#so many patches to choose from

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[charlie-rulerofhell]

Chris Harms at Gefragt – Gejagt | The Chase A Tragedy in 3 Acts

[heartyluv]

Note: This quite literally came to me in a dream. Like…I WAS THERE. I HAD TO WRITE IT. Genuinely, I am in love with this. No need for me to yap. I hope you enjoy. Love you, beauties!

Warning: Smut, Sylus talks about killing while he’s in you, he pours syrup on them 🍒 and licks it off, he has battle scars, very brief mention of him wanting to claim you in blood (IT’S NOT CRAZY WHEN YOU READ IT, PROMISE!!!), slight breeding kink

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: The Empire’s beloved gladiator has had another day of monumental success and wants you as his victory night cap.

Gladiator!Sylus/Reader

When your name is spoken, your skin prickles with goosebumps from anticipation. After every arena held, this is what you always looked forward to.

“He has called for you.”

You look up from the book you’ve been reading, briefly scanning the dining hall that you were sitting in with several other women and feeling their gaze bore into you. Once you give your attention back to the guard who was usually the one to bring you to your champion, you nod and stand.

“Again?” one scoffs, seemingly believing she’s doing so silently enough for you not to hear.

“Out of all the women in the Empire, of all the women here,” another whispers. “He continues to choose—“

“Mind your tongue, new blood,” her maybe friend interrupts. “Have you gone mad? Should she tell him of your venomous and foolish words, you will suffer the consequences. He’s proven so before.”

The golden jewelry decorating your body clinks and jingles with each movement as you slide on your simple sandals to protect your feet from the dirt and stone floor. All eyes are on you when you make your way out the door, silently following behind the large man who was no feat compared to the one whose bed you’d warm tonight.

Everyone within and out of your grandiose town treated you with respect, even the ones who harbored jealousy for you or for the man your soul belonged to. They had no choice if they valued their life and if they didn’t know better, they were always soon made aware.

So in your short journey to the extravagant halls in which your warrior rested after his wins, each individual along your path nodded their heads or turned away out of respect. None were to even speak to you if it wasn’t by his order.

Your Sylus.

The gladiator who’s never lost a fight. One who is so victorious that he’s not just a staple in your town and several others, but in the entire Empire.

A man whom has never been conquered. At least, not physically.

No, the only thing of his that has been claimed and owned by another was his heart. And it was yours.

“Good night, miss.” The guard offered his farewell once you were right outside the giant wooden doors that led to your beloved beast.

After he has fully departed, you softly knock twice to alert Sylus of your arrival.

“Come in, kitten.” He’s memorized everything that is you. How you talk, smell, walk, knock, breathe—it’s all information and knowledge he has safely tucked in his mind. Even if he hadn’t called for you, he would’ve known those gentle raps against his door to be his lover.

Once you enter, the large warm candlelit room was perfectly illuminated to grant you the glorious sight of a nearly nude Sylus, a thin ivory sheet laying across his hips being the only thing separating your eyes from his thick cock that makes an impressive tent beneath.

“Beautiful,” he grins as he takes you in, one strong muscled arm flexing while he rests a hand behind his neck. The white-silver hair atop his head matches the patch beneath his armpit and the trail that sneaks below his bellybutton and beneath the duvet. His hard and large body is adorned with dozens of scars with stories to tell—most old, a few new.

“Congratulations on your success today, my love,”you note after shutting the door, bowing in the way you’ve seen so many do to him before. “I watched it all.”

“I know you did.” He holds a hand out to you. “And I’ve told you, no need for the formalities. Come. I’ve missed my woman.”

“Have you now?” you tease, kicking off your shoes. “It’s only been a few days.”

“A second without you is a poor existence. Tell me, have you not ached for me to the same degree, sweetie?”

“Perhaps once I’m sitting on your cock, you can let me know if you can feel how badly I’ve craved you.”

His dick throbs at your words, his body shifting as if it would relieve any of the pressure. Beginning to walk barefoot toward him, he puts up a hand to halt you, grinning at the way you meet his gaze head on.

“Get undressed for me. Show me my prize.”

You lick your lips, staring into his mesmerizing rubies as you tug the thin material of your dress down your shoulders. Quickly does it pool at your feel, leaving you in nothing but all your bangles and necklaces that he has gifted you.

He likes when you wear the things he buys you, so you don’t work to remove any of the expensive gold.

Once you’re at the side of his bed, he quickly pulls you in by the waist with strength seemingly inhumane, placing you on top of him. The only thing keeping him from slipping inside of you right now is the dreaded blanket, but you can feel his dick trying to nestle between your pussy lips, making you shiver.

He kisses all over your tits, sucking and nipping at your flesh to mark you in ways only he can. Your hand tangles in his hair as the soft crackle of the fireplace behind you sets the romantic atmosphere.

“I see they’ve fed you well,” you smile, looking at the assortment of fruits, cheese, sweets, and syrups he has on his bedside.

“This was intended to be my dessert after the feast they granted me.” He takes your nipple into his mouth, pulling a sexy moan from you. “But I had a different one in mind. A better one. My only one.”

Your hips try to rock in an effort to feel him more, but he holds you still by your waist. “Don’t rush this, kitten. Let me take my time with you. I like to savor my rewards.”

“Some rewards need to be claimed faster than others.”

“Indeed they do,” he grins into your neck as he peppers kisses down the kiss of your throat. “But greed…it’s a slippery slope. Grab the syrup, since you’re so eager.”

You’re not confused at all by his intentions. In fact, the mere thought of what he’s getting ready to do makes you clench around nothing.

Once you grab the small dish of berry syrup, he takes two generous handfuls of your ass, tilting his head lightly. “Pour some on yourself.”

“You’ll clean me?” you grin, using your other hand to take hold of his throat gently. He looks up at you with need, groaning when you lick his lips.

“Do what I say and we’ll find out, won’t we?”

You two stare into one another’s eyes as you tilt the bowl to let the sweetness stick to your tits. Immediately, Sylus’s hot tongue laps it up. The wet muscle licks down the valley of your breast before he alternates between two of his favorite things to give each of them the attention they deserve.

Your cunt throbs and your whines grow louder the harder he sucks.

“Yes…F—fuck, your mouth…” you cry, pouring more of the delicacy when he runs out. You go until the thing is empty and he’s running on lust and a sugar rush.

The soft pops his mouth sounds when he makes contact with your hot body is enough to have you completely soaked. He can feel your juices wetting the sheet, letting his cock know as it soaks it up, how badly you need him.

“Be good,” he mumbles breathlessly, unable to stop lathering you in kisses. “And let me in.”

Eagerly, you reach behind you to pull the fabric away, hissing when it grazes your clit. His cock sits between you once revealed, waiting for you to put him where he’d get on his knees and beg you to be. Sitting on your knees, Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you start to sit down on his length, needing nothing but your bodies to guide him to your tight hole.

“Sylus…” you call his name once you’re filled with him. It’s a relic on your tongue, enchanting him how the two syllable spill out of you. You don’t wait for long, letting his strong hands explore your plush body as he guides you up and down his cock.

“I’ve killed men for you,” he declares, your breasts pressing against his hard chest only surging him on. You hold him closely, like he could snake out of your hold at any given moment.

“I’ve felt their blood mark my skin after I cut them down for the taunting words they’d spew in the arena.”

It was rare for anyone to not know that you and Sylus owned each other. It was even more rare for anyone to not know that should they utter your name with anything negative to follow it, Sylus would make them an example. His attentiveness to that has made it so he hasn’t had to make many.

The sound of slapping skin echos in the room, announcing the beauty of your lovemaking. “Their lives were already mine the moment they decided to go against me, but their fates were eternally sealed when your precious name was used in vain of their idiotic words. And you know what?”

“W—what?” You’re nearly drooling as his length moves within you, your wetness and his precum making a delicious mess along your gummy walls.

“I imagined me claiming you in their blood. Letting everyone watch as I show them how mad I can be for you. Would you let me, kitten?”

“Without hesitation…” you answer immediately, clenching tightly around him when you feel his dick pulse like it’s proud of you. Each dribble of his impending load leaking into your womb makes your mind grow infinitely more foggy with bliss.

“You like when I kill for you. I can feel how much harder you squeeze me.” He smirks cockily, but he’s right. He’s so fucking right and you don’t even care.

“I’m going to put my baby in your womb and the ring you deserve on your delicate finger.” His words hold so much promise.

“Please,” you beg. “Give it to m—me…Fuck, Sy…” Your thighs and legs burn, but you won’t stop. You refuse to—not when both of you are so close.

“My cum will take root,” he kisses down your shoulder. “And when you’re barefoot and pregnant with my seed, I’ll kill a thousand more in honor of the both of you.”

You slam your lips onto him, your tongue and his battling for control as you taste him. Naturally he wins, but you like to let him. You like being owned, protected, and loved by him. No matter how much you could hold your own, he has come into your life to show you that he can and will wield all of it so that you don’t have to.

His hands caress your back and you two fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, coming together at the same time. Your moans and mewls are pouring into his mouth just as his cum does inside of your pussy. He holds you down and close, doing everything in his power to make sure not a drop is wasted.

Your needy sounds curate the perfect symphony alongside his manly grunts and shuddering breath.

With the little bit of energy you have left, you grind against him to overstimulate your aching clit. When you can’t take anymore, you rest your chin on him and trace the scars along his arms in comfortable silence. You kiss each one your puffy mouth can reach, cleansing him with your affection.

“I’ll clean you before I have you again.” You giggle at how he says it so matter-of-factly.

“Good.” You pull back, sighing in contentment as he fondly kisses on your breasts once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mhm,” he continues to indulge. “You aren’t.”

A/N: Guys. What are we thinking? Me? Like I said—I LOVE THIS SO FREAKING MUCH!!! Like lowkey Camboy!Caleb level love. I started writing this last night before I fell asleep, and when I woke up this morning, it was like the little story never stopped. My fingers were just flyinggg (pause). LOLLLL!!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

[starcurtain]

Some Notes on Mydei's Characterization (Part 1)

I'm already tired of seeing Mydei slander (if I have to read "He's a brawn over brains berserker who just cares about fighting" one more time, I might actually die), so I thought I'd put together some quick notes on what canon has to say about Mydei's character. Please note this post contains only my own interpretations of canon material; not everyone will interpret scenes in the same manner.

Starting with some of the most off-base stuff I've seen first:

1. Being Capable of Violence is Not the Same as Being Violent

Mydei's trailer and his role in the story both confirm that he is capable of extreme acts of violence. When it comes to battle, multiple people--Eurypon and Phainon, for example--refer to Mydei specifically as a "beast," rather than a person. In his character stories, we're told that he was such a ferocious predator in the Sea of Souls that even monsters stopped coming near him, and in another of his character stories, he's described as tearing the throat out of an opposing enemy who had an army a thousand men strong. It is a basic and unavoidable fact of Mydei's character that he is capable not only of killing but of killing in egregiously brutal ways, literally tearing his enemies apart with his bare hands.

Mydei will fight, he will cause harm, and he will kill--whenever it is necessary to do so.

But there is an extreme world of difference between being capable of violence and actually being a violent person, and Mydei has shown, in both word and deed, that he is an inherently gentle character who, if given the option, would prefer to choose the path of least harm.

Over and over, the devs hit us players with the idea that Mydei's actual nature is one that abhors needless violence. We see this from his first character story, where Mydei--despite being thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant, despite fighting every single day of his childhood just to survive--is described as saving drowning fishermen with no reward. Even the author of the legend points out the incongruity of this choice, saying "Why would a Kremnoan ever bother to save others?"

Remember that this is a Mydei who has had literally no human contact. He has no frame of reference for even the concept of generosity. If we take his story seriously, then despite being effectively feral at this point in time, his innate reaction to seeing others in danger was simply to provide aid. Even when his own survival was the only thing he had experience with, he still chose to selflessly save others, with no motivation other than the fact that benevolence appears to be his core nature.

Reinforcing this idea that Mydei is an inherently gentle person, there's the memory in Castrum Kremnos where an unknown someone asks Mydei what his dream is, with the only acceptable options being different combat roles. But Mydei's answers are charmingly abstract instead--young Mydei doesn't want to be a soldier and bring harm to others, he wants to be a wanderer or even a "beam of light."

(Saw some interesting talk linking this "beam of light" with Kephale recently too. I'm very interested to see whether the upcoming patches will tie these connections together or if we're all just reading too much into things lolol.)

3.0's plot hammered this home as well, with Mydei continually disputing Aglaea's mission requests; Aglaea says that sending too many Chrysos Heirs to fight Nikador would be a waste (in case they end up dying), to which Mydei responds that there's no point in needlessly risking people's lives.

Even the 3.0 side quests repeat this message, with one Kremnoan NPC, Aelius, noting that an assassin tried to murder him on his first day in Okhema. Instead of responding with force, as might be justified by the severity of the crime, Mydei--brand-new to Okhema and their ways himself!--still chose diplomacy, and went to the Council of Okhema to legally ensure the Kremnoan people's safety, instead of directly seeking vengeance.

Even a small scene in Kremnos's ruins gives the devs an opportunity to show that Mydei prefers to exhibit aggression only when threatened first: As the Trailblazer and Co. wander through the Soul-Forging Zone, the group meets a half-crazed titankin. Obviously it poses a danger and could become a more serious threat in an instant, but Mydei doesn't offer it any resistance. It isn't violent with him, so he has no reason or motivation to be violent with it... as opposed to Phainon, whose first reaction is immediately to attack.

(If you choose to kill it, by the way, Mydei scolds Phainon and the Trailblazer, effectively calling them bloodthirsty executioners...)

When Krateros attempts to manipulate Mydei using Mydei's mother's wishes, urging him to continue the cycle of domination in Kremnos, Mydei stops him cold by pointing out that (like Mydei who inherited her beliefs) he knows Gorgo was opposed to violence for violence's sake:

Then, of course, there's the entire deal about refusing the crown of Kremnos, breaking his people's endless cycle of violent lives and even more violent deaths and repeatedly refusing Nikador's power because Mydei had no desire to become Strife. Despite revering his people's god for what Nikador was supposed to be--the guardian who sacrificed everything to protect Amphoreus--the game repeatedly tells us that Mydei sees Kremnos's cultural tradition of conquest as a meaningless waste of life, glorifying cruelty for no reason and bringing nothing but harm to the Kremnoans and Amphoreus as a whole.

Mydei fought hard to not become the demigod of Strife. At every turn, he was pressured and manipulated by others against his expressly stated wishes, and ultimately was left with no choice but to accept the destiny forced upon him despite clearly longing for a different, gentler life. Although I'll talk more about this later, the fact that Mydei even went so far as to change his name among the Chrysos Heirs shows us just how intensely he was trying to separate himself from his own past and from Kremnos's bloody history. Mydei wanted to be a person, yet in the end, he was forced back into being a beast, into becoming the symbol of violence, the very thing that took everything good from his life.

(This isn't a shipping post, but Phainon's efforts to take on Nikador's coreflame can be read to at least some extent as a rescue attempt--despite himself believing that Mydei was the better fit for Strife, Phainon saw how sincerely Mydei did not want to take the coreflame trial, and at least in small part, Phainon did take on the trial to spare Mydei from that inevitability. Personally, I think this failure will eventually be one of the linchpins that brings Amphoreus crumbling down, because Phainon was supposed to be everyone's hero, but just like Cyrene, he failed to save Mydei.)

I've seen some people debating this idea that Mydei is not a violent person by pointing out that Phainon calls him "reckless when he gets the urge to kill." In 3.0, Phainon implies that Mydei could even hurt other people with his recklessness in battle. But... we have never seen Mydei ever bring any harm in battle to someone he didn't intend to hurt. No one innocent ever gets injured in-game by Mydei (at least so far...), and we have no indications at any point that Mydei would intentionally endanger others out of recklessness. In fact, even in their first scene, it's Mydei who scolds Phainon for being careless during battle.

For example, Mydei's first reaction to confronting Nikador was to immediately remove Phainon and the Trailblazer from the fight so that they wouldn't come to harm. Even inside the coreflame trial, while the power of Strife was driving Phainon mad, Mydei was still level-headed enough to rally the Trailblazer and Dan Heng and get Phainon out safe. Mydei was still rational enough to even recognize the Okhemans inside the illusion and say "This isn't who these people really are; they're being twisted by Nikador."

Is this really the behavior of a reckless person who loses his sense of reason in battle?

To be honest, players should take most of what Phainon actually says about Mydei with a grain of salt. Phainon, especially during 3.0, doesn't actually know Mydei's whole story (for one, he has a foot in mouth moment in 3.0 where he tells Mydei to make more friends, only to then find out in 3.1 that Mydei had more friends; they just all died), and we know that Phainon often exaggerates Mydei in many ways when talking to others. Mydei may be reckless in battle--but his recklessness almost certainly centers on himself, being willing to risk his own life, rather than others'. This is echoed again in his "Keeping Up With Star Rail" video, where Phainon comments on Mydei's complete lack of self-defense once he enters battle. While Phainon might think Mydei's lack of attention to his own pain is worth calling out, it isn't a sign that Mydei is genuinely a mindless berserker.

I've also seen people debating this point by saying that Mydei appears to go "crazy" in battle and starts grinning when he gets a battle high. But as for Mydei's smiling in battle, we really only see it three times: 1) When Phainon first returns to Okhema, 2) When Mydei finally engages in solo combat with Nikador, and 3) When engaged in solo combat after all his allies in the coreflame trial already "died."

Again, this isn't a shipping post, so write the first smile for Phainon off as you choose--maybe Mydei's just excited to have the opportunity to flex in front of his "rival." The other two smiles are admittedly a bit unhinged, but I'd argue that neither of these moments represents actual enjoyment of battle. Instead, both of these smiles occur only inside the overwhelming pall of Nikador's power, which we're told canonically infects the mind with a desire for bloodshed. More importantly, both of these instances also take place when Mydei is only fighting titankin, not human opponents, and only after Mydei has been left entirely alone, when he is certain that the only person at risk in the fight is himself. When Mydei can confirm that there's no one left to defend (or left for him to lose!), then and only then does he give in to Nikador's violence for violence's sake and engage in battle whole-heartedly.

tl;dr: Mydei was the crowned leader of a culture that glorified cruelty, death, and mindless brutality. He was forced into a life of violence where he had to fight tooth and nail for survival from virtually the moment of his birth. Everyone he ever loved died worshiping a god that used their souls as nothing but fodder for further meaningless destruction. Yet Mydei was doing everything he could to rise above that life, and to help others also rise above that life. Of course he fights when he must, but reveling in it? I don't really see the evidence.

My man did not tear down a dynasty, breaking a thousand years' cycle of pointless strife, to get hit with the "He's a battle junkie" allegations. I swear to god I will bite the next person who says it--

2. His Reputation as Quick-Tempered is a Front

While it's typically not Mydei's fans going around saying Mydei's just another "battle-obsessed manly man," there is a different stereotype I actually do see being perpetrated by self-proclaimed Mydei fans: It seems to be a common trend in fanfics and fanarts to write Mydei with a strong temper, showing him becoming very aggressive when annoyed and suggesting that his first resort in difficult situations is always brute force.

To be fair, I think this is influenced by a number of factors, not the least of which is the game itself playing with this idea as a joke. In Mydei's "Keeping Up With Star Rail" video, Phainon playfully reduces Mydei to the quick-tempered brute stereotype, saying things like:

Phainon also brings this up at other points, such as suggesting that Mydei would only need one try to solve the puzzle in Janusopolis because his method of solving it would be... to just punch his way through.

But again, please take the things Phainon says about Mydei with a grain of salt. Roasting your friends for fun is simply a given, and I think that Phainon's comments about Mydei are meant to be understood as playful banter about his "rival," not serious analysis of Mydei's temperament (which really doesn't align with the stereotype of a hot-head at all).

Complicating this whole situation is the English voiceover, where it is clear the voice director encouraged Mydei's English VA to portray Mydei as particularly gruff and worked up in many of his lines. I have nothing against the English VA at all, but the voice direction of the English version clearly missed the mark on Mydei's character and went for a more aggressive vibe than any of the game's other languages. (The whole thing reminds of me Ray Chase not being given proper direction on Neuvillette's character at first and dramatically changing his voice acting over the course of Fontaine's patches.) I don't mean that English Mydei is never gentle, but that many of the lines are delivered with a level of vitriol that is not suited to the scene at all nor present in other languages. (Compare this line delivery in English with the same line in Chinese, for just one example.) The English interpretation of the character is strongly colored by this strange directing decision ("Mydei should be actively angry in many of his scenes"), unfortunately.

Complicating the whole situation even further is fandom's habit of reducing characters to flat caricatures because making funny meme art and exaggerating character traits for comedic effect is so common. (And enjoyable, don't get me wrong lol.) There is a well-loved relationship dynamic of "the grumpy one with the sunshine one," and I think unfortunately Mydei and Phainon are getting this treatment in fandom quite a bit: Phainon is depicted as the exuberant, happy puppy, while Mydei is the angry, bristling cat. It just makes sense when we consider cliches, right? The muscle-bound warrior dude will obviously be a cranky, easily angered hot-head, no? To a certain extent, I understand why fans jump to that conclusion and take that route in their fanworks; it's definitely easier to depict the characters with these kinds of shorthand tropes than to encompass their complicated personalities in every art or fic.

But the problem is... in-game Mydei is really not much like fanon Mydei, at least where tempers are concerned.

Repeatedly, the game tells us that Mydei keeps a level head even in situations of extreme pressure, and that he prefers to use communication, rather than force, to try to resolve the conflicts he encounters. Going back to some examples I've already mentioned: In the ruins of Kremnos, he's the first to suggest communicating with the titankin and the first to suggest that there's no reason to use violence against them. In 3.0, a scene lots of people say shows Mydei's "bloodlust," where he confronts Nikador and claims he has an intent to kill, actually starts with the line: "All that anger and regret I feel right now, I've learned to control them".

In Okhema, when the Kremnoans were facing assassination attempts, Mydei handled the situation legally, within the confines of Okhema's clearly ridiculous bureaucracy, to ensure that the Kremnoan people would be able to live within the city. In 3.1, when Krateros wants to lose the Okheman guards that are trailing them, Mydei defers to Krateros's lead, asking him if they should use force on the guards and only complying when he says yes.

In fanarts, it's common to draw Phainon doing something silly, with a 💢grumpy Mydei💢 barely tolerating it. But... in game, Mydei actually tends to weather Phainon's teasing without that much issue, often playing along readily and teasing back or simply not rising to the bait at all, sometimes giving him a flat response that actually irritates Phainon instead.

Even when Phainon lobbies some of his snappiest jests (the line about Mydei not being able to write comes to mind), Mydei's strongest reaction is usually "Why are you stupid?" and then he moves on. He's not out here roaring like an angry lion or flipping a table every time someone is a bit obnoxious in his general vicinity. Mydei's mostly chill with the silliness, guys. He's sometimes silly back.

And even in the moments where he should be his angriest, such as the day he avenged his mother by killing his father, Mydei tends to respond to pressure and even cruel provocation with level-headed answers, coldly telling Eurypon just how pointless the entire crown of Kremnos was. Krateros insults Mydei specifically for choosing communication as his conflict resolution strategy. Like, how did people decide Mydei would be an easily provoked hot-head when his own mentor insults him for trying to solve Kremnos's problems using words instead of action?

Perhaps one of the only occasions in the game where we actually see Mydei genuinely lash out in anger is the moment with Tribbie, where she tells him not to worry for Phainon. Mydei responds harshly--but then immediately walks his words back, explicitly notes that his single sharp answer was rude, and apologizes.

But what I haven't seen anyone discuss is that fact that Mydei had every right to be angry at Tribbie here. In the prior scene, Aglaea literally belittled and pressured him into taking on the Strife coreflame following Phainon's failure, and Mydei knew in this scene that Tribbie was fully aware of Aglaea's plan to manipulate Mydei using Phainon.

Again, not a shipping post, but Tribbie daring to go "Aw, don't be worried" rightttt after that concern for his friend was weaponized against Mydei to deny him his agency? A direct slap in the face. Aglaea--with Tribbie as her willing accomplice--knowingly put Phainon's very life at risk to entrap Mydei and force him to take on a role he was rejecting with every fiber of his being. After deliberately using Phainon as a tool, for Tribbie to have the audacity to say "You shouldn't worry about him" was actually pretty vile.

And yet it's Mydei who apologizes. It's Mydei who reins in any hint of frustration and tries to approach the situation politely, as if the person he is talking to hadn't literally just doomed him to an entire future of misery by using the safety of one of his only remaining friends as leverage. The achievement you get just before this moment, "Sing, O Goddess, of His Rage," suggests that Mydei truly is rightfully furious about this situation--but in the end, Mydei still forgives both Tribbie and Aglaea without hesitation, because he knows the importance of the Flame-Chase Journey and of following the prophecy at all cost.

Does this really strike us as someone who flies off the handle at minor annoyances, someone who is brash or easily riled up, someone who resorts to punching his way through all his problems?

Despite appearances, I think it would be more accurate to say that Mydei's temper runs pretty even and that he is actually difficult to provoke to genuine anger. There are times where we see him truly furious (when he confronts Nikador about the honorless scheme to attack Okhema, when he confronts his father, etc.), but in every situation where Mydei is angry, it's because the anger is absolutely justified, because something truly unforgivable is happening to him or those he's sworn to protect.

Mydei's suffered just about every manner of injustice it is possible for a person to suffer, and yet he soldiers on without making his suffering other people's concern. He apologizes for even minor outbursts, despite his feelings of outrage clearly being righteous. In some cases, we might even read him as a little passive aggressive instead--the fact that Phainon's food is nasty whenever he really annoys Mydei and yet he has no idea why the food is bad is a hilarious hint that Mydei's definitely more of a "revenge is a dish best served cold" kind of person than a hot-head.

So what about that moment early on, where Mydei uses the threat of violence to silence Verax Leo?

Well, no Verax Leos were harmed, so? Ha, being serious, I actually think this moment should be better understood as the player's first real insight into Mydei's character, separate from Phainon's colorful commentary.

This moment tells us one thing really clearly about Mydei: He's self-aware. Mydei knows the Verax Leos are literally cowardly lions, and he knows they think he's scary. He's aware of his own reputation as a "beast," and he isn't above utilizing that reputation to achieve a goal if doing so will produce a greater good for others. Without even needing to resort to any actual attack, Mydei is able to silence the Verax Leo's rumor-mongering using just the threat of his capacity for violence.

This suggests to the player that Mydei is actually discerning, straight to the point but intelligent enough to tailor his actions to the level of response that is appropriate for a given situation. He's not a "go in fists blazing right from the start" kind of guy when that's not what's needed. He could easily just punch the lion off the wall--but he doesn't. He lets his words doing the threatening, instead of his fists. (The fact that this particular Verax Leo was apparently helping to slander Kremnoans the week before and still lived to spread rumors about March tells us how disinclined Mydei is to solve his daily problems with actual violence.)

The takeaway is that Mydei's angry reputation among Okhemans, but hell, also among players(!), is largely fueled by stereotypes more than by any real actions on Mydei's part. People expect him to be a quick-tempered brute, so that's what they see, even when Mydei's real actions don't lend themselves to that cliche much.

Yet Mydei is also self-aware enough to know that same crude reputation is a powerful tool. It benefits him for certain groups to be very afraid of him, and this leads to an interesting conflict in the character: On the one hand, Mydei wants to distance himself from Kremnos's violence. He renames himself, swears allegiance to Aglaea's cause of hope, and spends his free time in Okhema doing gentle things like taking part in cooking competitions, playing house with kids, and judging drama festivals. More on this in a bit, but I think it's very interesting that not a single one of his marketing or promotional materials--nor any of his scenes in the game itself--show him willingly spending his free time on martial pursuits. (The animation they gave us was Mydei playing with children, not sparring with Phainon or even training with his dedicated warrior brothers-in-arms.) Mydei clearly wants to be seen and relate to others as a person separate from his bloodstained past.

On the other hand, his reputation as a terrifying warrior is one of the only things allowing him to live his current life. It's only as the to-be "blood-crowned" king of Kremnos that the Kremnoans willingly follow him and respect what he has to say. His ability to decide their futures hinges on them continuing to perceive him as Mydeimos, their undying lion of conquest. His only use to Aglaea and the Flame-Chase Journey is as the future manifestation of Strife or as an expendable resource that can be thrown single-handedly at enemies because he's the only one that can take their punishment and keep kicking. His place in Okhema is only secure so long as the Okhemans continue to fear his might, their discrimination kept at bay only by the knowledge that none of them can come close to defeating the Kremnoans if it came to blows. His reputation in Okhema is secure only so long as he can continue to cow the Verax Leos into silence with threats of retaliation.

Mydei doesn't have any attachment to his image as a monster--and yet his situation will not allow him to let it go. As much as he would like to live a different life, the view that others have of him--that he is an angry, savage person who is barely restraining an innate violent nature--is a shield locked in his hand, protecting him and making it possible to keep going--even when all he really wants to do is stop.

So, long story longer: I don't think Mydei has an especially hot temper at all; he's lived an incredibly hard life and had every one of his hopes and dreams systemically stripped away from him. He's under constant and immense pressure and feels entirely alone in bearing his burdens. His frustration occasionally bubbling to the surface--for which he apologizes--is not only justified but honestly still shockingly under-stated. If I was in his situation, a whole lot more heads would have rolled.

And now, a few less important notes to round this post out because I can already tell I'm going to hit tumblr's image limit before I run out of things to say about Mydei, so:

3. He's Not a Dumb Jock or Actually that Fitness Obsessed

This one is kind of annoying because Mydei's marketing materials like to play with the "dumb jock" trope as a joke. As mentioned before, we have Phainon's humorous "If you want wisdom, he's got might" line, Mydei being terrible at math (to the point even the Trailblazer assumes they'd be better at math than Mydei), the implication that Mydei is so straightforward he would miss deceptions from those speaking in ill faith (like during the Verax Leo's riddles), and of course, the overwhelmingly common stereotype of gym bros caring more about their muscles than their brains...

But the game also goes out of its way, repeatedly, to emphasize that just as Mydei doesn't fit the stereotype of the savage warrior, he also doesn't fit the stereotype of brawn over brains, of focusing more on physical prowess than thought.

Mydei being bad at math is played for laughs, sure, but in the same breath we're also told that he's a better student of history than Phainon is (which loops back into ironic when you remember that Phainon loves history and clearly wants to be good at it).

Mydei is one of the game's only confirmed bilingual characters outside of the Genius Society, despite the fact that, if his backstory is to be believed, he would have spent the most formative years of his childhood entirely language-less, and even after leaving the Sea of Souls, would likely not have attended any form of formal schooling. He never went to the Grove like Phainon and Castorice, yet he's capable not only of speaking and reading in multiple languages, but also of translating even archaic variations of his native tongue, enough so that (according to his marketing), being an archaic Kremnoan language mentor is one of his official titles.

He's also one of the characters most strongly associated with reading in the entire game, via the library, his canonically stated ability to interpret poetry, his character stories all being texts... All the other characters associated as strongly with reading as Mydei in the game are regarded as "nerds": Ratio, Dan Heng, Pela... Somehow critical portions of Mydei's character can be oriented around literature and he still gets hit with the dumb jock label???

He's also an accomplished military strategist capable of commanding the respect of seasoned veterans as well as waging effective war campaigns against enemy nations with a marginal, aging army and virtually no resources... He's capable of playing Aglaea's and Okhema's political games, despite having obvious disdain for such things... In fact, in Mydei's goodbye to Aglaea, he speaks to her as one nation's leader to another, remarking on how he's learned valuable lessons in managing his people from her, and specifically highlighting that her trait he most admires--what is missing from his own people's history--is her ability to instill genuine hope in others.

But yeah, Mydei is dumb muscle because it's funny, I guess.

What makes the whole "jock" thing loop around into doubly ironic (and also sad) is that although Mydei's character does involve a strong emphasis on health and fitness, the way it's framed in his marketing versus his actual in-game character is extremely different. Mydei's marketing is all about combat, how he's a "fitness ambassador," and "performance enhancers aren't in the Kremnoan language."

But in game Mydei...?

He doesn't have anything particularly unique to teach Phainon. There isn't any special "extreme Mydei training regimen" above what the other Kremnoan soldiers do, a fact we can confirm with the bath NPC Peleus, who tells us that Mydei has taught him his training regimen, and it's just the "Kremnoan traditional exercises" (the high-altitude shuttle run, firewalking, etc.). This idea that Mydei isn't devoting himself to constantly improving his ~super special combat capability~ is also reiterated in Mydei's marketing when someone tries to scam Okhemans by selling a secret "Mydei combat move" and Mydei is just like "There's no such thing..."

Yes, this is me telling you that the fanon thing where Mydei is all about hitting the arena to beat the crap out of challengers every single day is probably not that lore accurate. Yes, of course Mydei spars and keeps up with his strict exercise routine, but combat training doesn't actually seem to be his favorite hobby. In the game, Phainon is definitely worked up about wanting to spar and practice together, but Mydei's attitude to the idea of training with Phainon seems closer to "Please... be more chill..."

Just as an example, at possibly the most plot relevant time ever to suggest a spirit-raising spar with his "bro," the ideas that instead come to Mydei's mind for working out Phainon's disappointment are...

All gentle socializing.

In fact, although Mydei's marketing hyper-emphasized the "fitness" shtick, we never actually see Mydei sparring or training with anyone in any of his mainstream marketing materials or in game. (I'd say we don't even see him fitness training at all, but hey, they did add one chat sticker where he has a weight lol.)

Although we're informed repeatedly that Mydei's a fitness junkie, what his marketing and in-game free time scenes actually show us are, uhhhh *checks notes* sleeping in, taking long baths, eating pancakes, singing around the campfire with his band of bros, people watching, and babysitting? It's the life he truly deserves.

Again, this isn't to say Mydei doesn't train (obviously you don't look like that without putting in massive effort!), but both promotional materials and the scenes chosen for characters in game are deliberately designed to highlight the most integral aspects of characters' personalities. Mydei surely is exercising hard to keep up his health off-screen--but by de-emphasizing that in what the game actually visually shows us players, the only obvious conclusion is that other things (food, playing with children, spending time with comrades) are much more important to Mydei than just getting swole. Out of the "warrior" type characters we have in Star Rail, Mydei is one of the least pumped up about sparring that we've seen. From what we're actually given in game, Yanqing is infinitely more gung-ho about combat training than Mydei is.

In fact, rather than exercise itself, I'd say more of Mydei's "fitness" focus in game comes from his connection to food, and--perhaps this is me reading into things a bit too much (but that's my job, you know)--I'd argue that Mydei's repeated emphasis on eating healthy is actually a thinly-veiled trauma response to his childhood experiences with starvation.

We're told that, in the Sea of Souls, he fed on the raw flesh and bone of the abyssal monsters he fought--literally eat or be eaten--and could really only hold off the feeling of starving on the rare times that the tides were low and he could catch live shrimp instead. He also closely associates the Kremnoan Detachment, his only refuge, with the notion of comfort food.

And every time food is discussed, he's quick to tell others, even the Trailblazer, exactly what to add in order to make sure they're not only full but also eating a balanced meal that will keep them hale and whole. More than a gym bro, I think Mydei missed his calling as a nutritionist.

Long story longer, Mydei has never had a time where he could go without fighting. For virtually all of his life, at least until he reached Okhema, fighting was all he ever knew. Would he even really need much extra fitness training when his entire existence is a constant stream of battles, of pushing his body to its limits over and over again? He's been "working out" since he was literally an infant, with no down time, and even in relatively peaceful Okhema, a Chrysos Heir's duty to battle never ends.

This is just my personal take on it, but I'm inclined to think that when he finds rare moments of peace, Mydei would probably prefer to do things other than fight, especially if it's something that allows him to provide for himself and others, helping his friends stay well, such as through cooking.

I think the in-game material does a great job of emphasizing that Mydei's definition of "fitness" doesn't necessarily focus foremost on being a gym bro/jock who hits the training field every five minutes--his definition of "health" and "wellness" have a lot to do with nourishing the spirit at the same time.

4. Mydei is Significantly Less Impulsive than Phainon

Okay, I can hear you--if Mydei's not a brute, and he's not a fiery temper, and he's not much of an actual gym bro, what is he?

Well, unfortunately I'm just here to tell you another thing he's not: He's not actually that proactive of a rival either.

Aglaea is quick to call Mydei and Phainon "impulsive youths," putting them on the same level in terms of childishness, but actuallyyy...

Despite the fact that Phainon likes to claim Mydei "taunts him every time they meet", every single actual competition we've ever seen between Mydei and Phainon was initiated 100% by Phainon, with Mydei just sort of getting swept up in Phainon's antics.

In their joint lightcone, it's Phainon who calls for the contest of speed. In Kremnos, it's Phainon who proposes the titankin killing competition. After the coreflame trial, it's Phainon who demands the hot bath challenge (and then lies and blames Mydei lol), and it's even Phainon who turns taking home the other affected bath patrons into a competition too, one in which Mydei flat out claims he wasn't even competing:

We're given several hints, particularly throughout 3.0, that Mydei and Phainon's prior missions were largely characterized by Phainon coming up with ridiculous plans, and Mydei mostly going "Welp, that sounds like it's going to get us killed, but okay I guess."

While Phainon is ready to go "Fuck it, we ball" and fight a titan to the death all by himself, Mydei spends the entire first part of 3.0 going "Hey, so, like, fighting Nikador without an army is a really dumbass decision, and we should probably not be attempting this."

(This moment is kind of less funny in retrospect when you rewatch it with the knowledge that Mydei knew they couldn't handle the fight, but Phainon was like "No, we totally got this, trust me bro!" Spoiler Alert: They did not have it. Literally all of Mydei's deaths in 3.0 happened because of his crippling inability to say no to Phainon. But this is not a shipping post. I promise.)

Anyway, in one of the only examples we have of Mydei possibly being impulsive on his own, the note from the bath manager that reports someone charging into the baths to ask who the strongest warrior in Okhema is, the actual implication is that Mydei had no idea how poorly the Okhemans would take that (nor their obsession with debate which would be sparked), and his faux pas comes less from being immature and more from the cultural discrepancy between Okhema and Kremnos, as the Kremnoan in the note finds Mydei's behavior perfectly normal.

In fact, instead of being an unruly youth, Mydei is criticized by other characters several times in the story specifically for choosing to hold back and think things through before committing himself to a decision. If anything, he's closer to indecisive (or at least slow to decide) than he is to impulsive.

Now, don't get me wrong. The game tells us repeatedly that Mydei does get competitive as hell once Phainon actually manages to convince him to join in on the shenanigans. Of course Mydei likes to win. But the notion that Mydei is Phainon's equally impulsive rival, actively issuing his own challenges, goading his frenemy into new contests, and particularly motivated to keep one-upping Phainon? It's really more of an informed trait and a fandom cliche (red and blue rivals, the people cannot resist) than anything actually shown in the game.

At the risk of perhaps inserting too much of my own interpretation here, I'm inclined to say that Mydei's willingness to engage in Phainon's dumb competitions is less brash rivalry and much closer to "Guy who never had the chance to be an impulsive youth cautiously allowing himself the privilege of feeling carefree for ten minutes or so."

It's not that Mydei is actually that driven to assert his dominance or is particularly impetuous when left to his own devices--it's that he never before had a long enough period of peace where he was safe enough to act childish. If he ever had competitions in his past, they almost certainly would have been like "Who can murder the most enemy soldiers with their bare hands today?" In Okhema, Mydei can participate in sauna-offs.

Mydei isn't as (deliberately performatively) silly as Phainon. He's nowhere near as impulsive as Phainon is. He's not really that fixated on being a rival. But he is a pretty great partner in crime. He does allow himself to be drawn into Phainon's schemes over and over, because well... they're obviously fun for him. He gets into the competitions once they're in motion, even if he complains about them at the start. Mydei's life has been criminally devoid of light-hearted joys and normalcy, and being led into trouble that doesn't result in people literally dying on him--harmless trouble--is probably an extreme novelty for Mydei. Basically what I'm saying is, he isn't going to propose the Jackass competition, but he is going to fold like paper the moment said competition is suggested.

Case in point: In 3.0, there's a second where you can actually hear him regretting his life choices, trying so hard to convince himself that he is above Phainon's weird antics, but... in the end, he can't help himself. When Phainon starts LARPing with the Trailblazer during the titankin competition, Mydei's first reaction is essentially "Oh my god, this is so cringe," but just two lines later... look who joins the LARPing.

This nerddddd.

When left alone, Mydei withdraws from the world. Trailblazer typically finds him locked in silent contemplation, rejecting visitors, up on his own private corner of the rooftops. On his own, Mydei is significantly less likely to seek out trouble, cause public disturbances, or become a (usually accidental) nuisance compared to half the other Chrysos Heirs.

But when the company around him makes him feel comfortable, he is willing to engage with life in the childish ways he was never free to before. His "rivalry" with Phainon is better understood not as a macho dude-bro need to assert superiority, but as just one of the most obvious manifestations of Mydei's desire to experience the life he never got to live, to let himself be the kind of person who can just do silly things and cause dumb messes.

Mydei isn't a particularly impulsive person--but sometimes he lets himself try it out. As a treat.

Okay, last note for now:

5. Mind Your Manners

While it might be tempting to see Phainon and Mydei's competitions as the peak of Mydei's comedic contribution in the story, I think the actual funniest aspect of Mydei's character is the game's running gag about his manners.

Yes, Castrum Kremnos is a savage nation that revels in death and is rumored to drink the blood of their enemies--but they still keep it classy, damn it! Sure Mydei might have grown up as a half-feral sea beast and then a homeless, wandering exile subsisting off the land, but sometimes he literally can't help it--the aristocracy just jumps right out of him.

No, I'm not joking. Mydei really does have the prim and proper manners of a blue-blooded royal.

We see this from his first appearance in the game. A character's first scene is generally their establishing moment, the devs' chance to give players a strong starting impression--which makes it so telling that one of the first things out of Mydei's mouth is a insult to Phainon's manners.

This is a direct and pointed critique, suggesting Phainon has neglected his duties as a host by relying on his "guests" as back up in the battle. In the context of Amphoreus's historical inspirations, this is actually a very serious scolding: hospitality was a big, big deal in ancient Greece, and the idea of forcing foreign guests into serving you before affording them proper welcome and rest, let alone actively endangering them, would literally be considered an affront to the gods.

With this one short line, the devs are impressing the extreme difference in social status between Mydei and Phainon: Phainon is effectively a "country bumpkin," a member of a lower class who doesn't know how to (or perhaps just doesn't care to?) properly practice the civil gestures of the upper rungs of Amphorean society. Mydei, on the other hand, not only knows the proper rituals of etiquette but expects those rituals to be upheld by others. He's basically calling Phainon a mannerless peasant in one of his first lines of dialogue, which is why Phainon gets so grumpy for the rest of the conversation lol.

We see Mydei's inclination towards proper decorum in several other places as well. As a prince, he's entitled to respect and deference, and while we might be inclined to say "Mydei isn't the type to enforce his royal status over others," the game itself shows us that... Mydei kind of does expect people to treat him differently.

Just as one small starting example, I know it's somewhat popular to have Mydei deny his royal status in fanfics, such as telling people not to call him by his titles or acting as if he has no connection to the upper class, but this doesn't actually happen in the game. Mydei introduces himself to the Trailblazer from the start as Castrum Kremnos's crown prince, consistently thinks of himself (such as in mission journal text) as a prince, and is largely referred to as "the crown prince" or "your highness" by everyone outside the Chrysos Heirs, including all of the Okhemans:

In fact, I'd go so far as to argue that Mydei takes his role as a prince very seriously and does not remotely deny the responsibility he bears toward his people. It's important to him to fulfill his duty to the Kremnoans, so rather than downplaying his role as their prince, he seems to acknowledge it freely, working to serve as a principled leader as best he can.

In short, Mydei is aware of his status--and he expects everyone else will be aware of it too.

I don't mean this in a bad way at all; he's not rude or pompous about it--rather, I think this is a subconscious aspect of his character. Mydei has spent many of his formative years with his people putting him on a ridiculously tall pedestal. He's spent at least a decade as the leader of a group that basically worships the ground he walks on; the Kremnoans obviously aggressively follow the social protocols of their very traditional culture, which seems to include somewhat blind adoration of their kings. Even if Mydei wanted the Kremnoans to treat him as "just another one of the people," there's almost zero chance they would do so. It would likely go against their nature to even ask that of them. Ergo, Mydei's almost certainly spent his entire adult life as the recipient of his people's extreme respect--and their strict adherence to proper social protocols around their prince.

Because of this, Mydei does have specific (if likely subconscious) expectations for "how people will behave around me," and we players get to see several humorous moments where other characters in the story violate Mydei's understanding of how princes should be treated:

In a particularly infamous memory crystal, we see one of Phainon and Mydei's early interactions, with Phainon inserting himself in Mydei's presence and starting up a conversation Mydei obviously did not expect. This is such a faux pas that only someone like Phainon could have had the audacity to thoughtlessly do it; he basically hop-skip-jumped about twelve rungs on the social ladder to waylay a royal without seeking an audience--and Mydei is clearly taken aback to be approached so casually and without preamble. Although Mydei doesn't actually say it (because doing so would be rude, of course), Phainon himself awkwardly ends up acknowledging that Mydei is trying hard to end their conversation:

It's not because Mydei dislikes Phainon already, but because the act of walking up on a stranger--especially a stranger who is a prince!--and assuming such a degree of familiarity as to comment on his body of all things would be so beyond the pale of appropriate social behavior that even Mydei hardly seems to know how to respond at first.

We see this same completely (or perhaps willfully) oblivious to social protocol behavior from Phainon numerous times throughout the 3.0 and 3.1 quests, and Mydei's affronted reactions are always pretty priceless. You can almost hear him thinking "The audacity!"

The exact same face my conservative grandma makes when I accidentally drop an F bomb in front of her.

Blatantly asking a prince to praise you when you haven't earned it? Scandalous.

But Phainon isn't the only person who can provoke these offended responses from Mydei while pushing the prince's boundaries with bad manners. Trailblazer hilariously earns themself a few critiques about their lack of courtesy too:

And even Aglaea triggers a haughty response???

(Sure, we could give Mydei the benefit of the doubt here and say he's talking about himself and Phainon, but honestly? I think this English translation at least lends itself to the possibility of a different take as well: Bro got so embarrassed over being caught acting a fool that THE ROYAL "WE" just burst straight out of him lmaoooo. I mean, come on, he wouldn't be saying Phainon has a formidable presence while laying on the ground like an idiot, right? It's the royal we, I'm telling y'all. 😂)

In another humorous example, in the animation where Mydei plays with children, the "princess" in the play criticizes Mydei for not being very good at princely behaviors like Okheman waltzing, which immediately results in... Mydei seeking dance lessons from Tribbie so he can improve himself. Princes can't be caught slacking!

(But hilariously enough, as a sidenote, Mydei's dance ability seems to be another case of culture gap: One of the other children in Okhema, the one who was taught about Kremnoan traditions by Mydei, is actually quick to inform us that Mydei may not be familiar with Okheman dances--but he does know all about Anastenaria dancing!)

(Mydei might not fit the standards for an Okheman prince, but he's killing it as a Kremnoan one!)

Anyway, being serious again: Although it's quite funny the dev team insists so much that Mydei, despite being prince of a nation of savage warriors, is nonetheless a prince, with all the trappings of prim and proper etiquette, I think it also says a lot about Mydei's character that he does try to follow social protocols so closely. He apologizes for rudeness. He minds how he speaks to others. He is precise and forthright and always honors his word. Hell, he even politely makes prior arrangements if he knows he's going to be late to an event.

Mydei is self-aware enough to know his status. He knows the weight of that status, and he knows what his status means to his people. He takes the responsibility seriously and bears the role to the best of his ability, striving to meet the Kremnoans' expectations of a "crown prince" even as he can't bring himself to truly align with their core beliefs. He is trying his best to carry himself as a leader should, complete with his commitment to honor the traditional expectations and social class systems of both Kremnos and Okhema.

Despite his rough start in life, Mydei has accepted his people's intense respect and adapted himself to become someone worthy of commanding that respect. Social graces may not have come naturally to him after a childhood completely outside of humanity's reach, but Mydei nevertheless has worked hard to become a cultured person who embodies the demeanor and decorum of a sole surviving prince.

Although it's played for laughs, it's also played quite straight throughout Amphoreus's story: Manners matter to Mydei--both in himself and in others.

Anyway, since I still have more notes I jotted down about Mydei's characterization, here is some other stuff:

Part 2, over here ->

[justagirlswrld]

Thousand year old, sexy, space princess seeks companionship! must be hot!

a/n: i told you i was a mark grayson groupie.

warnings: unprotected p in v. humanoid!reader. stuff that happens in sex happens in this. porn w plot.

part two

“….Mark, why is there a purple…guy outside your window?”, Mark doesn’t look up from the Seance dog comic at the sound of Will’s confused voice, choosing to roll his brown eyes instead.

“Yeah, funny.”, Mark replies in an airy tone.

“No, Mark i’m ser-”, Rick cuts his boyfriend off as he walks through the front door of the apartment, “Why is there a purple man outside of the living room window?”, This finally gets Mark’s attention, he looks over at the window in question and his eyes grow triple their size.

Mark is in his suit in less than a second, comic thrown onto the couch he was just relaxing on. He floats over to the window, taking in the short, stocky….lavender man that flies just outside the apartment on deep, amethyst wings.

Mark opens the window roughly and the man scampers back, he didn’t plan on hurting the creature but it seemed like someone always wanted to fight on his days off.

Mark flies out the large window, he dwarfs the…man easily. He has an uneasy smile on his face, Mark notices that his mouth is filled with long canines and he tries not to grimace. “I’m not helping any….fairies today. so, leave.” With that Mark turns his back on him, a strong hand grasps his shoulder. In an instant Mark is zooming into the afternoon sky, holding the lilac haired creature by the collar of his thin shirt.

His purple skin now has a slight gleam from his nervous sweat. “I’m not a fairy, I come from the planet-“, Mark cuts him off, “I don’t care. Now go.”, Mark releases the being and hovers in front of him but he doesn’t budge. Mark rubs a gloved hand down his face in frustration.

”Mark Gray-“, Mark cuts him off instantly, “My name is Invincible when i’m in this suit. What do you want?”

The alien nods, “Invincible, please. I haven’t come to harm you…my planet needs your help.” Mark groans inwardly, why was it always on his day off.

The mysterious man goes on to explain how another evil alien race has come to conquer his kingdom. He paints a picture of his beautiful world being annihilated and his people being slaughtered without Mark’s help. “I’ve left it in ruins, Invincible. I’m scared I may be the only Solorian left.”

Mark points to a near by patch of forest in exasperation, “Wait there.” He flies back inside without waiting to see if the creature followed his instructions.

With major convincing from Will and Rick, Mark ends up not ghosting the…Solorian waiting in the woods. When Mark floats down through the trees to the hard ground, he’s sitting on a log with a happy expression on his face.

“Where’s your planet?”, Mark’s tone is serious, he really wanted to be back in time to watch the newest episode of this show he’d been tuning into.

The thing stands, brushing the dirt from his odd pants. Mark notices that he’s dressed like a jester, save for the pointy hat.

“It’s many galaxies from Earth, it usually takes a year to get there,-“ Mark makes a sound as he begins to protest but the man continues talking as he pulls a small, metal disc from his pocket. “But with our technology it’ll only take a minute.”

He throws the disc on the ground with his knobby fingers and its turns into a circular pad. Mark and his traveling companion step on and become engulfed in a pale yellow light. Mark only has time to blink before he’s whisked away, landing on what he assumes to be cobblestone streets.

Mark surveys his surroundings as the man picks up his transporter. There’s winged humanoids dressed almost…medievally everywhere, no one lounges as the planet’s two suns beat down on their backs.

He watches as children with skin in arrays of colors play in the waterfall and clear, blue stream. He has to crane his neck to look at the behemoth of a castle in front of him.

“This doesn’t look like ruins.”, Mark’s eyes shift as he waits for assailants to pop out from behind the thatched roofed shacks that line the street.

“Because I lied to you invincible. Walk with me and i’ll explain.”

They glide towards the castle slowly, the man, Edolan, explains that their princess refuses to marry one of her arranged suitors after hearing of his exploits on earth. They go up winding stair cases before they stop in front of a room with large, oval doors. “She says she must….meet you, before she marries.”, Edolan explains with his hands held behind his back.

“You know you could’ve said that”, is all Mark can think to say in response. Edolan nods, “Yes, I apologize for deceiving you but I had to make it seem urgent in a way you’d understand.” Edolan waves a hand and the doors creek open, “The princess is waiting for you. When you’re finished she will give you passage home the same way you came.”

And he’s gone.

When Invincible glides into your expansive room you’re draped over your canopied bed, idly playing with some alien device.

Mark wasn’t sure what he’d be dealing with when he came through the doors but he damn sure wasn’t expecting you to be pretty…beautiful even. You’re as humanoid as the rest of your subjects save for the blush pink skin and hot pink hair.

You look up at the young man standing a few feet away from you. You lick your lips and Mark is happy to notice that your mouth isn’t filled with razor sharp teeth but human like ones instead.

“Mark Grayson of Earth!”, You greet him, cheeks stretched into a wide smile. Mark blushes as you rise from a lying position to a sitting one, noticing that your breasts are only covered in a thin, bralette of shiny jewels.

“Uh-Hi, you can just call me Mark.” You rise to stand on your bed now as you mimic someone fighting, “Or Invincible! Defender of Earth and slayer of beasts and villains.”

Mark wants to argue that he doesn’t slay villains but nods his head in agreement instead, trying to end this odd experience as soon as possible.

“Right….and you’re Y/N, Solorian princess who refuses to marry until you met me…,”Mark rips his mask off, exposing his handsome face to your eyes, “Will you marry the guy now?” Your eyebrows scrunch together and your lips form a pout. Mark thinks that it’s probably the sexiest expression he’s ever seen.

“That was not the agreement. I have yet to lay with you.”, You say from your place on the bed. If Mark had been drinking something he would’ve spit it out in astonishment.

“Lay with you?”, Mark asks in a shocked tone. You laugh at the expression on the boys face, if he pushes his eyebrows any higher they’ll be on the cathedral like ceilings of your room.

“Yes, Mark Grayson. The promise was that I would finally marry an arranged suitor, saving our planet from war, if you bedded me first.” You lay back down on your large mattress as you wait for the superhero to collect himself.

Mark swallows, he’s not sure if he’s turned on or scared. Probably both. “Um, don’t princesses have to be virgins when they get married?”, you cock your head to the side like a confused dog, “I’m not familiar with the word- virgins.” The word sounds jumbled when it passes your perfect lips.

“It means you never- laid with anyone. On Earth princesses usually save themselves for their husband or their virtue or something.”

You throw your head back and laugh loudly, it’s closer to a howl really. “What a sad life these Earth princesses live. As a Solorian we live for many, many years. I am 1,000 years old, just a baby I know-,“ Mark doesn’t reply as you continue, “And I would never be asked to be a…virkin. Solorian’s find virtue in other ways than saving yourself.” You almost look disgusted as you finish your rant.

Your mind goes back to the task at hand. You unclasp the jewels from your upper and bottom half, positioning yourself so Mark can see your naked body well. You watch as his strong throat bobs.

“Will you lay with me Mark Grayson?”

Mark feels like he might combust on the spot as he nods, more excited than he hoped. He walks to the edge of the bed and sits nervously, palming himself through his suit. “On Earth we usually go on a date first.” He laughs awkwardly, willing himself to get hard. He just couldn’t get out of his head to do so.

“We are not on Earth, Mark.” You slither up his back, breasts pressing against the hard muscles. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you press soft kisses to his neck. He groans but when he palms himself again there’s nothing. Mark is perplexed on why because you were super hot and he never had this problem before. It must be how weird the situation is.

You notice the mental battle and stop kissing his neck. “Are you well?”, he nods again and you notice him palming himself. You giggle, the sound so close to his ear that it has his heart speeding up again. “You can’t ‘get it up’? As they would say on Earth”, Mark’s torn between defending himself and asking where you learned that from but chooses silence instead when you slink between his legs.

You make yourself comfortable on your pink knees and look up at him through your lashes with big doe eyes. Mark has an instant semi.

He’s rock hard by the time you slip him out of his suit and into your warm mouth. You suck unabashedly on his thick, cock hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his angry tip.

“Shhhhiiiiiittt”, Mark moans with his hand tangled in your vibrant hair, hanging on for dear life as you bob up and down his member. “St-Stop i’m gonna-.” Mark trails off, his eyes almost roll back when you choke around his length, gobbling the throbbing cock down your throat.

He finally wrestles your mouth off his cock and he takes a moment to collect himself as he breathes heavily. Mark leans down and kisses you sloppily, he tweaks your nipples hoping that it’ll do something to stimulate you sexually. Luckily it works and you moan lowly in his mouth.

Mark picks you up by your arm pits and tosses you on the bed, you laugh, “Yes! Show me your strength, invincible.” His name is sultry as it falls out your lips, causing a shudder to creep down his spine.

He flips you over roughly by your ankle then pulls you to the edge of the large bed. Mark manhandles you until your face is pressed into your thick blankets with your round ass in the air. When Mark’s tongue pushes its way between your folds you’re a moaning mess.

Mark slowly licks from your wet cunt up to your puckered hole, repeating the motion over and over again. You close your eyes tightly as your moans fill the great space of your bedroom. He uses his skilled fingers to search for your clit, praying that Solorian’s have one. When he finally finds the nub he sucks on it harshly, causing you to cry out and fall on your stomach.

Mark lets out a huff behind you, voice raspy from his previous moaning, “If you want to lay with me princess, you have to keep your back arched.” You do as he says and he continues making a mess of you with his tongue, adding two, slender fingers into your pulsating heat.

When you feel Mark’s bulbous head rubbing against your tight entrance you release a sound akin to a purr. He pushes into you slowly, inch by veiny inch until his hips are flush against your backside.

You call out for him when he pulls out of you and he answers with a moan of his own when he pushes his length back into your tight walls. Mark starts at a slow rhythm that has you moaning with each pointed thrust, still you throw your ass back to meet each one.

Mark’s pace becomes brutal and you struggle to keep up with his pounding hips. One of his large hands slides up your back and wraps securely around your neck. His full lips leaving kisses in its wake. His other hand goes between your bodies to your engorged nub, rubbing slick circles as he continues to pound in and out of you.

Your toes curl so hard that you feel like they may break when Mark hits a deep, spongy spot in your cunt. You call out his name as you come, body going completely still then slumping to your stomach. Mark continues to fuck into your spent cunt, groans turning to moans. Mark pulls out and releases warm come on your lower back and ass cheek.

He lays on his back beside you, both of you two breathing too hard to say anything to one another.

When Mark walks through his apartment door Will is waiting for him, coffee cup in hand as the early morning light peaks through the bay window. Will’s eyes go wide when he takes in his best friend, “Mark! Where have you been? Do you realize you’ve been gone for three months?!”

Mark sits down at the granite island, smiling to himself as he begins to tell his best friend about the alien pussy he had to force himself to leave.

[robo-writing]

Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail—

You’d never stoop so low as to say you have a favorite part of Logan—he’s your boyfriend after all, you love him for all his faults and features. There isn’t a single thing you could ever definitively point out and say “that’s my favorite.”

However, if you had to choose—

“Christ doll, you’re lookin’ at me like a starving dog,” he says with a smug. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You’ve been waiting for him to come back from training all day, sitting on the couch practically counting the seconds. The training session he just came from must have been intense; shirt off, his entire torso glistening with sweat—his happy trail on full display.

You don’t even pretend to be ashamed, blatantly staring at the lovely trail of hair that starts from his belly and moves further down to where the rest is covered by a pair of low-hanging jeans. You’re forcefully pulled from your ogling, hand at your chin, removing your attention from his beautiful patch of hair to his face.

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare,” He whispers. His eyes hold only bad intentions, and you’re happy to oblige, leaning into his touch.

“Kinda wanna do more than just stare,” you whisper back.

His thumb reaches to stroke your cheek. You enjoy the soft touch, hands wandering closer to his torso to stroke the hair that’s been tempting you since he walked through the door, until he catches them in his own with a shake of his head.

“Baby, you know that’s bad manners,” He lets your face go and hooks his thumbs below his belt line, pulling his jeans down even further, exposing the veins that start to run from his v-line.

“If you want to touch, ask nicely.”

The words leave your lips embarrassingly fast. “Can I touch you? Please?”

Your thighs are rubbing together, hands at your side obediently. When he nods his head you reach forward, sliding your hands across his hot skin, nails scratching lightly with each pass, the softest groans escaping Logan with each touch.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Take what you want.”

Spurred on by his words you pull his pants down, boxers strained by the visible outline of his cock. Feeling mischievous, you place a kiss through the fabric, smile widening as you feel it twitch between your plump lips. He hisses in response, fingers curling around your hair.

“Don’t be a tease, or else I’ll leave you here all by yourself,” he says, tugging your head slightly. “We got a deal?”

You couldn’t say no if you tried, so pent up just the sound of his voice gets you riled up. “Promise, just lemme have a taste, I’ll behave.”

He mumbles something under his breath, tugging himself free. Pretty and pink, his cock in full view, still every bit as beautiful no matter how many times you see it. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, tracing every vein with excitement, a smile on your face as he strokes your hair.

“Just needed a taste, is that it?” He groans, rubbing his shiny tip against your lips. “Just needed your boyfriend’s fat cock in your mouth, didn’t you?”

You moan in response, opening your mouth as he feeds you what you’ve been waiting for. Slowly, gently, your tongue massaging the salty skin, inch by inch. Your hand reaches up to scratch at his happy trail and you can feel his cock twitch in response, a gruff laugh vibrating from his chest.

“Oh fuck me, you’re evil,” he sighs. You give him another scratch in response, enjoying the pre-cum that coats your tongue after.

The size of him never fails to make you work for it, heavy against your tongue as your spit runs down your chin. The sounds you make are lewd, sloppy—his fingers push your head further, forcing you to make more. One hand reaches to fondle his balls, the other still resting against his pubes. The feeling leaves Logan breathless, involuntarily thrusting against the wet heat of your mouth.

There’s only a single thread of self-control stopping him from grabbing your head with both hands and fucking your mouth, and you needed it cut yesterday. You force his hands into your hair, stare up at him with your best bedroom eyes, then lap at his balls.

His reaction is heavenly—eyes rolled back, hips stuttering, stomach sucked in as he calls your name.

“Darlin’ you’re gonna kill me,” he huffs, taking your head in his heads. Your lips return to the head of his cock, suckling at his sensitive tip when his fingers tighten in your hair.

You see his eyes darken, your only warning coming in the form of a command. “Keep your mouth open for me doll.”

Your pussy throbs, tongue unraveled as every inch of him slips past your lips and into your throat. Your eyes roll at the feeling, nose touching that oh-so-divine hair that got you here in the first place.

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” he grunts, “Ready for me?”

You moan your approval around his thick length, then gag as he makes good on his word. Every thrust has your hands bracing against his thick thighs, forced to do everything in your power not to choke. Your eyes water, nose full of his musky scent, drool pooling down your chest so much that it leaves a stain against your shirt.

Your brain is filled with nothing but Logan—his taste, his smell, the sound of his moans—it sends your body into overdrive, grinding against the fabric of the couch as he continues to use you for his own pleasure. You’re almost certain you’re leaving a stain against the pillows.

“Real desperate for it huh?” He hisses, using your mouth as a toy. “Gonna cum just like this ain’t you?”

Your lust-addled brain can’t even begin to form a response, but Logan smiles at your fucked-out expression anyway. He doesn’t need you to confirm what he already knows.

When he comes it’s with a shout, leaving you choking against his cock as you struggle to swallow it all. What you can’t runs from the sides of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and seed. You greedily gulp down air, a cock-drunk smile plastered against your features as you kiss at his softening cock, then bury your face and nuzzle again his happy trail, tasting the sweat that lingers. The sticky feeling between your legs makes you think at some point you came, pussy still throbbing with that familiar aftershock.

You look like hell, but damn it if you aren’t satisfied—hair a mess, spit and cum staining your skin, tears running down your cheeks—Logan thinks you’re beautiful like this.

“I know vacuums that got less suction than you, fucking hell,” Logan says, still out of breath from what was most certainly a mind-blowing orgasm. He leans down to kiss at your cum-stained lips, messy and unoriented. “Hope you’re ready for me to return the favor princess, because we ain’t finished.”

[ohsoimaginari]

painful reminders || jwy

synopsis: in which your boyfriend undergoes a cramp simulator

cw: fluff, crack, established relationship, intended as a nonidol!au but can be read otherwise, periods, one mention of vomiting, brief mentioned of a period from hell, absolute theatrics, reader calls wooyoung youngie, one jagi used i think?, fem!reader, boyfriend!wooyoung

words: 2641

edited but nobody’s perfect ~.~

an: this is absolutely ridiculous. i cannot stress this enough.

it

is

ridiculous

but i have no regrets. had sm fun writing it. okay let’s continue ^•^

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Having to deal with period cramps is arguably one of the top five most painful experiences one has to go through every month or so. You’re sure many agree. And for you, most times on the first and last day, they would absolutely wreak havoc, as if your uterus was out for vengeance.

There would be nothing more you could bring yourself to do than to curl up in a tight ball with a heating pad on your lower abdomen, the strongest painkillers you could find in your system and a whole lot of hoping and crying that it would end soon. And that was when they were being courteous.

It was an awful time, truly despicable and without mercy in every way and you dreaded each time your period drew closer and closer. Which is why you don’t understand why your boyfriend, Wooyoung, would ever want to experience something akin to that.

“What?”

You stared at your boyfriend dumbfounded as he held out the unthinkable machine to you. “It’s a period simulator. I ordered it online. There’s so many of them so it was a little confusing choosing the best one but a lot of people say this one’s the closest to the real thing.”

You blinked. Then again, mouth slightly agape as you continued to look at him with a mix of disbelief and horror.

You shook your head as if to clear your already existing thoughts to make room for better processing of the words that had come out of his mouth.

“So, let me get this straight,” you started slowly.

“You want me—“ you made a point to gesture to yourself for further emphasis—“to put these patches on you—“ you pointed at him—“so that they can simulate period cramps?”

Wooyoung nodded as if you had asked him any other mundane question that required his active response.

“Yes.”

You paused, processing his answer but it still refusing to register in your brain.

“You want to feel how period cramps feel?”

“Yes,” he simply answered again.

You still couldn’t believe what you’d heard was true, trying to convince yourself it had to be some sort of fever dream.

Once I wake up, I have to remember to drink my vitamin C, you thought because that was the only explanation you could think of.

“Willingly?”

“Yes,” he said.

Too calmly.

Too honestly.

He had no sense of apprehension to him, no sense of doubt. He was sure, so sure it bewildered you. What on earth could have possibly possessed him?

You pictured him sitting in front of his laptop and searching for the contraption in the first place, typing in the letters to form the words period pain simulator, and reading through every review for each product meticulously. How many of these products or reviews there were in the first place, you didn’t know.

Did you even want to know?

“Why?” Your question came out a lot more exasperated than you had intended. You didn’t mean for it to happen, you were simply too puzzled to fully comprehend the situation at hand.

He smiled at you sheepishly, his smile managing to dazzle you for a bit, only adding on to your current bewilderment.

“Well, I see how much they affect you and I’ve heard stories of how awful they can feel and I’ve always been a bit more curious. It’s my way of trying to understand you better.”

Your heart swelled but that still didn’t change the fact this was an odd, albeit slightly amusing now, request. You simpered, nearly giving in but still willing to talk him out of him. “Youngie, you don’t have to do this to understand me better. What you do already is more than enough.”

Wooyoung simply shrugged, clearly determined to go through with his plan no matter what you’d say to him.

“You’ve told me you’ve experienced them while doing normal things. I just want to know how bad it could get.” You sighed, admitting defeat.

“Okay. If you insist. But remember, this was your idea,” you responded a little reluctantly. You eyed him with hesitation drawn on your face from the encouraging words he gave you as he handed you the machine and you examined it.

It was similar to the blood pressure monitors you’ve seen before but instead of one sleeve, it had for small patches you had to paste onto your lower abdomen.

You read the instructions carefully before proceeding to paste them onto yours first.

“I’ll put them on first so I can give you an accurate-ish experience of mine.”

You were doubtful this would even come close to the real thing but anything to humour your boyfriend who was enthusiastically encouraging you to proceed, still no qualms about his own future experience with the machine on show.

You eyed him strangely before looking at the screen. There was a giant 0 in the middle that would go all the way up to ten and another graphic of a bar beside it to better illustrate the intensity level. You pressed start, bracing yourself to experience these godforsaken cramps when you weren’t even close to your time of the month.

You wondered if you could even accurately remember them because as soon as you were finished with your period, it was as if you had no recollection of the torment you had gone through.

But when the intensity was on level one and you felt that slight tug in your abdomen, you knew you would have no problem remembering.

The first two stages were not so intense, as expected and you told him so. “This is usually just before my period starts or the day before, warning be that it could start any day now. So not too bad. I think you’ll be fine.”

He nodded fervently. You couldn’t tell anymore whether it was from excitement or nerves.

The machine automatically cranked itself up to three and the pain slightly intensified but still bearable. This was reminiscent of the pain you’d experience on the day you were meant to start. Still nothing bad.

By four, you could clearly feel them and were shocked at how accurate they actually were. “It’s not too bad but this is around the time where I should start making sure I have the equipment I’ll need because it only gets worse from here.”

You could’ve sworn you saw him gulp and his expression was now a lot tamer, as if it was finally dawning on him what he would have to go through.

“Remember, you don’t have to do this,” you reminded him as the pain heightened to six. It was nothing you couldn’t really handle but around the time where you have to make sure your heating bad is prepared and you’ve already taken a painkiller.

He paled when you tell him this but still persisted.

Seven, you told him, was when you’re waiting for the painkiller to kick in but it’s unbearable now and eight is when it’s on your worst days; where your hunched over from the pain, gripping fiercely at whatever was in reach and tears threatening to run down your cheeks. You’ve only ever experienced a nine twice in your life—where you felt so much pain you vomited on both occasions but you wouldn’t let it get that far.

Even you had your limits.

You only had to sit down at eight but was still going strong enough to narrate your experience for him. “Eight is usually the limit. It’s around there where I have to lie down or sit down and wait for it to subside but after I’ve taken my painkillers it lasts around fifteen to twenty minutes so it’s not that bad.”

Wooyoung had grown silent by this time but he seemed a bit encouraged by your vocalisations for each round.

It didn’t stop you from worrying for him.

He helped you put on the patches on himself in the correct spots and stood comically rigid, his back as straight as a ruler and fists clenched on either side.

You snorted.

“We really don’t have to do this. It’s good enough you help me through my time but you don’t have to actually feel what I feel.”

“No, no, no,” het lets out quickly, shaking his hands in protest and trying his best to steel his nerves.

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.”

You sighed before preparing yourself, and him, to press start.

“You ready?” He didn’t respond with words anymore, simply aggressively nods and clenches his jaw.

You pressed the button and at the sound of the click, he screamed.

You immediately stopped and attended to him, concerned. “Are you okay? Did it hurt already?”

If that was the case, you weren’t even sure you’d make it past three.

Wooyoung sheepishly laughed and dismissed his reaction. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I’m sorry. No, continue. I’m ready now.”

You proceeded to press the button a little more suspiciously and cautiously than the first one, your worry only growing.

You saw on the screen the intensity was at level one and the only thing he’d done so far was slightly jolt from the pain. He assured you he was okay and that you should continue.

It steadily jumped from two until three. Wooyoung released an unrestrained curse that startled you but you couldn’t help your giggle. “Are you okay?”

Words had evaded him as he clutched on his lower half but gave you a thumbs up to show he was still fine.

By the time it reached four, more than you what you thought he would handle, his whole face had surprisingly turned a bright red and you could see small sweat beads forming on his forehead. Wooyoung had his eyes clothes tights and he had the same expression like when he was lighting heavy weights.

“Jagi, you have to breathe, okay? You have to breathe or you’ll pass out.”

Your concern was mixed with amusement and as much as you wanted to switch it off, you couldn’t help but find a little bit of sadistic humour at his reaction.

At number five, he let out such a yelp it took you by surprise and you almost dropped the machine but found your bearings soon enough.

His screaming wouldn’t stop now.

You tried to speak to him over the noise but you highly doubted he could hear you but you had to still try.

But before you could speak, Wooyoung fell onto all fours and cursed louder than before. “Should I stop?” You asked him, a bit startled as he crawled on the floor in what was obviously excruciating pain for him.

He shook his head once more (although not as convincing as the other times) but was now full on sweating.

By seven, the most peculiar thing happened: he began to undress.

“Hot…hot…” was all he could manage out as he took off the black t-shirt he’d worn which, if it were a different colour, you were sure would most likely be drenched in sweat.

You knew then that you had to make a quick executive decision and you switched the machine off.

His ragged breathing filled the air, as if he had run a marathon and he looked over at you with a dazed look.

“Why’d you…why’d you stop?” he croaked. “Because you would’ve died and how would I explain to your mom you died from period cramps?”

His haggard breathing continued as he stood up. “I was fine. I could still go on.”

He fanned himself and you scoffed.

“No, you couldn’t,” you said and gave him a sympathetic grin.

Once he’d regained his breath, he looked over to you with a newfound admiration in his eyes. “You stood there and spoke to me throughout that entire thing when it was your turn.”

You nodded.

“I’ve seen you do your chores after you’ve told me you had cramps.”

You nodded again. “I mean, they have to get done eventually right?”

He shook his head, still in utter disbelief. “You spoke to me. You’ve walked around, done your chores and have gone to work…while that was happening to your body?” His voice was tinged with incredulity and respect. You gave him another amused smile and nodded.

“Yes, Youngie. That happens while I carry on with my day. It only really gets immobilising around level ei—“

Before you could finish, he pulled you into a tight hug. You giggled into his arms before putting your own around him.

“I love you. I don’t know how you do it but I’m so proud of you.”

“For cramps?” You looked up at him with scrunched eyebrows.

“For enduring. But I promise you as long as I’m here, even when I’m not, I’ll find a way to make the whole experience a lot more bearable for you. No one deserves to go through that.” He suddenly poured, as if deep in thought. “I wish there was a way I could help everyone,” he mumbled under his breath.

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but said nothing more.

As if suddenly struck with another realisation, he brightened.

“My mom! My mom’s probably gone through that too! I have to go call my mom and apologise to her!”

Before you could even ask him what exactly it was he was apologising for, Wooyoung had already gone in search of his phone.

You carefully repackaged the machine into the box it came in and prepared to store it when you overheard his conversation with his mom on the phone.

"...And I promise I'll continue to be an even better son that you deserve, mom. I'm sorry for the headaches I've given you. The pain you've already been through is enough, I shouldn't have added on. I love you, mom."

You stifled your giggles as you placed the box in a safe location, hopefully far from Wooyoung's reach again.

When you returned to where he was, he looked dejected. You raised your eyebrows and sat next to him, ruffling his hair. Usually he'd shoo your hand away with more vigor but he only did so weakly this time.

"What's wrong?"

He turned to you with a pout. "My mom. she hung up on me. She asked what I was going on about and then I told her and even told her I loved her but she hung up on me."

You covered your snort with a sudden cough before cooing at him and bringing in him for a hug, hopefully hiding your expression.

"You have to understand it's not everyday you hear your son tell you he willingly experienced something most women hate going through." Wooyoung sighed but cuddled into you more. Just then, his phone pinged and he picked it up, reading the message he'd received and then smiled.

"It's my mom. She says she loves me too and that I should take care of myself and you."

He pocketed his phone and pulled you closer to him again, his mood much lighter than previously, even if you knew he wasn’t all too displeased about his mom’s earlier reaction.

“I promise you and her that you’ll never have to worry about me again. Especially on your period. Or worry about your period, actually. I still can’t believe that happens every month. Every month?”

You chuckled but nodded your head as your boyfriend went on about the unfairness of it all and how he’ll do anything in his power to make sure yours go by smoothly from now on.

And he did.

He insisted on being included on your period tracker and now every time your first or last day near, you always have some painkillers, chocolate and a heating pad waiting nearby and a helpful boyfriend who’s ever so eager to give you any type of message you might like.

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an: i’m gonna try to be consistent with at least one post per month again but i’m back in school rn and the workload is ungodly but i’ll try my best!! anyways i know this might be completely ridiculous but i’ve always wanted to do this prompt with someone and wooyoung seemed perfect for it lol i’ll write something better and more serious for him one of these good days i promise!! okay enough of me rambling bye for now <3

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Circus

I've been wanting to draw some of my dolls for the longest time and this turned out to be my most detailed artwork so far :') And since I really love the circus, I thought I could turn this into an interactive story, too. Let me know what you think! Based on classic stock characters from Italian theatre, Commedia dell'arte. Content: gender neutral reader, horror, dark comedy, human and monster romance

You're finally here! Come on in, don't be afraid. Where is everyone else, you ask? Why, you're our only special guest, Darling (Y/N). This is all for you. Come, do not upset the Ringmaster. We will show you everything.

A night carnival? You've never heard of such a thing. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of you when you found the trampled poster on your way back home. The actual message almost escaped your attention; you'd been too focused on the thick, ornate border, and the colorful, swirling patterns intricately filling the page.

"Last night in town! 'Wizard of Ozz' Night Circus, a mesmerizing show that will keep you glued to your seat. We're still searching for our Columbina. Perhaps you could become part of our story?"

Might as well check it out. Which is why you're currently here, in the outskirts, trying to find a walkable path among the weeds. It's dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. They're not trying very hard to provide an inviting atmosphere, you think to yourself.

Eventually, you discern a glimmer of light in the distance. You have found the circus tents.

The campsite is quiet and still, causing you to hesitate in your decision. Is it truly open?

There's a faint murmur coming from the main entrance. A small, melancholic Pierrot - when did he show up? - awaits by the heavy curtain, pale hands stretched out.

"Your ticket, Columbina", he announces with decorum. "Me and Arlecchino will show you any tent you want to visit. We are here to entertain you."

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

"I'm sure you'll like him more. He's a very alluring fellow. Me, on the other hand...Oh, forget it", he mumbles through pouting lips, ushering you inside.

"Aha! There's the star of our night! Our Columbina!"

A tall man in a pompous, glittery costume bounces towards you and lowers himself with a theatrical bow, giving your fingers a quick kiss. You pull your hand away, visibly bothered by the odd gesture.

"You keep calling me that. I'm (Y/N)", you argue.

"Yes, yes, of course we know that. Do ya take us for fools?" the Harlequin asks, kicking one foot in the air. The jingle of the bells at the tip of his shoe echoes across the hall. "You have, however - you must understand, yes? - you've entered Ringmaster's Circus. From now on, you are the Columbina to our play."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Just like that? Why me, and not someone else?" you scan the surroundings, pursing your lips. "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Harlequin makes an exaggeratedly shocked face and tilts his head towards Pierrot.

"What are they saying? You're the only one here, Columbina darling. After tonight, we-"

Pierrot's hand lands firmly on his friend's lips.

"You always talk too much. Always, always! And yet, you're the favorite. Of course you are. Oh, what pity, what misfortune", the pale young man laments. "We're wasting precious time."

They both burst into a little dance; a rather silly one, you think with an amused smile. Then, they place themselves besides the entrance, each one standing at one end, back straight and chins raised.

"Go on, go ahead, Columbina darling. This is your carnival. Choose any tent you'd like."

Pulcinella's Tent

The stage is pitch black, save for one spotlight contouring a patch of ground. You can see a large, colorful ball, and two feet clumsily rolling their way atop of it.

You chuckle at the sight. This must be the clown.

"No one can compete with Pulcinella's juggling", Pierrot declares somewhat monotonously. "His acrobatic spectacle has left many guests speechless, acting with such dexterity that one must wonder: is this truly the work of two hands?"

Lights flicker, allowing you to catch glimpses of smaller balls being thrown around. Juggling so many balls while bouncing around is indeed impressive.

"Rest assured, this is the art of one single man. Although four eyes are better than two."

The shadows are abruptly swallowed by spotlights, and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. A two-headed man continues his performance, throwing you the occasional cheeky smile.

"Ah, that is..." you place a hand over your mouth.

"A bother, truly", the Pierrot remarks, sitting next to you. "They're complete opposites."

He observes as both Pulcinella's heads tilt in your direction, visibly entranced. He sighs deeply:

"You'll love them either way. They're funny and entertaining, unlike me...A pathetic miser. Oh, if only I had half their charm!" he bemoans with a soft sob.

"Hey! Don't sadden my beloved like that", Pulcinella barks, jumping off the ball and running towards your seating with a comically merry jingle to accompany him.

You cannot help but marvel at the man in front of you.

"Enough of this, I've had enough! You don't get to decide yet, Pulcinella", Pierrot exclaims in sudden panic. He claws your wrist tightly and pulls you after him. "It's time to see other tents."

Sandrone's Tent

You peek behind the heavy curtain and freeze. Are your eyes deceiving you? Someone is idly resting at the bottom of a large aquarium, showing no struggle despite being underwater. The mysterious man senses your presence and emerges to the surface.

"Would you look at that! I can't remember the last time I had a visitor."

He gestures for you to come closer.

"Are you the new guest? Our Columbina?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", you speak up with hesitation, eyes glued to the scaly tail that seems eerily genuine. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving? Didn't the Ringmaster already tell you?" The merman claps his hands, amused. "You're naïve, I like that a lot. Perhaps this time I'll be the one to have you."

He abruptly grabs your wrist, and you jolt at the feeling. His hands are ice-cold and moist.

"Let me have a look at you, won't you? I'll help you hide from the others if you're good and listen to me."

You feel a pair of hands sinking into your shoulders, and you're ripped away from the merman. Harlequin's voice rumbles deeply across the room.

"You're being a fox again, aren't you, Sandrone? Hands off our guest! You don't get to pick yet", he scolds in a low growl. "Ringmaster won't be happy about it."

"Go on then, tell on me! Ringmaster's good boy, eh?" the dark-skinned man smirks mockingly and slams his tail against the glass. "Put a collar on that one, Columbina. See how well he barks", he snarls, then slides back underwater and promptly vanishes.

Harlequin's grip on your shoulders becomes tighter for a brief moment. You can tell he's tense.

"Let's get you out of here. Don't listen to a word he says, Columbina darling. He lies, you see? No one trusts him. You should rely on me."

Pantalone's Tent

You gawk at the impressive height of this tent, head nearly spinning from tilting yourself all the way back. Ah, this must be the trapeze artist. Indeed, one of the two handles is dangling above you, and it occurs to you there's no safety net. A tall, lean man swiftly pounces across, reaching for the trapeze. His movements are slow, yet calculated, and you can't help but wonder if he might actually be flying instead.

Upon closer inspection, it appears he has no arms.

"Madness", you find yourself shouting. "Stop this nonsense!"

He gracefully wraps his legs around the bar, swinging back and forth with a confident smile.

"You doubt me, Pantalone himself?"

With another thrust, he lets himself go, spiraling down against your terrified protests. His heeled shoes clack against the hard tile. Lastly, he stretches out his bandaged stumps, as if signaling his successful landing.

You find yourself bowing to the grand gesture.

"Yes, yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?" Pierrot follows behind you in his usual dull tone. "Pantalone is our master acrobat."

He lifts his gaze and notices that the man didn't bother waiting for a full introduction; he's already standing before you with a flirty grin.

"...and a charmer, I suppose. What, you're already doing your tricks?"

The sallow clown squeezes himself behind you two protectively.

"Shoo, shoo! Columbina is merely visiting."

He lightly pushes you away, towards the exit. You throw one final glance at the mysterious individual; he waves with his residual limb, and winks.

"You know where to find me, love."

Il Capitano's Tent

You feel a radiant heat coming from this tent. In the middle of the ring stands a grand cage. An animal of sorts? You keep your distance, observing from the benches.

A monstrous giant stumbles within your view with heavy steps. A thick, scaly tail rattles the bars of the cage, swinging itself with the precision of a bullwhip.

"Il Capitano himself!" the Harelquin announces theatrically, bending his arms in the direction of the blue beast. "The strongman, the fire-spitting artist, a most devilish creature captured and chained by our Ringmaster."

"Is this one mine?" the monstrous man pins you down with a predatory gaze.

"Perhaps", Harlequin spits out bitterly. "They decide, not you."

You squirm in your seat, suddenly much smaller under his intense stare. The charismatic guide's smile falters for a brief second, replaced by an envious grimace.

Il Capitano inhales deeply, expanding his torso and contracting his muscles. His fanged mouth then unhinges, releasing a great flame which spreads all the way to you. You're almost tempted to reach towards it, feeling the sting with your very fingers.

"Amazing", you mumble, still mesmerized by the spectacle.

This was no cheap trickery. Capitano is truly a one-of-a-kind artist. No human could replicate such a feat.

The beastly creature holds onto the bars of his cage, shoving his snout outside and grinning. Puffs of smoke escape between his teeth.

"Come down here and I can do even more, little one."

Harlequin gasps and gestures for you to stand up.

"Outrageous! How dare you-!"

He urges you to follow him outside. Enough monstrous sights for now.

"Shall we head towards the other tents, darling?"

Harlequin walks ahead, deep in contemplation. Pierrot scurries after him, whispering the remaining choices. Your shoulders are heavy, and you're quite tired from the eventful night.

You notice a little opening between the lavish curtain folds and decide to sneak away. They needn't know about your departure. You stumble around dark halls, following the cool breeze of the outside, until you're met with the starry sky.

Your path is blocked by two large poles, so you step to the right. Your body freezes in terror when they move with you. Slowly, you raise your head and follow the black shapes, and realize they're legs.

Far, far above ground, towering over the entire circus, you see two glowing eyes.

It's the Ringmaster.

"Bad, bad Columbina", he reproaches.

The voice is off, like an old, broken record reverberating against your eardrums. A cold shiver runs across your spine.

"I'm sorry", you blurt out in fear.

A long, bony hand appears before you, twitching with a loud pop. You wrap your hands around a finger, desperate to not anger this unholy creation.

"Let's take you to your caravan. We're leaving tomorrow."

Oh, God. What have you done?

Now, now, don't fret. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come, put that frown aside. Everyone loves you here. After all, you're their most precious Columbina. What's a Circus without its treasure?

[bweirdart]

EVENT OVER! THANKS EVERYONE WHO JOINED IN U ALL DID AN AMAZING JOB <3 SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR IN MARCH FOR #mARTch OR NEXT OCTOBER (2024) FOR A NEW SET OF PROMPTS!!!!!

OC-TOBER 2023 PROMPTS!!

general tag: #oc-tober / my prompts: #bweirdOCtober

F.A.Q:

Do I have to draw EVERY DAY?

NO! I highly encourage skipping as many days as you need to avoid burnout! There are 10 main days in the event (marked with a ⭐ star) that you can focus on if you don't feel up to doing every day, or you can choose your own adventure and just do the prompts you personally like!

Do I have to DRAW?

NO! You can also write fanfiction snippets, repost older art that fits the theme, tweet headcanons/backstory, roleplay in-character as your oc ... genuinely anything that fits the theme is OK!!

Can I start early?

YES! I understand some people work at a slower pace and might need a head start! So long as you wait until October to post it, you can start working as early as you need!

I missed the start of the event .. do I have to catch up?

NO! Please don't stress about days you missed, you're allowed to just skip to the current prompt!

RULES:

1. MAKE FRIENDS! The community is the best part of this event .. please try to follow new people, ask questions about ocs you like, compliment people's styles, ask friends to create with you, etc!

2. TAKE IT EASY! Skip a day if you're tired, busy or just not interested in the prompt. You don't have to catch up on it later. This is supposed to be fun, not work!

3. BE KIND! Please think about the people around you - don't give people unwarranted harsh criticism, content warn for themes/imagery in your work that could trigger someone, don't create anything hateful, etc

MORE:

text version / tips and ideas on bweird.art or below ↓

star = main prompts | no star = optional

INTRO WEEK

1: FAVE OC ⭐

-Which of your characters is your favourite right now?

2: NEW OC

-Who is your newest OC?

-Design a new OC right now

3: OLD OC ⭐

-Do you remember the first OC you ever made?

-Is there an OC you haven't drawn in a long time?

4: RE-DESIGN

-An OC who has changed a lot over the years

-Take an old OC and update their design right now

 

BACKSTORY WEEK

5: RELATIONSHIPS ⭐

-Who is important to your OC?

-Do they have a partner?

-Do they have a best friend?

-Are they close to their family?

6: SYMBOL

-What imagery do you associate with your oc?

-Are there any colours, flowers, animals or concepts that symbolize them?

7: PERSONALITY ⭐

-How does your OC behave?

-What are their positive traits?

-What are their negative traits?

-Are they extroverted or introverted?

8: PAST

-What was your OC like as a child?

-Where did they grow up?

-Are there any significant moments from their past that shaped who they are?

9: FUTURE ⭐

-Does your OC have a goal they're working towards?

-What will your OC look like when they get older

-Do you have a planned ending for their story?

PALETTE WEEK

10: pumpkin patch palette

#251604 #1E3807 #5B5E1A #A2A657 #EBA00F #F3ECCC

11: hot cocoa palette

#520B13 #BB382E #E27E6D #88392C #AF5D40 #E1AFA4

12: midnight zone palette

#000007 #000049 #183885 #004D4F #0E8788 #FFF1C0

13: peachy palette

#DE6450 #DB9171 #FFC1AE #FEE1AD #FFF2E0 #D9D8D8

14: haunted house palette

#552506 #6E25AA #ED690B #F925A0 #8F8BA7 #A6C1AA

FUN + GAMES WEEK

15: MEME ⭐

-Post memes that remind you of your OC

-Draw your OC as a meme

-Fill out a character meme (classic deviantart style)

16: FOOD

-What is your OC's favourite food?

-What is their least favourite?

-Can they cook?

17: EYES-CLOSED ⭐

-Draw your OC with your eyes closed! No cheating!

-Write a scene without looking at the keyboard! Keep the typos in!

18: SWAP

-Swap the style or aesthetic of two of your OCs

-Species or gender swap AU

-Invert an OC's colour scheme

19: INSPIRATION ⭐

-Is your OC inspired by any pre-existing characters?

-Are there any particular songs/lyrics that inspired something about one of your OCs

-Do you have a dedicated pinterest moodboard for your character?

20: INVENTORY

-What does your OC carry around with them on a daily basis?

-Are there any objects that have sentimental value for them?

-Loot drop for your DnD OC

 

FRIENDS WEEK

21-25:

There's no specific daily prompts for this week, but here are some ideas you can try ...

-Art trades with friends who are doing the event with you

-Your OC interacting with a friend's OC

-Gift art for someone whose OCs you like

-Work together and collaborate on something with a friend

-Roleplay an OC scene together with someone

 

HALLOWEEN WEEK

26: FEAR ⭐

-What is your OC scared of?

-Draw one of your OCs trying to scare the others

27: MONSTER

-Do you have any monster OCs? (eg: vampires, werewolves, creatures, ghosts...)

-Draw a human OC as a monster

-Design a new monster

28: TRICK

-Play a trick on an OC

-Do you have an OC who would play tricks on people?

29: TREAT

-What is your OC's favourite halloween candy?

-Give an OC a special treat to make up for yesterday's trick

30: MAGIC

-Do any of your characters have magical powers?

-Give an OC a magical or cursed artifact

-Create a magic-using OC like a witch or wizard

27: COSTUME ⭐

-What is your OC dressing as for halloween?

[teaboot]

Tell us about your OCs! (If you want.)

omgggggg I just spent my whole lunch break on this

Okay so the spaced-out blonde at the top is Lore. It’s short for Lorelai but she hates that so it’s just Lore. She’s sort of-technically more closely related to Fungi than Animalia, so you could jokingly call her a mushroom.

Lore’s SPECIFIC family is sort of similar to a mycelium network, and the oldest core of that network that sustains all the information from everything it’s connected to is her mom. And I say “mom”, but they have this whole asexual-splitting thing, so no actual sexual dimorphism. Lore is kinda-sorta in her spore stage, like a baby, and while most of her sisters remain underground to lure and drag wandering creatures to their death to be consumed, Lore works at a shitty gas station-convenience store in the middle of nowhere and lives in a shack, for identity crisis reasons.

Len is one of Lore’s many clone-“sister”-twins. He is very very rare in the sense that he is ALSO choosing to wander above-ground like Lore, and has also decided that he’s a He, while the vast majority of their siblings lean closer to what we would call the feminine end of the spectrum. He’s also a huge loser because he named himself Leonard on purpose.

(Their Mom is a She, but primarily due to the identity of Mom and her connection to her many many many many children- she herself doesn’t much care, and isn’t so much a singular identity as she is the nerve center lizard brain of a hive in the incomprehensible sprawling body of an eldritch horror that is only slightly overbearing about Lore’s life choices.)

Len respects Lore’s choices not to eat sapient creatures and sleeps on her couch because he can’t be arsed to get a job and usually just gets fired for not showing up anyways. (His grip on human time is sorta fucky.)

Crow is the human wife of the Bird King and was initially a mortal woman until they tied the knot about a hundred fifty years back. They’re going through a bit of a rocky patch right now though so she’s been booted from the netherworld. They haven’t really broken up, though. It’s complicated.

Buddy with the “???” is sorta weird. Len calls it “Dude”. Lore is pretty sure it’s a spirit of death or something, but she isn’t quite sure why it’s there. It sort of just appeared in the yard one day and has been hanging out for about a year since. He/she/it/they/ze/xe answers to pretty much anything, and isn’t creepy or evil they way you’d expect it to be despite looking like a mass of pitch-black flickering smoke wrapped around a skeleton. It mostly seems to just wander around the woods. It doesn’t talk or try to communicate much, but Lore figures she can tell when it’s in a bad mood because it steals her and Len’s pajamas and wears them around while moping.

Lore is. Doing her best about it

(Dung isn’t in the picture yet, but she’s about to become a Problem)

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I epilogue

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: the last box is sealed, the key turned, and the future is now smaller, quieter—measured in soft laughs, careful steps, and the warmth of someone who stayed. there are still aches, and some ghosts linger, but they no longer lead.

⤿ warning(s): panic attacks

⟡ story masterlist ; previous

✦ word count: 2.6k

Boxes line the hallway like a trail of breadcrumbs—taped, labeled in your tidy block print: LINENS, TEA, FRAGILE, MISC OR MEMORIES. Every lift sends a dull ache through the ribs that never fully forgot the fall, but you manage, pacing yourself the way physio taught: lift with legs, breathe, rest. Sun slants through the doorway of the apartment you kept so neat for so many years, catching dust motes that dance like reluctant confetti.

Mr. Donnelly hovers near the radiator plant that once refused to die. He’s thinner, cardigan buttoned crooked, but his grin is boyish. “Raccoon-proof lid’s coming with you, right?” he teases, voice cracking with emotion.

“It’s practically an heirloom,” you answer, sliding the lid into an open box. The laugh costs a twinge of pain, but the heaviness in your chest feels lighter than it did months ago.

Donnelly’s eyes mist. He pulls you into a gentle, grandfather-safe hug—arms careful of your still-tender shoulder. “Neighborhood rounds won’t be the same,” he murmurs.

“You’ll keep the stairwell in better shape than I ever did,” you reply, patting his back. When he lets go, he presses a spare key of his own place into your palm. “Just in case,” he says. You squeeze it once, then tuck it into your pocket.

A knock—two quick, one slow—taps on the open door frame. Jack steps in, shouldering a duffel and wearing that battered leather jacket you once accused of having more patches than cow. He’s kept the beard, now trimmed but defiantly scruffy, and the sight sparks warmth behind your sternum.

He surveys the room, eyes dancing.

“Thought I’d missed the heavy lifting,” he says, setting the bag down. “Turns out you’re ahead of schedule.”

“Blame the chronic insomnia,” you answer, wiping a wisp of hair from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

Jack’s eyebrow arches, the playful one. “Doctor’s orders were no solo heroics.”

“Doctor wasn’t here at 5 a.m. when the tea crate mocked me,” you shoot back. That earns a low chuckle.

He crosses the small distance, palms settling on the sides of your face—careful of the tiny scar above your brow—and steals a kiss: warm, deep, edged with laugh lines. It tastes of peppermint gum and promise. You kiss him back until Donnelly coughs politely into his sleeve.

Jack eases away, eyes unashamedly bright. “Morning, Mr. Donnelly,” he offers, handshake firm.

“Take good care of her,” Donnelly tells him, voice gruff. “She’s got more lives than my ex-wife’s cat, but let’s not test that again.”

“Plan to keep her bored,” Jack says, scooping up the TEA  box. “New place has zero rooftop access, improved locks, and a big kitchen.”

The mention of your new place still hums strange in your ears—half thrill, half fear. You’re not moving into Jack’s loft (that conversation ended with both of you laughing at the idea of one bathroom), but you did choose an apartment two blocks from his, sunlight slanting through south windows, rooftop well-secured.

Little by little, independence and closeness found a compromise.

Jack hefts another box, the LINENS one, pausing when you wince adjusting your knee brace. “Break time,” he declares. “Physio rules.”

You don't argue and perch on the lone chair left unboxed while Jack and Donnelly ferry cartons outside. From that seat you can see the empty wall where photos once hung and other small details that showed this place had truly been lived in. The place doesn’t feel haunted anymore, just emptied of relevance—ready to be someone else’s normal.

The quiet invites reflection, so you pull out your phone and open the family thread—one you swore you’d never leave on read again after Laura discovered second-hand how close you’d come to dying. Your thumb hovers a moment, then you flip the camera and frame the living room’s bare walls, the single chair, the roll of bubble-wrap like an un-popped promise. Officially moved out. You type beneath the photo. New chapter loading. Love you three—updates soon.

Laura’s reply dots appear almost instantly, but before words land, a tiny GIF of confetti rains across the screen courtesy of Paul, followed by Lily’s voice memo: a giggling Good job, Auntie! Don’t forget the glitter in your new house! Laura’s text arrives last: Proud of you. No more martyr radio silence—daily report accepted in emojis and cake photos. ❤️ You send back a selfie—sweaty, mascara smeared a little at the edges, but smiling—then tuck the phone away, promise kept.

As if on cue, Jack returns, wiping sweat with the hem of his sleeve. He kneels, resting his hands on your good knee. “Pain scale?” he asks softly.

“Three,” you admit. “Maybe four when I breathe wrong.”

“Breathing’s overrated,” he says, smile crooked but eyes serious. “We’ll ice in the truck, med when we unload.”

You nod, trusting him the way you learned to on a roof at sunrise. Chronic aches will linger; nightmares still punch through sleep some nights. But therapy, good food and Jack’s hand during the worst waves—they’re scaffolding that holds.

Donnelly waves from the doorway, keys jangling. “Everything’s loaded. I’ll follow in my jalopy—make sure you two don’t ditch that raccoon lid on the highway.”

You laugh. Jack rises, helps you stand. Your body doesn’t argue today; maybe tomorrow it will. He threads fingers through yours, guiding you to the threshold.

“You ready to lock up?” he asks.

You glance around at the bare walls, the echoing floors, and despite the bittersweet tug, your answer surprises even you:

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You turn the key, hand it to Donnelly for the landlord, and step into the bright corridor. Mr. Donnelly pats your shoulder one last time, then heads for the stairs. Your knee aches, your ribs protest, but the pulse at your wrist beats steady under Jack’s thumb, reminding you that healing, like love, is rarely quick but always possible.

Down on the street, autumn wind flutters loose tape on cardboard. Jack opens the passenger door, steadies your brace, and kisses your temple before you climb in. The window frames Mr. Donnelly waving like a proud uncle. Jack starts the engine, turns the dial to your favorite blues station, and pulls into traffic heading east—toward sunlight, tea, and whatever comes next.

. . .

The plan had been simple—Friday-night tapas on Carson Street, your first real evening out since the cane went back in the closet.

You showered early, traded compression sleeves for a floral blouse, even swiped on lipstick you hadn’t worn since for ever. But as you twisted at the sink to add the finishing touches to your look, a bolt of pain speared from rib to spine—nerve lightning you’d hoped was dying out. It stole your breath, and with the breath came memory: slick scaffold, the whump of bone on metal, Moylan’s whisper in your ear.

The bathroom lights tilted. Steam from the shower crowded close, suffocating, and suddenly you were back on the roof fighting for oxygen.

You braced both hands on the counter, forcing slow inhales the therapist drilled into you—four counts, hold, eight counts out—but your heartbeat wouldn’t quit sprinting. Jack’s text chimed and it up your phone—Leaving now. Can’t wait to see you twirl.

You stared at the words until they blurred, anger flaring hotter than pain. Twirl? With this body? With memories clawing up your throat? You silenced the phone, locked the screen, and curled onto the bath mat, palms over ears as if that could dam the noise inside.

Ten minutes later someone jiggled the front-door key—Jack’s spare you’d given him “for emergencies and forgotten lunches.” You didn’t answer. Keys clacked, hinges sighed, and his boots crossed hardwood, steady, searching.

“Hey, running late?” he called, voice light but laced with concern.

He stopped outside the bathroom when he heard the stifled breaths. The door cracked; you shoved it hard, catching him in the shoulder.

“Go away,” you snapped, vision tunneling.

Jack didn’t flinch. “Pain spike?”

“Not your problem.” You backed against the tub, arms wrapped around ribs as if that could bolt them in place. A sob escaped, acidic with shame. “I-I can’t even button a shirt without seeing him—how am I supposed to go out like nothing happened?”

Jack stepped in, slow, palms visible. “Then we skip everything,” he said softly. You glared, chest heaving. “Skip tonight, skip me—doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it matters to me.” You snapped as he crouched, careful of your knees, and you shoved him again, heel of your hand against his chest. “You want ugly?” you hissed. “This is it. Panic attacks, rage, the works. Go date somebody whole.”

He caught your wrist—not in restraint, but as if pinching a bleeding line. “Whole is a myth,” he murmured. “I’m missing a leg, remember?”

The quip should have made you laugh, but tears crushed it. You slid down the tub, hands over face, shoulders shaking. Jack sank beside you, back to the cool tile, and said nothing else. A minute. Five. Just the two of you breathing, your ragged inhales gradually syncing with his measured ones.

When words returned, they were whisper-thin. “It still hurts,” you confessed—ribs, knee, the memory. “Sometimes I hate this body.”

“I love this body,” he answered, eyes bright. “It’s the one that came back to me.”

Silence again, but softer. You let him guide your hand to his chest, feel the even pound there. After a while the pain eased to a livable hum, the room finally steadied.

“Tapas another night,” he said, pushing a stray lock behind your ear. “Tonight: couch, rice packs, bad rom-com?”

A shaky laugh. “And tea.”

“Always tea.”

He helped you up, pain flaring then ebbing under his grasp. In the living room he propped pillows just so, tucked the heating pad under your ribs, queued the cheesiest movie he could find. Halfway through, when the heroine tripped into the hero’s arms, you caught Jack studying you—not with pity but with fierce, patient affection. You thought of your shove, your anger, the ugly side you’d warned him about.

“Still here?” you murmured.

“Still here,” he echoed, and kissed the scar at your brow like a vow.

The movie’s credits crawl in silver letters across a pink-and-cotton-candy sky. Your tea sits half-finished on the coffee table, steam ribboning into the lamplight. Jack’s arm is a warm bar across your shoulders, palm idly tracing circles at the curve of your upper arm—slow enough that your ribs hardly complain.

You clear your throat, voice still raspy from the surge of panic. “I… also did something today.”

Jack’s thumb stills on your arm, waiting. “Yeah?”

“I handed Gloria my formal notice.” Saying it aloud again makes your pulse skitter. “Two weeks. I’m officially done.”

A beat of silence—then his arm firms around your waist, not possessive, just steady ballast. “How’d she take it?”

“She understood—signed it right away, actually.” You swallow. “I wanted to tell you over dinner, make it a celebration.” You gesture at his rumpled blouse now half-untucked. “But instead—boom.” You tap your temple, wincing at the memory of white-hot pain and rooftop ghosts. “Another episode.”

Realization crosses Jack’s face. “So quitting—good news—but also the straw on the haystack.”

“Pretty much.” You offer a shaky smile. “Sorry the fancy tapas plan went to hell.”

He shifts, starfishes a hand over your ribs in a gesture equal parts apology and promise. “This counts as a whole ass party when the news is this huge.” His eyes search yours. “And for the record—I’m proud of you. Even if the landing was messy.”

His beard is rough velvet against the fine hairs along your hairline. The living-room lamp has dimmed to a single amber pool, and the rain’s soft percussion muffles the city to a hush so complete you can hear the faint tick of the second hand on your thrift-shop wall clock. It’s the same beat that once timed your post-op vitals; now it keeps tempo for a quieter life.

“And Margot—” warmth swells behind your sternum just speaking her name— “pulled strings at Allegheny Community College. They need a clinical educator. I have an interview Tuesday morning.” You exhale, half terrified, half thrilled.

Jack leans back, eyebrows climbing. “Look at you. Should I start calling you Professor?”

“Please don’t,” you groan, though the grin won’t be contained. A bubble of giddiness rises—half fear, half freedom—and escapes in a laugh that shakes your sore ribs. You wince, and Jack’s hand instantly stills.

“Easy,” he murmurs, though he’s smiling too. “I’ll need you in one piece when I fend off every starry-eyed first-year who develops a crush on the hot new teacher.”

You snort. “Hot? They’ll be too busy watching me limp past the whiteboard.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “Trust me—limp or not, you’ll spark academic heart palpitations. I’ll swing by on my dinner break, flash the ER badge, scare ’em straight.”

“Jack Abbot, campus watchdog.” The idea dissolves you both into breathy laughter. When your mirth fades, a hush settles—thick with kettle heat and bergamot. Jack’s fingers resume their lazy circles.

“So,” he says quietly, “new job, new apartment, no rooftop drama. Think we can call this a fresh chapter?”

“Feels like one.” You study the living-room shadows, faint tremor still in your knee but nowhere near the earthquake it once was. “There’ll be bad days. Pain spikes. Flashbacks.”

He smiles against your hair. “Whatever comes, we handle it."

The word settles warm and sure. You melt farther into him, head on his chest. Beneath your ear, his heartbeat drums a steady four-four rhythm—no alarms, no rooftop wind, just the man who stayed even when you shoved him away.

Another siren wails somewhere—life moving at hospital pace—but it fades under the domestic hush of this small room. You picture your future: wax-polished halls, rows of curious students. No scalpels, no midnight pages anymore. It hurts, but the possibility of teaching, guiding...nurturing, it swells your heart, still fragile, still hesitant.

“Hey,” Jack murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “What’s first on your syllabus?”

“Drain-labeling protocol,” you say without hesitation.

Jack tips his head back and groans—half agony, half delight. You’re still laughing when he lunges, gentle but unstoppable, scooping you sideways onto the sofa cushions. His arm braces your ribs just right, the other cradles your neck, and his mouth finds yours with a hunger that’s all slow burn, no rush. His beard rasps your skin, sparks everywhere your nerves remember how to feel good.

Suddenly, the kettle in the kitchen clicks to a rolling boil—an impatient little whistle. Jack break of the kiss with another groan and starts to rise, murmuring something about pouring before the leaves scorch, but you fist the front of his shirt.

“Stay,” you whisper against his lips. “It can wait.”

He hesitates only a breath—long enough for you to drag him back down. The second kiss melts any lingering protest: slow, exploratory, tasting of bergamot and promise. Your fingers slide into his curls; his hand skims the healed curve of your waist as though relearning a map he hopes never to misplace again.

Steam puffs into the room from the unattended kettle, curling like a curtain around your laughter when you finally surface for air. Jack presses his forehead to yours, breath warm, eyes bright. “First you quit Surgery, then you corrupt tea-brewing standards,” he murmurs. “Total anarchist.”

“Only the important rebellions,” you reply, catching his lower lip between your teeth just enough to make him grin.

Somewhere beyond the rain-streaked window, streetlights blink through mist, buses groan, and life rolls its everyday credits. But inside this circle of lamplight and residual steam, beginnings feel soft as fleece, endings quiet as a held breath, and the two of you—tangled together on a well-loved sofa—taste what comes next one kiss at a time.

divider credit

[bellaxgiornata]

Five Minutes

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.4k [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Fluff, nervous!Reader, suggestive comments, & a slightly soft, flirty Jax

Summary: While out with your friends at a seedy bar in Charming, you manage to catch Jax's eye–and he's quite determined just to get you to talk to him.

a/n: I'm temporarily back in my Jax Teller phase at the moment as I force myself to rewatch Sons of Anarchy and actually finish the last season instead of trying to pretend the show doesn't end like it does. I'm just going to use fanfic to spare my feelings right now even though I don't usually write for Jax. It's been months since I've written anything and this was admittedly written entirely today, but enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Raising the bottle of beer to your lips, you took a pull from it as your eyes scanned the dimly lit bar around you. Stanley's was a hole in the wall type of dive bar–not the sort of place you generally found yourself drinking on a Friday night with your friends after work. It was a seedy place, and that was only made even more apparent by the impossible to ignore presence of the Sons of Anarchy.

There were five of them sitting at a table on the opposite side of the bar from where you and your friends were drinking, all of them wearing their black leather kuttes with their worn patches and matching hardened expressions. They were deep in discussion as they sat with a few questionable looking men and one gentleman in particular who looked far too nicely dressed to be sitting and drinking in a place like Stanley's. It was obvious that they were doing something illegal, conducting some sort of business boldly out in the open. 

Swallowing down your beer, you lowered the almost empty bottle back to the table and returned your attention to your three friends who were still in the middle of discussing Tabitha's breakup. Leaning forward and resting your forearms along the wooden surface, you felt it wobble beneath your shifting weight as you focused on the conversation once more. Though you had to strain to hear them over the rock music blaring through the place.

“It's his damn loss, Tab,” Sara said, her tone firm. “If Travis is going to sleep around on you, then you deserve better than his dumbass. He's not worth a single one of your tears.”

Monica was nodding from her place in the chair beside you, gesturing her glass of cranberry vodka at Tabitha. It was clear she'd already had a few too many of them since the four of you had arrived over an hour ago.

“That's right,” she began. “We aren't out tonight to drown your sorrows over that asshole, we're out to remind you that you're a beautiful badass and you don't need him. You can do better.”

An annoyed scoff left Tabitha in response before she rolled her eyes. “Because there's so many wonderful options of available men in Charming to choose from,” Tabitha replied bitterly.

Unable to fight the grin at her harsh but truthful comment, you let out a small laugh. “What? You don't like our options at tonight's wonderful drinking establishment? You've got so much to choose from.” 

Monica and Sara were quick to laugh, matching smiles spreading across their faces. Both of them openly scanned the bar around the four of you, their eyes taking in the varying men drinking around Stanley’s.

“Yeah Tab, you've got your pick of either emotionally immature or emotionally unavailable,” Sara teased.

“Or old enough to be your father, beer gut included,” Monica joked.

Swallowing down another sip of your beer, you smiled as all three of your friends laughed at the table, the mood finally lifting among the group of you tonight. Your eyes darted across the bar back to the table of Sons. The blonde one you knew as Jax Teller, their leader, was standing and shaking the overly dressed gentleman's hand now, clearly finished with whatever illegal dealings they'd been handling here.

“And let us not forget,” you added on, your eyes averting from their table and returning to your friends as you lowered your voice, “the option of criminal biker. A Charming specialty.”

Each of your friends laughed once more before sending wary glances across the bar towards the leather-clad men. The Sons' presence here clearly made the four of you uneasy–almost as if bullets would start flying at any moment. And with the way things had been happening around town lately, it didn't feel far out of the realm of possibility with them here.

“Let's be real, they don't know a thing about commitment, either,” Tabitha replied, sitting back in her chair. “Any one of them would still be far worse than Travis.”

“There's a silver lining, at least,” Monica said before taking another deep drink from her glass. She swallowed it down before continuing, pointing a firm finger in the direction of the bikers across the bar. “Anything in this town is better than a Son.”

“Doesn't matter anyway,” Sara chimed in, her eyes darting to the bikers’ table and then back. “We are not the kind of women who even register on their radars.”

Picking up your own beer from the table, you drank down the last of its contents as your friends began speaking in hushed tones, the topic quickly taking a turn to the rumors they'd overheard about the Sons’ clubhouse parties. Sliding out of your chair, you had already stopped listening. You'd never concerned yourself with the small town's motorcycle club before, preferring to stay far away from them and the trouble they caused, so you certainly weren't about to suddenly care about the gossip and rumors now.

“I'm going to grab another beer, I'll be back,” you told the others.

Monica sent you a smile, acknowledging what you'd said before her eyes returned to Sara who was now in the middle of animatedly telling a story that she'd overheard about the Sons. Not wasting another minute, you ducked your head and walked away from the table, making your way towards the bar. As you wove between the other tables with gruff looking men who were giving you looks that made your palms sweat, you kept your eyes averted from any of them, doing your best to ignore the curious glances and the occasional comment thrown your way.

Reaching the bar, you caught the bartender's attention and ordered another beer, dropping some cash onto the bar counter as you did. You watched as the bartender grabbed the bills before walking off to retrieve your drink, your fingers absently drumming along the sticky counter as you waited. 

A few feet further down from you, another figure sauntered up to the bar, casually leaning their forearms along it. Against your better judgment, your head shifted over your shoulder, your eyes drawn by the movement. You felt your heart accelerate, pounding a bit harder in your chest as you recognized Jax Teller standing there looking worn and irritated, a slight crease between his brows and a downward curve to his mouth. Immediately you glanced away, eyes focusing straight ahead of you as your body went tense. Unfortunately for you, the sudden movement seemed to have caught his attention. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw his head turn in your direction as if he'd noticed you looking at him, and then you could practically feel his eyes running over you. 

Swallowing hard, your fingers drummed a bit more anxiously on the counter as you internally pleaded for the bartender to hurry up and return with your beer. But just as he began his slow return towards you with your opened bottle in hand, the Son beside you let out a soft, amused huff before he took a few steps closer. He easily slid further down the bar, now standing with barely three feet of space left between the both of you. His proximity had your pulse quickening even more as you determinedly kept your gaze straight ahead. Maybe if you didn't look at him again he wouldn't speak to you. 

Though it didn’t take long for your theory to be proven incorrect.

“You look out of place here, darlin’,” Jax’s deep, smooth voice came from beside you as he leaned just a fraction closer.

Continuing to keep your gaze fixed ahead, you watched as the bartender wordlessly set your drink down in front of you before focusing on Jax next, a hint of trepidation on his face as he took the intimidating man's drink order. Not wanting to stick around, your hand darted out to grab your beer before you turned away from the bar. Pulling the bottle up to your lips, you immediately took a deep drink to offset the dryness that had settled in your mouth at Jax’s presence.

“You just gonna ignore me, sweetheart?” he asked, shifting along the bar to casually lean his back against it. “I'm just being friendly here.”

Pausing at his voice directed at you once again, you felt your body go rigid on the spot. Hesitantly, you threw a timid glance back over your shoulder at him and the sight had you stopping just two steps from the bar. He was resting against the counter with a mixture of amusement and mischief dancing in his blue eyes, a cocky smirk tugging his lips upwards at one corner. He looked completely comfortable and at ease now as he stared back at you, the faintest curious tilt to his head.

You’d seen the Sons often enough over the years since you’d lived in Charming. Their bikes were impossible to miss when they came roaring through the streets of the small town, and you’d often seen them around the clubhouse lot every time you drove past Teller-Morrow Automotive whenever you drove to and from work. The sight of these men wasn’t anything new to you, but you’d also never been standing quite so close to one of them before. Especially not Jax. The rumors you’d always heard about how handsome he was hadn’t remotely done him justice–he was somehow even more attractive than he’d looked from across the bar earlier. 

Jax Teller was…beautiful, if you were being honest with yourself. In a sort of rugged, dangerous way. The sort of way that had your heart hammering like a caged bird in your chest with his confident smirk, those engaging blue eyes which clearly held an endless amount of secrets, and that damn slicked back blonde hair that had your fingers itching to grab onto it and pull his face between your legs. 

As if he could read the thoughts racing through your mind, his smirk grew into a lazy smile, one hand reaching over and grabbing the drink the bartender set down beside him. His eyes never once left you as he watched you, the gaze not unlike that of a cat about to toy with a mouse. The look he was directing at you had you tightening your grip on your beer bottle, your palm dampening nervously against the glass.

“Come on, darlin’,” he tried again, slowly gesturing his head towards the barstool beside him. “Take a seat. I just wanna talk.”

“I–I don't think that's a good idea,” you stammered.

Taking another step to leave, you turned and made a desperate attempt to get out of his line of sight and back to your friends at the table, but you’d only managed that one step before his hand was lightly grasping onto your upper arm and gently turning you back towards him. Immediately you bristled at the touch, your body tensing as you jolted backwards and out of his reach. The smile on Jax’s face only grew wider, like he’d found your reaction to his touch entertaining. With his drink held in one hand, he raised both of his hands in mock surrender.

“Easy there, darlin’,” he drawled out, still grinning. “Just wanna talk. That’s all. Nothin’ else, I promise.”

Standing there with your heart thudding away inside of your ribcage, you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat. He was so damn comfortable and confident just leaning against the bar like that, it was only making you more nervous. What the hell did he want with you? You clearly looked nothing like any of the women you’d spotted hanging around the clubhouse whenever you’d driven past, he couldn’t possibly be thinking that he was going to take you home to his bed. Though the thought of that, of being alone with him like that , had your cheeks heating as your eyes darted down to the bottle of beer in your hands.

“I think you’d find I’m not remotely the kind of company you’re looking for,” you answered back, awkwardly attempting to avoid his gaze.

A low, rumbling chuckle fell out of him at your comment, the sound drawing your eyes back up to his. Somehow he just looked even more entertained.

“And what makes you say that?” he asked, that lazy grin still on his lips. “What kinda company do you think I’m looking for, sweetheart?”

The question drew the heat further down your neck, your whole body starting to feel like it was on fire now. You were absolutely not made for conversations with someone so straightforward and unflappable as Jax Teller. It seemed the more nervous you became, the more he enjoyed this unexpected interaction with you.

“Something more exciting than me,” you answered after a moment. “Look, I…have friends who’re probably wondering where I’ve disappeared to by now–”

“I’m just asking you to sit right here with me,” he said, cutting you off with a shrug. “Not trying to run off anywhere with you, darlin’.”

Closing your mouth at his interruption, you stood there for a long moment cautiously studying him. Why was he so damn insistent on you sitting with him and talking? What the hell did he want from you? Because it had to be something, right? There was no way he just wanted something as simple and innocent as a conversation. 

Turning just a fraction towards him, your brows drew together in confusion and contemplation, your question coming out just loud enough to be heard over the music in the bar. “Why? Why do you want to talk?”

Jax shrugged a single broad shoulder again in response. “Call it curiosity. You don’t look like you belong in a place like this,” he answered.

Your eyes narrowed a fraction at him in return. “Like I don’t belong in a bar?” 

A soft huff of laughter fell out of him before he shook his head, an almost boyish grin spreading across his lips as his eyes creased at the corners. “Nah, darlin’. That’s not what I meant,” he replied.

When you didn’t answer, his expression softened just a fraction as he straightened up against the counter behind him. His hand reached out towards you again and your eyes quickly darted down towards his ringed fingers, a look of fear passing over your face. Catching sight of your obvious discomfort, Jax’s hand hesitated in the space between you both before it slowly dropped back down to his side.

“Sorry, I forgot.” There was an edge of humor to his voice. “ You don’t want me to touch you. Gotta admit, I’m not used to that reaction from women.”

Clearing your throat, your eyes returned to his face. “Most women usually don’t like being touched by strange men at a bar,” you pointed out, trying to sound more bold than you felt. “That’s a normal reaction.”

The corner of his lips twitched again at your reply, as if he found your attempt at being firm with him more funny than anything. He nodded his head slowly before he spoke. “Yeah, suppose I’ve heard that.” His hand reached out to pull out the barstool beside him instead, dragging it over towards you before he gave it two gentle pats. “Come on. Just…quench my curiosity about why a timid thing like you is drinking in a place like this. I gotta know.”

Bottom lip rolling beneath your teeth, you chewed it in thought for a moment as your attention shifted down towards the awaiting barstool. Was that what he was after then? You just stood out to him and he wanted to know why you were here? That was all?

Cautiously, you turned further towards him, a wary expression still on your face despite the way the smile once more grew on his. An idea was forming in your mind, one you hoped would get him off of your back.

“If I talk with you for five minutes, will you leave me alone afterwards?” you asked, the question coming out of you slowly. 

Jax’s eyebrows rose marginally, almost like he couldn’t believe just how much you seemed to not want anything to do with him. One of his hands rose up from off the bar, his fingers running across his bearded mouth as if in thought while his eyes remained fixed on you in front of him. After a moment, he nodded once.

“Yeah, alright,” he answered, gesturing his head back towards the barstool once more. “You’ve got a deal, darlin’. Five minutes and then I’ll stop bothering you.” He paused, shooting you a handsome grin. “If that’s what you still want in five minutes.”

Eyes darting across the bar, your gaze landed over on your three friends still sitting at the table you’d left them at. They were all staring at you, watching you closely as if searching for some sign of distress considering who you were talking with. You gave them the faintest shake of your head to let them know you were fine before you took the few steps over to the barstool beside Jax, hesitantly lowering yourself onto it. He immediately shifted along the bar, resting his left elbow on the surface and leaning his weight onto it as he watched you take another pull off of your beer.

“Name’s Jax, but I’m guessin’ you already know who I am judging by the way you’ve been trying to scurry away from me this whole goddamn time,” he teased lightly. He jutted his chin at you, that hint of curiosity back in his eyes. “You got a name, darlin’?”

With your gaze focused on your beer bottle as you set it along the bar, your fingers fidgeted with the label along the bottle. The condensation on the brown glass already had a corner of it peeling off. Awkwardly you gave him your name, half of you wondering if that was even a good idea.

Jax chuckled in response, drawing his glass to his lips as he spoke. “Was expecting more of a fight from you on that, I’ll be honest,” he admitted, taking a drink before lowering the glass back to the bar counter. He took another step closer, leaning towards you when he spoke again. “So what exactly are you doing drinking at this shithole? Girl like you doesn’t look like she belongs in a place like this.”

Shaking your head, you glanced up at him beside you from beneath your lashes. If he wasn't some dangerous, playboy criminal you might have let yourself feel more flattered by his attention. Because you absolutely, definitely were not.

“No, I…generally don't come here,” you agreed with a small nod. “I uh…I'm out with my friends. One of them is going through a breakup. We didn't want to run into her ex while we were out tonight so…we came here tonight. Because no one ever goes to Stanley's.”

His blue eyes searched your face for a long moment as he let your response settle over him. Something about the intensity of his gaze mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke and leather emanating off of him at this distance had your stomach twisting nervously inside of you for different reasons than a few minutes ago. 

“Breakup, huh?” he mused after a moment. “Brought your friend out drinking to cheer her up. That's why you're here?”

“Yeah,” you answered quietly. 

He bit his lip, fighting back a smile on his face at your explanation. The sight had your eyes darting away just so you could control your breathing. He was quickly becoming intimidating for an entirely different reason now.

“Makes sense,” he replied. “Guess you’re right, doubt you’d run into anyone in this damn place. Though it…really isn’t the best place for a thing like you to be drinking with your friends.”

Grabbing your beer, you raised it to your lips for another deep drink. He was making you so damn nervous that you couldn't refrain from blurting your next words as you set the bottle back down. “I'm guessing you're not out here to help your friend get over a breakup.”

A wide smile broke out across Jax's face, the sight quickly followed by his deep, rumbling laugh. The sound was so unexpected and pleasant that it caught you off guard, a small smile slipping onto your face in return before you could stop it. 

“No darlin’,” he replied, still chuckling at the absurdity of the idea. “That’s definitely not what brought me out here tonight.” 

The smile lingered on his lips as he watched you, something impossible to read in his expression. There was a growing curiosity in his sharp, blue eyes the longer he stood beside you, though. The sight of it had you shifting on the barstool anxiously.

“I got a feeling you're not just the awkward and shy thing I first thought you were, sweetheart,” Jax mused, his voice dropping to something a bit lower. “Seems like there's more to you that you're hiding behind that deer-in-the-headlights look you keep throwing my way.” His lips quirked up into something mischievous as he continued. “Kinda makes me wonder…”

Brows immediately furrowing at the way he'd trailed off, you stiffened in your seat. “Wonder what?” you asked him cautiously.

Jax paused for a moment, that devious little smirk still on his lips. His left hand absently swirled his glass along the bar as he watched you closely, almost like he was studying you. Observing you. Trying to make sense of you.

“What I'd gotta do to get you to loosen up a bit,” he answered after a moment.

Something about the way he'd said that, all resonant and sultry, paired with his confident smirk that seemed to have a double meaning, had a shudder running through you. He was smooth– far too smooth. Despite the fact that you knew how dangerous he was, knew the type of man he was, you felt a warmth slowly flooding through you, one that wasn't related to nerves or alcohol. When he shifted beside you at the bar, his knee suddenly brushing along your thigh over your jeans, you practically jumped in your seat. 

“Relax, you're so on edge, darlin’,” Jax teased you, an amused huff passing between his lips. “I'm not gonna try anything. Consider me on my best behavior right now with you.” Jax paused, his gaze openly raking over you once more where you sat on the barstool, not even remotely being subtle. “Unless you ask me real nice, not to be.”

Almost instantly your eyes widened at his clear flirtation, your lips parting in surprise. That heat flooding you only seemed to be burning you up a bit hotter. Attention shifting back to the beer in front of you, your tongue darted out and dampened your lips in a nervous gesture. How in the hell was he affecting you like this? You should know better than to let a Son be chatting you up like this.

“You know,” Jax continued, taking another half-step closer to where you were sitting, “I’m not half as bad as you probably think I am.” He hesitated for a moment, making a slight face before adding on, “At least, in some respects. Just gimme a chance, sweetheart. Let me prove it to you.”

Eyes raising from the bottle of beer in front of you, your gaze landed on the clock on the wall behind the bar. It was well off by a half an hour from being remotely accurate, but five minutes had certainly passed since you'd sat down with him. As if he knew what you were thinking by where your eyes had shifted, Jax’s gaze followed yours to the clock. A moment later his attention returned to your face. Gradually your eyes landed back on him, watching as a lazy half-smile spread over his handsome mouth.

“Looks like my five minutes are up, darlin’,” he pointed out, leaning against the bar as he kept his eyes on you. “You're free to run back to your friends now.”

For some reason, you found yourself not immediately moving from your place on the barstool. He was right, you'd given him your five minutes to chat and quell his curiosity about why you were here. It was such a small thing for him to have wanted to ask you about, and yet somehow that had left you curious about him now.

“Or–” he said, breaking the mounting silence between you two as he raised his glass to his lips, pausing with it there as he continued, “–you can give me more than five minutes of your time tonight. Up to you, sweetheart. My evening is wide open at the moment.”

Sitting there, you watched as his lips wrapped around the edge of his glass, the dark liquid tipping back into his mouth as his eyes remained on you. Your hand gripped the neck of your beer bottle harder, your heart thrumming in your throat at the offer to stay and talk to him. You knew you shouldn't, you knew the smart thing to do was to get up with your beer and go back to your friends and forget this entire moment had ever even happened in the first place. Jax Teller was trouble. He wasn’t a good guy. He was a notorious playboy with a criminal record. But for some damn reason you couldn't move from your seat beside him. And that only had his smirk growing wider the moment he realized that you weren’t moving. 

His foot slid out, casually hooking around the leg of the barstool beside you before he pulled it out. Settling down into the seat and getting comfortable, one of his hands gestured at your beer that sat half-drunk in your nervous grip. 

“Why don't you finish that and I'll get you another, darlin’?” he suggested, arching one of his brows at you.

Slowly, you raised the bottle to your lips, drinking back more of the alcohol. Jax’s eyes creased at the corners as he leaned closer towards you, resting his elbows on the bar counter. 

“So, why don’t you go on and tell me more about how you’re not the kinda company I’m looking for tonight, darlin’?” he teased, that infuriatingly handsome smirk slipping back onto his lips.

[malereadermaniac]

૮ • ﻌ - ა Betrothed ~ Alpha FireLord Zuko x Omega male reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Plot: Even after his father had been overruled, Zuko couldn't experience true freedom; bound by his duty as Firelord Part of that duty was of course, as an Alpha, to find a mate and continue the lineage of the fire nation. But when the Firelord is brought a familiar face by the royal matchmaker, he's put at ease

Warnings: Sfw & Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Zuko felt uncomfortable - both physically and emotionally. Physically, the Firelord was uncomfortable from the head to toe Firelord get-up; his advisors insisted he wear traditional Alphan Firelord clothing to his matchmaking appointment. He was deemed one of the luckiest men in the world, an Alpha born into not only wealth but royalty, but those blessings came with their own limitations. Zuko wanted to choose his partner, he wouldn't care about their secondary gender or status, the alpha just wanted the real love he had been deprived of all his life - and that was the root of his emotional discomfort. Nonetheless, as FireLord, he had a duty to his people and his honour, so Zuko was willing to go through with whatever was about to come.

As the matchmaker walks into the arranged meeting room, Zuko's nerves turn 10 fold - but he, of course, doesn't let that show, a simple chill running up his spine instead. He watches as the evidently Beta woman places down her folder and a packet of scent patches, sneaking a peak at her notes when she opens her folder; many graphs of scent compatibility catch Zuko's eyes along with his profile, clearly, this woman takes her job seriously. After the matchmaker introduces herself, she hands out scent patches to any Alphas or Omegas in the room, allowing for Zuko to only be able to smell his soon-to-be mate and as to not overwhelm the Omega - afterwards, the woman starts to give a brief rundown of what will occur. Zuko listens attentively as he fidgets with his fingers beneath the table: the omega will walk in, she will read his brief information, and the two will greet and scent each other's wrists, if Zuko accepts the Omega then any advisors and herself will leave the room for the two to talk. It felt like the woman was talking forever, the FireLord's heart beating quicker and quicker by the second, but once she finally stopped, Zuko's head snapped to look at the door as the matchmaker stood up to let his future mate into the room. The last thing Zuko expected to see was his childhood friend - you, [Name], [Last Name].

"[Name]?!" Zuko stutters out, going to stand up but his advisors ease him to sit back down

"Ah! Zuk-..." You stopped yourself when you saw the matchmaker's face, procedures had to be followed to a tee according to her. You make your way to the table Zuko was sitting at and bow with grace

"FireLord Zuko, it's an honor"

Holy shit, your voice had such an immense effect on Zuko, the title of FireLord rolling off of your tongue perfectly. You were dressed in traditional clothing, ridiculously adorned with Fire Nation accessories, the sleeves of your clothing long enough to cover your hands as you nodded and bowed - you looked enthralling. Zuko had never seen you in this light, his contact with you having been cut before your secondary gender had shown itself, but man, did you really grow into a full Omega. Your scent was surprisingly the last thing the Alpha had noticed, but once he took a note of it, it was all the man could think of; a soft smell of flowers and cotton, it reminded Zuko of the happy portion of his childhood, but most of all it made his inner Alpha flare up like mad. The matchmaker starts to read off your information as you sit down in front of the royal, the both of you fighting smiles.

"[Name] of the affluent fire nation family of [Last Name]. Overall healthy with a blood type and astrological match with the FireLord. Most importantly, a 98% match between their pheromones. His fire bending is passable, but he passed the top of his class in fire healing. He has etiquette training, cooking, cleaning, and even medicinal skills as well as a fertility of 0.7 - one of the highest in the nation."

You cringed at all of your personal, embarrassing details were read off and watched as Zuko's advisors checked off on their little clipboards - but all of your negative emotions vanish when you catch Zuko's eyes, the warm smile on his face putting you at ease immediately. His scent was not only calming and anything but overwhelming, but it also felt like it was perfect for you, it was like gold was running through your veins every time you took a breath. The two of you snapped out of your infatuated dazes from the matchmaker coughing to draw attention. Zuko's advisors mumbled amongst themselves and then one whispered to Zuko, which resulted in a smile from the handsome Alpha which was followed by a nod - then, the next thing you knew, Zuko was holding out his wrist.

"May I scent you, [Name]?" Zuko asked, initiating the scenting with his voice smooth like silk. You immediately agree and rub the scent gland on your wrist against Zuko's, your muscles instantly fully relaxing as his scent sticks to your gland. The two of you watch as all surrounding people leave the two of you alone and sit in a brief silence; that is until Zuko softly breaks it. Usual small talk turns into friendly catching up, Zuko being interested in your life after the two of you were forced apart by life - you'd both talked about missing and thinking about each other and how you'd even witnessed Zuko's Agni-kai with his father. Over the half an hour that the two of you talked, your hands slowly crept closer together until Zuko's strong hand had its slender fingers intertwined with yours. Just before his advisors interrupted the two of you, Zuko asked a question that shocked you

"Do you want to be my mate?"

Zuko knew the two of you had no choice in the matter, but because of his history with you, and his previous and current soft spot for you, he would want anything but to keep you in a forced relationship for his own benefit. After a short silence, a soft nod from you put Zuko's heart at ease; but that peace was only shortly lived until his advisors walked in and had you two follow along, the life of royalty barely giving the Alpha a chance to breathe. The two of you walked behind Zuko's head advisor, his other few trailing behind you both - and even they couldn't help but notice how right you two looked walking next to one another. After being escorted to your new shared bedroom, Zuko's advisors planned to take Zuko away to further discuss your relationship; however, a wrench had been thrown into their plans when Zuko immediately disagreed, demanding that a discussion that surrounds you should include you. The way that the Alpha stood up for you made you beam internally, a small smile making its way onto your face, and with no room for argument, you left the room with Zuko and his advisors towards the meeting room. Passing by the throne room, the two of you notice some workers build you a throne as they did for Zuko - those advisors work really quick it seems - the both of you take into account how Zuko's is taller and positioned just a little higher than yous...

"We propose that the wedding happens by the end of the month" the lead advisor begins the discussion. The scene isn't necessarily foreign to you, your father having you sit in on meeting with the previous FireLord in this very room, a large table sits in the middle of the room, Zuko is positioned at the head with you next to him (kneeling in the floor) as his advisors sit at the opposite end.

"Isn't that a little too soon? Can't we have it by the end of the year?" Zuko argues, clearly not wanting to rush a delicate process

"One month is quite generous already, Lord Zuko... You must pull your nation together, a royal wedding is the type of celebration you need - the sooner the better, ten months is far too long" another advisor pops up

"One month isn't even enough time for me to properly court [Name]" Zuko fights back, a calm demeanour on his face as he looks towards you and smiles

"My Lord, the Omega isn't the priority at this point in time, keep in mind you also need to provide an heir" the main advisor explains

"An heir? I understand the wedding, but the throne will receive an heir when the two of us so wish!" Zuko's tone shifts, clearly offended at the suggestion that your purpose in this marriage is to pop out pups

"Why don't we compromise to five months?" You pipe up, fidgeting with your sleeves as you look at the advisors

A short silence fills the room

"Don't speak during a meeting, Omega" one of Zuko's advisors says to break the silence. All of them were thinking it, he was just stupid enough to say it

"I beg your pardon? Leave" Zuko demands, his tone devoid of emotion, and when the advisor protests, one look towards his guards has them remove the advisor from Zuko's meeting room.

"U-Uhm- Five months is acceptable, thank you" The lead advisor acknowledges your point, the first time you'd even been looked in the eyes by one of Zuko's trusted men

After the awkward meeting that surrounded your near and far future, the rest of your day reflected the whirlwind prior, sorting out royal duties and meeting Palace staff. But as the sun began to set and you made your way back to your room, Zuko stopped you

"Yes, my Lord?" You ask, looking up into Zuko's eyes with soft, tired eyes

"Y'know you can just call me Zuko..." The alpha blushes, the title really affecting him only when it came from your soft lips

"Haha... sorry, guess my training really did work" you chuckle

"Hmhm... was it really that intense?" Zuko asks as he starts to walk with you to the royal bedroom

"I mean... if you'd say 4 hours of etiquette training and 3 hours of learning how to please an Alpha a day is intense then yeah" you say with a sly smirk, the sarcasm in your voice evident

"Wow... I didn't even know... I've only ever had the regular royalty lessons" Zuko mumbles, closing the door behind you

"Yeah... even if I come from an affluent family, my secondary gender makes me get treated like a mutt" you say with a smile

"Well, I promise you... I won't let that happen around here if I can help it." Zuko says sincerely, holding your hand in his firmly. The sweet gesture makes you blush, your words failing to come out of your mouth; your scent glands running rampant from receiving basic respect for once in your life! After a few minutes of silence, looking into each other's eyes while blushing and breathing in each other's scents, Zuko suggests the two of you get to bed. You have to rip your eyes away from the Alpha as he lets his hair down, stripping off his heavy attire to his bare chest.

"Ah! Sorry! I'll step into the bathroom if you need" Zuko says with a worried look on his face as your insane scent snaps him out of his thoughts; your blushed face and eyes fixed on his toned body really giving away that your instincts were taking over.

"No! Sorry! Oh my, I'm so sorry!" You shout, tearing your eyes away and turning around embarrassed. Zuko chuckles and continues to change, but the same ordeal repeats when you begin to change - however, it was even more intense as the Alpha was practically drooling at the sight of your bare skin.

Sleep was very needed after such a chaotic day, and after a chaotic week, and a chaotic month. At some point, Zuko asked for your permission to court you, proposing with the crown given to the FireLord's mate; and of course, you agreed. Life started to seem less chaotic after that. Zuko would shower you with gifts every day and ensure to spend at least 4 hours a day with you, taking you out on dates to prestigious restaurants and on smaller dates in the Palace Gardens; it was enjoyable, it was the secondary school experience the two of you never had, having either been in private tutoring or single gender private school. It was also very evident that the two of you had never had your firsts in everything, of course, because of valid reasons; Zuko had been exiled near the time his secondary gender had come through! And you were under strict orders to stay untouched until you were mated, being collared for most of your life. But still, it was very evident that you two were massive virgins.

Point A: When Zuko proposed to court you with the priceless, beautiful artefact of the Royal family, you hugged him. The way that the Alpha turned red within seconds, his pheromones suffocating you, Zuko desperate to keep you in his touch as he scented you. It was clear that the young FireLord had never had even physical contact with an Omega.

Point B: The first kiss that the two of you shared. On a small picnic date in the gardens of the Palace under the moonlight a month into the alpha courting you, Zuko asked to kiss you. And holy shit when he did, the two of you were inseparable. Your lips were stuck to Zuko's for an entire half an hour, his tongue devouring your mouth as Zuko was taken over by his inner Alpha, pushing you gently to the ground and hovering above you. Your pheromones and his were running rampant, mixing in the air to make a stunning aroma, your moans were music to the Alpha's ears as your stomach did flips just from kissing Zuko. You could feel how hard Zuko was as he was grinding against you, desperate to feel you, desperate to have whatever he's been craving since he presented. Luckily, some guards stopped the two of you from doing anything that would get you into trouble.

Point C: Zuko is only 20, jealousy is understandable. So when Sokka paid a visit to the Palace and required your healing after doing something stupid, Zuko had never felt what he felt in those few minutes. You, seeing another Alpha naked, touching his body to heal him with your fire, you'd never done that for Zuko! His pheromones were sour and his chest hurt, and once Sokka made his way to the guest room and you and Zuko to your own room, the Alpha demanded to know if you were infatuated by his water tribe friend. It was so evident that even seeing someone else's naked body was a high level of intimacy to Zuko, and even to you, it was at the time. But after kissing for the whole night, the Alpha's hands roaming your body gently, his jealousy faded away.

Eventually, the two of you made it official, Zuko's advisors already scheduling the wedding for the end of that week. The nation was ecstatic, hundreds of thousands of people either showed up or read about your wedding and mating to the Firelord. And that night, after finally getting permission from his advisors, Zuko set his eyes on marking you...

That night was intense, and it went on for ages, so here's a brief recap:

Once the two of you were basically locked in your bedroom by your advisors, Zuko decided to initiate

He held you against the door, and after gaining permission from you, looked down into your fucking sexy eyes, held your chin up to him and quickly started to kiss you

The Alpha held your waist and your chin, his tongue dominating you along with his insanely powerful and attractive scent

The two of you made your way to the king-sized bed without breaking the kiss once - Zuko on top of you as he undressed you

Once the two of you were naked, all hell broke loose

Your legs were placed onto the Alpha's broad shoulders, his two slender fingers immediately going to your slick-leaking hole

Moans filled the grand room along with a rich aroma of your scent mixed with Zuko's

You had cum already just from Zuko's fingers, and once he had licked up all of your sweet, sterile cum, Zuko aimed his huge Alphan cock at the entrance of your hole

The two of you went at it for what felt like hours, your bodies covered in sweat and scent glands releasing so many pheromones that they were beginning to liquefy and pool by your glands

Your hole had been stretched long ago, taking the shape of Zuko's huge, veiny dick

Eventually, Zuko couldn't hold back anymore, knotting you and cumming in unison with his Omega - the two of you taking the opportunity to fulfil your duty and mark each other

With that out of the way, the two of you spent the rest of the night making passionate love to one another, pleasuring each other in so many ways that your combined orgasm count for the night was 17! Luckily you two are literally built to have shit tons of sex!

And after that night, the two of you couldn't get enough of each other after finally tasting what you had been missing

For now, you were on the most expensive birth control - pills made in the earth kingdom using natural herbs and minerals that are almost 99% effective at keeping you and Zuko from providing an heir a little too early

So with the worries of pups out of the way, you two would go at it like... well... Alpha and Omega

Heats were insane but well spent with Zuko, the Alpha eating you out and fingering you for an hour minimum, making you orgasm plenty of times before satisfying the burn in your stomach with his huge cock

Zuko's ruts were when shit really hit the fan, his advisors would have to leave the palace and have it guarded for the week it lasted - luckily they were rarer than your heats

In summary, your Chambers walls have seen many things: from you worshipping the Alphan Firelord's body to Zuko letting you, the light of his life his Omega, ride him like a toy without permission to touch you

And in the future, once you two are ready for pups, Zuko can't wait to be the father he never had - and he knows that seeing you as a dad and caring for his pups will further awaken something within him he never knew he had before meeting you

[livmightlive]

DONT GET ME WRONG- I am a huge advocate on the Wild and Hyrule being bffs front BUT I think it would be so so SO funny if they hated each other at first.

Wild and Hyrule

The similarities between Wild and Hyrule are genuinely poetic, I mean botw is literally a spiritual successor to Zelda 1. Their friendship was written in the stars.

But their differences… I think in the beginning Hyrule would envy the shit out of Wild. Both of their eras are in severe decline but Wild’s is green. Everyone in the chain knows that Wild’s memory is lacking. They know that one day Wild woke up with no memories and answered the call to be a hero, just like that. Everyone thinks it’s highly admirable to choose to be a hero without even knowing what you’re saving, just being innately good. But Hyrule doesn’t think so. If he woke up and saw a world so beautiful… There isn’t even a choice in defending that.

He’s also jealous that Wild can just… fuck off if something gets too dangerous. When they’re in Wild’s era they learn that he can use his slate to teleport anywhere he wants as much as he wants. If Wild accidentally disturbs a Lynel he can literally disappear to a sunny beach, get a drink, and lay out. He even has a map that updates as he moves. If he got lost, even with his slate not working, Hyrule has no doubt Wild would just run into an apple tree, a clean spring, and venison. He can scan an object to tell whether or not it’s poison. It didn’t matter how young, sick, or tired Hyrule was, if he stumbled upon a Lynel it was either him or it. He had to learn the hard way what he could or couldn’t eat. If Hyrule got lost there was no way his maps could save him. His era was mostly one huge bruise of dry grass and dying trees. Food and landmarks were scarce.

Because of that, Wild gets to goof off. He’s impulsive. He’s loud. He’s everything that should’ve gotten him killed years ago.

What he doesn’t know is that Wild is also jealous of Hyrule. Hyrule is just so… competent with so little. Hyrule never needed the master sword. In fact, Hyrule still uses the same sword he’s had since he was 10. Hyrule doesn’t break things. Hyrule doesn’t need people to find him when he’s lost, he doesn’t need maps. Hyrule doesn’t complain when all they have to eat is hard tack and water.

Hyrule could find a needle in a haystack without even burning it down. He’s just… everything that Wild can’t be. The shrine of resurrection healed as much of Wild as it could but the brain is a complicated thing. He wonders if he was always so impulsive, if he used to miss social cues, and if his memory had always been awful. Flora said something about damage to his frontal lobe but unless he looks up the definition in his slate, Wild can’t remember what that means.

Wild feels so embarrassed having had to use so many tools in his quest. Everyone calls Legend the hoarder but Wild quietly knows that it’s really him. Just standing next to Hyrule makes Wild look bad. It’s like the guy glows.

So they both resent each other at first, Hyrule for what Wild has and Wild for what Hyrule has.

I think if they were both teens, 17??, they would take this out on each other by being relentlessly petty. I think aside from Wind, they would be the youngest in the chain. At least in this scenario. Wild holds his breath praying that Hyrule will fuck up at some point. Hyrule “accidentally” keeps sabotaging Wild’s attempts to sneak off. Whenever the other gets lectured they get a sick feeling of accomplishment.

The chain picks up on the fact those two don’t like each other. Most of them don’t get it, two teenage kids, the same age, both heroes with a love for adventure and sneaking off. Why wouldn’t they get along? Wild and Hyrule never do actually fight though, until they do.

It starts with little things, Hyrule being annoyed after being asked to patch Wild up. Wild under or over seasoning Hyrule’s dinner portion just to test how far he can push him. Just little things to push at each other’s buttons.

And then they finally do fight, maybe after months of it brewing. And GOODNESS if it’s not a glorious fight. It doesn’t matter who started it. Hyrule has a fist of Wild’s hair. Wild throws sand into Hyrule’s eyes. The chain doesn’t even know what to do by the time they finally get them split up.

Well, Time does. Time makes the two of them start doing EVERYTHING together. Patrols, skirmishes, chores. The only way they’d be closer is if they were tied together. They hate it.

But it’s because of this they get captured together after a portal splits up the chain. Maybe they’re lost, arguing when cultists, a sick combination of both Yiga and the Eyes of Ganon scoop them up.

I think that while the Eyes are hyper competent they’re not necessarily cruel. This is a means to an end for them, they believe the death of the hero will save their families. For that, the hero doesn’t need to suffer. Slitting his throat will do. The Yiga are cruel but not very competent. They want to string the hero up, humiliate him. Torture him if they can get their hands on him… These two forces combined make something both competent and cruel.

So Wild and Hyrule are united in their shared terror. Hyrule and Wild finally start talking, trying to collaborate when they realize the cult wants to toy with them both before ritualistically sacrificing them. Through this, they finally understand each other.

Hyrule learns how insecure Wild is and why. How Wild’s era failed him and pushed him into something when he literally didn’t even have the mind to do so. That Wild is struggling to cope in a world that he barely understands.

Wild learns that Hyrule never got to cope, that his entire life has been one big chase. That Hyrule also didn’t choose to be a hero but had to be. Hyrule never catches a break. Hyrule never had the chance to get to break something.

Through their impromptu sleepover and some light torture, they grow close in the span of 72 hours before they escape their captors hand in hand.

They reunite with the chain who are shocked to see them arms around each other’s shoulders like brothers. Laughing, and more concerningly bleeding, at new inside jokes.

From then on they become a dangerous force. Time almost wishes they didn’t get along so well bc the new trouble they’re getting into is much more stressful than the old isolated incidents. They learn each others anxieties and weaknesses and do their best to uplift each other. They’re besties 💕💕💕

Hehehe sorry for the long ramble but I think about these two a lot. I think it’s so cool how their games are related but they’re also kind of opposites in some ways? This is probably ooc but I had a lot of fun writing. Lmk any thoughts!!

[saturnscafe]

͙˚ ༘✶Le Pew | Skunk Hybrid (GN Reader)

Smut Below

A/N: did I write this after remembering Pepe Le pew? Yes. Yes I did. 😂 Hence the tittle. I wrote this in a daze so bear with me if there’s any mistakes lol.

Skunk hybrid hating humans because they always run away from him. He doesn’t understand why, I mean he does. However he doesn’t understand why they wouldn’t give him a chance. So when he was injured and you found him he was shocked that you didn’t care.

He just stared at you trying to figure out when you’d run, or when you’d say something about his smell. When you patched him up just smiling at him he was entranced with you. Blurting out quick and loudly “Will you be my mate” he didn’t even know where that came from. Neither did you but you’d be lying to yourself if he wasn’t handsome.

That sleek black hair with a small stripe of white. The small scar that went up the side of his cheek, and not to mention how tall he was.

“How about a date first?” You said smiling at him and he thought he could melt right then. He scattered trying to plan the best date for you. He was always a super confident man but you had him feeling like a middle schooler getting ready for his first date. You suggested just a relaxing day at your place, just hanging out and getting to know each other one on one.

When he came knocking on your door the smell of strong cologne washed over you. It was like he bathed himself in it. He was scared you’d change your mind if he smelled. So he drowned himself in a whole bottle of the stuff. You couldn’t help but laugh it just came tumbling out. “Did you use the whole bottle?” You teased. His ears folding down to his head like he did something wrong. “Most humans..” he started to say before you cut him off. “I grew up around skunks, I don’t mind the smell. Quite frankly I don’t even smell it anymore.

His eyes lit up, asking you so many questions as to why. After telling him your father was a vet helping any animal in need. You told him about how he’d made it a mission to help any hybrid that wasn’t treated well. Always opening his home to skunks, snakes, spiders and many more that didn’t meet the “cute” standard.

You both chatted all night, about everything and anything. He’d open up about how he honestly hated humans because how they treated him like the plague. You reassured him that, that wasn’t the case with you. That you knew many people who just loved his kind. The night turned into you both curled on the couch at 1am watching movies.

He felt really comfortable with you, his confidence oozing back. His hand found its way under your chin pulling you into a sweet longing kiss. Your eyes fluttered close taking in how gentle he was. The kiss turned into hands pulling at each other’s clothes. Lips kissing at any part of skin they could find. When he slipped into you it his head fell backwards taking in the feeling of your warm walls. The smell of the cologne finally had faded away, and you could smell his natural musky sent. His smell was different though almost like it was a sort of pheromone. It was driving you crazy.

His cock hit the back of your walls, nails digging into one another as trails of curses left both of you. His eyes found yours making his hips stutter he felt like he was in love. He leaned down kissing you passionately as both of you reached your climaxes hot ropes of cum spirting into you. His arms wrapped around you holding you close as he possibly could. Like you’d float away if he didn’t. He broke the waves of breaths “so does this mean you’ll be my mate?” He said his fluffy tail slowly moving behind him. “I’d be honored” you replied.

People couldn’t grasp why you’d choose to be with a skunk hybrid. They didn’t see him like you did which was honestly their loss. With your love and support he became even more confident. Talking to other humans and finding people who liked him for him. Even meeting your father who absolutely adored him.

[lesbolesbolesbo]

ellie fucking u at a skatepark :P

very little plot, mostly porn<3 cw/info: established relationship, mean dom!ellie, fem sub!reader (wears a skirt lol), kinda bratty!reader, exhibitionism (FICTIONAL N FOR THE FANTASY PLS DONT FUCK AT SKATEPARKS!), reader calls ellie daddy, grinding, choking, fingering, kinda filthy LOL, completely unedited and also my first time ever writing smut woahh

Ellie had been in a grade-A state all day, and not her regular moody haze; she had scoffed at your homemade brownies, rolled her eyes at your selection in TV shows, and even disregarded a pretty flower you had shown her on the way to the skatepark. You had started getting fed up with her behavior, and decided to did what any girlfriend would do (at least, the type of girlfriend you were)-- tease.

You started small, giving her fuck-me eyes every time she looked at you, habitually, after landing a trick. She'd roll her eyes and mutter "fuck off", before continuing her tricks.

At this point, you're getting needier by the second, so you start rubbing your legs together, just slightly-- when she sees you doing this, she grabs her board in one hand and heads straight to your little patch in the grass that you were watching her from.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" she scoffs meanly, grabbing your knees and holding them in place.

"You've been mean to me all day," you mumble, avoiding her gaze.

She traces the line of your jaw, then grabs your chin to force you to look at her. "Oh, so you decide to act like a little whore in public just to make me look at you? There are kids here, y'know."

"Wouldn't say you're acting very PG either, though, daddy," you say, letting the corner of your mouth perk up with defiance.

She rubs her lips together, shaking her head, some variation of what am I gonna do with this bitch clearly running through it.

"Get up," she says, unhanding your chin.

"Mmmm, you gonna fuck me in front of all these people?"

She sighs, exasperated. "Not here, baby-- too many eyes on you, but I'll drag you somewhere just public enough to make you squirm while I remind you who owns that pretty little mouth." You swallow, somewhat speechless for the moment, as you stare at her outstretched hand.

Finally, you take it, following her to a shadowy corner of the park behind a small cluster of trees. "This is where you choose to get all that repressed anger out on me? Very nice, very woodsy, though there's not a lot of--"

She cuts you off with a hand around your throat, backing you into a tree. "Do you really think you're going to get away with mouthing off like that after you just made such a slut out of yourself back there?"

You let out a moan from her words, and from the feeling of her hand on your neck as another one snakes under your shirt. "I'm sorry...." you say reluctantly.

"You need to prove that to me, then, angel. Stay quiet while I touch you." She starts gripping your waist with one hand, hard enough to leave fleeting marks with her fingernails. She keeps you in place that way as she shoves her knee between your legs.

"Daddy--" you moan, trying to grind on it, but her hand moves to your hip, controlling the rhythm with her knee itself.

"God, you're wet-- but you don't get to grind on me yet, baby. Not till you've proven you can stay quiet for me."

She keeps pressing her knee just-right on your clit as she moves the hand on your neck to grab one wrist, pinning it above your head; obediently, you move your other hand up and allow her to get a hold on both.

"Mmm, look at you, baby. Trying to prove you can be a good girl for me?"

You nod, trying hard to suppress each moan that threatens to spill out of you as she grinds her leg against your heat.

You're growing needier by the second, especially with the way she nips and sucks at your neck, moving down to your collarbone.

"Daddy... daddy, I'm close--"

"Aww, baby, it's so sweet that you think toys can talk... I told you to stay quiet, didn't I?" She pouts at you with fake pity. "Maybe I should just..." she slowly starts to move her knee away.

You shake your head desperately, your breathing growing heavier as your slick starts dripping down your thigh in a bead.

"Mmm, I guess I'll be nice..." She removes her leg, and just as you start to whine from the loss, she abruptly moves your panties aside under your skirt and shoves two fingers into your cunt, curling them just right.

You throw your head backwards, eyes rolling pathetically as she fucks into you, and a loud, high-pitched squeal escapes you before she bites your lip hard--as a warning or an act of love, you can't tell.

Her hand continues pinning your wrists to the tree as you come undone, squirming and moaning and shaking; the no-sound rule seems to disintegrate along with your self control.

"You fall apart so well for me, baby... guess all you need to shut you up is a little--" she thrusts hard into you, causing your whole body to pulsate "--extra lovin'..." she chuckles, biting on your collarbone.

"Daddy, I'm gonna--"

"Come on, let it happen, baby-- you're doing so fucking good for me." She quickens her fast pace as she flexes her fingers and begins rubbing tight circles on your clit with her thumb.

"FUUUUCK----" you scream, moaning and shaking from the stimulation, falling apart in her arms as she continues fucking you through your orgasm.

"Such a good girl... just needed some attention, huh?" she says before finally letting up, rubbing your back and wrists and kissing your neck as you tremble through the aftershocks.

"Do you think they could hear me?"

"Mmmm, I hope so, baby. Let 'em know exactly who owns this pretty pussy."

hoping this is not as cringy as i feel like it is, pls lmk if youd like to see more from me! (and if so, what you'd like to see)!