#when it’s one or two people with their individual dogs

[darkwood-sleddog]

Sorry y’all the entire Clever Hans wiki article should be basic required reading at this point.

The “Clever Hans” effect, also understood as animals performing tasks because their handler/owner subtly and often unknowingly cues them that they’ll get a positive response is well documented. Hell, it’s been observed in drug sniffing dogs where the dogs will give false positives based on the dog’s observance of the handler’s body language. Scientifically that’s very interesting.

Dogs using buttons are not “speaking” they are using what they know will get them a desired response. Dogs do speak, to us and each other, in their own form of communication (body language mostly). We as humans are adept at being able to learn to read this just as dogs can read OUR body language (body language we often don’t know we are communicating btw). That’s neat as heck.

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[ms-demeanor]

Due to some stuff brought up in recent posts I believe it is time to once again extol the virtues of Ms-Demeanor's Patented Where Did I Put That Fucking Paper Organizational Binder.

Hello! I am a disorganized adult! This is the system by which I manage my important shit like pink slips for my car and medical records and tax information.

You're going to need:

A 3-Ring Binder

Transparent Sheet Protectors

Notebook dividers (optional but VERY useful)

A backpack (optional)

So the way this system works is you put the sheet protectors into the binder. You can either use the dividers to divide the binder into sections or you can label some of the sheet protectors to make different sections but what you are generally going to do is make sections of the binder labeled things like "taxes" or "vet" or "doctor" and put a few sheet protectors in each section.

Then all of your papers with important information get crammed in that folder. You don't organize them, you don't sort them by date, you don't alphabetize. You put things vaguely relating to taxes into the sheet protectors in the taxes section. You put things relating to cars in the cars section. You don't even attempt to make this readable - you're not using sheet protectors so that you can read each page and keep it legible, you're using sheet protectors because it's a cheap plastic bag that will sit nicely in a binder.

You CAN put stuff into the individual sheet protectors when you get it, but let's be realistic you probably WON'T do that, so just tuck individual papers into the front of the binder until you get to a critical mass of paperwork then take an hour to sit down and sort into categories and put it in the binder once every six months to three years (depending on how frequently you get paperwork). Sometimes these sections will outgrow their original allotted space - since my spouse had a transplant surgery the medical section has had to become its own folder - and that's okay. If you end up with multiple folders just keep them together (this is why the backpack is an option, and one I strongly recommend).

Because yeah, if my organization system relies on opening up a drawer and putting something where it belongs as soon as I get the paper, I will simply not be organized. It's not going to happen. But I can handle a messy stack of paper that sits in one place and grows until it is time to shove it into a binder. I can't organize things for thirty seconds a day every day but I can organize things for an hour once every year or so (maybe two hours every five years when I sort out stuff I don't need like copies of warranties for parts on a car I don't own anymore).

When my mom died she had about fifty pounds of paper files in her office that were neatly organized in a system that didn't make any sense to my dad, my sister, and I. I ended up sorting through those files for twenty hours, tossing out copies of paid invoices from ten years ago and student handbooks from my junior high school. I reduced one filing cabinet, two desk file drawers, and a foot-high stack to a six inch binder that I gave to my dad. My mom died five years ago; two months ago my dad asked me about a medical document and I was able to tell him to go look for it in the medical section of the binder. It was there, because ALL IMPORTANT SHIT GOES IN THE BINDER.

Where is my birth certificate? In the binder. Where is my tax return from 2017? In the binder. Where is the record of my dog's last rabies shot? In the binder. Where are the records for my life insurance? In the binder.

A lot of what people consider "being organized" breaks down to whether or not you can find the specific things that you're looking for. Does my binder look nice? Is it aesthetic? Does it have color-coded tabs and papers all laid out neatly? Absolutely fucking not. But if you ask me where to find a paper I know that I can do so within about five minutes of shuffling through the pile of letter-folded sheets that I pulled out of the appropriate section of the binder.

I've discussed the Where Did I Put that Fucking Paper Binder before, but now it is time to expand that concept to the Backpack of Important Shit.

You likely have Important Shit that does not fit in a binder. Some of my Important Shit that does not fit in a binder is stuff like jewelry and the spare key for my car. Other stuff - the reason I decided to bring this up at all - includes my backup hard drive and packaging (including product key codes) for pretty much all of the software that I own. This is also where I store printed out copies of the recovery codes for most of the online accounts that I have.

There's a lot of weird fiddly shit that we have to have that we might not access all that often. This is the kind of stuff that might end up in junk drawers or under sinks or in disused laptop bags or kicking around under a bunch of papers in a desk drawer.

It doesn't matter so much when that weird fiddly shit is a set of hex keys or a utility knife or a protractor or a copy of a student handbook but it DOES matter when it's something that you might need to put your hands on in a hurry. If your computer crashes, you're not going to want to track down the software in the back of a filing cabinet and the backup drive from somewhere in the bowels of your desk. If you lock your keys in your car you are not going to want to figure out if your spare is in a junk drawer or the old purse where you keep semi-important stuff or the tin on your desk that has buttons and pins and headphone covers. Just put it in the Backpack of Important Shit and when you need it you know where to look.

So anyway, if you are a person who is a minor disaster who has trouble finding important things when you need them please don't think that you have to get your life together and have a nice organized filing cabinet or clear plastic bins full of documents or a neatly divided storage closet where everything from board games to backup drives has its own neatly labeled place. Just assign ONE LOCATION for important shit and start putting the important shit there. It doesn't matter if you have a filing cabinet where you keep old copies of homework and printouts of online orders and family history records - you do not need to keep everything that is file-able in one place and depending on what level of catastrophe you are it might be detrimental to you if you try to do that. It doesn't matter if you have a jewelry box where you keep your collection of gauges and wrist cuffs; if you are going to stress out about where grandma's ring is when you're digging through your collection of cheap earrings and silver pendants then *do not keep grandma's ring or any other Important, Vital, Cannot Be Lost jewelry in with your day-to-day wear*.

I live someplace that has fires. My binder got upgraded to my Backpack of Important Shit when the fires were getting uncomfortably close to the house I was living in and I wanted to have one bag to grab if we had to get out fast. Once I did that, I never took the binder out of the backpack and the backpack has now made three moves with me and has meant that I've had my birth certificate handy when I needed it in the middle of a move between two states, I was able to provide a history of my cholesterol panel going back six years to a visiting nurse, and I was able to give the exact names and contact info of my spouse's previous surgeon to the hospital when I had unexpectedly moved to a new state with three bags and my work computer at the beginning of the pandemic.

Get yourself a backpack of important shit and a folder of where the fuck did i put that paper. It is so much easier to search a backpack for important shit than to go through an entire house and it is so much easier to flip through a binder than it is to dig through a filing cabinet.

Anyway good luck and happy adulting.

[inkskinned]

"your pet doesn't love you; it just has learned that it will get treats if it acts a certain way. it can't understand you."

in between humans, i don't always speak the language either. love has always been hard for me. i don't trust it. i can't read it easily on people's faces - i'm usually trying to read past it; to the "other parts", the ones that make sense to me.

but my mom always offers me food as soon as i get through the door. my brother calls me at weird hours, just to be talking. my sister has a nightmare; asks me to please drive safe in the morning. i throw my friends random parties, just to celebrate something. she drives 45 minutes to spend 3 hours with me. amelia holds my hand while we both cross the street.

no, my dog and i don't have the same language. so what? this is not the same thing as communication. my dog is a good study in how trauma can heal - a rescue from the racetrack; i've been watching his personality develop slowly. in the last year, he's gotten so comfortable with me that he'll ask me to sit down on the grass so he can use my body as a seat. (it's important to note: he is huge. he squishes me. i don't complain. i find it lovely.)

love for us is also just endorphins and behavioral response. i'm a poet, the number of sad men that have tried to "teach me" how stupid it is to be a hopeless romantic is ... not a low one. i cannot count how many times someone has argued - it's all chemical stimulus - as if the fact of it makes it less magical. we're just electrical signals reading the universe! that's fucked up. that's so beautiful.

i find it hard to believe that in the spectrum of evolution we are the only species to feel like this - we already know that dogs and cats also have endorphins. why wouldn't they experience joy? love? companionship? in what world is it a new thing that i had to earn it? in every relationship, both individuals have to work to learn the language. i had to teach my dog what trust is. it's okay that it took time for him to learn it.

in the human world, when i love someone, it's hard for me to speak it. i write them poems or make them food or give them a cool rock i found on the beach.

i don't know how to tell goblin i love him, so i tell him through treats. through a new collar, fancy mattresses, a little bow on his leash. i tell him with long walks and petting him and sitting down on the wet ground so my 70 pound sharp noodle of a dog can prance on my thigh bones and take an awkward - if loving - seat.

"you taught your dog to love you" is kind of a cruel way to reframe what actually happened: i loved him so loudly, it skipped over language and species. the two of us just saying - oh! i have figured out a way to tell you that you make me happy.

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[chaoticbardlady99]

Pinkie Promise? (Astarion x F! reader) MDNI 18+

Author note- this is specifically for @spitfireunhinged who wrote a beautiful little post with a concept that I adored. I hope I did it justice and you enjoy!

CW- NSFW, mentions of SA

Synopsis- You tell Astarion that you don’t think sex is as good as people say it is. Astarion is determined to prove you wrong.

*not my pic. Please let me know if it is yours so I can give credit

I rewrote this like 7 times. This draft is lightly edited, but I couldn’t wait to post it!

Part 2: I Triple Dog Dare You

Astarion had heard the phrase “pinky promise” before. It was usually between Leon and Victoria before Leon left for a hunt. She always made Leon pinkie promise that he would come home and Leon always swore it- his pinkie hooked with hers.

The whole thing made Astarion vomit, but he thought it was just a “them” thing since he had never heard it before.

Then you used it on him and he had hurt your feelings terribly. He had called you a child and then proceeded to mock you.

You had just smiled at him sweetly like you usually do, apologized for invading his space, and for crossing his boundaries.

When Astarion had come by an hour or two later to drop off a book he ‘borrowed’ (it was his book, but he wanted an excuse to talk to you again), he heard you sniffling and asking Karlach if you were a child. You were so upset by his judgment because you like him as a person and thought the two of you were friends. Karlach said that some people just aren’t capable of being nice.

Astarion found you after Karlach went to sleep and pinkie promised to never call you a child again (and that he doesn’t think you are a child).

Suddenly, it was your thing and it slowly became more enduring as time went on. A part of him was envious if Karlach or Gale offered you the gesture first and you would give them one of your breathtaking smiles. He wishes he could initiate it, but it feels far too intimate to him. Asking someone to promise him something? Perish the thought! No one can truly be trusted. Well- maybe you can be trusted.

Astarion doesn’t know when he became so infatuated with you and your existence. Maybe it was that first night at camp when the two of you got to know each other a little bit better. You hadn’t been able to sleep because you were struggling to adjust to the new environment. You asked him lots of questions that he honestly had struggled to answer, but you were actually interested in him- not just his body.

Astarion was beginning to crave your presence and he despised sharing it with anyone else. One time he even went as far as making you pinkie promise you wouldn’t kiss Gale when he had called you over. You had scoffed and said that is ridiculous because “Gale would not kiss you ever, yuck!” , but did it anyway.

Low and behold- Gale did not get his kiss. He’s tried since, but you have rejected his advances. Astarion likes to think it’s because you like him more- want him more.

So maybe that’s why he was quick to drag you away from the Tiefling party after you had made your rounds- not wanting to watch you be with another person a second longer. You let him take your hand and you giggle as he chastises you for taking so long to talk to everyone else.

“How dare my self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ spend so much time not in my presence!” Astarion melodramatically states, “I am hurt, Darling. I thought we had something special.”

You blow air out of your mouth with an eye roll and smile at him.

“Well of course we do,” you say matter of factly, “but I also knew the minute I went to talk to you that I wouldn’t talk to anyone else.

“I’m the fearless leader!” You say with emphasis, “Leader of the Freakshow- welcome one and all to the most traumatized individuals alive!”

Astarion’s chest bursts with laughter, “how very on the nose of you, my Dear.”

“I must keep all of us humble, my Sweet,” you say boldly.

He tsks at you and twirls you around, “I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to steal my lines- that is going to cost you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Certainly.”

“Name your price.”

Astarion pauses- right now doesn’t feel like the moment to go full throttle. He has more work to do.

“I need time to think,” he says lewdly, “there are so many things I could ask for, after all.”

You hum in agreement and smile at him coyly.

Maybe it’s because you are the first person he has actively sought out since he has been released from Cazador’s grasp.

Astarion guides you to a spot in the meadow he had found earlier. Well- actually he had followed Gale to it earlier- Astarion just found an even better spot like 10 yards away.

Gale had stupidly announced to Wyll around the campfire that he was going to ask to spend time with you alone tonight.

There was immediately not a chance in hells that that was going to happen. Gale found a nice spot in the forest- Astarion found a better one. Gale brought a blanket and wine? Pfft, Astarion can do that.

You stop in front of the blanket and wine before you look at him- a nice blush running up your neck.

“Is this for-?” You seem surprised.

Which Astarion finds very interesting considering you are from Noble society- shouldn’t you be used to being courted? Astarion is almost certain you’d have at least a hundred suitors.

“For you?” He smiles charmingly, “well of course, only the best for you, my Dear.”

You duck your head and you blush even harder. Astarion guides you to sit with him. You both drink the wine and talk. You ask him questions about himself and he asks plenty about you.

Astarion isn’t sure when the conversation turns into talking about sex- that had always been the original intention of the conversation.

“Sex can’t possibly be all that great.”

“Pardon?”

You shrug your shoulders and slightly slur the sentence again with emphasis.

“Sex can’t possibly be all that great.”

Astarion is shocked to his core. You flirt back and forth with him as if you’ve bedded at least a couple men.

“You’ve never?”

“No.”

“How?”

You look at him with a puzzled expression. You are staring at him as if he’s grown a second head.

Hypocrite. You’re the one spewing none sense!

“How?” You state incredulously, “you have looked at me right?”

Oh yes and I’ve imagined fucking you until you are screaming my name, but that’s beside the point I suppose.

“I’m nothing much to look at. I’m always the friend- never the girlfriend or the lover or whatever!” You emphasize with your hands, “no one has ever felt that way about me and if they have- they’ve never gone for it so I assume it’s just not that much fun.”

Astarion feels like he’s dying all over again. That was your assumption? Not that you might be horrifically oblivious because he’s only tried to to get in your chance several times. One time he quite literally asked you to come to his bed that night and you showed up with a book.

“Darling,” Astarion’s exasperation obvious, “I’ve been trying to have sex with you for a couple weeks now. Probably even more than that at this point.”

You stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

“You,” you stammer, “you want to? With me? No way.”

You laugh nervously, “you are beautiful and intelligent and-“

“No, no way.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow at you and smiles seductively. Your lips part slightly as he pushes you on your back and parts your legs with his knee.

Your arms automatically wrap around his neck- your pupils blown wide with lust. Astarion kisses to the left and right of your lips- grinning when he hears your huff in frustration.

“You sure do keen a lot for someone who doesn’t think sex could possibly be ‘that good’, Darling,” Astarion coos, you tighten your lips in embarrassment.

Astarion rolls his eyes at you and cups your face while putting his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You hum with pleasure and peer at him through hooded eye lids. Astarion feels his cock strain against his pants

“So, my Dear,” Astarion drawls, “do you want me to fuck you? Would you like to see all the bliss you are missing out on?”

You nod eagerly and Astarion presses his thigh against your growing heat. You whine around his thumb and you run your tongue against his skin.

Fuck.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” He asks hotly.

You nod- Astarion can smell your arousal and feel it seeping through both of your pants.

“Pinkie promise?” He says teasingly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to hold out his pinkie.

You hook your pinkie with his and whisper, “pinkie promise.”

Astarion pulls you in for a mind numbing kiss- caressing your lips with his until you are keeping up with his pace. He feels your arms around his neck pull him in deeper.

Your kiss against his lips is sweet and intoxicating- for a second he completely forgets about the purpose of the evening. Astarion could sit here and just kiss you like this until the sun comes up.

Your breathing hitches and Astarion watches as you desperately try to find release by riding his thigh- your movements erratic and wanting. The sounds you are making fill him with excitement and for the first time in a while- he’s actually eager to be inside someone.

He realizes your moaning has become muffled all of a sudden and he looks up to find you covering your mouth- your cheeks and ears are bright red while you pant with arousal.

Astarion laces his fingers through yours and holds your hands down on either side of your head- your pupils are blown wide from lust. The galloping of your heart is like music to his ears.

“Oh no,” he whispers seductively, “do not keep those delicious moans of yours from me, Darling. You promised to be good, remember?”

“Y-yes,” you say between heavy breaths- this time you are the one to surprise him by closing the space between the two of you with a needy kiss.

Astarion unlaces his fingers from yours as he begins unlacing your trousers- quickly discarding them to reveal your soaked underclothes. He growls involuntarily as the smell of your arousal hits the back of his throat- you smell incredible.

Astarion could leave it at just taking your pants off for now, but Gods does he want to see more and if you are willing to let him, then he is not going to deny himself the pleasure of being able to touch and kiss every inch of your body.

Your shirt is next and you don’t even fight it- helping him get the article of clothing off and helping him discard his shirt as well. Astarion stops and looks down upon your naked form.

“Gods you are exquisite,” Astarion says as he begins to kiss down your naval, “open your legs for me, Darling.”

He leaves tiny love bites as he goes- wanting to make sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to. You are a whimpering mess underneath his touch as he presses his fingers to your clothed clit- teasing you slowly.

“Asta-“

You are cut off by your own sounds of pleasure leaving your throat as he slips your underwear off- slowly pushing one finger into you while playing with your clit using his tongue. A string of curse words leaves your mouth as he begins to pick up the pace with his fingers and basks in the way pleasure looks on your face, how your body is writhing for him, and the tumbling praises for him echo through the clearing.

He rolls your sensitive nub between his teeth and he has to hold your hips down as you keen underneath his touch. Astarion adds a second finger- still meeting some resistance, but you aren’t stopping him, in fact- you are giving him complete access using your tadpole right now (intentionally or not) and he can feel how desperate you are to feel fuller. Then he adds the second fingers and the euphoria that rings through your body goes straight to his groan. Astarion can feel his cock straining against his pants as he brings you over the edge with his fingers and mouth- your sweet pleasure dripping down his chin and his fingers. He languidly cleans his fingers off with his mouth, humming in delight while making eye contact with you.

Your eyes are half lidded and glassy- your mouth is slightly parted open. He leans forward and leaves a chaste kiss on them and begins unlacing his own pants- slipping them off and throwing them to the side- his underwear quickly following.

Astarion lines himself up with your entrance- your orgasm coating the head of his cock and he has to fight the urge to slam into you right away. He lines himself up with your entrance- teasing you. You look more nervous now than lustful and Astarion feels his gaze soften. He hovers over you and caresses the side of your face with his thumb. The last thing he wants is to start with you in the wrong headspace.

"Wrap your legs around my waist."

You obediently comply- your back slightly arching and your pert nipples are touching his chest. You sigh in arousal at the contact.

“This may hurt a little,” he says, “we can stop whenever or however much you need- we can stop completely and try again another time even.

“But do you want me to continue?”

You smile up at him with relief and nod coyly.

“I trust you, but please go slow,” you whisper.

Astarion feels a tightness in his chest when you look up at him. Your eyes are so vulnerable and of all the people you’ve decided to trust you chose him. Astarion is fighting not to dissociate- wanting to give you his full attention.

Astarion slowly begins to push inside you. You cry out and clutch at his shoulders- taking a sharp breath as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. Astarion has to fight the want- no need to go faster- you are so damn tight and Astarion is almost wondering if he should have done more foreplay.

He rocks in and out of you- making sure to check on your facial expressions. There are tears pricking your eyes, but your look of discomfort is becoming more and more euphoric as he keeps rolling his hips into you gently.

“Hells darling,” Astarion manages to moan out through clenched teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”

You whimper at his praise and Astarion lifts you up by the hips so he can get a better angle. He thrusts a minuscule harder this time and the whimper that leaves your mouth is making him feel positively feral.

“Astarion,” you whine, “ple- please I need more.”

You definitely don’t have to tell him twice. Astarion snaps himself up into you at a faster pass- your keening only encouraging him to go faster- both of you moaning and gasping while clawing at each other. For the first time in the last 200 years- Astarion does not want to stop. Despite the feelings that are always there, this may be the only time he’s actually experienced bliss while being with someone.

"Such a good little pup, aren't you?"

You clench around him at his words, you beg him to fuck you harder, and he drops your hips back to the ground before putting his face into the crook of your neck- kissing and praising you as you ride out your high.

“You were such a good girl for me,” he breathes into your air, “thank you.”

Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging his lips to yours. If he needed air, the kiss would have suffocated him from how intense and wanting it was- the air between the both of you feels alive and Astarion barely registers that he’s finishing inside you until he’s collapsed on top of you- his head resting on your chest as it races in time with your breathing.

“That was amazing,” you say breathlessly and Astarion can’t help but laugh.

“I told you so.”

You plafully slap his arm and laugh- the sound filling his body with comfort. He can hear your heart beat begin to slow down and your breathing becomes deeper.

“Thank you Astarion,” you say sleepily, dozing off with your hands teasing his curls, “not just for this- for everything. I feel worth something when I’m with you.”

You yawn and Astarion tries to focus on the sound instead of the twisting guilt in his stomach. He cares for you too and that might be where he fucked up.

Your breathing quickly evens out and he is drowning in the smell of sex and rose water- a scent he heavily associates with you. Astarion stays there with his head on top of your chest- trying to get his bearings together. That was like no other sexual encounter he has experienced before- it was blissful- so why the hell is he about to have the melt down of the century?

“Shit,” you jolt awake, accidentally pushing Astarion off you- your eyes are still glassy “sorry I should probably not just fall asleep here- I’m sure you want to get back to your tent…”

Astarion pulls you back down and against his chest as if it’s exactly where you belong. The idea of you leaving right now makes his soul twist painfully. No, he needs you to stay. Existing is easier with you around- it has been since he met you on the beach.

“Stay,” he whispers, “please.”

There is a pause and he worries he may have overstepped his bounds. You look up at him with sleepy, kind eyes. If peace were to have a face- it would be yours.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” You smile at him sweetly.

The word leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, “pinkie promise?”

You give him the biggest, toothiest grin he has ever seen. Astarion is certain you may be the single most beautiful person he’s ever met.

You take his pinky in yours and then place a soft kiss against his cold lips.

As you pull away, you whisper against his mouth, “I pinky promise.”

[taexoxosgf]

FORMULA 1

PAIRING race car driver!lee mark x fem!reader

WORDS 3.5k

SYNOPSIS mark just looks too good to resist after his race.

WARNINGS explicit sexual content (too lazy to add deets), car sex, fluff, friends with benefits, they’re in denial lol

NOTES my first fic on tumblr <3 my bb

You spot Mark across the airport track.

Sitting in his newly acquired Nissan Skyline GT-R 34, one arm hangs out of the window. He lifts the same arm to bring a cigarette to his lips, the cloud of smoke seemingly following in slow motion. His hair damp due to the forgotten rain from the hour before. The same cherry red hair, now longer and styled, no longer covering his forehead. A piece dangling in front of his eyes.

Individuals began dispersing now that the race had ended. Of course, Mark was the first to cross the finish line. He always was.

You often attended his races but not solely for him. The people were always friendly, and any kind of race was exhilarating to watch. The cars maneuver between each other, attempting to avoid collision. If anyone of the racers tried to pull a trick and it went wrong, it would turn into something much scarier than a race.

You loved watching him race, even more, the activities afterward. You two weren’t by any means exclusive, but the both of you hadn’t been with anyone else since meeting each other. People could call it a situationship. Some label it as friends with benefits. Whatever it was, Mark’s texts were what you looked forward to late into the night. But today, he texts you earlier than usual.

ML: Enjoying the view?

ML: I know I am

You scoff, looking back up and immediately locking eyes with him. A smirk adorning his smug face.

ML: Come here.

You: I’m not gonna run to you like a dog. You come here.

ML: Baby don’t be like that

You: Stopped by to watch ur race. It’s over now, so I’m leaving

You: Bye

Not sparing him another glance, you make your way off the track. Feeling his eyes on you, your hips sway with every step. The denim mini-skirt you chose to wear rides up, and the backless top reveals the perfect amount of skin as Mark's eyes are glued to your figure.

People are standing outside their cars, talking, eating, the usual at car meets. It’s almost like a tailgate before a football game. The atmosphere was always welcoming and it was easy to make acquaintances that could turn into close friends.

There’s one every week, and having gone to them for the past 2 months, there are many familiar faces. You’ve even made close friends with Ningning, another racer, who you bonded with due to her beating Mark in a race when they were still rookies.

There’s Jaemin too, who you met through Ningning. He always greets you with a smile, his eyes staying on yours a little too long after every response.

Your conversations with Jaemin never last longer than five minutes with Mark always making up an excuse for you to leave. And when you finish protesting to Mark, you look back, and Jaemin is already 20 feet away, grabbing another plate of food with Ningning.

You’d like to think Mark gets jealous. Maybe he does, but then, you remind yourself of the mutual agreement of ‘no strings’ and remember he couldn’t be. So you push any second thoughts in the back of your mind.

Unlocking your car, your fingers are wrapped around the handle when another hand grabs ahold of your wrist, spinning you around to your back.

The cold exterior of the car hitting your bare back causes goosebumps to appear all over your body.

You’re met face-to-face with Mark. He is so close you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning your face while his lower body is completely pressed up against you. He’s got you trapped in between his arms; his hands placed flat onto the hood of the vehicle.

“Leaving so soon?”

You smirk at his inquiry, knowing he always gives in.

“Just came by to watch the race. The race is over, isn’t it?” Your nonchalant response comes out softer than intended, but he doesn’t see through you.

Mark doesn’t utter a word while you continue with the act. His dark orbs stare into yours and scan down, stopping at the stained lips in front of him. Before disrupting the silence, he uses his thumb to smear the lipstick at the corner of your lips outward. “I prefer your lipstick messy,” he says softly.

All you do is continue to look into his eyes with the corner of your lips curving upwards. His small meaningless comments have been igniting a fuzzy feeling in your chest lately. Even if it was playful.

You know what this means.

I don’t even want to think about it.

There was a mutual agreement, and you swore never to break it. But can one control it? If this unspoken feeling was true, you couldn’t bring yourself to end it, but your chest feels heavier every second you’re by his side. The walls you put up to protect yourself seem to crack a little more each time, worsening as you realize he doesn’t seem to have the same internal battles.

You think to yourself how it fucking sucks but suppress it because you’ll live.

Mark notices you’re thinking about something as your eyes dance around his face. He wants to ask you what it is that has you daydreaming, but he seizes the opportunity to admire you. You’re so beautiful. He wants to tell you, but you both know it crosses boundaries. The word was mutually agreed as too intimate, but it’s at the tip of his tongue. The urge to compliment you, to text you in the day rather than the middle of the night, to spend more time with you, he yearns for more. But you always play along with his games and seem content with what you both have now, so he doesn’t do anything to catch you off guard. It’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest when he sees you smile. This feeling is foreign to him, but Mark welcomes it.

“Wow, you have a way with words Mark Lee,” sarcasm oozing from your retort.

‘Fuck, say my full name again,” he exclaims as he throws his head back.

You fully laugh, your arm giving him a playful push to his shoulder. You’re both smiling ear-to-ear, the flirty mood turning into something different. It had been happening much more recently.

His body was still pressed onto yours, his arms caging you between himself and the car. Going onto your toes, you bring your lips to his. It’s a soft, sweet kiss.

As you lean back onto the car, Mark doesn’t utter another word. He simply kisses you again, a little rougher this time, and your arms immediately move around his neck. One of his arms snakes from the hood of the car to your ribcage, his fingertips slowly inching downwards and finally pressing harder at the curve of your waist.

The kiss was what you could say, electric. It was as if the spark began at your lips and the electricity followed down to Mark’s erect length, currently already straining against his jeans. What you didn’t know was Mark had been thinking about you all day. When he would see your face, when he would speak to you, and what you would say as he was in between your legs. All the unrequited feelings and lust you both felt pouring into this kiss and every kiss before and after.

Your lips fit each other perfectly, moving in sync. Mark swallows your moan when you feel your tongue caressing against his. He was so enamored with you, having difficulty coming out from the daze that is you.

You finally pull back to catch your breath; Lips swollen and the nude lipstick smudged. You’re panting heavily against his mouth and your fingertips feel as if they’re leaving crescent marks around his neck. The lust between Mark and yourself was something you never experienced before. Being turned on just from a short makeout was nonexistent until Mark. If you were to check your panties right now, you’re sure they would be soaked; feeling as if you’re losing sanity every second that passes.

“You know, if you were good and just walked over to my car earlier, I would have made you come twice by now.” He’s gazing at you with those hooded eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing while he swallows. You’re playfully trailing your nails against his neck and notice the purple marks that once covered it are now faded. I’ll have to fix that.

You then notice the goosebumps that appear on his skin as your nails graze his skin.

“Since when do you like good girls?”

Mark’s inked hand plays with the strands of hair that hover over your cheekbones and continue to trace your jawline until they reach your chin. He holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, lifting it to bring your face closer to his.

He’s still looking at you with naked lust. His head tilted to the side while his lips are practically touching yours.

“I did until I met you.”

“Shit,” you rasp against Mark’s mouth.

One minute you were standing outside and now you are in the backseat of his fucking brand new car making out like you both had not seen each other in months. It was always like this, aggressive and full of want. But you loved it. Mark knew you did, so he never hesitated on being rougher in bed.

You're straddling his thighs and it feels as if he’s everywhere at once. The feel of his warm hands palms your ass, guiding you as you grind on his clothed cock that becomes harder by the second. It feels too good, chasing euphoria every time you’re with him. “Oh my god,” you pant against his mouth. It isn’t long before you feel the grip of his fingers as he pries your mouth open, not hesitating to slip his tongue into it again.

Your fingers are running through his hair, pulling on his black locks as the makeout becomes more intense, and Mark grunts at the feeling.

His sounds turn you on even more. The kiss is still messy and hot as he slightly bucks his hips upwards, creating more friction. Your bodies mold together, fitting each other perfectly like a puzzle.

You break away from his lips to trail kisses from his jawline down his neck, sucking and nipping to leave fresh marks against his collarbone. His head leans further back against the headrest, closing his eyes to enjoy your touch. He’s panting harder now, the sounds erupting from his throat being music to your ears. It only encourages you further, but you don’t notice his hand skimming your inner thigh.

His fingers, which are painted in ink, shift higher in an attempt to move your panties underneath your skirt to the side, but they come directly in contact with your slick.

“Fucking shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?” he asks you, and you hum in response, still working at his neck.

“Slut. Slut who always just wants to fuck. Nothing else.”

“Your slut. Who always just wants to get fucked by you,” you whisper; Swollen lips grazing his ear as the words leave them.

He says nothing more with words, responding by slipping two fingers into you.

You gasped at the sudden force. It feels too good, but he doesn’t move. He just looks at you with a look you can't comprehend.

Your fingers inch up to move a curl out of his eyes. “Move, please Mark.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You were surprised by the sudden expression. One moment he was acting like he always does, then he offered you small compliments. Though it was weird timing to be sentimental, you couldn’t help but feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks. It catches you off guard and the fuzzy feeling you never experienced before meeting him comes back. The same fuzzy feeling in your lower stomach came and went with certain words like these, not just his actions. It starts to scare you because every time, it seems you both stray further from the initial agreement.

“What’s gotten you so cheesy all of a sudden?” your eyes avoid him while you play with the same long curl.

“Nothing. Just wanted to let you know,” he offers a small smile. You swear you see a hint of something loving in his eyes. But it couldn’t be, you think. He’s just saying things in the heat of the moment.

You brush off what could be Mark’s slight falter from his strong persona; no longer avoiding his eyes, you connect your lips to his once again.

He gives in, both of you melting into the kiss. It's too intoxicating yet again. Both of your hands are on each other as if the other would somehow disappear.

His fingers begin to move, and you gasp against his mouth because you had forgotten Mark’s fingers were still inside of you due to his statement. Your surprise only allows him immediately to go for your neck; kissing your sensitive spots. Nipping and licking over it to slightly ease the burn.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet.”

He speeds up the pace, curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot. The relief only increases as you get closer to your orgasm. Jaw slacked open as you pant against his ear.

“ Mark, right there,” you mewl.

His fingers are so deep inside you, and he finally adds a third finger. You already feel full, and think about how good his cock would feel after the satisfying burn. Of course, that wasn’t enough for Mark, so his thumb begins circling your clit, adding more stimulation. The sensation is too good to describe, and you roll your hips, grinding onto his fingers in hopes of increasing the amount of pleasure.

You’re a mess. Already feeling fucked out before taking his cock and your pussy continues to swallow Mark’s inked fingers as the arousal continues to drip down, the sound letting you know of the mess you’re making. But you don’t pay any mind to it, too focused on the feeling in your lower stomach increasing.

“Please Mark. Faster. Don’t stop,” you pant out as you chase the awaited high.

“Love it when you beg,” he whispers. His hot breath against your lobe.

Your eyes squeeze shut as the wave of your orgasm arrives before you can utter a warning. Mark continues to pump his fingers inside of you, the pleasure becoming more intense. You whimper against his neck as you ride out your orgasm.

Mark pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth. He makes sure you’re watching as his tongue licks a long stripe from his knuckles, finally wrapping his lips around his fingers.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he praises.

As the corner of your lips lifts, your hand is already unbuttoning his jeans. Slipping your hands in, you begin to palm his cock through his boxers, Mark attempting to suppress a low groan from your actions. The sound alone has you trying to squeeze your thighs together; even after the intense orgasm you just experienced. Only Mark could make you feel this way. He was the only one who could turn you on as much as he did.

“Don’t tease, slut.”

“Just having some fun,” you counter against his mouth.

As you help Mark slip his pants and boxers off, his cock is fully hard, the pink tip leaking precum. Mark’s dick was on the larger side, making you feel full every time you both would have sex. It had surprised you the first time, expecting it to be average, but it definitely was not. This motherfucker knew it too, assuring you that ‘you could take it’ as he roughly thrusted in and out of you.

“Spit on it,” he demands.

From the straddle position on his thighs, you lower your head, letting saliva slowly drip down onto his cock.

Mark gives praise with a ‘good girl’ as you stroke him. You finally reposition onto your knees beside his thighs, feeling his rough hands on your waist before helping you lower yourself onto him. As you’re slowly sinking onto his cock, you both gasp.

Mark roughly smashes his lips by pulling onto your neck as you adjust to his size.

The feeling was literal heaven.

Oh, how you could never get used to this.

His long fingers are wrapped around your neck, squeezing as you start to slowly grind against his cock. He swallows your moans and your fingers that were initially gripping his hair move to his shoulders and you finally pull back to begin bouncing on his cock.

Your pussy envelops his cock, squeezing at the intense amount of pleasure that runs through your veins.

Mark finds himself marveling at your breasts bouncing in front of him, immediately wrapping his lips around your nipples. His fingers dig into your skin as the pleasure increases for the both of you.

A breathy whimper emits from your throat and it takes everything to not close your eyes. Mark hated when you closed your eyes, always wanting to look at you as arousal bled through your orbs.

“How are you always this tight baby? Fuck,” he rasps. Looking at him, you can say he’s almost as fucked out as you. You knew Mark well enough to know when he was feeling more than he let on.

You whimpered as a response. The small moans and wet sounds of skin slapping filled the empty air of the vehicle. Mark continues to squeeze your throat, the pressure only heightening the feeling in your lower torso. At the inkling of your orgasm, Mark feels you clench around him and groans against your tits.

As you’re bouncing on his cock, Mark matches your rhythm and bucks his hips into you, hitting your g-spot. It’s rough and fast, the brutal pace causing your moans to heighten in pitch. You couldn’t take it anymore. The imaginary band in your stomach is on the verge of snapping again. You were so sensitive from the first orgasm that the second one was not far from reach.

“Ma-arkk, so close,” you yelp, emitting words that were almost incoherent.

“Come for me baby, milk my cock.”

Putting all your remaining energy into riding him, you feel Mark’s fingers leave your waist and trail down to your clit, pressing circles. “Fuck! Mark!”

This was all you needed to come undone, your eyes squeezing shut and your body freezing momentarily as the overwhelming high washes over you. Your pussy tightens around his cock, spasming but not stopping Mark from continuing to drive his length into you with renewed vigor.

“Fuck baby, you’ll make me-”

Your mouth is open in an ‘o.’ A moan threatening to leave your throat but nothing is heard.

“Shit, you’re so tight right now,” Mark utters, throwing his head back against the headrest. He lets go of your throat, placing both of his hands at your waist to now reach his high. As he continues to abuse your cunt, all is heard are your sobbed curses into his shoulder, the intense feeling still lingering.

Your body was loose, facial features neutralizing as you come down from your euphoria. You were tired, having difficulty helping Mark but tried your best to move. The burning feeling in your thighs came and grew stronger but you could tell he was close due to his features scrunching slightly, focus becoming blurred.

The tension building in his body was on the verge of snapping. He was so close, wanting it so badly for the reason that the high of the orgasm seeped through his veins like a drug.

“Inside of me. Want you to fill me up Lee,” your voice enough to be the last straw for Mark.

His body began to heat up, nothing but one last shout of your name as he came into you.

“Fuck.”

You were spent every time, your limp body falling forward onto him. Your cheek rested on his shoulder, nothing but silence and warmth pervading the air.

Mark’s slender fingers dance on your thighs, both of you savoring the comfortable tranquility before he reaches up to your chin to bring your face to his.

“Lemme take you out on a date. For real. A real date.”

You chuckle at his confession, mistaking it for a funny gag. “Ha-ha very funny.”

“I’m being serious. You don’t think I like you?” he replies slightly taken aback.

“I just thought you didn’t want anything serious. What changed?”

His orbs stare into yours for a few seconds before he responds. “You. I wanna take you out on a date because I really like you.”

“I like you too, Mark.” It was a relief to finally be able to say it out loud.

“But you just came in me, so maybe date talk later?” you chuckle.

“Okay, bet. I can work with that,” he says before smashing his lips onto yours once again, never getting sick of the enigma that is you.

[hs-is-loml]

Defending. (x.t)

PART ONE OF TWO

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: wednesday tells you about her suspicions about xavier but you come to his defense and are determined to find proof to prove her wrong

Warnings: mentions of making a small cut, very little like a drop of blood, hydes? (those ugly mfs) NOT PROOFREAD

a/n: this is going to be in two parts, but part two will be posted late 12/1 or early 12/2 depending on when i finish writing it! it's basically a smut fic for part two which is why i decided to split it up in case people are not comfortable with it!

masterlist - part two

“Now, this is too far,” you said to Wednesday as she told you about her suspicions about Xavier being the monster.

“All the evidence points to him.”

 “Wednesday, it’s not him.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re in a relationship with him,” the girl argued back with her.

“No shit, Wednesday. I know him enough to know he’s not. You think I wouldn’t notice by now if he were going around town killing people?”

“You’re letting this blind your judgment,” Wednesday stated. 

“NEWS FLASH WEDNESDAY HE’S NOT THE HYDE! WOULD IT KILL YOU THINK FOR ANYONE BUT YOURSELF?!” you yelled at the girl who just raised her eyebrows back at you.

“What are you going to do when you find out he is?”

“Nothing,” you answered softly you could feel a headache coming from yelling, “There’s nothing to find out.” You walked back inside from the balcony and exited the room before you felt like destroying anything, and Enid would get mad at the mess later.

You wandered around the school before you came upon the statute of Edgar Allen Poe. You sat down near the statute wanting to clear your mind for a second before you looked up and realized the mark beneath the book he was holding. You tried to recall what your mom would always tell you as a kid about the Nightshade Society. 

“He was notorious for his riddles. For it was not one alone, but each line was individual. One to remember is, ‘The answer will give a sharp cracking sound,’ that will help you once you find it,” was something she always mentioned when she talked about Nevermore. 

“A sharp cracking sound,” you repeated as you stood from your spot and it clicked, or more so snapped into place. You raised your right arm and snapped two times. “Thank you, Nightshade Society.”

You walked down the staircase into the dimly lit library. The portraits that hung on the wall of old members caught your eye as you looked about the room. At the end of the portraits you find your parents, they tell you to make a name for yourself, but how could you live up to them? 

“You put that bag over my head, I will choke you with that very rope in your hands,” you warned the people who stood behind you as you looked for your mom’s diary knowing that would be the only thing you could find answers in. “You should know to not mess with a witch with heightened senses.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n, we were just trying to have fun,” Kent joked causing the other to mutter in agreement. 

“I WASN’T GOING TO DO ANYTHING I SWEAR,” Xavier yelped once he notice it was you and threw the bag in his hands to Ajax.

“Someone’s in the dog house tonight…” Yoko teased. Kent and a couple of the others gave a couple howls joining in the joke.

“You know Xavier you could’ve told me about this,” you said as you finally found your mother’s diary. 

“Babe, if I could, I would’ve-”

“He’s sworn to secrecy,” Bianca pointed out as she gave you a dirty look when you walked to a desk with the diary in your arms.

You pulled it out to see she sealed it with magic though not any kind of magic, blood magic. “My family was a part of the Nightshades long before you, although I thought it to be disbanded.”

“Yeah, the group kind of lost its charter 30 years ago after some normie kid died,” Xavier explained which answered your thoughts as he walked up to you noticing that you were looking for something. 

“But we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves,” Yoko added on. 

“What are you looking for anyways?” Xavier questioned you.

“If you’re trying to open your mom’s diary, you can’t,” Bianca told you cockingly. 

“Maybe you can’t,” you retorted just when you noticed a letter opener sitting at the corner of the table. 

You reached over and grabbed it seeing that it had a sharp edge. You noticed from your peripheral vision that the group was crowding around you to see what you were doing. Xavier was right next to you with his attention on the knife you held in your hand. You lifted your right hand over the book and took the knife to your palm just before it touched your skin you heard shouts from around the room.

“Y/N!”

“Woah, girl, no need to prove a point.”

“No need for bloodshed-”

“What are you doing?!”

“No, no, no, no, absolutely not,” you heard Xavier say as he tried to grab for the knife, but it was too late. “Oh my god, only you. Literally, you’re the only one who would do this.”

You sliced the inside of your palm and allowed for the knife to drop down onto the table as you felt the sting in your palm. You closed your fist and put it directly above the lock on the book. You felt the blood sweep down near the bottom of your fist before it dropped down into the lock. 

“Blood magic?” Yoko asked in amazement when she saw the lock unlatch and you opened to the front page that held your mom’s portrait along with her signature. 

“Only the very best for mother dearest,” you remark sarcastically.

“That explains a lot!” Kent said from behind as Xavier looked around for a first aid kit. “Bianca was trying to open that months ago and nothing would work!” right as the words left his mouth, Bianca smacked him in the back of the head causing him to groan in pain, “Well, ow.”

When Xavier finally found a first aid kit that looked like it could be decades old, he went back to your side and held out his palm to you. Putting your sliced palm in his hand without him even having to ask you. 

“I couldn’t find any actual alcohol to disinfect it, so vodka will have to do,” he unscrewed the bottle with one hand and looked back into your eyes before you gave him a slight nod telling him it was okay for him to do it. “This might sting.”

“Oh shit, I can’t watch,” Ajax gagged as the vodka was poured onto your palm and the blood washed away with it. 

“Makes the both of us,” another member said.

“Stop being babies, people would think you’re the one with the cut palm,” you told them off as taking in the pain with no reaction. “At least I have a hot doctor patching me up,” you smirked.

“Only for you,” Xavier muttered as he focused on wrapping the bandage around your hand. At this point, almost all the members already left not wanting to see what you and Xavier get up to.

“Thanks, babe,” giving him a kiss on the cheek before returning your attention back to your mother’s diary. 

“What was so important that you have to look into your mom’s diary?” he asked you. “You’re looking for answers, but for what?”

“Any information about hydes.”

“That’s the monster, Wednesday was talking about right?”

“The same one she believes you to be, yes.” you look up from the diary to see his confused expression.

“Wait, me?” he wondered aloud.

“I told her it wasn’t you though, but that girl is the most stubborn person I have ever met,” you informed him taking one of his hands in your non-injured one to give it a tight squeeze in reassurance. “You have to be careful, I know you’re not the Hyde, but she is going to do everything she can to prove her point.”

“I love you.” he blurted out to you. “You could’ve easily believed her, but you didn’t.”

“I know you, Xavier. There’s no damn way in hell, I’m going to let you be falsely accused for something you so obviously are not,” you stated. “And, I love you, that’s why I’m trying to see if my mother knew anything about Hydes during her time here,” you smiled at him.

You turned to put the diary back onto the desk as you hurriedly flipped through the pages scanning for any kind of information on the damn monster. You were about to turn to another page just before you noticed a name you’ve heard of before. Francois Sylvanne. Xavier moved to stand behind you leaning over your shoulder to read the diary as well. He placed his hands on your hips to steady himself causing you to lean back into him.

“Seems like Wednesday’s little boy toy just got way more interesting,” you pointed to the name on the page for Xavier to read. 

“Who is she?”

“His mother. The same one he goes to therapy for, I heard she died a while back, and apparently the sheriff isn’t only bad at his job but bad at parenting too,” you explained as you read more of your mom’s writing.

There’s something about this girl. She keeps to herself. Quiet. Distance. Truly an Outcast. I have a feeling something is going on with her or at least something will. I’m going to keep a close eye on her, but she is graduating this year.

“Weird, your mom always has good intuition, I wonder if she’s right about this one too,” Xavier said after he read your mother’s entry. 

You flipped through more pages of the book and found nothing. You looked at every line on the pages, and your mother never mentioned her once again. It wasn’t until you got to the last page of the diary to see a quite messier version of your mother’s writing.

THAT GIRL IS A HYDE. FRANCOIS IS A HYDE. HIDDEN AWAY WITH A NORMIE IN THE TOWN. 

“No,” you gaped as you turned to see nothing more and reached the end of the book.

“Do you think Tyler’s the Hyde?” he whispered into your ear.

“It’s the only way. It makes sense too,” you claimed, “But the question is why?” 

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [1]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Teaser | Fic Masterlist | Part 2

Park Seonghwa.

As pretty as it may sound, that name was known across the nation as the intimidating military general trusted by His Majesty, the King, to lead the royal army.

For those who have not had the privilege of encountering him in person, the assumption might be of a rugged and perhaps middle-aged individual, given his extensive experience on the battlefield and high military rank. And those who have met him will know that his beauty was just as deadly.

But there's more to it – his renown extends beyond the confines of martial prowess. The general has garnered a reputation for scaring away all potential marriage candidates. His cold nature isn't limited to the battlefield; it extends to his personal life, affecting even the people closest to him.

In essence, Seonghwa was not a figure most people would look forward to meeting at all. If anything, most tended to avoid him like the plague. His name alone was enough to instil terror, be it in enemies, common folk, or even nobles.

But he was more than fine with it.

The general took pleasure in the fear that gripped anyone crossing his path. He had no interest in being loved or admired. The bloodshed inherent in his job brought him ample satisfaction, and the accompanying title and wealth were merely added perks.

One thing that irked him more than anything else was the King's relentless insistence that he should marry.

You see, he lacked the capacity for love, having grown up devoid of any such affection. All he cared for was his own survival. He understood, more than anyone, that trust was a rare commodity on this earth. Those close to him always harboured their own motives. The concept of genuine love or care was as good as non-existent in his dictionary.

His parents, if they could even be called that, abandoned him by a dumpster outside an orphanage. Born prematurely and deemed likely to die soon, they left him for dead. However, his determination to survive surpassed all expectations. He fought through the years and emerged as the person he is today.

Seonghwa's entire childhood was marked by brawls fighting for survival and to earn a living. But then fate took a turn when a perceptive military soldier scouted him, recognising the untapped potential within.

Rising from the bottom, his borderline cold-blooded character propelled him swiftly up the ranks, achieving remarkable progress within just a couple of years. His notoriety soon echoed in the ears of the King, and almost in the blink of an eye, he ascended to become one of the youngest generals in history.

And that was how he learned, through the hard way, that one would have to be useful in order to be valued. He has seen enough to understand it was a dog-eat-dog world.

The King favoured him solely for his skills, his servants stuck around for the generous pay, and every potential spouse presented to him was merely interested in his wealth or title.

This time would be no different.

"Seonghwa-yah, you're not young anymore, my boy. It's time for you to get married and have a few kids. Otherwise, who would succeed you? It would be such a shame for your bloodline to die with you." His Majesty said, a concerned frown creasing his wrinkled forehead.

The general lowered his head to conceal the smirk on his face. See? That's exactly what he meant. One would be foolish to believe that the King genuinely wanted the best for him; all the old man cared about was ensuring the continuation of his legacy.

Before Seonghwa could present another argument, as he always did, the King raised a hand to halt him, "That's enough; you have rejected all my previous proposed matches and deliberately scared off some of your betrothed as well. I may have been too lenient with you. This time, you will get married, and that's final."

He gripped the hilt of his sword in frustration, "But, your Majesty—"

The King shook his head, "Seonghwa, you will be stripped of your title if you do not cooperate."

That was enough to silence him.

He had worked tirelessly to reach his current position; it would be stupid to jeopardise it all over a refusal to marry. The whole idea seemed utterly outrageous; the old man must be senile to be threatening him over something so trivial.

But what choice did he have?

None.

"Fine, as you wish." The general sighed.

His Majesty's demeanour swiftly changed, breaking into laughter and applause, "Oh, that's wonderful! We already have a perfect candidate for you anyway. The Minister of Military Affairs has offered his eldest daughter's hand. I'm sure she would make a lovely wife for you."

"Has he now? How thoughtful of him."

Seonghwa wasn't stupid; he recognised that the minister harboured resentment regarding his recent ascent in the ranks. The old fool was undoubtedly anxious about preserving his own position and was actively exploring ways to subdue the younger man's progress, going to great lengths just to keep the general from outranking him.

As the assembly with the King concluded that day, Minister Jang was quick to intercept Seonghwa before he could exit the palace, "General Park, I eagerly anticipate our forthcoming union. I assure you, my eldest is a gem; you'll come to adore her." The elder man remarked smugly.

"Oh, I'm sure I will." He sneered, shrugging off the minister's hand before storming off.

Arriving at his estate, a servant approached the general with a tray of tea, "Welcome home, master," Having suppressed his anger for too long, he couldn't hold back any longer. He smacked the tray out of the poor woman's hands, growling, "Get out of my goddamned sight this instant." She bowed repeatedly, apologising profusely as she picked up the tray and the broken cup before scurrying away.

He slammed the door to his study open, nearly scaring the living daylights out of his only trusted aide, Jongho, "S-sir, is everything alright?" The assistant asked tentatively.

Seonghwa grumbled as he kicked his desk aside to sit in his chair, "The King demanded that I get married and even threatened to strip me of my title if I refused. I need you to dig up some information on Minister Jang's family; that man is up to something."

Jongho bowed once and rushed off to do as he was told, "Will do, sir."

Glaring at his desk, he clenched his fists at the thought of his future wife. Considering her hateful father, she likely resembled him. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He was more than ready to face the likes of her, having successfully scared off a few spoiled brats before.

More unbearable to him than the King's incessant pressure for him to marry was the presence of irritating little pests, manifested in the form of noblewomen from wealthy families—the entitled sort who believed they were superior to everyone else.

All the encounters he had experienced so far were with that particular breed. If given the chance, he would gladly eradicate every single one of those seemingly useless, good-for-nothing individuals. Without a doubt, his wife-to-be would be another one of those insufferable girls.

Be prepared, wife. Life is about to become quite exhilarating for you.

"Gather around, kids. I have news!" Your father announced as he entered the family estate, cheerfully wrapping his arm around his second wife, your stepmother.

"What's going on, father?" Jinah asked, eagerly joining her two sisters, Jinhee and Jinjoo.

The man let out a tired sigh when he realised you were nowhere in sight, "Where is she?"

Jinhee scoffed, "You mean unnie? In her cage, of course. This is a family meeting; why would we need her around?"

The minister directed a nearby servant, "Fetch her to the main hall; I have an announcement to make." The three sisters and their mother exchanged intrigued glances, wondering what this unexpected proclamation could entail.

Staring numbly out of your tiny room window, you ponder the meaning of life. What was the point of being born if every member of your own family shunned you? To be fair, only your father is family; your stepmother and stepsisters are mere outsiders. Yet, even he hasn't bothered to treat you as such.

Your mother might have been the sole person to ever love you, but you couldn't possibly be sure. Unfortunately, she hadn't been alive long enough for you to remember much about her.

Could she have had any love for you, even when she herself lacked affection from her own husband?

That, you'll never know the answer to.

You've heard that your father had no choice but to marry your mother for political reasons and that your stepmother had been his mistress at the time. When your mother finally fell sick and died, he seized the opportunity to marry the harlot and take in all three of her bastard daughters.

Life has been nothing but hell ever since.

No one has treated you like a lady from a noble house; not even the servants were allowed to do so.

All you could remember was pain.

Endless pain all throughout your childhood.

In fact, the pain still persisted until this day, you felt it acutely in the numerous spots on your body, each a testament to the beatings you endured regularly as punishment. And those punishments were often for things you didn't do—blatant lies told by your stepsisters that your father used as an excuse to unleash his wrath.

Excluded from all family activities, even meals, you survived on leftovers and were confined to your quarters with nothing to occupy your time. It felt as if you were treated worse than the estate's servants, receiving only enough sustenance to keep you alive. You were more like a punching bag, there solely for their tormenting pleasure.

No one would acknowledge you in this household. You were as good as dead until one of your family members wished to have some fun, your misery providing the best entertainment.

So, imagine your surprise when you were summoned to the main hall for an announcement. Why does your presence suddenly matter? The curiosity gnaws at you as you reluctantly make your way to the gathering, wondering what twist of fate awaits you this time.

Cowering shamefully, you faced the evident disgust in your stepmother's and stepsisters' eyes as they took in your shabby appearance.

You struggled to figure out where to sit.

Approaching the only available seat next to the youngest, Jinjoo, you trudged over timidly, only for her to intentionally spill her cup of tea on the chair, "Oops! My bad, unnie. I guess you'll have no choice but to stand." You wished the ground would swallow you as everyone around snickered into their fists.

You looked over to your father, hoping he might stand up for you, only for your heart to sink in disappointment as usual when he averted his gaze with a clear of his throat, "Alright, now that you're all here, I have news to share." He announced, leaving you standing awkwardly in the corner, unnoticed and unwanted.

"Something interesting happened at the assembly with His Majesty this morning," Your father announced, capturing everyone's attention. All eyes were on him, eagerly awaiting the big revelation of this announcement, "The King has pressured General Park to marry once again, and this time, he was serious."

You noticed the expressions of your stepsisters turning fearful at the mere mention of the famous general.

"I figured it would be good to establish a connection with the general, considering his powerful standing in the military. So, I offered my daughter's hand to him in marriage."

Your stepsisters all gasped simultaneously.

"Father! How could you do such a thing to us?! Haven't you heard? That general is a monster! He scared off all of his previous fiancées. Do you have any clue how he'll treat us?" Jinah screeched tearfully.

But her mother calmed her with a sly smile, "Oh, you silly girls, why did you think your elder sister is here for?"

Oh.

Remaining rooted to the spot, you took in the shocking news. Your supposed family cheered at the announcement, their excitement palpable.

"Oh, unnie! You're finally making yourself useful for once!" Jinhee laughed, and your father nodded, a smirk playing on his lips, "That's right, my dear. You've always struggled to find a purpose in life, haven't you? Perhaps you'll grow to love your new life with General Park. I'm sure he'll take good care of you."

Everything turned into a blur as they celebrated what felt like your demise. Dismissed to your quarters, you retreated, letting the weight of the information sink in.

You had heard of General Park; how could you not? He was only the most feared person in the entire country.

Perhaps, in a twisted way, that could be a good thing. If he were to end your miserable life once and for all, it might be a mercy for you too.

After all, you had had enough of this life.

On the day you were set to marry Park Seonghwa, you were puzzled to find a group of servants sent to your quarters, armed with some of the finest clothes you'd ever seen, "What is this?" You questioned, eyeing the luxurious garments with scepticism.

The head of the maids sighed, "Young miss, you are marrying as the eldest daughter of Minister Jang. Surely, you have to at least look the part, yes?"

Oh.

That made sense.

Of course, it was all to make your father look good. Who would care about you?

Resigned, you sat like a doll as they worked on enhancing your appearance, transforming you into a vision of refinement. You observed their extra effort to conceal the remnants of bruises and scars from years of torture.

"All done." The head maid declared as they turned you around to face the mirror. As your eyes met your reflection, you failed to recognise the person staring back at you. You hadn't known you were capable of looking... what do they call it? Beautiful?

But this was only temporary.

You couldn't possibly fool the general forever with makeup. Sooner or later, he would see just how ugly and broken you were underneath all these artificial lies. And he, too, will be just as disgusted as everyone else. When that happens, you are mentally prepared for all the possible outcomes.

How much worse could it get?

After all, you had already endured a lifetime of hell. Surely, the torment couldn't be as severe as what you had experienced all these years... right?

One of the elderly servants, always watching you from a distance with pity in her eyes, approached you as the others dispersed. Her frail but warm hand landed on your shoulder as you met her gaze through the mirror.

With a kind smile, she nodded encouragingly, "I hope you find happiness out there, young miss." You didn't know why your eyes grew wet at those words as you watched her leave with the rest. The unexpected warmth in her gesture lingered, and for a moment, a spark of hope ignited within you.

Happiness?

You weren't sure you even knew what that word meant, but perhaps you'll learn the meaning of it outside of these walls. These walls that felt so much like prison all these years, it's almost funny how it was supposed to be your home.

Truthfully, you didn't think you'd ever live to see the day you would be allowed to leave this wretched place. Caged in here all your life, does anyone even know of your existence?

Perhaps not.

Well, now they might.

Heading to the entrance of the Jang estate, you carried little belongings, close to none.

Your family stood around, excited to see you off. The devious smirks on your stepsisters' faces faltered slightly at your transformed appearance before they scoffed, "Who would've thought? Guess you could actually fool someone looking like that. Just wait till he realises how useless you actually are." Jinhee sneered.

But Jinjoo snickered, "Oh, I'm sure she'll be useful in certain ways."

Jinah burst into laughter at the implication, "Oh yes! Give us plenty of nieces and nephews to play with, yeah?"

Your face burned with humiliation as they made fun of you, as they always did, "That is if she's strong enough to survive him in the first place." Your stepmother muttered, chuckling slyly.

Your father took a step toward you, "There's no time to waste; now get going. Don't you dare make me look bad."

You bowed before turning to leave, but a surge of courage prompted you to look back at your father one last time, croaking, "Father... have you truly never cared for me at all? For my happiness?"

He clenched his jaw, his response cutting, "Don't make me laugh; you and that mother of yours have only ever been a pain to me."

That hurt.

Why did it hurt?

It wasn't news to you. But still, it hurt.

"You want happiness? Find it with him then."

« Preview of Part 2 »

The night before the wedding, Seonghwa lifted his gaze from his scrolls to find his aide arriving slightly out of breath, "Have you found anything, Jongho?"

The assistant nodded after bowing, "Not much on the rest of the family; everything about them is just as known by the public. However, I did uncover more information about the eldest daughter, your bride."

The general straightened in his seat, "What about her?"

With a frown, Jongho continued, "It seems not much is known about her, despite being the eldest. She's the only daughter of Minister Jang's first wife, and no one has seen her set foot out of the estate since her mother's passing. Most sources claim her to be a mystery."

Seonghwa smirked, leaning back in his chair, "She must be quite precious for her father to keep her hidden all these years. Oh, I'll treat her well, all right. Get the head maid to prepare her quarters."

Jongho nodded curtly, feeling a chill run down his spine as he witnessed the sarcastic grin on his master's face.

"Only the best for future Lady Park."

I just want to emphasise that this is NOT a sequel/prequel or extension to Seonghwa's part from my 'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series. This is a completely different story taking place in an entirely different universe.

Also, while this may be in the Joseon era, I do apologise if some of the details may not be historically accurate. After all, this is only a work of fiction, so please enjoy!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts, feedback or reviews! I love hearing all about it! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[keqism]

⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ⊰

.࿔ feat. childe, xiao, scaramouche, diluc, heizou, tighnari

.࿔ premise. L-O-V-E doesn't always have to be vocalized

.࿔ cw. fluff, gn!reader, modern au, mentions of alcohol, two swear words, pet names, use of childe's real name

.࿔ notes. reposting because this app hates me and i accidentally deleted the original post.

𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓) ≀ feat. childe

childe always makes time to call you when he’s away on his business trips. regardless of the time difference, he'll facetime you from his hotel room. some days he's rowdy, loudly chattering about his shady fatui dealings; other times, he's quieter, a little sadder. he'll softly ask you about your day, perfectly content with listening to your sweet voice while tracing the pixels of your face on his phone. he'll never admit it but he can't sleep well without you, sometimes tucking a pillow into his side and pretending that it's your body.

"ajax you should go to sleep." your frowning face peers at him through the screen, examining his droopy eyes.

"but i wanna hear your voice," he slurs, his words muffled by the blankets drawn up to his chin. "i miss you so much."

"you're such a baby," you tease, although your bittersweet smile tells him that you miss him as well. "alright, i'll stay on call until you fall asleep." 

childe offers you a drowsy grin in response, nestling deeper into his blankets. the hotel bed is a little too cold for his liking, but your voice fills the room, warming his body and lulling him further into his dreams. 

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ≀ feat. xiao

it's a running joke among your friends that xiao is like a cat: aloof and stubborn with a hidden curious side. you would have to disagree though because xiao protects you like a vigilant guard dog. he'll switch places with you so that he's walking on the outside of the sidewalk, an arm timidly wrapped around your waist. at parties, he'll clutch your drink to his chest like it's a newborn baby, one hand firmly planted over the top. you can always feel his gaze from across the room, warding off any bold individuals who have the nerve to approach you. 

"xiao, dance with me!" you're a little tipsy, wobbling as you turn to face your boyfriend.

xiao's breath catches in his throat. you're beautiful, hair messy and lips curving up into a shy grin. it drives him crazy, the way you cling to his arm for balance and gaze at him with those mesmerizing eyes. 

i'm whipped, he sighs as you tug him through the crowd of people, wrapping your hands around his neck as a slower song plays through the speakers. he pulls you into him protectively, swaying to the beat of the music. for a moment, the sweaty bodies around you disappear; it's just you and him, slow dancing in the dark.

𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 ≀ feat. scaramouche

scaramouche—unwillingly—lets you include him in your self-care days. every friday night, you'll sit him down on your living room floor and lay out ten different face masks for him to choose. he'll begrudgingly rest his head in your lap while you apply the face mask (play with his hair and he'll fall asleep). if you're lucky, he might let you tweeze his eyebrows, although he'll complain loudly about the pain and grumble about how you tweezed one brow higher than the other. 

you plop down onto the couch with a groan, feeling the ache in your muscles. absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, you feel a pair of eyes burn into the side of your head.

"yes, scara?" you hum, intrigued by a video of the latest celebrity scandal.

suddenly, your phone is snatched from your hand and you find yourself pinned under a body. scaramouche hovers over you, glowering at your figure underneath him.

"scara, what the fuck?"

his scowl deepens. "it's friday, idiot, you're forgetting something."

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓™ ≀ feat. diluc

some say you're in it for the money, that you're only dating diluc for the ragnvindr clan's wealth. others claim that it's a fake relationship. diluc must have hired you to date him to maintain his status as mondstadt's number one bachelor. but what they don't know, is that you're in it for the coat. diluc ragnvindr's coat is what you would describe as heaven on earth: warm with a comforting weight and a lingering scent of your favorite pyro vision holder. you love wearing it and he loves to see you wearing it. the weather outside is slightly chilly? coat. you accidentally forgot an umbrella during a date? coat. fuck the rumors; you're not a gold digger, you're just very much in love with diluc—and his coat.

the loud thud of the dawn winery doors announces diluc's entrance. it's evening by the time he returns from his duties; he's exhausted and would rather be in bed with you tucked into his side. 

quietly, diluc enters your shared bedroom, only to find an empty, cold bed waiting for him. he frowns. you should have been in bed by now. his footsteps echo as he hastily makes his way down the hallway, panic rising in his throat. flinging the doors to his study open, diluc's eyes land on your sleeping figure, curled up in the armchair by his desk.

diluc slowly approaches you, brushing a hand against your cheek. you must have tried to stay up, he muses. he sheds his coat, carefully wrapping the thick fabric around your shoulders. despite his efforts to stay quiet, you startle awake.

"diluc?" you blink the sleep from your eyes, leaning into his warmth. 

"shh, i'm here now, love," he reassures you, gathering you in his arms.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃! ≀ feat. heizou

heizou holds your bag for you. yes, because he's a gentleman but also because he likes to store his things in there too. it started off with his jitte and spare headband laid neatly next to your belongings. gradually, a green pebble was added and then a law book (courtesy of yanfei) was shoved in. you're slowly running out of room for your items, but heizou flaunts your bag with such pride that you don't have the heart to tell him off.

you lean against the brick wall of the library, scanning your surroundings for a familiar auburn-haired individual. the autumn breeze stirs your hair, sending a chill through your bones as you burrowed into your scarf.

a distant shout of your name brings your attention to the library's entrance. heizou runs towards you, sporting a tawny cardigan and a matching scarf. 

"sorry i'm a little late!" he beams, hands automatically reaching for your backpack. you allow him to slip the straps off of your shoulders and onto his, leaning in to peck his icy cheek.

"let's head home," you smile, slinging an arm around his hip and sliding a hand into his pocket. "it's cold today, do you want to stop by the café for a drink?"

his laugh rings through the chilly air. "you read my mind!" 

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐇 ≀ feat. tighnari

as a forest watcher, tighnari spends most of his time out patrolling sumeru's rainforest and examining the surrounding fauna. he does get a little distracted, though. it's hard to stay focused when everything reminds him of you. zaytun peach, your favorite fruit; the purple sumeru rose that would look so lovely tucked behind your ear. tighnari pockets each of these trinkets to take back to you, carefully tucking them into his duffle bag.

"welcome home, nari," you greet him with a brief kiss as he enters your shared home.

"it's good to be back," he replies, cupping your face in his hands. "i brought you some things—they reminded me of you."

you eagerly watch as he digs through his bag, gloved hands pulling out different flowers and pebbles. his previous gifts already litter your house, but you still appreciate them nonetheless. 

you pluck a misshapen mushroom up, raising an eyebrow at him. "a mushroom, tighnari? do explain how this reminds you of me."

a sly smirk makes its way onto his face. "well, it's cute like you," he teases, pinching the skin of your cheek. "and it's a fun-gi. get it?"

you slap his hands away, pointing an accusing finger at him. "you met up with cyno today, didn't you?"

[violet-yimlat]

I hate to pull this card but

Pulls out a deck of cards from various sources and draws the tarot card, The Tower.

Oops. Wrong card.

Draws the Cards Against Humanity card reading “A hummingbird drinking nectar out of my urethra”.

I do hate to pull that card too but it wasn’t what I was looking for- ah! Here it is!

Draws a card reading “If this post can get 5000 notes within the next week I will continue writing my terrible, stupid book”.

Btw part two is in the reblogs of this post.

Preview under the cut.

Prologue

You might have heard the urban legend. It goes like this; someone is walking along a street. They’re always pretty much alone, perhaps with the exception of maybe a pet dog, a conveniently non-verbal companion, when they hear sounds of a pretty intense struggle in an alley. So they go to check it out, but nobody is ever there.

Although sometimes, there’s a little pool of blood or a few feathers.

Mostly this is dismissed as a hallucination, or birds fighting, but the amount of blood and the size of the feathers makes it hard to believe.

And the voices. Most people report hearing arguing. But wherever in the world the story takes place, nobody can understand the language spoken by the fighters. The reports are fairly consistent. The language is described as “mellifluous” and “ethereal”, and there are always multiple people speaking it. Or at least shouting in it, but it is generally agreed upon that they are angry.

But there is always another voice, speaking a different, but still incomprehensible, language. He, for in the stories it’s always a he, sounds defiant and cocky, speaking in a harsher, less musical tongue, unless, of course, you count black metal. Some especially astute listeners have picked up words and sentences used by the lone, defiant individual and the angry group, coming to the conclusion that they seem to be speaking different dialects of the same language.

And another thing; birds don’t generally use weapons. One witness said that they heard what sounded like a fencing match or duel before they turned the corner.

There are so many witnesses that they should probably make a discord server.

Now we come to the theories. We have the rational explanation as mentioned previously; birds.

We have the “Time travelling fight club” theory.

We have the “That one alien spaceship where they keep having to get out because that one alien speaking another dialect keeps picking fights and they always threaten to maroon him on Earth but they never do” theory.

There’s the “Mothman vs other Mothman” theory and the “Crazy global cult who’s leader travels from place to place to perform blood sacrifices” theory, and let’s not forget the “Magical mutant cock-fighting ring gone wrong” theory, but one theory stands above all the rest.

The most well known, and probably the most ridiculous, theory is the “Demon repeatedly getting jumped by angels” theory.

But it’s all just a conspiracy theory. An urban legend. A joke.

Until the day Amelia Butler found the devil bleeding out in an alley.

[diagonal-queen]

Omg you're backkkk<3 I hope uni's going well for you!

Maybe the Hunting Dogs with a s/o who's kind of mean/petty?

Hunting Dogs with a mean S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are the Hunting Dogs with a mean and petty S/O?

♡ cw: Swearing, u r a BULLY >:((, dw it's pretty chill though, non-graphic NSFW with Jouno, teensy bit of NSFW with Tachihara, mentions of violence, crime and torture

note: ahhh hello yes i'm back! uni's pretty great actually. i love being able to tell people i go to law school lmao, it makes me feel smarter than i am. uhh but i've been swamped and a bit busy, and i'm going back home for a week so i might not be super active over the next couple weeks, i'm so sorry my babies </3 but i'll still be lurking in case you wanna chat! as always, apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

Mf you think he cares?? He hired Jouno and Tachihara because they committed crimes, and he's more than happy to keep Teruko around. Bro doesn't give a FUCK that you're mean

If you're dating Fukuchi you clearly do give a shit about the welfare of society and world peace, so your individual quirks are just that. Quirks

He will fully let you just be a dickhead sometimes, because...like, why not?

I feel like Fukuchi is obviously often a very intimidating individual who strikes fear and commands respect from everyone else. But you? You just walk all over him

In some ways for him it's probably kind of refreshing to have someone around him who doesn't idolise him at all, or look up to him as a superior. It gets exhausting, for sure. Sometimes he just wants to be humbled and that's so okay Fukuchi, you deserve it actually /mean-spirited and condescending

Don't get me wrong it's not like you're an abusive partner! You're still obviously nice to your partner and you love him, but you definitely don't go out of your way to sugarcoat things or try to avoid any necessary confrontations

And Fukuchi genuinely really respects that about you. He's pretty similar like that, though still definitely goofier than you

I mean he won't want you sitting around with an RBF when he's at formal events and whatnot, because that really wouldn't have the best impression, but he's usually very gung ho about letting you be yourself

You're lucky he loves you man...lmao

Jouno:

He loves it. Full stop.

You two are just sadist central over here. Like he'll be torturing a suspect and you're just watching. Bored. Not a care in the world

(Jouno, I don't think you're legally allowed to invite your partner to watch you do your job- much less one like this, but...eh...)

You two are always just talking shit about people to each other, and like when you're out in public on dates you're just whispering to each other and judging people T-T

Lowkey kinda gets turned on when you guys argue. He thinks it's hot when you get heated and angry. Usually it ends in rough "passionate hugging", and the pillowtalk is when you both actually resolve the issue (dumbasses)

He might even purposefully rile you up sometimes because mf is just THAT much of a horny degenerate. You guys can call him classy and gentlemanly all you want, but we all know he's secretly deranged

Like an angry, horny goblin with a knife...someone stop him

Tbh you should probably bully him a little bit every now and then. I think he needs to be taken down a peg sometimes

Hey, he's more likely to listen to you than Tecchou, isn't he? Besides, it's nothing genuinely malicious. Just couple's banter

Oh, you guys are fucking LEGENDS at the couple's banter. Though you never do it in public, because a lot of the times the things you both tell each other as jokes can come off as really cruel jabs

Nah your senses of humour are just not family-friendly (violent and malicious)

You guys have very strange ways of showing your love and affection. But, hey, it works for you and that's what's important :)

Tecchou:

Ah yes, arguably the least meanie of all of the Hunting Dogs. Yeah uh he doesn't really like you at first

Tecchou doesn't understand being mean just for the sake of it. I mean like, for Teruko, she uses it in her career, and Jouno is sadistic and weird and also uses it in his career. You're just petty because you can be

But the more time you spend together the more he realises that you're really not that bad- you're really just more of the loveable asshole type

An acquired taste, yes, but this is Tecchou we're talking about! That's his thing!

He learns to appreciate the things about you that many others would probably consider flaws. He influences you for the better definitely...

...BUT you also kinda make him worse

He will adopt your 'deal with it bitch' attitude sometimes, but it doesn't hinder his relationships or work so it's fiiiiine

(Jouno isn't a huge fan of it though...but at the same time he kind of respects you)

Tecchou probably won't admit it but he really likes to listen to you rant and bitch about people you don't like. He just likes to listen to you be angry about trivial things, he finds it equal parts endearing and entertaining

If you're mean to someone who deserves it? Well I mean...who is he to stop you?

At the end of the day you're definitely emotionally self-sufficient, so that's one less part of you for him to fret over. All's well that ends well or some shit idk

Teruko (platonic):

You guys are literally the best of friends

She's the loud fiery kind of mean and you are the 'I will straight up meticulously ruin your life' kind of mean

You on some r/nuclearrevenge type shit and she fucking loves that for you

Like she's fully willing to plot and scheme with you and do whatever mean shit you suggest. You two are menaces and she should absolutely not be a military soldier

Teruko WILL smite your enemies. And by smite your enemies I mean she will actively do what she can to ruin the lives of people you don't like, with absolutely no remorse (pretty sure she actually commits crimes to do this)

She LIVES for your cruel one-liners and clever insults. Every time she hears one she absolutely hollers

Teruko enjoys it when you're mean to the other Hunting Dogs (except Fukuchi). They can handle a couple bitchy words so it's not a huge deal, but she's just extra amused by it

For the record you're not *mean* mean, you're just...humbling them (which let's be real they could use from time to time (Jouno, again, looking at you))

Nobody is surprised by your guys' friendship really

You're a dangerous pair. Please stop

Teruko kinda likes that you hold grudges so frequently because she'll never tire of hearing you shittalk the same exact people and events over and over again

She'll shittalk them too

Dia doesn't approve of this friendship

Tachihara:

You guys know that scene in B99 where Jake says that he can't decide if he's scared of Amy or turned on by her and then decides that he's both? Yea, that's Tachihara with you

He is a good person at heart, and outside of his mafia gangster persona he's really not that mean, and as such he does not encourage mean behaviour. But like, when you do it? Mm...

Bro is WHIPPED

Lowkey he probably gets some of his mafia persona ideas from you 💀

His mafia coworkers have no questions about how you two get along, and they generally like you. The other Hunting Dogs have a few more questions

Tachihara isn't some shy, quiet introvert, but he is generally pretty chill and a nice person. They like to playfully tease him about how different the two of you are (though if it gets too far he knows he can count on you to rip them a new one with no issue)

Dw they still like you though! Especially Teruko

He has absolutely no problems with you for being cold and blunt. It's nothing he himself can't handle, and in some ways it actually makes talking to you easier

Again, I'll stress that you're not mean to him, you're just not the most lovey-dovey person out there. But you DO put effort in and that's what Tachihara cares about, even if it isn't in a stereotypical way

If anything else, you're certainly loyal!

Tachihara loves you for all of your different eccentricities, and he's also kinda turned on by them. Win-win? Win-win.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

[paganminiskirt]

I also love how Vegito and Gogeta are not only distinctly different beings, and the former is conducted primarily by Vegeta while the latter is conducted primarily by Goku - but Vegito is clearly the more benevolent and emotionally involved of the two people, while Gogeta tends more towards frigidity and vindictiveness. Because as individuals, Vegeta’s “good side” is just as subliminal and rare to witness as Goku’s “bad side,” right; Vegeta is not a nice man by nature, and Goku doesn’t have a grudge holding bone in his body. Goku’s lack of any impulse towards vengeance is the only reason Vegeta is still breathing. This is well established.

But when Vegeta is shown to care for other people, it always manifests as him lashing out in defense of them against some greater source of cruelty - he gets pissed at Beerus for humiliating his father, he attacks Beerus for hurting Bulma, he freaks out on Cell for killing Future Trunks & knocks Present Trunks out immediately after hugging him for the first time, because he knows his son would insist on staying with him through his kamikaze attempt on Buu. Because Trunks is like that. Because Trunks is his son.

And Vegito takes that principle and drags it out to the extreme! The whole first fight with Buu is just him playing this sadistic cat and mouse game, very much in the arrogant style of Vegeta, but he also makes constant mention of the loss of Gohan, Goten, Trunks and the others - using the language of “stealing” “hunting” and “kidnapping” that brings to mind Vegeta’s own childhood trauma. He displays some aspects of Goku’s personality of course, with the playfulness and the attempts to get Buu to surrender, but Vegeta is obviously steering this ship. It’s his confidence and self-superiority that makes them lose the fight, and his belief in the necessity of a warrior’s “pride” that he explicitly cites as his reason for looking down on Buu.

Because this is what Vegeta’s attempts at “good” look like, right? Preternaturally violent and egotistical, but with a sense of protectiveness and paternity that renders his behavior heartwarming, at least enough to show you that he’s grown from the smirking, bloodthirsty garden gnome he was first introduced to us as. Underneath all the bravado, Vegito is aggrieved on behalf of someone else. He’s being kind in the only way he knows how.

Gogeta… is not that guy. He doesn’t do rescue missions, and he doesn’t feel the need to remind you of his superiority. He portrays himself as an avenger, not a defender, with lines that evoke a sense of justice and consequence like “it’s over, I’ve come for you” and “your own bad energy will be your undoing.” He snidely tells Frieza he’s coming back for him after he’s done with Broly, even though he’s visibly incapacitated and not really picking a fight. He forgoes Vegito’s up-close and relatively simple combat style in favor of these dramatic, wide-ranging attacks, more like an act of god than a natural disaster. And while Vegito allowed Buu to play with him a bit, postponing the end of the fight to sate his own lust for battle, Broly doesn’t even get to touch Gogeta once he goes super saiyan, his dedication to the pursuit reminding you of Goku’s final battle with Frieza.

…Except Goku offered Frieza clemency, and looked genuinely disappointed when he rejected it. Gogeta does no such thing. The audience gets to watch, half in awe and half in horror, as he renders this uber-aggressive Saiyan attack dog into a flailing, incoherent mess, not bothering to stop and ask him to surrender even though the updated Broly is a much more sympathetic character than Frieza or Majin Buu ever were. He enunciates the final kamehameha with such gravitas that you actually feel scared for Broly - and in the older movie, when Janemba switches back to his original form, he takes one look at Gogeta’s glowering face and scurries away in terror.

Hey, remember how Gohan fled in fear when Goku (under extreme duress) threatened him during the fight with Frieza? After he transformed into a super saiyan for the first time, guided only by mindless rage after Frieza’s pointless killing of Krillin? During a fight which only began after Vegeta, someone who caused him immeasurable harm in the past, told him to avenge the killing of both their families & the genocide of their race? All of which took place on a planet which the earthlings only had to travel to in the first place because the Saiyans killed several of their friends - a slaughter which Goku witnessed the aftermath of, at which point he told Nappa “there will be no mercy for you, you bastard” in the original manga?

Goku gets slotted into this role quite a lot, doesn’t he. He’s a protector, but also a savior, a planner, a consoler, and an avenger. He does his best to help people and he raises hell when he can’t, but he’s not vengeful by nature. Quite the opposite. See how he treats Vegeta in the Namek saga, smiling at him and bantering with him like he’s a coworker, and not the guy who crushed his bones to dust while cackling with sadistic delight.

But that’s because Vegeta only did that much damage to him. Nappa killed all the others - with Vegeta’s eager permission, yes, but that’s still enough distance to allow Goku to psychologically seperate him from those crimes. Goku’s clemency initially emerged as a byproduct of his desire to help people, but we have seen that same drive give way to brutal punitiveness when he fails, and somebody he loves dies. You can argue that it's misdirected self-hatred, anger at his own inability to be the hero those people trusted him to be - Krillin died screaming “Goku!” you might recall. The removal from other people Goku grew up enduring feeds into his sense of responsibility for the community that grew around him as an adult. He knows how important he is, and it hurts when he comes up short.

And I think that, understanding Gogeta to be primarily led by Goku but still notably impacted by Vegeta, that intense drive towards retribution the fusion displays takes on more meaning. Vegito exemplifies Vegeta’s better impulses, which are brought out in full force by Goku’s influence - Gogeta exemplifies Goku’s ugliest inner desires, with the leash he usually keeps them on loosened by Vegeta’s influence.

Because Vegeta was knocking down 100+ sentient creatures per day as soon as he could walk. He spent most of his adult life as a pampered slave, he murdered one of his oldest companions without a second thought, his introductory panel shows him munching on a severed limb, ffs. Vegeta has been through a lot, and I'm the last person to downplay that, but he hasn’t been going through it emotionally involved. He's used to this. He had to be. If he wasn't, his whole psyche would've collapsed by age twelve tops.

But Goku? Goku had to do all of that with his feelings turned on! And he chooses to remain steadfastly good and give second chances no matter how bad the situation, and that’s a healthy enough way of dealing with all this horror. But a side effect of being guided by that choice is the knowledge that he could be worse, he could be crueler. He’s a lot like Gohan, in that sense.

And Vegeta used his dying breaths to beg Goku to abandon that long-abiding impulse to show mercy. Goku might believe in forgiveness, and he might’ve let Vegeta go because of that belief, but Vegeta is a stubborn little bastard. He thinks that it’s holding him back, allowing people to slip through the cracks; to get hurt. And we’ve established that these two are both capable of misdirecting self-anger at others, though Vegeta does it much more often than Goku.

So when Goku’s mind is merged with Vegeta’s, and he’s forced to look back on his decisions to allow horrible people to live not with pride, but with regret and disgust, it manifests as Gogeta. A walking overcorrection, the sentient reconciliation of these two belief systems. Who doesn’t forgive and doesn’t forget, self-assured and bitter and terrifying, like Goku was for the first twenty seconds after he went Super Saiyan. Like he always told himself he wouldn’t be.

[sayruq]

Immediate international action must be taken to investigate the hundreds of mass and random graves in the Gaza Strip containing the bodies of thousands of Palestinian victims since the start of Israel’s genocide, ongoing since 7 October 2023. Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor field teams have closely observed the recovery of hundreds of dead bodies from these mass graves, some of which were found in the courtyards of different Gaza Strip hospitals. The significant number of graves and bodies is concerning and calls for rapid international action, which should include the immediate creation of an independent international investigation committee to look into the circumstances surrounding the creation of these graves and the deaths of the victims buried in them. This is especially important given that a large number of the victims were directly subjected to premeditated murder and arbitrary and extrajudicial executions while handcuffed. A technical committee of experts is needed to investigate the burial circumstances and determine the cause of death of the victims that have been recovered. Additionally, a system for future identification ofdeceased victims’ identities must be developed.

The Euro-Med Monitor field teams previously documented the recovery of dozens of bodies from the mass graves in Al-Shifa Medical Complex’s courtyards, belonging to handcuffed victims, otherindividuals who were wounded but not provided withmedical care, and those who were executed despite their health conditions. The victims’ decomposing bodies were found in several places, with some having been run over by Israeli bulldozers which left their bodies torn into pieces. The presence of urinary catheters or splints, whichwere found to be still attached to some of the dead patients’ bodies during the exhumation process, as well as medical files that were buried with them in Al-Shifa Medical Complex, confirm the execution of ill and injured people. Due to the extended period of time in which the bodies were left in the mass graves—as Israeli forces had impeded their recovery for the past few months—most of the bodies were in a state of decomposition when recovered. Some of the corpses had also evidently been mauled by cats and dogs. Dr Moatasem Saeed Salah, a member of the Ministry of Health’s emergency committee, told Euro-MedMonitor that after the withdrawal of Israeli forces, 30 bodies were found to have been buried in two makeshift cemeteries in Al-Shifa Medical Complexduring the Israeli siege of the medical facility. One of these cemeteries was in front of the reception and emergency department, and the second was in front of the industrial department. Salah said that only 14 of the victims had been successfully identified, with the rest being patients or injured individuals who had been receiving treatment in the hospital.

[sassycheesecake]

It’s a beautiful day during the fall season, the different pretty colors of the leaves that have been changed after summer was over, fall into the cold ground.

Two individuals, one man, with hair as dark as the midnight sky and a woman, drop-dead gorgeous, rest underneath a Japanese Maple tree. But they are not just any individuals.

The 6'3 tall man named Kiyoomi Sakusa, is secretly a yakuza member of the Jackals, one of the most feared mafia groups in Japan. The woman however, is a mere citizen but also the lover of said man. Sakusa took some time off his job to spend it with you instead, Meian thankfully granting him the request.

Collecting bounties and income, smashing a few heads and breaking some bones here and there, Sakusa is a ruthless, cold-blooded hunter when it comes to his position in the yakuza. To you however, he is the most sweet and softest puppy dog.

Sakusa is just relaxing with his head on your lap with his eyes closed, when he felt a very light weight on his head.

Opening one of his dark orbs, he sees that you placed something upon his dark curls, adjusting it as you focus highly on your task.

"What did you put on my head, my love?" He asks you, opening his other eye now as he looks at you with a breathtaking smile.

You’re quiet for a few seconds, when you gaze back into his dark eyes.

"A gift. Now you look even more handsome." You gush at him, blushing slightly at seeing his one-in-a-million-smile that just you get to see.

Sakusa chuckles lightly at your words, reaching up to find out what you placed on his dark curls only to get his tattooed hand slapped away from you.

"Ow. Why did you slap my hand away?" He pouts as he rubs his hand over the one you slapped, even though it barely hurt him.

"I just spent an eternity making you a magnificent flower crown and placed it on your unruly, complicated black curls, if you even move a single millimeter you will ruin my perfect placement." You scold him while waving a finger in his face.

"I didn’t know an eternity in your language means five minutes."

Sakusa snatches your hand and brings it to his face, pretending to bite it.

You screech in fear while quickly pulling your hand out of his and the ravenette chuckles darkly at your action.

"That’s what you get for trying to bark orders at me, you little germ." His hand finds yours again, intertwining your fingers with his big, slender ones. And you remember, that these fingers carry lots of blood on them, yet you don’t care. If anything, it makes Sakusa even hotter than he already is. And he is yours alone, as much as you are his.

"What? I can’t bark orders at you but Meian can?" You arch in eyebrow in annoyance.

"Yes." He bluntly states as he continues to look up at you.

"And why’s that?" You pry further.

"Because Meian pays my bills and he is my boss." Sakusa explains as if he’s talking to a toddler.

"What if I were your boss? Would you listen to me then?" You make a cute face, batting your eyelashes at him.

"No." Your lover disagrees.

"WHAT?!"

"I wouldn’t be able to take you seriously. And I don’t think any of the guys would. You’re too cute and you have the face of an angry wet kitten whenever you are mad at me." Sakusa explains with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"Also. I know that Miya and Joffe keep eyeing you whenever they think I am not looking. And I could smash their skulls through the nearest wall whenever I see them do that. You’re already a distraction to me. Imagine the chaos if you have more guys than me thirsting after you." Sakusa adds with a grumble, as he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Awww look at you, Mr.Big-Bad-I-Beat-Up-People-For-A-Living-Kiyoomi Sakusa. What will those poor people think of you when they find out you’re a big fat softie underneath all those tattoos and that mean scowl of yours?" You tease him, laughing at his scowl that’s directed at you.

"Don’t call me a big fat softie in front of the others. They won’t live to tell the tale." Sakusa closes his eyes again, snuggling more into your thighs.

"Not even Miya?" He can almost hear the grin in your voice.

"Especially not Miya." The man mumbles as he starts to drift off.

[soapskneebrace]

Obviously if your asks aren’t open then feel free to disregard this- (love your work btw I just- I cant- 🥰)

Do you think they keep the dog tags *ON* during sex? How do you think they’d wear them during it? Would they have you wear them?

You don’t HAVE to answer for each individual character obviously if you would rather just do it as a whole or just one that’s fine! Whatever works for you 💕

*cracks knuckles* I’ll do ‘em all. (Sorry for the long post, I’ll put it under a readmore when I get home 🙏)

Do the Tags Stay on in Bed?

Ghost wears his tags because, like the mask, they just don't ever come off. He is two people when he is with you--Ghost is the creature that can protect you, that can do the things Simon Riley would have been too weak for when it comes to your safety. But Simon is the man that could have loved you properly. Simon is the man Ghost believes could make you coffee in the morning, could rub your neck at the end of a long day.

It isn't initially why he wears his tags when he fucks you, but it is now--Ghost holds you in an iron grip, looms over you as he thrusts into you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall, and feels the tags with a dead man's name clink against his chest. They remind him that you deserve whatever is left of the man who would have been far better for you than Ghost ever could be.

Soap wears his tags fully out of pride. The SAS is his life, is a massive part of his identity, and while he knows not every mission he's sent on is wholly for the good, he holds onto his conviction to act with integrity and compassion no matter what. The SAS might not always do good, but he will, as much as he can.

He wants you to be proud of him, too--he's really doing it all for you, after all. When those tags hang between you as your legs are wrapped around his waist, as they come to rest on your chest when he leans down to kiss you, he wants you to know that when he wears them he's thinking of you.

Gaz has no preference, but more often than not they stay on because he forgets to take them off. Usually, it's because the moment you're both free with enough time to actually have sex, he isn't going to bother with silly things like getting completely undressed--he wants you, now.

So, they've whacked you in the face a couple times as the two of you have gone at it. It's too funny to get mad at, and Gaz always uses it as an excuse to "make it up to you." Sometimes he'll take them off, too, and put them around your neck instead. "Keep 'em safe for me, eh?" he says with a grin.

Price takes his tags off. Over 20 years of service have left him wanting something that exists apart from violence and bloodshed, and every moment he spends with you is that something. He doesn't want to be the Captain with you, not unless he has to be--putting his tags aside gives him permission to just be John with you.

Besides, they'd get in the way. John does his very, very best to please you, to satisfy you beyond any expectation you may have of him, and sometimes that leaves you needing to bite down on his neck to keep from screaming. You’d probably not prefer to break a tooth on the tags’ chain.

Alejandro also takes his tags off, although it’s less about keeping work and pleasure separate and more about the annoyance they can be. When he is with you, Alejo is focused wholly on you, and does not appreciate distractions of any sort. He doesn’t want to have to fling his tags around to get them out of the way, or let them hang to be caught on an errant foot or wrist.

He does, however, love to see you wear them. It’s totally a possessive thing, but in the best way—Alejo worships the ground you walk on, and seeing his name around your neck inspires the same awe usually reserved for the divine. He thinks you could have anyone you wanted, and is humbled daily that you continue to choose him.

Rudy doesn’t care either way if the tags are on or off, and if the topic ever comes up he leaves that up to you. It’s an attitude that is very in-character—Rudy’s satisfaction comes from ensuring that you are satisfied, no matter what. Rudy’s love language, hands down, is acts of service.

Similarly to Alejo, however, he does enjoy seeing you wear his tags. “They belong to you anyway, mi vida,” he’ll tell you, lining your neck with gentle kisses. “All of me does.” (He has been known, however, to forget where he puts them if they do come off. So it’s probably better if they stay on.)

Bonus: Valeria gave hers to you a long time ago. She asks very frequently to see them, to make sure you keep them with you at all times. She promised herself she would never, ever carry their weight again, but she also can’t quite bear to throw them away, so now they stay with the only person in the world that she trusts.

If you wear them to bed, it will inspire a frenzy in her that will leave you limping the next morning. Those tags are a past version of her, a version she emerged from like a snake shedding its skin. While she is never sure how to feel about that previous self, seeing you take care its vestiges satisfies an ache in Valeria that she will never acknowledge.

Bonus: Graves has mixed feelings about his tags overall, being that he is technically not required to wear them anymore. They don’t mean the same thing to him now that they used to. That doesn’t mean they aren’t always on him, of course—he keeps them tucked into his boots. So you never see them.

If you were to ever find them, bring them into the bedroom? It could go one of two ways. On the one hand, you could end up benefitting short-term from the frustrated agitation those tags inspire, with Graves using your body to relieve an old, invisible hurt you never knew about. He will withdraw from you afterwords, though, too caught up in himself to really connect with. On the other, he could just withdraw immediately, recede from you, and the tension of that encounter will linger for days. It’s best not to involve his tags at all.