#rather than the people he talked it about

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: How to get under your enemy/rival's skin? Charles answer was to start dating his younger sister. But now, he's glad he found love along the way. He only had to tell Max about the relationship when you won a race. That's won't be any time soon though . . . right?

*in honor of Lando's first win - here's this next installment of Reverse Tropes! I know that Max and Charles really aren't enemies. Maybe I should have done like a Pierre and Esteban thing, but I don't write for them. So here we go and please enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. 

Predestined rivals, written in the stars, invisible string, yada-yada-yada. 

Putting it simply, Charles had an apt for pissing Max off and vice-versa. The world thought they would kill each other in karting, especially after the 2012 incident. The population sighed in relief when Max was taken from F3 and put in a Formula 1 car, while Charles took a bit longer. 

And then Charles made it to Formula 1 in 2018. However, he was put in a HAAS, a car that was not really made to play with the other cars in the front of the pack. The earth was saved yet another year. 

Well, until 2019 when Charles suddenly became the “It Boy” for the Prancing Horse. Meaning, that he could finally go back to terrorizing the grid and Max. But with terrorizing the grid came loads of trouble and hatred. 

And more pissing off your rival. 

Charles seethed on the podium as he listened to the Dutch national anthem and watched Max point to the stupid “H” on his race suit. He held in a scoff. At least the Ferrari logo was much better looking than that. 

It wasn’t fair. He had the racing line and Max pushed him off. If his mind wandered, it would go back to a certain kart race back in 2012 where he pulled the same move. But that didn’t count because the race has already finished. Charles would have rather been disqualified instead of having to go through the torture of being up on the podium in second. 

First loser as they call it. 

The Monegasque driver held no happiness in his body as Max started spraying his winner’s champagne. Charles just picked up his bottle and drank it. 

Still wasn’t as sweet as victory champagne would be. 

He deliberately separated himself from Max as they stood for a picture. The visible gap made it much more hilarious for everyone around them. 

When the festivities finished, he hightailed it out of there, just wanting to avoid the Dutchman presence. Charles sighed loudly as he walked back to the garage, definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone. 

“Charlie!

The Monegasque stopped in his tracks, annoyance almost wracking his entire being. Can people just let him wallow in defeat? He straightened his shoulders and turned around, PR smile plastered on his face. However, the very fake smile turned into a real one when he noticed that you were almost jogging to catch up with him. 

Y/n Verstappen. 

You had always been a part of his childhood. Where Max was, you were one step behind him, following him in your small racing overalls. He remembered how little you always seemed compared to your brother. But size didn’t matter on the karting course. 

Most of the time, the two boys found themselves trying to shake you off and others were behind your kart, picking up the dirt that you sent their way. And that’s why Charles put your name down as recommendations for his Prema seat after he won the championship in 2017. Because of him, you were able to graduate to Formula 2 and were on the track to make a debut in Formula 1 in the coming years. 

“Hey Y/n,” Charles said softly, still not in the mood to really talk to anyone. But for you, he’d always make an exception. And he was supposed to fly back with you and Max, something he was still dreading. 

You look at the Monegasque with sympathy. Charles wasn’t able to find any type of pity in your blue eyes (that matched Max’s). 

Your brows furrowed as to talked to him. “What Max did wasn’t the right way to race. But Formula 1 is getting more and more competitive.” 

The man, er boy, wanted to huff. He did not need this conversation from you. He almost turned around, but the next few sentences stopped him from making any motions. 

“Charlie, you’ve always found ways to beat him. If he wants to play like this, then you just have to give him a taste of his medicine, get under his skin. Do what you always do and somehow get around him.” 

He cocked his head, before his eyes lit up. 

Get under his skin.

You watched as Charles’s eyes filled up with some light, making the green in them really shine. You could almost see ideas concocting in his head.

Charles went to say something, but was interrupted by his team principle. He swerved to respond before he turned back to you. There was a glint in his eyes that you really couldn’t put a finger on. 

His took a deep breath before asking, “Do you want to maybe get dinner with me?” 

Your eyes widened. Sure, the Monegasque was very attractive, but those were not the words that you were expecting to come out of his mouth. 

Oh. 

Now you got it. 

Your facial expressions melted a bit, eyes pointed toward the ground as you kicked at it. Your arms crossed as you huffed. 

“Using me for gain over my brother wasn’t what I was meaning Charles. I was thinking more like unfollow him on social media while we’re on the plane or something.” 

The harsh “Ch” that began his name had him wincing. Like your brother, you had a small lisp which normally softened the two consonants to the point where his name sounded like it was supposed to be. And what was “Charles?” You rarely ever called him that, choosing to pick the more boyish nickname. 

Although, your idea about Instagram wasn’t a bad one. 

Charles looked a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. He honestly was endeared by you and your determination to never give up. He found you, well, cute. You were still 19, younger than him by a bit more than three years. 

But if you were cute back in 2012 hanging on to Max’s wet overalls after the puddle, and you were cute now trying to console him instead of celebrating your brother’s victory, you would still be cute in the following years. 

He sighed, knowing that he had to leave soon or he was going to get an earful from Sebastian for being late to yet another meeting. The Ferrari driver stepped forward a bit, getting closer to you. He looked down at his helmet before looking back to your eyes. 

“When I win and when I beat your brother, then can I take you out to dinner?” 

You mulled over the question in your head. 

If he beat Max before you went out with him, then that meant that he was actually genuine and wasn’t using it to his gain. You also smirked, knowing that indeed it would piss Max off whenever he found out. Your position as an annoying younger sister would still be intact and possibly stronger. 

You held out your hand, which Charles took in an instant. 

“Deal Leclerc.” 

“Deal Verstappen.” 

When Charles took the top step in Spa, pride filled his chest when he noticed Max’s glare at him. He had beaten the Dutchman at his home race. Albeit, it was a DNF for Max, but a win either way.  He swayed back and forth as his national anthem played and then sang quietly along with the Italian anthem. Deep in his heart, he knew the true weight of the win. 

For Anthoine. 

He knew somewhere he made his French friend proud. Just like Jules. And Just like Papa.

Charles watched down below as you looked like you could hardly keep a smirk off your face. And it was bad too as you stood next to Max, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there below Charles. 

The Monegasque raised his eyebrows when you locked eyes. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t catch on that he was staring right at you. Thankfully, you were right next to a Ferrari manager, so Max could guess that Charles was looking at him. 

When the winner finally got ready, you were waiting outside his garage. 

“Hi,” you whispered, putting your phone away. Charles didn’t verbally respond, but he wrapped his arms around you. You melted in his arms, still smelling a bit of the champagne in his hair. 

He looked down at you. 

“Are you ready for dinner?” 

Your eyes held a playful glint. “I hope you chose a good restaurant Leclerc.” 

He scoffed, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you turned to leave. “Only the best Verstappen.” 

The dinner went really well, but you weren’t expecting it to be a continual thing. 

And then Charles won in Monza the next week, and he once again asked you to dinner. And once again, the Monegasque set expectations higher than you every imagined. You were saddened when Charles wasn’t able to win any more races while your brother seemed to get better and better each race. 

You could only giggle while you watched them still avoid each other in Singapore. 

But, the dinners turned into texting, and texting turned to other dates, and dates turned into dating, and dating turned into a relationship, and the relationship turned into an almost five year commitment that you or Charles weren’t planning to end soon. 

The relationship saw your brother become a world champion in 2021, Charles becoming a world champion in 2022, and you joining the grid as a rookie for McLaren after a disastrous attempt for an Alpine seat.

Charles had been furious and Max had almost found out about the relationship. The two of you were still scared that Max might hold some coldness for the past. But when he called Charles “Charlie,” the special nickname that you had for him, you thought that it might be a good idea to tell him. 

“But mon ange, he will run me off the track if he finds out,” Charles whined into your stomach as you played with his hair before the Miami Grand Prix. 

You rolled your eyes and tugged at the strands. “No he won’t. You have to worry about your teammate doing that to you instead.” 

Another whine left Charles making you giggle. 

“At least you’re starting on the front row. I have to start P5! Oscar has been making fun of me all weekend.” 

The Aussie had been such a God send for you during your rookie season. The elder by a few months had taken you under his wing. The two of you had been so close to a win last year, and with the upgrades this weekend, you were sure that you or him would start on the front row. 

And then you had to be hit during the sprint, which didn’t help the mechanics in the hours before the race quali. That in turn made your car feel weird and P5 was the best you could do. Maybe Charles was secretly transferring his unluckiness into you. 

The Monegasque turned his head to look you in the eyes. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head. 

“We’ll tell him when I win a race. How about that?” 

Charles knew that you were just unlucky as he was when it came to winning a race. Last year,  you had been close in Spa, but a rouge rainstorm saw you spinning out on the second to last lap. Austin you had pole, but Max fought you on into turn one, making you go wide. You never saw your brother after the first lap as you fell down the grid. Charles held you each night as you cried. 

The red-clad-driver sat up and held your head in his hands. “You’ll win soon enough. Maybe not this weekend because I don’t have any time to prepare.” 

You laughed and just brought him in to a kiss. There was literally no way you could win this weekend. Beating Max Verstappen with pole from P5 on a track that he had a 100% win rate at? 

Impossible.

Charles thought he was going to cry as he crossed the line in P3. From you winning or having to tell your bother that he defiled his baby sister, he didn’t know. 

What he did know was that he was going to get out of his car and congratulate you immediately. What were the odds that you won on the anniversary of the stupid inchident, the first time that Charles had ever seen you with Max. 

(And yes, he did remember the anniversary but didn’t want to bring it up.) 

You, however, were frozen in your car. You took some deep breaths as you took the steering wheel off, stood up a bit, bent to put it back on, and straightened, holding your pointer finger up. Your fists clenched as you raised them, automatically hearing the crowds roar when you waved. 

A tug on your sleeve brought you down into Max’s arms. You were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Charles, but that would be too obvious. 

“YOU DID IT!” Max yelled in your ear, well, your helmet as you hadn’t taken the neon thing off yet. 

You really didn’t want people to see the tear stains on your face. But right now, you’d just stay in the protection of your brother’s arms. When he let go of you, he lifted your visor, twin eyes meeting yours. 

“You did such an amaz-”

“I’m dating Charles.” 

Blink. 

Blink. 

Blink. 

You took the moment of a frozen Max to turn to your team. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Dutchman was still stuck in his place as you got farther and farther away. You grimaced, knowing what was to come if Max and Charles met at any time when you weren’t there. 

An arm around your shoulders brought you out of your head. The light blue caught your eyes, signaling that it was Charles. He patted your shoulders, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You did feel a bit of pressure move your helmet, so he must have quickly smushed his face into the black swirls. A helmet kiss if you would guess. 

You wanted to turn around to warn him of the imminent danger that was waiting for him in the form of Max Verstappen, but you were led away before you could. 

Your fears immediately went away though when your eyes finally landed on your team. Helmet thrown to the ground, you made the decision to throw yourself at them as well. Your laughs could be heard as your mechanics lifted you higher as everyone seemed to want to congratulate you for their first win since Monza 2021, which you weren’t even on the team then. 

When Charles stepped into the cooldown room, he could feel the awkwardness. It also didn’t help that Max was glaring at him from the corner. Charles was a bit worried. He thought that Max was fine with him now after they had both sort of mended their weird friendship during 2023. 

He turned to you as you walked in, all sweaty. 

Charles still thought you looked very pretty. 

“Eyes off Leclerc.” 

Charles froze in his place and looked between the siblings. He looked at you, then Max, then you, and then Max again. You winced, not looking him in the eyes. Realization flooded his body and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out.  

“Mon Dieu.” 

“We will be talking after this,” Max pointed, drinking from his water bottle, not taking his eyes off Charles. 

When you were called to the little Jeeps, you quickly got into the bright pink Barbie-esque looking one, still buzzing from your win. Even if the two men behind you had put a damper on it. 

Charles’s eyes only fixed on one of the cars, not even seeing the third one behind the second. He climbed right in, eyes closed as he sat down. However, his eyes shot open when the car tilted and a thigh was touching his. He gulped rather loudly, refusing to look to his right. 

This was Vegas all over again. 

Max kept his voice low. “When did it start?” 

“2019. After Austria.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to get to know her more.” 

“What was the reason Charles?” 

The Monegasque sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “I was angry at you and wanted to get back at you somehow.” 

He knew he was about to be punched on live television, but he continued hoping for redemption. 

“But, I knew that was wrong. We didn’t even go out until Spa. And then again in Monza. And then it just happened.” 

He turned to look directly at Max, knowing that he only had a few more moments before they had to go out onto the podium. 

“Max I love your sister. I have the ring and everything. We’ve been happy for 5 years and have made it work. Please, she’s really all the good I have left. I would throw everything away for her. And-”

Max’s laughs stopped him from continuing. The Dutchman slapped a hand on Charles’s thigh, making him wince a bit. 

The Red Bull driver’s eyes were crinkled with a smile as they pulled up to the parking spot. 

“Just keep her happy, or I will run you off the track.” 

“Y/n! I told you he’d threaten me!” 

“Max!” 

“Oh come on I did not!” 

y/nverstappen4 has posted

y/nverstappen4 WE DID IT! P1 BABAYYYYYYY 🏆

nothing beats a podium with me on the top step surrounded by my boys 💙🧡❤️

liked by mclaren, team_quadrant, charles_leclerc, and 2,903,940 others

queeny/n LETS ACTUALLY GOOOOOOOOO

mclaren that's our girl 🧡 well deserved

lecstappenshipper this is basically a hard launch

y/nhaswins such a beautiful race y/n!!!!

charles_leclerc so so proud of you mon ange 🧡❤️ *liked by y/nverstappen4*

charles_leclerc celebrations tonight? 😈

y/nverstappen4 but of course

maxverstappen1 I know where you sleep leclerc 🙂

y/nverstappen4 DRINKS ON MAX TONIGHT

oscarpiastri YEAAHHHHHHH 🍾

maxverstappen1 what?

charles_leclerc thank you max ☺️

maxverstappen1 I NEVER AGREED TO THIS

oscarpiastri mega job mate 👊

y/nverstappen4 ossieeeeeee 👊 don't worry, you'll be up there soon! just gotta wrap your car in bubble wrap to protect it from evil ferrari 😠😤

charles_leclerc ☹️

y/nverstappen4 NOT YOU CHARLIE - THE OTHER ONE (LEWIS HURRY UP)

lewishamilton you don't think I'm trying 🤨

mcy/n she's so funny what the heck?? 😂

chefy/n we said - LET HER COOK

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[euphoriaslux]

two’s a party.

summary: you recently transferred to stanford, and decide to tutor a tennis player in your class. he has a friend. severe indecency ensues.

word count: 3.3k

warnings : smut, threesomes, f!oral receiving, swearing, smoking, drinking. slight cuck energy if you squint (i’m sorry ((no i’m not))). no challengers spoilers!

a/n: this fic got away from me big time but this movie has rotted my brain and as a result i have written utter debauchery that i will not apologize for. just had to get this out of my head, enjoy!

-

stanford science hall. monday , march 3.

You swear the last thing you’ll hear before your body is lowered into your grave is the process of lactic acid breakdown.

It’s 2:30 PM. Kinesiology 189 with Professor Wilson, a lanky middle-aged man with a PhD in exercise science and a half-grown beard that you don’t think will ever fully grow in, is almost over. He’s teaching Extended Studies of the Human Body in a humid classroom filled with student-athletes, most of whom are trying to stay awake, trying to hide that they’re taking a nap, or making no attempt to hide that they’re on their phones. You don’t really blame any of them, because the professor’s voice is so soft and monotone that it feels like he’s begging everyone to pay attention to anything but him. You’ve managed to stay somewhat on course with the thread of today’s lecture, the notebook in front of you filled with scribbles of incomplete molecular structures and somewhat legible drawings of the muscular anatomy of a hamstring.

This class is required for your biology major since you’re on a pre-medicine track. You don’t know why you’re doing it, the whole doctor thing, but you’ve developed a weird fixation for this class. The functionality of the body, how muscles stretch and tear with each movement, and how amino acids work to build them back even bigger.

And, possibly because of the tennis player who sits four rows ahead of you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

His last name is Donaldson. You know because of the faded label on the massive bag he throws on the floor every time he walks into class, at least ten minutes late with a backward Stanford Tennis cap on his head. His first name remains a mystery, partly because he never talks in class, and mainly because you’ve made no attempt to speak to him. You like to think it’s because you’re so focused on the curriculum.

Professor Wilson knows your name, though, since you’re in his office hours every Thursday at 11 A.M. In part because he gives out most of the answers to his homework, and because you just transferred to Stanford your last year and very desperately need a letter of recommendation for medical school. Hence why you agreed to tutor a student with lower than 60% in the class during one of your meetings. And why everyone in the class was staring at you right now.

“... first come first serve, so reach out to her sooner rather than later.”

You give a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room. Most people have looked away, back to their distraction of choice, but you meet eyes with the fluffy blonde-haired tennis player.

stanford library. wednesday, march fifth.

It’s 11 A.M., and you feel like your brain is about to explode if you look at another practice set.

“Hey”.

Your head whips around to the harsh whisper, only to be met with the blue-eyed mystery from your class. He has that large bag slung over his shoulder, with the end of a tennis racket peeking out of it. His hair is slightly stuck to his face, and his compression tee is slick to his chest like a second skin.

“Hi,” you whisper back. He smiles before tossing his bag on the floor and sitting in the chair across from you, either unaware of or completely ignoring the glares he’s receiving from the other students studying.

“You know,” he pulls out some kind of nutrition bar from his bag, unwrapping it and taking an aggressive bite, “for someone advertising their services, you’re pretty hard to find.”

“You’re in Mr. Wilson’s class, right?” you ask, hoping your subdued voice will remind him that he’s in a notoriously quiet place. He hums, pointing at you with his half-eaten snack.

“And I’m trying not to fail, but you didn’t leave your number anywhere in the classroom, and you bolt after every class. So how am I supposed to patronize your tutoring services…” he trails off, his volume the same level as when he walked in. You furrow your brows as he leans back into the chair.

“That’s when you say who you are.”

You feel a burn on the back of your neck as you tell him your name. He glances down towards the problem set you’ve nearly finished.

“How do you turn in any of those, I can’t get halfway through one of them.”

You pause for a moment before leaning slightly across the table to whisper:

“This new weird thing called studying. I think it just got approved by the CDC.”

“Very funny,” he shakes his head as reaches for your binder with your class schedule printed out on the front of it.

“Why are you taking so many bio classes?”

“Because I’m a biology major,” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re making this too easy for me,” you raise your hands in conceit.

“I have practice every day at five so you can tutor me for like an hour beforehand,” he says before standing up, crunching up the silver wrapper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. You scoff at his sentence.

“Well, thank you for so generously fitting me into your schedule,” you roll your eyes, turning the page in your textbook. He grins.

“Tell the coach you’re there for Art. They’ll let you through.”

stanford tennis courts. friday, march 7th.

It’s 4 PM, and the California sun is sweltering. Your shorts feel like they’ve become a part of your legs, and your bag feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. By the time you make it to the tennis courts Art is already on the green concrete, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down his face and chest. You hear his grunts as he sprints across the court, hitting the ball toward a slightly taller brunette with dangerously short red shorts. You watch them at the entrance for a few minutes, slightly entranced as the two play so seamlessly, as if they know every move the other person is going to make. You force your eyes away as you walk up the bleachers, stepping over leftover water bottles and chip bags to sit down and grab your notes from your backpack. It takes a couple more minutes for Art to notice you, yelling your name after he turns around to grab a ball his partner had hit particularly hard. You wave, and he says something you can’t hear to the brunette before the two of them jog across the courts and up the stands to where you are, blocking the sun as the two stand side by side.

“Who’s your friend?” you ask as you stuff the problem set you were working on in between the pages of your notebook.

“I’m Patrick,” he says, with a toothy smile and his ears poking out from under his hair. He has a bit more of a boyish charm to him than Art does, whose eyes are glued to his brunette counterpart.

“Are you in Mr. Wilson’s class too?”

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but Art speaks first, slightly pushing his friend with his shoulder as he says “He doesn’t go to Stanford, too busy being a tennis pro.”

Patrick rolls his eyes but his smile doesn’t leave his face. You notice how different this Art feels from the one in the library, how direct his playfulness is and how close he and Patrick stand together, their sweaty torsos nearly melding together.

Interesting.

“Like, Andre Agassi level pro?” you smile as the two of them laugh. Patrick raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and you can’t help but take a glance at the exposed skin just above his waistband.

“Sorry, he’s like the only tennis player I know.”

“No, no I’m taking that as a compliment that you think I’m on the level of Agassi. No takebacks if you see me play,” Patrick points at you.

“Will do,” you salute, turning over to Art.

“You ready to study?” you ask him as he makes a comically loud groan, his head falling back. Patrick laughs, reaching over to ruffle his friends hair.

“You do remember that’s why I’m here, right? Midterms are in two weeks.”

“I definitely have not forgotten that.” he says. You purse your lips just as Patrick’s eyes seem to light up.

“I’m staying at the Courtyard Hotel for the weekend. You two can come over and study, I need to review my last match anyway. Kill two birds with one stone,” Patrick suggests.

“Just studying?”

“Just studying,” Art says, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder. You glance between the two of them, trying to decipher the unspoken communication they seem to be doing. But you can’t crack it, so you shrug.

“Sure.”

“Let us finish this set, and then you’ll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?”

“Wow, what a privilege. Don’t take too long, it’s hell on Earth out here!” you yell the last part as Art jogs down the steps and back down towards the net. You look up once you realize that the sun is still being blocked, and Patrick is still standing in front of you.

“You ever play?” he grins, flipping the tennis racket in his hand.

“Tennis? God, no, that would not be a pretty sight. I’ll stick to what I’m good at,” you gesture to the books and notes in your lap. Patrick nods.

“If you ever want to learn, I could teach you sometime, you know if-” he’s cut off by Art yelling his name, and you both glance to see him with his hands on his hips.

“Go, don’t keep your boyfriend waiting,” you wave him off, and you swear you can see him blushing. Must have been the glare.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder as he runs toward Art.

courtyard hotel. saturday, march 8.

It’s 11 pm. There’s a cold shiver in the elevator as you wait to get to the fourth floor, your tennis shoes tapping against the floor as one hand plays with the handle of the pack of beer in your hand while the other crumples and re-crumples the piece of paper with the hotel room number Patrick scribbled on it.

what are you doing?

You don’t have time to think about the consequences of your actions as the robotic voice signals that you’re on the fourth floor, the elevator doors fluttering open. It’s like your feet have a mind of their own, as you find yourself almost mindlessly wandering through the hotel halls until you’re planted in front of room 4B. You raise your hand to knock on the door but before you can make contact with the wood it’s thrust open, and Patrick is standing behind it. His dark hair is slightly tousled around his face, his striped shirt unbuttoned and his black boxer briefs low on his waist. He’s smiling, that same big smile as before, but his face is a little flushed, a gentle pink hue touching his cheeks. The two of you don’t say anything for a few seconds, as if you were both testing to see who would concede first to acknowledge the other’s presence. You raise the pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in your right hand.

“I brought studying fuel.”

You were never good at waiting.

Patrick laughs before he moves slightly out of the way to allow you to walk into his room. It’s small, with a queen-sized bed and a tiny desk, and the A/C emits an odd rumbling sound as it smacks against the window. Clothes and scorecards are strewn across the floor, and the scent of cigarettes permeates the room. You place the alcohol on the floor before deciding to sit on the bed, kicking off your shoes as you cross your legs. Patrick seems to stall for a moment, smiling to himself before closing the door behind him. He doesn’t lock the door, but you didn’t notice.

“Art’s not here yet?” you ask, watching as Patrick walks over and tears open the cardboard case, cracking open a can. Taking a sip, he leans against the desk as he smiles.

“Art can be bad with time.”

“As I’ve noticed,” you reach your hand out to motion towards the drink and Patrick hands it to you, staring as you take a large sip.

“Well,” you wipe the side of your mouth, “I told him to bring the topics he wanted to study, so I guess we can’t do anything until he gets here.”

Patrick nods with a slight pout, his fingers playing with the pop tab of the can. “I guess we can’t.”

“How’s tennis… stuff,” you laugh as you finish the question, not sure of exactly what to say.

Patrick seems to tense a little at the mention of the sport, moving over to sit next to you on the bed. His knee grazes your leg and you feel a slight buzz at the contact as he takes the beer from your hand.

“I’m kinda fucking it up right now,” he says, and you furrow your brows.

“How? You were like, really good yesterday.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He hands you the beer and you finish it off, placing the empty can at the bottom of your feet.

“I’m good with Art. It feels so fucking natural and easy with him. But in my other matches, I don’t know. I just … can’t replicate it.”

You nudge him with your leg.

“Sounds like you two were made to play tennis together.”

He makes a noise of agreement, his hands slowly moving to ghost over your thigh.

“You and Art are pretty close?” you ask as he plays with the bottom hem of your shorts, but he doesn’t say anything. You take his silence as a yes.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

“Of Art?” he asks, almost incredulously. You shrug.

“Yeah, or jealous of the girls he’s with. Either or.”

Patrick sits on that for a few moments before smirking.

“What’s mine is mine, and what’s his is mine.”

You laugh at that, a real deep laugh, and Patrick giggles next to you, the both of you tipsy from the can of beer you finished. You reach over and put your hand on his flushed face, rubbing your hand across his cheek.

“What were you doing before I came?” you feel his face warm even more against your skin as you position yourself closer to him.

“Practicing- or, sorry, rereading my scorecards from my last match.”

You tutted as you moved your hand to the back of his neck, gently running your hands through his hair.

“You can tell me the truth, Patrick.”

He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before looking up at you as if to check if that was too much. Whatever your expression is gives him the confidence to move down to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“I think you know.”

You feel a pull in your lower stomach at his words, muffled by his mouth nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he sucks hard enough for you to put your hand around on his face at the pressure. Pulling his face up, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and his eyes glance toward your lips. You wanted to wait, to make him beg and plead for it, but your body seemingly pulled you forward as your pressed your mouth onto his.

You were really quite bad at waiting.

He tastes like tobacco and faintly of the fruit medley in the dining hall, and you sigh as his lips interlock with yours and his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you into him. The kiss gets messy and hard, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and into your mouth as you lift your leg to straddle Patrick, grinding into him. He whimpers into the kiss as his calloused hands drop down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand into your underwear. You grind just a little bit faster as his fingers press circles into your clit, covering your mouth with your hand as you moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he uses his other hand to guide your hips, and your move your hands down to tug firmly on his hair. You can feel your climax building, the pressure in your stomach getting closer and closer to taking you over the edge-

You both jump at the sound of the hotel room dor slamming shut. Art is standing there, in that damn backward cap and a Stanford tee shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing as you and Patrick sit up straight, him adjusting his crotch and you smooth down your shirt, avoiding his gaze. Finally, the silence is broken by Art laughing.

“Christ, I’m not the cops,” he slips out of his slides as he waltzes over and opens a can of beer, drinking about half of it in one go. You look at him, and at Patrick, and then back at him, not knowing what the hell you just got yourself into.

“You want to fuck him right?” Art asks, and you can’t help your small gasp at how easily he said that. You glance at Patrick, hoping he’ll know what to say, but he’s just staring at Art.

“I-um,”

“So, no one’s stopping you,” Art cuts you off, taking a final swig of his beer and moving to stand directly in front of you. You open your mouth to try and explain, but before you can talk Patrick’s mouth is on yours again, his hand roaming your body. His grip is firmer now, his fingertips digging into the side of your stomach. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt and you separate, breathless as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Patrick’s mouth moves down to your neck, then your collarbones, and then your chest as he reaches around to take of your bra, and you feel on fire from Art’s gaze across the room. As Patrick kisses down your stomach and yanks down your shorts, you turn over to meet Art’s eyes.

“Come here.”

Whatever resolve Art was holding onto crumbles as he quickly takes off his shirt and slips out of his Nike shorts, tossing his hat on the dresser. In a flash Art’s hands are on your neck, tilting your head around to kiss you as Patrick lifts up your hips so he can take off your underwear. Art’s lips are softer than Patrick’s but he kisses you a little bit harder, his hand cupping the base of your neck. Somehow, they both taste the same. You moan into Art’s mouth as you feel Patrick’s tongue swirl around your clit, rolling your hips into his mouth as Art’s cock presses into your back. It’s just so much so fast, and that familiar buzz starts to pool in your lower stomach.

“Look at him,” Art turns your head to Patrick and you look into his eyes as you cum, Art’s hands hold your head forward as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Patrick’s hands are digging into your hips as he stares up at you and Art. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, leaning against Art as Patrick leans back up, his mouth a few inches from yours.

“Who do you want first?

[qierxing]

Head empty just yandere Heartslabyul as your imperial harem members

yan!poly!Heartslabyul x Reader

tw/cw: dub//con, gender-neutral reader but referred with masculine terms, drugging, manipulation, implied somnophilia, political machinations

—

you were raised with the expectation that you would shoulder the crown and rule over your people, justly and fairly. because of that, by the time you were crowned, your mindset compared to others your age was mature beyond what was considered normal.

you would be lying if you weren't bitter. Although you've long accepted that no one else could be trusted to rule this land and its people, you often wondered what your life would be like if there were no etiquette lessons and sword practices consuming your childhood.

In the end, it's all foolish dreams. You sit on your glittering golden throne and watch apathetically as the imperial court cheers and raises a toast to the new royal blood.

You were prepared for the responsibilities of a monarch, but what you weren't prepared for was your vassals' obnoxious nagging.

Your kingdom's tradition and laws have long allowed for polygamy, and your previous ancestors were known for their large harems. That day, you finally learned why: to ensure that royal blood would still be carried on, no matter what.

it's distasteful to you. you try to ignore your vassals all talking your ears off about potential consorts and lovers. but it's only so long before you crack.

Riddle Rosehearts was the first one to be by your side.

Not by choice. Duchess Rosehearts was the one who brought up her darling son to your vassals first, who then presented him to you. You would've turned them away, if not for the boy's eyes. Something in those stormy gray eyes makes your heart ache. His mother clutches her son's shoulder in a vice like grip that goes far beyond parental worry. Perhaps he too knows what it feels like to have no control over his life. 

And so reluctantly, you let him join you as a consort. 

It's not bad. Rather, he's so intelligent and diligent that you often ask him for help and advice on the kingdom's affairs, knowing that his strictness with himself and others provides a valuable impartial view that you can hardly find anywhere else. Besides, even if he is too stiff and formal at times, you appreciate his aid in paperwork that threatens to drown you.

in fact, he's so dedicated to carrying out his duty, that you find him nearly unrobed on your bed. Seven above, that nearly gave you heart palpitations. As attractive as he is, you have no intention of forcing the boy to give up his virginity against his will, even if he is married to you. 

you explain this to him as patiently as you can, even when his face scrunches up in hurt and confusion, asking if he wasn't enough–but you shut that down immediately. He is more than enough, and he isn't obligated to do anything he doesn't want to, even if his mother taught him otherwise. the revelation shakes his mind, causing his walls and views to crumble before him in the following days. you would like to think he became less stiff as he realized his true worth.

That is when an unexpected addition to your harem happened.

Actually, it was completely by accident. Your servants had often brought you various snacks and sweets during your work, as you were infamous for being extremely cranky without the motivation of good food. When Riddle, of all people, brings you a strawberry tart while you’re in the middle of some particularly grueling financial budget papers, it gives you pause.

It's not that you didn't trust him. It’s just…this is the boy who refused to eat more than the healthy amount of sugar. Even if you offered him various pastries and cookies, he always shunned them, saying it wouldn’t be right for him to consume them. 

So you spear a fork into the tart and bring it up to your mouth. When the bite meets your tongue, you swear your soul ascends to heaven. The taste is absolutely indescribable: the crust was flaky and light and the filling was sweet and creamy. This has got to be the best dessert you’ve ever tasted in your short life.

When you inquire Riddle about where he had gotten his hands on the tart, he shyly looks away from you and mumbles something under his breath. Not wanting to pressure him, you decide to let it go with a request to send your highest compliments to the patisserie. 

Since then, he is the one bringing you various treats, all unbelievably delicious tasting, each time you’re stuck among paperwork and meetings. You’re grateful, even if it does make you wonder who this mysterious patisserie is. You’re not particularly familiar with every kitchen staff member, but you would think that you would be aware of such talent residing in your walls. 

The truth finally comes to light when Riddle bursts into your office one day, in tears and hyperventilating, as he collapses in your arms. Alarmed, you quickly try to make sense of his babbling words. 

It turns out that the very patisserie wasn’t in your kitchens, as you thought. No, they were humble commoner folk who ran a modest bakery in the shopping district. Riddle had been secretly visiting the bakery whenever he had the time to buy their desserts and to visit his friend, the owner’s son. Problem is, his mother had found out and was furious that her son would debase himself and his reputation like that.

Trey Clover stands behind his parents with wide, frightened eyes as Duchess Rosehearts shrieks on about how she’ll shut down the establishment herself for daring to corrupt her son and so forth. It’s rather annoying that she would go this far in the name of parental love–thankfully she stops screaming once she catches sight of you. 

For once, you’re thankful for the absolute authority of imperial power. Duchess Rosehearts begrudgingly draws back when you block her attempt to defame the bakery. With a disappointed glare searing over the rest of you, she storms out of the bakery, door slamming shut behind her with a deafening crack.

You watch with mild interest as Riddle rushes forward and envelopes Trey in a tight hug that nearly knocks the tall man over. Despite the fact that Trey should be the one more distraught, he comforts Riddle with an ease that is almost suspiciously, dare you say, reminiscent of fondness. You look away before your thoughts dwell on it for too long.

Of course, it’s not all over. Trey’s parents kowtow at your feet with desperate gratitude, even if you beg them to stand up and raise their heads. As you glance over at Riddle in Trey’s arms, thoughts begin to arrange themselves into a proposal.

You and Riddle both know that Duchess Rosehearts would not stop here. Your presence was only a mere temporary hurdle in her plans to bring down Clover Patisserie, and there was no telling what she would do next. So, you propose something nearly unheard of to them.

Your vassals will throw an absolute fit if you openly sponsor their bakery and provide protection without something in exchange. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but this is the only way that Trey and his family would be safe. 

Surprisingly, he accepts the proposal with grace, becoming the second consort of your harem that very day. 

He inquires if there’s anything he should be aware of for his duties, making you laugh raucously and Riddle blush to the roots of his strawberry hair. You wave him off, telling him he only needs to do the things he loves and to bring you more of those tarts that cured your stress during your work times. The smile he gives is radiant and you wonder how it is that Riddle managed to find someone who makes the sun pale in comparison.

The next day, Riddle tells you between paperwork that he gifted Trey his own kitchen to bake and cook, and you nod in approval. It’s too easy to tease him over his obvious favoritism toward the baker, and it only makes you want to bully him more when his face becomes tomato red.

The annual royal banquet comes up and it dawns on both you and Riddle that Trey will have to present himself to the feral noble masses who are itching to know who this new addition is. The three of you are thrown into a hurricane of preparations, not just for the banquet, but to prepare poor Trey, who has never attended such an elite event, for the troubles ahead.

It’s certainly not for naught, you think, as you rake your eyes over your consorts. Their beauty outshines everything, in your personal opinion. When you make the introductory speech, you’re well aware that the audience in front of you is not just dazzled by you, but rather the two handsome men dutifully hovering behind you.

You hope that Riddle is enough of a buffer when the nobles inevitably swarm them with excited and curious eyes. As much as you would like to help, you were stuck with your own battles of greeting various guests and entertaining those who were trying to butter you up.

The Diamond family catches your eye first. 

It wasn't something positive, per say. But it is quite hilarious as the Marquis introduces you to his family: his wife, his two elder daughters and his only heir and son–only to find the aforementioned son missing. He’s left stuttering in shame even if you don’t particularly mind. It would’ve just been another boring greeting, but at that moment, his eyes dilates in fear, and when you follow his gaze, you see why. 

Cater Diamond is currently flirting with Trey. And very openly, at that.

The sight should make you furious, and yet you nearly burst out laughing. How could there be anyone this daring? Surely the young man would know better than to try hitting on an imperial escort–if he was aware that is, of the man being one. 

You decide to be the merciful mediator, because Riddle is nearly about to blow a gasket by Trey’s side and Trey looks like he’s too flustered to appropriately reject the advances of the eldest Diamond son. 

“Lord Diamond, I do believe your father is looking for you.” His face is full of surprise at the image of you grinning at him in amusement when you gently break the awkward atmosphere. 

After he leaves in a hurry, your two consorts apologize profusely for letting the flirtations happen. You reassure them that it was fine, that whatever they liked to do was not meant to be dictated under your actions. However, their faces still remain guilty and dismayed, as though you had reprimanded them instead.

The encounter remains in your mind as an entertaining memory. So much so, that when your vassals pester you again on adding another member to your harem, your mind immediately goes to sparkling jade green eyes and vivid orange hair.

If anything it was on a whim. Of course, you consulted both Trey and Riddle before sending the invitation, and they both agreed, even if Riddle looked much grumpier than usual. You hardly believed that the proposal would be answered favorably; after all, you’ve learned from recent gossip that Cater Diamond was a rather well known playboy. You doubt that kind of man would enjoy being tied to an imperial harem, even if it was under your lax control.

Perhaps that is why it’s so surprising that when he finally is in front of you, he acquiesces to your proposal with no hesitation at all. You ask in disbelief if he was sure of his decision, and he affirms it with no distaste in his voice. He notes your incredulous face, giving a cheeky grin in response.

Apparently he's been wanting to separate himself from his family for a while. The reason for his scandalous affairs were only attempts at getting his family to send him away, but he never succeeded. He says that your proposition finally gave him the freedom to be away from his family. While you don't want to pry further, it confuses you on how the Diamond family managed to raise such an eccentric young man.

Regardless, he becomes the third member of your harem. There were some small tensions between him and Riddle, but thankfully they resolved rather quicker than you expected–it seems that although Cater acted rather laid back, he has skills in organization and networking that even Riddle had to begrudgingly acknowledge. Ask him on the most recent gossip on the nobles and he's sure to provide you a list alphabetized on the latest trends around the capitol. Besides, it seems him and Trey get along quite well—too well, in a way. You don’t think you’ve seen a pair more prone to exchanging sensual, fleeting touches. Well, that’s not your problem.

You pray that nothing more eventful comes up in the meantime. Trey could only supply you with so much cake and cookies before you simply keeled over from sugar intake.

It seems the Seven were not on your side.

The Knights' jousting tournament was something that slipped your mind. When it gets brought up on the agenda in a meeting you silently curse. In the racket of you ascending to the throne and tending to your harem, you had neglected a big aspect to your royal life.

Personal guards. Normally, you should've had personally assigned soldiers that would accompany you for protection, but you've kept putting it off since you were able to protect yourself just fine with your abilities. And hiring new people, for any reason, was always going to be a long chore of vetting, paperwork, and tests.

The worst part is that Riddle and Trey joined in on the nagging. Going on about how they worried for your safety as if you weren't already trained in self defense and swordplay since your childhood days. Cater just shrugs when you look at him desperately for help and winks while running off to who knows where. Traitor.

Whatever. The sooner you pick, the sooner they'll get off your back.

Somehow this year's tournament is rather disappointing. Your three consorts give commentary throughout the matches, but it cannot stop the boredom starting to overtake you. Trey discreetly offers you a cup of wine and you take it gratefully.

The announcer signals the start of a match, with Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade taking a stand against each other. You hear Riddle faintly murmuring to your side about how they look rather young to be in a tournament like this. But you're rather absorbed in their intense fight, to the point where Cater teases you, asking if your taste included younger men. you roll your eyes and tell him to be quiet.

The fight ends in a spine tingling draw. Both men have their swords knocked out of their hands, but they’re still glaring at each other with such raw passion, that it’s fascinating. You know you will hardly meet any others that could catch your attention.

The end of the tournament ends with the roar of the crowd shaking the colosseum and the boisterous victory announcement. The two of them weren’t finalists, but that matters little to you. The victor was impressive. But they weren’t what you wanted.

“Ace Trappola, at your service, your majesty.”

“Deuce Spade, at your command, your majesty!”

The two greet you with enthusiastic fervor that has you chuckling in amusement. They are just the breath of fresh air you need. 

“Starting from today, you two will be my personal guards.”

They’re left with gaping mouths at your bold statement. Your consorts, too, are sputtering at your side. Riddle is already trying to convince you to reconsider. Trey is gently trying to ask if you’re really sure about this. Even Cater, for all his light-hearted banter, chokes an incredulous scoff, covering his mouth with a fist.

Yes, there’s always the threat of treason, and they might be slackers, but if you were going to have to employ someone, you’d rather it be someone entertaining. 

Regardless, the two are knighted and become your guards in record time. 

For several days, a persistent headache haunts you with how much Ace loved riling up Riddle for no reason, or Deuce somehow managing to blunder his way into destroying several pieces of priceless antique furniture. It takes only two days for Riddle to kneel at your side, begging you to please just switch guards, these two were ridiculously incompetent and not worthy to serve under you, but you only pat his head and send him off back to his chambers to rest. 

Trey and Cater were arguably more agreeable, but you don’t miss their tired looks whenever they had to clean up after Ace pissing off a passing noble or Deuce somehow causing a fire when tripping over an iron poker. It makes you feel guilty, of course, but you still cling on. Call it stubbornness but you didn’t want to let go of the two. It was selfish, you know, and monarchs could never afford to be selfish, but was it so wrong for you to indulge in the only pair who seemed to disregard your status?

The answer came one hot summer evening, when you’re on your balcony trying to unwind. Tonight was the usual designated night to share a bed with your consorts, but you deigned to postpone it since you weren’t in the mood nor did you want to force the other three to deal with your sour attitude. It’s halfway through your third glass of wine that you were a rustle, then after starting your fourth, you hear footsteps, to which you turn and just narrowly miss a dagger aiming for your heart. The blade instead rips a gash through your left shoulder, causing you to grunt in pain, alcohol thankfully dulling most of the throbbing sensations. Unfortunately, your mind is hardly clear enough to have a steady stance to fight back properly, let alone see the assassin’s face. 

You can’t believe you were going to die pathetically like this. If this was going to happen anyway, you should’ve at least finished your glass of wine—

Shouts, then sounds of clanging steel, and a blur rushed into your sight, tackling the hooded assassin and knocking him down. Deuce’s familiar blue hair registers in your blurry vision, holding down the assassin, while Ace’s flaming hair and eyes come closer in view, shouting something that keeps fizzling out to nothing. Your world tilts to its side suddenly, a loud buzzing in your ears, and everything goes black.

When you come to, you find Riddle with swollen, tear-crusted eyes hugging your bedsheets, while Trey exhaustedly sits behind him next to a wash basin and several empty vials. Cater was out cold on the chaise beside him, several papers littering his body. It seems that the assassin was quite thorough, as they made sure that if their sharp blade didn’t manage to end your life, then the quick acting poison laced upon the steel would. Ironically, according to the herbalist and doctor, because you drank a whole wine bottle, the alcohol managed to slow it down somehow just long enough for you to get treatment. A miracle, indeed.

For once, the room is no longer filled with tension with all five of the men together, but a genuine sense of relief. You give the two of your knights soft smiles and a sincere thank you which makes their faces flush like a ripe strawberry. Your escorts don’t protest, mirroring the same gratefulness in their faces. 

Something changes after that night. 

Of course, you’re extremely glad that Riddle is no longer blowing his top off after Ace goads him about being a stick in the mud, but since when did Ace get into pet names with Riddle? Rosebud? The nickname makes you gag internally at how corny it is. Not to mention that Riddle…doesn’t mind being called that?! You watch in disbelief as he preens at the compliment from your knight, trying not to give away your incredulousness. 

Okay…whatever, at least they’re getting along? 

Deuce shows up with your slice of cake with a beaming glow that has you taken aback as you accept the offering. Ace mutters about how Trey must’ve spoiled him again behind you and it takes everything inside you to not spit out your cake mid-bite. Again? Trey was kind, you’ll give him that, and he did tend to baby Riddle and you but—

On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t out of left field.

Cater titters knowingly when you slump in bonelessly into the lounge next to him trying on new earrings and bangles. 

“And what ails my dearly beloved king?” You choke on your spit before glaring at him. He giggles, dangly silver drops chiming in tune with the laughter. 

“Not you too…” It felt like the whole day you felt like you were background to some of the most insufferable flirting, and with your escorts and knights, no less. You raise an eyebrow at the shiny, glittering jewelry scattered on the vanity in front of the man. All imperial escorts did have an allowance, but you don’t remember Cater buying anything like this nor gifting him such things. When you inquire about it, Cater gives you a smirk and a wink.

”Rido and the younger ones have been quite sweet lately.” The sentence makes you nearly fall off the lounge. He chortles and blows you a mock kiss with no shame as you sear him with another heated glare. 

The way they started interacting starts making you feel self-conscious and…embarrassingly enough, left out. Which is such a foolish thought. Of course, who would in their right mind love the person who tied their lives to them, romantically and sexually? And even though they were in such a situation, the fact they all loved each other was a blessing, wasn’t it? How many history lessons did you have where the monarch’s harem wasn’t full of in-fighting? That meant more prosperity and stability political wise, and there wouldn’t be any trouble between you…

Yet, your heart clenches at the thought of Trey’s smile directed at Cater, of Riddle gently caressing Deuce’s head, and Ace slinging an arm around Deuce…none of that affection could ever be for you. 

And it’s best that way. Your father’s voice echoes distantly in your mind. You watched him solemnly on his deathbed as he implored you to not make the same mistakes he did, before his breathing stilled, and his hand lay limp in yours.

Yes, perhaps it was better this way. 

Still, your thoughts are still wandering that you barely jolt back to present to a cabinet meeting looking expectantly at you. 

“Pardon, could you repeat that?”

Riddle watches in worry as a dark shadow crosses your face as the demand for your harem to grow is conveyed. He coughs, causing the members to turn to him instead.

”If that’s the case,” he states with no hesitation, “then I might have some candidates in mind.”

You turn to him with the same expression as the other cabinet members. It drops to shock at Riddle’s suggestion.

As much as you wanted to oppose it, there wasn’t really a good reason to. You sat with your arms crossed as Riddle explained the proposal to your very two personal knights. Ace and Deuce exchange looks, and something between them is communicated before they turn to you and accept, despite your hope they wouldn’t.

And so, your harem became five.

You put your foot down after that. It was already enough to have your heart cracked into pieces with the knowledge you could never have their love. You don’t think it could handle another.

So you tuck your heart away as you smile with them over dinner, bantering over whether flamingos can play croquet or dancing with them at various balls, heart racing as the chandelier lit their face with a warmth you’ve never seen before. If it means you won’t get hurt or distracted, then that’s all you could ask for.

One fateful day, a letter out of numerous piles is hand delivered by Cater and changes your entire world.

It’s sealed with the crest of the fairest queen in the seven realms, meaning only one person could have sent this—Vil Schoenheit. Inside the elegant letter details a marriage proposal that listed all the benefits of taking him as a spouse. With all the pros listed out so cleanly, it was clear that the queen already knew that you couldn’t reject it so quickly.

But you must dissolve your harem. I do not take kindly to those who are not loyal to me and me only.

Something in your heart cracks at reading the condition. You should feel elated, somewhat, that you no longer had to drag around escorts for formality. And for the others, it meant being freed from a duty they were all forced into. But tears threaten to bubble over your eyelashes, and when Riddle asks you if you’re alright, one manages to overflow and trail down your cheek like a traitorous banner. 

You don’t want to let them go.

Trey asks for the nth time if you’re sure you don’t want him to be with you or if you want some tea before you shoo him away. Ace and Deuce were meant to guard your chambers, but you wave them off too, saying you’ll find stand-ins for their places. Riddle and Cater were harder to shake off, but even they, too, were finally shut out when you closed your bedroom doors in their worried faces.

In the end, like a coward, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them what that letter was, despite them asking nonstop about it. You’re not sure what to tell them either—that they were being discarded of their positions, no longer needed, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness—oh, who would even believe you?

When Vil graces your halls, the looks your escorts give you is enough to fill you with burning hot shame. 

Cater doesn’t have his usual mischievous smile when he greets the queen, his emerald eyes sharpening to pin pricks whenever Vil speaks. You should’ve scolded him, reigned him back, but the guilt eating away at you made you hesitate. It didn’t help that Riddle, for all his perfect etiquette, suddenly seemed to forget what formalities and niceties were around the queen. The regal queen gives you a strange look as Trey sets down a plate of pastries a little too hard in front of him. Your gaze darts away as you sip the tea in front of you nervously, flanked by Ace and Deuce, their scowling faces too apparent.

They’re not dumb. Royals don’t visit other realms willy-nilly often. And it’s clear what Vil is here for.

The next day leaves you lethargic and sluggish, but you try to pull through, if only for appearances. While you stroll through the gardens with Vil, you try to avoid the burning stares of your guards behind you, no doubt dissecting each and every bit of your conversation with the queen. They pull you away as soon as the clock hits the afternoon hour, stating you had duties to attend to and so on and so forth. You excuse yourself and hope you don’t look like a mess to Vil, whose appearance is still immaculate despite the heavy winds and hot sun.

You try to focus on the stack of papers in front of you, despite the edges of your vision blurring and your head spinning. Taking the last sip of what remained of your tea, you squint uselessly at the words as Riddle murmurs something to your right about dinner and farewell banquets. The last thing you remember is the smell of chamomile and poppy flowers and the last document regarding international treaties. 

By the time you wake up from your ill-timed nap, it was midnight and it had been decided that you were too unwell to properly receive the fairest queen, and thus Vil would be sent back, to come back another time. Cater explains with a tight smile while Riddle nods along. Behind them, Trey pours another cup of warm milk and offers it to you with a sympathetic smile. You take it, despite the guilt threatening to swallow you alive. 

The days following are a haze of routines that you thought you once knew but couldn’t process. Nothing had changed, right? It seemed like you couldn’t recall what Trey made for you for yesterday’s tea, nor whenever Cater asked you for an opinion on his outfit. Before, you remembered the guards’ shifts to the letter, and yet, you completely forgot when Ace took over to guard you. Riddle smiles at you like usual, helping you with paperwork as usual, and yet…why couldn’t you remember what you had signed yourself?

Some nights you wake up to Trey or Cater, running their hands over you, despite the fact that they weren’t there before when you went to bed. Sometimes, it would be Ace and Deuce, bickering in hushed whispers before they shut up seeing you awake. And every time morning came and soreness set in your body, Riddle would greet your groggy face warmly, wiping away sweat and a strange stickiness that clung to your skin. 

The thought of marriage is erased from your mind, and slowly, but surely, you can’t remember why you thought of breaking apart the men who treated you so fondly. 

Perhaps you should have heeded the tales of those who ended up being puppet kings.

[jewish-vents]

I went to the Jewish quarter in Toledo today and I really don’t know how to feel. I’m part Sephardi, my ancestors most likely lived here at some point. I went to the Beit Knesset they would have went to, the oldest one in Europe, I think— it’s a museum now. Part of the floor was clearly new, and part of the floor was clearly ancient. I took a picture of the ancient part, the part that my ancestors would have also stepped on. There was a cross right under the two orange windows representing the Ten Commandments that Moshe brought down, and right next to that there were Christian murals of baby angels. It was beautiful, but there was such a tangible sadness to it, deadness, almost, that I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. The non Jewish tourists didn’t notice it, and that made me even more uncomfortable

There was a gift shop right next to the Beit Knesset. They were selling menorahs, not chanukias, seven-pronged menorahs— and all I could think of was ‘who is this for? Not for the Jewish tourists who come here, obviously, menorahs are for Beitei Knesset, not for home. Who is this for?’ It felt wrong. Later on, I saw the exact same menorahs in a different shop, a street away. This isn’t Judaica— Judaica isn’t mass produced like that, normally it’s handmade. It’s made with love, with care, it’s made with a Jewish touch. None of the items in this gift shop have a Jewish touch to them. Feeling like I was selling out my people, I bought a couple magen David magnets from there anyway

The Jewish part of Toledo feels… I’m not sure how to say it, but it’s like a remnant. You can tell that there was something before this, but that something is gone, it’s been wiped out. And that something was Jewish. And now it just drifts through this town, like dust, never properly gone but never enough than a vague feeling. And on top of all of that is a thick layer of Catholicism, and the knowledge of the brutality that brought this Jewish cultural centre to decimation

Toledo doesn’t really acknowledge what it did to its Jews. There’s a small square on the wall of a very old house, one that most certainly used to belong to a Jew before, that talks about Shmuel Levi, saying how he would rather have died by torture than become a confessor— they call him Samuel there, though, and I feel kind of stupid for how much I resent that. But that’s it. Instead they’re giving museum tours of the two Beite Knesset that used to exist before they were converted to being churches, and then war rooms, and now attractions. They’re selling Judaica that isn’t Judaica, right next to figures of Yeshu bleeding out on the cross. They’ve got small חי tiles on the corners of the street, but all I can think of is the Jews that were slaughtered in this town by the ancestors of the people who are now living in what were their houses

All I can think of is the pork being sold everywhere, and all the chametz people are eating before the sun sets on the last day of pesach

(sorry for the pretentious poetic language, I’m a writer I can’t help it)

Thank you for sharing this. There is something almost haunting about visiting places that were once Jewish but aren't anymore. I once saw a quote somewhere about how Memory is a sixth sense for Jewish people (I don't remember where I saw it but will try to find it again). Reading this reminded me of that.

I don't have many words of comfort. I actually don't live that far from Toledo. Our shul is tiny, but we have a kosher Torah from the time of the Inquisition. We outlived them.

-🐺

[beskarandblasters]

Illicit Affairs

Part One of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two hundred year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: unspecified age gap, infidelity, reader is able-bodied and wears a skirt, workplace romance, secret mutual pining, fingering, one pussy slap, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, pet names (sweetheart), no use of y/n

A new beginning. A foot in the door in the industry you’ve been dying to get into– Hollywood. You’re California Crest Studios' newest production assistant and you get to work on the upcoming movie, The Man From Deadhorse. Although you’re not typically a fan of Westerns, you’re grateful for any experience you can get. 

You’re hiding in the bathroom, killing time until production starts after getting to the studio rather early; LA traffic is unpredictable and your anxiety got the best of you this morning. You make sure your makeup is perfect and smooth down your skirt before walking to the soundstage. California Crest Studios is huge. It’s going to take forever to get used to not only the layout but also the hustle and bustle of a living, breathing set. 

The soundstage is overwhelming to put it plainly. Everyone’s talking in pockets of well-established groups and you feel like an outsider looking in, trying desperately to look like you belong here. You search the room for a familiar face but there are so many people around it’s overwhelming. You met the director, Emil, at your interview but other than him, everyone here is a stranger. 

Are you supposed to interrupt a conversation and ask what you’re supposed to do? Are you supposed to wait until you’re addressed? Are you supposed to–

“First day on set?” 

You look to your left and find a man, stunning you with his bright smile. One look at his attire tells you he’s in costume, donning a blue shirt with gold fringe. He must be an extra or something. Whoever he is, you can’t deny that he’s devilishly handsome, could even be considered leading man type of handsome. 

“That obvious, huh?”

He chuckles, placing his hands on his hips. “You’ll get the hang of it. Are you one of Emil’s new assistants?”

“I am,” you sigh, “I’m not sure where he is, though.”

“I’ll go find him for you,” he smiles, walking away before you can protest. Fuck, you’re not trying to bring any unnecessary attention to yourself. Not on your first day.

The man disappears within the pocket of people and eventually returns with Emil. He greets you with a smile and says, “Welcome to your first day on set! I see you’ve met Cooper, our leading man.”

He continues to talk but it turns into white noise. Your mind is too focused on the words: leading man. 

You vaguely hear Emil talk about what his expectations of you are, but he finishes with “For now you can just go to the studio’s cafe and get us coffee.”

Sigh. Comes with the territory you suppose. 

He goes to grab you a pen and paper, leaving you alone with Cooper. You awkwardly shift your weight between your feet, wanting desperately to make conversation with him but fearing that you’ll just annoy him. 

“Don’t be so nervous,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“I never caught your name.”

You introduce yourself and he does the same, adding, “But I suppose Emil already did that for me.” 

He chuckles and extends his hand out, you shake his hand and determine he has a nice firm handshake. The kind where you can just tell he’s a confident man. 

Emil returns with a pad and a pen and immediately starts shooting off coffee orders for him and some of the other people on set. 

“By the end of this week, you won’t need to jot these down. You’ll have them all memorized.”

“Is that a challenge?” you ask playfully. 

He laughs and says, “Sounds like you’ll fit in here,” before walking back into the set. 

You turn towards Cooper and ask, “And what about you, Mr. Howard?” ready to take down his order. 

“Please, Miss, call me Cooper. I’ll just have a black coffee.”

“You got it, Cooper,” you smile before familiarizing yourself with the set and crew, taking down everyone’s coffee orders before heading to the studio cafe. 

You walk back to the soundstage with a large paper bag in hand, walking extra carefully to ensure the copious cups of coffee don’t spill. It’s already been an eventful morning but your mind keeps circling back to Cooper Howard. The first person you met on set, the first person to show you an act of kindness. You’re practically swooning over him. 

A small part of you wants to believe that he was flirting with you. But you quickly push that out of your mind. He’s an actor. He’s naturally charismatic. And besides, he wouldn’t want anything to do with a production assistant for fuck’s sake. 

You pass out everyone’s coffee back at the soundstage, surprised by just how nice most of the crew are. Of course, some people couldn’t be bothered to give you the time of day. To them, you’re someone who’s at the bottom of the barrel, someone they don’t have to treat with respect. 

As for Cooper… God, he knows how to make you feel special, graciously accepting his coffee and thanking you up and down. But quickly enough it’s time to shoot and you’re tasked with making sure no one accidentally walks into the shot. It seems easy enough. For the most part, you just watch Cooper act and find yourself captivated by him. You’re not typically into Westerns but he has such a commanding aura about him that’s impossible to ignore. 

After a few hours, the crew breaks for lunch. You learn lunch is catered most days which is nice. But now you’re in the first-day predicament where you must decide if you’re going to eat alone or encroach on an already established group. 

You sit on the concrete with your legs straight out in front of you, eating the lunch you packed. All around you groups of people socialize and chatter. You can only hope that one day you’ll have your own group like this on set. As you’re about to take a bite of your sandwich, a voice above you asks, “Need a lunch buddy?”

You can tell just by his voice that it’s Cooper. But you can’t help but wonder… Why does he want to have lunch with you? 

Doesn’t he have friends? Or even… a girlfriend? A wife? 

“Sure,” you smile, scooching over so he can sit next to you. 

“How’s your first day going so far?” 

“Not bad. I’m sure I’ll get the flow of everything soon.”

“You’ll be a natural in no time. I’m sure of it.” 

“Thanks,” you respond, starting to soften up. “What about you? How long have you been an actor?” 

“Quite a while now. But I wasn’t always an actor. I was in the Marines before.” 

You thank him for your service and it falls silent between you two. You assume this is where the conversation ends but to your surprise, he says, “Enough about me. Tell me about yourself.” 

You share more details of your background, telling him things that range from where you went to college, what your family’s like, and where you grew up. He listens with such care and respect, occasionally nodding along. You didn’t expect to make any friends on your first day, let alone with the leading man. And yet here he is, listening to your stories as if you’re the most interesting person in the world. 

Except it’s ripped away from you too soon. 

Just as the conversation hits a lull again, someone catches his attention. He gets up and walks away, to a beautiful woman standing by the food table. Your heart sinks. You knew it was too good to be true. 

Hang on. She could be a studio executive. She could be a coworker, a fellow actress even. 

But the way he kisses and pulls her close tells you otherwise. You watch them interact, hopefully in a way that’s not painfully obvious as you finish your lunch. He caresses her face, listening to her talk in a way that reminds you of how he listened to you. You should’ve known better. He’s just naturally charismatic. He’s an actor for crying out loud. It was staring you right in the face. 

They kiss goodbye and part ways. You look away and pretend to pack up your lunch. He stands before you and says, “Sorry, that was my wife. I should’ve introduced you two. That was rude of me.”

“No worries,” you smile.

He offers you his hand and helps you up, smiling at you again as he says, “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

You nod and notice he’s still holding your hand. He squeezes it before he lets go, making your stomach do a flip. God, he gives you whiplash. 

-

The workday wraps up rather uneventfully. And you’re left feeling exhausted, wondering how long it’ll take your body to get used to this new schedule. 

Before you leave for the day Cooper places a hand on your shoulder; he’s out of costume, wearing a white t-shirt that’s a little too tight around his biceps, with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

He looks you in the eye, telling you, “Good job today. Glad to have you on board.” He smiles at you again and tells you good night before walking to his car and driving off. 

You sit in your car and mentally talk yourself down, reminding yourself that he probably just does this with all the new hires, that he’s just a nice guy. But most importantly, he’s married. He’s off-limits. And before lunches together become a regular thing, you’re going to stop it while you can. 

You’re going to try your hardest to not fall for Cooper Howard. 

-

It’s the end of your first workweek and lunches alone have already proved to be a failure. Every time you tried to sneak away to your car or the studio cafe, Cooper would catch you and ask, “Mind if I join you?”

How could you ever try to say no to him? How could you ever deny yourself alone time with him? Your gut would swirl with guilt. But you never understood why. The act of getting lunch together is inherently innocent. You know he views it that way. But why can’t you? Until Friday night when you finally place your finger on why… 

It’s because the more he opens up, the more you learn about him, you can’t help but fall for him harder. He told you about his childhood, his time in the Marines, how he was honorably discharged, and most importantly, his daughter. 

If he wasn’t already off-limits before, he most certainly is now. 

-

You spend your weekend thinking about him whenever your mind is idle. You’re treading into dangerous waters now. This is more than a silly workplace crush. This is full-on infatuation now. When you’re alone in bed, your hand slips down your pants, teasing your entrance as you close your eyes, picturing that Cooper’s above you, playing with your body. The fantasies are dangerous, feeling entirely too real. Even though you don’t know what it’s like to be pleasured by him, your imagination runs wild. You moan his name, thankful that you live alone for once. But once the self-induced orgasm subsides you’re left with guilt. And you’re conflicted about that guilt. You’re picturing these things that have never happened, that will never happen. What’s the harm in that? And yet, your kind keeps circling back to the unfortunate reality; he’s married. The guilt doesn’t seem to go away. 

Sunday night rolls around and as you go to bed, you remind yourself that you need to be better about distancing yourself. Hopefully, you’ll listen for once. 

-

No lunch together on Monday.

The same goes for Tuesday. 

You managed to get to your car in time on Wednesday. 

The week is just about halfway over and you’d consider it a success. 

But as you walk to your car on this warm night, he catches you off guard. 

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you respond, startled a bit.

“I don’t mean to bother you but I can’t help but wonder… Did I do something wrong?”

You glance at your surroundings, trying to gauge who’s near before you speak. He picks up on your nervousness and says, “We can talk somewhere private if that’s easier.”

“Sure,” you choke out, feeling the adrenaline already start to course through your body.

You awkwardly walk side by side to his trailer, both of you stiff as a board. Thankfully, most if not everyone has gone home for the night. But you can’t help but wonder if there’s someone around catching a glimpse at the star Cooper Howard, inviting a young production assistant to his trailer. 

It isn’t until you’re behind closed doors do you actually relax, but not by much. He sits you down on the sofa in his trailer, telling you to take your time as you awkwardly twiddle your thumbs. 

“You didn’t… do anything to upset me.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sighs. “But it doesn’t explain why you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I…” you trail off. “It was to get my feelings to go away.”

God, you can’t believe you just said that. 

“...Feelings?”

You put your head in your hands and feel your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment. That was a terrible idea. Your job that’s barely two weeks old flashes before your eyes. You picture him telling his wife, laughing about the silly girl who thought she could take her man. 

He places a hand on your back, rubbing it softly and catching you off guard. 

“Someone’s got a little crush, huh?”

“I know. I know. It’s embarrassing,” you sigh, trying your hardest not to cry. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. Can I tell you a secret?”

You barely heard what he said after sweetheart. Your ears are ringing with white noise but you can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a crush, too.”

“Oh yeah?” you scoff. “And who might that be?”

“I’ll give you a hint. She’s sittin’ in my trailer right now.”

You look at him with a bewildered expression on your face and say, “You’re joking.”

His face is impossibly close to yours. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die, sweetheart.”

“But-”

You’re cut off with a kiss, warm and inviting. It tastes like the cinnamon gum you noticed that he chews after each meal. You’re startled at first before you melt into the kiss. His hands envelop your face, keeping you close. But it’s not close enough. You want more. You need more. 

You move into his lap, straddling him and being sure to never break the kiss. His hands move from your face to your waist, holding onto you for dear life. You roll your hips into him and feel a bulge grow in his pants. You can’t believe your mind. You weren’t imagining it. There was something there all along. 

It doesn’t take long for his hands to migrate to your skirt, lifting it before he squeezes your ass, moaning into the kiss before pulling away and cursing under his breath. 

“Underwear off. Now,” he commands. 

You happily oblige, pulling yourself off him to remove your underwear before you straddle him again. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them before playing with your entrance. You lean forward to kiss him again but he stops you, grabbing your chin with his other hand.

“Not so fast. Tell me, when did this crush start?”

“The day we met,” you say in between labored breaths as he teases you. 

“Oh yeah? What was going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“Well, at first I thought you were an extra,” you smirk. 

“You did not,” he says.

“Oh yes, I did.”

“Guess I went from some extra to the man you can’t seem to forget about real quick, huh?” he says.

But before you can answer he slaps your pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

“Stop teasing me already,” you plead.

“Are you whining?”

“Fuck… Yes.”

“Naughty girl.”

He finally gives in, plunging one finger inside of your already dripping cunt. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“So wet for me already,” he teases, curling his finger against your walls. 

You place your hands on his shoulders as you roll your hips into him. He watches the physical evidence of your pleasure– your slack jaw, your wide eyes, your chest rising and falling, your cute gasps and moans. All thanks to him. 

He adds a second finger and tells you, “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You rock your hips back and forth, feeling his fingers push against your g-spot. Your pleasure comes to a head, the floodgates threaten to burst. He can sense it, too, the way your walls tense up around his fingers. 

“Gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you choke out.

“Let me feel it,” he commands. 

With one last movement of your hips, you cum around his fingers. Your moans fill his trailer but you do your best to bite them back, unsure of who’s lurking outside. Your wetness seeps out of you and runs down his hand, coating your inner thighs in the process. His pupils are wide, looking at you with all of the lust in the world. 

When you’re done coming down from your high, he coaxes you down on your back, thighs spread wide apart. He can’t get his cock out of his pants fast enough, hovering over you as he spreads your wetness on it with a few strokes.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praises, leaning down and pressing kisses along your jawline. All you can do is moan in response, aching for his cock to be inside you already. He slowly thrusts himself inside you and you grip onto his shirt for purchase. A deep moan gets caught in your throat, coming out as a choked-up sob as he draws his hips back and slams into you. He trails kisses from your jawline to your earlobe and down your neck while he repeatedly slams in and out of you. 

“Takin’ my cock like such an angel,” he mutters, nipping at your skin. 

Your second orgasm of the night is imminent, teetering on the edge as his cock hits the most perfect angles inside you. He props himself up on his hand, placing them by either side of your hand. He wants to watch your face as you cum on his cock. And when you do it nearly pulls his own orgasm from him, feeling your warmth clench and release his cock. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes due to the intense high you’re feeling. He watches as the pretty little moans slip past your lips. 

He pulls out and rests on the back of his heels, letting his cum coat your stomach. He cums with a deep groan, sweat glistening on his forehead. The only sound in the trailer is your labored breaths, both of you coming down from your respective highs. He leans forward and grabs a box of tissues on the side table and cleans up the mess he just made before putting his cock away. 

You reach for your underwear and stand up with shaky legs, looking at him as if you’re unsure if you should stay or go because the truth is, you don’t know what to do. At all.

“Should I…?”

He pats on the couch and says, “You don’t have to go just yet.”

You smooth down your skirt and notice a cum stain he left and suddenly feel sick to your stomach. You gingerly sit beside him, keeping your posture tight and controlled as he looks at you. He notices it right away. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine. Just intimidated I guess?”

“You can’t possibly be intimidated by me after that,” he chuckles. But then he adds, “Here, let me try to calm you down. Do you want to know what I thought of you when I first saw you?”

You turn towards him and say, “Sure.”

“I thought you were absolutely beautiful. Still do.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. But I also thought you seemed nervous.”

“I was.”

“But then I thought… What is she doing paying attention to me?”

“I could say the same for you,” you smile.

He leans in closer and kisses you again, hands enveloping your face once more. His breath is warm and his skin is slick with sweat. But you also realize… he smells like you and you wonder how he’s going to explain that to his wife. 

He pulls away and glances at the clock on the wall. 

“We should probably go. Gotta be here early tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Should we go separately?”

“No need. There’s no one here this late.”

“You do this often?” you joke.

“No. Never,” he says nervously. 

He opens the door and starts leading you back to the parking lot. He was right. The studio’s dead at this hour. The tension hangs heavy in the air and an awkward silence falls between you two. 

“You know… I’m not going to tell anyone,” you say, not looking at him.

“Thank you,” he says in a small voice. 

Once you’re back at your car, you can’t help but ask him, “So… What are you going to tell her?”

“I’ll just tell her a shoot ran late. It happens here and there.”

“Okay,” you nod, starting to get in your car. You secretly hope he’ll kiss you good night but in your heart, you know he won’t. 

And you were right. He doesn’t. 

“Good night,” he whispers.

“Good night,” you whisper back before he walks back to his car. 

While you’re left alone, reeling from what just happened. A strange feeling swirls around inside you. But you’re not quite sure if it’s a sense of achievement or regret. 

End note: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment or shoot me an ask!!

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Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit

[elspethdekarios]

Gale as an archmage

I've been thinking about this for a while. If you select Gale as an origin character in the character creator and play his intro, he introduces himself as Gale of Waterdeep™ he immediately follows with "please - no need to be intimidated."

Now I think we initially brush this statement off as Gale being full of himself, but the first time you talk to him and ask him to tell you about himself, there's an option to say something like "Come on, you must have stories from your time as archmage."

And I've always wondered - how would tav know this? Gale hasn't mentioned it. Which leads me to my research question:

Is Gale famous?

Not Elminster-famous, of course, but is he THE archmage of Waterdeep, known throughout the Realms? Is Gale of Waterdeep a legitimate title, not just one he decided to use because it sounds important?

Maybe all of this is common knowledge in DnD lore, but it's a fairly new world to me. Here's what I found about archmages:

From the Forgotten Realms fandom wiki (https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Archmage):

Archmages were among the most powerful arcane spellcasters found throughout all of Faerûn. These practitioners of the Art were experts at manipulating and altering their spells, often in strange ways. Many cities across Faerûn had a single archmage who dedicated themselves to serve that settlement and its people. Some notable cities included Lyrabar in Impiltur, and the great western metropolis of Waterdeep. The term "archmage" was often used to refer to spellcasters who took on leadership roles among similarly-inclined practitioners of The Art. In the drow city of Menzoberranzan, the head of the arcane academy known as Sorcere was granted the title, Archmage of Menzoberranzan.

So, to summarize, archmages are super powerful, big cities often have a singular, dedicated archmage, and they take on leadership roles in the city, sometimes (or at least once) being deemed THE archmage of the city.

I've already seen posts about the insane amount of power held by archmages, so I'm not really going to go into that. I'm just interested in how well-known Gale would be in the Realms. One issue I'm running into while researching is that many people seem to approach the archmage in terms of DnD stats (spell levels, player levels, etc) rather than from a storytelling perspective.

I can't find much else specifically on how widely known archmages would be. There is a list of archmages on the Forgotten Realms wiki, but Gale isn't included on it. I'm assuming maybe BG3 lore is considered an off-shoot of FR lore and therefore not necessarily canon? Let me know if I'm wrong about this.

So that leaves me with message board responses. Here are some notable ones:

An old candlekeep.com forum on the differences between the titles used by magic users. Several users seem to agree with this person.

From the same thread as above.

Interestingly, DnD beyond has archmage categorized as a monster. I'm not sure if this applies only to evil-aligned mages or not, so anyone with more familiarity, feel free to chime in. Anyway, here's what DnD beyond says:

"Archmages are powerful (and usually quite old) spellcasters dedicated to the study of the arcane arts. Benevolent ones counsel kings and queens, while evil ones rule as tyrants and pursue lichdom. Those who are neither good nor evil sequester themselves in remote towers to practice their magic without interruption. An archmage typically has one or more apprentice mages, and an archmage's abode has numerous magical wards and guardians to discourage interlopers."

Gale does mention having students/apprentices at some point (he says something about being impatient with them if I remember correctly, but I can't remember when he actually says it), and, if he's Professor Gale in the epilogue, you're told that an apprentice delivered the invite to the party.

I also find it interesting that archmages typically have wards around their home to keep out intruders, implying that they're well-known enough to have people regularly trying to break into their home?? Or at least has happened enough times to warrant protection.

I also appreciate this reddit comment on a thread asking about the rarity of archmages:

This lead me to a super interesting reddit post which I really suggest you check out if you're interested. The OP breaks down the percentages of each class and level and translates that to city populations. I'm bad at math so that may be a horrible explanation. Anyway, here's a chart that they made:

I have been trying my hardest to put the alt text on the images for accessibility but I have no idea how that would work with this chart. I did include the text at the bottom for screen readers just in case. I'm sorry!

Sooooo someone in the comments asked specifically about Waterdeep and here's what someone who is good at math figured out! (They are correcting a previous comment with incorrect math, hence the first part of the comment):

Since a wizard is considered an archmage at level 18, it's safe to say that Gale would definitely be one of only a few wizards in Waterdeep with such a title. And if the above commenter's assumption about the Blackstaff being one of the only archmages in the city, Gale being of a similar level is HUGE, right? The Blackstaff is a big deal. From the Forgotten Realms wiki:

Blackstaff was the title and name given to the master of the eponymous staff and Blackstaff Tower, including Blackstaff Academy, as well as the Archmage of Waterdeep.

So if the Blackstaff is THE Archmage of Waterdeep, Gale, obviously, is not. But!!! If we can trust the math of the reddit users above, and we assume Gale was at least a level 19 wizard pre-orb/tadpole/whatever ... he would be one of two archmages in Waterdeep, second only to the Blackstaff themself.

I personally think that's enough renown to be a somewhat familiar name throughout Faerûn. So yes, Gale is a bit arrogant and, in his own words, pompous about being Gale of Waterdeep™ but perhaps it's warranted.

This has been a deep dive fueled by procrastination about writing the research papers I should actually be writing right now. Thank you for your time

[jjunieworld]

UNDER THE CHERRY BLOSSOM TREE ˒˒ 최범규

it’s confession day and you want nothing more than to receive a crush from your longtime friend, beomgyu.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi beomgyu x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 yeonjun, soobin, and yeji from itzy

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining but you both are oblivious, highschool au ???

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ literally watched beomgyu’s cover and music video and was struck by sudden inspiration and motivation and i just had to write something based off it! ❀ so here is a super cute little drabble in honor of beomgyu’s cover, i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 1.7k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

today was a day you both loved and absolutely hated—confession day. the day where you confess your feelings to the one who you like most.

the hallways were giddy with excitement and you couldn’t help being lured to the feeling. everyone was alight with what the day could possibly behold. as you made your way to your locker to put your bag away, you heard various snippets of conversations:

“i’m scared to open my locker! what if there isn’t any note inside?” “—and he wrote for me to meet him on the football field after school!” “who do you think yeonjun will confess to? i heard from hana that he was eying her, but mina said the same thing!” “well i heard hana say that jake was going to confess to her today on the rooftop!” “—to meet near the school gates!”

a soft smile made its way onto your lips. confession day—at least the start of it—was always one that made you happy inside. you loved seeing other people finally confess their feelings to to each other. it was also fun for you and your friends to make bets on who would confess to who.

just as you reached for the lock of your locker, you friend yeji ran up to you with a thrilled expression, her black hair flying into her face as she came to a sudden stop. “it’s confession day!” she squealed repeatedly, brushing her hair out of her face and linking her arm with yours once you got your books out. “who do you think will confess to who later today?”

“apparently hana has many suitors,” you shrugged and the two of you giggled slightly as you walked the halls slowly to your homeroom. suddenly yeji turned to you, a playful grin lighting up her face with a scrunched nose. oh god, you thought, what is she about to say?

she tickled your side, making you squirm away with a laugh. “do you think beomgyu is going to confess to you today?” she asked. you swatted her hand away, heat creeping up your neck as you looked forward to try and hide how flustered the question made you. you shrugged again, hopeful smile curling your lips.

beomgyu sat at his desk surrounded by his two friends, yeonjun and soobin. he shifted a sealed envelope from hand to hand, “to y/n” written on it. the red striped tie and dark blue blazer of his uniform suddenly seemed so constricting. “—and tell me exactly what you wrote in the letter,” he heard the tail end of yeonjun’s sentence.

beomgyu had already told soobin just minutes prior and he sighed softly as he dragged his eyes up from the letter. nerves flowed through him as he recounted the letter again for yeonjun.

dear, y/n

would you meet me under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks after school?

beomgyu

it was a very simple letter, really. beomgyu had wanted to give his confession in person to you rather than through a letter or any other means. yeonjun’s face contorted in thought. “maybe spice it up a little?” he suggested.

“i like it. it’s simple and right to the point. besides, he said he wants to confess in person,” soobin cut in before beomgyu could. yeonjun hummed before nodding slowly. “i guess it could work!”

just as yeonjun finished talking, the homeroom door opened. you and your friend—yeji, who he’s come to know of—stepped through; arms linked as you leaned into each other to whisper something he couldn’t hear. a low laugh emitted from you and beomgyu swore it was the prettiest, most melodic thing he has ever heard.

the sunlight from the open blinds of the classroom cascaded down onto your frame, illuminating you like you were on a stage. beomgyu just couldn’t believe how pretty you were. your eyes connected with his, that bright smile of yours still on your face, and you waved your hand slightly to wave at him. your bright smile turned sheepish as you quickly looked away and you and yeji made it to your seats.

from just one look, beomgyu could practically see your future together. he wanted to be yours and you to be his so desperately. he wanted to do simple day to day activities with you, like helping you with homework and putting your books into your locker. he wanted to take you to the movies and talk about what you decided to see and walk you home after, fingers just barely brushing past each other. you were just so cute.

“look at him, there’s literally hearts in his eyes,” beomgyu distantly heard yeonjun say. his eyes were still on you until fingers snapped in his face, startling him back to reality. soobin pulled back his arm with a laugh and beomgyu rolled his eyes. he glanced back to you briefly, small smile forming on his face before returning his attention back to his friends.

beomgyu looked down again at the letter in his hands. he had meant to put it in your locker this morning before you arrived, but chickened out at the last second. that’s why he was here, enlisting the help of his two idiot bestfriends to ensure everything goes off without a hitch.

soobin laid a hand on beomgyu’s shoulder and patted it comfortingly, “you got this, man! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeonjun nodded in agreement. beomgyu sighed and tucked the letter under his books. he hesitantly let their words fill him with confidence and hope. i really hope she does, he thought.

you turned slightly and looked over your shoulder, just barely catching a glimpse of beomgyu. you turned back towards yeji with a lovesick smile. “it’ll happen, don’t worry! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeji comforted you. you just sighed and directed the conversation to a different topic. i really hope he does, you thought.

when you were grabbing your bag from your locker, mid conversation with yeji, a small white envelope fluttered to the ground at your feet. yeji gasped as you bent to pick it up with wide eyes. yeji drew closer to you, hiding the letter from the view of the other students making their way towards the entrance of the school. “open it, open it!” she exclaimed.

with a deep breath you carefully opened the envelope that had “to y/n” written on it in familiar handwriting. carefully you opened up the delicate letter and read the contents, yeji beside you taking in every word as well. you froze in shock for a split second before a wide smile broke out onto your face and it took everything in you to keep from jumping up and down.

“he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks…” you breathed lowly, shock still reeling you. you repeated yourself, each word getting louder as you turned and grasped yeji’s hands with excitement and almost crinkling the letter, “he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks!”

you had gathered the attention of the students walking by and heat suddenly spread across your face and immediately calmed you down. unfortunately, just as you shrunk into your locker, your eyes briefly connected with beomgyu’s bestfriend and resident golden boy of your school—choi yeonjun.

he looked in your direction and you just barely managed to catch the smile he gave to beomgyu’s other bestfriend—choi soobin—and the words forming from his lips.

your grip on yeji’s hands tightened as you quickly pulled her towards the girls restroom. “oh my god!” she exclaimed and began jumping the two of you up and down. excited giggles left both of your lips and echoed off the walls of the restroom.

“oh my god,” yeji repeated, suddenly serious. “he means meet him now. you have to go, like, right now!” worry suddenly broke through all your emotions at the possibility of beomgyu thinking that you wouldn’t show. yeji started pushing you towards the door of the restroom.

“oh my god!” you worriedly repeated yeji’s words. in response, all she repeated was, “go, go, go!”

you booked it out of the restroom and out of the school, running all the way until you saw the familiar cherry blossom tree down the hill in front of where the school sat. distantly, you saw beomgyu’s figure waiting for you and you inhaled deeply as you made slow strides towards him. you held the letter close to your heart and tried to control your nerves the closer and closer you got to the tree.

at your incoming footsteps, beomgyu turned to you and you gasped softly and how beautiful he was. a flustered—and somewhat sheepish—smile spread across your face and you stepped just mere inches from where he stood. “i got your letter,” you said as you looked up into his eyes.

the falling cherry blossoms around beomgyu’s head and soft afternoon light framed him perfectly and it made you wonder just how lucky you were that you were the one he chose to confess to.

beomgyu opened his mouth, only to close it and have a matching sheepish smile overtake it. just as he went to open it again, a cherry blossom fell onto his head, caught in the dark strands of his hair. he looked up, just as you did as well, and you both chuckled. “can we start seeing each other?” beomgyu ask you quietly, plucking the flower from his hair and holding it out to you.

if it were even possible, your smile widened and you accepted the outstretched flower. from the corner of your eye saw yeji, yeonjun, and soobin huddle together behind a bush directly across from the two of you. yeji nudged them out of the way to get a good look but accidentally ruffled some of the leaves of the bush. you saw the three of them drop down quick as lightning behind the bush before you or beomgyu could see them.

you nodded and softly spoke, “i would really like that.” a toothy grin spread on beomgyu’s lips. finally, the one he adored the most was his.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

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[catnipaddictt]

I hate you

enemy TCW!anakin x gn!reader

synopsis: you and anakin hate each other with a passion

wc: 1.5k

cw: fluff, angst, kissing, making-out

Slamming the door behind you, you storm down the halls of the jedi temple, hell-bent on getting your way. You weren’t going on a mission with him. Reaching the doors that lead to the council chambers you open them with more strength than you intended. The sound causes the heads of the council to turn towards you. 

“I’m not going” you state rather than ask. “Anyone else, but not him.” You can feel the gaze of the other Jedi on your face. You sense they knew you were coming, probably through the sheer amount of emotion radiating off you. Obi Wan speaks before any of the other members have the chance to. 

“The council decided that you both could use this mission to sort out your uh-differences” Obi Wan speaks with a calm tone. If he picks up on your disapproval he doesn’t say so. You cross your arms over your Jedi robes unamused. “I won’t do it.”

“You have no choice, we have no choice, you too are the only ones available” He speaks your name softly. “I’m sorry we have to do this, but we need two people to complete this mission, and you both have the skills required.” You go to speak but are cut off quickly by the older Jedi. “It's final.”

You find yourself in a small ship somewhere in the outer rim brooding in the corner when he first speaks to you. “If you stopped sulking you would notice that we are about to land.” Anakin Skywalker speaks in a tone that is meant to incite a reaction from you. But you don’t give in to the novelty, instead you opt to ignore him completely.

You can feel him roll his eyes at your ignorance before moving to go pilot the ship to the surface of the desert planet you had been sent too. According to the Jedi Council, a smuggler had found something that was of interest to the Separatists. So here you were, on a remote planet with the one person you did not get along with. 

Twenty minutes later Anakin had landed the ship close to the coordinates the Jedi had given to R2, and you were standing by the door to the ship. Pulling your cloak over your head, you step out onto the white sand covering the landscape. Wind whips at the ground, causing sand to fly like bullets through the warm air. 

You cover your eyes with your arm as you notice Anakin make the descent down the steps. You can hear him grumbling to R2 about how much he hates sand. Something to do with where he came from, you supposed. 

You walked the short distance to the meeting spot. Which was a small oasis, surrounded by a few palm trees and shrubbery. After a few moments of waiting, your head turns towards the sound of a vehicle, and sure enough you see some sort of floating buggy moving towards you and Anakin. 

Once it reaches you, a creature that is unknown to you gets out and passes you a small silver box, which you take as Anakin hands it the payment. 

You turn the box in your hand, observing the intricate patterns etched into it. What in Kriffs name were they wanting this for? You tuck the object into your pocket as Anakin bids farewell to the trader, the cloud of sand from the buggy’s engine blows towards the ground as it zooms off. 

Your eyes briefly meet Anakins, but you both rip them away quickly, turning on your heel to march back to the ship. The other Jedi follows behind you at a distance, talking to his droid quietly. Throwing open the metal door you climb inside the ship, sitting back down in the corner. You don’t see why the council sent both of you on this mission. It clearly didn’t require any skills. 

Anakin enters the ship, scowling at you. R2 follows him before rolling off to charge and clean the sand from his joints. Anakin sits down in the opposite corner from you, folding his arms. You don’t look at him, instead observing each individual nail on your hand. 

“Are we leaving or are you just going to stare at me?” you speak after a few minutes of silence as well as Anakin's piercing gaze. “We are going to talk” he says with a hint of annoyance. You don’t even bother to look up. “The council obviously wants us to come to some sort of agreement over what is going on here.” 

“What’s going on here? What’s going on here is that you are so self centered that you can’t see that everyone maybe doesn’t like you” You spit at him, to which he responds with a huff. “And maybe if you stopped and looked around for a second you would see that you don’t think before you act. And the rest of us have to clean up your mistakes” You continue with a raised voice. 

He doesn’t reply to your words at first, but eventually he returns the peasantry with the same attitude. “Well, maybe if you acted less like a brat all the time, I would be able to stand you. You walk around like you can just get what you want all the time. And you do. All the time.” You try to get a word in but are cut off. “No, I don’t want to hear it, just because you can’t deal with not getting your way doesn’t mean you have to treat me like shit all the time.” 

You stand up, causing the crate you were sitting on to slide backwards. “Oh and you don’t always get your way too, Mr. Chosen one. Haven’t you noticed that the council gives you what you want, even if you aren’t the right person for the job.” Your words spill out of your mouth at a pace you didn’t think was possible.

He stands up as well, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Like you didn’t go complain to the council about this very assignment. You thought you could waltz in there and get out of it. I didn’t want to do this but you didn’t see me throwing a tantrum and going to the council.” Anakin rebuts, his voice now yelling at you. His brows are furrowed as he shouts.

You try to think of what to say but nothing comes to you. Instead you stand there only an arms length away from him, anger radiating off of you. “I hate you” is all you can manage. It's immature but it's the only way that you can express how you feel about him. 

You think Anakin is about to continue his verbal attack on you but instead you are caught off guard by him roughly pushing you against the metal wall of the ship. And before you can process his actions, his mouth is on yours.

You go completely still before reacting to his lips connecting to yours. Instead of doing the sensible thing of pushing him away and yelling at him more, your lips move with the kiss until it is a messy clash of teeth and tongues. Anakin’s arms cage you in as your mouths move in sync. You know you shouldn’t do this because of the Jedi code but his lips feel perfect against yours, and as much as you hate it, you are enjoying this.

Anakin pulls away to breathe, “This means nothing” he says breathlessly before reconnecting your lips. You kiss him back harshly before pulling away, “You make me sick” you say before kissing him again. The cycle of taking turns in between making out to insult each other goes on for what feels like forever. Slowly both of your tones go from speaking to whispering and mumbling into each other's lips. “I still hate you” you say against Anakin’s soft lips. He returns the favour “I still hate you too”. You both join your lips together again, his hands now roaming and coming to rest on your hips, pulling you against him. You can feel his tongue in your mouth and the air coming out of his nose on your face. 

Your own hands grab onto his cloak, still covered in a fine layer of sand, needing to hold onto something, or in this case someone. But this particular someone was your sworn enemy. You would never have thought you would be in a situation like this. Directly going against the Jedi code, especially because of Anakin, was a far off idea, that you would have called crazy if you had suggested it to past you. But surprisingly you don’t hate it. His warm body pressing against yours was nothing like you have felt before, and you didn’t want it to end.

No matter which way you looked at it. You could feel yourself becoming addicted to Anakin Skywalker's touch at this moment. Fuck. You pull away, finally coming to your senses. “We shouldn’t have done that.” you state clear as day. His arms don’t leave their new home, instead they grip you tighter as his face comes towards you again. “And you hate that you liked it.” he says with a sly grin. Instead of arguing you can’t resist attaching yourself to him again. 

You can feel him against you, and his saliva in your mouth, tainting your morals. And you hate to admit it, but you don’t want this to end. You want him all to yourself.

Taglist: @heartsforanakin @qvnthesia

I don't like this that much and I didn't know what to do for an ending but here you go <3 Also if people are interested in a taglist lmk!

[artificialbreezy]

okay i was in the middle of working on a smutty Matt blurb but i saw this post and i feel like its my duty to talk about it okay? cool. here we go.

this is the era that would shotgun smoke into your mouth. i’ll take no arguments.

kinda (really just weed) NSFW under the cut ◡̈

okay now let’s get into it.

MAYBE it started out friendly, right? just a casual hang out at his house. nothing you weren’t used to at this point. you don’t really smoke, never tried it. they never judged you for it, always offered if you ever did wanna try, they’d take it so easy on you and would never rush/push you into more than what you were comfortable with. so ya know what, this is the time. you’re gonna smoke weed today! so when you get there and everyone’s outside surrounded by a fire you’re extra comfortable. it’s warm, there’s no reason to be nervous, all your friends are right there, Noah is RIGHT there. he always has your back. as the night goes on and more people are working their way inside to play some drinking games, you and Noah are left outside with a half smoked blunt and a weak fire going. you’d take a deep breath, Noah immediately catching onto your nerves. “hey, what’s wrong honey?” Noah always got a lil more affectionate when he was high. you weren’t complaining though. you’d shake your head and tell him nothing. he’d cock his eyebrow, 100% not believing what you said. so you’d just quick talk it out. “iwannasmokeweedbutimalittlenervous” and you’d take another breath and stare at the fire. all to hear his sweet chuckle, “there’s this thing that we could do, where you don’t have to take a hit off the blunt. i could take the hit, give it to you and see how you feel.” and you’re more confused now, what is talking about? how can you get high by not smoking it? he’d see the confusion on your face, “you trust me, yeah?” and you’d nod.

he’d pull you into his lap, and you’re already beet red. nervous, shy, hoping to all fucks that he can’t feel how fast your heart is beating. “open your mouth a little bit.” he’d relight the blunt, take a rather big hit, grab your jaw and pull you close. close enough that his lips were on yours and blow the smoke into your lungs. he’d pull away a little, hand still holding your jaw. “fuck it.” he’d mumble, before he pulled you back into his lips. “gotta have another taste, you understand right?” he’d say between kisses.

your kiss was interrupted when the slider opened and Jesse stood there wide eyed, immediately turning back into the house yelling, “YOU GUYS OWE ME 20 BUCKS. THEY’RE OUT HERE SUCKING FACE!!” Noah would just shake his head, rub his thumb against your cheek, press a soft kiss to your mouth. “go upstairs, i’ll meet you in my bed in 10 minutes okay? we got some things to talk about.”

[11cupid-tarot11]

18+ Minors DNI

Short! How does your person dirty talk? 😵‍💫

(I have a Patreon coming soon that will have more 18+ content!! Lmk how y'all like this!

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.)

DM me for private readings

$1.11 per question

Tips appreciated! - c@shapp $minnieplant3

Love y'all!

-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

Pile 1- I forgot to write down the card names, call me a rookie in the comments 😔

Okay so I feel your person prefers to be more dominant in bed, he loves to bully you, degrade you maybe, call you pet names.(Whatever dynamic you're comfortable with) This person really worships you and your body, they think you're very beautiful and goddess like I'm hearing. Exotic maybe, you could be a different ethnicity than this person I'm hearing. He really likes to be in control, could be into roleplay maybe? I think he might want to tie you up. He does like to boss you around in bed so he'll say really aggressive things like "Take my fucking cock in your mouth" or maybe while you guys are having sex he'll like to choke you or say really dirty things like "Your tight pussy is taking my fat dick so well" it's very explicit and makes me blush actually LMAO. This person is very blunt and doesn't care who hears, he might like the idea of people accidentally hearing y'all lol.

Hi! Don't forget to do the poll at the bottom!! Hope you enjoyed<33

Pile 2- Four of cups, Ten of coins, eight of cups, The Moon, The hermit, The sun

He definitely has a lot to say, he just doesn't know how to say it all. It's hard even getting cards for this pile 😭 maybe your person is a secret admirer? Maybe someone who has a crush on you. I see he has more so fantasies of you, they could probably tell you about some of the fantasies, they could be into whispering them into your ear while you make love as dirty talk which is so cute, I'm also seeing for a specific few you could be apart of the lgbtq+ community! This person doesn't seem really shy, just really secret about his desires, which makes me feel like you know who your future spouse already might be, they could totally be in your area! Just really good at hiding hehe. I think they have a filthy mouth, they really like to get you turned on and bothered so they'll so whatever they feel like will get you turned on, they probably watch a lot of porn, they almost sound like a porno at times but you'll be so turned on you won't care it's hot trust me lol. This person really wants to see you necked, they think you're so attractive! They have a high sex drive, they like to take the lead but they also have times they love to sit back and watch you ride them. I don't think this person does a lot of dirty talking! I'm hearing lots of breathy moments which is why I think they wanted to go so much into detail about what it's like rather than what'd say, they love to use their body! Young energy lol. How cute. They adore you! 🥰

Don't forget to do the poll at the bottom!! See you next time <3

Pile 3- Nine of cups, Queen of wands, Eight of coins, Chalice, Death, 4 of Swords.

Your person loves to be a smooth talker, will moan right in your ear. Loves to tell you how good you feel/how wet you are/hot tight. Knows how to talk you through it "just right" lol. They love to see you climax, love to talk about your ass, may love to spank you, may like doggy style. They're the type to rub your feet afterwards, but they love to work hard for your climate, and may love to watch you beg for your climax. If you're feminine they love your ass and boobs, you could have a nice ass. I think they'll love to compliment your body. I don't think any group has been as forward as group 1's person, I think your person may be more quiet like pile 2's! But I'm seeing they love to watch you. They're really into fingering and listening to you moan/they really wanna make your 🐈 squelch with their fingers/really wanna make you wet in general.

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to do the poll at the bottom!!

[butterflywithsass]

Watched Dead Boy Detectives last night and I’m obsessed. If you like the queerness of good omens, but with more gore, and in the same universe as the Sandman (death and despair both show up) if you like dark academia gay boys, if you like ghosts, or paranormal stuff, or demons, if you like cats — lemme tell you this show is for you.

So, like, there’s these two ghost boys who are best friends but also gay for each other but also a secret third thing and their names are Edwin and Charles.

Edwin Payne was a demonic sacrifice in 1916 and as spend literal decades in hell but escaped. He’s a repressed Victorian gay who has zero charisma but every single man he meets becomes obsessed with him and wants to sleep with him except the boy he actually likes which is his best friend Charles. His entire character arc is about gay panic and getting over his internalized homophobia — he wears bow ties!!!! He doesn’t know what a hand job is. He’s literally the perfect tumblr blorbo. His superpower is getting tortured. He’s so sassy! His sexual awakening comes at the hands of a cat king and his first kiss is with a crow.

Charles died in like the 90s or something I’m not sure. He’s so optimistic and sunshine but also so full of rage. He’s the most supportive guy 100/10 would trust him with anything. He doesn’t like to talk about his issues. When confronted with the inexorable monsters of hell he solved the problem with a Molotov cocktail. I love him and his single earring he’s a golden retriever who would rather stay on earth with best friend than move on to a peaceful afterlife. His jawline is impeccable he can’t not press a big red button when he sees it.

Crystal Palace I wasn’t sold on because I thought she’d get between my boys but she actually so cool and I developed a bit of a crush let’s be honest I have a thing for curly haired witchy girls, she’s a physic with amnesia and a demon stalker ex boyfriend people stare at her when she hangs out with the boys cause it looks like she’s talking to herself. Everyone she knows thinks she’s insane. She’s a reformed mean girl.

Niko Sisaki I was a little iffy about because it felt like they were gonna go with the bimbo anime Asian girl but turns out she just had a parasite that made pink hearts float around her. She’s so weird she tries to help Edwin with his gay problem by introducing him to explicit gay fan fiction, she tries to get her landlord to date, she likes cool rocks. She has two tiny people trapped in a jar in her room. Her friendship with Edwin is everything. She’s ghosting her mom.

Jenny. I love her so much, she feels so safe which is weird because she chops meat and all her clothes are covered in blood. Everything about just screams big sister and her character arc is learning to embrace that. She goes on one date and almost gets murdered.

Monty. He’s literally a crow turned into a boy. He’s down bad for Edwin. He’s a secret honeypot agent for an evil witch. He has the most adorable smile, the whole time I was expecting him to be an agent of Morpheus. He’s obsessed with astrology.

The Night nurse originally annoyed me a bit (in a good way) I just wanted to get rid of her. When Charles punted her into a giant sea monster I clapped. Then it just got weird and I love it.

The cat king. He’s such a creep, but honestly, I love that for him. He has some of the best lines and he just exudes cat. He’s a classic fairy tale trickster, he a nuisance for the whole season, he’s central to the plot, he’s constantly hitting on Edwin.

Esther. She’s a archetypal evil witch. She gives off mystic trash vibes. She’s obsessed with beauty and revenge. She’s shamelessly horrible. She feeds kids to her giant snake. She literally can’t die.

All in all, I think I’m gonna have brain rot over this for the next year, go and watch it.

[seriousbrat]

Hi ! I don’t understand why people say Severus was bullied , I don’t think he was because there wasn’t a power imbalance between him and James, and he defended himself didn’t he? He created Sectumsempra for his enemies *aka The Marauders* so he doesn’t look like a victim to me😅! What do you think?

Did we read the same book? haha. Joking aside, I think there are some serious misunderstandings here about bullying. Sev was definitely bullied by James and Sirius. That's just objectively and undeniably true.

First of all, I know I've talked about this recently but there was absolutely a power imbalance between James and Severus. I think you're taking 'power imbalance' to mean 'difference in skill level' perhaps but that isn't what it means necessarily. The power imbalance between them is social. James was a very popular student, Severus was very unpopular. James came from wealth, Sev came from a poor working-class family. James was pureblood, Sev was halfblood. I think the first of these differences is probably the most relevant, but all of them are at play in the dynamic.

Sometimes 'power imbalances' in situations of abuse or mistreatment aren't as clear cut as you'd think. It might be as simple as who's stronger physically, or it might just be about who is more afraid of the other or who has more emotional influence over the other rather than such clearly defined social differences. In the case of James and Severus, however, it's pretty obvious.

Victims of bullying often defend themselves. That's extremely normal, and it's pretty much victim blaming to suggest that a victim is no longer a victim if they can or do defend themselves. Similarly, victims can do bad stuff themselves, and still be victims. Victims are rarely, if ever, "perfect" in the way they respond to abuse or bullying (or in general), and the expectation that they have to be in order to be considered victims contributes to "the myth of the perfect victim", which I encourage you to read further about! Victims often don't "look like" victims when socially we expect them to be meek and harmless and well-behaved. Few people are truly meek and harmless and well-behaved 100% of the time, especially when subject to abuse, bullying, or mistreatment.

Sectumsempra was a horrible spell but that literally doesn't change the fact that Snape was a victim of bullying. Even Snape being a bully years later to Harry and Neville doesn't change the fact that he was once bullied.

[rubydubydoo122]

could you talk more about fanon vs canon tim drake? i havent gotten too far into the comics yet but have seen a lot of him (mis?)characterized by others

Just a preface, I'm not gonna crucify any Tim fans who find themselves writing these tropes, because it is fandom, and everyone's allowed their own interpretations of the character, I'm just personally not a fan of these takes on Tim because in my mind they just don't make sense for the character. If anyone has differing opinions, feel free to (politely) explain them to me, because I'm happy to hear them.

Ok, so much like Fanon Dick Grayson, there are two versions of fanon Tim Drake.

There's version A.) where where he's one minor inconvienience away from becoming a supervillain (I understand where this one comes from and I don't HATE it) and there's version B.) where he was criminally neglected as a kid and is infantalized (This version of Tim I Loathe)

I'll start with version A. I see where it comes from. Mainly the Red Robin 2009 run, but we have to remember that Tim was grieving pretty much everyone close to him during that era. He was being self destructive because of that grief, and yeah, grief changes a person, but Tim is the type of character who would still turn out good despite all the hurt handed to him. Oh! But Gun Batman-- Tim actively chose against being that. He would rather kill himself than let himself become a version of Batman who went against everything Batman stood for. I know there are multiple storylines where Tim meets and evil future version of himself, but those versions would constantly be like a weight on him to be good. All in all, if I had to choose between the fanon Tim Drakes, I would choose villain Tim Drake, as long as it's done in more of a character-study way rather than a 'He deserves to go evil, as a treat' because it's an interesting take with the right motives.

Now onto Version B. Loser Tim Drake. The reason I Loathe this version of Tim is because it usually involves Characters Assassination of the characters around him. Ok, so do I agree that Tim Drake was somewhat neglected? Yes. But goddamit, the way I see Jack and Janet portrayed, you would think that they were running from the feds or something. They were good people, just bad parents. Maybe a little immature to raise a child, but it wasn't to the point where they would probably need to call CPS. Neglect isn't black and white, and the Drakes fell into that grey-- which I personally believe to be a lighter shade. You do have to remember that a lot of Tim's introduction was written in the 90's where parenting styles were a lot different compared to Today. Still, they sent him to boarding school, meaning they made sure that some form of adult was taking care of Tim AND a lot of people try to make Jack Drake out to be the villain for stopping Tim from being Robin, and blackmailing Bruce for it, but... It's What Any Sane Parent Would Do? I'm 18, but I know if I ever had a kid, and then fell into a coma and then woke up and found out that my Kid was fighting crime in one of the most CRIME RIDDEN CITIES alongside my middle-aged neighbor who dresses up like a furry I WOULD CALL THE FUCKING COPS. But enough about the Drakes. Because not only does Loser Tim Drake assassinate their character, but why is 17 year old Tim the victim when it comes to 10 year old Damian-- "Oh he tried to kill him' They're both trained by assassins. They're both trained. They're both Trained. Why Is a Junior/Senior in high school hurt by the actions of a 5th grader. I have a similar age gap with my younger brother. We have had pretty brutal fights and the next day we're fine. I'm not going to get into "Attack on Titans Tower AUs" but I will say this, Every Time I Start To Read One Of Those, I Lose Half Of My Hair Because of How Bad the Characterization Of Both Jason And Tim are. Please, Read, The, Comic. Jason Wasn't Trying To Kill Tim. If He Was, Tim would Be Dead. ANd Tim was Snarking Jason Through The Entire Confrontation. Lastly, Why Has DICK 'BAMF' GRAYSON TURNED INTO TIM"S NUMBER ONE OP????!!!! DIck IS LITERALLY TiM's ChiLDHOOD HEro!!!!! NoT BAtMAN, DICK GRAYSON. And like, not only that, Dick and Tim are the most brotherly. I'm Begging, Please go read a 90's comic. Why is it, the only time I see Dicks Manipulative side in fanon, It's in opposition to Tim? I bet it's bc of Teen Titans Go. I bet the only Tim and Dick interaction they've seen is TTG Robin going "No BOdy cARes AbOuT TiM DrAke"

Sorry that ended up becoming rant-y, and less objective. Since actually reading comics, fanon Tim Drake gets on my nerves.

[acourtofthought]

I find Lucien's story to be set up in such a tragically beautiful way.

Cassian, Rhys, Az. They are over centuries old and while they hadn't yet found their mates in all that time, while they weren't entirely sure they existed, I imagine they still had hope. They wondered if it would ever happen to them, if they'd find her and though they at times were probably left feeling as if they never would, there was a small part of them that believed it was still possible (something Cassian confirms when he says deep down he was holding out for a bond and Az who according to Rhys still wondered why a bond between he and Mor hadn't yet snapped).

But Lucien spent centuries thinking his chance at that kind of love was taken from him. He believed he had her and lost her to death and that was it, there would be no possible love for him that would be greater than marriage, a gift from the Mother. No way to love someone so much that even if one didn't snap immediately, he thought it was a real possibility that it someday would because he already knew he'd had that one chance and it slipped through his fingers.

Lucien has spent centuries without even that kernel of hope that the others had.

Then one day his mating bond did snap and with it a torrent of emotions. Guilt and a sense of betrayal to the memory of Jesminda but maybe, the first hope he's had in centuries of the ability to actually love again. To feel he might be allowed to open his heart to another because he knows mating bonds are a gift.

Only to be left hopeless once more upon the realization that Elain was in love with someone else, that she wanted to marry someone else. So he sets off on what is essentially a suicide mission because what else is there for him but to sacrifice himself for the greater good, to show that he believes in Elain's vision and will do what he can to help them win this war. Not because there's anything left for him to personally fight for, he has no home, he's once again left without love, his closest friendships are in a tenuous state.

Then that spark of hope is reignited at the end of ACOWAR when Elain chooses to walk with Feyre and him rather than staying behind. When she peers up at him and invites him to come to Velaris.

Only to .......... well, we know the rest.

I believe that SJM has written Lucien's arc this way because only the best things are in his future but his story so far is so unbearably tragic to me. This is a male who continues trying to move forward despite having lost all hope. Who, the moment he sees a flicker in the darkness has it suddenly taken away yet he keeps going. He helps those around him regardless of feeling it is of any benefit to him. He helps those in Spring despite them not truly being his people. He helps the NC despite them not truly being his people. He helps those in the human lands despite them not truly being his people.

To me, THIS is why Lucien is the King of Men of the ACOTAR series. Everything he does is to the benefit of others despite getting very little in return. He gives and takes nothing, expects nothing.

When an author writes them like that?? Yeah, Lucien is not going to be getting some second-rate love story. He's going to be part of Feyre's family as her brother-in-law (SJM isn't on record talking about the crazy chemistry of their friendship for nothing), he's going to be High Lord. And he's going to get the girl.

[shakingparadigm]

Hiiii!!! I’m relatively new to ALNST (as in I watched it all in one go in one night and cried) and I was wondering if you have any opinions or information about this,

What do you think about Till and Sua’s relationship? Do you think they’d share anything in common? Do you think they’d like each other? I’d like to think there’s at least one thing they share in common that’s led to be on good terms.

Sorry this is a bit long, thank you!

First of all, thank you anon. I've had thoughts on this for a while! Thanks for giving me a chance to talk about it!

Till and Sua don't often interact in canon, so it's pretty easy to assume that Sua would hate Till's guts because of his crush on Mizi (especially since that art of Mizi playing with Till includes Sua looking jealous on the side, sulking in the next page).

But something to note about the characters in ALNST is that they're actually quite respectful of each other despite the crush conflict (further seen by Ivan and Mizi being very friendly despite Ivan knowing Till loves Mizi). Everyone in the garden knew Till had a crush on Mizi, the goodbye notes state that it was very obvious.

Yet despite that one instance of Sua pouting at Mizi and Till together, Sua is never shown to dislike Till. In fact, she seems to be more conflicted with Ivan instead. In the few official arts we have of them together, they seem pretty neutral.

(Sua's collar is green, showing she's comfortable/doesn't mind Till. Till's collar is orange most likely because he's a little nervous/awkward.)

In the official Anakt Kit goodbye letters, Till and Sua write messages to each other. They're short and seem more of a polite gesture than an actual goodbye between friends, but nothenless it shows that they're pretty amicable. Till writes that Sua has a nice voice and that he hopes she gets a high score in Alien Stage, while Sua tells him to take care and that she'll see him there.

I think that Sua and Till actually have the potential to be pretty good friends, strangely enough.

As for similarities, there are quite a few!

The most significant similarity I see between Till and Sua is that they're both deeply sensitive. Due to this, they've developed different defense mechanisms in order to protect their feelings.

Till is actually known to be timid, rather closed off and "cold" to others. In an early stream, he's even stated to be the most timid character of the cast. He only reveals his energetic and fiery side when he's putting his full passion into something like performing his music, when he's provoked, or whenever Mizi is involved (she makes him "strong", the creators say). Of course this standoffish and aggressive behavior is a front for his softer, more vulnerable feelings. He was heavily mistreated as a child, which led him to become distrustful of most people. This plus other factors regarding his rebellious nature and more eccentric personality result in him being a "friendless idiot". Of course, once people get to know him they'll find that Till is actually quite the sweetheart, albeit a bit awkward.

Sua is quite similar in this way. The creators describe her as soft-hearted, which is why she tears up so quickly in the IvanSua comic and the aforementioned art of Till and Mizi playing together.

Sua, just like Till, seems to be mistreated by her alien guardian. Although to a less violent extent than Guardian Urak, Sua's parent is seen to aggressively handle her without care, grabbing her by the head and shoving her forward. She's also placed in uncomfortable clothing and neglected without consideration for her own feelings. It may be due to this cold and lonely upbringing that Sua learned to hide her emotions as a coping mechanism.

It's been said that getting to know more about Sua is very difficult, as she's closed off and only ever opens up to Mizi. She seems cold on the surface, but the truth is she is hiding her sensitivity so that she won't get hurt. Sua is also very timid in nature, seen in how she only writes in the corners of people's yearbook pages with small font, putting in extra effort to not take up too much space.

But just like Till, Sua has her bolder side. Occasionally she's known to say very blunt and suprising things that other people would not expect of her, and she feels very deeply for the people she cares about. Sua may be the more cool and collected half of MiziSua, but we must not forget that she was tender-hearted to the point where she could not imagine living a life without Mizi in it, thus her sacrifice.

Both Sua and Till's original colors are white, and both are the only characters in the main cast who have ear piercings/earrings. They're both prone to tears and play the role of "god" in their respective relationships.

Something I really like about the ALNST offrec/actor AU is that among all the characters, Till and Sua were chosen to be the seniors!! I found it really cute! Sua, who is the most petite and smallest of the cast + Till, who in canon is the youngest in age. These two are actually the experienced seniors of the actor AU! It's so fun to me lol

Anyways, sorry for all of this, maybe it was a bit much, haha. Till and Sua are my two favorites, and I've always seen similarities between the two of them. I think there's similarities across several of the characters in ALNST, actually, which I hope to talk about in the future!

Thank you for the ask!!

[magpie-lu-aside]

So. About that shadow crystal and the Master Sword. (All art belongs to @linkeduniverse and JoJo!)

I want to discuss this part because I find Four, Wind, and Legends reactions interesting, specifically because it was those three who had the argument over Twi in the first place. An argument that all three of them seem to not want to bring up again at all.

I've seen some posts saying that Four and Twilight are gonna have a talk about it (and I'm sure they will) but I'm wondering if they're gonna have a talk about the argument again too. (post got long, if you want to read more its under the cut)

(takes place in sunset pt 11)

So here's the thing about The Argument™. Four and Legend are the ones to have an opinion on the crystal itself, with Wind being more concerned about Twilight's status at that moment and wondering if the blood (not the crystal) is what could corrupt him. Wind seems to be almost unconcerned about the crystal which is why I think he was excited about the transformation rather than concerned (Four) and.... Whatever Legend is doing (I'll get back to that).

Legend and Wind also almost immediately put the argument behind them. They ran to find a great fairy fountain....

... And have interacted past this point. And I think that's because overall they agree on this, both of them have trust in the Master Sword to nullify whatever corrupting power the crystal could theoretically have.

But Four and Legend on the other hand? They have not talked to each other one on one since then.

Before this, they teased each other, Four trusted him to work on Wilds sword, and they seemed fine to be in each others space and just talk and conspire a little bit. But now? They barely even speak to each other even within the group. In fact when they do interact in a group both seem... not fully annoyed but not really laughing at each others jokes either.

Also despite the fact Legend was on the team to work on Wild's sword in the beginning, he didn't show up in the towns blacksmith to help either. And while its very easily argued he did that to stay with Twilight, based on this reaction,

He was asked or at least knew they were doing it. He was also fine spoiling the surprise to Wild despite it being mainly Fours gift (and symbol of forgiveness). He refused to join either way, and I think it could both be because he wanted to be by Twilight and also because he just... Didn't really want to interact with Four.

Now to bring it back to Legends reaction to the transformation (told you it'd come back). I don't think Legend particularly likes the crystal (who can blame him really) and I think he's with Four on not really liking the magic, so unlike Wind who's excited to see it hes still a little.. Iffy on the magic itself. And I think that still can cause tension, but that's more of a red herring to the real thing that's causing strife... And that's the Master Sword itself.

Legend and Four didn't argue over the crystal. They argued about the Master Sword. I think the shadow crystal was just the tipping point to get them talking about the Sword and make Four oppose it in some way. Four has always been indifferent to the sword, not really willing to wield it and has been absent from discussing it. But after that? I think with Four and Legend being on opposing sides, along with Time and Sky (whole other discussion I cant delve into cuz good god this post is long enough as is) is leading me into thinking that the next arc is going to delve more into that strife. And its going to be harder to overcome than Twilight being injured.

tl;dr I think Four and Legend still have beef after sunset pt 11 and its going to boil over on them and its their inability to discuss the Master Sword like normal peoples fault.