#i thought it was going to quick and easy but apparently he has a lot to say

[ofgentleresolve]

guess who...instead of doing drafts ended up continuing the monster of a fanfic for their ocs?

[percervall]

it's a bad idea (fuck it, it's fine) — part 2

Summary: your housemates give you an offer you can't refuse. What's the worst that could happen? Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: discussions around consent Word count: 827

Part 2 of the Fuck It series

Pushing the plate away from you, you lean back in the chair as you rest the coffee mug on the knee that’s pulled up to your chest. You’re lucky that Fernando is also more of a coffee person and quickly learnt just how you like yours once you moved in. Sometimes you still wonder how on God’s green earth you ended up being roommates with some of motorsports finest. 

Looking around the table, you can’t help but smile as they tease each other about something that happened during the last race. Jenson laughs at Fernando’s misfortune although he is quick to sympathise seeing as they’re in the same boat with regards to their cars being nowhere near Mercedes or even Sebastian’s Ferrari. For as long as you’ve known him, Jenson has always been easy going. His teasing and generally positive attitude is what led to the two of you becoming friends in the first place. And because of that friendship, you became a lot closer to Fernando as well when he rejoined McLaren. The two of them had an easy partnership, both on and off the track, and whenever you joined a race, Jenson made sure to include you in their conversations. Somehow being friends with both of them also meant you got to know Mark a lot better, and in turn Sebastian as well. The Aussie had retired from the sport well before you met Jenson, but he remained a constant in the paddock with his punditry job for Channel4. And from what you were told, the German driver had mellowed out since his RedBull days. The four of them seem to have such a deep understanding of each other, they work together seamlessly. Apparently even more so than you had expected.

And therein also lies the problem. Because while sharing seems to be somewhat normal for them, it makes you wonder where that leaves you in this arrangement. Would it always be like this morning, where they’re all involved in one way or another? How can you make sure it’s equal? Would they take turns? The thought alone has you swallowing thickly as your mind whirls with fantasies. 

“Are you okay, doll?” Jenson’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. Just-.. Just thinking,” you reply, taking another sip from your now luke-warm coffee. The men share a look that you decide to ignore as you down what’s left of your coffee.

“I don’t regret this morning,” you say, worried they will misinterpret your hesitancy.

“But?” Sebastian fills in for you.

“But it leaves me with. Questions,” you add, not making eye contact. 

“You can ask us anything, sweetheart,” Mark says gently and Jenson gives your knee a squeeze. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts you look out of the window.

“I guess the biggest question I have is how will this work? If we’re really gonna do this, if I’m gonna-.. Will it always be one on one or-.. Or will everyone be involved?” Something like desire swoops low in your stomach as you voice the latter part of the question and you can feel your cheeks heat up. 

“That is very much up to you, sweetheart,” Mark says, as the other three nod in agreement.

“We should have some sort of system, like to check if you’re okay with whatever will happen,” Sebastian offers, “do you have a safe word already?”

“A safe word? I-.. No, my ex wasn’t one for anything other than missionary and the occasional oral,” you confess, stomach in knots at the implications of maybe having to use a safe word. 

“I use traffic light system, very easy to follow and understand,” Fernando comments. Your imagination runs wild with all the possible scenarios in which Fernando would use this system.

“Hey, it’s just a way to make sure it’s fun and pleasurable for everyone,” Jenson says quietly, picking up on the way your head is going about a mile a minute. You nod, taking a deep breath. The longer you think about it, the more sense it makes. Having this in place will make sure, like Jenson said, that everyone is having a good time. You had just never considered that you are allowed to check in and see whether you’re okay with what’s about to happen. While it never felt like you didn’t have a choice in your previous relationship, consent was not something that was actively discussed; It was just always assumed. And in hindsight you maybe let him get away with blurring more boundaries than you had realised. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” you say, relaxing back into the chair. 

“Like Mark said, whatever we do, it’s up to you,” Sebastian reiterates. You nod in understanding once more, the knot in your stomach untangling slowly. You had trusted them enough to be roommates for the last year and a half without them overstepping a boundary or taking advantage of you. They care, you think, they’re not him. Fernando presses a kiss to your temple as he pours you another cup.

“It’ll be fun, nena,” he says with a wicked glint in his eyes, and the implications have you clenching your thighs together. Something tells you Fernando could very well be right. 

A smaller part to establish the relationship between the five of them a little bit more and to set things up for what's to come 👀

Feel free to let me know what you think (or any ideas you have for this series), your comments, tags, and likes means the world to me 💜

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[sweetlyskz]

Emerald Gem||Chapter Six

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight|Chapter nine|Chapter ten

Hybrid!OT7 x Fem!Reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE, some language, harsh themes

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Tags list is now CLOSED! Thank you guys for loving this pic <3 lots more to come soon!

Unedited

Your dinner was getting cold. For some reason, you couldn’t pick up the fork. Your hands were too busy gripping the table, bewildered by the sight in front of you.

“Are you going to come greet us or just sit there?” Yoon teased, showing that gummy smile you missed so much. The others were behind him, Jimin laid on Taehyung’s back. You could tell they had been through hell and back. Jin could barely stand on his own two feet, leaning on Hobi for support.

“I- what are you guys doing here?” You never thought you would see them again. Now that they’re here in front of you, you don’t know what to say. Even after all that time practicing what to say if they came back.

Im sorry. Please stay. I missed you.

Instead, you asked “Where’s Namjoon?”

The smile on Yoongi’s face quickly turned into a frown, telling you all you needed to know. Maybe you couldn’t do anything to convince him to stay, maybe Joon was just a lost cause- that’s what you tried to convince yourself anyway.

“I’m so sorry-.” You tried to apologize but Jungkook quickly shut it down with a quick embrace. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around your waist you were at ease. But once he pulled away, you yearned for more. It was just a second, but you still craved it nonetheless.

“Don’t apologize when you have nothing to be sorry for. He made his bed. Now he has to lay in it.”

“Speaking of beds”, Jimin interrupted, apparently lucid enough to speak clearly. “May I go to mine? I haven’t had a proper sleep in weeks…”The guys chuckle at Jimin lack of consciousness. It made you smile knowing they could laugh in dire situations. It comforted you, hearing Jimin call the bed his. It was his bed.

This is his home.

***

After eating dinner, everyone went there separate ways. They were probably looking forward to having a nice, cozy bed all to themselves. You laid in bed trying to rest, but your mind wouldn’t allow it. Yes, you were happy to have the six wanted hybrids back home, but every time you thought about Namjoon your stomach turned from worry. Apparently you weren’t the only one.

“Hey Y/n?” The Bunny hybrid stood in front of your bedroom door holding his favorite black and blue pillow.

“Hey Kook”, you leaned against the headboard, getting a better look at him. He looked frazzled, like there was something on his mind. You know that look all too well. “Can’t sleep?”

He nodded, making his way to the unoccupied side of the bed. He laid down next to you, getting as close to you as he could while holding his pillow to his chest.

“Worried about Namjoon”, he whispered into his pillow. “Never been anywhere without him. Im scared…”

You gently removed the pillow from his chest, replacing it with your warmth. Jungkook immediately relaxed in your embrace, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You felt like home- nice and warm. You were familiar to him, someone his could call his. Yes, he had the guys, but he grew up with them so it was different. The bond he built with you was new, and easy.

You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, rubbing his back soothingly. “I know”, you whispered. You of all people know what it’s like to lose someone. You know the feeling of curiosity, the feeling of wondering where your person may be.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him… I promise.”

You continued to rubbed Kook’s back, soothing him to sleep. There in the darkness, you both laid. It was quiet- serene.

“How did we get so lucky?” He murmured, eyelids fluttering on the brink of sleep. “What did we do to deserve you?”

He fell asleep before you could respond, before you could find the words to answer him. But his question kept you up all night, looking for the right words. How do you tell the person you just met that you’re falling? How do you explain to him that it’s you who was lucky enough to find seven incredibly selfless people.

“You deserve the world”, you whispered, finding comfort in his unconsciousness. “All of you do..”

“I love you. More than you know...”

***

You expected jungkook to be gone when you woke up, but there he was- still laid in your arms. He looked peaceful. Even with the cuts and bruises on his face, he was beautiful. And there it goes  again- butterflies in your stomach. It was a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. The feeling was warm and comfortable, but also scary.

But you couldn’t lay in bed all day, admiring all of Jungkook’s features. The farm needed tending to, and breakfast needed to be made. When you went to sit up, a pair of hands quickly pulled you back down.

“Don’t leave yet”, he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Kook”, you sighed, pretending to be irritated. “I’ve gotta go cook and feed the animals. You can come help if you want.”

He shook his head, pouting like a sad little kid. “Hobi already tended to the farm and Yoon made everyone breakfast. Now, lay down with me please.”

“Oh” was all you could say. You didn’t have any other excuse. The guys made sure of that. So you let him cuddle you, the way you did him. And for a while, you laid in his arms peacefully.

“You trust me tight?” Kook questioned.

“With my life”.

He scooted closer to you, putting his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel him breathing on you, making you nervous.

“Just trust me, okay?”

You nodded. “O-okay.”

Taking his sweet time, he placed gentle kisses from your neck to your ear. It had you squirming in anticipation, wondering where his lips would move to next.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now”, he breathed by your ear, running a hand up and down your waist. One hand made its way to your breast, messaging it through your night shirt. You gasp at the sudden feeling, giving him room to connect your lips with his. The kiss was soft and gentle, yet it still made you’re mind go blank. “Namjoon would loose his mind if he knew.”

You pushed away immediately after hearing his name. Namjoon, their pack leader. What would he think about the pack maknae comforting you in your bed? Your stomach turned just thinking about it.

“I should probably go check on the others, it’s a little too quiet”, you thought up an excuse, leaving a dumbfounded Jungkook in your bedroom.

***

As you walked down the creeky stairs, the aroma of pancakes and syrup surrounded you. When you entered the living room, four hybrids sitting on the couch devouring their plate.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Hoseok beamed. “Yoon thought we should wait for you to come down, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay”, you smiled. The smell of the morning breakfast was making your stomach growl. Jimin scooted to the edge of the couch, making some room for you to sit.

“Here, grab your plate and you can watch with us”, he offered. The Saturday cartoons were on, Tae’s favorite. Tom and Jerry always made him laugh, and don’t even get him started on road runner.

“Sorry, I can’t. Lots of farm work to do. But let’s play a game outside later!”

Jin, lying down on the other side of the couch, pointed a finger at Hoseok. “Hobi already did it! The silos are full and the chicken coops are clean! I fed the animals too!”

The stairs creaked once more. Jungkook, with his doe eyes and fluffy hair, entered the living room. “Good Morning”, he greeted in his raspy morning voice.

You could feel the butterflies again.

“You sure slept well, didn’t you?” Jimin smirked. “You might want to adjust your self, kook. It’s looking right at me.”

He glared at jimin. “What are you ta- Oh shit.”

If Jimin didn’t say anything, you would’ve never noticed, but now you can’t unsee it- the tent in the bunny hybrids pants. The others laughed at him while you blushed feverishly. 

“What were you dreaming about kookie?” Tae teased the youngest.

“More like who was he dreaming about?” Hobi joined in. You couldn’t even think straight. Instead of joining in the taunting banter, you decided to quietly grab a seat and try to wipe the red off your face.

But Jungkook wasn’t going to let you get away so easily.

“Blame Y/n! It’s her fault”, He exclaimed with his back turned adjusting himself. Suddenly all eyes shifted to your side of the couch, and you could no longer hide your embarrassment. And with the embarrassment was also shock.

“I- I didn’t! We never-“ You stuttered trying to find the right words. Was there any right way to explain how you made their pack mate hard? Probably not…

“You worry too much”, Kook huffed, slightly irritated. “You’re our family now. I’m as just as close to you as I am my pack. You practically are apart of us now!”

You tugged at the loose string on your shirt, eyes on the floor as if you had just been scolded. “But Namjoon-“

“Joon will come around eventually”, Jin interjected. “He knows where home is. He’ll make his way back to us soon.”

***

The room felt cold, ice cold. And even though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, he already knew where he was.

“No! Please, Not again!” Joon begged, body trembling.

The men in white lab coats laughed. “You’re lucky you still alive. We can keep it that way, too! Just tell me where the others are and no one has to get hurt.”

Namjoon laid on the cold white floors, gripping the metal bars caging him in. If the bars weren’t there, everyone in the room would’ve been dead, by his hand. Just hearing the sinister laugh of the people who hurt his pack made him want to tear them into shreds.

“Fuck you!” He spat. He banged and beat on the cell bars, but It was no use. He couldn’t break them. And now he’s in a situation he cannot escape.

And now he’s silently calling you for help.

Please, he begged. Save me!

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[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[figgrrr0]

Hii im new here! Found your blog by chance and I love how you write! Would you be able to write wanderer x jealous!reader on valentines day? Lets say Wanderer has got a lot of admirers from the akademiya and reader is just silently furious abt it but doesnt say anything. When Wanderer finds out he fucks them nicely and praise them/ reassures them <333

Apparently I struggle to do angry jealousy, I just make it sad... but it's light this time! And soft.

Also it feels so weird writing Wanderer as a name??

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Valentine's with Wanderer

Character: Top!Wanderer/Scaramouche

Reader: Bottom!Gn // Genre: Smut, angst

Cw: Classic Scara misunderstandings, praise/reassurance, fingering, soft sex, slight angst(?) it's more hinted I guess

Plot: A little // Word count: 1.9k

Valentine's Day: a day of love, gifts, and showing appreciation for your partner.

Usually, everyone tries to take the day off, freeing up their schedule so that they can focus entirely on the occasion, however it may be that they want to spend it. Which is why you were quite surprised to find yourself alone in bed when you woke up in the morning.

Now, that's not when you started feeling doubt. After all, maybe Wanderer, your boyfriend of the past few months, was in the kitchen. Breakfast in bed is a traditional start to Valentine's Day, and an easy way to get in anyone's good books. But, when you heard nothing after a few minutes of waiting, – no clanking of cutlery or slamming of cabinets – you just had to go see where he was.

Unluckily for you, all you could find was a little note, hastily sprawled and left waiting on the counter:

"I'll be gone for a while, don't wait up for me. I left you some breakfast in the cupboard, it might need heating up if you stay in bed too long, but that's not my fault...

–Happy Valentine's Day."

As usual, his handwriting is kind of hard to read; quick and messy. But, at least he did technically make you breakfast, even if he also alluded to you being lazy.

However, what most takes your attention, is the blotch of ink that splattered right at the end of "fault". It was as if he were hesitating to let go, to pick up the pen and leave it at that.

Which is why you felt oddly warm at the fact that the last part was perfectly legible and obviously had been written slower than the rest.

Even though you know Wanderer isn't particularly fond of outright expressing his feelings, you thought that surely, today of all days, he could push aside his own pride for you. Even just a little. Maybe that was too high of an expectation. His ambitions never let him take a break, so why would he take one for a made-up holiday?

Well... at least he's aware enough of your excitement for the day to acknowledge it first thing in the morning, even if he wasn't there to actually say it.

But, you knew that with Wanderer, everything would be awkward and touchy the first time around. You had to move slowly. Baby steps, you remind yourself, as you head back to your shared room to start getting ready.

It's only the start of the day.

...

You wish it weren't Valentine's Day.

Every street was lined with couples, each and every one of them holding hands, carrying flowers... things that you should be doing with your boyfriend right now.

And it didn't help that you felt like everyone was judging you for being alone, especially when most of them likely knew who you were dating. It's not like you hadn't seen them staring before now.

You couldn't blame them, really. Wanderer had shown up in Sumeru suddenly and didn't feel especially inclined to explain himself, so of course people would be curious. You just didn't like the way that their eyes would... linger after him. Even when you were there! And on the rare day that Wanderer was comfortable enough to let you hold onto him in public, the admiring stares turned to full-blown jealousy.

Now, what was wrong with that? Shouldn't that be an ego boost for you? You'd thought so too, at first. But then you realised that just meant they'd want to try and steal him from you.

You thought you could put up with it at first. After all, you knew that Wanderer wouldn't stand for anyone else touching him or getting in his way other than you. You trusted him just fine. You didn't trust the average Akademiya goer, though. They all seemed to think they were entitled to have whatever – or whoever – they wanted, just because they'd gotten into the prestigious school at all.

You'd tried to bring up your concerns to Wanderer about the whispers going around and the jealous looks you'd get when walking through the streets or halls of the Akademiya. Almost instantaneously, he shut down your complaints, finding the words so easily that it almost felt as though he hadn't even tried.

"Tch... they're annoying and only want to waste our time. Just ignore them like I do."

That response was actually exactly what you'd expected to hear, and while you were grateful for his straightforward answer, you'd wanted a more... passionate outcome. Something to show he cared.

That definitely isn't what you got, considering he didn't even look at you when he said it.

After that, you didn't want to bring up the same problem again. Especially not on Valentines Day, even though he'll probably come home having been confessed to over twenty times in the past hour alone. Okay, maybe you were over-exaggerating a little, but it really didn't feel like it to you. Plus, it's the day of love! You're allowed a little leeway for feeling paranoid, right?

Maybe this evening will be better, when Wanderer finally comes come.

...

As you walk through the door, you're instantly met with a faint smell that you recognised to be the lavender lemongrass scented candles that you kept around the house. Of course, this clued you in to the fact that Wanderer must already be home. But what solidified this, was that when you walked through the doorway, there he was, waiting for you standing next to a vase of beautifully arranged flowers. It was mainly made up of your favourite flower, along with some of the famous Valentine's flowers as well, such as roses, carnations, and even some daisies.

Most likely, it was thought up by the florist that he went to. But at least he knew your favourite flower, as well as followed the tradition of buying them for you at all.

Often times, it was unusual for him to initiate physical touch with you; even though he was comfortable with you, he still just wasn't used to it yet. Tonight, however, he seemed to have no trouble in walking right up to you, taking your hand to guide you into the living room, where you could both just relax in each other's company. The calming lavender lemongrass candles eased your mood quite well, and you were happy that your Wanderer had really tried for Valentine's day.

...

You had a lovely evening with your boyfriend, cuddling on the couch as you spoke in hushed voices about anything and everything (even if he was slightly apprehensive to start), the lovely atmosphere of romantic music quietly flooding through from the street.

And even though it had felt perfect, as you get ready to retire for the night, the candles having gone out a while ago, you can't help but feel the uncertainty from before start to overtake your thoughts again.

Resigning yourself to forget about it, you get into your side of the bed, your Wanderer already having been waiting for you to return. But he can tell that something in your mood has changed almost as soon as he lays his eyes on you again.

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing."

He leans forward, showing his engagement. "Bullshit. If you don't tell me, there's nothing I can do to help you get over it."

"I just... those people from the Akademiya... they're still bothering me." You look down at your hands.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second, "I've told you to just ignore them. There's nothing I can do to control how people think of you, or me, or us."

"I can't just ignore them!" You whine, "They're always looking at us when we're together... it's making me worried..."

At that, he looks over at you, his eyes scrunching as he thinks your words over. "Worried about what?"

Not sure how to say it, you move yourself to lay against him. Your back is pressed to his chest now, and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck helps to soothe your thoughts just enough for you to find the words:

"...I don't want them to take you from me..."

Now, it's Wanderer's turn to be silent. Now, he realises the mistake he'd made in telling you to just ignore those insignificant people; by ignoring the problem himself, he'd made you focus on it more. Of course you'd be feeling worried about this, he'd shut it down the first time you'd tried bringing it up.

You didn't need to just forget about it. You needed to work through it so that you could forget about it.

After almost a minute of tense silence, you're surprised when you feel his lips press gently to the back of your neck, accompanied moments later by his arm curling around you, pulling you ever closer against him. His hand rests over the place where your heart rests, while the other intertwines your fingers with his against your stomach, as if caging in the butterflies that start to flutter.

"Allow me to try again..." He presses a kiss to your ear before speaking again, "you don't need to think about them, or what I think about them." The hand on your heart shifts to cup your chest, your breath wavering when his hand brushes over your hardening nipples. "Because I'll never want anyone but you."

Then, the night is almost a blur.

Wanderer sneakily pulls a bottle of rose scented lube from under the pillow, liberally gathering some as he starts to stretch you out on his fingers. The scent slowly fills the room, intoxicating you on the heady fragrance, allowing it to pull you deeper into the moment.

He steadily pushes his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you, never slowing until after you've cum around his lubed up digits. Your hand finds purchase with the one on your chest, tightening your grip around him as you come down from the residual high.

He's whispering short encouragements to you while you collect your breath, the moans you'd been letting out dying on your tongue. Wanderer slowly lifts your leg, allowing him to guide his hard cock to finally, finally press against your hole, not making you wait to feel him as the slowly pushes in.

You don't need to adjust much, the lube and his attentive fingers having done the work well enough that only the comforting sensation of being full registers in your core. He starts thrusting when you signal that you're ready, his pace is easy and the power behind his hips is controlled enough to pull a soft moan from you with each stroke. It's different from what you're used to, but it's good. So good. And what makes it better is the hushed and stuttered, "I love you," and, "You're the only one that matters," that gets breathed into your shoulder as you both approach your shared climax.

The next morning, you wake up to find your Wanderer exactly where he ended last night; right next to you in your bed. You close your eyes contentedly, knowing you'll never have to worry about him being taken from you.

He's your Wanderer.

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

[myanmy]

Lack of Sleep

This one is made to leave you guys wanting more ;)

Summary: You can't sleep and consequently put yourself in danger.

Word count: 1531

Warnings: None

I have to thank everyone who read, liked and resposted my other one-shot. I was surprise by the amount of interactions and while it may not be a lot for other people, it is for me. Thank you so much.

Sleep has never been an easy task for you. Even before all this nightmare, the smallest of things managed to steal any chance of your brain shutting off for at least a few hours to give your body some rest. Now with the noises of those things hunting you and the fear of the smallest of noises, the chance of you getting actual sleep is the same chance you had winning the lottery and you never even bought those things, so to say that the chances were almost zero is an understatement. 

The group had taken in you a few months ago. You had always been more of a reserved person, so you hadn’t particularly made any friends. No one bothered you and you bothered no one. You were called in almost every run, somewhere in your life you had learned to be very quick and silent and that was useful. In almost every of those runs you had the same people accompanying you, mainly Daryl, Gleen, Michonne and the leader Rick. You had taken a liking to all of them, each having something to add to the group and together you had managed to go on some of the most successful runs.

Today was one of the days you didn't manage to catch a blink of sleep and were called to go on a run. You splashed some water on your face, hoping to get rid of the tired look, but unfortunately it didn’t do much. You walk out of the prison, seeing some of your colleagues near the truck you're going on today. Glenn muttered a ‘good morning’ while Michonne gave you a simple nod. You were somewhat grateful for them not doing small talk, the lack of sleep and the warm sun shining light on your face doing nothing to better your mood. Not long after Daryl and Rick walk out, heading towards the truck and with that all of you get inside. Luckily you’re sitting on the window side, giving you something to lean your head on which you gladly do. You remembered how in the old times the sound of the engine and the gentle rocking of a car would get you to sleep within seconds and for a while you let yourself go back to those moments, where the most serious thing you had to worry about were your grades or what you would have to do in the future. You open your eyes a few seconds later, reminding yourself that’s unfortunately long gone and immediately the first thing you see is a walker stumbling through the street trying to get to the truck only to be left behind. 

The run had gone surprisingly well, that is, for the others, for you it had been another story. You had separated to make the run faster, Daryl and Glenn had searched the front of the market where most things were and with least walkers while you, Michonne and Rick had searched the back where there were a few more walkers, but had valuable things. You had stumbled more than you would like to admit and nearly got bit a few times, with Rick's help you ended up only with a few scratches from the stumbles and not a single bite, you honestly had no idea how you had done it. Apparently all the nights not slept were catching up to you. Unbeknownst to you, Rick had noticed. On the drive back you weren’t able to handle the tiredness and fell asleep. Rick sat in the passenger seat and kept looking back at you, looking for any wounds or bites and just checking if you were still asleep. He thought about making an excuse to have to drive a little more, seeing that you had found solace in the car and he understood why, as his own son also got sleepy during rides, but he knew there wasn't any and could only hope you would be able to find sleep again back in the prison. 

As soon as the car stopped your eyes shot open, seeing you were back inside the prison gates. As everyone got out you saw people coming to welcome the group, Maggie practically jumping on Glenn, Carol walking to Daryl and starting a conversation while Carl jumped and hugged his dad. You and Michonne had no one in particular to say hi to, so you both walked side by side inside the prison, separating when going to your cells. You enjoyed Michonne’s company, you two practically never talked and that’s why you liked her, you were able to enjoy silence with someone and while that may seem weird to other people, it wasn’t for the two of you.

After the small nap in the truck you thought sleep would find you and for once it almost did, that was until you heard a small noise of something dropping and your eyes flew open. You knew it was most definitely someone walking and lost their hold on their cup or something like that, but your brain had already awakened and it wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. You laid in your bed, looking up at the ceiling, no thoughts running through your head. Eventually you grew tired of waiting for something that you knew wasn’t going to arrive, so slowly you stood up, trying to make no noise. It’s not because you weren’t able to sleep that you had to take someone else’s sleep. 

Just by walking outside into the fresh air made you feel a lot better, you looked up to the sky and were greeted by the moon standing proudly on the sky with stars surrounding it and you smiled. It was a tiny smile, but it was something.

“Pretty, righ’?” The thick southern voice speaks from behind you, startling you. “Sorry.” He says, stepping beside you.

“It’s fine.” You answer, feeling your heart slow down. Rick had this thing to him that made you feel safe, you couldn’t really explain it, but you felt it.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, his face turned to the sky.

“No, you?” You wonder, knowing Rick wasn’t on patrol tonight.

“Saw you leaving.” Your expression turns into a confusing one and he gets the hint and continues talking. “On the run today, you were acting weird. You got in danger way too many times, what’s going on?” 

You sigh, not really wanting to talk about it, but he was the leader, he had brought you in and given you food and a roof. “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping, that’s all.” 

He nods and hums in understatement. “You are safe here. Those things out there are scary, but if you’re going to fight them, you have to be strong to do it. You’re one of our best and you’re needed, so please, take care of yourself and rest.”

You let out a chuckle at that. “You have a better chance at knocking me out, that way you’ll be sure I'll get my share of sleep.” The man lets out a laugh, one that makes your stomach do funny things.

“What keeps you up?” He asks, trying to find some way to help you.

“The fear, the nightmare and mainly the noises. Every little snap gets my heart racing.” You confess, something that only Rick would manage to make you do. 

He sighs, looking at the sky again, seeming to be thinking. “The cell next to mine is empty.” He mutters, in a tone of a simple observation. You start thinking about it and come to the conclusion that it may help you. Rick is the leader, he is intelligent, quick and strong, that much you knew. It definitely wouldn’t hurt having someone like that next to you, the only divider being a thin wall. 

“Can I…” You hesitate, feeling silly, then his eyes leave the sky and meet yours. He had yet to figure you out, but he had come to learn a few things about you and one of them was that you did not like to appear small or fragile to people.

“Sure, it'll be easier for me to knock you out if you’re there.” He jokes and you can’t stop the laugh bubbling through you.

“Thank you Rick-” You mutter, your voice low. “-for everything.” You add, not looking him in the eyes.

“It’s no problem.” He says and puts his hand on your shoulder squeezing it, reassuring you. He follows you to your cell and helps you move the little things that belonged to you to the one next to his, your hands accidentally brushing against each other a few times and you try your hardest to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Good night…” He mutters your name with that thick accent of his, his voice low, trying not to disturb anyone.

“Good night Rick.” A small smile makes its way in Rick’s lips and you can’t help but return it. That night you fell asleep and had one of the best possible dreams ever, with Rick placing his hands not only on your shoulder but throughout your whole body and later cuddling you on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat.

[hottiehiei]

No Strings Attached with Hiei

When friends with benefits turns into something more…

nsfw (nothing too explicit), gender neutral

✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻

𓆩⟡𓆪 Don’t catch feelings. That was the only rule. Hiei made this clear from the very beginning, and you agreed without complaint. Neither of you had any intentions of pursuing a relationship, so it seemed easy enough. It was only harmless fun.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei warmed up to the idea after you caught his attention through subtle flirting, mostly using nonverbal cues like seductive stares. At first, he thought you were dense for trying to seduce a demon, but he was intrigued by your lack of fear. Besides, a human who didn’t mind being used was far too good to resist. He responded rather boldly. “If you want it so bad then say it.” “How long do you plan to drag this out. I know what you want.” (Hiei isn’t much of a flirt, sorry.)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Quick side note— even if there are no strings attached, there needs to be some level of trust before Hiei exposes himself intimately. Sure, he might have the occasional dirty thought, but he wouldn’t sleep with just anyone. Hiei may be a demon, but his morals differ from those of his kind. That said, sex wasn’t an everyday thing. His libido isn’t very high.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Only under certain circumstances will Hiei decide to snatch you away to satisfy his urges. Suppose he’s pulsing with pent-up energy after an intense fight. Dragging you to the bedroom would be the perfect way to blow off that extra steam.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Once this routine is established, you eagerly await his next battle, practically wishing for some idiot to come along and challenge him. The more riled up he gets, the better. Hiei can feel your eyes trailing him while he’s engaged in combat, and he enjoys every minute of it. Once the battle is over, he will send you a look that says, “You’re next.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 There’s no lovemaking or sensual foreplay. To keep your relationship a secret, everything has to be quick, which is no issue for Hiei. His mouth is rough and hot against your body, licking and biting at your skin for only a second— any longer and he’d risk leaving unnecessary hickeys. Don’t even bother trying to take control. He’s visibly on edge, relentless with his thrusts. But, if there's time to spare, Hiei will generously go down on you as a way to calm down.

𓆩⟡𓆪 All of this, yet he never kissed you. A small boundary that he would not cross. You never prohibited kissing, he simply chose not to, and you didn’t question it.

𓆩⟡𓆪 By the time you return to the group, your hair is noticeably disheveled, and your clothes are oddly loose and stretched out. Somehow, Hiei is the same as before, not a single hair out of place. He’s perfectly relaxed while you’re struggling to recover. It’s a miracle no one has caught on.

𓆩⟡𓆪 But in the midst of everything, the line between friend and lover started to blur. The two of you developed an emotional connection rather than a physical one. As mentioned, sex was never frequent to begin with. The strength of your relationship didn’t rely on what happened in private. Hiei liked you…a lot. Spending quality time together was more than enough to put him at ease. It didn’t matter how the time was spent, he just wanted to spend it with you.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei’s growing feelings became apparent during intimacy. He seeks your touch because he misses your warmth, not because he needs to relieve tension. Instead of his usual manhandling, he holds you closer, pressing his body onto yours with great gentleness. He wants to hear and feel you in different ways than before.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Less dirty talk, more sweet talk. He went from saying, “Beg for it.” to “Lay back, I’ll take care of you.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 The switch up is so obvious. Initially, he strictly prohibited kissing; now, he can’t keep his lips off you. There are full-blown kissing sessions that last way longer than they should.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Honestly, Hiei will eventually slip up and say something along the lines of “You’re mine.” or “You belong to me.” because the very thought of you sleeping with someone else is maddening.

✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukong still, very clearly, makes the fact he doesn't want Macaque near him or his son very apparent. I like to think it wasn't Macaque forcing a demon attack but rather the group just... ran into each other at the grocery. Like maybe Wukong offered to help out after MK's developing powers ruined Pigsy's stock or something??? But then they run into "Mr. Liu'er" who immediately sets alarm bells off in Wukong's head

Yeah, Wukong pretty much threatens Macaque to stay tf away from him or MK. He doesn't care that Macaque has suddenly returned after centuries of being missing/dead - Wukong only cares about keeping his cub safe.

I like the idea of Wukong and MK running into Macaque (in glamour as "Mr Liu'er") at the grocery store. MK's powers are super unstable, and he accidentally takes out a bunch of ingredients in Pigsy's kitchen (lots of broken eggs), and Wukong offers to grab replacements for the lost ingredients.

Then cue Wukong seeing a dark-haired man at the store wearing a familiar red scarf - staring at the products like he's never seen them before.

A quick flash of Gold-Vision confirms his suspicions.

MK: "Baba! You used Gold Vision! Is there another demon here?" Wukong: "Xiaotian, my beautiful little egg, please don't shout when you see me do that." Macaque, sly smile: "Oh my gods, Wukong? Good to you you bud. How have things been?" Wukong: (*annoyed groan*) "Hello Macaque." MK: "Baba makes that sound when he sees someone he doesn't want to talk to." Macaque, chuckling and kneeling down to shake MK's hand: "I know it well. The name is Liu'er Mihou, Macaque to my friends. Is this little scamp yours, Wukong?" Wukong, defensively: "Yes. He's mine." Macaque: "Is there another Mr Sun or...?" MK, a bit too enthused: "Nope! Baba isn't married! How do you know my baba, Mister?" Macaque: (*glances at Wukong*) Wukong: (*glares back with "You say anything you die"-energy*) Macaque, hesitates: "We're old... friends." MK: "Oh! Then... how come Baba doesn't talk about you?" Wukong, wanting to Leave: "OK! We're leaving! C'mon MK! We need to get these ingredients back to Mr Pigsy!" MK: "Oh ok! Bye bye Mister Liu'er!" Macaque, waves: "Take care MK. You too Wukong~" Wukong: (*annoyed growl!*)

Wukong later tells MK that the glamoured monkey demon was an old friend of his, but they fell apart over something bad Mr Liu'er did. MK is a little confused.

MK: "What did Mr Liu'er do to make you not like him anymore?" Wukong: "It's not that easy, kiddo. Mr Liu'er tried to steal the important scriptures from Master Tripitaka, and we had a really bad fight about it." MK: "But you and Uncle Bull were enemies for a long, long time, and you became brothers again!" Wukong, sighs: "It's not that easy, kiddo." MK: "...do you guys need a play date?" Wukong: (*blushing with surprise*) "What!?" MK: "That's what Mei says people do when they haven't seen each other in a long time. Her parents have a date every time they have to go away for a while. If you had a play date with Mister Liu'er, could you be friends again?" Wukong: (*in deep though, but admires his child's innocence*) Wukong: "I don't think Mr Liu'er would agree to a play date, MK. We hurt each other a lot in the past, and it takes a lot more effort to patch things up after that. Do you understand?" MK, disappointed: "Yeah..." Wukong: "Aww, it's ok bud - maybe in future we can be friends again, but not right now. C'mon! Let's get these groceries back to Mr Pigsy before he gets worried! I may have also bought us a treat or two for after dinner." MK: "Peach buns?" Wukong: "Peach buns!" MK: "Peach buns!!!" (*Wukong & MK start walking back to Pigsy's, arms swinging happily. The younger monkey deep in thought*) MK, thinking hard: "Must find way to make Baba and Mr Liu'er talk again..." Macaque, watching from the shadows: "Hmm. Thankfully, the kid seems more open to talking than Wukong is. Wonder how I can make sure we run into each other more often?"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hi, Vesu!! I don’t submit asks a lot because I know what a box full of them is like 😭, but if it is within your range, could you do the M6 with an MC who is prone to fainting? Not out of surprise or fear, but out of weakness and bad health? I’ve been having frequent fainting spells from new meds and it’s a really scary experience… like nausea and sounding like everything is far away. Also, feel free to make this a mini hc if that’s preferable! :0

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 with a fainting MC

~ @taduki hi friend! Sorry this took so long, I didn't want to make you wait any more so I turned this into a mini-hc. I hope this brings a little comfort <3 Here you go! - brainrot ~

Julian: Please, he's a doctor, not only does he know the exact chemical composition of the meds you're on, he's been studying the condition you're taking them for for months now. He's got this - no wait, you're collapsing again - HE DOESN'T GOT THIS! (At least, that's how he tells you it goes. Anybody else on scene watched him take excellent care of you like the competent doctor he is.)

Asra: Reeaallyy wishes you'd let them give you an additional potion that would make blacking out a little less scary and a little more ... ~fantastical~. Regardless, he has an uncanny sense for when you're about to faint and is always quick to pull you into a quiet, shady corner and find a spot where you can sit down while he supports you. They totally never paint whiskers on your face while you're out.

Nadia: Way more accommodating of you than she needs to be. You had to mention it to her when you accepted her commission to investigate the Count's death and she took that as an assignment. Now she always makes sure to stand with you as close to a couch as possible and tries to keep cool, fresh water available in every room. If she's taught all the guards assigned to you first aid - what of it?

Muriel: SO FLUSTERED the first time it happened, because he didn't see it coming and he hadn't even touched you yet but now he's holding you and inwardly panicking because you just fainted for no apparent reason and there's nobody else to take care of you and he doesn't know what to do - now he and Innana just position themselves as living fall cushions like it's second nature (he still worries).

Portia: The ultimate girl scout, she is borderline overprepared. Cold water and mint for nausea? In her bag. Protein rich snacks? In her pocket. Handkerchief for any cold sweats? Right here. She's even starting planning any shared schedules with extra flexibility/buffer times in case you need to take a moment and lie down. Just expect to share at least half of the snacks - that's her homemade trail mix!

Lucio: thought it made you easy pickings at first and falsely assumed it was because he was sooo intimidating in his ghostly goatman form. He was a little disappointed when you told him it was meds, but then he realized that you fainting -> physically catching and supporting you -> getting to act like a dashing romance protagonist -> CUDDLES! (he will panic if you don't wake up in under ten seconds)

[holographic-mars]

Do you think when Soundwave is stressed out Cosmos leads him outside to to teach him out to dance in space?

ABSOLUTELYYYY YOURE TOTALLY COMPLETELY ANF ENTIRELY CORRECT

Soundwave’s outlier ability makes him incredibly sensitive to noise. Even though he’s mastered his ability, it’s still easy to get overwhelmed and overstimulated with the noises and thoughts of everyone around him when he’s stressed.

It took a while for Cosmos to kinda realize what’s going on (Sky-Byte just says he does this sometimes and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw say it’s none of his business), but after a while he was able to find out that Soundwave’s shutdowns and long disappearances was because of stress and sensory overload (he managed to bribe Frenzy into telling him. Apparently it happens sometimes and usually Ravage could calm him down quick, but now she’s gone and Soundwave has to manage a whole space station by himself. The avians can calm him down, it just takes longer and leaves Soundwave a lot more tired).

So, After a particularly stressful day, Cosmos finds soundwave by himself trying to manage his stress (poorly), and Cosmos has an idea. He leads Soundwave to the airlock and asks him to trust him, and take them outside of the station.

It’s better out here, soundwave could still feel the noise from the station as they stand on the edge but he can feel himself calming down now that he’s away from the noise. Cosmos quietly hums to himself and squeezes Soundwave’s hand in a calming, rhythmic squeeze-and-release.

After a minute or so, Cosmos takes both of Soundwave’s hands and again asks him to trust him, before lightly launching them off of the station. In an instinctive spike of panic, Soundwave activates his trusters and clings tighter (closer) to cosmos but cosmos just laughs and leads them into a short spin before angling his own thrusters to a stop. Confused, but willing to trust Cosmos (and he is willing. He’ll trust cosmos with his spark if cosmos asked) soundwave cuts his own thrusters off. With just cosmos’ weight and the occasional quick jet of thrusters to steady themselves, they’re floating aimlessly.

No longer touching the station, everything is totally quiet. The noise is gone completely—only the gentle sound of the mechanisms in Cosmos’ frame and the bouncy loop of music in Cosmos’ processor remains.

Soundwave is not used to the total silence of space the way cosmos is (no fighting, no shooting, no chattering) so he’s nearly in awe of the peace of it all.

Cosmos laughs again. Soundwave can feel it reverberating through his frame from where they’re connected. The music Cosmos is repeating in his mind switches to a more subtle tune. He adjusts his grip on Soundwave’s arms and leads them into another light spin, moving and dipping with the music in his processor.

Soundwave follows along as best he can but ultimately lets Cosmos lead. Cosmos is happy to do so, Soundwave seems to have calmed down and his EM field is light with warm amusement and poorly hidden adoration.

They stay out there for as long as they can before the cassettes get sick of watching the gooey gross lovey dovey stuff and make them come back inside.

AIFJF THIS TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER IM SORRY IM SORRY 💔💔 I was so busy and tired I just. Didn’t get around to it until now thank you for your patience :33 also sorry this became an almost-fic bc I am sick and ill THANK YOU FOR THE ASKK HEEHEHE❤️❤️❤️🛸🛸🛸🎵🎵🎵

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!minho. hurt/comfort. angry/protective!minho. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. lotss of angst. reader has long hair/fear of the salon. minho is protective in this one. reader's appt at the salon has a huge mishap. pet names (affectionately). lots of adorableness from minho.

word count: 3.7k

summary: for as long as you can remember, you've always hated going to the salon - always hated others touching your delicate hair. and now, as an adult, you want to change that... want to face your fears. but you've never had good luck, which becomes clearly apparent after your appointment at the salon.

a/n: this one goes out to all my girlies who have issues with their hair. i, myself, have very long hair and am very particular about the way that i take care of it. i hate salons lmao so i thought i'd write a quick, angsty minho hurt/comfort fic surrounding my own experiences/feelings. hope ya'll enjoy~ 🥰

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

 “You’ll text me when you’re done, kitten?” Your boyfriend Minho asked you, as he leaned in and pressed a tentative kiss against your forehead. 

 “Yeah, of course, baby.” You peered up at him, offering him an easy smile. Trying to play off your anxiety. For your shared day off, the two of you had chosen to run some errands together. Minho needed to pick up some new fitness gear he had purchased from a store near your shared apartment. And you… well, you had an appointment to get your hair cut. 

 But honestly, you were fucking dreading it. Ever since you were a little girl, you had always held a lot of anxiety around the concept of going to the hair salon. Since, growing up, your mother had forced you to go to get your length trimmed once every three months, and you always threw a fit during such a time. You didn’t like anyone else touching your hair - especially a strange man or woman who applied weird, smelly products to your locks afterward. 

 Plus, you were very particular about the length of your hair. You didn’t like to have any sort of fringe - your mother had had you try it out when you were in high school, and the continual swipe of your wispy hair had always irritated the sensitive skin on your forehead. You also didn’t like having your hair super short, and instead opted to keep it at a length that reached just a little below your hips. 

 It was excessive, you knew, from how downright obsessed you were with your hair and who was allowed to touch it. Then, to your surprise, Lee Minho had come into your life, and your qualms about such things somewhat dissipated. At first, you cringed whenever he’d touch your hair - even if he merely ran a few fingers through it. But, over time, with enough space given to you by him, and because he was so understanding and loving about the whole thing, you slowly started to open up to him; you slowly started to allow him such a privilege. 

 And ever since, you two had never looked back. It seemed like every second he could get, your boyfriend had his hands buried in your hair - whether it was in a purely romantic or sensual way. He just loved your hair… the lusciousness of it, the length, the care that you took every day to keep it clean and healthy. Minho had told you on multiple occasions that he admired your attention to your long locks, how you washed them every few days in a particular way, and how you were always researching new and improved clean-beauty products to use on your hair. 

 So, it came as a total surprise to him when you suddenly proclaimed that you had booked an appointment at a nearby hair salon. For a moment, he was completely thrown for one… because, his baby, wanting to get her hair touched by some random stranger? After she hadn’t been to a salon since she was a freshman in university? Well, that was just so unlike you… 

 You didn’t want to tell him, because you knew what he’d say, but in all honesty, you had suddenly felt motivated to go to the salon because you had seen some of your favorite hair influencers on Instagram recently get their hair trimmed. They made it look so easy - sitting there for hours, letting the stylists run their hands through their luscious locks, getting perms done and quirky, bright colours poured onto their scalps. 

 But you had never been like them. And for once, you wanted to change that. You wanted to face your fears of the salon, walk in there with a proud face and head held high, and get something done - even if it was just a simple trimming of your ends. Which, you kind of desperately needed anyway. And, being the ever-supportive boyfriend that he was, Minho even decided to tag along with you on the day of your appointment since it conveniently aligned with the day off that he had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

 It was a rarity, that you got to spend all day with your boyfriend since his schedule was always so jam-packed with photoshoots, recordings, and practices. So, you savoured the Wednesday afternoon spent with him, basking in the late-winter sunshine and clutching onto him as you traipsed through the many streets of your local neighborhood. 

 And for a while, you almost forgot about your appointment altogether. 

 But then Minho reminded you of it, and when you checked your phone, you read that it was close to three in the afternoon. You had set the appointment for three-thirty. So, in a hustle of anxiety, you yanked Minho along the side streets with you, following the GPS on your phone for directions. 

 The two of you stopped just outside the shop, and you noticed the bustle of people inside. It was a good sign that it was so popular and busy, right?

 At your silence, you had felt a hand find yours, fingers squeezing between fingers gently. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, darling,” Minho had said in a soft tone, tugging on your hand a little bit so that he caught your gaze. His eyes were dancing with a myriad of emotions, the predominant one being concern. Because you didn’t have to say anything to tell him how you felt about it all. Minho might’ve been on the quieter side of things, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know you like the back of his hand- that he couldn’t read each of your innermost emotions without you ever having to voice them. “No one’s forcing you to get your hair done.” 

 “I know, babe…” Your voice had trailed off, as you squeezed his hand back and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “But, I need to do this. To prove to myself that it’s not that bad.” 

 He nodded, once. Then, he was tucking a few strands of your loose hair behind your ear, delicate pads of his fingers swiping across the warmth of your cheeks. “Alright, well, I’ll be waiting around until you’re done.” He gave your shoulder a tentative squeeze and flashed you a tiny smile before stepping away and letting you walk past. 

 You trailed up the front steps of the salon, turning back to your boyfriend just as you took hold of the front door’s handle. “Wish me luck.” You said in a breathless voice, heart beating wildly against your ribcage, anxiety constricting your throat just a little bit. 

 Minho gave you two thumbs up, a bright, reassuring grin spreading across his lips. “You’re gonna do great, kitten… love you.” 

 “Thanks, and… I love you too.” You swallowed down the restlessness that had been steadily building up inside of you, finally pushing through the salon’s front doors. 

 Almost immediately, you were overtaken by the strong scents of hairspray, lilac-rose shampoo, and powerful bleach. The noise was also elevated, as patrons and stylists alike chatted about life and talked about different hair techniques. 

 Yup, nothing had changed since your childhood. 

 “And… done. You can turn around now, Y/N.” Your stylist Rina said a few hours later. She was fairly nice, but you could tell that was new to the craft - probably fresh out of cosmetology school. She was quite flighty with her movements, doing quick, sharp cuts and washing your scalp pretty roughly. 

 The entire time she worked on you, you had your eyes screwed shut. Trying to ignore the crawling icy fingers that laced up your spine at the very feeling of this near-stranger working on your hair. But somehow - by some miraculous miracle - you had managed to make it through the entire appointment. 

 Slowly, you cracked your eyes open. 

 And your heart immediately dropped into the pit of your stomach. 

 Because the sight you found there left you too shocked and… and heartbroken to do anything else but just stare in utter disbelief. 

 The person staring back at you wasn’t you. 

 It fucking wasn’t. 

 Not with the short, above-shoulder-length hair, 

 Not with the thick fringe that spanned across your forehead, 

 Not with the layers cascading down the sides of your face. 

You had asked her for just a trim - you had asked her not to cut off a lot of your length, you had asked her for no fringe. But maybe, you hadn’t. In your anxiety, maybe you hadn’t said such things and decided to leave it up to her. 

 But no, no, no, this wasn’t right at all and- 

“What do you think of it?” Rina asked in an elated, high-pitched voice. She was beaming down at you, admiring her work through the mirror. 

 And at that moment, you didn’t have the heart to tell her what you felt. The people-pleaser came out from deep inside of you, and you shoved down the rising panic, swallowing the coming tears. “I-It’s great, but… I thought I asked for just a trim and no fringe?” 

 She waved a nonchalant hand in the air, “Yeah, but I thought you’d look so much better with this style,” she reached forward, combing a hand through your hair and pulling apart your thick layers. “See? The layers and fringe add so much more dimension to your hair… it looks amazing!”

 You barely managed to hold in your sobs, deciding on nodding slowly in agreement. “Thanks, I love it…” You said in a quiet voice, but Rina still heard you nonetheless and beamed with pride. 

 In no time at all, you were up from your seat and paying at the front desk. The woman there admired your new look and praised you for how good it looked. 

 You wanted to fucking vomit inside your mouth just then, but you held it all in. Just a little bit longer, just a little bit farther, and then you could let go and give in to your despair. Into the grief of losing such a big part of yourself - after all, you had been growing your hair out to such a long length since you were a newbie in university years before, and it was a key factor in your identity. 

 But just like that, it was gone. 

 In the blink of an eye, 

 With just a few snips of a pair of scissors and some quick hands, 

 Years of care and planning and admiring… gone.

Most of all, you were dreading the thought of meeting up with your boyfriend after the appointment. But, what were you to do? Ignore him for the rest of the day - hide from him? 

So, you did what you could only do at the moment, and texted him that you were ready to go. Not two minutes later, he replied with a ‘be there soon.’ 

 You sat down on a nearby bench just outside of the still-bustling salon, basking in the silence. The sky was slowly starting to darken with night, as it was nearing dinnertime. The absence of the weight of your long hair pulled at your heartstrings, and the oddity of your hair hanging in front of your forehead left you in an odd sort of limbo state between miserableness and pain. 

 “Kitten… is that you?” 

 The voice came out breathless, meant for only you to hear. And you turned to your right to see Minho stopped in his tracks just beside you, giving you the most peculiar look. It was a mask between surprise and… worry. 

 “Y-Yeah, hi…” You said meekly, as he came over to you and sat down on the other side of the bench. 

 Minho studied your new look in quiet for a few beats, inspecting and adjusting to it all. “Wow, baby… I’m- I’m so surprised by the style, I thought you wanted just a trim.” 

 You turned your face away from his then, not being able to handle the way his eyes softened in the wake of his surprise. “The… the stylist said I needed a change, that this suits me better.” 

 “But do you like it?” 

 And you grew silent from his question, telling your boyfriend all he needed to know about your answer. Your entire body froze up, your heart racing in the pit of your chest at such a big change to your entire persona and aesthetic. 

 “Baby-”

 The breakdown started then, 

 The tears freely flowing down your cheeks, 

 The emotion warming your cheeks into a rosy-red colour, 

 Chest pounding with your quick, rapid breaths. 

 Your entire body shook, as Minho pulled you against him then. He wrapped two arms around you, holding you close to him by the waist, squeezing you tight to ground you down again and bring you back to the present. Your boyfriend gently caressed a hand down the length of your short hair, whispering sweet words of love into your ear. 

 The two of you stayed like that for a long time, with him holding you, and you crying into his shoulder. But finally, when you had gained some semblance of control over yourself and the tears, you pulled away from his form slightly. 

 “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying… it’s not that big of a deal, it’s stupid.” You said, your voice a little shaky from all of the emotions jumbling around deep inside your stomach. 

 Minho tilted your chin up with a gentle finger, meeting your gaze, “First of all, you don’t have to apologize for anything, you did nothing wrong. Second, it is a big deal, darling - your hair is a huge part of your identity, and you having such a thing done to you isn’t stupid.” One of his hands found yous, and he squeezed the skin of your palm gently. “The stylist that did this to you is just downright cruel.” 

 And just like that, his entire demeanor shifted in front of your eyes. From one of comfort and heartbreak for you, to one of anger and appalment. His face darkened, jaw clenching tightly, pupils dilating in his rage. He was standing up from the bench in one fluid motion, so quick that you almost didn’t catch onto his coat sleeve. 

 You yanked at it, desperately trying to break through his daze of sudden wrath. “P-Please, Min, let’s just go home… don’t want you to make a big fuss out of it.” You said in a frantic tone, pulling and pulling at his hand. Minho rarely got mad, but when he did - people better watch out. Usually, he only got mad on the rare occasion that the two of you would fight. But sometimes, it was on your part- for something that someone had done to you, and he saw fit to ‘put them back in their place.’ 

Your boyfriend gave you a dark glare, but you knew that it wasn’t leveled at you. It was leveled at the person that had caused you to cry. He hated seeing you cry. It always took a year off of his life, always killed him inside to see his better half - the love of his life - in such distress. “Oh, I think this deserves a ‘big fuss.’” He said in a low voice before he was grasping for your hand and pulling you from the bench. 

 And before you knew it, you both were storming through the front doors of the salon, already turning heads with the loud slam of the door. 

 “Where’s the woman who worked on my girlfriend?” Minho shouted out across the shop, and immediately, everyone froze up from the look that was adamant on his face. Which was pure, unbitten fury. Minho was clutching onto you, an arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he held your shaking form close to his side. 

 Then, Rina appeared from somewhere near the back of the salon. She walked up to the two of you with hesitant footsteps. “Hello, how can I help you?” She asked, offering a tight smile that bordered on a grimace of pain. 

 “Were you the one who worked on my girlfriend?” 

 “Yes, I was-” 

 “Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done to her?!” He was full-on shouting this time around, his voice raising so loud that it seemed to vibrate across the room. You could hear a pin drop just then, as all eyes were focused on you and your boyfriend. “Her hair was her identity- she’s been growing it out for eight fucking years now! And then you have the audacity to ruin all of her hard work because you ‘thought she’d look good with a different style.’” 

 He was downright seething, the anger seeming to pool out of him in waves of dark crimson. You were still quavering beside him, holding onto his elbow shakily, your focus on Rina as she stared on at the two of you with a jaw slacked in shock. 

 Her bottom lip quivered with unbidden tears, as she was at a loss for words from such an outburst. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

 “Yeah, I’m sure you fucking didn’t,” Minho said in a deathly-low voice, the deepness of it cascading down the length of your spine and sending an icy chill racing through your veins. “She asked for a simple trim, not- this shit!” He wildly motioned to the new style of your hair, and all of your locks in their chopped glory. 

 “What can I do to make it up to you?” Rina was soon asking, but she directed the question towards you, guilt bringing her shoulders down low and brow furrowed with distress. “How can I fix this?” 

 “You can start by giving us a full refund.” Your boyfriend spoke up for you, and honestly, you were grateful for him at that moment. You were still so overwhelmed by all of the changes, and his explosion of rage sent a curveball of surprise your way. 

 Rina was bowing low then, mumbling another handful of apologies as she neared the front desk. Within no time at all, she had typed up something on the computer and had your info pulled up. “The appointment has been fully refunded. Once again, I am so incredibly sorry.” Rina said, coming away from the desk and giving the two of you another deep bow of apology. 

 “Thanks.” You managed to get out in a quiet voice, words fluttering with strain on your tongue. You turned to your boyfriend, pulling at his sleeve, “C’mon Min, let’s just go…”

 He fully turned to you, assessing all of the damage - noting the shaking in your shoulders and the pink on your cheeks, and the glossiness of your eyes. He nodded in surrender, before turning back to Rina. “And I’ll have you know that we’ll never give this establishment any form of business in the future.” 

 Minho held you close as you shuffled out of the salon’s front doors. You could feel the stares of stylists and customers alike burning literal holes into your back as you left. It was so anxiety-inducing, you almost broke down again right there on the steps leading outside. 

 When you guys had walked far enough down the street that the salon was out of view, Minho suddenly stopped the two of you. Your gazes locked, as his eyes roved over your form - testing, and judging your current state. 

 “You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to the delicate tone that he always used on you. It was sweet and gentle, and the way that he reached up to brush a few dried tears away from your warmed cheeks only made your heart leap even more in the pit of your chest. 

 “Y-Yeah, I think so, just… a little shaken up, that’s all,” you peered up at him, and this time, when you smiled, the little thing was genuine. “Thank you for doing that back there… I-I never would’ve had the balls to say what I felt in front of all those people, let alone in a salon.” 

 Minho wrung both arms around your waist, your hips meeting together in the middle of the street. Leaning in slowly, he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. “Of course, kitten… I’ll always be here to be your voice when you can’t find the strength to speak your thoughts.” You smiled against his lips and kissed him back with a tiny giggle bubbling out of you. “By the way, I like the new look- it’s a big change, but it suits you nonetheless.” 

 You pulled away from him a little bit, carding a few delicate fingers through your freshly-washed, silky hair, “Really? You truly like it?” You stared up at him with big, wide eyes, utterly surprised by his admission. 

 “Mmhm- but don’t get me wrong, I loved your old style too. But this… this is something new, and I like it just as much.” His arms around your torso squeezed a little tighter, as he nuzzled his nose into the thick of your hair and inhaled deeply, catching the scent of peach-and-lavender shampoo that the stylist had used on you. “And you smell amazing too- so lovely and beautiful.” 

 Laughing softly, you roped your arms around his neck, yanking his face close to yours and gently kissing him once more, “Thanks, and… I think the new style is growing on me too.” 

 A bright smile cracked across Minho’s lips at your confession, “Good- I’m glad… my baby girl deserves to feel comfortable and confident in her skin, no matter what hairstyle she has.” 

 There you guys stood, in that empty, dark side street, late one Wednesday evening, basking in each other’s presence. Holding onto each other for dear life, melting into one another’s grasps and kisses and precious touches. 

 Maybe you weren’t the best at voicing your opinion in times of distress, 

 And maybe you still hadn’t gotten over your fear of the salon, 

 But at the end of the day, none of those things mattered. 

 What mattered most was that you had Minho always by your side - your continual support, your continual voice of reason, your continual love, 

 Always there, whenever you need him the most. 

 Fin.

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© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[evaglass]

Four men, four countries

So I'm just posting and speculating for fun. This is a small theory, but I think it would be interesting if each of the four men were from each country in the British Isles.

So we already know that Fowler is from Ireland, but we don't know about Violet's, Skeffington's, and Routley's origins aside from the fact that they're most likely from the British Isles. Usually, you can tell where someone is from by their surnames, not always, but usually; however, I don't think that will help us in this case. The reason why I don't think the mens' surnames will give clues on where they're from is because I don't think they're using their real names.

The reason I think those names are aliases rather than their actual names is due to the timeframe and historical context. There is no way around the late 16th century to early 17th century would an Irish child be named Abijah Fowler; he would have most likely been named after his paternal grandfather if he was the oldest son, and it would be an Irish Gaelic name, along with his surname also being Irish Gaelic.

It also makes sense that the men are not using their birth names as they are participating in the black market.

However, I think I can at least make an educated guess on where each the men could be from.

Violet - I think he's English, I also think he was somewhat of the leader in that group. Violet was referred to as "old Violet," which could mean he's an old friend or he was possibly very elderly, maybe the eldest out of the four men.

It would make sense if he was the eldest, considering in the flashback he seemed very easy to kill. I also want to bring up that Fowler genuinely seemed upset about Violet's death and looked like he was genuinely going to kill Mizu for it. I believe each of the four men came from harsh upbringings, like Fowler, and I think Violet was likely the first to go into that sort of black market lifestyle and took the other three men under his wing. It's likely Violet took Fowler in after he lost his sister and thought him everything he knew.

It's a bit tricky to figure out Skeffington and Routley, especially if the surnames do turn out to just be aliases. So, let's look at the names from a more metaphorical lense instead.

Skeffington - so when I do a quick Google search of the name Skeffington, its meaning has roots in the words 'sheep' and 'farmstead', which you'll find a lot of both in Wales. A bit on the nose, to be honest.

Routley - looking into the meaning of the surname, Routley was a bit more difficult as apparently to some sources, the meaning is lost, but according to ancestry, the surnames can be associated with the term 'cliff', and Scotland makes 60% of cliffs in Britain. RIP Welsh Routley theory, you will be missed

Another thing is that I believe that Skeffington will be the most sadistic, as someone on another post pointed out that Skeffington can also be referred to as Skevington, which is also the name of a torture device know as Skevington's daughter. His last name having ties to the term sheep can also be used to foreshadow his personality as a wolf in steep clothing, someone who's a mindless sheep (a blind follower), or even a sheep in wolves clothing because deep down he's a coward.

As for Routley, I can assume he's probably the youngest out of the four. Also, let's be honest, many of us believe he's either Mizu's father, or if you believe in the European mother theory, then most would believe he's at least her uncle because of the 'pretty eyes' comment. It's very likely that Routley will be the most significant target to Mizu, and he'll play a big part in season 2. Which might mean Mizu be half of

In all seriousness, it could be possible that each for four are from one of each country in the British Isles as during that time frame it could be beneficial for the group for one person to know Welsh, another to know Irish Gaelic, and another to know Scottish Gaelic. I also want to point out that, apparently, the surname Violet comes from the term 'pathway', I guess Violet painted the pathway for the other three men to join him.

Take this with a huge grain of salt as this is just a theory for fun.

[murkystarlight]

I've always wondered how people made playlists for characters. Or an entire fandom. Or anything really(I'm horrible at it. Or maybe I just don't know enough songs)

But I did manage to think of songs the new order would sing at karaoke, or just singing skills. I don't actually have songs I think they would sing. But we do have what I wrote down for musical abilities! (This thing was in my drafts for months-)

Jesse

Good at singing. But not very good with rhythms(those darn quick time events don't help!! Arghah)

But like the few songs they've sung their entire lives?? Yeah. The rythm kind of got stuck in their brains. And can keep up to it.

Probably would sing something like... breakup songs, the most. But like, happy break up songs(like.. not happy. But you know.. the 'I broke up with you, but I dont care. You were crap anyways. I'm so out of your league' kind of breakup songs). Why? I thought it'd be funny. Okay? I don't know why-

Olivia

She's a good singer. But she doesn't really like singing in front of crowds. So like.. only with her close friends. But she has a really nice singing voice. Can't reach the really high notes, but manages most of them(even if they're not fully perfect)

I think she would sing more calmer songs.

I think she would know how to play the piano or violin (think she got a good musical ear)(I also thought of her having a dj board thing--)

Axel

He has a loud voice. He covers his weakness of singing with that loud voice. Can't hit a high note? Just scream! Scream the crap out of your throat. But his neck is fine. He screams often, and it takes more than just 'screaming to get a high note' to damage his throat. So he can hit the high notes... well, it does the job. He can get the high notes done. And speaking of high notes, he would sing Hatsune Miku a lot(I- don't know why😃)

If he was to play an instrument I'd say something like.. the drums?

Petra

She doesn't really sing. But she isn't horrible at it. Maybe with practice she'll be better? But when she does sing, she sticks to the easy ones. If there is a high note in the song, she'll just skip that part. Just- everything goes quiet all of a sudden. When the high note part ends, she starts singing again.

She sings anything as long as she knows the song(and likes it) and if it's not something too cheesy(either she doesn't like it, or she just has a big ego).

And for instruments(which.. I apparently also started writing down in this post), drums and guitar/base?

Lukas

I think. He would be able to hit high notes. Like.. really high ones. But the problem is, he can only do it in one song. Or the next day he won't be able to speak. He also has to take care of his throat before and after the song.

Think he would sing jazz for some reason. I have- no idea why. Or country. With a guitar maybe(I'm really just throwing things out there at this point). And maybe K-pop. Cause... I like that theory(also the reason why he can do high notes?)

Instruments; guitar. Maybe piano?

So, from here. I guess... dynamics?

After a while, Olivia, Axel and Lukas has to sit down and catch their breath(Olivia and Lukas mostly because they're tired, low energy. And Axel.. he can still go on. But he gets pulled down since he keeps trying to hit the high notes by screaming) So that leaves Petra having to deal with Jesse. Jesse wants to sing. While Petra... she's kind of tired of it by now.

Jesse likes singing duets(or more people) together. So everyone sings a duet with Jesse at least once if they go karaoke together.

Axel(most of the time) doesn't actually know the Japanese lyrics when he sings Miku. He just copies whatever he heard or sees on screen.

Lukas, actually knows the lyrics to the K-pop he sings. He reads books and stuff(yh. That's not a very good reason. Is it..). If he does like K-pop, he would've tried learning it. Other than that, I think he would know a lot of different languages. Even not fully. But know some words and phrases

Jesse and Axel would sing in the shower

Olivia once cheated during karaoke by messing around with the wiring. She got bored while waiting for her turn(the others only realized it after getting the perfect score three times in a row)

Annnnd I realized I didn't think of an instrument Jesse would know how to play. And I have thought of~ the flute. I was thinking of f!jesse. But imagine f!jesse and m!jesse being siblings and they both signed up to learn. F!jesse loves it amd m!jesse doesn't. But they've gone too far. He can't quit now

And that's all. Thank you 👐

[spacemonkeysalsa]

I read about an evil magistrate in another Faerûn city, a few decades after Astarion had that job in Baldur's Gate and it has me thinking about his pre-vampire days, and my irl time as a Las Vegas law clerk. A lot.

Full disclosure: I feel a little guilty that I wrote so much on this topic rather than on one of my fics.

I wrote very little in July 🫣but it's because I was drawing and reading instead.

I read 13 books, but they were the first 13 Legend of Drizzt books.

And while writing fic, I've avoid details about Astarion's background as a magistrate, for reasons I've talked about a lot before, but I might need to rethink that, because one book in the Drizzt series just gave me SO MUCH context for what the world was like around the time that Astarion would have had this job, and also, what that job was like, and how it was very effected by geography and race. And I have THOUGHTS. Thousands of words of thoughts, apparently, below the cut.

TL;DR - The popular idea that pre-Cazador Astarion is the biggest possible asshole so he "earns" his fate is boring as hell, not actually supported by canon, or the examples of magistrates that we see in FR (who don't even need to be corrupt to satisfy cruel inclinations) and I deeply prefer going in a totally different direction. Below the cut is me working through my headcanon, and why I came to these conclusions.

I tagged this appropriately I think, but to emphasize, topics of relevance include horror movie tropes, torture, the deeply flawed American justice system, and the even more deeply flawed one in Faerûn as described by the Forgotten Realms novels I've read and the mentions/demonstrations in Bladur's Gate 3.

If you feel you need to avoid thinking about all of that, you are valid, and probably more correct than me for doing so.

And as always, it's just my opinion, based on my experiences. All headcanon is equally headcanon.

To start, I'm going to briefly reiterate that:

Astarion's canon backstory is thin on purpose and that all we really know about him is that he was a magistrate with not-red eyes who made an unpopular ruling that was unpopular for an unspecified reason and got jumped by Gur for a (heavily implied to be unreliable narrator influenced) reason.

That artbook is a developmental tool that is actually less likely to ever be considered canon than even a later stage developmental tool like a full manuscript outline precisely because of its position in the process.

But, before I get into what I read in Drizzt, I want to establish that my head space started from thinking about how much sadder it is if Astarion actually did have compassionate ideals and a balanced sense of justice prior to Cazador. The reason I think it's sadder is best illustrated by the choice to either make a doomed horror movie character sympathetic or an asshole. What happens to Astarion is basically a horror show, and some people prefer those fates are reserved exclusively for asshole victims. There's reasons to write this way, and it can be done well, but it's very easy to make it feel cheap and contrived and it's usually a sign of an amateur production, and a quick way to make an accessible film rather than a good one. Another option (which can also be done well or done poorly) is to harm characters who did absolutely nothing wrong.

To be clear, whether or not we like a character doesn't affect whether or not they "deserve" death. Horror movies often deal with totally disproportionate consequences, and the gruesome fate not really being "earned" can be an inherent part of the horror regardless of our sympathy.

But, I'm not sad when the evil teenagers in Toxic Avenger are killed. I am not that sad when Jigsaw's traps prove to be too much for his chosen victims. What happens to Julia's marks in Hellraiser doesn't move me as much as what's going on with Kirsty, even if they didn't deserve it, because they aren't particularly sympathetic.

And the thing about using characters like that is that it's not realistic. And to be clear, I don't think you always have to be realistic to tell a good story, in fact, please don't always cling to realism. But realism in characterization is usually a stronger choice, and should be considered generally. Most people are not as flat and unsympathetic as the asshole victims in slasher flicks. Even people who do bad things are not so one dimensional as to instill no sympathy in irl humans. I think people like to flatten Astarion in their mind, so that they don't have to confront the fact that very bad things happen all the time, and that most people didn't do anything to earn a horrible fate.

In the specific case of what happened to Astarion, even if he was a bad person, it's very difficult to ever make 200 years of torture, the loss of autonomy, exploitation on every level, including physical, sexual and psychological abuse, ever feel proportional. So at this point, some people need something to make it seem more just. Either because they hate the character, and want to feel that hating the character is objectively correct, or their worldview includes an idea of justice that can't accept such disproportionality.

And if you need that for your headcanon, dope. you're allowed whatever headcanon you want.

The "corrupt magistrate" thing isn't canon. It's headcanon. I understand that some people who really seem to know what they are talking about said it was canon, that's because they are wrong. People are wrong sometimes.

I recently became aware that although I thought we were all playing the same game, a bunch of players have never seen what I've seen, because it's all missable content. And, because everyone knows there's a bunch of stuff they haven't seen, it's real easy to just believe any random person on the internet who tells you something is buried deep in the game that you don't know about.

This specific situation with Astarion's canon backstory is that you'll never find much in the game, no matter how much you play, because there's nothing to find. Here's the facts: -There was never anything about Astarion being corrupt in the game, in early access, or in any of the writing that made it to recording. It was an idea that was discussed very early on---like back when we almost had a werewolf companion, (RIP Helia, you would've loved what I put you through) and they went in a totally different direction. Essentially, just imagine what they ultimately ended up doing with Gortash, and know that they were thinking about doing something similar with Astarion, but a long, long time ago.

-In the game, he'll lie and tell you he's a magistrate in Baldur's Gate and that it's tedious.

-Or, if you wait to ask him about himself until after you know he's a vampire, he'll tell you he was a magistrate, punishing troublemakers.

-Backstory complete!

-Art books are great, and beautiful, and it's baffling to me to see fans treat them like canon content, because if anything, they demonstrate various attempts to put together a story that ultimately didn't land for the creators. I love using materials like this when I write, I create character sheets and artbooks for my work all the time, and part of their charm is the features that didn't make it into the final work. Minthara is no longer an elven cleric, Shadowheart isn't covered in tattoos, and Astarion isn't one of corrupt elite of Baldur's Gate, or even elite, or a courtesan. Stop bringing up the artbook, you're embarrassing yourselves.

-There's actual explicit dialogue in game in which Astarion says he doesn't remember much from before he was turned. He says the person he was is gone, nothing left but a name on a rock. That's what's intentionally in the game. I think this is brilliant, because I think his character represents loss in a really poignant way, and that if they included anything too detailed about who he was before he got turned, that would undermine this theme, in a way that's especially unnecessary. It's better to keep it purposefully blank. A void of nothing. I'm actually really surprised that they didn't do this for Shadowheart, given that she's a Sharran, but in her story, we actually see a really nice counterexample: she does recall small details about her time in the city. Coming back there triggers memories and if you find all three of them---[spoiler deleted, please message me if you want to know about this, I've been informed I shouldn't just shout this out, because some people like to discover this stuff on their own. But also I'm not a gatekeeper, if you really want to know, I'm happy to tell you]. There's none of that for Astarion, in fact, if you go to the cemetery looking for his grave, which is something I think a lot of us did, you won't find any mention of him anywhere, but you will find one of those Shadowheart memories if she's with you. You only get to see Astarion's grave briefly, if you're romancing him, and even then, he once again takes the opportunity to talk about the person he once was truly is lost to him (and to us) and gone forever, long before we ever had the chance to know him.

It's tragic, and kind of perfect.

And in the meta of all this, it's intentional that we'll never known him. We might think we do, but we literally can't, because it's not in the story.

Which is good because it would ruin the scene a bit if he'd been like "btw I was a real piece of shit lmao." Just like it kind of ruins the affect of the empty backstory to go ahead and add a backstory.

But. We're curious, we speculate, and we expand, that's what fanfiction is for—it exists outside of the canon. I usually write post-canon, canon-consistent content, but there's a possibility I'll need to add a few scenes from Astarion's mortal life in this one fic—maybe not, idk—but in preparation for maybe doing that (or not), I had considered working through what I think his life was life before he was turned, and the events leading up to Cazador capturing him. I wasn't sold on the idea, but I was thinking about it.

And, then I started reading Spine of The World, which features an actual magistrate from DR 1365. This one is um. Corrupt. Or, at least, we would consider him to be corrupt? He's actually doing his job perfectly according to the very messed up justice system in Luskan, where he works. They don't have a concept of burden of proof there, or of innocence at all after you manage to get yourself arrested, and instead essentially just torture people to death publicly and explicitly for entertainment. It's not chill. It's not subtle. They call it Prisoner's Carnival.

This magistrate has Astarion's exact job, in a different city and a few decades later (and those differences matter, we'll get to it) but the important features are the same. So, here's some things to note: being a magistrate is a position of limited power, you have total discretion over the prisoners given to you for punishment (minus a few notable exceptions that come up in Spine of The World), but that's it. It's not like an influential political position of respect or anything. It can't be, because they are beholden to laws they can't change, and cultural traditions that are non-negotiable parts of the community.

This guy is referred to multiple times are a carnival barker. And there's loads of magistrates, they all have different reputations and and ymmv on how sadistic they individually are in Luskan. In a later book, when this particular magistrate is brought up again to another magistrate in Luskan, it's clear that the carnival barker thing isn't entirely universal and that he's considered one of the really bad ones, but regardless, they all acknowledge that what he does is legal and "serves a purpose" and they all direct and orchestrate the torture and slaughter of prisoners, and they all admit that many of them are probably innocent. The magistrates, and more importantly, the people in charge of them, maintain the necessity of the system, and the fear it instils to keep troublemakers in line.

One of the more reasonable and intelligent wizards in the series (a guy called Robillard who I can't help but envision as Gale of Waterdeep, because almost everything he does and says makes him sound like Gale of Waterdeep) shocks Drizzt by defending this system of justice very passionately.

Actually, Drizzt's thoughts in general about the Prisoner's Carnival are S-tier Drizzt musings, I love a man who keeps a journal. Likes cats too. Drizzt is lovely.

Drizzt also notes that this is a popular system in human societies specifically. Other races don't go in for it so much, and tend not to participate unless it's as... um... you know... as the prisoners being tortured. I think it's interesting that he mentions that elves in particular (in his experience) are universally disgusted by it. It's also explicitly stated that Baldur's Gate is different, and a much preferrable place to get tried by a magistrate. That isn't in his journal entry though, that's earlier in the novel. A moment of foreshadowing.

The whole world is brutal, but Baldur's Gate is a bit more modern and open to change than other places. That's probably one reason it keeps getting featured and mentioned even though we've barely spent any time there in Drizzt's series so far. It's a bit more relatable a place to actually live in long term than somewhere like Luskan, where you may have to seek out real estate that's far enough away from the square that you're not constantly hearing the death screams of someone being drawn and quartered in front of a cheering crowd. So that's the basics of it, and getting back to Astarion and the backstory that I would personally novelize for him, we have options:

If I'm going to try to fit this into the context that I now have though, it's important to keep in mind that 1) Baldur's Gate is considered one of the "nicer" places to be tried and 2) culturally, elves don't go in for cruelty, especially not as systemic "justice." None of this has to apply to Astarion, but if I'm writing it, I'm not going to ignore this cultural context. At a minimum, I'm going to say that appointing an elf as a magistrate in a city that's known for being more progressively compassionate about their treatment of prisoners was probably pointed on the part of tptb. Baldur's Gate wanted him to set an example for these bloodthirsty humans about mercy and justice and the balance between them. Racism dictates that you don't go to a human for that. They're carnival barkers. If you want a more compassionate magistrate, appoint an elf. And from there, we get to decide whether or not Astarion met their expectations, or if he defied them. Because maybe he was an asshole. Maybe he was just as bad as his human magistrate counterparts. That's not outside the realm of possibility at all, there's an argument to be made that we write him as a counterweight to the stereotype. Astarion is written to be capable of anything, so you can literally go in any direction with his disposition.

But, considering how Cazador rages that he "made" Astarion, and Astarion doesn't even argue with that sentiment. I think it's more likely (and loads sadder) if this unmaking and making included a complete and total overhaul of Astarion entire sense of justice. I actually think the harsh sentiments that Astarion expresses at the tribunal in Ansur's trials are a really good example of the flickers of Cazador and the person he twisted Astarion into, than they would ever be indicative of who he was before getting turned.

That guy's gone, remember?

And if it's not obvious, I'm going in that direction with my fanfic. I'm going to say he actually thought he could help his community. He studied. He got this civil servant position. It was a bit disillusioning. It's better in Baldur's Gate than in other places, but the system itself is cruel, and he's rewarded for being cruel within it. It doesn't even matter that he originally got the job because they hoped he would be a compassionate elf judge amongst bloodthirsty humans, once he's actually in position, it's all about maintaining the status quo. That's what they actually want from him, in spite of their "progressive" leanings.

If anything, he's getting in trouble, and getting noticed by not quite being status quo. A soft-hearted elf, letting his charges get away with all kinds of mischief. I'd write him this way, because I think it then easily follows that Cazador takes note of him and targets him, precisely because he's too merciful. It's annoying.

And, little bit about me, I'm an attorney, and early on, during and right after law school I worked for a few judges.

If Faerûn is anything like the USA I figure that after a few years he has figured out that being a magistrate only gives him a limited amount of discretion and authority over the specific individuals who are brought before him.

It's really legislation that makes a difference and he is specifically forbidden from that. He rules from the bench, and hopes that if he's consistent and fair, and if nothing disastrous results from his rulings, (and if he doesn't get reversed too often, idk if that's a thing in Faerûn but it's a thing in America) then maybe he could eventually influence those who do legislate, but like, that's not his job. And it's going to take a long time because most of it's quite tedious and people don't pay attention unless it's someone they care about standing before him. Nobody cares about the vast majority of these people. His job is to stare at "troublemakers" who have supposedly broken the law, hear witnesses and confessions and denials and lies and decide what the truth is, and decide what's fair.

And it's emotionally heavy work. A lot of people describe being a magistrate as a political position, and that's not incorrect, but there's a valley of difference between Astarion's very hands on job, and what Gortash/Duke Ravenguard do. You are beholden to powerful politicians (like actual politicians) with a lot more influence who figured all this out long before they made the mistake of having ideals or believing in anything, or taking a job in which they would have to a) actually work with people to probable burnout and b) inevitably make a lot of people very angry regardless of what they did.

But, Astarion is still young, he's still got energy, he's not lost himself yet, he thinks he can handle this responsibility and he's wrong.

One day, someone is brought before him. This person is Gur and has supposedly broken the law. Other Gur are upset about the way Astarion ruled. He was way too harsh, or maybe he wasn't.

Quick sidebar: in court, I have watched people literally receive the death sentence and have zero reaction. Same with life w/o parole and other life ruining sentences. In my experience, what triggers an emotional reaction and anger targeted at a judge isn't the severity of the sentence, it's how the severity of the sentence stacks up against their expectations. The defendants (or their families, with proxy outrage) who get really angry, who try to attack the judge, or the ones who are so disruptive that we have to call it and go wait in the hallway while the baliffs calm things down, all have one thing in common: they legitimately thought they were going to just be sent home. They didn't think they were going to be held at all. For that reason, I actually saw a lot more rage from people who had committed minor offenses, because they didn't think what they had done was that big a deal, showed no remorse, ignored their atty, made no effort to express any respect for the law, or any victims, and then when the judge just decides to go with whatever the statute says, in light if zero mitigating factors, the defendant hears "60 days" for the very first time and assumes that the judge just made that up and hates them.

And like, I know it's fiction, and I'm speaking on a very niche experience that most people can't relate to. It's unlikely the writers had anything (let alone realism) in mind at all when they decided to be as vague as possible in the details about a character who embodies "loss" as a concept. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss.

But this sidebar is just to explain why whenever someone says "well he got beat to death for it so his ruling must've been racist and harsh" my knee jerk response is "not necessarily."

And sidebar within the sidebar: if I was going to fully novelize the story, I would actually go in the direction of having the ruling in question be uncommonly fair. I might hint at some racism though—nobody really talks about it below the surface level obvious stuff that's in the game, and part of that is because information about the Gur as a people isn't super accessible. But there is information, and synthesized: racism against the Gur seems pretty standard, especially for an elf who has had it up to here with human bullshit generally. Especially during that time period. He probably didn't have a good opinion of the Gur in life.

But, I have to assume that his animosity towards the Gur that we see in the game was at least affected by the fact that they beat him to death, and then, he spent two centuries as an undead being that they kill on sight with absolutely no justification needed. Like. I don't think it's wild to suggest that. I'm actually very confused by how much people push back on the idea that this could be responsible for his attitude, in part. And that's as far as I have combed through all this so far. Idk how much of it will end up in fic, but it's my personal headcanon now.

I love horror movies. I have watched so many of them it's embarrassing. My letterboxd is embarrassing. I do love several horror movies that feature asshole victims, but as I look at my very favorites, I'm noticing a pattern. I like to feel hurt. I like it when a movie doesn't shy away from dealing out universal, apathetic and disproportionate punishment to everyone. I can't think of anything quite so sad as seeing a perfectly normal, maybe even morally progressive person with their whole life ahead of them, and choosing to unmake them and twist them into a broken puppet in your own image. Sparing/saving no one and nothing in the process. Just make them lose everything, including their entire sense of who they are.

So, I'm going to hurt my own feelings with my Astarion headcanon.

[zaceouiswriting]

The Master of Fulfillment

Character: Jason Todd (Wayne) x male reader, Dick Grayson (Wayne) x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Smut, degrading, slurs, cuckolding, Master/Slave, choking

Read it with the thought that Dick and Jason aren't adopted brothers but blood brothers, which makes it all the more intense.

It was an odd sight. Jason and I come to this cafe almost every day as his work takes up most of his time, and it's right across the street from his workplace. My work is easy and gives me a lot of time. It mostly means that I'm constantly alone without my loving boyfriend. At this point, I can't even recall seeing him naked for more than five minutes or him bending me over for more than a moment.

The saddest part? I wasn't even mad about it. Because a quicky with him is really... quick. Not only is it dissatisfying, but it also makes me feel a kind of angry resentment. Since the first few months of our relationship, he hasn't taken the time to make me cum just by fucking me like he used to. He promised it would be a short thing, but three years have passed, and nothing has changed.

We've been drifting apart for a while because he just doesn't seem to care anymore. Sometimes I think he's aware of it, but then again, he doesn't change it. That's probably what annoys me the most. For a few months now, I don't even give him a quickie without rolling my eyes in annoyance. He stopped asking about it, which obviously made him unhappy as well. Yet, still no change.

I lost my sex drive a long time ago. Or I thought so. Because the strange sight, which is completely different from any other visit we have made here, makes me feel things I haven't experienced in a long time. A tight-fitting shirt, bulging arms big enough to crush my head if they want to. An obviously well-trained chest and an eight-pack under the cloth. But the most important thing besides his perfectly square face and impeccable haircut? His damn tight pants. With a nice firm butt. But the most cloth hugs, his massive bulge. It looks at least twice as big as Jason's. I could immediately feel jealousy rising in me for the person lucky enough to be the partner of this god.

I can feel my own pants tightening. I had to take my eyes off this man made of pure sex.

Logically it shouldn't be a strange sight to see a cop, not even a handsome one, at a coffee shop, but he was strangely alone. Usually, they are never alone buying coffee or something to eat for all their colleagues.

I've tried to ignore his existence, but every now and then, my eyes would wander to him, his well-built body, and whenever he shifted his stance, I would stare straight at his massive bulge. He's been there a lot longer than he should have been. But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Just as I was thinking about it and staring at the back of his head, he suddenly turned around with a scowl plastered over his face, but as soon as our eyes met, his face strangely relaxed. But soon, his eyes wandered up and down my seated body. I could only feel like a piece of meat under his gaze. A grin appeared out of nowhere on his devilishly handsome face, showing off his perfect pearly white teeth and, in particular, two sharp upper teeth.

A bright red blush appeared on my face, so apparent that even Jason couldn't miss it. "Are you all right, babe? Are you sick?” he asked worriedly. He even went so far as to stand up, leaning slightly toward me, and to put his rough, warm hand on my forehead to take my temperature.

His loving touch made me sick. "Maybe you should go and splash some cold water in your face? It might help,” he told me softly but firmly. There's something strange in his eyes, but I can't quite put my finger on what. Somehow I feel compelled to do as he told me. But before I could leave - shortly after I got up - he pulled me in a quick, smooth movement, very close to him. He definitely could feel my hard cock on him. But he ignored it. Instead, he kissed me deeply. He even went so far as to stick his tongue in. His love is on full display.

For a second, he felt like old Jason, the high school football captain I fell in love with, so rough and domineering. But as soon as we parted, he shyly looked away. My stomach turns with disgust.

Without saying another word, I walk away from him without looking at him again. But the cop - I daydreamed so much - got a look from me. Why? I have no idea. Surprisingly, he already looks at me with hunger in his dark blue eyes and lets them run over my body again before I finally disappear into the bathroom.

I lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Why does this man make my heart beat so fast? Why was my body sweating so much? And why can't I answer any of these questions?

For a moment, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I forgot this was an open toilet. Quickly, before someone tries to open it and maybe knocks me over, I move away from the door.

I'll go over to the sink, open the water, and splash it in my face as Jason told me to. But why am I doing what he told me? Maybe it was the tone of his voice… so demanding it felt like old Jason.

I shook my head, knowing better. He's gone soft. Too soft.

I remember Jason standing over me in the locker room after one of his team members fucked me for the first time. Jason was so jealous. He was so deliciously rough. He treated me brutally. He didn't care if I got bruises from his treatment. Once, he even gave me a black eye. I vividly remember cumming hard that night: no one else could make me cum like this.

A strange feeling on my face snapped me out of my head the second time. Glancing slightly up in the mirror, I discover a single frustrated tear. But at that moment, I realized something: I still love this soft idiot.

I need to talk to him to find out what's changed! Just as I turned around, the door to the restrooms suddenly opened, startling me a little. For a second, I think it might be Jason to fulfill a long-forgotten sexual fantasy of his. But when I could see the blue of a police officer's uniform, a certain sadness came over me. However, this feeling only lasted a second before a strange excitement came over me.

Confused as to what to do, I rush to the urinals. I quickly pull my pants open and get my cock out. Nervously I tried to pee, but nothing came out. Even though I could feel my bladder filling up out of nowhere, I couldn't let a drop out.

The intimidating footsteps of the cop only make it worse. I hope he would walk down as far as possible. Best at the other end of the room. I decided to keep my eyes closed and pray; until I could no longer hear his footsteps. Despite all this, he came to stand right next to me.

Suddenly my heart started beating faster again. Frightened, I open my eyes only to glance sideways and see the intimidating statue of this muscular mountain of a man. But his eyes were forward and closed just like mine a second ago.

He deftly undid his fly without looking and fished something out, seeming to have some difficulty with it, commenting with annoyed little noises. The depth of his voice shocked me to my core. I look up for just a moment at his sharp, masculine features. But even from the bottom corner of my eye, I could see beige skin sticking out of the front of his pants.

And when my eyes noticed whatever it was, my mouth went dry. "Fuck!" I exclaimed loudly. Involuntarily I would like to add! It was just a reaction.

Even after I could hear a deep laugh, I couldn't take my eyes off this huge hunk of meat. His cock is thicker than my wrist and even limp as long as Jason's hard cock. Jason isn't small by any measurement, but this cop's cock is on another level.

But nothing could intimidate me like the sudden powerful jet of water that this man let out, completely occluding my bladder. It's so aggressive that I know he's doing it to intimidate me even further. And it's an eternity before he finally shakes off with a deep, low, satisfied groan.

He pulls back his foreskin and waves it to get the last drops out. But even then, he didn't pack it up again. Instead, he stroked it lazily. It scared me. Not because it wasn't damn hot to see this man do something like that, but because he might notice me staring at him.

A quick glance upwards is enough to see that he is looking down at me. The hunger in his eyes is darker now. "So you're a fag?" he asks with a malicious grin. He seems to know exactly what he's doing. Because for some reason, I could feel some kind of lust tightening in my stomach or wherever.

He boldly steps back from the urinal and holds his semi-hard cock in his massive hand, which would take him at least two more to completely enclose his cock. My eyes widened at the realization that this man wants me, not only wants me but might even want to destroy me, considering his... question.

“I-I-“

"Don't be shy," he mused. He comes closer with his feet straight and pushes me further back. "Touch it," he commanded me. Although his voice sounded sweet, I could feel the pressure of authority pressing on me.

Before I know it, I hold out my shaking hand. Soon I'm touching the fat cock head and feeling a wetness on it. The urge to try it rose in me. But I couldn't! I have a boyfriend! That thought, thankfully, brings me back to my senses. I quickly try to withdraw my hand. But before I can do that, something inside me stops my movements for some reason. I look up anxiously and look the officer straight in the eyes. He angrily stares down at me.

"I see you want more, don't you? Greedy little fagot!” His dark, murderous eyes are now paired with an equally sinister laugh that startles me so much I stumble backward. I almost fall to my knees from sheer weakness. "Get on your knees!" he suddenly orders me.

“Wha-“

"I'm not repeating myself!" he growled right in my face.

"I-I can't! I ha-have a boy-boyfriend!” My teeth are chattering from fear.

All he does is mock me. "You mean that guy out there? The one you flinched from when he touched you? Can't he satisfy a whore like you? Is he that pathetic?”

A sudden surge of caution washes over me. Finally free of this moment, I pull my hand away, even though I mentally curse myself for it. "It's not like-"

"You already cheated on him just because I took out my obviously bigger cock. It's only a matter of time how long it will be before you're begging to take it up your little bitch hole!"

He grins down at me so arrogantly that I immediately believe he is the case and then some. I don't seem to be his first victim of lust. That much is clear. But if you look like him, are built like him, and have a cock like him? Who can blame him for using it to his advantage? I would do the same if I were in his place.

A thick, awkward silence falls over us for a long moment. He just stares, seemingly trying to understand me. But then his face suddenly twists into pure disappointment. Tightened, he clicked his tongue dismissively. Right before me, he tucks his monster cock back into his pants and pulls up his fly. He gives me one last dissatisfied look before turning around.

Suddenly a pang of disappointment comes over me. But why? Is it because a man like him wants me? Do I want to please him? Do I want to please him more than being faithful to my loving boyfriend?

Everything goes so fast, and all these thoughts shoot through my head within seconds of him turning around. He only took two heavy steps, and it is impossible not to miss him. Even his footsteps showed a tremendous amount of authority. They are so powerful that I wish he would step on me.

At that moment, my mouth opens: "Stop!" I call after him, out of breath. For a moment, I did not realize that I'd said anything.

Before I know it, my back hits a wall so hard it takes my breath away. It was hard to focus again. But when I finally managed to come back, a broken moan escaped my lips. A massive hand gripped my throat and cut off my windpipe. But I don't care. After all, it's this man. His eyes were even darker than before.

His mouth opens, and he even says something, but the only thing I can focus on is his hand which I wish would beat me red and blue. I've never seen so many veins in a hand or forearm as he does.

From one moment to the next, my ears start ringing as my head flies to the side. For a second, I feel like a star hit me - literally.

"Are you back, bitch?" he asks smugly. He seems to know that everything about him makes me lose focus.

As pathetic as I am right now, I try to talk, but all that comes out is a choked sound. At that moment, I realize that his hand is still around my neck. So I nod submissively.

"Good," he says, still as smug as before, "because now you're going to listen to me carefully, understood?" Again I nod. "We don't have time for all the fun, so I'm going to turn you around, get you ready for a moment, and then fuck you stupid, got it?"

Unable to do anything else, knowing I'll do anything to feel his hand on me and not wanting to disappoint him again, I nod. Still grinning, he takes his hand from my throat. Instead, he cups my chin between his thumb and index finger. Carefully, gently he slaps my face. 

"Good boy," he whispers huskily in my ear.

Never in my life has my cock become as hard as it is at this moment. I squirm under his intense gaze. His callous hands trail down to my chest. So out of fear, I close my eyes, enjoying his full attention, only to be carelessly grabbed and thrown around. I soon find my face crushed against the disgusting white tiles of the bathroom.

He presses close to my back. I can feel his hardening cock poking against it. This man is just too big... in all regards. But he doesn't let that bother him. Instead, he uses the big body size difference to masturbate with my lower back.

His head is so close and yet, so far away that he has to bend down to let his breath tickle the hairs on the back of my neck and the fine hairs on my ears. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me. His lips are this close to my skin. "Are you clean?" he asks suddenly.

Confused by this question, I try to turn my head to look askance at him. Before I can do that, though, he pushes my head back to where he wants it. I fearfully gasp for air. "Yes," I answer him. Hoping he means if I'm healthy.

An intrusive feeling snaps me out of my thoughts as I feel a long finger poking through the crack in my ass. My eyes shoot down in shock. My pants are on the floor, around my ankles. How did he do that? I neither felt nor heard anything. I didn't even feel the cold breeze around my bare legs like I do now!

"And your hole, bitch?" His breathing gets ragged, hopefully with excitement, as mine does.

It feels so personal, too much, if I'm being honest. On the other hand, I'm standing in front of him half-naked, ready to take anything he wants to give me, just like the slut he thinks I am. And I can't even blame him for that. Then that's precisely how I'm behaving in this moment.

"I-I never ga-gave up my special diet," I choke out as his finger circles my tight hole. I realize how much I need a real man to touch me there and use my hole like it's his.

"Hmm..." he hummed contentedly. "What a good boy you are," he muses again, the smug grin evident in his voice.

As he calls me that again, my resolve shatters. My knees give out. Before I can move too much, though, his hands are on my waist. "Don't worry, I've got you," he murmured, "you're not the first whore to go weak in the knees. Although it usually doesn't happen until they find out how long my tongue is."

I'm gasping for air, confused as to what he could mean. But suddenly, his head is gone. Even more confused, I gather all my strength and press my hands against the wall to get my head off it. I can barely move my head, but my eyes immediately take in what is happening. This god of a man crouches behind me, his head level with my butt.

"Nice ass, I'll give you that," he says absently. With his hands, he kneads my perfectly round ass cheeks. A slap ripped a big moan out of my throat. "A perfect jiggle." At this point, he's just mumbling. He smacks my ass a few more times, though.

Until his voice suddenly gets even lower, with which he says a single word after a particularly hard slap on my ass: "Fuck".

Both together lead me to the most humiliating experience that I have ever happened to me in my entire life. With no warning or ability to stop it, I groan loudly.

It would certainly have been less humiliating if it hadn't snapped the cop out of his horny trance.

"Are you really that needy, bitch? Well, then maybe we should start?” 

Of course, that's not a question because only a second later, I feel his wet tongue on my hole. It's not hard for the tip to break through, considering his fingers have already made me pretty loose.

But he quickly pulls out the tip of his tongue just to lick my hole up and down, teasing it with the tip only to give it a big lick again. Honestly, he has driven me crazy within seconds. With my arms flat against the wall and my head banging against it, I let him do as he pleases.

He pays more attention to my needs than Jason has in years. For years he just fucks me until he's done and then leaves. But this cop? A man I've never met before - I might add - really knows what he's doing, like a pro.

I should soon find out what he meant by the comment about his long tongue because everything in his regard seems to be... extraordinary. I even believe that his tongue alone could get into my stomach. Of course, it can't. But he reaches in extremely far and covers my insides with his spit. He even goes as far as to spit deep inside me once or twice. Preparing me to take his monster cock without lube.

The once cool tiles no longer comfort me. The officer's hot, wet tongue gives me pleasure like no one has before. Not even Bryan, who before the officer was the best fucker I've ever had. And the officer still has to give me what I really want. What I desire, since I have noticed him.

But apparently, he won't give it to me without a fight. Because all he does is please me with his powerful tongue.

Soon, however, even the thoughts that, not so long ago, fill me with fear and disappointment in myself for giving myself to another man and the desire to please him.

All I can do now is fixate on the tongue deep in my greedy hole. The bumps on his tongue massaged my sensitive insides. But what really gets me going is the flexibility of his tongue. Suddenly, he rolls his tongue and uses it like an icebreaker to penetrate me even deeper.

For a second, my mind is blank. When I come to, I'm lying flat against the wall, a hand behind my back holding me tighter against it while an arm around my knees keeps me upright. I can feel the arrogant smirk on my butt, but at this point, I know he's right. I might not like it, but he's a sex god who can turn even something as simple as a rim job into a feast of pleasure.

The tingling sensation of his tongue going deep into areas previously reserved for cocks is just too nice. His tongue is obscene, as are the moans he can filter out of me. I'm already on cloud nine… no, wait, cloud eleven. He gets me high just through my lust.

My brain is so slow I don't feel his tongue leave my hole and gape like a fish out of water. It even takes a moment before he realizes he's spitting in, only to have his long fingers push it in deeper. And it takes even longer before I realize he's talking to me.

I slowly take in his words and somehow find the strength to turn my head slightly. I look at him with blurred eyes, the area around his lips shows a slight reddishness, but it's almost imperceptible.

"I don't think I can do it," I murmur almost silently.

"But a really good boy would do that for his man."

“You aren-“

"Do I have to punish you?" His voice suddenly drops again, and his eyes, which gleam with lust, are filled with anger and disappointment.

With new tears forming in my eyes, I shake my head. It puts back a smug smile on his full lips. "Good," he says before he takes my hand and puts it on his crotch.

Why he wants me to undo his fly again is beyond me, and with my shaking hand, it's no easy task anyway. It takes a while before I can even get my hands on it and even longer before I can open it. But the man doesn't care. He's patiently waiting for me to obey his commands like I'm his whore.

He still helps my hand reach into his pants and leans forward again before I can pull him out. So I can only jerk him off a little over his underwear. "I've never seen a fag like you, who is more like a whore than a regular fag and is falling apart so damn easily. You haven't even tasted my...dick." The last word lingered for a while, seductively.

One moment he's praising me, and the next, he's demeaning me, but unfortunately, both kind of turn me on. I've never bothered with either of them before have only done them to my partners, but now with him? With this man? I want to hear it from him, over and over again, both. Maybe it's his soothing, authoritative voice or his body and what he represents.

“I-I-“

"Try not to think too much," he says, still smugly. "I'm going to fuck you now whether you like it... or not. You asked me to do it, so I'll do it, and if I like your sweet little hole, I might make it mine."

A thousand things go through my mind, but mostly Jason, my faithful, loving boyfriend, who's still at the cafe...alone...waiting for me, and I'm here, with another man, no. .. a real man, someone who can give me what I need. "I can-"

Just as I begin to speak, a sudden pressure is applied to my not yet opened wide enough hole. The pain races through my body, but my mind is too busy to react immediately. On the other hand, the man behind me is more than ready. Before I know it, a hand blocks my mouth, and another arm pulls both of my hands behind my back and holds them there, just to be safe, I suppose.

"Now be a good little boy and scream!"

Without a second thought, the officer rammed into me. It overwhelms me. It feels like he's splitting me in half. While at the same time not giving me much time to understand what he's doing. Then, just a moment after ramming as much as he could into me, he pulled back completely. Every sound I want to make gets stuck in my throat. I just couldn't get it out.

I can feel an intense gaze on the back of my head. With his head far away from mine, his deep voice suddenly roared, "I told you to yell for me, you stupid fag!" After saying this, the officer, annoyed at my uncooperative, aims and rams his massive dick back into my hole.

Finally, muffled screams echo through the room, and tears run down the officer's rough, large hand. Almost as soon as those painful screams come from me, I hear a loud moan of satisfaction behind me.

"You're a lot tighter than I thought...Your boyfriend is even more pathetic than I thought...Shit, so fucking tight!"

Even though he's using me like a fucking toy and doesn't seem to care how much pain he's causing me, I admit it's exactly what I need. I might not be able to walk for a few days and perhaps even bleed because the cop suddenly opens my tight hole so wide. But I already know I'll be needing something like this more often. I would prefer it if he never pulled his cock out again.

I'm so far gone after he pushes himself back inside me that my screams soon become bubbling noises.

Almost as if he's waiting for something like this to happen, he removes his hand from my mouth without breaking his rhythmic movements. "Did you try to say something?" he asks smugly. His breathing is even as if this is something normal to him. Remembering his massive, muscular physique and thinking that he's not just a gym rat but an athlete through and through gives me my answer to my unasked question. Somehow it made this situation even more erotic.

"Roem, a ened erom," I tell him. Everything is right in my head, and I tell him I need more. But when I hear my own words, I am deeply embarrassed.

He chuckles darkly, knowing as well as I do that he's already broken me after just a few moments of him fucking me. Suddenly, a strange, unfamiliar glow appears in his eyes. Just as it appears, he forcibly turns my head and pulls it back, arching my back. As he smiles down at me, terror courses through my veins. Whatever's going on in his head, it can't be good.

Suddenly something wet hits my face. Barely able to open one of my eyes, I see that his smile has grown, and a string of spit is hanging out of his mouth. Shocked and disgusted, all I could do was gape at him.

But he seems to take this as an invitation, so he quickly slaps his hand on my cheek and massages his spit into my skin, two fingers even wiping a bit into my mouth.

Unable to comprehend what is happening, I close my mouth around his fingers and lick them like an obedient whore.

“Fuck!“

His hand on my face suddenly pushes my head down while his other arm pulls me back. Thinking he wants to bend me over and press me against the wall, I move as much as possible to help him with my aching body.

But to my utmost shock, he goes even further. Instead of against the wall, he presses my head close to the bottom of the toilet, into which he has just urinated without flushing. I can smell the strong smell. He almost pushed me in. But I can barely get my hands on the toilet to prevent that.

I choke on the disgusting stench and almost throw up. The officer keeps me there even after hearing about it. "You'd do anything to get that cock back, wouldn't you?" he asks menacingly. Even without hearing anything else, I'm split: on the one hand, I would do anything to feel him again. On the other hand, I have my own pride. And I don't like that shit.

So I gather all my strength to draw a line. I cling to the toilet with an effort, undeterred by his powerful attempts to push me back down.

It takes a while, but once I move away from that smell, I grab onto the top of the toilet and turn my head. "Fuck you!" I tell him in a moment of clarity.

"Feisty." He's not even confused by my sudden action, which confuses me more than anything else. "I like it. A tight fucking hole, handsome, and not easy to bend." After that, there's a long pause, but I can see he's about to say something else. "Then come here and see how much punishment you can endure!"

It's the only form of warning before he pulls me flat against his massive chest, lifts me in the air, grabs me in odd places, and twists me with his monster cock inside me. When I finally get a close look at him, he's pinning us against the wall, with both of my legs resting on his left shoulder because of my pants binding them together and staring down into my eyes.

Not long after, I realize that his warning is no idle threat. He starts pounding me like a beast without breaking eye contact. Even though he's the most handsome man I've ever seen, I didn't feel like kissing him like Jason... Jason does. Shit, I'm cheating on my loving boyfriend.

When the man sees something is wrong, he pushes me harder against the wall. "Don't think about that loser. I'm fucking you, not him! Remember this!"

With that, he goes all in and even starts to sweat a bit. But that doesn't last long as all the pressure of the moment finally takes hold of me. My sensitive cock starts moving, and the officer has to hit me only one more time to make me cum again. This time, however, I scream Jason's name loudly.

But deep anger comes over him when he hears Jason's name slip from my lips. He starts to brutally fuck my hole, which makes my head go blank.

When I come to, the officer slumps on top of me, my hole drenched with his cum.

"You c-came inside me?" I ask him, my fear evident in my voice.

"Of course," he says smugly, "your hole is mine now!"

As if to make his point even clearer, he quickly pulls himself out of my sore hole, sets me down on the floor, and kicks me in the back of my knees, causing me to fall on top of her. I look up at him in confusion in my delirium. Before I could ask what he's doing, he opened my mouth slightly with his thumb. Still confused, I just let him do what he wants. But as the saying goes, if you give some people a hand, they take your entire arm.

Before I know it, he's cramming his first five or six inches down my throat, not without my teeth scraping his skin because of the surprise.

Thankfully, when I look up at him in shock, he doesn't look unhappy. More smug than anything. "Yeaaaah...uhh...oh damn! This hole is mine too!” he says firmly, not caring if I want it... or not. He simply decides for me.

At this point, I don't want to mention Jason anymore or think of him for fear of being punished again. "Clean that damn cock up, fagot!" He grins down at me. It makes me weak enough to see past what he just did. So push him back slightly to get a little control. With both hands, I lightly jerk his semi-hard cock, sucking his cock head clean and licking the rest of his monster clean as well.

When I look up again after cleaning him fully and dropping his cock, I see a happy glow in his eyes.

“Put it back in!“ 

Without further inquiry, I did as I was told, taking his now limp cock - still massive - and shoving it back into his pants, pulling his underwear over them, and pulling his fly back up. I place my hands on his large thighs for a second longer to catch my breath.

As I breathe, one of his large hands caresses me almost lovingly. His smugness is now completely gone. "Don't cry. Isn't it as bad as you might think," he told me cryptically. "Open your mouth."

This time I'm more reserved and only stare at him. He quickly realizes I won't do what he told me to do. He rolled his eyes, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled my hair. For a second, it hurt so bad that I opened my mouth involuntarily. He quickly stuck two fingers in and put something in my mouth.

I try to bite him, but he pulls his fingers out fast enough. As I glare at him, his smug smile is back. "Don't worry," he waved dismissively, "It's just a peppermint." Still, after telling me that, he gets dangerously close to me again. His smug grin turns predatory again. "You don't want your useless little friend smelling a real man on your breath, do you?"

His words hit all the right spots. He knows my guilt and bathes in it like a psychopath.

I push myself away from him, and instead, I crash into the tiled wall, not hard enough to hurt myself, but my dignity was injured nonetheless.

"Next time, I don't want to feel teeth on my cock, got it... bitch?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before going to the sink, washing his hands, and exiting the toilet without a backward glance.

He left me here...alone, with my face in my hands. Finally, the realization of what I've done comes into its own. How could I do that? Jason loves me, and I-I love him too. This will destroy him!

Though sadness overwhelms me, I somehow stand up. To do this, though, I put my hands on the side of the urinal to use as leverage, as my legs were more jelly than anything. Standing isn't any better, my whole back hurts like hell, and my ass is on fire. Somehow, however, I manage to get back to the sink.

When I see my reflection in the mirror, I'm not shocked to see myself completely disheveled. After all, my whole body just got destroyed by this arrogant fucking cop so annoyingly smug... I want to... fucking punch him in the face!

As my anger mounts, I realize it's my fault. A desperate sigh escapes my lips. I activated the water, splashed more water on my face, and cleaned up as best I could in a cafe toilet.

I could remove almost all the accumulated visible sweat and even save my hair to a certain extent. Only the redness on my face and slightly swollen eyes still told me something had happened.

I wait another minute, just hoping I don't seem too suspicious. When I'm happy enough with how I look, I walk to the toilet door and open it with a trembling hand to confront the man I love and just betrayed.

Extra:

Jason is happily sitting at our table while doing something on his phone. When I walk towards him or limp, he thankfully doesn't sense my presence until I've reached him and already sat down again.

"Are you all right again?"

Why is he ignoring my obviously different appearance? I look all messed up, and he doesn't react at all! Somehow it makes me angry. Is he even looking at me?

Suddenly he focuses on one point. As my gaze wanders to this point, terror fills my veins; A fucking semen stain, already crusted. But Jason just pulls out a tissue, looks around, and pulls my shirt up slightly to carefully clean my stomach. I can only sit there in horror.

“I-I can ex-explain I-„

Jason gives me a bright smile and just shakes his head. Which immediately silences me.

I can only wait until he's ready to talk and embarrassedly enjoy the attention he's giving me. I haven't felt this good in years! Even if the overshadowing feelings of guilt are getting stronger.

Even after he let my shirt drop, he's still smiling.

“I really need to tell-“

"Jason!" a sudden voice calls out to my boyfriend. One that I know only too well because a few minutes ago, the voice humiliated me and, at the same time, made me feel like a worthy sexual partner.

As I feel the blood drain from my face, I can only watch in horror as the same cop comes to our table, ruffles Jason's hair like he's done it a million times, and sits beside me, putting his arm too close for comfort.

He grins at me, making it painfully clear that something has happened between us.

"How do you know each other?"

With his still smug smirk, the cop switched between Jason and me before focusing on my boyfriend. "He's my little brother. I still can't believe he never told you about me. After all, we hang out together all the time!”

As soon as the words that his dirty mouth uttered registered in my brain, I almost fainted.

“Bro-Brother?“ I ask both men for clarification.

“Yeah,“ Jason admitted in a lowered voice.

Again the cop looks back and forth between Jason and me and can obviously sense the awkward atmosphere around us increasing as best I can feel it.

"Well, nice to finally meet the 'perfect guy' as Jason always flaunts you to me. But I have to go,” he tells us loudly, only for him to lean against me. "Remember, I like you tight," he whispers in my ear while his hand presses softly against my throat again.

But the moment breaks just as quickly as it has come. Jason's brother gets up and walks away, leaving me speechless.

"We can talk about this in the car," Jason says suddenly.

Tears well up in my eyes in a whirlwind of emotions. I don't want to let them fall in public, so I plainly nod. Oddly enough, Jason takes my hand and lovingly draws circles on the back.

But I'm far gone in my head. I now fully realize the gravity of what I've done. Maybe he could have forgiven me for cheating on him if it was some random guy, but his brother?

With a heavy stomach - that almost makes me throw up at our favorite coffee shop - Jason leads me straight to his car. He carefully helps me into the passenger seat and brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. Out of nowhere, he plants a nice, long kiss on my forehead.

I know, Jason! He's not so stupid that he didn't recognize the situation. So why is he still so loving?

It doesn't look like I'll be getting an answer to my silent question any time soon. Because as he gets into the car, he starts it and drives off. I have never experienced such silence, heavy and suffocating.

“I met Bryan again over two years ago.“

When he suddenly starts speaking, I jump a little. Maybe even a high-pitched squeak came out of my throat.

Jason doesn't even give me a sideways glance. He just starts talking again. "By that point, I could already sense that you were no longer sexually happy with me. I asked him if we could have a beer in the evening, and when we met, I asked him how he could keep you happy for so long. He was uncomfortable talking about it because he is actually married now after getting his girlfriend pregnant. But I got it out of him, and...let's just say it wasn't what I wanted to hear."

If someone had told me that my first ex could tear my whole world apart, even if we parted on good terms or as I thought it was on good terms, I wouldn't have believed it. But here I am, fighting against the only guy stupid enough to tell anyone's boyfriend stuff like that.

I gently place my hand on Jason's leg and try to get him to look at me so I can explain, but he doesn't react.

"I always thought I could be the guy you want and need. Maybe I'm the guy you want but not the guy you need. I felt insecure before speaking to Bryan because our sex life had already dwindled, but from what he told me, I felt... inadequate. And how could I not? His cock is huge... he showed me a picture. But the worst? That he could be something I can never be. A master."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Jason and I, of course, talked about our preferences. But I never mentioned my greatest. Yes, in the beginning, Jason was a dominant male, but around the same time, I realized it was just a facade. But I was willing to do anything to be happy with him.

“But Jason, I love you and what I did is not-“

"For once in your life, can you shut up?" He yells, gazing into my eyes angrily. I wanted to say something, and he could see that. "I set you up!"

“W-What?“

"I set you up with my brother," he finally admits. "He stopped by two weeks ago when you weren't there. I've been thinking about breaking up with you to give you a chance to find someone you need. All my ex-boyfriends have cheated on me with my brother at some point. He always told me beforehand. But this time? After he reminded me of the love you and I share? I-I asked him to be the one to give you what you need.”

"I don't understand." I'm breathless. I couldn't breathe! What's wrong with me?"

Jason doesn't seem to be doing any better, however. "I asked him to wear the most tight-fitting uniform he has, knowing he would draw your attention. Afterward, he told me that if we both had healthy sex lives, you would never have considered his advances. But he could tell you were starving for brutal sex.” 

It must be difficult for him to admit his deepest worries. Because now I'm just someone who chose his brother over him.

“He's actually in to make this into something regular. And I have already agreed.”

"W-What? Don't I have a say in that too?” I ask him perplexed.

"I'm your boyfriend! That is never going to change! But I can't dominate you as much as you need to. It's the other way around... actually. I want you..."

His last words hang in the air like a lifeline. Yet I cannot really comprehend what he is revealing. A plot to cheat on him, but not to cheat him, but what for? Strengthen our relationship? Or getting me also into a relationship with his brother?

“What does all of this mean, Jason?“

He took a deep breath and took my hand into his again. He looks straight into my confused eyes. "My brother will be your only lover. And I want you to be dominant in bed with me."

I'm stunned, and it will probably take me a moment to really understand what he's saying. This is why we continue driving in silence until we arrive in the underground car park of our apartment building and come to a stop. Where everything suddenly hits me like a rock.

“Jason?“

“Yes, my love?“

“Are you a cuckold?“

It seems I hit the hammer on the head because his frozen reaction, unable to meet my gaze, speaks volumes.

"So you want to watch me get utterly destroyed by your own brother?" The question hangs heavily in the air.

“I-I don’t-I-“

"It sounds really... hot. I can imagine him fucking me silly while you stare at me with jealousy, and my face is contorted with ecstasy... I can imagine us doing that.”

I must have shocked Jason to the core because he fell silent. But he still holds my hand tightly in his. However, that didn't stand with me. I aggressively pull my hand out, stunning him even more.

Without saying a word, I get out of the car, walk around it and yank open his car door. He looks at me so perplexed that I want to cuddle with him and apologize.

“Get out!“ I order him.

He looks at me with wide eyes, a kind of pleasure in them, still trying to understand what I'm doing.

"Eyes down and follow me. You don't touch or look at me, understand?” Jason nods submissively. Grinning, I cup his face in my hands and give him a small kiss on his lips. Only to slap him in the face the next second with a cold expression on his face. He shudders under my gaze and quickly lowers his eyes.

I have a sinking feeling that this agreement will not go as planned. But for now, I'll try to make Jason happy.

[Masterlist]

[sweetingseva]

Everything to Know About ACFTL ☺️💕📚

Hello, everyone!

With A Curse For True Love coming out next week, I thought maybe creating a compile list of what everything we will be expecting might be helpful to those who want a refresher.

However, if you don't want to be reminded of any of the details that have been shared and want to go in blind, that's cool, too!

All of the information that I have gathered has been from all of the IG AMA's stories, comments, replies, and some from podcasts.

Slight spoilers. Quick refresher below.

Stephanie hasn’t been nice writing this book, but let’s see if the torture is well worth it in the end.

There’s this scene that corresponds to these emoji: 🛏😮🩸🚪🩸🩸🩸😱🍎👑

There are three POVs: Evangeline, Jacks, and Apollo

The answer to why Jacks eat apples is in the book, but according to B&N site, we might get the answer to everything about him!

Q: is there a scene you’ve written that’s made you tear up? A: “So many scenes have made me cry—I don’t tear up, I sob, and writing this series has made me cry a lot more than the Caraval series 💘😭 But don’t be too scared—I’ve put a lot fun scenes in this book. Although, my defintion of fun is a little twisted. 🤭”

Q: Do you already have a favorite scene in “A Curse For True Love”? A: Usually I have favorites but with this book I love every scene. I keep telling my editor to let me know if I’ve gone too far with this story because I’ve had so much fun writing. I keep fearing I must be doing something wrong. 🖤”

There will be more LaLa and Chaos scenes, and apparently Stephanie has gotten carried away with them lol

There will be a few more scenes in the Hollow!!!! YAAYYY!

Her favorite scene has something to with these emojis: 🌳🫀🔥

Stephanie has cried the last time she had read ACFTL.

Q: what’s your favorite scene out of all the books in this series: A: “This is so tough. There’s a scene in CURSE that made me cry and it’s probaly my favorite 💔”

Q: can you tell us who the bonus content povs will be? A: “For B&N and Waterstones, the bonus content is in Eva’s POV. 🦊”

My speculation from the answer above, but this makes me think that the Owlcrate’s edition will be Jacks’s POV if not Evangeline’s.

Q: did u know how acftl would end early on? or did it change as you wrote it? A: “It changed! In January, I hit a wall with the book and after talking with my critique partner @/staceyleeauthor, I realized that I had taken the story in the wrong direction. So I went back, I rewrote, I changed the plot, and I changed a large portion of the ending. This is part of the reason why the book’s publication date was changed from Sept to Oct.”

Q: What three songs come to mind when you think of Evangeline and Jacks? A: “Ooh! It’s hard to pick just three. Here are a few that came to mind first: 1. The Archer by Taylor Swift, 2. You’re Losing Me by Taylor Swift, 3. Religiously by Bailey Zimmerman”

Q: Do you pick the audiobook narrators for your books? A: “I did! @/macmillan.audio is wonderful. They’ve always given me a choice in narrators. The amazing @/rebeccasoleri has narrated all of my audiobooks (so she’s an easy choice). Then for ACFTL I got to choose a second narrator for the Jacks and Apollo chapters and he is also fantastic ❤️”

IMPORTANT TO KNOW ‼️: Q: are there actually multiple copies of acftl with different endings? A: “The book only has one official ending. Which I think is the best ending. However, there are three editions that bonus material in the form of 3 alternate epilogues. The books with bonus epilogues are: 1. Barnes and Noble/Indigo exlusive edition 2. the Waterstones exclusive, 3. the Owlcrate edition. P.S. These 3 bonus epilogues are not canon, they are just for fun! P.P.S. if you get all three, I recommend reading in the order that I shared in this post 😉”

The third map has new locations, along with old ones we have seen like: Merrywood Manor, Merrywood Village, Merrywood Forest, Wolf Hall, Ye Olde Brick Inn: Vacancy One Bed, The Phoenix Tree, Cursed Forest, Tree of Souls, and The Hunt.

ACFTL has 49 chapters with an epilogue. It only has one part titled, IV. Happily Ever After.

The dedication that was revealed says, “For anyone who’s ever hoped for a second chance.”

The tree on the front cover is very important.

ACFTL’s logline: Two villains, one girl, and a deadly battle for happily ever after.

The three words that Stephanie used to describe the book is: Heart-stealing, emotionally-devastating, and painfully romantic.

Stephanie shared the Pinterest board, which could be found here! Some very good hints in there!

The UK editions of ACFTL will have hidden covers. There are four of them and they are: an apple, Jacks’s dagger, a fox paw print, and a wolf in a flower crown.

Fairyloot edition has a special front and back cover that says, "The Greatest Love Story Ever Told: Evangeline Fox and The Prince of Hearts" and "The Greatest Love Story Ever Told: Evangeline Fox and Apollo Acadian."

Quotes Shared:

“Remember, Little Fox.”

“If you stop fighting, you lose.” His hand moved up to her throat and she felt the cool brush of his dagger against her skin. Evangeline went very still. “ Never imagine you’re safe.” The tip of his blade drew a line over her pulse. Her breath caught. She felt him smile against her jaw.

(Possible Quote) “You have no sense of self-preservation. If someone labeled a bottle with poison you would drink it. You take warnings as invitations. You can’t seem to stay away from all the things that will hurt you … like me.”

Evangeline needed something familiar, something to hold onto that would keep her from collapsing back to the ground. Apollo looked at her as if he wanted to be that. He made her think of a hero from a fairytale.

(Page 21) “No.” “No.” “No.” (Page 100) He wanted a piece of her. (Page 213) “You can’t just tie people up and whisk them to wherever you want them.”

Apollo hated apples.

He enjoyed inflicting pain, not receiving it. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave the shadows of Evangeline’s bedroom.

“I’m glad you came.” “I’ll always come. Even when you don’t want me to.”

He wanted a piece of her. To keep her. To use her for later.

“What are you to me?” she asked. His eyes locked with hers. “Nothing.”

“Im the one who will never let anyone harm you again.”

“I’m your monster.”

He considered setting the room ablaze just so that he’d have a reason to pick her up and carry her out, to save her one last time, before he left her for good.

“This will hurt.”