perfect, and all for him. he used his other hand to reach down and caress the side of your face, tracing down your jaw, your neck and collarbone, your chest, before placing a hand over your heart and staring deep into your eyes. he let out a strained, low moan that set your insides on fire, and that's when you realized. he wasn't just getting of through his hand...

he was getting off to the sight of you in front of him, and you were fully clothed. it was then you noticed how much of an effect you had on him.

his noises increased, praises of i love you and so pretty leaving his lips as he shot his cum into his hand, some of it staining his underwear and sweatpants that were pulled down. a whine left your own throat at the sight, and then again when he gave you that look while holding up his cum-covered hand in front of you.

your embarrassment only grew when he held that hand in front of your lips, his eyebrows raising a little in a silent request. you stared down at it, taking in the off-white color, how thick yet sticky it was as it created little strings between his fingers. did he want you to-

suguru half expected you to turn your head, refuse him in some way thinking that it might have been too much for you. however, he felt his cock harden again when you took hold of his wrist and brought his hand to your lips.

your tongue lapped around his long fingers, humming at the taste of saltiness and something distinctly him. suguru started moving two of his fingers in and out of your mouth, your gorgeous eyes staring back up at him as he swore.

"fuck, sweetness. didn't think you'd have it in you... so good 'f me... don't suppose i'm turning you into a little slut now, do you? i don't think you mind, though..."

#isawritesshit #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gn reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #anime #yummy man

[enchantressiren]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.❞

Your first time with your future spouse/current lover

(For virgins and/or those who are having it with a virgin lover)

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

This is an intuitive reading, only pile 3 need two tarot cards from the lenormand deck.

Normal intuitive readings: @sefinaa

Average word count: 408

Author’s note,

I’ll be making an aftercare version of this. As for credit, @fantasticpoem, @notpr0g1rl and an anonymous person.

Divider

Pile 1

Your first time with your lover will be very cute and romantic. I’m feeling this romantic, red intimacy. I can see a dimly lit room with candles, specifically a yellow hue. I see rose petals near a bathtub as they spread out, showing a trail up to the bed, and then simply spread out onto the bed, inside the blanket, and on the pillow. This isn’t a honeymoon suit; I see this was currently done by your lover. I’m aware all of you are extremely insecure about not having sex and being a virgin, but you have or will have a lover who will treat you with the upmost respect and care during and after it. 

I see them wearing a suit because a majority of you are into it, and for those who aren’t, I see them having their shirt untucked and open so you can see their body. I also see them having slightly messy hair because they’re already hot and bothered by you. I see them already fantasizing about this exact moment for a week straight. They aren’t even perfectionists, but, in this moment, they are—they want you to have the best time and for you to feel comfortable with them. That’s the goal for them. 

I also see that, as you guys do have sex, they’re going to focus on the sensual part of sex. Soft, slow, and sensual sex with love bites around the earlobe and soft whispers of how you’re doing a good job. I hear a lot of breathy moments, or perhaps a lot of sexual breathing, and it feels hot around my ear. I also hear that they’re going to purposefully moan in your ear so you can feel flustered and so it’s ingrained into your brain. They want it to be a memory for you, so when you’re having a bad day, you can remember how good you made them feel. 

Another thing is that some of you read smut, so you assume you know what you’re doing and you will test it out with them, but it’s not going to work out the way you want. 

“You want to be a Dom? What a joke, sweetheart. You can’t even keep up with my energy, how are you supposed to please me, hm?”

I can feel dominant and masculine energy with them, and their voice when they’re horny is seductive as hell. I can feel my heart racing, so you will feel the same way. Excited, bothered for more, and extremely wet with them. 

Tips

Pile 2

I feel more of a rough energy with you guys. I wouldn’t say they’re going to make your body in pain during the act; it’s just.. expect a lot of hickies on your body because I don’t think they can handle it. You can set boundaries with them if you’d like too, though I see that a lot of you don’t care and some of you fantasize about it. And more people in this pile read smut books, mainly paper books, in front of your family or coworkers. I feel shameless energy. Whereas the others watch a lot of adult content that has rough and sensual sex. And your lover will notice this, or you already told them, so that’s why they will lose control during the act. 

Before you guys go fully into passionate lovemaking, they will immediately make out with you. I see you sitting on their lap, regardless of your gender, and it’s getting steamy. Lots of kissing sounds and noises. I see them grinding on you and bouncing up their leg. They will be softly grabbing your hair as they deepen the kiss. I feel like you will be sweating a bit, so your hair will be messy, and they will be using this to their full advantage. A little bit of choking here and there, nothing too painful—except if you want them to choke you hard, just ask. Don’t be shy. I’m getting a shy energy with the people you love. So don’t be shy; simply ask them, and they will. I don’t see any neck kissing, but I do see lip nibbling and their thumbs caressing your lips. 

Moving on to passionate lovemaking, there isn’t much to channel since it’s self-explanatory. I do see them pushing your face into a pillow or the bed sheets as they hit from behind, and if you’re a male, I see them either pegging you or letting you hit them from behind. I also see loud moans from you guys and grunting sounds. I hear music, so expect romantic/dirty songs to be played at a semi high volume. I can feel and see the bed shaking too, so if you have heard of people speaking about breaking the headboard during sex, that’s the vibe I’m feeling. 

 Tips

Pile 3

I don't see a lot of foreplay since you guys cannot control yourself with them and are too excited to make love with them. A word of advice: be careful with them because you will hurt them during it, but they will be too scared to say so. You will only realize it until they sob at the end. 

Moving on, your pile is filled with secrets; the both of you prefer to keep it on the low, so I’m actually feeling this is a casual or friends with benefit relationship.. or the start of it. This has happened spontaneously, hence the lack of foreplay. 

(I literally have been struggling for the past 2 weeks to channel your reading since the both of you are incredibly private, so I have decided to use two tarot cards in lenormand). 

The moon and the scythe. 

Your first time with your virgin partner will be filled with secret desires and fears. Both of you are going to be scared of what is happening, and why did both of you decide having sex was the logical choice. But as both of you know, it is also the right choice, hence the spontaneous decision. I can feel the fear in both of you as you make out very roughly and very passionately. A lot of moaning and whimpering at the same time and a lot of HEAT are portrayed. I hear that some of you are actually virgins hiding underneath this exterior of “I’m experienced” from fear with your last partners. There will be a lot of emotions going through both of you: excitement, fear, nervousness, and jealousy and/or anger. None of you want to be left behind after this, so none of you are going to go full-on into the passion. 

Neither of you even know that the other is a virgin, since you both are incredibly reserved. Even some of you open books; you have hid this from other people and have told them you aren’t a virgin due to vulnerability, trauma, and fears. And some of you feel like this situation will be a mistake or something that’s not meant to be, but it is, or else you wouldn't have stumbled upon this post or this pile. And if it was not truly meant to be, then I wouldn't have struggled to find out how both of you would act with each other. 

Tips

#18+ tarot #free tarot readings #tarot reading #pick a photo #collective reading #tarot community #channeled message #free tarot #PAC #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #divination #tarot deck #tarot readers of tumblr #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot witch #witchy #witches of tumblr #witch community #witchcraft #oracle #spicymessages #18+ only #18+ post #18+ content #18+ minors dni

[prince-liest]

Sorry, joining the trans!Vox feelings trenches. Because it's just been making me think about how Vox is almost performative even through his sincerity. It's the acting of genuine feelings, everything is bombast and larger than life with him. And that spirals into his gender. Because Vox is intensely masculine in a way that can almost be.... camp is the wrong word but there's an element of gender performance there. Like, the man wears pinstripe trousers even in a casual setting. It is an intensely upper-middle class masculinity and it's just really interesting in the context of Vox being trans because it feels so right for him but to an extent, it's something he had to develop for himself. I don't know, this isn't very coherent.

ok but the idea of vox just being extremely Performative Fifties about gender in life was exactly where my mind went when the mention first came up that he didn't realize he could Do That until he got to hell. Exceptionally Perky Republican Kitten Newscaster Vox. if you're going to do something you are going to do it well and also do it all the way and more than anyone else does. that is the vox motto. -🍓

Combined two asks into one, here, because: Yes!! This is exactly how I see it. Vox in life is the performative fifties feminine version of the current Vox we see in death, and there is a lot to be said for the way that both of those personas are a show he puts on. His public-facing persona is different from his managing-Valentino persona is different from his "Holy shit, the Hazbin Hotel is about to get wrecked!" feet-kicking excitement, and all three of those are him, but none of them except maybe the brakes-disabled excitement about Alastor getting his ass kicked involve him taking a break from masking. He's A Lot by default but he also is A Lot on purpose.

There are trans characters that I would write as trying their utmost to not pay attention to existing in their body pre-transition, and there are trans characters that I would write Performing The Assigned Gender like they're fucking gunning for an award, and Vox falls into the latter category. I don't think he was perfect at it - he's not perfect at being Vox the CEO, either - and I imagine that why he wasn't perfect at it niggled at him rather intensely in ways that probably bothered him way more than the moments such as when he drops the affable business partner persona to shake Val by the lapels... because it wasn't just him losing his temper or getting obsessive, it was him feeling fucking wrong in a way that made him sick, and not understanding why.

Which is to say, figuring out his transition shit after death absolutely made him like 5x more insufferable because that's about when he starting using the confident masking and meaning it. He went from "this is the person I'm supposed to want to be" to "this is the person I actually want to be (note: still an asshole)."

#ask #personal #Anonymous #strawberry anon #combining two asks into one #hazbin hotel #vox #trans vox #666 live on air #my writing #hello I finished my drive to my mom's house #got a lavender foam matcha latte during a restroom stop at sbx it was v good I recommend #but since that + an apple was my lunch it is time to EAT DINNER MADE LOVINGLY BY MY MOTHER <3

[anlian-aishang]

For the practice drabble thingie, Sweat/Scent kink? 👁️ 👁️

I just. k n o w. I have this headcanon that Levi always uses baby/scented powder to avoid sweating so much on expeditions/missions, but maybe one day he just runs out of it or rushes out of his room, so Levi gets flustered or self-conscious for the rest of the day or smth, idk I don’t think he would smell **that much**, but… still, he smells pretty masculine, yknow?👁️👁️

Tags: levi x reader [mutual pining], sfw [but fetish-based material], sweat & scent stuff, canonverse, gn!reader Word count: 2700 A/N: Holy hell, thank you, this is exactly what I wanted. nsfw sequel is in the works <3

It was his fucking day off. 

Levi was the most cautious when it came to anticipation. Sights no one should have to see had scarred him to the point of learning: if you never got your hopes up, nothing could let you down. That thought rained on most of his parades, but he supposed there was little letdown to be had when it came to the likewise little things. On returns from expeditions, he allowed himself to look forward to the removal of his heavy gear and tight belts. When the smell of fresh-baked bread wafted through the barracks, he let his tongue salivate and his stomach sing. Today would have been his first day off in - he couldn’t even remember - god knows how long. Last night, his stagnant stoicism seemed to float away, head in clouded daydream of how to make this day perfect.

But some days weren’t meant to be perfect.

Instead of birds chirping and the first rays of sunlight that Levi anticipated, it was a series of harsh knocks at the hour of indigo sky that woke him up. Levi startled out of sleep, snapping up with a breathless gasp.  

In hindsight, maybe he should’ve said nothing, maybe then they would’ve left him alone. However, being woken suddenly, though a common occurrence, almost always meant disaster in the Scouts. His voice cracked a barely audible “W’What?” No response. Levi coughed and cleared his throat, the return of his scathing tone, “What?”

The knob swiveled. His door creaked. In the shadows of dawn stood a domineering, a commanding, six-foot figure. The leisurely pace with which he entered the room conveyed that there was no life-or-death emergency, and thus no good reason, for having barged in here on his day off. Levi rolled his eyes and scowled, “I didn’t say ‘come in.’”

Erwin ignored his remark and instead cut to the chase. “Supply transports were raided in Trost.”

His mind already set in vacation mode, it was remarkable how quickly his knowledge of the restock had left him, “What?”

“Tug-of-war with the Garrisons and MPs, scouring over the leftover scraps of the materials that were supposed to be.”

“The hell do the MPs need anything for?”

“I’m headed to the capital to find out.”

Too tired to think - let alone attempt - to disguise his confusion. Levi’s brows arced, lips parted as he tried to piece together what the hell this had to do with him. When it dawned, his trademark pout revived. 

“...No.”

“So you’ll take my stand, running morning drills in -” Erwin checked his pocket watch - “twenty minutes.”

“I’m off today.” Levi refuted. “Get Miche or Hange to do it.”

“They’re coming with me.” Erwin’s eyes were dead set, nearly offended, don’t you know I’ve thought of this already? “Unless, of course, you want to make the trip.”

To yak with the higher-ups? He would sooner crawl through mud.

Though he was given a choice, he took pity at his situation: “Bullshit…” Levi cursed beneath his breath, his version of whining.

Impatient, Erwin tapped his foot, “Are you going to get up or would you like to sit here and talk about our feelings?” The commander’s voice was starkly monotone, despite the sarcasm dripping in his statement.

Levi could play that card, too. “Are you going to leave or are you just here to watch my bare ass roll out of bed?”

Right. Erwin turned on his heel, door slammed in his wake. 

His impulse was to throw his head back on his pillow and an arm over his face, but twenty minutes - he didn’t even have the time for that. Levi bunched his sheets in his hands, so angry that his fists trembled, and swiveled his legs over the edge of his bed. A pang of nausea and a sharp headache, his body was pissed at him for the violent disruption of his sleep cycle. Levi held his forehead in hand and shook, blame eyebrows, not me. 

Levi’s limbs felt heavy, like he had just come indoors from a rainstorm. Clouds of colorful swears and harsh grunts propelled him through his morning routine. A three-minute shower, trimming his bangs, toothpaste and mouthwash followed by tea. One of many identical uniforms was laid out on his dresser, but before that…

From head to toe - undercut nape, under the arms, the shelf of his pecs, between his thighs, and finally his feet - Levi always applied a handful of drying agent. At this time of year, headquarters could seriously reek, and Levi refused to contribute to that filth. Pressing his lips together and stifling a yawn, he turned the container upside down. Lips parted, though, when nothing fell out. 

Shake. Shake shake.

A blockage, a clump, maybe? But there was no sound. The slightest of twitches in his fingers as Levi delicately, anxiously, twisted off the cap and peered inside. 

That’s right. He had made a mental note yesterday, that part of his day off would be dedicated to visiting the market, buying tea leaves, some new briefs, and his astringent powder - all items he was too mortified to order through the Corps. Given the thieving that had just happened, it was not like those supplies would’ve arrived anyway, but now, he would not have the freedom to go out and get them. 

With the jar completely open, he considered a few shakes in vain, but the bottle was so empty that he could see the reflection of his dark-circled eyes in the bottom of it. Levi allowed himself a heavy, exasperated sigh as he set the empty vessel back on his bathroom countertop just to loudly smack it into the trash can. Fucking shit. 

At least he had showered, but peering out the window and onto the training grounds, he could already see waves of heat radiating off the pavement. Come noon, it would be far worse. Clock ticking, for now, his only solution was to cut down on layers. It was then that he realized how little leniency the uniform lent. Gritting his teeth, Levi reluctantly left his top drawer shut, forgoing his undershirt and underwear. Walking past his mirror, his reflection caught his own eyes: his ivory skin barely yet noticeably peeking through the buttons of his grey shirt. Goddammit, he ripped the brown, canvas coat off its hanger and crossed it tight across his chest. To the harmony of his soles on wooden floor, his inner voice melodized: Could an outfit be both breathable and modest?

Levi could not bring himself to abandon his cravat, so instead of tying it beneath his collar, he let it sling out his back pocket, at the ready to grasp for when he needed to wipe his sweat away. That moment was inevitable, but he preferred not to think about it. He ran his fingers through his hair, base of his hand lingered on his widow’s peak, grinding pressure away like a mortar and pestle. Whatever, he tried to assure himself, as long as no one was around… 

At first, he thought he might manage. If they got close enough, they would surely notice the glimmer shining upon his skin. However, by terse orders and points of his fingers, he had maintained a perpetual distance from the hoard of trainees. He was more of a hands-on kind of teacher, opting to join them as they ran laps or learned to grapple through trees. Today, though, he was standing in the shade several yards from the action. If anyone gave him shit for lazying aside, he had an excuse in that he wasn’t even supposed to be on-call today anyways. However, perhaps because he looked particularly irritable and scary, no one dared question his bystanding.

Then came you.

“Levi?”

It was the first time you had ever seen startle on the captain. A simultaneous, steep flinch in each of his shoulders. Hairs stood on end, he whipped his gaze around, “What? What’re you doing here?”

The sight of panic on someone so fearless, it caused you to fret by proxy. “I - I uh…” You had never second-guessed him before, you had never had to. “I’m covering for -”

“Erwin?” 

You knit your hands behind your back, a sheepish grin, “He said you’d need help. You know, given the heat…”

Levi crossed his arms and bit the inside of his cheek. How shitty could that oaf be? The truth was that this heat was getting to everyone, yet in his fluster, Levi was sure that not only Erwin knew about his secret susceptibility, but that he had spilled it to the last person Levi wanted to know. No words seemed adequate for response, so instead, he kicked his foot against the barrack wall, leaned back, and deferred to silence.  

Something was off, your eyes darted in search for it. His cheeks had been tainted a light red. Luckily, you chalked it up to the temperature, though Levi knew that was not the sole factor. His hair was slicker than its usual light-and-airy allure, you figured he had just gotten out of the shower. That was true, but this damp was sweat, not soap. Your gaze started to descend down his body, and on the way, you noticed it: no cravat. 

A dog without a collar. A missing puzzle piece. Mildly irksome yet disproportionately intriguing. It was like he had read your mind, the mocking timing with which he reached back into his pocket and lifted the cloth to his forehead, sighing and swiping. After a couple wringing flicks of his wrist, he folded it and shoved it inside the lining of his tan jacket. His left hand tucked it away, hidden, while his right hand lifted the coat away from his chest, granting him the space to do so. Again, his own state snagged his attention - the dark, drenched patch of fabric at his underarm jumped out like a bug on a wall. Fiercely, he snatched his jacket shut again, praying to whatever was out there that you had not seen. 

And though you had not seen the soak of his shirt, his odd behavior was garnering more and more of your attention. Cruelly, that made him sweat even more: not only the sun’s rays, but the blaze of your stare burning onto his skin. He cursed the thickness of his leather boots, the ODM gear that strapped his clothing tight to his skin, the turn of events that had brought you to this moment, his stupid genetics, and his even stupider feelings for you. Thoughts spiraling, humidity could mess with him in ways that titans could not.

If you thought hard about it, you may have realized that his humidity induced the same haze in you. Bangs glued to his forehead. Chest rose high and fell deep - combined with his light panting - made your brain boggle. Now and then, a clear bead of sweat would fall from his temple, down his jawline and neck, before disappearing down his collar - where you noticed that his top button was uncharacteristically undone. 

The loud pop! as he uncorked his canteen broke both of your thirsts. Head tilted far back, Adam’s apple deliciously bobbed as he gulped down his water. Lips absentmindedly fallen, your eyes drank as he did. 

Levi recognized, pretending that he hadn’t noticed your stare had thus far failed to shake it. He scoffed internally: someone could use some self-awareness, he was literally dripping with it. With a straight-on side-eye, he maintained eye contact as he gradually lowered the canteen from his lips, only to thrash it and splash it upwards into his own face. Still, you gaped like an idiot. Finally, Levi decided: if you were going to be this indulgent, he would be, too. Maybe then, you’d realize. Levi thumbed a leaking drop from the corner of his mouth. After briefly sucking the digit dry, his tongue snuck between his lips to slowly lick them clean. 

Stone-cold steel eyes and his soft pink tongue - that was what it took to break your concentration. Immediately, you snapped your gaze down to your toes and silently mouthed sorry. 

Despite the heat, shivers somehow managed to seize his figure. With your gaze averted, you thankfully missed them. However, when you no longer had your sight to rely on, other senses instinctively took over. Particularly, scent: aged sandalwood, burnt charcoal, bitter tea. On the training grounds, these smells did not come naturally. And if it were anyone else, you may have cringed at the combination of scents, but upon realization of the one and only source of this musk, you felt your middle warm with inexplicable satisfaction. 

Meanwhile, he was squirming: fuck, how badly he wanted to hit the showers. If Erwin had left this assignment to him, he had every right to leave it to the next person. The thing was, that next person was you, the blinking, doe-eyed, fresh promotion who hardly knew their blades from their gas. If you were anyone else, he could see himself saying: take this cash, head to the square and stop at this stand, buy the tallest bottle they have and bring it back to me. Say a word, you’re dead. 

But you were the entire reason he strove to keep this secret under wraps. To give you such orders would essentially be a confession, erasing the whole point. Between a rock and a hard place, Levi stood frozen in fever. 

The air was thick with moisture and silence. With each breath, the memory of that canteen escapade and his intensifying aura seemed to suffocate you. Internally, he was simmering over how to shoo you away from his disgusting sorry state. On the other hand, you were parsing over how to excuse yourself without being rude. 

The 10:00 bell rang, you used it to craft a feigned excuse, “If you’ve got things under control -”

“I do.” In some ways, he did. In others, absolutely not. 

“- I’m supposed to help mess out with lunch.”

Levi knit his brows, seemed unlikely, but he would not object. With a slight flick of his head, his gesture released you from post and encouraged you inside.

At the door frame and with his back turned, you could not help but take one last look. At his last end and assuming you had departed already, he finally shouldered that Scouts jacket off, revealing his light-grey button up having turned dark with his sweat. His fist clutched his collar and fanned ferociously, allowing his skin to breathe. Inaudible to the other, you both simultaneously reprieved, “Fuck me…”

At 11 on the dot, Levi and the platoon of morning athletes were in the cafeteria line. So what if it meant they called it quits prematurely? Inside, no one was complaining. Levi was relieved that he did not find you there, hopeful that you were in your room avoiding heat stroke, and oddly satisfied to have correctly suspected your “cafeteria-duties” bluff earlier. 

Levi looked like he had been rained on then dunk-tanked. At least, that was how his squad put it, jeering and elbowing, “What happened to you out there?”

They didn’t want to know. He didn’t want them to know. Most of all, he would rather forget this day ever happened. He took his steel tray and made for his room to eat in private - but more importantly, to shower again.  

The venture back to his quarters seemed to drag - maybe it was because the dampness of his clothes had weighed him down, or maybe it was because the empty, lone quiet of the halls allowed his consciousness to echo loud and clear: humiliating, huh? 

He could not deny that it was fucking humiliating, but for as scathing as the memory of that embarrassment was, the recollection of your rose-colored stare was just as impactful. All along, he had feared that if you witnessed his weakness to heat - more so the sweat and stench that came with it, it would have sent you running the other direction. Self-doubt suggested: they did end up running, though. That mess-hall excuse, them being them, they were probably trying not to offend you as they took cover from your reek. Self-confidence objected, but remember the way they looked at you? Don’t play dumb. You know that look anywhere. They like you - and hell - maybe they liked it.

On his doormat, a tall white bottle and a handwritten note confirmed the latter.

Seemed like you were missing something… …not that I think you need it. - (Y/N)

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #oneshot #request #weeeeeeeeeeeee #2023 #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #fluff

[melody22222]

hi, how are you doing? If is not a bother can you make a yandere ex fuckboy x insecure reader, she is insecure of his past and the girls he used to stay with before they start dating and is terrified of him cheating on her, that bothers the yandere a lot and he goes to the extreme to prove to her that he doesn't want anyone else.

Unveiling Love

Male Yandere x Insecure!Fem reader

A/n: I'M SO SO SO SO SORRY I SWEAR, I was suppose to post your request like a week ago but our WIFI was literally off for A WEEK. I was literally in a living nightmare. Oh my god... but I'm back, and I'll write every request- God, a whole week without WIFI...Just imagine... ugh need Patrick Bateman hands on my neck right now😔.

Word count: 3k

This is like a rip off of Zane's one shot I did, but you never know.... they could be friends, brothers, work friends, hell... (Maybe even Zane's partner in crime.)

---

You find yourself in the bathroom for the third time, splashing cold water on your face in an attempt to calm down. And each time you do it, you hope that the sensation will help ease your racing thoughts and bring a sense of tranquility.

You were worried, scared, anxious. You stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing the bedroom door with growing unease. Your head throbbed, thoughts swirling as fear consumed you.

It’s midnight and your boyfriend still hasn't come home yet. He told you he’s going to be late today which was unusual.

You flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the soft pillow and letting out a sigh. For the past 3 hours, all you did was overthink about your boyfriend, even though you knew he would be late. You couldn't help but worry, so you even called him.

‘Sweetheart, you know I’ll stay at the office till midnight, I’ve told you.’

‘I know, I’m just checking if you are…okay.’

You couldn’t stop thinking about his words. When you were on the call, you pushed the phone closer so you could maybe hear any background noises but there was nothing. That still didn’t reassure you. You were afraid that maybe…just maybe, he’s with someone. 

You’ve been with your boyfriend for almost a year now, everything seemed to be great until you asked him about his past, you were just…curious, that’s all…

When he told you he doesn’t know, that he slept with so many other women in the past that he lost count, your heart sank deep, very deep. Till that day, you slept every night, overthinking. It’s been killing you and you never told your boyfriend about it. You’d ask him questions here and there, but he doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual with you lately.

But you were grateful and truly happy to be with someone who loves and adores you…loves you a little too much. You were still in fear mode.

You laid on the right side of the bed, still thinking. You grab the plushie that was laying next to you, it was a plushie of your boyfriend. Your boyfriend gave it to you so whenever he’s away, you’ll just hug the mini version of him that he gave you. The same hair, the same eye color, the same fashion style. 

You wish that he was never away

You had enough. Your cries burst out of anger, you threw the plushie that you've been hugging for the past 10 minutes across the room.

‘Stupid, stupid. Stupid.’

Your cries slowly escalated, you buried your head on the pillow again. You just wanted all the pain to go away. You suddenly hear the door open fast, making you startle. You immediately knew who it was and quickly wiped your tears away. 

You didn’t want him to know you’ve been crying literally everywhere for god knows how long, the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen, the foyer, to a point you couldn’t cry anymore.

“Darling, I’m home.” 

You heard a masculine voice announced. You turn to face him and cheerfully smile, hoping he doesn’t notice your red and sore eyes. You didn’t even hear the front door open, and all that because of your cries.

“Ezra, you’re home.” Still smiling, you’re so glad that he’s back.

Ezra places his brief case carefully on the floor and walks closer to you. He hovered on top of you and began to kiss you, making you giggle in the kiss. You placed your arms on his shoulders.

“God, I missed you so much, princess.” He says between the kiss, he breaks the kiss and goes to your cheek and jaw, planting small pecks.

“I missed you too.” There was still some raspiness in your voice when you spoke. Ezra backed his head a little so he could look at your face clearly.

His smile slowly disappears when he sees your sore eyes, “Why are your eyes so red, baby? Have you been crying?” He brushed his thumb against your eyes, making you deliberately blink.

‘Shit.’ You thought. You didn’t expect him to say that.

“Oh ummm, I- uhh, a lot of… a lot of sand went through my eyes like right now when I opened the balcony before you came, it’s so windy.” You awkwardly laughed, “I’m glad you are home.”

‘God, please let him change the subject. Please.’

Ezra stared at you down with a blunt stare, not convinced at whatever you just blabbered about, he knew something was up and that made you gulp nervously.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, you took the action on your own before he says something. “So, how was work? A lot of work tonight I see.” You said bubbly as if you weren’t just a crying mess a few moments ago.

“Work was great, and I assume everything is great as well with you and your new friend sand, who seems to like your eyes, a lot.” He said in a stern tone.

You knew at that moment that he already found out. You just simply gave him a soft smile and looked down at his chest, avoiding his stare.

“Hmmm…” Ezra hummed as he got off of you. He walks to the desk, opening one of the drawers. He takes out a…CD? You watch him place the CD on the old gramophone that was sitting on the desk. You heard an old 90s song ‘There! I’ve said it again’ By Vaughn Monroe playing in your ears.

“Ezra…what are you doing?” You awkwardly laughed again. He ignored your question and walked towards you again. He stares down at you and smiles. Out of nowhere, he grabs your hand and jerks you up, making you stand up. 

You give him a confused look but he doesn't say anything to your lost expression as he grabs your hand and places it on his shoulder then he puts his hand on your back. 

You both had 2 free hands, they waited for you both to hold them together. He took your hand as both of your free hands finally met, together. He moved his body slowly, he circled you across the room.

You giggled again, “Ezra, you know that I’m very, very terrible at dancing.”

“Shhh,” Ezra silenced you with a finger on your lips. “I got you.”

He turned elegantly with you, his body in tune with the slow music making you stomp on his expensive leather black shoes but he didn’t seem to mind. There was some sort of harshness on him that you couldn’t place your finger at, but you were too busy trying not to stomp him again. You couldn’t feel relaxed. 

The warmth between the two of you grew more powerful by the second. Your heartbeat was growing steadily along with it. You kept your gaze on his muscled chest, averting his strong gaze. Ezra was staring deep into your soul, but still kept a smile on his face.

“You know how much I love you, right?” You suddenly hear him say.

You nodded surely and let out a small, ‘mhm.’

The warmth once spreading in your chest was now going cold, sinking down to your stomach.

Ezra guided you across the room as if you were in a dream. He kept his eyes on you, yet still, he knew exactly where to take you. Every moment, every angle seemed to be planned in advanced

You still couldn’t keep up with him, you stomped him again. You looked up to him, meeting his strong gaze. “Sorry…” Mumbling, you gave him a clumsy smile.

“Let’s go to the balcony, I wanna get some of this wind too.” Ezra spoke.

Your eyes slightly widened, “Umm-”

Ezra didn’t let you continue as he strolled towards the balcony door, hand still around your back. He slowly opened it and led you outside. A gentle breeze of coldness hit your warm skin that made you relax a bit.

“Oh just feel that strong wind, making our hair fly.” He said in a sarcastic tone.

There was no strong wind, there was no sand going through our eyes. There was nothing, just the night sky that was brimming with bright stars and the moon.

The music was still playing from inside but it got muffled as Ezra closed the balcony door. You both stood on the railing, there was some silence but you thanked god that there was some music that interrupted the silence, even if it was muffled.

Ezra placed his arms on the railing, bending over a little. He looked up in the sky, mesmerized by the glowing stars.

“Look at the sand princess, hitting directly in my eyes. I think the sand also likes me too” Another sarcasm escaping from his lips.

You kept your eyes down like a child getting scolded by their mother.

He didn’t say anything afterwards. You turned your head slightly away from him, pretending to look at the tall and thick trees.

“Oh my god princess, so much sand. My eyes are so red.” He put his fingers on his eyes, pretending to get dust out.

“Ezra I-” You turn your head on his side.

“Why did you throw the plushie on the floor, Y/n?” His voice became stern, turning his body in your direction as he removed his arms from the railing.

You didn’t know what to say, you just looked down.

“Look at me.” He came closer to you.

You gave him a quick glance in his eyes and looked back down again.

“Come on, I know something is wrong whenever you throw me away. What is it, baby?”

The moment he said that, your eyes got watery from the tears that started forming in your eyes. 

“E-Ezra..” Your voice quivered when you looked up at him.

You rapidly wrapped your arms around his waist, you buried your face onto his chest as you sobbed louder.

“Oh, baby…” He said in such a soft tone. Ezra followed your action, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hand on the back of your head, “Shhh, it’s okay.” 

Ezra’s comfort relaxed you a bit but still didn’t stop you from crying against his chest. You clutched tighter around him.

You wished that you’d stay like this and feel his warmth forever, you knew you weren’t gonna get out of this. You were scared to confront him, scared to tell him what’s been bothering you lately because you thought it’s childish and it will make him angry.

“Baby, tell me. Tell me what’s wrong.” He removes your head from his chest so he could see your face streamed with tears clearly, which has been wetting his tie and dress shirt with your tears.

“I-...” You couldn’t speak because of the uncontrollable hiccupping. You were a slobbering mess, you felt utterly embarrassed, you felt weak in front of him.

“Come on, sit down.” Ezra breaks the hug and leads you slowly to a chair on the balcony, you sit down on the dark-wooden chair. You didn’t expect him to get on his knees right in front of you. He looks up to you and cups your cheek.

“Deep breaths, princess.” He tries to calm you down. You take 3 heavy breaths, he strokes your thigh with his other hand, helping you a bit.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He repeats his words.

You managed to calm down after a few moments. The hiccupping stopped, but your face was wet with tears. Ezra stops stroking your cheek and begins to wipe all the tears away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks tenderly. You looked down at him. He was still on his knees. You both locked your eyes together.

“Ezra I… I need you to be honest with me.” You licked your chapped lips.

“Honest about what?” He asked, confused.

You took another deep breath. 

“Today, you told me you were going to be late…” You paused a bit.

“Yeah? I was preparing all the papers. Tomorrow, a lot of big and very important clients will be coming.”

He was still confused.

“Did you really…did you really prepare whatever papers, or did you go out with someone?” You slightly bite your lips, growing more nervous.

“What?” He widened his eyes.  “No- no..no? Absolutely not, why would you think like that princess?”

You whined a little, covering your face with your hands, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sweetheart, don’t...” He removes your hands, “It’s okay. Why would you think that?”

“I just- I don’t know I-”

“Is that why your eyes were red when I entered the room? And why you throw the plushie on the floor?”

You gave him no answer, looking down full of embarrassment.

“Sweetheart…I’m madly, insanely, extremely, foolishly in love with you, can’t you see that? I forgot that women existed when I first laid my eyes on you.” He chuckles slowly.

“But… everytime we go out, there are multiple gorgeous women around you.” You spoke down to him

He squeezes your hand, “Really,” Ezra chuckles softly again, “I haven’t noticed.”

“Stop Ezra, you know what I mean. Your…” You slightly groaned, “Your exes.”

“What about them?”

“It’s just… it’s not just the exes Ezra, all the women in the past with you. I feel like…you wanna go back to that.”

“Princess, I do not give a single fuck about any of them anymore, I have only got my eyes on you, darling. 

 He sighs, “Listen to me, listen to me very closely.”

He looked down a bit before speaking, “I know I’ve been a whore in the past. I slept with thousands of women, just sleeping with them. But I’ve never felt a single clear identifiable emotion for them. It was just sex.”

He pauses a bit, turning his head on the left side and licking his lips.

“Love wasn’t something I believed in Y/n, all this Romeo and Juliet lovey goofy shit. All I wanted was just satisfaction from other women. They come in the night, filling my satisfaction. In the morning, they are gone. Just like that.”

“I have never felt any lovey dovey shit before with any women. But god, the moment I laid my eyes on you. I didn’t just fall in love with you Y/n, I flew.”

“You have no idea how much you changed me, like every woman I met, I forgot about all of them because all of my thoughts are filled with just you. “

“I knew I’d make you mine, and only mine when I saw you. You don’t understand how much I love you, that I’d kill for you.”

He stands up, taking both of your hands in his.

“Come here, stand up.”

You followed his order, standing up. His hands were still gripping yours as he led you to the railings. He wraps his arms around you from the back, placing his chin on your shoulder.

You were caught off guard, You didn’t really expect that at all. Your thoughts ran miles around your head, doubting his love. 

Doubts flooded your mind as you questioned whether his words truly reflected his love for you.

“You’re all I can think about… I’d kill every single girl in the past to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled to yourself as soon as he said it, thinking he was just being dramatic like usual.

He gently releases his embrace and steps in front of you, his hands resting on your flushed cheeks.

“I love you so much, I love you so so fucking much, more than anything in this fucking world.”

He leans in, planting tender kisses on your face - your cheeks, nose, lips, and jaw. You can’t help but giggle with your face squished in his palms while he kisses you.

“And there’s that smile that I love to see. You’re so beautiful…” He whispers those last few words, pulling you closer and pressing your body against the balcony railing, his lips trailing down to your neck.

“Ezra-” A muffled whimper escapes your shaky throat as your hand grips the railings tightly.

“I love you...” He gently kisses your neck, “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you so much.” And another kiss. He kept kissing your neck, saying ‘I love you’ with each one, leaving you all giggly but shocked at the same time.

The crying mess you pulled finally faded away.

“Come on, let’s go shower…” He walks backward, his face still buried in your neck, planting hungry kisses that leave small hickeys. 

The tension was slowly getting hot and steamy. The looped music got unmuffled and ringed through yours and Ezra's ears as he opened the balcony door.

He leads you to the bathroom, opening it. You glanced towards the sink, images of you shedding tears on it flashing in your mind. But You didn’t have any time to think of anything anymore because of Ezra’s distraction.

He closes the door behind you, letting go of you. His voice was low and commanding. “Take your clothes off for me, princess,” He murmurs. 

Reluctantly, you comply, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness as you slowly remove your shirt. Your gaze drifts downward, avoiding the intensity of the moment, as you become acutely aware of your boyfriend undressing before you.

He took his coat and tie off, along with his dress shirt. You finally took the rest of your clothes except your underwear. Nervousness took over you at how Ezra was staring at your nakedness. You slowly looked down and slid down your underwear, you suddenly heard Ezra’s heavy breath as he took off his belt with his pants.

The atmosphere grew hotter as both of your clothes were discarded, building up an electric tension. The intense stare Ezra giving you amplified the thrill. You could hear his deep breaths and quiet groans because of how silent the bathroom was.

He walks towards you and pulls you closer, his desire fueling his every move. With a passion, he kissed you deeply, evoking a whimper of pleasure from your lips. He leads you to the glass shower backwards, turning on the faucet as water cascades over both of you.

His tongue slipped on your mouth, making you gasp a little. He starts exploring inside you as he grips you tightly. You opened your eyes and were met with his charcoal grey ones, there was some desire filled in his gaze you couldn’t catch.

Suddenly, he pushes you gently into the glass shower wall. You let out another slight gasp at his unexpected action. His mouth was still devouring yours. He smiles blissfully, Ezra’s hand trails down your body, reaching to your sensitive spot.

“Let me show you just how much I love you, princess.”

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

Wait...before you go...pick something to do with Ezra while music playing in the background, you have multiple options. (Just an idea I thought it would be cool.)

1- Have a hot and messy make out with Ezra while West Coast by Lana Del Rey playing in the background (Sped up version, best part, Ofcccc)

Song: West Coast - Lana Del Rey

2- Have a slow make out that's filled with passion and love with Ezra while Lovers From The Past By Mareux (Slowed version) is playing in the background.

Song: Lovers From The Past (I WANT TO BE JUST LIKE YOU~ BUT YOU GAVE YOURSELF AWAY~)

3- Have a slow dance with Ezra BUT it's actually very fast, you both have to dance speedily with the music, while Imitadora By Romeo Santos is playing in the background. (Best part, very sped up.)

Song: Imitadora By Romeo Santos

4- Just imagine Ezra in a song edit in his Valentino Couture suit while The Lost Soul Down By NBSPLV (Slowed down version.) playing.

Song: The Lost Soul Down By NVSPLV

5- Just Ezra and you driving around the city as he teases you playfully, dancing smoothly a bit, singing and hitting his steering wheel playfully in his seat with his song blasting on his phone while you are sitting next to him. You are extremely fed up and kept a poker face while he annoyed you and kept laughing with his song called Too Many Nights by Metro Boomin, Don Toliver & Future (Sped up version.)

Song: Too Many Nights by Metro Boomin, Don Toliver & Future

---

Me personally, I just want him to just smash my head endlessly on the wall while Lovers from the past By Mareux is playing.

"All this Romeo and Juliet lovey goofy shit" LMAOOOOO STOP I LOVE EZRA. He definitely listens to Lana.

#male yandere #romance #yandere #oneshot #drabble #angst #yandere x reader #yandere core #fluff #smut #yandere male #soft yandere #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere oc #oneshot requests #light angst

[moony-2001]

How I would’ve constructed the 10 year time skip

✨Brought to you by my deep loathing for Lore Olympus✨

•warnings: super long post (I’m not joking), death, kidnapping, violence•

What The Fuck Happened

There was so much potential for the punishment arc. We could’ve seen a lot of character development, fleshed out storylines, reconciliation between certain people. We could’ve seen both Hades and Persephone going to therapy instead of claiming that one therapy session has fixed all their problems and then never going again.

Instead we got horny Persephone, pretty much no clue about what happened to Demeter OR Persephone during that time, and an easy plot device (sorry Cerberus) for Persephone to be like “I’m a big girl now harrumph harrumph, time for me to go reunite with my crusty ass bf who I’ve only know for a month”.

I hate the way she reunited with Ares. Ares is just a bonafide creep throughout the whole comic (although I liked when he attacked Zeus lol). I guess what I mostly hate about Ares and Persephone’s interaction is, yet again, it’s another example of every guy in the comic going AWOOGA over Persephone. Also Athena’s design is so fugly. I guess Rachel is completely incapable of drawing masculine presenting women as actual women.

The whole Kronos plot line is stupid. I hate it so much. Imo the whole “the titans are trying to escape so they can rule Olympus again” is overdone and not particularly done well. The fight between Kronos and Persephone is lame as shit. Like what, she gets big for all of 20 minutes, burps out a bunch of bees (which aren’t even aggressive creatures), and then does her version of the Wuxi Finger Hold from Kung Fu Panda and has Tartarus spirit Kronos away, magically fixing all of their problems (except it doesn’t and nothing is actually fixed).

Also I might get a lot of flack for this, but I don’t think the addition of Morpheus’ character was necessary. I like Morpheus. I think she’s cute. But she’s a) slowly turning into another version of Hecate and b) not really vital to the narrative imo. We already have so many other characters and plot lines that take away from the central “romance” the story is SUPPOSED to be focused on. I just don’t think we need ANOTHER character whose arc is probably not going to go anywhere.

So yeah, overall very L writing, L plot, and L characters.

What I would do differently

The first thing I would change is that the whole punishment arc would be an entire season unto itself. You’ll see why it has to be a separate season.

The second thing is (and this literally pains me to say) in order for me to rewrite this portion of LO without rewriting the entire comic, I kinda sorta have to throw the entire timeline of Greece out the window. If I try to follow a timeline based on the history of Greece, the entire timeline of LO has to shift massively. I’m already getting a migraine trying to think about how I could possibly make it work.

I do know this: Instead of 10 years I’d do somewhere between 1,000-3,000 years. 10 years is a joke. When you’re a god, 10 years is a trip to the time out corner

For now, let’s just say (assuming LO takes place in the Ancient Greece era) and Ancient Greece spanned ~1500 years, Persephone’s punishment would’ve needed to have been established near the very end of the collapse of the Late Bronze Age, spanned the entirety of Ancient Greece as we know it today, and ended some time in the very early Byzantine era. So like what, 1500-2000 years? Fine. I can work with this.

The Famine

You know how the first 400 years of Ancient Greece was deemed the “Dark Ages” and it was a time of war, famine, and loss? I want to start the punishment there. It would make sense for what we know about the characters thus far:

Demeter has had complete control over the growth of the flora and fauna on earth. She’s the goddess of the harvest after all. But we also find out that while Persephone has been in Olympus, Demeter has also been carrying out her duties as the goddess of spring. Plus Demeter has been around for forever and a day. She knows what she’s doing

Persephone doesn’t (at this point in the comic) really have control over her powers. Even in her fits of rage, she ends up doing more harm than good (i.e. her act of wrath, turning Minthe into a plant, etc.). In comparison with everyone around her, she is a literal infant. I mean shit, she’s only been alive for 20 years compared to the fact that everyone else has most likely been around for a minimum of 500 years.

If Demeter is stripped of her status as a goddess (and thus her powers) it would make sense that there would be a lot of death and famine and war over territory/food. Persephone would be left with nothing: no guidebook, no how-to. Of course a lot of people would die while she’s trying to figure her shit out. It could also be a very interesting tactic for psychological warfare on Zeus’ part. Zeus KNOWS Persephone doesn’t know what she’s doing. He knows people will die. And he knows that since life is precious to Persephone (or at least that’s what she claims), it would punish her further.

We can see episodes of Persephone struggling to provide for humanity. We could have real world examples of the affect of famine and depopulation. We would see her struggling with her powers, her mental health. We could get an episode that explains how her hands got destroyed from trying to mimic her mother’s powers. We can see what the fuck happened to Demeter in Attica.

Now obviously things will eventually go on the up and up for Persephone and her compatriots. The whole 1500-2000 years isn’t just going to be one big clusterfuck. As time progresses and chapters pass, we could see real character growth for Persephone not just mentally, but in almost every aspect. Since she will have been alive at that point for over 1000 years, the readers would be able to see her newfound maturity. We could also see her build strong female support systems and strengthen her friendships, something we NEVER saw in the OG comic (or at least they never happened without Hades somehow being involved). You get the point.

What’s Old Man Hades up to?

I have big plans for Hades and none of them involve him going into a 1000+ year coma or getting possessed by his creepy-ass dad. He is an asshole though. I kinda wanted to portray him in this the way he is in the original myths (which for those who don’t know or haven’t read it, it’s not good).

So in Greek mythology, Hades actually had a wife before he even met Persephone or Minthe. Can you take a wild guess as to who?

Bingo! It’s Leuce. Contrary to popular belief, Leuce is actually NOT a home-wrecking POC version of Persephone (don’t @ me we all know the nymphs represent the lower class and POC). In mythology, Leuce was Hades’ first wife/lover and she died sometime long ago and I believe was turned into a white poplar tree. No she is not a cousin of Thetis and Amphitrite. She is not even remotely related to them. And Thetis and Amphitrite are sisters, not cousins. Do your fucking research Rachel.

Unfortunately, Greek Mythology doesn’t really mention all that much about Leuce outside of the fact that she was a daughter of Oceanus, she was kidnapped by Hades, and when she died (for unspecified reasons) she turned into a tree. Which means I’m going to be taking a lot of creative liberties for this portion of the post. Sorry to all you diehard fans of Greek myths out there. I shall try to do her justice.

In my head-cannon Hades and Leuce had been in an arranged marriage for thousands of years. Leuce was offered by Oceanus as a peace offering after the War and Hades, not really having any other viable options for a wife, agreed to take her to the underworld (much to her dismay). Over time, they grew to have a mutually loving/caring relationship. Unlike LO Persephone, Leuce was a good queen and she worked hard to make sure the denizens of the underworld respected her and that they were well cared for. Unfortunately, they got divorced because Hades starting having an affair with Minthe. Even though she loved her kingdom and the people of the underworld, she divorced Hades because she couldn’t stand to be around him, which, y’know. Fair.

A few notes: in my head-cannon, Leuce is still around leading up the the trial and punishment. Her portrait would still be up, we would see signs that Hades and Leuce still interact (more in terms of business, not romance), etc.

Also, unlike Persephone, Leuce would not take her anger out on Minthe or turn her into a plant or destroy her apartment. She would simply wish her good luck. She would be mad at Hades for cheating and for taking advantage of Minthe while she’s at her lowest. But I’m going to be straight up: even though Leuce is meant to be the better Persephone, she still has her flaws. She’s not going to feel inclined to help Minthe in any way. Would you want to help out the person who your partner is cheating on you with? The answer is no and if you say yes, you’re lying.

Anyways, during the Punishment, Hades and Leuce reconnect and Hades finds out Leuce is dying. He tries to convince her to leave the underworld and return to her father, but she insists that she is going to stay, even if it means she dies away from everyone she loved. She won’t abandon her kingdom, her people, or her ex-husband (although that’s much better than he deserves). They move in together and Hades begins to take care of her, even as she begins to deteriorate. They also begin to rekindle their past relationship and (with the help of a therapist) work through some of their past problems together.

Note: their relationship rekindles a couple hundred years into the punishment so by the time the punishment ends, they’ve been back together for a minimum of 1200 years

The aftermath and the Rape of Persephone

Before any of you go gaga over me for the title used above, the original title used for the myth is The Rape of Persephone (or if you want to be really original, The Rape of Proserpina). In the context of the title, the term “rape” means to be taken/kidnapped rather than having sexual violence inflicted upon you. Rape stemmed from the traditional Latin word “raptus” which means “to be seized” or “carried off”. Okay? Okay.

So after the Punishment ends and Persephone feels like she has thoroughly improved herself, she goes to find Hades and talk with him about their relationship. Mainly that she feels they rushed into it, and even though she does like him she wants to take things really slow (kind of like how she wanted before getting married 3 episodes later).

Upon arriving to the underworld/Hades house, her worst fears are realized: not only has Hades (seemingly) moved on, he has found someone else. Or rather, he got back together with his ex-wife.

Persephone freaks out (“who is she?”/“I’m his wife!”)

Persephone, throughly upset for getting her hopes up, flees back to mortal realm. Hades goes to leave Leuce, but not before she tells him that if he leaves her for Persephone, she will never forgive him. Hades leaves anyways, much to the absolute despair of Leuce, who is left wailing as he runs off.

Persephone returns home and finds Demeter and they hug. Demeter is initially horrified to see what happened to her hands, but is proud of the work she did during the punishment. Persephone cries to her mother about Hades, and Demeter tries to comfort her but it inadvertently comes off more as “I told you so” rather than “I’m sorry you had to experience that” (although Demeter is sorry that Persephone’s heart is broken). Persephone, already feeling incredibly emotionally distressed, lashes out at Demeter and they start to argue. This is when Hades arrives.

Hades sees Demeter and Persephone arguing and inserts himself into the situation. Persephone becomes more upset after seeing him and Hades (assuming that Persephone is upset about the fact that Demeter is getting in the way of their “relationship” and not the fact that Persephone discovered Hades went back to his ex-wife after saying he loved her) whips out the the “one personal question, no exceptions” card and proposes to Persephone. He insists that he loves her and only her and that they should spend the rest of their immortal lives together.

Persephone says no.

Hades, not taking no for an answer and not wanting to leave the mortal realm empty handed, kidnaps Persephone, much to the dismay of Demeter, Artemis, and the nymphs. Hades returns with a traumatized Persephone to the underworld to find that Leuce has died and turned into a white poplar tree. While Persephone is sobbing on the floor, Hades weaves a mock crown from the branches and leaves of the tree, places it upon Persephone’s head, and tells her she better get used to their life together.

Thus ends the season and the punishment arc.

Afterthoughts

Thank you for sitting through my ramblings. I officially joined the anti-LO community about the time the trial happened and had been wanting to make a post like this for a reaaaaally long time. Besides the fact that the trial in of itself was completely unethical (@genericpuff made a whole post about that) the punishment arc just really pissed me off. Like go girl, give us nothing!

Anyways, I may or may not do a whole timeline reconstruction of LO depending on how much I feel like offing my sanity with the amount of research that would have to go into that. Until then, I hope you like this post and look out for other anti LO posts coming your way :)

#lore olympus #anti lo persephone #anti lore olympus #unpopular lo #unpopular lore olympus #kung fu panda #anti lo #lo criticism #lo critical #long read #lore olympus criticism #lo critic

[princelylove]

The Father.

Synopsis: A character study on Bruno Bucciarati. 

Warning: pet names used in italian are masculine, general yandere behavior, nsfw implication at the end but no real nsfw, referenced violence

Bruno is not really naturally the fatherly type, but he chooses the responsibility anyway. He hides that he smokes, doesn’t eat until everyone else has, and very rarely slacks off. Although he’s serious about work and his family, he tends to be playful and lighthearted. It’s rare to see Bruno in a bad mood. He’s a family man. Loves the holidays, always hosts. Wants to be called papa or dad- Bruno’s secretly hoping that one day someone will slip and call him ‘Daddy,’ how delusional. He took the responsibility from his own father for his health and safety when he was little and didn’t really blink, but who takes care of Bruno? No one! Because providers don’t need to be babied, obviously, and that’s exactly what he is. The provider. The man of the house. 

His favorite albums from Miles Davis are Agharta and Bitches Brew, which are jazz-fusion, avant-garde jazz, funk rock, and jazz-rock. I tend to think of jazz as slow, easy listening, but it’s wild, it’s experimental, it’s everything Bruno doesn’t allow himself to be in favor of keeping his perfect family fantasy safe and sound.  The Bucciarati household is always loud- whether that be from Narancia and Pannacotta “playing,” in Bruno’s words, or from the little record player that lives in the living room. He offered to buy Pannacotta some vinyl records, but he never took him up on it. It’s a bit of a sore subject. The bookcase has a cardboard box in it filled to the brim with albums from Miles Davis, Sade, Frank Sinatra, Tupac, and his darling’s alleged music taste- he guessed based off of what was in your room. How did he get in your room? Don’t be silly, he never said he was in your room. 

Bruno takes up two personas in order to maintain his fantasies, his passione one and his fatherly one, and flips back and forth depending on what’s going to work best. It’s rare to see Bruno just… being himself. He’s obsessed with how things are supposed to be- he wants what he never had. A big, happy family. 

His passione one is where he gets his sadism out of his system, where he tells himself he’s just doing whatever it takes to keep his family safe and sound and not thoroughly enjoying beating the shit out of whoever Polpo tells him to. He grabs your wrists too tightly when moving you out of his way, gets a little too loud with you, sometimes. He doesn’t hit his darling normally- no, that’s not what a good husband would do- but sometimes you just make comments that burrow themselves under his skin, and he can’t help but react. 

He doesn’t shy away when he does it, either. He always doubles down, giving you that firm tone he gives Narancia when he slacks off on important jobs, or how he would talk to someone while working a typical repo job. It’s like you’re talking to someone else- he doesn’t even bother to fake his normal smile. 

“Watch how you talk to me before you lose the ability to speak at all.”

It’s short and sweet. Nothing more needs to be said. 

He holds his head in his hands, later, thinking about how badly he just set himself back. At least he has the courtesy to open a window to let the smoke pour out. 

He doesn’t like smelling like cigarettes.

He isn’t really meant to be a father. He doesn’t really know how, but he’s trying to. He’s not meant to be a husband, either, with the way he treats his spouse, lately. But he’ll smile, and take that gentle tone, because he must. The world may be cruel, but he must not be. He has to work to not have that type of reaction when you speak to him so harshly. Maybe if he were a better man.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He’s trained himself so that his smile would always reach his eyes- he even trained his relaxed face to be a more palatable version of his actual relaxed face. You won’t open up to him if he scowls at you, or glares at you instead of looks. He wants everyone to think he’s gentle- he wants to be the father that everyone always comes back to visit once they’re all grown up. A better version of his father, who Bruno would argue was perfect, for what he had. 

His darling is meant to be his spouse- his other half. He longs for someone he can shower with pet names, someone who will melt into his hands, someone who appreciates just how much effort he puts into everything. It’s rare that Bruno can fully relax- there’s always something to be done, whether that be at home, or by Polpo’s order. 

But… He doesn’t truly trust his darling. He loves to micromanage, and it makes him anxious to think about you holding something sharp or standing on something unstable. Please just let him reach whatever it is you need for him- his stand can bring things down if it’s also out of his reach. 

Why do you want to drive? He knows how to drive. Why did you bring your wallet? Of course he’s going to pay for you- he asked you out, didn’t he? Oh, let's not cut up your own snack, you could hurt yourself… Bruno is begging to be needed. He finds his identity in being the man of the house- the provider, the father, the husband, but you just aren’t giving it to him, and it's driving him up the wall. 

It’s suffocating. It’s patronizing. You can shave by yourself, you’re not a child. You know how to take something out of the oven- you’re not going to use your bare hand to touch the metal that was just sitting at 177 degrees celsius.

A little note sits on your nightstand. It’s meant to be a bonding exercise, as he leaves a new one every morning, but you don’t speak italian. Bruno’s handwriting is neat and bubbly- why he put so much effort into making it legible but not in a language you understand is beyond you. 

‘Amore mio -

Sono innamorato di te. Non aprire la porta a nessuno.

Avete mangiato qualcosa? 

Tuo marito.’

You’re left to sit and stare at it, if you’d like, or get on with the chores you know you have to do before Bruno gets back.

It’s little moments of peace- of genuine privacy- like these that keep you going. You’ve been getting up earlier for this exact purpose. Bruno would really rather you sleep the entire morning away and wake up to him coming home in the afternoon, arms open and smiling, calling his name, maybe saying something like “Come back to bed, my love.” … but it’s healthier for you to be up during the day, getting some sun from the open windows, and engage your mind with some tasks that aren’t instant-pleasure based.

But sleeping in a little bit isn’t a crime. You’re welcome to sleep until Narancia gets up- he needs you to walk him through the steps of making breakfast, again. Don’t worry. You won’t be touching the stove, or using a knife. Just guide him through it verbally, and comfort him if it fails.

It eats Bruno alive when you don’t immediately greet him at the door.

He sighs a bit at the snack you brought him. The bowl makes a clack sound as you set it down on his desk. You took such care in peeling and slicing some apples for him, he should be grateful. 

“Bello. What’s this for? I’d rather you not use the peeler unsupervised.”

“Wasn’t. Narancia was watching.” 

Bruno bites his lip a bit, but is quick to fix his face. He smiles at you oh-so-lovingly. “I didn’t know he was warming up to you, amore. Did something happen?” His hand reaches for the bowl, his wrist sits on the old wood of his desk, and his fingers tap the brim ever so lightly. He’s debating eating it to ‘please’ you or not, debating if he can hide his distaste for the fruit from his almost-spouse. So close.

“No.” Your answer is simple. It’s behaving without submitting. He wants the full story. Wants to know why his son is hovering over his darling- if this wasn’t done by a peeler, and actually done by the small pocket knife he trusted his son to have around you- 

“Perhaps it’s the exposure to you, then.” He really does it. He pops one of the smaller slices into his mouth, and chews. His shoe makes a distinct tap as he bounces his knee under his desk. As much as he adores you, his fondness for apples is like his fondness for the boss.

You hum at his act of ‘love,’ and wait for him to finish chewing, and actually swallow. When he notices your stare, he opens his mouth to display that he actually did.

“See? There’s no need to fuss, I’m not having issues with eating. I eat very well, actually.”

Of course his mind jumps to you being concerned for him. When you don’t respond, he sighs a little bit, and stands.

“Amore, is there something you want to talk about? I’m open to your worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

The clack of his shoes don’t comfort you. 

His outstretched hand doesn’t ease your worries.

His voice doesn’t soothe you.

“I love you, tesoro mio.” His lips graze your cheek, “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like I’m going to eat you.”

His hand rests on your waist, pulling you in closer.

“Unless you’d like me to.”

#yandere bruno bucciarati #yandere bruno bucciarati x reader #god this took forever #my italian is rusty give me a break if the grammar is a bit off

[the-boney-rolls]

The Great Covid Beatles Binge, Day 2: Give My Regards to Broad Street

Hoo boy, here we go!

OK so we open with a stern/bored looking Paul stuck in traffic in the rain and it looks like he's spacing out... hey, Paul, are you starting to daydream? Paul? Is this whole movie about to be a dream, Paul? Oh god

This silly little car! The computer, the carpet, the pool ball gear shift. It's giving the 80's car version of the Beatles house in Help! It's also giving hyper-masculine in a way that is, I'm sorry, not convincing.

This plot is already deeply inscrutable. Something about some missing tapes, a reformed criminal that Paul knows somehow and trusts for some reason, and some ominous business men. Something bad will happen at midnight if the tapes aren't found. OK!

Ringo looks so cool and hot! That vest over that sick as hell dragon shirt. Yes. This scene is genuinely funny, too -- Ringo spends the entirety of "Here, There and Everywhere" and "Yesterday" searching through his mountains of drum equipment looking for brushes, only to find them too late. Apparently, the reason for this scene is that Ringo just didn't want to re-record old Beatles songs!

And now we have Paul, Ringo, George Martin and Geoff Emerick all together in a scene! Makes me think about how George Harrison apparently was a little miffed Paul didn't just call him to ask for filmmaking advice since it was something he had experience with. What could have been!

“Wanderlust” is such a great song, actually, damn.

“I’m not a bad boy, really. I’m just — er, manipulated” John??

Now this is more like it! Surprise Linda in drag, hell yes!

I don't know why this scene is happening? It's a rehearsal for... something? But I'll take it. I love "Ballroom Dancing" and I love vaudeville Paul.

I'm starting to feel like Paul's grandpa in AHDN, "so far, I've been in a train and a room, and a car and a room, and a room and a room." Did Paul's experience on that set define what a movie is to him? "Ah yes, a movie must include lots of transportation from one location to another and then some musical scenes." But dear, it worked because there were jokes! And all four of you to play off each other.

I.......... what

This is Silly Love Songs, of all things!

Again, I don't know why this scene is happening in the context of the movie. Is it another rehearsal for something? A music video? Television special? Who knows, Yoko! But OK here we go, I sure am having fun! Linda is extremely into it. That slap bass kills. There's a Michael Jackson impersonator for some reason? Sure! It makes no sense but I love this man and his bizarre beautiful mind.

So now we're doing band rehearsal in some kind of barn? Or abandoned warehouse? Or something? All of the plot of this movie seems to happen in dialog in cars en route to some ambiguous musical engagement.

“Do you think we can get some heat in here or are we practicing to be Canadians?” God bless you, Ringo.

“Should we try Not Such a Bad Boy” “Do we have to?” “Yeah” Bossy Paul bosses around a Beatle, we love to see it.

Is this song about him or John? 

The French horn player coming in late to record "For No One," inexplicably in a bright red motorcycle helmet, so late that he’s preparing up until right before the solo starts. Reminds me of that story of Ringo recording Hey Jude. But it also feels very symbolic of something. There are so many odd inscrutable details in this movie, it could almost be Lynchian in someone else's hands.

“We’re running, and running out of time too” It feels meaningful but I don't know how.

Hello Mr. Darcy! Wow, can I have an entire movie that’s just this Victorian dream sequence? Can we go back in time and do a Beatles movie period piece, please??

The strings in this which are inspired by but are not quite "Eleanor Rigby" are lovely. Apparently this whole sequence is called "Eleanor's Dream," which implies that Paul is Eleanor. Make of that what you will, I suppose.

I like that Linda is a pants-wearing photographer in this period scene. Linda's gotta Linda.

This strikes me as very Evil Beatles. Again, make of that what you will.

Barbara and Linda are acting the HELL out of this going over the waterfall scene damn.

I don't know, I could screen grab this entire segment, it's amazing, it's insane.

But I can't gloss over Paul being horny for Ghost Horse Girl Linda. Incredible.

"That’s it you’re finished. What are you gonna do now?" Well ok at least this one is pretty obviously a reference to the critical reception of his career after the Beatles and again after John.

"Uncle Jim" Ok so I guess this is supposed to be his dad, but what is the point of this scene? And why the monkey? The further I get into this film the more I feel like I am looking deep into this man's psyche but through the murkiest of windows. I'm here for the weird dream symbolism, Paul, but if you're gonna go that route, again go full Lynch and get even weirder.

Just the straight up original recording of "Band on the Run" feels out of place with all these re-records. I wonder why that choice.

His car license plate is "PM 1" That's right, baby, you're number 1.

Another little cute but inconsequential day dream (presumably within the dream that is this entire movie). He looks like Roy Orbison here.

Oh ok Harry was just locked in a cupboard this whole time. So the whole "plot" was pointless. Cool cool cool.

Paul and Harry being giddy and laughing together is cute though, and it makes me wish that that relationship was fleshed out more. Who are they to each other, exactly??

Yup it was all a dream. Love it, love that for us. Thanks, Paul.

OK so this was definitely barely a movie. There could have been something here, but I'll go back to what I said above -- I wish he'd gone weirder with the whole thing! And I wish Paul himself had been weirder. The character Paul is kind of a dud, just plodding along from place to place and only coming alive when he performs. It's like that Hawaiian shirt is supposed to be a stand in for characterization. But worth it for the music video scenes and for getting a tiny glimpse into Paul's psyche.

#give my regards to broad street #paul mccartney #the beatles #linda mccartney #ringo starr

[avelera]

"The Regime" (starring Kate Winslet and Matthias Schoenaerts) Episode 2 Review

So last week I gave my review of this first episode of this.... rather perplexing show. And this week, mostly out of morbid curiosity, I tried out episode 2 and thought I'd share my impressions of it.

Once again, let's start with the good:

Matthias Schoenaerts (aka, Booker from The Old Guard) is acting his face off in this. So is Kate Winslet.

That said, they are acting their faces off in completely different shows.

But it kinda works?

Hold on, wait a minute, let me start again, because like this show, I'm immediately completely muddled by how I feel about all this or what the fuck is going on.

Let me put it this way. I thought I was signing up for a sort of "Death of Stalin" political satire, with fictionalized object lessons that clearly applied as cautionary tales to modern political issues like Trump, or Putin, or the Royal Family or whatever, using a heaping side helping of comedy.

That's not quite what we got. And I think the people who signed up for that are going to be... at least a little disappointed. The comedy is absurdist and definitely relies on the cringiness of the big personalities involved. But for me, at least, there wasn't quite enough comedy to say this is, well, a comedy.

If you have historical familiarity with various historical regimes and dictators, you'll definitely get a "Where's Waldo" of traits and idiosyncrasies of various dictators all blended together into Kate Winslet's character as she portrays this fictionalized regime head. You'll get your standard cast of various Political Advisors all tutting over her actions and which way this fictional country should go.

But since it is fictional (it seems based heavily on Moldova as of this episode?) a lot of the political clout, to me, didn't exactly land because again, it's not based on real events so I really don't know where any of this is going or which decisions are actually good or bad in the long run.

And if the show was just going to be about that, I definitely would have quit out of it by now, pending good reviews of the finale somehow pulling everything together.

But now for the really unexpected bit.

Because if you signed up for a dark romance between an absurd, psychologically irregular, frankly bizarre would-be dictator who has the occasional moment of pathos, as played by the stunning and talented Kate Winslet, and her psychosexual relationship with her violently masculine, brooding, and supremely fucked-up self-appointed guard dog with the occasional moment of pathos, as played with dark and terrifying intensity by Matthias Schoenaerts, holy fuck do I think you're about to have the time of your life.

Like, I think the show wants to resonate with Veep audiences who are here for a cringey absurd political comedy, but I think the people who are actually going to be absolutely frothing-at-the-mouth obsessed with this show are like... your Reylo shipping Dark Fucked Up Romance people and Tumblr fandom in general who would really enjoy Villain/Sidekick or Villain/Bodyguard romances as seen when this Possibly Evil Dictator and her Possibly Evil Guard Dog/Advisor are being completely obsessed with each other, all with a rather small side of absurdist comedy as things continue to spiral and get gradually more fucked up.

Now, this is just my review as of 1.02. I have no idea if that's where this show is going because the problem I have with this episode is kinda just a slightly lesser version of the problem I had with 1.01, which could be a matter of taste, in that I really have no fucking clue what this show is going for or what it's trying to accomplish. It's not really laugh out loud funny. It hasn't really said anything political yet. We can't really tell yet what cautionary tales we're supposed to take away, if any?

But in the meantime, there's Winslet and Schoenaerts performing in completely different genres being darkly obsessed with each other and, y'know what, I might stick around just for the slow-motion-trainwreck fascination with whatever the fuck they've got going on.

#the regime #kate winslet #matthias schoenaerts

[hiswitchcraft]

my guy i’m the anon again, PLEASE say more about the trans experience in relation to this divine feminine bs

I LOVE YOU. I'm gonna structure this post around a couple of examples because these days I struggle with making a post out of nothing.

A trans witch rants about the divine feminine

So first of all I saw a tiktok awhile ago about how “the feminine energy lives by the moon’s cycle, track your cycles with the moon’s to become more in tune with yourself” and that’s great but it's also based on y'know, only women having a uterus. The idea that menstruation is an inherently feminine thing only women experience has kept me from receiving medical care that I desperately needed years ago. I’m going to start walking with a cane soon because I likely have a serious untreated condition and I cannot emphasize this enough, trying to get medical care as a trans person is terrifying. This is because of the lack of information. This is because of the sex/gender binary and assumptions around it.

Someone else on social media was actually asking me about my experiences and opinions as a trans person (which you are all welcome to do btw) more recently and brought up the divine feminine. They explained they believe women are more based in the spiritual realm where men are more based in the physical realm and this makes men visual and logical. They asked how I think trans people fit into that, and if I feel I'm more visual/logical. I thought to myself, no I don't think we fit into it because all of that is made up. Besides all the inherent awful and honestly misogynistic aspects to what they said, it upset me. I hate the idea that men are logical and women are emotional. I'm emotional. I'm nurturing. Sometimes it makes me dysphoric, but I don't strive for what society wants or a cis ideal of manhood so I go on the way I am and like to be.

I'm upset with the concept of the divine feminine obviously because it can be misogynistic and of course because it can take people down the alt right pipeline, but I'm also upset because it reminds me most of the world doesn't and (without trying very very hard) can't view the world the way I do. It doesn't see the way the sex/gender binary is made up and the harm it does. It doesn't see transphobia and especially the more subtle ways it manifests. It doesn't know how ideas that are "common sense" and all around us hurt me and my community.

Cis people don't see any of this and it makes me sad and angry and the divine feminine just reminds me of that as well as my usual frustrations with people not critically thinking about the ideas they take in. These ideas feed on people because they sound good at a glance. There’s probably a version of all this that IS good and could even be useful to trans people, but I don’t know what it is. Every version makes assumptions that the gender binary/gender roles makes. Even the people insisting that the “real” divine masculine/feminine concepts aren’t so bad have spat some stuff I take a lot of issue with as a trans person. So I don’t know what this lovely, useful version would be. Maybe I’ll find it eventually. 

It was very nice to get this off my chest, thank you. That first big paragraph was actually part of something that's been sitting in my drafts. I didn't put the whole thing here, but I think I was able to share enough that I can delete it now. Thanks for that. Also! I suppose I’ll say it once more just cause, since I’ve opened that can of worms, you guys are more than welcome to ask me about being trans 💙💕🤍💕💙

#y'all better back me up and start praying now because I'm putting the controversial tags #witch #witchblr #spiritual #new age #divine feminine #trans #trans witch #trans witches #trans problems #trans pride #trans experience #trans masc #trans man

[eisforeidolon]

In regards to that post [X]:

We could talk about the same old fallacies - OMG, Dean's siren is a guy! Yeah, a brother. OMG, Dean was supposed to say I love you in the Crypt scene! Yeah, it was removed and replaced with what the writer explicitly said was the less OOC version of what he meant anyway, "We're family". We could talk about the blatant absurdity of statements like "Dean liked men it happened on my screen" which bear no resemblance to the SPN that aired. But we've done that before and others have got this reiteration of it well covered.

So I wanna focus for the moment on this particular even more repulsive gem: "Like he literally doesn't need to verbally tell us he's bisexual we just know. He may not know but we do. This is an unmovable fact sorry."

It tells us a few things. One, this person is a fucking idiot. Two, this person, yet again, thinks that ~*interpreting*~ sexuality from the way someone looks/stands/makes eye contact/eats pastry/whatever numbnuts conspiracy bullshit you like? Is more valid than how a character identifies and is identified by those who created him. People can just look at you and know what your sexuality is better than you do, there's nothing repulsive about that idea at all! I've got a mountain of shiny pennies that says if Dean had literally never interacted with a man for the entire span of the series, they would have insisted it was because he was so afraid of how much he wanted to fuck them. There was no way the writers could have written Dean that someone like that would have accepted as actually heterosexual, because that's not what they personally wanted, so that's not what they were going to see.

I'm not saying there aren't things that might be said about how relatively questionable some of the gay jokes in SPN are, especially in the early years in terms of making queerness a punchline. But if we're going to talk about that? We need to do it not only in the cultural context of 2005 rather than 2023, but in the context of portrayals of real world men - and particularly those in fairly rural settings who aren't going to be particularly conscientious in the way they rib each other. Which becomes a whole other discussion about where to draw lines when you're writing fiction and dealing with things that might be realistic but also potentially offensive.

Furthermore, I'm not saying there aren't things that might be said about how SPN continually used romantic tropes for platonic relationships and how it's not entirely absurd for that to land different with the audience when the characters are not blood-related. Except that discussion needs to include not just how maybe the writers shouldn't have treated it as such a joke that a relationship between two male characters might have been possible, but also how fans should absolutely not have equated a relationship being theoretically possible with any specific relationship they wanted being owed to them. Especially in the context of those romantic tropes being used so so so much more between brothers all the fucking time setting the tone. As well as how it's not just problematic to treat the possibility of homosexual relationships as a joke, but problematic to insist literally any closeness between two male entities is gay, reinforcing all kinds of nasty toxic stereotypes about sexuality and masculinity which underlay a lot of modern adult men's issues with expressing their emotions and having genuinely close and open relationships outside of their romantic partners. I've seen fans wonder how heterosexual dudes can watch this show and love the brothers' relationship without seemingly noticing the weird undertones of how claustrophobically intertwined they are, and I think it's very much that when it comes to wanting a fantasy of platonic closeness, they're looking for realism as much as most women reading trashy romance novels are - but that's a whole other digression and this is already too long.

At the end of the day, not only was SPN not created in the cultural context of Very Online Tumbrites in 2023, convinced that nothing should ever be is heterosexual and every fictional story should be about them and what they want? The fact their ostensible original point misses is the real world and most other media of 2023 aren't like that either! Some of these shippers come across like they've literally never seen two adult male friends interact with each other or any actual love stories in media - and it's not just early 2000's television characters getting this treatment from entitled shippers who want to use representation as a weapon against creators as to why they're owed things they absolutely aren't.

#destihellers #faux social justice #long post #Dean *exists* = OMG SO BI!

[super-ion]

Such Lovely Fur

[chapter 1 | chapter 2]

Chapter 3

“You know,” Rook drawls as we continue on, “you're probably well equipped enough by now to make your own way in the world. There's nothing really forcing you to keep going.”

I sigh. The prospect is growing more and more tempting.

The path has brought us alongside a raging mountain stream. White water churns and roars below and the rocky path is slippery from the spray

“I mean, what's so special about your man anyway?” she asks from a perch amongst the bare branches of a half dead tree.

“He…” I begin, but pause. I don't even know if I have a ready answer for this. I've told her of the brideprice and my duty to my family, which she had repeatedly scoffed at, but what of him?

“He is a paragon of masculine virtue,” I say finally.

This elicits a snort from her.

“What in the seven hells is that even supposed to mean?” she laughs.

“He is frugal and magnanimous and he is highly skilled in the arts of rhetoric and logic-”

“Eugh, stop,” she pleads. “You very obviously don't love him, but do you even like him?”

I don't truthfully know.

I ponder this as we reach a point where the trail is swallowed by the steep drop into the furious water. A fallen tree spans the divide, leading to a continuation of the trail on the far side.

“I have told you that we were friends when we were children, yes?” I say as I survey the treacherous looking bridge. “I suppose I harbor some fondness for him… or at least for the boy that he was.”

“Hardly a reason to wed anyone,” she scoffs.

“He is not unkind and he will treat me better than most,” I snap with more force than I intend.

I hear her inhale to ready a retort, but I whirl to face her.

“I have to marry him,” I press on. “I have come to far. My entire life I have been molded into an ideal version of myself. What am I if not the ideal daughter? The ideal bride? Do you think I would rather not be a scholar or an adventurer?”

The words burn like bile in my throat. It is the truest thing I have said to Rook. It might even be the truest thing I have ever admitted to myself.

“Wait,” Rook says, hopping to the ground and bearing down on me. “You were not pressured into womanhood simply to appease others, were you?”

There is something sharp and dangerous in her voice, a threat of protective violence.

“No, nothing like that!” I say quickly. “As I told you, I chose of my own accord and I would not trade that part of myself away for anything… but after I chose I was encouraged… strongly to become someone I am not. And now, I don't know how to be anything else. There is no room in my society for anything else.”

I turn quickly to look back at the crossing, lest unbidden tears begin to fall. I can feel her gaze upon my back as I take the first cautious steps onto the log.

“What do you want, Astra?” she asks softly.

I do not know, so I do not answer.

The log is slick with frozen spray from the rushing water below and I fall to all fours for balance. I am nearly halfway across when I lose my footing. One of my paws hits an unseen patch of ice and my arm slips out beneath me. I scramble for purchase, but I am already too off balance. My shoulder smarts against the log and I plummet into the stream.

The frigid water knocks the breath out of me and the current siezes hold. I am battered against the rocks of the river floor and turned about so that I do not know which way is which. It is only by sheer luck that my hand snags against a branch wedged between two rocks and I haul my head out of the water to gasp for air.

“Astra!”

I cannot hear her wing beats over the roar of the water, but a dark shadow falls over me. I desperately reach out my free hand and my fingers find clawed talons. I grasp for dear life as those claws close painfully on my arm. 

Rook hauls me out of the water with a mighty beat of her wings. I am soaked to the bone and being wet in the frigid air is almost worse than the river itself. We are only in the air for a few minutes but a deep cold settles into the pit of me by the time I am deposited shivering on hard rock.

I blink up at sudden gloom to see that she has found a cave in the side of the ravine, high above the trail and the stream below.

“Foolish, foolish cat,” she hisses. “There are easier, safer ways to get my undivided attention.”

She is a flurry of activity as she snatches bits of sticks and tinder from the bushes that grow amongst the crags around the cave entrance.

“Strip,” she commands me.

“Wh-what-t?”

“Your clothes are soaked. Take them off so that I can keep you from freezing to death.”

Maybe the cold has me in a suggestible state, but I comply with violently shivering hands without further question. I try to shake as much water as I can from my fur while she begins piling the sticks together at the center of the cave.

She utters a word I cannot comprehend and spits into the pile of wood. A fire flares to life, bringing light and blessed heat into the space. I approach as close as I dare and sink to the ground before the flames.

I am so focused on the flames that I do not notice that she has circled around behind me until she sits and wraps her wings around my shoulders. I am startled at first, doubly so as the embrace is more tender than anything I thought her capable of. She is so warm that I relax into it in short order.

“Wh-what hap-p-pened to n-not carrying m-me?” I ask through chattering teeth.

“Maybe I decided you deserve a better fate than drowning in some unnamed mountain stream,” she replies, her voice a low rumble against my back. “Can't exactly grant you your last boon if you're dead now, can I?”

I suppose she can't. I don't know the full nature of what she is or how she is bound by our bargain.

Is it wrong to wish that she saved me for more than just pragmatic reasons?

She is so warm.

“Bet your betrothed has never pulled you from a freezing river, has he?”

I shake my head.

“No, he hasn't.”

I slip in and out of consciousness as the day drags into evening and then into night. She disappears periodically once I have warmed up, returning with firewood and food and even a moth eaten blanket from who knows where.

When the earliest light of dawn leaks into the cave, I am curled up against her, my bare fur against her feathers, with the blanket wrapped around the both of us. I am almost surprised to find that I do not want to leave. Instead, I close my eyes once more and snuggle closer into the surprising softness of her.

“I know you're awake, little cat,” she murmurs into my ear.

I am very quickly fully awake and scramble away from her in a vain attempt at propriety, which I find somewhat difficult, as I only have my fur to cover me. She stretches languidly and watches as I see to my discarded clothes. They are torn and filthy and still damp, but better than nothing. My pack and cloak are unfortunately long gone, swept away from the river. I wrap the ratty blanket around myself in some poor imitation of something between a cape and a dress, a far cry from the dress I discarded.

“You look… terrible,” Rook informs me wryly.

“Shut up,” I reply back, but there is no heat behind it.

“Shall we?”

She carries me back down to the trail and we continue ever onwards. I cannot help but feel that something has changed between us, as if some unspoken threshold has been crossed. I steal glances at her and more often than not, catch her looking back.

I can feel the end of our time together slipping ever closer with each step I take in the direction of the Lady of Winter’s castle. Rook will inevitably grant her last boon, I will find my betrothed and the two of us will go our separate ways.

The glances grow more frequent, the silence more tense.

At long last, we arrive.

It is my understanding that the Lady of Winter goes about upon a magic sleigh, drawn by a mighty elk as white as snow, but there are forgotten passages carved into the stone around the upper reaches of the mountain peak where her fortress of ice sits.

Rook and I arrive at one such passage, a rectangular gap in an otherwise smooth cliff. It might have been a grand entrance once, but any finely carved details that once adorned the stone have been worn to near smoothness. Beyond the door, the passage is swathed in blackest shadow. There is nothing by way of torches or other light sources. Any human person who ventured in would surely be lost in the pitch dark labyrinth within.

Rook steps towards the gloom and scratches at the ground with one of her taloned feet, revealing familiar glowing symbols beneath.

“Looks like end of the road for me,” she says wistfully. “The ways into her stronghold are barred against things like me.”

A doubt flutters through my mind. I could turn back now. I could disappear into the mountains and nobody would ever know. Maybe Rook and I…

I cannot finish that thought. Such a thing would be impossible. I have my duty and my honor. I have come too far to turn back now.

I let out a shuddering breath and peer into the gloom.

“You know what I need,” I say to Rook, my voice thick with emotion.

“I need to hear you say it,” Rook replies, her tone flat and unreadable. “You should know by now, that's how this works.”

I force myself to face her. When I ask for the final boon, she will be released from our agreement. There will be nothing holding her to me.

I have come too far to turn back.

“I need a way to navigate the cave, eyes and ears and… and…”

I trail off as she steps closer to me. She towers over me and I have to crane my neck to meet her eyes.

For each of the previous boons, her magic acted at a distance. This time, she cups my face in her hands. I take the tiniest gasp of an inhalation. Her claws are so sharp, but her touch is impossibly gentle.

“Close your eyes,” she whispers.

I do and the magic comes. There is a bright light, a grinding pop, a sharp tingling in my nose.

I inhale and am greeted by a panoply of smells. I smell the dust and snow on the wind. I smell the cold dampness of the passage behind me and the crawling creatures that dwell there.

I can smell her, a rich earthy scent that I cannot even begin to describe. It is the smell that enveloped me through the night as she tended to me.

I flick my ears, taking in the world for what feels like the very first time. I hear the wind whistling through the crags and ridges around us, the distant call of an eagle, the steady drip of ice melting in the weak sunlight.

I can hear her heartbeats, that strange syncopated rhythm that I heard in my dreams.

When I open my eyes, the colors are perhaps not as bright as they were before, but everything is sharper. She is watching me intently as she holds my face in her hands. Her countenance, which had frightened me when I first saw her, is strange and wild and beautiful. If I wanted to, I could lean forward. I could close the gap and press my lips against hers…

I have come too far to turn back now.

The thought echoes hollowly in my head.

What is it that your heart desires?

“Rook…” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

She jerks her hands away from my face and takes a step back.

“I hope you find what you are looking for in there,” she says.

Is it my imagination or does she sound sorrowful?

I want to reach after her. I want to go back in time and exist in the moment when she held my face, when I opened my eyes for the very first time.

But the moment is past.

Duty and honor drive me. I am so close to the end of my journey. I have to press on.

She is a demon and I am a… I don't even know what I am any more.

Tears fill my eyes and she offers a weak smile.

“See you later, Astra,” she says and dives off the cliff, flapping her powerful wings.

I stand there, watching her shrink away in the distance and I feel empty inside.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #lesbian #transgender #nonbinary #monster x human #transgender fairy tale #transformation #animal transformation #fairy tale #lgbtq fantasy #lgbtq fairy tale

[11natrium]

I suppose that I might share some feeling regarding my own masculinity I've been having about myself to the world, perhaps some will find them relatable.

tl;dr - I'm AMAB, and while I struggled with accepting my masculinity, trans men made me feel at peace and safe with it, and I cannot thank them enough.

Now for the longer version:

For quite a while now (a few years, in fact), I have been struggling with my masculinity, as an AMAB person. I grew to feel super uncomfortable with the implications that came from being a "man", at least as it can be stereotypically understood. I know very well that masculinity has positive aspects, like strength or reliability, but being called a "man" made me also feel like someone automatically perceived as aggressive, or dangerous, or a sex pest, or a creep. As far as I'm aware, I am none of that - but I can't help that being "a man" makes me feel like someone who poses some sort of danger, or is a threat to those around them. It no doubt comes from experiencing toxic masculinity - more so from my peers and general society, as I'm thankfully privileged to have a normal family, where everyone is, well, normal and supportive and non-abusive. Still, that toxic masculinity, or hearing about certain men being just, fucking losers, made me want to detach myself from being called a "man".

This is partially why I embraced the identity of a demiboy. Someone mostly masculine, but still someone who does not want to call themselves a man. To be clear - there is more to my identity than just discomfort with stereotypical masculinity. I have interest in outfits and activities perceived as feminine, there are subtleties to how I like to picture myself in art, using a feminine name (Marcy) towards myself, using gender neutral pronouns (they/them) etc. - it goes deeper than just what I outlined above. That's a story for another day, though, what matters for this post is that I felt that unease with my own masculinity.

I guess this is where trans men come in. Briefly - over time, as I interacted with trans men and transmasc folks in general, I started to feel a weird sort of appreciation, maybe even jealousy for them, like I wished I was more like them myself. Eventually, I started to realise that their comfort and the gender euphoria they feel from being masculine made me feel more at peace and secure with my own masculinity. Seeing as one can feel genuine joy from being a man, from the masculinity they themselves worked to achieve, and from the positive aspects of that masculinity, while also rejecting the toxic parts of it... It just, makes me feel SO much better with myself as well.

Perhaps it sounds silly or obvious? But that realisation that I do NOT have to embrace all the baggage that comes with masculinity, and I can instead pick and choose parts of it, shaping my own version of being a man that makes me feel comfortable is something that made me feel massively better with myself. Being a silly guy gives me genuine gender euphoria - so I just embrace that "silly guy" part of masculinity, and give up on the toxic parts of it, like aggressive dominance, or hierarchical view of the world.

Going onwards, I don't think I'll be changing my pronouns from they/them, or drop the demiboy description of my identity. As I said - there is more to my identity that just discomfort for being called a man. But at least, I can be at peace with my own masculinity.

I genuinely have every single trans man and transmasculine person to thank for it. You made my life better, and I could never show properly just how deep my appreciation for you all goes.

While it doesn't really apply to me, I'm certain that trans women and transfeminine people have a similar influence for cis and gnc women. In fact, I have read a similar post from a female perspective before, and I have no doubts that this post influenced my realisation in how much more comfortable I am with my own masculinity thanks to transmasculine folks.

Trans people are a gift to this world. Their presence alone makes the world such a more beautiful place, period. I wish them all plenty of luck and joy going onwards! And once more - thank you all.

#transgender #transmasc #trans man #gnc men #demiboy #vent #positive vent #rambles #text #trans #gender euphoria #trans masc #transmasculine #trans rights #masculinity #AMAB

[the-gentleman-pining]

Decided to rewatch OFMD S2 eps 1-3 and actually jot down my thoughts as I go! Oh what fun! Ngl this is mostly for me babes but if you enjoy it that's neat ❤️

Episode 1: Impossible Birds

Stede bearded in his dream could just be playing to swashbuckling archetypes for funsies, but is it some lingering wish that he was more masculine?

Con O'Neil truly graceful about it with the sword huh

"WHERE IS HE. WHERE'S ED?" Stede seeing Izzy as the thing that is keeping Ed from him when he's the one that left lol ok

His idealised version of Ed doesn't hold him accountable either. My mans doesn't want to face what he did at all!!

His first words to Ed in his letter are reassuring him that the crew are safe, as if he doesn't remember that Ed marooned them and left them for dead on purpose??

I know it's meant to be funny but Jackie was a bit of a sex pest toward Swede at first and the power dynamic was a bit 🫤 Glad he was into it in the end!

WHY DOES WEE JOHN SLAM THE HEAD OF THE ONE WHO GOT STABBED INTO THE TABLE INSTEAD OF THE ONE WHO STABBED THEM?? 😂

Stede truly is unphased by people being assholes to him and I just,,, respect it.

Ricky your vibes are strange and unsettling

Who in their right mind would have an ocean wedding in the golden age of piracy?? I know they probs didn't know it was the golden age of piracy while they were in it but STILL

Ed looks so dead behind the eyes 😭 Just going through the motions eh buddy?

Dressed up like the book Blackbeard I see. God he's trying so hard to inhabit this character.

I would die for Archie. Truly the himbo we need in these depressing angst riddled times.

Jim asking someone else how they're bottling things up?? Hello?? Who are you and what have you done with Jim?? Aren't you the bottling up Master? Olu bewitched you too good and now you've unlocked Feelings 😔

"He's actually a good guy" Stede babygirl did we actually forget the marooning???

I have so much I could say about how Izzy and Blackbeard's relationship has deteriorated hhhhh,,,, Izzy is a problem child but I'm so glad the story is crashing towards his character actually growing and changing. In season 1 he at least got the crumbs Ed would throw him like "I need you here", now he's only getting abuse and maybe he's throwing himself at it because he recognises he had a part to play in reaching this point and believes he deserves it.

Fang's delivery on "how you doing Izzy" will keep me warm and fed all winter. Masterclass in approaching someone, truly tender and genuine but not too pressuring. God.

That second "unhand me" hhh the panic of realising you're going to start crying if the situation continues

Con is gonna rip my heart out and eat it this season if I'm not careful

Labour exploitation Jackie what a girlboss x

Why does "you'll be having a lot of breakfastseses together" sound so ominous though 😭 Smeagol Jackie my worstie...

Stede doing Blackbeard Voice is adorable but damn he really doesn't believe that he made Ed's life better. Like how??? Why doesn't Stede equate happiness with better? Ed was explicitly happier around you ya dingus!

Swede deserves his married bliss so much. The crew can be so mean to him!!

"What am I to you" and "I have... love for you" are said so softly I'm gonna be sick,, Izzy you fucked it by wrestling this man into this particular coping mechanism and your tenderness is coming wayyyy too late. Heartbreaking tbh cause the guy didn't know how else to help Ed and now he's realising it could have been different. Sick and twisted little dynamic I'm eating it like good soup.

Definitely supposed to be taken that Izzy didn't realise "talk it through" was a Stedeism as he said it but godddd you idiot dude

Once again god bless you Archie I'd die for you

Fang I want to rescue you hhhhhh my hot topic fashionista must be so dehydrated from all these tears!!!

No way in hell Ed expected anything else out of Izzy's mouth than something about Stede, but god I wish the guy had just payed attention to Frenchie shaking his head. The catharsis of saying the quiet part out loud wasn't worth your leg, man.

"Start by cleaning up that mess"... yeah we def see Ed is killing people himself again but outsourcing the Big Job on Izzy makes sense. He's also exactly the kind of self sabotager atm that would know Frenchie won't do it, and he's looking for reasons to Be Worse.

Indigo heist my beloved. Fuck those hammies up!! I love how loud Black Pete was omg 😂

Oh fuck off Ricky I know you're a S1 Stede mirror but you're doing it detestably

Roach why is your instinct to immediately put the blue dirt on your face darling

Zheng Yi Sao completely unphased by Jackie is giving me so much delight

Sexy Dutchman 😭😂 Jackie never change

I love that Zheng Yi Sao is taking the whole crew on just to have her lil Olu moment, get it girl

TENDER JIM IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM THEY'VE COME SO FAR. I LOVE THEIR BIG SMILE 😭 (also Archie is so wholesome what is she DOING here???)

Ed oh my god you're not alright at ALL

Frenchie's quiet "sounds like a plan" is just so... painful. The acting this season is off the charts.

When Roach asked if they were in soup now I thought he was referring to the ocean as soup I'm an idiot 😭

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands #stede bonnet #edward teach

[dcbbw]

Commoner

Before anyone gets super excited that I have finally written and posted a full-fledged fic, please be aware that this is a Savannah Walker story, and there isn’t a main LI or primary character in sight. And no happy ending guaranteed.

Yeah, sounds risky A.F. for a romance reader, but it’s a take on what leads to her circumstances pre-social season (a story we don’t know a lot about), and bonus for me: I get to explore a facet of my head canon of Leo x Savannah (Lavannah).

I may be the only person currently in this fandom with this ship in her head. Seriously.

This story was born of a long-standing head canon, and the song inspiration (original version but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement were invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 61 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

This post will be broken into two parts (WORD.COUNT.)

Part 2 here

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,493

Rating: M for Mature themes

The car smells of rich leather mixed with pheromones and sweat, as it always does when we’re together. It’s a deeply masculine aroma that I will forever associate with him. The fingers of one of my hands tangle in his hair, the other hand is splayed against his back, my fingernails digging into his skin. I let out a soft gasp as his teeth scrape against my neck; I feel my head fall back further against the car’s seat.

The moon roof is open and the Cordornian night sky is a ribbon of black silk, the twinkling stars a scatter of white. I feel I should close my eyes, let scent and touch bask in this moment but I want to see. I want the most insignificant details of this night imprinted upon my brain because no matter how often these trysts occur, they are still too infrequent.

It always ends the same When it was me and you

I hadn’t expected to see him tonight. When I saw him earlier, he looked harried. Busy.

Uninterested.

I walk down the hall of the West Wing of the Palace, standing straight and tall with my shoulders back. Just as I was taught. I’m not supposed to be here; the West Wing is for the royal family. I am neither. Rather, I am an orphaned commoner, a ward of the Crown due to the most devastating circumstances.

I see the Crown Prince and feel the familiar butterflies. My breath hitches and I stumble a bit in my heels because my legs suddenly can’t support my weight. The way this man makes me feel … it is nothing as mere as a crush, nor is it infatuation. It’s love.

First love.

He wears a white oxford shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. The top buttons undone give me a glimpse of his neck, throat, and a few errant chest hairs. His shirtsleeves are neatly rolled to his elbows, and I swear I can see the soft down of hair that covers his forearms. He is surrounded by staff … as usual. One hand holds stacks of paper; the other a pen. Even from our still considerable distance, I can hear the group’s murmurs, and see the furrow of his brow and the frown on his lips as he peruses a document. I see him decisively shake his head ever so slightly before handing the paper back to his assistant. He then leans over to whisper in the secretary’s ear before he breaks away from the large group.

He is heading my way, but I know he is unaware I am here. I can tell by the way he walks, the slight clench of his hand. When he gets closer, I drop into a low curtsy. “Your Royal Highness,” I greet in a low voice.

His eyes glance my way, but he doesn’t see me. He acknowledges my salutation with a distant nod as he fishes his phone from his pocket, dialing a number by heart. I don’t hear his words as he speaks into his mobile, but I know he’s talking to her. Even though all of Cordonia knows he doesn’t love her, my heart still breaks a little.

That night while the hour is still young despite the full moon in the now-darkened sky, I am ready for sleep. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I’m wearing a pink babydoll nightgown. I am climbing into bed when my phone rings.

“Meet me in the garage. The Aston Martin.”

He hangs up, not waiting for my response. We both know it’s in the affirmative.

My nightgown is still bunched around my neck; the side of his thumb idly strums against one of my nipples. The Crown Prince of Cordonia lays atop me as we share a fevered kiss. His tongue in my mouth feels firm, assertive, yet so soft as it rolls against mine. Our hips are still pressed together as his now-limp manhood slips from my center.

He ends the kiss slowly, his lips lingering over mine before pulling away completely. He awkwardly climbs off me and I scoot into a corner of the back seat before sitting up and pulling down my nightgown. I thrust my arm downward to the car’s floor to retrieve my underwear. Leo remains shirtless as he struggles to pull up his boxer briefs and pants. 

We always have sex in the backseat of one of the many cars belonging to the royal family. We cannot chance being caught in either of our rooms; those spaces are off-limits to both of us. Crown properties, hotel rooms …  either here or in neighboring duchies and countries … are a risk he isn’t willing to chance. There’s staff, security, paparazzi everywhere.

Reputations are at stake.

We position and maneuver ourselves so we are stretched out on the backseat, his arm draped around my side and my head on his chest. His heartbeat fills my ear as we cuddle and talk.

This is my favorite part. Yes, a physical attraction is important, but an emotional bond and mental connection is paramount. I may only be 18, but I’m an old soul.

We'll get in your car and you'll lean to kiss me We'll talk for hours and lie on the backseat

We lay quietly, our breathing becoming even and our heart rates slowing. I hear the spring breeze above us rustle tree leaves, and crickets chirping. Leo exhales a long breath that blows through my hair before speaking.

“You’ll be going to Ramsford next week.” His statement rumbles from his chest to my ear.

My nose scrunches in confusion. Ramsford? “Why?”

“You successfully completed your mandatory education six months ago. Now it’s time for you to learn the ways of Court: etiquette, societal norms, lineage of the various families … stuff that only the bluebloods care about. Bertrand has agreed to tutor you for one month.”

I bite my lip. Once upon a time, being recognized as an aristocratic member of Cordonian society had been my only goal. To wear a silk gown, with tendrils of my hair falling in soft curls against my cheek while being announced as Lady Savannah Walker would have been a dream come true.

Not anymore.

Now, I just want to be Leo’s wife one day.

“No!” I respond petulantly. “I don’t want to go.”

He pulls me closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Hey,” he says gently, “even the nobles have to do it. It’s a rite of passage into Court.” Silence before he asks quietly, "It's what you’ve always wanted, right?”

“Not anymore,” I protest as I bury my face into his chest.

He continues as if I had never spoken.

“It’s for the best. You’ll learn our ways and find a nobleman to marry you and make you a Lady.” He pauses; when he speaks again, contrition laces his tone. “That didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean. AND you need to network. Get yourself an ally … an advocate; Drake has Liam. You need someone as well.”

“I have you …”

“I leave in three days for the Mediterranean cruise; two weeks after that, it’s Coronation. Six weeks later, the wedding. Whatever I am able to do for you as Crown Prince changes once I become King.”

His words slice me apart as he speaks them in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. And that is when I conclude this love is one-sided.

“I see,” I reply coolly as I pull away, signaling I am ready to leave.

Leo doesn’t release me. “Don’t put all the blame on me.”

“I’m not,” I lie as I avert my eyes from his gaze.

His eyes close briefly before they re-open. Even in the dark shadows of the automobile, they are intensely blue, like flames of gas.

“I’m 27 years old, and the last decision I made for myself by myself was when I was five years old! There are so many things I want to do, things I have never done! And I never will, all because of station and status.”

His head falls, his breath catches in his throat. “You want nothing more than this life you think I’m living, and I want nothing more than to leave it.”

“NOT ANYMORE!” I rage as I bend over to look for my shoes. “I just want YOU!”

“Why?” he asks. The question is simple enough, yet I can’t help but feel it’s a loaded weapon.

I find my shoes but stay bent over. My hair is a curtain that hides my face. “I’m in love with you.”

Silence as he ponders my answer. “Emotions don’t do well at Court. You want to be labeled a crown chaser? Because no one would ever believe that we’re together for love.”

He sits up, pulling his shirt back on. “Being with me comes with a price, love. You’ll go broke trying to pay it.”

I slip on my sneakers and open the car door so I can step outside and put on my trench coat. “You’re breaking up with me and sending me to Ramsford so you no longer have to be bothered!” I accuse. “It’s out of sight, out of mind with you nobles!”

My voice cracks and stumbles over the words, but I don’t cry. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Fully dressed, he climbs out of the car, walking around to my side to help me with my coat. He pulls me into an embrace before adjusting my collar and fastening buttons.

“You deserve someone who can openly be with you. Someone who can fuck you in a bed. Someone who will love living their life with you, not someone who will grow to resent you because of the life they have to live.”

“And you wait until after we have sex to TELL MY THIS?” I holler. “THIS is something best discussed over comfort food and wine, NOT in the back seat of your father’s car!”

He sighs, his forehead in his palm. “I needed at least one more night with you.”

He lifts his face to meet my skeptical gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you, Vannah but the trajectory my life is on right now, I will. Hell, I ALREADY AM! I know you don’t see it the way I do, but I am trying to help you avoid wasting your life and breaking your own heart.”

We climb into the Aston Martin’s front seats, a stony silence between us. He’s absolutely correct in that I don’t see it his way, and I never will. Yet, we hold hands during the ride back to the Palace, trying to maintain our fragile connection.

It's something that I hate How everyone's disposable

Two weeks later, I am sitting in House Beaumont at the breakfast table, nibbling on chicken apple sausage and toast. My phone is placed beside my plate, but I have no notifications, no texts, no emails. I haven’t heard from Leo in three days. That is when our communications ended; my last message to him sits on delivered.

Unread.

The night before he left for his cruise, Leo slipped into my room unannounced. I gasp in fright and disbelief; we haven’t spoken since our last time together. Since he dumped me. I stare at him as the shock and surprise of the Crown Prince being in my South Wing bedroom dissipates. He returns my gaze steadily as he strides to me and pulls me almost harshly against him.

His lips seek mine, and our kiss is salty from tears; I still don’t know if they were mine or Leo’s.  With only Nora Jones crooning in the background, we hastily undress each other; my dress falls atop his shirt. His pants fall against my bra; our underwear tangles as they join the heap piled upon the carpet.

I kiss his neck softly as I straddle his lap. He marks mine as his lips and mouth blaze a trail down my body. He kisses the inside of my thighs before whispering he’s in love with me too; he then feasted upon my sex, and I think I died a little bit.

Night is lifting, a hidden sun streaking the sky with oranges and pinks when he leaves, promising to text me every day.

“SAVANNAH! Why is your phone on the table during a meal? And sit up straight, you’re slouching again!”

Bertrand’s overdramatic reprimand jostles me from my reverie, and I roll my eyes. I drop my sausage onto my plate. I’m not really hungry; the smell of strong-brewed coffee and the sight of eggs is making me nauseous. Maxwell’s eyes meet mine and he gives me a sympathetic look; I shake my head reassuringly before turning to face his brother.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I mistakenly assumed that since you were reading the newspaper, my phone would be acceptable this morning,” I say in a conciliatory tone.

The Duke looks flustered, obviously expecting a different reaction. I take the time to study the features he has grown into. However, becoming the youngest Duke at Cordonian court in centuries has taken a toll on him: his brow is constantly in a state of furrow, and his mouth is forever downturned. His eyes are filled with worry and disdain.

Despite this, Bertrand is extremely good-looking. Most assholes are.

I ask to be excused; the nausea is rising and I’m feeling light-headed.

“Are you okay, Sav?” Maxwell asks in concern.

“I’ll be fine,” I say convincingly.

As I leave, I hear a cellphone ring, but it isn’t mine, so I don’t care.

Two more weeks pass, and I realize I am pregnant.  My cycle is six weeks late, my breasts are swelling and slightly tender to the touch, and certain smells make me nauseous. Of course it’s Leo’s, he is my first and only lover. No one knows; I’m too in shock to tell anyone. And who would I tell?

Leo is the obvious choice, but he has yet to respond to any of my messages. The newspapers and social media are exploding with news of a supposed abdication and accounts of his adventures with some mystery woman from the cruise ship. There are photos of them taking in tourist sites, sneaking underneath a fence covered with NO TRESPASSING signs, feeding each other street food.

Rumor has it he returned to Cordonia briefly with the woman in tow, abdicated the Crown, broke off his relationship with Madeleine, and disappeared like a thief in the night.

I don’t believe any of it. He was in love with me, he said so. He would have told me if he were abdicating. He would have rushed to me to tell me the wedding was off.

Wouldn’t he?

Except he was no longer speaking to me ….

And then one random night when everything changes You won't reply and we'll go back to strangers

Tagging: @jared2612 ​@ao719 @marietrinmimi​ @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​​ @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14​​​ @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #enjoy the angst #leo rys #savannah walker #writer on tumblr