#but if I'm wrong someone pls correct me

[kentopedia]

ᡣ𐭩 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 . . . the french are glad to die for love

after a night performing, you meet with the duke, but he's not anything like you'd been expecting.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. ft. sanji ! f!reader, moulin rouge au, alcohol, smoking, romance, prostitution, burlesque/cabaret dancers, humor, very very brief mention of suicidal ideation, suggestive content. 8.7k words.

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, i'm very nervous to post this so pls be kind to me ‪‪❤︎‬ if you aren't familiar with moulin rouge, the writing's a bit silly / eccentric at times, which is a little outside my comfort zone. so if you hate it... say nothing lol ><

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

Paris was the city of lovers, as they said. Romantic and doused in shades of red, painted with hearts for stars and a dazzling galaxy complete of past romances. 

Red, yes, was the color of Paris. But it came from not from dalliances, but from blood and tears, the scarlet hues mixed in shades of pain and misfortune. Nothing you had expected when you’d first stepped foot in the city with a half-developed mind, just off the boat from your own country. You’d had a suitcase filled with your finest clothes, which truly weren’t much, and a few necessities. But you’d been leaving from nothing, and you’d go on to have nothing, finding yourself in yet another desperate situation. 

In the wake of revolutions, Paris was supposed to be a place of rebirth, to start fresh and finally live out your dream as an actress. But things never turned out the way they were planned — such had been the case since the beginning of time. 

Instead of finding your way into the Palais Garnier, on the stage in beautiful velvet gowns, laced with glittering diamonds and rubies, you found yourself on the streets, singing for anyone who would listen. Then, you were acquired by a man who promised you a life of luxury and an opportunity to be a star. 

And who were you to refuse such an offer? 

Thus concluding the simple, albeit melancholy tale of how you found yourself at the Moulin Rouge, part-time singer, part-time dancer, and full-time actor. A cliché story of ambition and lost dreams, of aspirations that had never come to fruition.

Still, you had your moments of stepping into the role of the glittering ruby, the dazzling diamond. There were even times when you felt that, maybe, you were shaping up to be the prima donna you’d dreamed of becoming. That you had already taken that role on and made it your own, not in a golden opera house, but on a stage of darker colors, crafted for those that crept in the shadows, rather than the heavens. 

But what being an actor at the Moulin Rouge meant was forgetting what it was to be yourself. Each evening, you put on a mask of beauty that you didn’t feel to your core, shrouded in cheap jewels that had become meaningless in the face of giving up your real dream. No matter how many times you told yourself this was right, a stepping stone to the path of greatness, it still felt like a lie.

But the years carried on, and the pain subsided. You got used to the sharpened eyes of hungry men, of people that would never want you for any longer than an evening. They were charming, sure, and they paid a pretty penny for a night — if you were willing to give it to them. 

It was enough. It had to be. 

Things weren’t so bad, you supposed. You’d left your home like you’d always planned to, even while this shapeless existence was hardly any better.

Still, returning to your house of cards, of rags and dirtied floors, seemed like an even bigger failure. Perhaps not to your family, who would’ve deemed your life as a courtesan the greatest shame of them all. To you, though, the greatest shame would have been to admit that you were wrong. 

Your fifth year of working at the Moulin Rouge set into motion the beginning of the end. There was nothing different about the evening that tipped the first domino… Not that you could recall, at least. 

As always, an array of stars glittered over Montmartre, a beautiful Parisian night, lit up with red. From the streets, the Moulin Rouge glowed like a beacon, combating even the loveliest parts of the French skyline, outlandishly bright, but mystical all the same. It wasn’t often that you saw the outside of the cabaret, not the way your patrons did. Sometimes, you wondered what it was like for them, to walk in for the first time and see the beautiful stars, dancing just for them on the candlelit stage. 

The very stage you were soon to find yourself on.

A necklace of rubies — undoubtably fake — hung heavy on your chest, weighing you down just like a cough in your lungs did. From beyond your four walls, you could hear the crowd that had formed in the intimate hall, already wet with anticipation of the dancers. And while some, perhaps, were doubtful, here for the first time, you knew they would leave with an itch to return, if only to see the star of the Moulin Rouge.

You.

Staring into the mirror, you listened to the heels of your friends click across the stage, getting into position for their first number. It was comforting, almost, how the simple sound was there for your every night, alerting you of just how much time you had before your final act. 

You smeared rouge across your cheeks, sporting a grim smile, and made sure the color was bright enough to combat the lights that would illuminate you. 

Then, you inhaled, and stood from your chair, to get dressed before your number began. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get far, already crowded by the chest of your keeper, the flashy owner of the Moulin Rouge. Buggy. 

He was dressed as he always was — to the nines, and impeccably lively. Much livelier than you would ever be outside of the glittering nightclub. Sometimes, you wondered just how much of his persona was an act, and how much of it was every bit the extravagance he’d been born with.

“There’s my star,” Buggy said, dragging a finger across your cheek, eyes lit up by his pale makeup. “I’ve been looking for you.” Your name left his lips cheerfully, and you smiled, thinly plastering on enthusiasm. 

“Well,” you answered, batting your eyelashes heavily. “Here I am. Where I’ve been for the past five years, every night, at this very time.”

He threw an arm over your shoulder as he always did, like the two of you were old friends, and the air of professionalism you tried to keep between you was needless. “Yes, yes,” he responded, waving off the slight bit of sarcasm. “Listen. I have a manner of business to discuss.” 

Your smile quickly fell. You knew what that meant. “Buggy,” you said, unreeling yourself from his embrace, his hot palm dropping from your shoulders. “It’s hardly been a day since the last one. You promised me I wouldn’t have to take on any more.” 

Not that you’d believed him when he’d said that, but… There were only so many men you were willing to seduce, especially when the other dancers would have gladly accepted the work. You weren’t the only courtesan at the club, and just because you were the star, didn't mean you would put the others out of a job. 

“I did, I did, and I’ll keep that promise… After this last time.” Buggy’s words were on the edge of charisma, but they weren’t able to reach that delivery. Full of a dramatic flair, sure, but nothing further. His smile was thin, desperate, and though you wanted to ask his true intentions about this particular meeting, you wouldn’t. You already knew the answer.

You held his gaze sharply, eyes narrowing before you relented, a heavy sigh leaving your lungs. 

There had been talk about the finances, only recently, and just through the grapevine. Claims that the Moulin Rouge was going bankrupt, and there was only one person with enough beauty and charm to save it.

A heavy burden to bear, indeed.

And while you were hopeful, devastatingly so, that the claims weren’t true, you weren’t blind to the dwindling waitstaff, the decreasingly lavish decorations. One of your dancers had even left in the last week, a young girl who didn’t bring much to the table, but didn’t deserve to be tossed back onto the streets either. 

You’d be a fool not to notice that there was trouble… Trouble Buggy had convinced you not to worry about, but that concerned you all the same. 

With a frown, you bowed your gaze, then perked back up with a smile. As if holding a tiara high on your head, you straightened, erasing the depressing dimness from your eyes, hoping you shone as brightly as he wanted you to. “Alright,” you hummed, softening your voice, “What do I need to do?” 

Buggy grinned, face revealing perfect showmanship, and pinched your cheek. “There’s my star.” 

The man you were to seduce on the stage tonight was a duke. 

He wasn’t from Paris, wasn’t from France at all, but instead, from some intriguing land further East, hailing a vast amount of wealth and a large wallet that could easily bankroll the entire nightclub. Salaries, performances, food and so on. That alone told you all you needed to know. 

Just one night. That would be enough to convince him that you were a dazzling diamond, and you deserved a place on the stage. A different stage. It would be enough to get him to put his money on the table, entranced enough by the energy of the evening to invest in the Moulin Rouge. Enough to intrigue him, even if he was a difficult man to please. 

One night might not turn out be just one, you knew that. But you’d do anything, anything it took to achieve you dreams. Not just for yourself, not for Buggy… but for all of the others that you called your friends. You deserved an opportunity to be a real actress, and they deserved a place to live, a place to work. 

Besides, you were getting older, already closer to thirty than your early teenage years, and those of the underworld did not want an aged woman, so much as they sought the delicate features of a barely turned adult. It was a disgusting, filthy world you lived in, but it kept you alive, and sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

“Remember,” Buggy’s words echoed in your ears, sharp and desperate to be heard, even over the drowning noises of the orchestra. “He’ll be in the back booth. There’s a group of men with him, they’ll all have drinks. Just catch his eye, sometime during the dance. But don’t worry too much about that, otherwise you’ll lose your focus.” 

What you got from that was: You should try extra hard to catch the eye of an impressive man, but you should not seem like you were trying at all. 

A somewhat daunting task, but it would be simple enough. There hadn't been a man yet at the Moulin Rouge who hadn’t stumbled over himself when you gave him your brilliant smile.

You breathed, a deep inhale that cleared out the anxiety lingering in your chest. Then, you blew it out, and the curtain rose, blinding you with overwhelming yellows and reds from the lights, ones that ignited the jewels on your neck, outlining your chest, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

It was hard to see anything at all, but you could feel all their eyes on you — a hundred or so pairs that scoured you like a piece of meat.

And when you got to the floor, close enough that you could feel the hot breaths of your favorite clients, they threw bills at you until you could no longer hold them in the tight lines of your bodice. 

You smiled at every individual like you’d never smile at anyone again, patted their cheeks until they passed out with red, swooning faces. Then you left them, still reeling from your touch, eyes glued to you with the focus of a tortured scholar.

Performing had always been a rush to you, left you lively and with an energy that you’d never found in anything else. But sometimes, performing like this, exploiting no one but yourself and your magnetic charm, left you empty at the end of the day. You left the stage cold, drained of every ounce of warmth that had been dragged into you from the spotlight. 

It was invigorating to be wanted, but it could never compete with the crushing loneliness that came with being used.

And that warmth you got from the stage, the rush of devotion and adrenaline that came with incessant adoration? Well, you’d never felt anything like that, never been able to replicate it either, until a set of eyes landed on you from a distant booth, where the Duke was said to be sitting. 

You felt the heat before you saw him, the candy-red color of desire bleeding into you. It dragged across your back, digging into your shoulder-blades like a needle, piercing, but only lightly. There was something soft around the harsh edges of want, and when you turned to meet that stark desire, you almost faltered in surprise. 

He wasn’t what you’d been expecting.

Just as Buggy had said, the corner-most booth held a man, surrounded by many others. The table was littered with glasses — both empty and full of alcohol, and a cloud of smoke hovered around them. All of the men leaned over the table, eyeing you with awe-struck eyes, as you sparingly gave them your sweetest smile. 

But it was the innermost man that you honed in on, one being jostled around by the wealthy others in his booth. Blonde, blue eyes alight with a conflicted sort of desire, wearing a suit tailored to fit him perfectly. 

The Duke. 

Allegedly. 

From what you’d been told, there were enough clues to convince you that this dazzled man was the one you were looking for. Surrounding him were older patrons, ones that were familiar with Buggy, and nearly all of the dancers. Rich men that would have gladly accompanied a foreign noble, shown him the beauty of Montmartre before the sun rose and they were back to respectable conversation. 

Yet, he seemed… 

Well, he didn’t seem very lordly. 

That, though, was not a question you wanted to linger on for too long. Your mind would spin into uncertainties, and you would fuck this up before you could fuck him. 

Instead, you sharpened your smile, lowered your eyes seductively, and continued your performance, painting more attention onto that side of the room. 

Which raised another red flag that you were all too happy to ignore. Far opposite of what Buggy had sad, the duke did not seem like a difficult man to please. Rather, all you could think was that he would be an easy catch, with the way his cigarette dangled from his lips, parted in awe. His irises might as well have shaped into hearts as he watched you, tracing your every movement without so much as blinking. 

You brightened. For some reason, his adoration gave you much greater satisfaction than you would have liked to admit. 

Riding on the elation that your prey, the source of your future, was in the palm of your hand, you wrapped up the rest of your performance perfectly, tying it up with a beautiful scarlet ribbon. Buggy was standing on the edge of the stage as you made your way down, bowing dramatically, knowing that you had succeeded in every goal he’d set for you. 

“Do you think I lured him in?” you asked softly, accepting the robe given to you by one of the stage-hands, a man just on the cusp of his twenties. 

Buggy smiled, his red-painted lips spreading across crooked teeth. “I don’t call you the diamond for nothing, do I, my dear?” he said, pinching your cheek. 

The rouge came off between his fingers, and your eyebrows crinkled, before releasing, as you remembered all the ways you could keep yourself from looking older. You swatted your friend-not-friend’s hand away before wrapping yourself tighter in the robe, feeling so much smaller and younger than you truly were. 

Despite all the men you’d taken to bed, all the nights you’d shared in throes of passion (their’s, of course, never your own), you still felt the scared, hardly-adult you’d been when you first set foot in Paris. 

Buggy noticed the change in your demeanor, as you tried to gear yourself up for an encounter with the Duke. The charming, blonde noble seemed kind enough, softer around the edges than many of the men you’d seduced over the years. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Never, though, would it be something that you wanted to do.

“What’s the matter, my gem?” Buggy asked, not quite in a way that was kind, but enough to show concern. His eyes were gentler than the rest of his appearance, and you weren’t sure you were grateful for it.

You curled away from his hands, sniffing back the onslaught of doubt and self-loathing that always came upon you when you used your body in such a way. It was something that you’d been taught to feel disgusted by, even though it kept a roof over your head, and the heads of the people that you’d come to call your family. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, because it was the truth. It was nothing new. The same blur of feelings that had haunted you since the first day you’d sold yourself to another still lingered. You’d always thought it would get easier… but it hadn’t. It still ended with you wanting to tear your skin from your body, but never following through with a slide of poison down your throat. 

Because that was the easy way, wasn’t it? A quick way to end your torment, without knowing if you’d ever see the other side. And, perhaps you weren’t as brave as you wanted to believe, but you wanted to see if there was another side. If there was a brighter end, a brighter future, where you could shine on the stage of the Palais Garnier as a real actress, and not just in the glittering scarlet lights of the Moulin Rouge. 

Buggy eyed you skeptically, any kindness in his irises now gone as his lips turned into a thin line. “It better be nothing,” he said, guiding you across the stage, before reaching a doorway that would send you up into the Elephant Room.

Which was the most private area of the Moulin Rouge, one saved for the most illicit affairs. It was your room, and only those patrons that were willing to pay the highest price were allowed entry. 

“Remember, I’ll send him up to you, and all you have to do is give him a night he won’t forget, alright?” Buggy stood in front of you, gripping your shoulders in a warning. “Now, show me that dazzling smile, diamond.”

Reluctantly, but with all the passion you had gathered in your chest, you smiled, knowing that it was real enough to set something alight in his own. The reaction — just a small quirk of his lips in return — was enough to let you know he was satisfied with the show you’d put on.

“There she is. We’ll have a new investor soon enough.” 

You were certain of that. You had to be certain of that, or your livelihood would be down the drain, and a future of shimmering lights and diamond-encrusted gowns would be out of the question. 

On the walk up the stairs, you spoke soft words in your head, hummed the same tune you did for every show. It reminded you of who you were — at least, who you were to them. The ones who would have sold an arm and leg for a chance to win your heart, even though, after all the years that passed, you didn’t think you had one to give anymore. 

The stage was all the love you had to offer. Perhaps, the only type of love you believed in, anymore. 

You made your way up the spiraling staircase to the Elephant Room, and opened the door with a sigh, letting your weight rest against the doorknob. For a moment, you deflated in the threshold like a woman in a Shakespearian tragedy, exhaling the tension that had wrought in your shoulders. 

Until you felt eyes slide across to you, unexpectedly, and you found you weren’t alone in the Elephant Room. 

Without pretense, the Duke was waiting for you, his eyes dancing along the interior, taking a moment to gaze at every corner of the room. There was interest in his irises, as he searched for other secrets of your life through your belongings

Then, the door slammed shut behind you, and the spell was broken. The Duke turned to face you, eyes widening with alarm, as your back went straight as a wire.

He wasn’t supposed to be there already.

A second slipped by, and you gawked at each other, your own mouth dry with the confusion and surprise of his ill-timed appearance. Surely Buggy hadn’t sent him to the Elephant Room already? You’d only just parted.

Well, you supposed it didn’t matter now anyway.  La vie continue.

Smoothly, you recovered, raising your shoulders to release an air of confidence, and smiled brightly. You twisted your hair across your collarbone, hoping it would highlight the smooth planes of your chest, where the ruby necklace had already been removed. “Ah, my apologies, monsieur. I wasn’t aware you were waiting for me.”

The Duke blinked as you strutted past him, taking the two quick steps to your vanity. Just enough to brush against him, feel the desire rolling off of him in waves. 

Pointedly, he tried hard not to let his eyes drift lower, tracing just along your hips before snapping back up to to the back of your head. “How would you have known?” His words came out thick, as if something was lodged deep in his chest. “I haven’t even introduced myself.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” you said over your shoulder, lowering your voice huskily. “I’ve heard so much about you. I trust your visit to the Moulin Rouge has been pleasant?” 

He met your gaze through the mirror, seemingly enraptured, and cleared his throat as he calculated a response. “Très agréable, mademoiselle.” 

You smiled, humming through an affirmative, before continuing. “Wonderful. I’ll be ready in just one moment.” Imperceptibly, you sprayed perfume, hoping it would mask the sweat that had gathered from your performance. Then, you made your way over to a cart, sifting through expensive bottles of alcohol. “Drink?” you said, speaking softly to yourself. “I have champagne or…” You shook each of the bottles, realizing they were all empty. Not a drop left. “Well. I have champagne.” 

“I’m alright, madame. Merci.”

You began to pour your own glass, which you would certainly be needing, when it dawned upon you that his accent was rather Parisian, and absolutely not as foreign as Buggy would have had you believe. Your champagne slipped, nearly spilling over the edges of the cup, before you turned to eye the blonde with what you hoped with a sultry grin. 

“Ah. Your French is very beautiful,” you said, smiling over the edge of your glass as you sipped at it, wondering if your eyes were as alluring as you believed. “You’re a quick learner.”

He stared at you, lines creasing his features as his lips parted, obvious skepticism weaved within his posture. Then, without another word, he ignited the cigarette he had slipped between his lips, the end glowing before he inhaled. A long drag was taken from it, settling in his lungs. “Je suis désolé, mademoiselle. I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said, exhale releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. 

You laughed, a high-pitched giggle that turned you back to face him, his free hand stuffed in his pocket like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Usually people answer compliments with another thank you, but it’s no matter.” You forced another small sound up out of you, suddenly unsure exactly what to do next. 

He was… not what you’d been expecting, and the usual turn of events wasn’t progressing as it should have been. The Duke was supposed to be an intimidating man, one who knew what he wanted and would take it without question. That's what you'd heard, anyway. You were starting to wonder if what Buggy had told you were nothing but rumors. 

Waving the comment off, you made your way back to the vanity, checking that your scarlet lipstick had not smeared. His lingering gaze still traced against every curve of your body, and you stuck your hips out further, leaning towards the mirror with a small grin. “I apologize I didn’t have time to change. I wasn’t expecting you here so soon.”

The Duke nodded, only slowly processing your words before tapping on the cigarette. “Oh, there’s… no need.” Then, he shook his head, blinking, as if cringing internally. “Unless you’re uncomfortable. In that case, I’ll um… turn around.” 

You laughed, hiccuping as the quick gulps of champagne came bubbling up inside of you. “Well, it’s no matter, really. I’m sure they’ll come off soon enough.” The comment was meant to be a simple segue into the rather normal routine of your work, low and seductive. 

Instead, his eyes went wide, cheeks flushed as he looked, quite pointedly, anywhere but you. “No,” his voice rang at a higher pitch as you stalked towards him, your glass of champagne drained and discarded. “No, I’d really rather you keep them on, actually.”

You blinked, a bit puzzled by that. But it wasn’t the strangest request you’d ever gotten, and you were determined to please him, just as Buggy had requested. “Alright. Whatever you want, amour.” 

Like a cat, you crept up to the Duke, splaying your hands across his chest. A small sound left his throat, cheeks turning a darker shade as he took a step back, grasping for words. Your hand fisted his tie, satisfied by his reaction as you followed his stumbling lead back towards the bed. 

“How would you prefer to start?” you whispered, as his knees hit the edge of the heart-shaped mattress, legs buckling until he was flat on his back, gawking up at you from the bed. “I admit you are a hard one to read. Just say the word, I can be whatever you want.”

You scrambled on top of his thighs, dress hiked up to reveal the smoothness of your own legs, which quickly caught his attention.

“I-I’m not sure that we’re on the same page here,” he said, swallowing, though watching every one of your movements with rapt attention. 

You plucked the cigarette from his lips, and took a long drag, smiling down at him. 

The smoke filled your lungs, calming your nerves marginally. They were cheap cigarettes — not those usually desired by the nobility, but who were you to judge for odd preferences? He’d found his way here to you, after all. 

“No?” you answered softly, taking one more long inhale of the cigarette before you leaned forward, placing it into the ashtray, still burning. There was a long streak of red from your lipstick, staining the thin cylinder of white. “Then what is it that you’re here for?”  

He exhaled, fingers reaching up along your thighs, the touch so featherlight that you almost weren’t sure it was even there. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten the question entirely, jaw slackened as he stared at you above him, before he swallowed, and sat up on his forearms. 

The movement brought your faces even closer together, his nose just centimeters from brushing your own. It was then you realized just how blue his eyes were, the color illuminated by the dim candlelight, deep hues of turquoise and navy swirling together to create a stormy sea. His thick, blonde eyelashes fluttered closed as he blinked at you, and the movement alone brought you out of your stupor, his voice raspy upon each syllable.  

“I’m here for the play…?” 

You drew back, needing a moment to breathe as you squinted your eyes to study him. It was rare for you to get a client like him, wealthy, but so uncertain, a charm about him that you couldn’t quite pin. They were never as handsome either, most far older than you, willing to throw cash at a younger, beautiful woman. 

Questions raised at the back of your mind, desperate to be asked, but you ignored them, beaming as you angled your head. “Ah. Of course. The play.” Your voice was saccharine, octaves higher than your usual volume. “What is my role, then?” you asked, tugging off his tie as you leaned into him, your lips just barely brushing his own. His breath was hot against your mouth, a hint of cheap alcohol still lingering on his breath. “I’m far too used to being the seductress, but I can be the damsel in distress, if you’d prefer that.” 

“Your role…” It was said more to himself than anything, not stopping you as your fingers began to unbutton his starched white shirt. You tilted your head forward, noses brushing together as you rested your forehead against his. 

The air grew warm between you, and for a moment, a beautiful, fleeting second, you lost yourself. Your grip on his top grew slack, fingertips caressing the warm expanse of his chest. He breathed into your mouth, and your eyes fell shut, letting him connect his lips to your own, the moment exploding in a rush of beautiful, ruby fireworks. 

And you were keen, then, to let him do whatever he would have wanted, his touch so featherlight and gentle, you wondered if you could have fallen in love with him. How quickly your heart, coated in steel and another layer of iron, betrayed you, dropping from your own chest right into the palms of the man that you needed as a savior.

But the moment did not last so long, and your vulnerability evaporated as quickly as the layer of dew beyond la Seine. As if coming back to himself, he choked, pulled away from your lips and pushed you back by the shoulders, staring at you with wide eyes and warm, tinted cheeks. 

You paused, watching as he rushed to his feet like he couldn’t get up fast enough. How easily the mood had soured, even as he muttered one apology after another, unable to meet your gaze. 

The Duke’s hands were shaky as he held the cigarette to his mouth, eyes fixated on the ceiling. He had plucked the same one back up from the ashtray, the streak of your bold, crimson lipstick imprinted on the end of it.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hoping the worry wasn’t obvious in your words. If there was a problem, you were desperate to fix it. You couldn’t afford to ruin this, not when so many things were at stake.

He hesitated, another cloud of smoke leaving his mouth as he waved his hand around, ash falling from the cigarette. “I’m sorry — I’m sorry. I can’t focus when you’re,” he swallowed, cheeks burning, despite the hardness very obvious in his pants, “looking at me like that.” 

“Focus?” you said in gentle confusion, eyebrows pinched tighter, as the beginnings of a dreadful realization dawned upon on you. 

Feeling discarded on the bed, you sat and watched as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, straightening like it was an important doctrine, before clearing his throat, and reciting a beautifully composed poem. 

The words were horrifically romantic, each line strung into another as if they had been pieced together by his very own heartstrings. And though you had not processed a single word, it had still struck a cord down deep in your weathered heart, and you continued to stare, sick with your own shame. 

It was beautiful — hauntingly so — a poem of love that could rival even the greatest of French writers. But, all you could think about was the pounding in the back of your mind, the panic steadily rising up within you.  

“You’re here for a play. An actual play,” you said stupidly, gaping back at him, your entire body going rigid with embarrassment. “You’re serious.” No longer was your tone beautifully high-pitched, innocent despite your sensuality. It had lowered in horror, your eyes going wide as you realized that all of this was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding.

Which seemed a lackluster reaction to whatever he was looking for, and he frowned, tilted his head back before heavily inhaling another puff of smoke. “Well, I suppose I would prefer that sort of reaction to hearing that my writing is awful. The play wasn’t my idea, just for the record.” 

“Writer?” you screeched, scrambling to your feet. “You’re not a Duke? Not the Duke?” 

His eyebrows lifted, searching your face for any hint of a joke, and when he found none, he laughed, face splitting beautifully with a smile. He gestured to himself like he was amazed you would even think so, his suit hardly of the latest fashions, the cufflinks a dulling silver. 

Which, in hindsight, was truly a marvelous mistake. 

“No, I am not a duke.” His forehead wrinkled, and he, finally, stamped the cigarette out on the ashtray, subtly putting the stub back into his pocket. “Is that why you thought I couldn’t speak French? Je viens de Paris. I thought that was obvious.” Once more, he laughed, smiling in a manner that was far too out of place for the situation. Then, just as dramatically, his face fell, eyes going wide with concern. “Hold on. Did you not know that I would be here?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, putting your finger to his chest as you shot forward, glaring with the heat of a thousand suns. Your features morphed into something horrible, though you doubted it was as intimidating as you hoped. “No, I have been waiting on a Duke, not some amateur, impoverished writer from this dreadful city I regret ever stepping foot in. And if you tell me that you’re another one of Luffy’s tragic bohemian protégés—”

He smiled sheepishly, tilting his head before you could even finish your sentence. “Well. First of all, I wouldn’t say I’m an amateur.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, a sound leaving your throat in dismay as another voice — the exact voice you were hoping not to hear — called out from the window. 

“Sanji!” Luffy said, a headful of black hair falling over the side, grinning at both of you. “How’s it going? Have you convinced her yet?” 

“No!” you shouted, already rushing towards the window, shooing Luffy away. Over and over you repeated the word, Luffy merely swinging back and forth from whatever rope he’d tied himself to, more amused than anything “Get out of here, Luffy! I should’ve known it was you that put him up to this.” 

For years, Luffy had been trying to recruit you, hoping you'd be an actress in one of his performances, and that the Moulin Rouge would be the place that funded it.

With his endless confidence, Luffy was certain that one day, he would create the best production in the history of Paris. But you were certainly skeptical of his ideas ever taking off, Buggy even more-so, and he refused to put even a single franc towards funding any of Luffy's productions.

Despite the rejection, you continued to get pestered, Luffy somehow convinced that he could help you become an established actress quicker than your current occupation could.

Luffy laughed, still with the audacity to ask if you liked Sanji’s writing, and you pushed his head back out the window, muttering profanities to yourself. 

“Who’s with you? Usopp? Zoro? I’m going to kill all three of you!” 

You yelled that last bit louder, just to be sure the two men you knew were up on the roof could hear you as well. And, just as expected, a muttered string of words escaped Zoro, and a much louder, panicked sound came from Usopp. 

They peeked their heads into the window with Luffy. 

“I tried to stop him,” Usopp said, wailing as Zoro hushed him, his dark eyes clouded with regret. “I knew it was a horrible plan, I’m so sorry.” 

Your lips drew into a thin line, unconvinced, despite all the theatrics. “I want you all out! Get back up there before—” 

Footsteps started up the stairs, and your eyes went wide, panicked as the voices of Buggy and the Duke, the real duke, started up the stairs. 

“Leave!” you hissed, shoving Luffy and Usopp back out the window, before turning to face Sanji, who was rather uselessly standing in the middle of the floor. Groaning, you gripped him by the arm, pulling him across the room as you scanned for a good hiding spot. “Hide. I need you to hide. He can’t see you.”  

“What’s going on?” Sanji asked. “Luffy told me—”

You released a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m certain Luffy told you a lot of things,” you huffed, letting your hand slip down into his own as you dragged him into a corner of the room. “Unfortunately, Luffy’s plans are sometimes too grand, and he needs someone to bring him down to Earth. Which you, clearly, did not do and now—”

Your name was called out from behind the door, and you cursed, pushing Sanji into the corner of the room, near the vanity. “Stay there. Just… hide under something!” 

“Where?” 

But the door was already opening, and you scrambled into a chair, running your fingers across your hair to make sure you seemed somewhat presentable. You brought your legs up under you, lowering your gaze to bat your eyelashes as the Duke and Buggy entered the room, both staring at you with intrigue. 

“Here she is,” Buggy said, gesturing towards you with a curious look in his eye, a dark smile forming on his painted face. There was a warning there, one that you were not foolish enough to ignore. “My beautiful diamond. Hopefully just as lovely as she was up on the stage tonight.” 

The Duke’s regard for you was hardly passionate, though you could see a sliver of desire under all the layers of intimidation. He was a tall man, dark hair falling to his shoulders in thick strands. A long scar ran across his cheekbones, over the bridge of his nose, and he looked down at you, studying every piece of you like you were nothing more than a decoration to admire. 

You waited for him to say something, but it was clear he was waiting for the same, and you stood, perhaps too rapidly, and made your way over to him. 

“Monsieur, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” you smiled, if only to ease the anxiety strung through your body. Dipping your head, you looked back up at him with siren eyes, “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit.”

The Duke paused for another moment, studying you before taking your hand, and kissing it softly. It was a soothing gesture, despite the intensity of his eyes. Tension seeped gradually from your shoulders. 

“The pleasure is mine, my dear,” he said, his voice deep, raspy. “And there’s no need for such pleasantries when we’ll be acquainted soon enough.” His thumb ran across your cheek, before his hand fell back to his side. “I’d prefer Crocodile.”

Buggy, just feet behind the Duke, began to back away, exhaling in relief. “Well, I will leave you to it, then. And—”

That was all he could get out, as the scene shattered. 

Before Buggy could make his escape, a sound came from the window, a yelp, then an echoing shout, as Luffy, Usopp and Zoro fell down from the window, swinging into the room from the dangling rope. They landed in a somersaulting heap, just inches from where Sanji had been hiding, and your jaw slackened, before your entire body stiffened once more. 

Not a word rang through the room as you stared at the three of them, Crocodile sliding his gaze over to you for an explanation. The silence was tangible, heavy with uncertainty. 

A nervous laugh left Buggy, but it was quickly cut off as Usopp pulled both Zoro and Luffy up by their coats, and exclaimed, “Are you ready for rehearsal?” 

“Rehearsal…” you muttered, and at the same time, Crocodile posed the words as a question, his eyes narrowed, unamused.

“I wasn’t aware that there were other things going on this evening,” he said.

“Ah,” you continued, keeping yourself composed as you moved to stand in front of him. “Non, there’s nothing going on we just…” Internally you cursed, over and over, glancing at Buggy, who was near to shouting at Luffy, the two of them locked in a stand-off. There would be no help from any of them it seemed, as they waited for your reaction.

You placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of Crocodile, softening your expression into one of expectation. “Well, I know this isn’t what you had in mind, monsieur, but we thought now would be a good time to introduce you to our new production… Right, Buggy? While we’re all here together, of course. A once in a while opportunity.” 

You smiled, eyes narrowing exaggeratedly at Buggy, before the obvious question became clear to him. 

“Oh,” he nodded slowly, before bursting into the same smile he always used for your shows. “Right. Of course. Our new show—”

“Which, we have written specifically for you, Sir, if you would be so keen on investing.” You took Crocodile’s arm gently, leading him past the chair where Sanji was hiding, hopeful he would reacquaint himself with the rest of the troupe. And, as if reading your mind, Sanji scrambled to his feet, standing alongside Zoro and Usopp like he’d been there all along.

You exhaled softly, continuing to the Duke, “It was going to be a surprise, but we supposed it would be best for you to see it now, before we started any production. You are so wise with your investments, we didn’t want to be presumptuous.” 

Crocodile gave you an odd look, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he believed you. Then, you flashed him a hopeful smile, naive under all the great bravado, and he relented, amused by your earnestness. 

“Well, I am not usually interested in investing in such small ordeals, but…” He waved a hand, before running the other down the breadth of your spine, a touch that was near possessive. “If it stars our lovely diamond, it is sure to be a hit, no?” 

You relaxed, making a show of leaning into his advances. 

“Of course,” Buggy proclaimed, far too intense for your liking, as he tried to ease the Duke back out of the Elephant Room. “Would you like to get started on paperwork? How about we work out the details, and we’ll find another evening for you and—”

Crocodile raised a hand, the room swiftly silenced. “I need to know the story first, before we handle business. Not even the most beautiful of stars can carry a dying universe, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, his eyes so intense it was hard to muster up the courage to speak.

“Story?” You blinked, your smile falling. “Yes. Right. The story. Well, that’s an excellent question, and you would be certain to ask that, of course…” You looked to Buggy, then Usopp, who seemed all too happy to blend in with the shadows. Then to Zoro, who stood stiffly, and shrugged. Finally, your eyes landed on Luffy, who was grinning wildly and pushing Sanji forward, far too excited that this was all taking place.

“Here’s our writer,” Luffy proclaimed, patting Sanji on the back before taking a step away and crossing his arms. “Go on and tell them.” 

Which was a way to say the play hasn’t been written yet, and we’re making this all up as we go, in less obvious words. 

You wanted to melt into the floor, curl away from the hot palm that still rested on the small of your back, as you stared at Sanji helplessly, begging him to come up with an answer. 

And while the time seem to pass far too slowly for your liking, he didn’t even fumble for words as he nodded to you, dragging his eyes across the audience that was watching him expectantly. 

“It’s about love,” he said smoothly, confidence seemingly regained now that you weren’t the only person in the room. “It’s about love overcoming all obstacles.”

His eyes met yours once again, so deeply blue and beautiful. Against your better judgment, your heart surged out of your chest. 

“Yes! And it’s set in Switzerland!” Luffy exclaimed, laughing with delight. 

“No, no,” Sanji snapped, before recovering his story, mind working rapidly as he thought up a tale that would be imaginative enough to spark the interest of the Duke. “It’s set on the seas!” Then he lowered his overexcited voice, the words softening with adoration. “And there’s a courtesan. The most beautiful courtesan in the world.” 

Sanji's gaze fixed on you, and you blinked away, hating that awful feeling that bloomed in your heart. Still, a small smile tugged at your lips, one that you hid from everyone else. 

“But,” he said, tearing his attention away from you. “Her city’s been invaded by an evil pirate Warlord. Now, in order to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the evil Warlord. But, on the night of her seduction, she mistakes a penniless… A penniless…” He looked around helplessly, licking his lips. “A penniless cook, and she falls in love with him. He wasn’t trying to trick her, but he was dressed as a prince because… well… he was trying to infiltrate the Warlord’s headquarters.” 

“And I will play the captain of the crew that the cook works on!” Usopp interjected, taking a step in front of Sanji, his arms raised high with excitement, far too proud of himself. 

You coughed down a laugh as Crocodile regarded him with an impatient look. “Alright... What happens next?”

Sanji spared a quick scowl to Usopp, before regaining the attention of everyone in the room, weaving each word with precision. “Well, the cook and the courtesan, they are to hide their love from the evil Warlord—”

“With the help of their actual Captain, who has magical powers where he’s made out of rubber!” Luffy, this time, decided to add his own artistic storytelling, which silenced the entire room from skepticism.

Sanji blinked, hesitant. “Yes, well, that part’s still in the works,” he promised Crocodile, waving his hand dismissively. “There’ll be a crew, with a swordsman and a navigator… and of course the Warlord will have his own set of pirates working for him. It’s a grand production, the embodiment of the Bohemian ideals…” 

Sanji continued the story, crafting a plot of truth, beauty, freedom and love. But you were focused only on him, the passion with which he spun the tale, softening at the tragic romance that would take place between the courtesan and the cook. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you would smile, if only slightly, with encouragement, enough to keep up his unwavering confidence until the end. 

"The finale hasn't been written yet,” he admitted, wrapping up his summary of the unfinished play, as the rest of you huddled around Crocodile for a reaction, his face dreadfully unreadable. “But—”

“We would love to get you involved artistically,” Buggy interrupted, excited by the prospects of the thrilling production and an investor. “If you have any suggestions.” 

A tense ten seconds passed, as Crocodile regarded each one of you, thoughtful. “The story could use some work,” he mused. “But, generally I like it.” 

An eruption of cheers burst out from each of you, and you smiled, giggling as you leaned into the Duke, hopeful that your gratitude was evident. Across the room, Sanji relaxed, lighting up another cigarette, and Buggy gestured forward, talking at such a rapid speed you were certain his words were slurring together. 

“Come, come with me,” he said, ushering Crocodile out of the room. “We’ll talk business.” 

Crocodile followed, but spared one last moment for you, as you followed the two men to the door, guiding him out. 

“I apologize that our evening together was different than anticipated,” you said, as genuinely as you could, tracing a hand down his chest. “Perhaps another night would be best for us to talk.” 

“Perhaps.” He hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his smile widening crookedly. “I still need to get acquainted with our star. Fame will suit you, my dear.” 

You smiled, a surge of pride overcoming you, one so strong that you couldn’t even wallow in the discomfort of his touch. “I look forward to it.” 

The two of you parted, the moment evaporating as Crocodile followed Buggy out the door. And, when it finally slammed shut behind the two of them, you exhaled, all of the anxiety leaving your body in a flush. 

The four other men went silent as you whirled on them, expressions dour as they waited for you to be the first to speak. Sanji’s jaw was tight as he looked away from the door, back to you, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

But, you were still reeling on your success, too excited to care about the anger you’d felt earlier. You broke into a cheerful grin, rushing to throw your arms around the young ring-leader. “Luffy,” you said, close to weeping. Things weren’t over yet, but there was a parting in the clouds, a sun shining through, as the hope of a future, a better one, became real. “Thank you. For the first time, one of your ridiculous plans actually worked. I’m very grateful.” 

He smiled like it was nothing, and your laughter became infectious, bubbling out of you in an effort to keep down your tears. You turned to the other two, both watching you curiously. 

“Usopp, thank you for that wonderful recovery. I’m not sure what we would have done if you’d not planned an emergency rehearsal.” 

He grinned wide, puffing his chest out. “Ah, well, I knew someone had to act fast.” 

Lastly, you turned to the green-haired man, and his name sooner died on your lips, when you realized he had contributed very little. “Zoro. You were useless actually.” 

Sanji snorted, and though Zoro’s face twitched, he didn’t bother saying anything to the writer. “You looked like you had it handled.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well. I suppose we did.” You rolled your eyes, your mood suddenly deflating. The high of panic and elation had worn on you, leaving you with an ache in the back of your head, your hands still jittery. “Anyway, I’ve just about had all the fun I can handle for one night—”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro scoffed, a jab at your rather unconventional occupation.

You ignored him, pushing them all towards the door. “—I am very grateful for your help in getting our new investor, but we’ve got a busy week ahead, and I would like some rest. So, leave.” 

They all held their hands up in surrender, and while Sanji hadn’t been a part of the group you’d been addressing, he slowly followed when Luffy called out to him. There was talk of throwing a party across the street, at the dingy apartment complex that all the Bohemians lived in, despite it being late already.

The four of them made to leave, waving enthusiastically as they rushed down the stairs, far too worked up to be quiet. Sanji lagged behind them, giving you a kind smile before making his exit, a soft bonne nuit, escaping his lips.

“Sanji…” You called out, just before he closed the door behind him, his hand resting on the frame. Sanji turned, glancing over his shoulder, bright eyes pinning you right where you stood. “I’m sorry. So very sorry for the misunderstanding.” You waved your hand, drawing your fingers across your face to rest on your cheeks, already warm with shame. “I feel horrible.”

He paused, before a a grin split his face, irises burning with soft intensity. “Don’t,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I enjoyed it, actually.” 

thank u so much for reading and for all the endless support!! i appreciate you all so very much ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

tagging those who rb'd / commented <3 pls let me know if you'd like to be added !

@cerberels / @keeper-of-my-heart / @chuuminn / @eussstasss / @mncxbe / @tetzoro / @msheds0519 / @awealuc / @akuma-coffee / @stunie / @chositooo / @piichuu

[randy-jester]

Re-Uploaded from r/thehauntedmansion , but here's new Tarot Card themed character posters for the new movie. Specifically the ones featuring the ghosts!

Here's the link to the original post with all the character posters (mostly featuring foolish mortals)

Anyway, thoughts?

[young-royals-confessions]

How means it March 11 and March 18? Every day is episodes? Or is all at once. Is confession I don't get dates!

I think it means episodes 1-5 will be released March 11, and episode 6 (the finale) will be released March 18.

And I think it's released at 9am CET.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

sighhh I miss the parts of this shitshow that were easy to write

“How about tequila shots?” John asks.  He’s already pouring.

They crowd together on the edge of the bed, Christine in the middle, and toast each other before they take the shot.

Christine holds her glass out for another.  “My dad and I have always said we can shut down any pub,” she says.

“Checkout's at noon,” John says.  “We’ve got what, 7 hours to finish getting proper fucked up.”

Frank feels like an electrical storm is about to break out in the room.  His whole body hums and the air is so heavy it hurts.  John is looking at Christine too hard, his eyes wide, and it’s suddenly obvious he wants to fuck her, even though Frank wouldn’t have thought of her as his type.  He wonders if Christine has realized this too.  John looks at Frank next.  Frank feels weak when those green eyes lock on to his.  He would do anything John asked.  He wishes John would ask.

“You two aren’t hiding anything with the perfume,” John says.  He pours them each another shot, the glasses quickly overflowing and spilling down his hand.  Frank takes John’s wrist before he loses his courage, licks a stripe down the fresh tequila.

[papasmistakeria]

They’d really add Boimler and Mariner (two characters from WAY in the future) in SNW and still refuse to have an Enterprise episode

[taegularities]

Scheduled live on weverse isn't really live, right? I mean is it pre-recorded?

oh i do think scheduled weverse lives are actually live, too! like, there are no subs and they read the comments that come in; i feel like the pre-recorded stuff is usually on yt 🤔

[beedreamscape]

ok ok so the replenishment happens every seven years, and it's been 292 years since Avalir took off... but that divided by seven doesn't round up to an even number, so -- and there's a big chance I might've missed some info or whatever -- for the purpose of detailing, Avalir should be 294 years old on its 42nd replenishment.

[brain-empty]

so Pintrest gave me a screenshot of a Tumblr post saying to draw my OTP in the outfits above I'm conflicted cuz smth in me wants to do it (because I love seeing one of those characters in dresses/skirts, it suits him in a way I can't describe without that one fanart of him) but the other part of me is like "nope I'm going to be killed by half the fandom thankuverymuch" and I don't like posts getting attention let alone negative attention soo...currently stuck at a crossroad

[ellecdc]

babe I recently discovered ur account and now I'm obsessed!!!!! I have devoured ur masterlist! Also I'm new to tumblr so I'm sorry if I'm doing or saying anything wrong pls correct me! I just wanna hype u up queen! Also ok fic request! It's not smut it's smut adjacent! I imagine this with Remus but u can totally change it if u want! Imagine reader whose boobs get super sore before her period and may be Remus is trying to initiate sex like they r making out and he goes to touch her boob and she winces and he's like did I just hurt u? And she's like no no it's fine and may be he believes her but he touches her again and she flinches and he's just like what is wrong don't lie and it's that her ex never cared if her boobs hurt or sex sad painful before her period and just Remus love (sorry it's so long def self indulgent bc my boobs r super sore and sex kinda hurts leading up my period and I just want someone to understand and not make me feel guilty about it)

aawweeee so glad you found me! and thanks for the prompt, lovie <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader whose boobs are sore close to her period [1.4k words]

CW: things get sort of steamy/lead up to smut with no real smut, sexual & non-sexual nudity, mature themes, 18+

You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face when you heard Remus navigating the hall in a way you could tell he thought to be quiet before his head of messy, tawny brown curls appeared in the crack of your bedroom door.

“Hi dove.” He murmured softly as if still unsure if you were asleep or not; his eyes were warm and sweet as honey as he smiled widely and unbiddenly at you.

“Hi handsome.” You greeted in return as you put your book down and invited him in which he accepted eagerly.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moaned as he crawled up into the bed and melted into you; arms weasingly around your middle as he shoved his face into the crook of your neck greedily. 

“Missed me?” You laughed as you threaded your fingers through his hair. “You were hardly gone three hours.”

“S’too long.” He mumbled, earning him a giggle as you tried to pull away at the tickle of his breath against your neck.

He groaned somewhat hungrily as he pulled you in tighter, beginning to trace kisses up the column of your throat.

You tightened your grip of his hair which only seemed to spur him on as he shifted so he was hovering over half of you. 

“Didn’t you miss me?” He asked under his breath before bringing his lips to yours for an agonisingly long and slow kiss. “Hm?” He continued as if he hadn’t just impeded your ability to answer him. 

“I always miss you, Rem.” You murmured back as he began marking kisses along your jaw and trailing towards your chest. 

He made a sympathetic sound as he got to the top of the tank top you usually slept in, hooking his finger along the neckline and pulling it out of his way to expose your - quite swollen, actually - tits. 

“Neither of us should ever be allowed to leave.” He concurred, switching between wet, open mouthed kisses and sucking love bites into your exposed skin. 

“Don’t you think your friends would miss you?” You asked then, thoroughly enjoying the show as you continued to mess with his hair. 

“Tough.” He said simply before moving his hand to cup one of your breasts to lift it into his mouth, causing you to suck in a pained breath.

All movements stopped and Remus seemed to be holding his breath as his eyes flit up to yours. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked cautiously.

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding and nodded at him. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” You agreed, trying to ignore how painfully sensitive your boobs were this close to your period as you encouraged his face back down to your chest.

With only a little hesitation, he continued his ministrations before moving over to your other to bestow upon it the same amount of care. 

You could feel him growing hard as he repositioned himself in your lap, and you tried to focus on that slightly warm feeling trying to grow between your legs (though not nearly as effectively as it had been the week prior) and his pleasure as you allowed him to take from you what he pleased.

But one more firm grasp of your tit had you wincing with a small whine and a flip was switched.

Remus was kneeling; his hands no longer on you which only made you wince in embarrassment rather than pain as he scrutinised you.

“What happened, dove? What’d I do?”

“Nothing, Rem, you didn’t do an-”

“Don’t fib.” He interrupted, his tone stern but his lip jutting out in a very dramatic pout. 

“I’m okay.” You murmured, though you did attempt to sit up and replace your boobs into the confinement of your tank top. Remus watched the action with rapt attention. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked then, and his voice sounded so small that you actually wanted to cry.

“No! No, baby, I’m- ugh, I’m sorry, you didn’t hurt me, I’m just hurting.” You appeased, reaching out to stroke his arm in a manner you hoped to be soothing. 

He seemed to consider your form again as his shoulders sagged. “You’re sore.” He concluded. 

“Yeah, I… well, I get a little sore around this time of the month, you know?” You admitted, watching as Remus’ expression shifted from one of worry to one of abject horror.

“Dovey.” He chided as he stared at you wide eyed.

“It’s okay! I’m fine, we can keep going if you want, I-”

But you only seemed to horrify him even more as his head reared back in shock. “Keep going!? Baby, you are sore to the touch and you were just going to let me maul you?!”

You found yourself very much ill-prepared for this conversation as you shook your head in confusion. “Well, I just meant, if you wanted to we-”

But Remus was scoffing and waving you off before standing abruptly and moving towards the attached bathroom, scolding you along the way.

“Bollocks to what I want, dove. My desire doesn’t come before your comfort.” He explained before you heard water running and him muttering something in Welsh under his breath. 

You were having a hard time understanding whether you were in actual trouble or not before he came padding back out of the bathroom - still muttering to himself in Welsh - with a divot between his brows and a damp washcloth in his hands.

“Take this off, dove.” He directed; tone now soft and alerting you to the fact that there was no real heat behind his chiding.

You obediently shed your tank top and tossed aside as Remus guided you to lay back onto your pillows and placed the cold cloth on your chest.

“Poor girls.” He cooed as he situated himself beside you. “Was being s’mean to them, too.” 

“Rem-”

He simply shushed you and placed a quick kiss on your nose before dotting a gentle one on each of your tits. 

“They’re gonna hate me; they’re gonna think I’m a monster.” He lamented woefully before standing up to change into his pyjamas. 

“They don’t know a damn thing.” You laughed as you let out a breath, relishing in the ease of your banter with Remus.

You weren’t used to it; things being easy, that is. Relationships always felt like hard work before.

Your relationship with Remus still required work, mind you, but it wasn’t hard; it was comfortable and patient and flexible and understanding.

There was no forcing puzzle pieces to fit when their edges didn’t match, there was no walking on eggshells wondering what sort of mood he was going to be in, and there was no stewing on conversations as you tried and failed to fall asleep at night wondering what in the hell you’d manage to do wrong this time.

No, Remus was easy; he was easy to get along with, easy to live with, easy to love.

He was just so easy.

You hoped he thought the same of you.

“Dovey.” He murmured quietly, now apparently kneeling on the floor on your side of the bed as he rested his chin on his forearms. “You know that, right?” He continued when you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Know what?” 

His mouth pursed again in a small pout before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. 

“That what I want should never come before what you need; that my desires are nowhere near as important as your comfort.”

His eyes moved to watch as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “Okay.” You whispered.

He let out a sad breath as his brows twitched in sympathy, but you were thankful he opted not to comment on it. 

“I love you.” He offered then, eyes moving back up to yours as he used one of his knuckles to rub at your upper arm affectionately.

“I love you too.” You answered readily. 

He seemed appeased by that and stood to press a more assured kiss to your lips. “Do you want me to run this under cold water again? Or would something else help?”

You pretended to think about it before looking back up at him through your lashes. “Think we could cuddle?”

Remus let out a chuckle as he pressed another kiss, this time to your forehead, and pulled the cloth off of your chest. 

“It’s like you read my mind, sweetheart.”

[ursachaotic]

i got the book of bill! i read it in one night! i'm very sad :' ) so i'm coping via drawing lol

for about the next month, any book of bill related drawings i post will be under a cut! 😤 i'll probably share these again later outside of a cut, but yeah i don't want anyone to get spoiled :0

⚠️ BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!

haha i'm coping (THIS BOOK BROKE MY HEART MAN LOL)

the ending??? devastated me??? not only because my favorite character told me i bETRAYED HIM AND HE HATES ME (BILLY NO 😭💔) but also the "someday someone will let me out" bit was really heartbreaking. i just want this dumb corn chip to be happy 🥲 (I really hope there's more in the future. I hope this isn't it for my poor boi pls I need him to be happy holy shit)

(Also I'm thinking of coloring the first sketch!!)

The form Bill has on the Codes page is one of my favorite forms of his now and I headcanon that that's how he looks when he blacks out while trying to remember what happened to his home dimension 😬

Lastly, I got so upset over the ending that I just went "FUCK IT MY SONA'S GONNA SAVE HIS ASS" ASDHFOIDSAH EXPECT BILL AND MASON DOODLES NOW LMAO (edit: i did not clarify at all but my name is mason so that's why my sona is named mason!! i see personas and self-inserts as the same thing but i could be wrong so pls correct me if that's not the case lol)

[spiritingon]

did they say karim was like.... not too handsome or something??? i think i heard it wrong but im pretty sure "not too handsome" was there? 😭

[eitaababe]

PLS write me a headcannon of lo'ak and neteyam reacting to another person trying to court their girl !!

THAT'S MY GIRL !

a/n — u always have the best ideas istg / also i didnt proof read this i got lazy 😭

—

NETEYAM :

- he was pretty confident, if he were to say so himself

- you liked him and he liked you, it was simple really.

- it had been that way for years, and you guys thought your relationship with each other was pretty public, everyone knowing about you two

- clearly, you both were wrong.

- because you had caught the eye of another na'vi, unknowingly

- yorutro, was his name, and at first you truly believed he was just being friendly

- until he started gifting you shells, bracelets, tops, you name it.

- you accepted them, feeling bad, but would never wear them

- and you hadn't told neteyam yet, because you wanted to be sure your suspicions of him were correct

- and of course, the day you decided you were right, neteyam saw yorutro come up to you

- he hid at first, but the moment he saw the way the other male looked at you, he didn't waste time to break the meeting up.

"Hey!" Neteyam shouted, stomping his way over to you two. He tried his best to keep his temper hidden, flashing a flat smile. "What're you two doing here?"

Your eyes widened in shock, yet you were relieved. You glanced back and forth between the boys, giving Neteyam a subtle shrug when he raised an eye at the sight of you two together.

"Oh- um-" Yorutro stammered, alarmed at the sudden intrusion. "Just chatting." He finished, sending an all too nice smile Neteyam's way.

Noticing the boys nervous nature, Neteyam smirked, wrapping his arms around your figure. "Hey man, no worries. I was just looking for my girl."

You internally facepalmed, trying your best not to laugh at how Yorutro practically jumped at the words, scrambling to get out of your guys way. "Oh! That's fine! You can have her! I um- I had something I forgot about anyways. See you guys!"

Eyes following him, Neteyam waited until he was out of earshot to speak. "What a skxawng," he pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. "Thinking he could steal my girl."

Leaning your head back you smiled up at him, shaking your head. "You know I'm yours, my love."

"And I am yours."

——

LO'AK :

- in everyone's defense, you and lo'ak were pretty much just a couple of best friends

- i mean, minus the kissing and cuddling and all that

- but you had more of a teasing relationship, neither of you were really that lovey dovey with each other out in public

- PDA just wasn't really your guys thing

- so who could blame the other na'vi trying to shoot his shot?

- enlo was a nice guy, really (at least you thought, lo'ak felt otherwise)

- but he definitely wasn't subtle about his intentions with you

- as much as you tried to give hints you didn't feel that way, he kept trying

- you told lo'ak, and while he requested to just tell him straight up to screw off, you felt that was mean, and wanted to let him down easily

- it took some convincing, but lo'ak agreed and you were on your way to meet enlo, lo'ak coming and watching from a close distance (just in case)

"y/n!" enlo called, striding over towards you.

'oh, eywa' you thought to yourself, flashing him a smile. "hi, enlo," you started, glancing around for lo'ak. when you met his eyes he gave you a reassuring smile, encouraging you to go on. "we need to talk."

"yes we do!" he agreed, cutting you off. "i actually had something really important to ask you."

uh oh.

"oh? what is it?" you played along, tail nervously flicking behind you.

"we'll, i've been thinking recently. i really enjoy your company. you're beautiful, and smart, and-"

"enlo," you cut him off, trying to save him from making this worse. "i'm flattered, really, i am. and i think you're a nice guy. but i'm with someone."

his expression hardened, looking down at you. "you're seeing who?"

"she's seeing me, dickhead." lo'ak called out, immediately standing by your side.

enlo looked between the two of you, almost offended. "seriously, you're choosing this five fingered freak over me?"

"hey!" you snapped, about to step up to him when lo'ak put an arm in front of you to stop you.

"don't worry y/n, i got this," he stated with a smug look, walking up to enlo. lo'ak definitely wasn't as tall as him, but he didn't show anything that suggested that bothered him. "so, enlo."

"y'know, having five fingers really has it's perks. you can hold more things, you have a better grip. oh! and you even have an extra finger for this." he smiled, flipping the taller boy off.

you facepalmed, trying not to laugh at your boyfriend's antics.

clearly, enlo didn't find it amusing, and shoved lo'ak harshly out of the way, beginning to walk off. "whatever, man. you can have the bitch."

"oh sorry, i forgot one thing about my hands! i can curl them up into this ball and-" lo'ak didn't even bother to finish his sentence before he landed a punch square to enlo's jaw, then another to his nose.

enlo, taken by surprise, didn't even have time to react while lo'ak took it to his advantage, still throwing punches at him and knocking him off his feet. and while you weren't fond of the words spoken of you, you didn't want lo'ak getting too carried away and getting into more trouble with his dad.

"lo'ak! that's enough." you called, and of course, he listened. he got off of the other male, sending a glare to him while he walked over to you.

enlo got up (barely), and held his nose, groaning in pain. "yeah, run back to y/n! can't even finish a fight." he pathetically spat at lo'ak, making him turn around to finish the fight until you stopped him.

"i got this one," you muttered, making your way back over to enlo. "clearly, he was trying to be nice, but since you're such a dickhead, i'll finish it for him." so you punched him right in the nose, making the boy stumble back in pain, both hands covering his bloody nose.

as you walked back over to lo'ak, he looked at you proudly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"that's my girl."

—

a/n — lo'ak's was longer than intended whoops

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

Yor's Hometown and Westalis

Yor mentioned that she's from a place in Ostania called Eastern Nielsberg.

Obviously, I thought it was on the Eastern part of Ostania as well. But then we get this statement from her from the recent update, Chapter 92.

She's from the South part of Ostania-A Southern folk.

And how did I dare forgot, the dish that she can make without messing up was even named Southern Stew.

Why is this important? Because Mr. Green said this specific information on Chapter 39 about Southern Folks from Ostania.

Southern Folks have a code for defecting to the West which might indicate that they're the ones who usually do this.

Then I remembered this Twiyor moment from Chapter 35

Yor knows a lullaby from Loid's childhood that was always sung to him by his mother. How could Yor know that same exact lullaby?

I don't think I remember Yor mentioning Westalis neither in speech or thought (correct me if I'm wrong pls). Though that doesn't mean that she wasn't aware of the existence of it. But I don't think she, herself, would try or have tried defecting to Westalis. And she's too young and too focused on taking care of her brother to even consider this.

But how about her family? Her parents? Their relatives? Why did Yuri and her are left alone when their parents died? What happened to their grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles? Where were they and why didn't they took them in? Did they perhaps defect to the West and Yor's family remained on Ostania? We can't be sure since we only know a little about Yor's backstory and her entire family background.

But even in Loid's backstory, when he was talking to the croquette lady, she mentioned that she was part Ostanian herself and she has a family in the East even though she's residing in West. Meaning, there could also be people from Ostania that has Westalian relatives. Yor's family could have Westalian background or someone in their family tree is and who knows, her family may have actually some sort of connection with Loid's family in Luwen.

I actually don't know where I was going with this or if this even make sense or plot relevant but I can't help but be intrigued by this.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 2

[forcemeanakin]

𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 ('𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗱) - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟯

•WARNINGS: SMUT. Age gap !!! Infidelity kink !!! (you’ve been warned, so if you do not agree pls leave because I’ll delete any hateful comments about this) Actual cheating. Dirty talk, teasing and sex in a public space, voyeurism, praising kink, bit of degrading, handjob (m and f receiving), oral sex (f receiving). Mentions of an unhappy relationship/divorce/troubled marriage.

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x female!reader.

Series Summary: Luke takes you home for Life’s Day. On the edge of giving up on you two, Skywalker manages to light up a fire inside of you again. Problem is… wrong Skywalker.

Part One - Part Two

Part Three Summary: How could Mr. Skywalker resist such a pretty little thing like yourself when you come into his workshop with dessert?

Word count: 4.1 K.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao. 

Thank you so much for the comments in my last post! Your excitement makes me want to write even more :) seriously thank you! And I'm sorry if I forgot to tag someone, pls let me know if I missed you!

“You missed dessert.”

It took Anakin a second to realize that he wasn’t delusional, that your voice wasn’t a product of his imagination.

You were here, in his workshop. 

With actual pie.

“Shouldn't you be upstairs, Y/n? It 's pretty late.” Anakin spoke without disconnecting his attention from the welding happening in his project.

You delayed your response, walking towards him and placing the plate on the counter, sliding it to him. Elbows on the surface, you supported your head on your knuckles, widening your eyes in innocence in case he indulged in looking up. 

“I could ask that as well.” You got closer, taking a spot at his left side to admire the precision in which he was attaching cables. “Life Day's morning is tomorrow, we should be up pretty early. We’re also going skating.”

Anakin scrunched his face like he had forgotten about it and he was not eagerly expecting the trip.

“You can’t not go, it’s our last day here.” You murmured with a velvety voice, sending goosebumps through his spine. 

“I’ve seen that fucking lake enough for a lifetime. I’m sure I won’t miss much.” He stuck his tongue out, inching his head forward to appreciate his manual work better.

“You’ll miss me.”

Anakin, having everything on the line, was too careful not to slip and fall. Because of that, your grand gestures and obvious advances were deflected by him every single time. Except that one time he did indulge. That one time where you weren’t even trying and he, by his own doing, fell into temptation. Only when commands a situation, or when he thinks he is, he lets himself free fall into his instincts.

“I’ll miss you.” You added, playing with the little metal panel that seemed the right size to fit the droid part he was fixing. 

“I don’t think you miss me when you have Luke’s tongue down your throat.”

He bit the words, gripping the tool with more force in between his fingers, clearly upset. You hid a playful smirk.

“That’s when I miss you the most.” You whispered, grazing his ear shell with your lips, caressing the pull-up sleeve from his shirt.

He tensed at the ministration, blinking fast to return to his previous state of concentration, “To all of this, where’s your boyfriend? Doesn’t he have a promise to fulfill?”

Honestly, it was your fault for trusting Luke’s empty words. Again. But you were enjoying Anakin’s visible jealousy.

“Luke wanted to go straight to sleep… said he was stuffed from dinner. Not a lot of energy to do anything.” You briefly whined with a voice so low, Anakin could barely hear you with the noise of the machine.

So he stopped, pushing himself back onto his chair so he could look up to you without obstacles. His chair was set just a few inches lower to work better. Anakin’s eyes followed your figure from head to toe, casually lingering on the bit of skin that showed from the slit of your attire. Just like at the dinner table, he was struggling and was unsure that he would be able to escape harmlessly this time.

“I’m kind of jealous to be honest.” You mumbled, staring at the mess of parts, walking until you were in between him and the counter. Trapped in between his spreading legs, your chest was right on his eye line and you hadn’t changed your dress. “I wish I was stuffed as well.”

Gulping harshly, Anakin built up the strength to stare at your intense gaze, basically condemning himself. Because the minute he saw the hungry spark shining from them, he knew there wasn’t a single bone in him that would deny you if you asked for him again. 

His strong, yet shy hand, climbed up your leg like a moth to a flame until he was able to grasp the fat of your thigh. Feeling your softness against his palm had him on the edge of staining his pants. With a little pull from his part, it took you mere seconds to obey his silent command and sit on his lap. Anakin’s curious hand continued to brush your bare leg, rejoicing in the way your breath would accelerate when his hand went up and how you bit your lip whenever it came down. 

It also didn’t help that his other arm was wrapped around your waist, thumb miming the motion of his hand, but on your hip, trapping you in his embrace. Expectant of what would be his next move, you shyly waited for whenever he would peel his eyes from your slit and reciprocate the attention, this time on your face. 

On your lips. 

Like he was reading your mind, Anakin’s eyes slowly moved up your curves until he met your needy orbs, noses softly grazing each other at the proximity. Breath getting out of control at the shift of energy, warmth expanding all over your skin and clit throbbing in anticipation. You deviated your eyes momentarily to sneak a peek of the deliciously rich piece of pie laying on the table and he benefited from the newly acquired angle to caress your throat with his lips.

“Just a taste?” You murmured, looking at him through your eyelashes, intentionally inching closer to brush his lips with yours.

Was he going to do it? Take the next step?

Would he dare?

Would you dare?

Surpringsily, Anakin nodded swiftly, leaning into the intoxicating pull of your mouth. “Just a taste.”

Anakin’s lips tasted so much better the second time around, it tasted like victory. And you made it a personal goal of yours to show him how grateful you were that he finally caved in. Wasting no time, in case he changed his mind, your hands found their home in Anakin’s curls, the silky feeling of them a new aphrodisiac to you and apparently to him, by the way he was growling at your clasp.

His sneaky tongue barely asked for permission when it was already intruding into your mouth, licking everything on its way. Giving up on trying to take the lead, you surrendered to his rough pace and enjoyed the delicious sensation of his warm, wet tongue against your lips. Anakin would take advantage of your dumb state and hanging mouth to suck however he pleased, smirking because the only thing your mind could process was imitate his dirty moves. Until he bit your bottom lip, making sure your brain wasn’t already melted before he could even start ruining you.  

When you pulled his hair, only because he had taken the party downstairs and was violently grabbing your ass, it was like you had awakened a beast. Out of nowhere, Anakin stood up, holding you by your thighs and placing you on the surface of his tool table. His shirt’s buttons were discarded early in the makeout session, granting you the space necessary to roam your palms all over his strong pecs and firm shoulder blades. And when you tried to wrap your legs around his waist, hinting right where you wanted him, he clasped his fists around your ankles, spreading you open without breaking the liplock. He was even more aggressive with the leverage his height gave him.

“Just a taste…” He grunted again, lifting up the skirt of your dress until it was tangled enough to give him a good view of your thong. He clicked his tongue at the sight of your spicy choice of underwear. “Almost like you had planned it all along.”

Shamelessly, so outrageously shameless, you drifted your legs further apart, making him snicker. 

“Well, did you?” He wandered, sliding your damped panties down your legs.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since yesterday.” You breathed out, shivering at the breeze fanning your burning core. “I’ve never wanted something so bad.” Urged eyes glued directly to Anakin’s groin. 

Anakin grinned a triumphant smile. That could’ve easily been a lie, but he doubted it. He recognized a brat when he saw one. Holding your foot like it was a delicate piece of glass, Anakin set the nibbling starting point right on your ankle and followed a beeline straight to your weeping cunt. His hot breath made you shiver in anticipation, whimpering to show off your desperation in case this would reach his sensible side.

“When was the last time you had an orgasm before me, baby? Without doing it yourself?” He breathed, roaming his hands up your legs, the contact so rough and intimate  at the same time.

You hated that question, it embarrassed you. 

“Mmm… Uhh-” You thought out loud, mind going blank as Anakin’s smooches went higher up. “F-four months?” You hissed.

“You’ve been dating Luke for three.” He did the math in his head. 

Oh.

Your face turning in shame had his eyes widening.

It would be a lie if Anakin said that he wasn’t mad at his son for dragging the Skywalker name in the mud. For keeping such a needy thing like yourself restricted from gratification. With how sexual you were, four months were an eternity. Nonetheless, Anakin was a fixer and you were his next project.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you? This slutty pussy can’t wait to have something inside of it. Anything.” Anakin mocked you, testing your sanity as he delayed contact with your core by redirecting his foreplay into the inner side of your thighs.

“That’s not true.” You fought with a trembling voice, observing how Anakin got closer and closer to delivering exactly what you wanted. “I only want you, d-”

The forbidden word. You almost spilled it.

“-sir.” You corrected in time, catching Anakin’s mocking glint. “Only you, please.”

Anakin’s face twisted in pleasure when his finger dived inside you, giving him a warm welcome, impossibly slick. You hugged his pumping digit tightly, getting even wetter at this fascinated expression. Anakin hadn’t felt such a lubricated canal in so long, his head almost exploded at the million possibilities with such an easy pussy: His cock would slide right in, be suffocated by your clenching walls just like his finger was... 

That had him dropping on his knees, starting to eat you out like he was starved. Just like you predicted. Nose deep, no hesitation to blow your slobbering cunt with abandon, moaning right on your core when he had the very first taste of your flavor. So sweet. Just like he predicted.

“Oh- oh!” You whimpered at the first clean lick he gave you, quivering like a virgin because it had been too long since someone showed you love there. 

Anakin’s tongue had the knowledge and patience none of the guys your age had. Every motion was so passionately delivered, so intentional. No rush, no fast lapping to get you off quickly. Anakin knew exactly what would have you shaking with pleasure and wasn’t scared to spend his time getting to know every hidden, sticky spot. In fact, it seemed like he enjoyed taking his sweet time with his face buried in your exposed core. 

It was the hottest shit you’d ever seen.

You were riled up by the precise technique with which he knew exactly how to pleasure your opening, sucking on your lips like they were the meal and not a measly pit stop. But what had you speechless, just at a loss of words, was the way he didn’t hesitate to dip his face into your heat with fervor. As he planted open mouth kisses to your slit, face fully covered by your juices, he only pulled back to spit on top of your clit and play with the liquid slob on top of your bundle of nerves. 

No grimaces, no disgust faces, just utter fascination by your reactions and your pussy.

“Such a sweet thing.” Anakin whispered, flattening his tongue and lapping over your mound. “Careful, I might not let you leave.”

Please don’t. You replied inside your head.

Anakin’s sounds of approval and delight made this whole experience even more sinful. Something about the idea of him enjoying cheating on his wife touched a nerve inside of you, something so wild and dangerous: You had another woman’s man in between your legs and he was enjoying being of service to you. You arched your back at the naughty thought, something Anakin didn’t appreciate because it moved you from the angle he had specifically situated you on; he had already discovered the spot that had your toes curling.

The power rush combined with Anakin's attention to your clit had a knot forming on your abdomen. Supporting yourself on your elbows, you looked down at Anakin’s work, not wanting to miss the scenario in front of you, in case you climaxed earlier than anticipated. But what you saw only pushed you closer to said ending. Anakin was playing with your clit like a cat with a toy, giving rapid licks that had your head spinning, while staggering eager sucks onto your nub. Anakin’s lips enveloped your clit with such care, only to roughly slurped on it, only backing down until he heard you whining. Or moaning his name. Whichever came first. 

“Anakin-” You bravely attempted to cry his name, unsure of his reaction. 

Anakin took the opportunity to analyze your flustered image, his gaze inevitably drawn to your falling cleavage, given that he was pulling down on the fabric by shouldering your legs. He could see the top of your boobs spilling from your undergarments and he dreamed of the looks of them. How perky they would be, how firm and squeezable they must be. Fantasizing about your young tits had him rolling his hips against the wooden leg of the table.

If Anakin locking your legs around his shoulders to dig deeper into your cunt wasn’t enough to have you convulsing, his tongue breaching into you and maneuvering it like it was actually fucking you, did.

“Anakin, I’m close- Oh,” You could barely hold yourself, deciding to lean limp against the hard surface, waiting for Anakin to sweep you off your feet with an outstanding orgasm. 

“That’s right, you’re gonna come on my tongue. How does that feel?” Anakin pushed, squeezing your ass and bringing your core over to him to devour. Like the certified slut you were, you rocked your hips against his face, relishing on the massage his nose inflicted on your most sensitive part. “Fucking your boyfriend’s dad face. This has to be a world record.”

Anakin stared at you over your mound, drinking the heavenly sight of your face contorting in ecstasy by his doing. Such a pretty, young thing, so slick and wet… coming undone by his tongue. And his tongue only. 

“Such a slut… my slut.” He degraded you with darkened eyes, amazed at how those words only had you trembling harder. “Only wanting to come on my tongue, by my cock. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, taking the little spaces he gave you in between words to fight off the pending peak; you didn’t want this to be over. You needed more from him, you needed everything. 

“Y-yes!” You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the familiar wave of satisfaction. 

“Yes, what?” Anakin teased.

Would you dare?

“Yes, daddy!” You screamed when your climax toppled you over. 

Anakin had the minimal kindness of not rubbing your choice of words on your face as you came over his fingers, dripping not only on his hand, but his table. This climax in particular had you weak; the aftershocks prolonged for more than you were used to and legs trembled as if you had just worked out. It could have been because you hadn’t had one in so long, or maybe because of his skillful tongue. Probably a combination of both. But truth be told, it was the best orgasm of your life. 

Even with dizzy eyes you could spot the bulge twitching inside his fitted pants. He had promised you just a little taste, but it was so unfair to leave him like that. Right?

Right?

Boosting yourself up, you directed your hand straight to his waistband, actively searching to fish his cock. 

“What are you doing?” Anakin questioned but did little to no effort to stop your wandering touch. 

You didn’t give an answer, instead lips pouted with a fixed stare, you let your actions speak for you. After unbuckling his belt, you loosened his pants, being faced with the opportunity of a lifetime. Anakin sucked his breath in when he saw your nails dipping under the elastic of his underwear, shaky exhales at the expectation of contact. You were unaware of it, you wouldn’t even believe it, but it had been a while for him too. Besides his own hand, he hadn’t known the touch of someone else in so long and Padmé didn’t even do the trick by now. 

So when Anakin saw your widened eyes as you scope up his erection from its confinements, he felt the same rush he used to savor with other conquests whenever Padmé and he were on a on-and-off break. But this was better, so much more electric. Your surprised gasp at his big cock elevated his ego to new highs. It just confirmed what he already knew: that you’ve dealing with stupid boys, when you deserved a real man. 

And Anakin was exactly that. 

His eagerness pushed you to envelope your hand around his shaft with more confidence, your fingers struggling to meet around it because of the delicious girth. Anakin let go as soon as he felt you tugging his length, crumbling on your shoulder, barely supporting himself on the edge of the table at each side of your hips. Being the big man he was, you didn’t expect Anakin to be so vocal during sex, but fuck were you wrong. Whimpers started to spill from his lips, landing right on your ear. It was the most exquisite sound you’ve heard. 

It was just so hot to have him completely surrender to you, to the will of your hand. Gladly, you pumped harder and faster, expecting to hear more of his inviting sounds. Having the upper hand encouraged you to try and lead the situation, turning his head by his chin with two fingers, sucking in his bottom lip as a first move before properly kissing him. Jacking him off while he still had his pants on, had you squeezing your thighs, the sight turning on a switch for you.

He followed your initiative and dipped his very own fingers to take care of you again. He would do it as many times as you needed, just for his own amusement. Closing his eyes, he sighed in content when his digits were fully installed inside of your warm walls. 

“That’s it, that’s the stuff.” He smiled into the words, making you cry even louder at the intrusion. He couldn’t stop praising you, he was too fascinated by you. “Always so wet for me. Fuck, yes. So wet and slick, ready to let me in. I adore this young pussy.”

You sobbed at the last words he pronounced, Anakin cracking a wicked grin. He was mesmerized by how unfiltered and vulgar your dark side turned out to be. Finally a worthy opponent.

Anakin and you worked on each other until you were both grazing the edge: sloppily kissing, moaning on each other's mouths and exchanging the same air by just how close you were. The scene replicated the rush and eagerness of a young couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other’s pants. It was so intimate, yet distant at the same time.

Because he wasn’t technically fucking you his conscience weighted a bit less. Using that logic, Anakin found comfort that, as long as you two kept your shenanigans at hand stuff, there was no reason why he should be called a cheater. It was two people exchanging favors.

It was him shaking you off his system.

“A-Anakin, you make me feel so good. Please.” You squealed when he circled around your clit with his thumb as his thick fingers worked in and out of you. 

“Next time you touch yourself, you’ll think of these fingers, you’ll think of me.” Anakin grunted, flicking your nub without care. He relished on the little scream you let out.

Anakin felt the exciting clench when he inserted his third finger in, your contorted face tattling you anyway. That was good news, because he was close too. It was hard for him not to when you were looking like sin itself with your dress discarded at waist level, cheeks flushed and mouth hung open, begging to be fucked by his tongue. 

Anakin wanted to grip you, rip you apart, crush you under the weight of his desire. He needed to have all of you in order to move on, so the next half of his life was spent dreaming about the feeling of you, as an alternative of a lifetime simply wandering. And as much as he wanted to extend this moment forever, your constant spasms were threat enough to let him know release was right around the corner.

Gushing on him again, you felt your body going limp. Smiling to the ceiling, you thought about how Anakin had ended your miserable drought with two winning orgasms. It was so intense, you were actually ashamed of how many unholy sounds you squealed but it didn’t make sense why a simple hand job would feel so good.

Flipping onto your stomach at the speed light, Anakin needily pulled up the bottom of the dress until your ass was bare and exposed for him to fondle as he pleased, panting frantically. You didn’t even felt ashamed when he split you open; you offered yourself to him even more and he fucking loved it.

He fucking loved how shameless you were, how excited for his attention you got. A breath of fresh air, that was you. 

But right when Anakin was about to give into his darkest desires, right about to cross the line between wrong and utterly wrong, gripping the edges of the table while trembling as his cock sat an inch away from your entrance…

Just one little push and he would taste heaven.

Just one little thrust and he would know glory in the purest form. 

The debate raged inside of him, a bead of sweat falling from his temple. He was only torn away from his mental debate when your impatient orbs peep from over your shoulder. 

“Please.” You whined, shaking your ass to entice him. “P-please do it, daddy. I’m begging, I really am.” 

Knees weak, Anakin was about to cave.

Just one swing of his hips. Just one tiny buck-

Another whine came out of you, but a disappointing one, this time provoked by Anakin jacking himself off until he was covering your heart-shaped cheeks with the viscous liquid you desperately wanted to swallow. Holding your jaw so you would make eye contact with him, Anakin put two cum-covered fingers in front of you, almost spurting a second time when your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the taste. His jizz was as good as dessert, for fuck’s sake.

But things come to an end.

“This can’t ever be known.” Anakin finally picked himself up from behind you, buttoning his pants as he shook his head, clearing his throat. It felt like he was talking to himself,  “This- uhm, this never happened. Never happened...”

“But it did. And I liked it.” Not fixing your dress so he would be greeted by your perky nipples, you turned to face him. “In fact, I loved it. I kinda want more.” You tilted your head, eyeing his groin without a filter. “Don’t you want more, daddy?” You had found a weak link and Anakin was making absolutely no effort to hide the effects of the word on him. 

Of course he wanted more. He wanted everything. Especially when you were staring at him with those eyes, and that hair, and those tits- God, those firm, perky tits were getting to him.

The phone he had installed for inner communication inside the house rang. It was Padmé calling him to sleep, the noise from his workshop disturbing her dreams. A nerve-wracking feeling took over you as soon as the phone call ended, you evidently awaiting for his next statement. 

He would either stay or leave. As simply as that. 

In or out?

When Anakin took one bite of the pie as he fixed his eyes on you, you smirked as a mirror of his own smile. 

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[sylusheart]

`sylus: a character study

finally here with the sylus post as promised <3 if you haven't already, do check out my caleb post. in this post i'll summarise the current theories/speculations regarding sylus, however with all the new confirmations and reveals a lot of the previous theories have been debunked so i'm only going to include whats still relevant as of now. and don't worry, even in the future if most of these theories are complete waffle i'll still leave this post up, as well as my caleb one and any other upcoming lnds theory posts. as always, if i miss anything or if you want to correct anything please fill free to mention it in the comments <3 also this includes spoilers for love and deepspace veresion 2 so if you haven't finished the new updates yet and don't want to get spoiled pls look away!!! but if you're thirsty for more sylus content buckle up and keep reading, let's start... ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

ᰔ the meaning of sylus' name

starting things off simple let's look into the meaning of his name. 'sylus' can mean "from/of the woods", or more specifically the name sylus/silas originally comes from the short form of 'silvanus' which means "protector" or "guardian" (of the forest). funnily enough, this has clearly been depicted throughout he main story so far as he's been watching over mc from the very beginning. it's also said that silvanus can appear as someone who is unfazed and daring with a rebellious soul and is willing to explore the darkest woodlands - which sort of links back to how sylus is so comfortable in the N109 zone despite it being a terrifying place to others and outsiders.

ᰔ the flower in his trailer represents mc

i've seen a few people point out that the untouched flower in his trailer represents mc. seeing as sylus is the ruthless leader of onychinus he's clearly meant to be seen as someone who is unforgiving and rather rash. but amongst all of the deadliness shown in his trailer, a lone flower sits unharmed as he walks past, suggesting a softer side to him. we can assume that him avoiding to trample over the flower was intentional because he steps over his wanted poster, this small detail in general shows how he holds a tender and respectful side that he reserves for mc. ultimately, it shows how sylus is a multifaceted character - he voluntarily avoids the flower, willingly choosing to be tender even when no one was there to witness so. not to mention, on the recent stream one of the kitties (blurple) said that sylus had rescued it when it found itself on top of one of the buildings (probably in the N109 zone) and he gently set it down to a safer place on the ground after telling it that "kitties don't belong here". to me, he comes off as a man that is unforgiving when need be, he's not going to start terrorising everyone because of how he tends to behave. he seems like someone who prefers not to cross over lines unless someone has crossed his first - that's to say, he won't act hostile or irrational unless he has been wronged first. but of course, many people who know of him can find that difficult to believe because all of the stories they hear about him don't tend to have a civil ending. it's sort of like he only shows his softer side in private, which makes sense if you think about it as he probably has an endless list of enemies and the last thing he needs is having someone/something close to him used against him for blackmail or whatnot.

ᰔ sylus' heartbeat, is he actually human? i remember that before sylus came out a lot of us seemed to think that raising his heartbeat would be worse than how it already is to try and raise zayne's, although if you've tried to do it you'll notice his heartbeat tends to be very fast almost all the time. his heartbeat in game is about 90-105 in the morning and then in the afternoon/evening time it ranges between 100-164. even though it varies, it's still a faster heartbeat than the norm. but why is it more faster later on in the day? i mean it could be because he has a preference for doing things at night which explains why his heartbeat seems to be more active during those later times of the day - but regardless, it's still overly fast.

a resting heartbeat usually ranges between 60-100bpm, unless of course excercise becomes a factor - but even then sylus doesn't go red or show any physical signs that can explain why his heartbeat is so high. so the only explanation as to how his heartbeat is so fast is because he simply isn't human. but to be fair, a crow's heartbeat is usually between 150 to 200 on average when awake and can rise up to 600 when resting, but then again just because his familiar/pet is a crow and he's associated with crows it doesn't exactly confirm that he himself is a crow-human... hybrid. so... then what is he? well, there's a part in the main chapter, a flashback of some sort, where mc is reliving a memory for a bit. she's seen to be holding a hand - a hand that doesn't look very human - and called it "sylus". the creature seems to look like a wanderer, and if it really is sylus but in wanderer form, i presume he''s stuck in the transition stages (if you're familiar with zayne's dawnbreaker lore, this'll make more sense) from human to wanderer as mc can still recognise him (?) as she's holding his hand (we assume) it might be that she's resonating with him? perhaps this halted the transition process or something... but it's not clear enough to indicate what exactly is happening, from what we can tell mc appears to be covered in blood and they both seem to be injured but other than that the whole ordeal looks quite bizarre.

within the main story chapter we also see the little girl describe sylus as a monster with horns and huge wings who can never die. from what we've seen of sylus' regeneration ability (his self-healing) during that part when mc shot him (actually, it was sylus who pushed down the trigger, using mc's finger but i'll go more indepth on that below), and he healed only moments later - further proving the little girls rumor that sylus is invincible. the other attributes in her description (horns, big wings and being a monster) seems like she's just describing a devillish like wanderer, which sort of sounds like how sylus would be if he were to be one...

if we go back to the experiments involving core fragments, the people who participated in the experiment said that one is to "implant a core in a person't heart" and the other is to "implant a consciousness in a high level wanderer body" and so from here we know that mc is the former and sylus could possibly be the latter, that is - if he truly was one of the test subjects.

also, in the destiny cafe he has an interaction that says he likes observing humans and also says that things without heart are more loyal.

going back to that main story scene where there's a memory/flashback of mc and the wanderer-like being, we see the creature hand over something to mc which looks like a sword with his claw-like hands. the bottom looked like it was inlaid with a red core a red ruby, so if this wanderer thingy isn't sylus himself perhaps it was sent by sylus (?) somehow… which could be why mc says his name. the wanderer asks mc to hold it tightly and at this point (if this wanderer really is sylus) he hasn't completely transitioned into a wanderer yet as he can still talk to mc.

so if the creature/wanderer really is sylus, from what we can gather - sylus was turned into a wanderer. if mc didn't kill him, then he might've completely turned into a wanderer, which is why he said "because if you don't, there's no going back", and so sylus in his wanderer form handed mc the weapon when he was still conscious so that mc could pierce his heart and prevent him from becoming a wanderer and losing consciousness. though it doesn't look like she chose to kill him and instead opted to resonate with sylus which ultimately made his self-healing ability increase/double in power. at the same time this pulled on the energy from mc's aether core and altered the heart in sylus body, reshaping it in such way that he can now regenerate/self-heal. it also paused his transition into become a wanderer. as pointed out, this only happened because of mc resonating with sylus - which is why the voice in mc's head tells her "it's your power", because without her sylus wouldn't of gained such abilities and be able to manipulate with his evol as much as he can now. maybe the real reason why he wants to resonate with her so badly is because he wants to give mc her power back so that she can be as strong and as powerful as she once was. i'm not saying he feels 'guilty' for mc choosing to use her abilities to save sylus' life but i feel like he feels as if its his time to pay his debt to her and give her back what was rightfully hers, even if that meant he'd die in the process (which most likely will happen if he were successful). the part in the main story where sylus is on a throne and he uses his evol to pull her onto his lap and then allows her to point a gun at him and shoot him, he notes her hesitation and clasps his own hand around hers - and if you look closely in that scene he pushes down the trigger himself (pressing down on her finger) so that the shot goes through his chest. maybe he thought her power would restore to her if he was killed by her hand. when she realises whats happened, she feels immense guilt and regret, believing she was the cause of this. mc says something like "you can't die yet" in a way as if she's known him forever and not for the few hours/days we are shown in the story so far. he makes a remark, and talks a little smug over mc feeling bad for what happened. at this point, he's probably realised that his evol was beginning to take effect because of the failure to resonate with mc - meaning he was going to regenerate and not die like he assumed he would.

going back to that wanderer memory/flashback, after mc resonates with the sylus-wanderer it must've reversed the wanderers body back to human. the use of her evol in all of this must've altered fate and went beyond the rules of the unprecendented and unparalleled, sylus has also said "someone has already overcome fate" and that people have done it/conquered fate before him (source: abyssal chaos) most likely referring to how mc changed his fate so that he wouldn't turn into a wanderer. he also says something about being told a blood-soaked disaster would be waiting for him, but he twisted fate by bringing a blood-soaked disaster to other people. it seems like to me, that there is a possibility for loopholes and changes of destiny in the deepspace but it's not something that can happen so easily.

sort of like how zayne was punished for defying astra, mc must've payed a price for going against the laws of fate to save sylus. i guess this means her paid price was the result of her death as she must've been overly exhausted from the loss of energy spent to save sylus.

sylus also said mc owed him a "farewell ceremony bigger than death" because the love-hate story between them has not come to an end yet, even if she died first. i haven't read his anecdotes yet but i've heard that he searched in all the galaxies across time and space to find the mc again, only to find her in linkon city (similar to xavier's situation with mc really).

ᰔ the significance of sylus giving mc wine someone pointed out that when sylus gave mc the wine it was somewhat similar to hades giving persephone the pomegranate seeds. if you're unfamiliar with hades and persephone's story to put it short, when persephone was going to leave hades gave her pomegranate seeds and she consumed them without much thought only to later realise that she was now unable to leave now that she had consumed food from the underworld, ultimately meaning she had to stay with hades forever. i really like this theory because it does really amplify sylus' possessiveness. not to mention one of his chat bubbles is literally a pomegranate... if that doesn't solidify this theory i don't know what else will.

ᰔ so was sylus also experimented on? a lot of the scenery associated with sylus seems to show much about cages/being restricted/tamed/tied up, it could possibly nod towards being experimented on (like how mc was) which is why sylus tells mc that they are the same and true kindred spirits. even if he didn't go through the exact same experiments mc was put through its possible he went through something similar. he does have aether core inside of him after all, just like mc, and i highly doubt he was just 'born' with it, it must've been planted there by something or someone or maybe it has something to do with one of his past lives (?).

ᰔ sylus and astra, what's the extent of sylus' evol? now onto some juicy stuff, i've seen some talk about sylus being astra personified and although sylus being astra might be a little far-fetched, i do think there's some sort of connection. in zayne's foreseer myth, there's a part that says “astra gifted one of his eyes to the foreseer. by walking the winding path of time did the foreseer understand its passing.” since zayne still sees his alternate lives when he’s dreaming, it’s safe to assume that he’s still connected to that foreseer eye, but what about the other eye? isn't it strange that it's only one of sylus' eyes that glow... when mc asks sylus if his eye is an aether core he doesn’t say yes, he responds with “something like that”. if the foreseer’s eye sees one’s fate then sylus’ eye sees one’s true desires - as evident through what we see in the main story. there's also a part in zayne's last myth that sort of links back to this: “it’s said the god wields the power of yin and yang, governing life and death.”

we know astra granted his eye to zayne, but what about sylus? was it a gift too or did he steal it? and again, it's possible he was a victim of one of the experiments that happened all those years ago.

now this brings attention to rafayel's heart. was that astra's too, the aether core? if mc has an aether core, and sylus and rafayel have one too… perhaps these are all just fragments of the real aether, and maybe there's 5 fragments in total meaning xavier and caleb may have one too... mc is also heavily affected by sylus' evol which is probably due to her playing a part in how strong it has become or because his evol in general can mess with anyone regardless if they're an ordinary evolver or not. it's pretty obvious at this point that his evol is most probably the strongest we've witnessed yet, not only does he has multiple abilities and an aether core, but some of mc's power too (if the wanderer = sylus theory is correct). it's also important to note that sylus' self-healing ability which essentially allows him to survive death is similar to how mc could come back to life after the many experiments she was put through that killed her each time, i guess this confirms that the only reason sylus obtained this ability in the first place was when mc chose to save him and resonate with him once upon a time. unlike mc, he remembers everything - or so it seems. to mc his words may seem cryptic, but he probably does know more than he lets on and he just chooses to be very vague with what he says (probably out of protection, it seems he wants answers - perhaps after he gets his answers he will be more open with mc and trying to get her to remember).

ᰔ sylus and caleb/ever group (?) in the main story, when speaking about ever group sylus seems to regard them in distaste. of course, as onychinus and ever are two different groups entirely, we can assume they're also on two sides and are potential enemies. sylus makes it seem as if he's quite familiar with them, probably having dealt with them on a few occasions, but with the way he speaks of them i presume they weren't very delightful occasions. there is a part where sylus says to mc, "the people closest to you might be the ones who want to kill you the most.” which could refer to josephine and how she quite literally participated in the experiments that repetitively killed mc. but i primarily think this line has everything to do with caleb. i get the sense that the only reason sylus can know caleb is through ever group and we all can tell caleb is associated with something bigger than the aerospace academy. so if caleb truly is part of ever group, then we know one potential reason as to why sylus dislikes them, or more specifically caleb. there's also an official artwork (see below) that has a white, red-eyed snake wrapped around caleb's arm. the snake could very much represent sylus in a way. the art itself can allude to when mc went into the no hunt zone. she takes on the role as a sinner by pretending to betray the hunters, and as caleb is speculated to be the guy in the shadows in chapter 8, there's a possibility that sylus might be forcing caleb to pretend to be dead/betray mc which is why he is maintaining a low profile. as sylus is the snake and has control over caleb like a puppet with strings, in the art we can also see that both caleb and mc are tempted to eat the forbidden fruit - however, mc is able to freely do so whereas with caleb’s side of the art it looks like he will get bitten by the snake if he even dares to, it's as if there are consequences if mc ever finds out that caleb is actually alive.

that's all i've gathered for now <3 i'll update as i find more and read more of his cards (as well as the new world underneath stories... i haven't read those yet) but it might take a while for me to update because i'm swamped with work :T but anywho, thank you for reading :3 pls let me know your thoughts! (⭒•͈ 𓎺 •͈ )