#《some people put the evil eye on me ;; ask》

[teeldaa]

I wanted to rant a little about Wyll , Mizora and Raphael,their prewrite versions and my issue with how Larian wrote devils and cambions in general and some theories :p This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, I got sick and completely forgot about it ...I think i got carried away with my Raphael theories, because of that i wasn't even sure if I wanted to post this or not(warning:a lot of yapping) And sorry in advance for my bad English :p

Wyll and Mizora first thing that bothers me is i see a lot of people saying Larian rewrote Wyll because EA players didn't like him, but that's not true?!I was looking through Larian's interviews, they either said they’ve redone Wyll because it wasn't working for them, they lost a little bit of narrative room for telling all these stories that he had(x) or they weren’t telling his story as well as they could have done(x)so it was Larian's decision and not players feedback. Pre rewrite Wyll: He wasn't related to Ulder Ravengard, he was a descendant of Grand Duke Eltan,the founder and leader of the Flaming Fist.these are the lines that were datamined during ea(source)

Although Duke Eltan founded the flaming fists, his family had to sell their interest to pay off debt... in the release version if Wyll doesn't sign the contract with Mizora and Florrick is still in jail Cordula Eltan confronts him about Ulder(might be an Easter egg)

after getting caught for thieving, Wyll was sent to flaming fists by his father.he pointed out that he wasn't a good fighter and didn't fit in well there and then one day Spike and his fellow goblins attacked the village

this is the part that a lot of people miss,you could only get these lines if you modded the ea to play as origin Wyll(x) when confronting Fezzerk the narrator said these

Your belly crash into memory, Spike was the one who slashed out your eye this one held your head while he did it

The bile rises in your throat, you hate this cockroach, you hate his chief ,You hate…yourself you'd been selfish,lazy,lustful. you'd all but invited goblins to a slaughter

and If you made Wyll torture the prisoner, Spike would say"The Blade always knew how to throw a party!" So I guess Goblins used throwing a party as an excuse to trick Wyll into letting them in!

I think what they were going for with Wyll was... A nobleman who had to meet high expectations put on him by his status and his dad, went through a very traumatic experience(humiliated, injured, witnessed the slaughter of an entire village)and had no way of fighting back! he was in need of rescue and had no one to help him, so he took Mizora's deal and became the blade of frontiers to prevent that from happening to other people?!

I often see it being said EA Wyll was a "fake hero" or a "glory hound" or … which are not true, He was the only companion who prioritized saving the tiefling refugees over finding a cure, was ready to die for them and would have left the party if you sided with Minthara. He wasn't "evil" he just had more flaws... Wyll decided to break his pact after Mizora asked him to pay "a price he wasn't willing to pay", they were arguing then got kidnapped by mind flayers. these lines are from modded Wyll origin(x) said by the narrator:

one moment you'd been bartering with Mizora for freedom. the next whisked away by tentacle monsters

what was it Mizora had said?oh yes- 'over your rotting corpse'

Spike found Mizora's pod and put a collar around her neck that neutralized all her powers, She communicated with Wyll through his eye and promised to free him if he saved her. Before the party got to the goblin camp, drow came and took Mizora to Moonrise tower and apparently they had"big plans"for her I think this version of Mizora was working for her father based on these dialogues(x)

Mizora: Get .Me .Out of here Wyll: and if i don't? Mizora: then my father will. and your eternal soul will be his.

maybe that "big plans"had to do something with her dad?! The lines that implied she and Wyll might had been romantically involved at some point were these:

Wyll: Don't tell me - someone came to you, an object of desire. made you better. More than better Wyll: Same happened to me. Tav: Someone, yes. who was it you saw? Wyll: An old lover. tempting as a trail of rose petals, and just as fragrant.

and for anyone wondering what does she smell like...

Tav: Tell me more about this old flame of yours. Wyll: A giver and taker. without her, id hardly be who i am, for both better and worse

I kinda get why they decided to change their dynamic, but they made it so much worse... what Wyll and Mizora had was a toxic codependent relationship with a power imbalance but the game was taking it more seriously...in his act1 romance scene You could hug him and make him feel safe. the only datamined Wyll/Mizora interaction we had was this! and this version Mizora is way better! She didn't treat Wyll like a "dog" or use weird degrading pet names. i wish they kept her straightforward and no-nonsense attitude, she had so much personality, probably more content and plot relevancy too She was already lawful evil and the game made that very clear, making Mizora treat Wyll in a super dehumanizing way was just unnecessary in my opinion and it didn't do neither of them any favors. the release version Mizora supposed to be a cambion but she's not really written like one. the most important part of cambions lore is that they are outcasts! They grow up very lonely because they are never accepted by either society, Even in the bg3 artbook it is mentioned that they have to be resourceful to survive "as the forsaken of two races"

They're not always evil, they can be neutral or even rarely good(depending on their mother's alignment). I feel like they were doing a way better job with datamined version of Mizora, You could actually see her half human side more. Tying Wyll to Karlach's story was a bad idea… Zariel's characterization feels kinda off(Karlach called her the biggest liar in all the realms??)and Mizora doesn't exactly seem like the type of person who works for her...Zariel is a warmonger obsessed with stopping the Blood War because if the demons win they will conquer the Material Plane and start destroying things, she's more of a“the ends justify the means” type of evil. Zariel is not into politics of hell, i feel like Wyll should have been forced to fight in the blood war just like Karlach because that's the only thing Zariel cares about. and...if Zariel doesn't own Karlach's soul then why does she want her dead?!Shouldn't Mizora order Wyll to capture her alive?so she can take her back to Avernus? i find it kinda odd there's not an option to ask Mizora to remove your tadpole. I think she should be able to that, In that datamined interaction she had this dialogue:

That's an illithid tadpole in your brain, let it fester for long and you'll be birthing a squid from your head hole. You want that thing out? Brush the dust out of your eye and get over here.

And bg3 has a prequel comic called "Mindbreaker"and a devil(an erinyes who served Bel) did remove an absolute tadpole...

Wyll's transformation into a devil confuses me! The dialogues makes it look much more significant than it actually is...it's just horns, i wonder if Larian was originally going for a more drastic change, bg3 concept art Devils have very distinct features... and btw Mizora turning Wyll into a devil should have cure him, ceremorphosis doesn't affect fiends...

I feel like if they didn't tie Wyll's story to Karlach and didn't change his father, they could have kept most of Wyll's previous content like his ea romance scene which was great And it could still work for the current Wyll. Was all that changes really necessary? And they didn't even give Wyll a unique starting outfit when his Keyart Armor was already in the game files and it looks perfect on him.

Mizora's father Just for fun, there was this Harbs Narbs theory(x) that Mizora's father was Levistus(Archdevil of Stygia) Levistus is the Infernal patron of vengeance and betrayal,His followers are called bladereavers.he is an honorable duelist and his favored weapon is a rapier in that video he said that blade of frontiers tag gave Wyll an automatic rapier proficiency and armor of agathys(Levistus tieflings have that spell) ...and the spell" Tomb of Levistus" was datamined Levistus is described as a tall humanoid male with dark hair, a neat goatee and an extremely pale complexion but would be able pass for a human if not for his pointed teeth and coal-black eyes that practically radiated darkness. Mizora concept art also happen to have "extremely pale complexion" "coal-black eyes"and looks more human compared to other devil and cambion designs...

(I really like this design, specially those small blades that are hanging from her dress. I think the outfit she's wearing now in the game was supposed to be for her human disguise and this was for her devil form) I couldn't find anything else about Wyll, But i think he suffered the most from the upper city getting cut. I am very curious about his EA version's father and his role in the main plot...He probably was the main focus of Wyll's quest in act 3(because Mizora was supposed to end Wyll's contract if he freed her from Moonrise) I imagine this version of Mizora could also become a camp follower, She was tortured badly by goblins so it makes sense that she would help us defeat The Absolute...

Probably not a hot take, but I don't think they should have completely rewritten his entire character that late in development(Just to be clear, I like release Wyll and i think Theo Solomon did an incredible job voicing him.I just wish the narrative treated him better) I completely understand why someone would prefer the current version he's a sweet, loyal and brave folk hero but in my opinion he would have been more popular and resonated with more people if they kept his old self. EA Wyll was more charismatic, chaotic and extroverted, He had A LOT of struggles and flaws but he was trying his best to overcome them and that made him more relatable. The difference between EA Wyll and release Wyll to me is like the difference between Batman and Superman, Batman has a way bigger fandom and more films, games, cartoons and...even though Superman is this uncorruptible and aspirational symbol of hope with so many cool super powers. Another thing I like more was how they were doing the warlock/patron dynamic. The relationship was much more personal and complicated and original version of Mizora was superior in every way (I could be wrong, but I always assumed from the way Wyll talked about the powers Mizora was giving him that the whole thing was some kind of allegory for addiction) that's all i had to say about Wyll and Mizora...

Raphael first the stuff they cut

the most important thing that got cut was his deal that he could solve your tadpole issue in exchange of your soul

in this interview Senior Writer Adam Smith said this:

In one situation, for instance, a devil will approach players with a bargain for their soul. That might seem like an offer to immediately reject, but that deal might also help players understand and control the change happening to their character as the result of a magical parasitic infection.

and in this one Swen Vincke said he is a potential solution for the tadpole problem:

even in the first encounter he says "Oh, A mere trifle. How dear is one's soul, Really?" when you ask him what he wants. ...so i guess that means you could have had Raphael as your patron?!

it was datamined that he wanted the artefact (x) not the crown

the person that supposed to be inside the artefact, helping you and not letting you turn was Orpheus, so Raphael wanted him...for some reason!

there is also this List of All Cut Content!apparently Raphael supposed to be a Merchant and soul coins were there for trading with him...

Raphael the Merchant - Originally Raphael was meant to be a fully viable option to remove your tadpole, in fact the "Soul Coin" items that you collect in game where originally meant to be a powerful alternative currency accepted only by Raphael in exchange for possibly retrieving your soul as well as a long list of incredibly powerful artifacts from the House of Hope that would be sold by Raphael himself.

originally Karlach didn't have her Infernal Engine(x)so that's probably true!

in early access If you didn't give Gale magical any artifact, he would make a deal with Raphael(x) Gale would inform you that he no longer needed anything from you, he didn't exactly tell you why but if you passed the wisdom check the narrator would said this :

You flutter through his mind like a bat through the night and you see… fire. You hear laughter. You smell brimstone. mocking words drift back to you.'This is the House of Hope.'

Origin Karlach could have made another deal with Raphael! she had unique datamined dialogues with him and Korilla

there's 4 unused Raphael models(with different hair style)in the game i see people calling them earlier iterations but they are not, they were datamined all together later in the early access along with companions dream lovers in one room(it was called AA room) They could be for some sort of cut content/quest lines?!

Concept art Raphael doesn't have hair so idk maybe these were supposed to be his different human disguises?! Even in this early live stream he had the same devil model with black hair while his human disguise looked like Lord Farquaad...

this was also on that list of cut content

Mol and Raphael - Isn't it odd how Mol will just escape from Raphael on her own and say it was "easy?" Well it turns out that's because they cut whatever the final leg of that quest was meant to be, instead they allow Mol to escape on her own which more or less skips to the end and around the cut content.

there's one Yurgir line!(you can hear his datamined voice lines here)

now, Leave me. I must prepare for my return to hell, Triumphant.

(thanks @doomsbutt for looking that up) apparently it was supposed to trigger as a fallback for when Raphael can't appear! The tag checked for that dialogue says "Sets if the Last Justiciar contract was completed, but Raphael didn't show up" Currently this is not an option in the game, but we could have just tell Yurgir he can be freed by killing the rats!so maybe there was supposed to be an option that got cut ?!

Astarion and Kith'rak Voss asking Raphael for help were added after rewrite

in early access the game locked you in a cutscene when Raphael visited the camp, you couldn't switch character, pickpocket him or see his health bar!also in ea Korilla wasn't spying on the party

in conclusion Astarion quest, Raphael's dialogues with Karlach and Dark Urge + everything in act3 should be new. Raphael probably originaly had A MUCH BIGGER role, He was mentioned in all the larian's earlier interviews and was on all of the promotional stuff... I think they changed him really late in development as well *take with a grain of salt*larian beta tested the game in july 2022 I heard about that version twice, What they both mentioned that had changed was the House of Hope. one of them said even Hope and Haarlep didn't exist in that version*again take with a huge grain of salt, I heard from someone who had heard it from a beta tester in both cases*

the release version (@tellmeallaboutit sorry it took so long...I changed my mind several times while writing this, then forgot about it for a while...) I know it's because of that late rewrite but in my opinion Raphael's writing in Act 3 is not great!(like everything else in act3) He has a really good set up but it just goes nowhere,his deal just sucks...after Yurgir quest i was excepting the contract to be a song or poem, option to negotiate the terms, and consequences...but nope!nothing! And then you can just go and steal your contract?!(pretty sure that's not a thing, since contracts are magic that bonds your soul to a devil not a actual piece of paper)and even if you break the contract, he won't kill/punish you for some reason. First i wanna rant a little about Hope…i think after they decided to cut all of Raphael's original content, they wanted to give the player a reason to kill him so they made her! she is a prisoner who is being tortured to accept Raphael's deal and...that's not how Infernal Contract works, terms become binding when both parties willingly sign the contract, the contract is void if the devil uses force or even threats. this is from Fiendish Codex II :

The same goes for buying slaves...there's a reason why devils go out of their way to corrupt mortals and offer services, why bother making contract if they could just buy people?! that aside my biggest gripe with Hope is she's not representing hope as a concept , she's very brave and strong-willed but kinda pessimistic. literally the first thing she say to you is"you came. such a shame. curiosity killed all the cats it won't be so kind to you"like??!Isn't that the opposite of inspiring hope? i was re watching her cutscenes and majority of her dialogues are quite cynical...i feel like whoever wrote her and HOH quest straight up confused hope with persistence, strong will and determination! IMO Isobel is a MUCH better character to represent the concept! for anyone who says "Why can't Wyll and Karlach stay in the House of Hope"they cant! Hell is very lawful hierarchical place. You can't just stay there, other more powerful devil will absolutely attack and take over HOH right away after Raphael's death. Another thing that really bothered me about Hope's situation is that it doesn't really line up with what Raphael was saying earlier... To make it easier to explain what I mean, i tried to analyze pre-rewrite stuff separately first: *Disclaimer:I'm not talking about current canon of the game This is mostly just my thoughts and speculations as to what his character and story might have been before the rewrite, i know I'm most likely totally wrong* Destroying people's hope was not exactly Raphael's goal, He even gets upset if you agree to take his deal in the first encounter"Oh. That's disappointing.I prefer it when my clients put up a fight…" and"i really am at my magnanimous best when people make an effort" That's why IMO it just doesn't make any sense for him to torture and imprison a person who didn't take his deal right away, Since he explicitly wanted his clients to have hope and go explore all the options they have, because for some reason he was sure they can't find anything and going to fail every single attempt"only to realize victory was never an option" then they themselves come to him and ask/beg him for help and he gets to be their"savior" The thing I find interesting about pre rewrite Raphael that is completely gone in act 3 is his savior complex and how he tried to portray himself as someone who helps people in need. "House of Hope" is a VERY common name for nonprofit organizations that provide treatment, shelter, financial assistance and...(if you google it and pass through bg3 stuff you can find many of them)I don't think the name's a coincidence because of this line"This is the House of Hope, Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed lavishly"he was supposed to be an option to heal your party from the parasite. He also talking about having"boundless compassion" and "infinite mercy" and his the gathering card is called "Fiendish Savior"These are not things I associate with the devils or the hells. He is named after an archangel. Raphael is known in various religions as an angel who does acts of healing. The name Raphael means "It is God who heals", "God Heals", "God, Please Heal" in Christianity "he is the patron saint of travelers, young people, happy meetings, nurses, physicians, sick people and medical workers. He can cure blindness, eye afflictions, nightmares and..." in Islam "he is a beautiful angel who is a master of music, he sings praises to God in a thousand different languages, the breath of which is used to inject life into hosts of angels who add to the songs themselves."

In the final release the name Raphael seems very random for a cambion but if we look at his cut content it makes a lot of sense,He was supposed to be the party's patron who would cure their "eye afflictions" This could be remnants of Mol's original quest, but notice how even her blind eye healed after she took on Raphael's deal. He could also fix Gale's orb and Karlach's "condition", Maybe that's why he was named after the archangel of healing. another thing I've noticed is in his boss fight when you try to hit him with radiant damage he says this:

I don't think a cambion should be able to that, because "Radiant damage doesn't do anything special to demons/devils but they aren't particularly resistant to it either" No creature is immune but aasimar and celestial do have resistance to radiant damage. and there's also angel/devil aesthetic in the HOH decor...

Both of these are definitely Raphael, The devil one is sticking his tongue out, There's a lot of tongue imagery in Raphael's clothing concept art as well. The angel one(?)has some kind of plants around his head same as that one Ascended Fiend design on the HOH floor(The actual design has antlers instead of those)

Speaking of Ascended Fiend, I find it really hard to believe that they made a uniquely detailed model just for a phase of his boss fight that could be missed. There is no cutscene or explanation why he has a third form(i know about that cut"Mephistopheles, hear your son!..."line but I don't think it's canon anymore, and it's definitely not the original reason why this form exists, The design is already on the HOH floor and on his clothing concept art so it was supposed to be something that he already had) It doesn't look like a devil to me...It is designed in a way to draw all your attention to its head...it has 3 animal skulls smashed together(?)and Stag Antlers. Correct me if i'm wrong but i don't think that skull is for a real animal right?! And those stag/deer antlers are the most in you face part of this design, They are also seen in one of Raphael's concept art design and even in Korrilla's outfit on her chest.

This made me wonder what exactly that Ascended Fiend design was even supposed to be(I saw some say it's a pit fiend But it does not look like a pit fiend at all, pit fiend are heavy, have big muscles and gargoylish appearance)And what's with the antlers? Okay, here's my delulu theory: I think the Ascended Fiend's design and Raphael as a character were both inspired by a Wendigo.

"Wendigos are described as having long limbs, long, sharp claws, and teeth, and their eyes are said to be sunken in and glowing red. They are also said to have a long tongue that they use to lick their victim's flesh and can shapeshift into other animal and human forms." "The Wendigo was gaunt to the point of emaciation, its desiccated skin pulled tightly over its bones. With its bones pushing out against its skin, and its eyes pushed back deep into their sockets, the wendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently disinterred from the grave.What lips it had were tattered and bloody … Unclean and suffering from suppuration of the flesh, the Wendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition, of death and corruption" "The wendigo craves human flesh and is constantly starving for it. The wendigo is known to have its preferences: the sweet fat of children, the soft skin of women, the course muscles of men (especially warriors and hunters) Wendigos are embodiment of gluttony, greed, and excess; never satisfied after killing and consuming one person, they are constantly searching for new victims."They also stalk their preys for a long time and prefer to terrify them before moving in for the kill. the description kinda fits the design right? Notice how Raphael's eyes are sunken into their sockets in his human form. this also explains why there is so many tongue symbolism in his house and concept art...and looking back at Raphael's dialogues again, there's a lot of Food-related proverbs/idioms/phrases (they definitely toned it down in Act 3), some even could possibly indicate that he might have been based on a wendigo"through a nice juicy brain""My last contract here fed me for decades" He also called greed his"favorite virtue" and Shadowheart said this about him"there were no right answer with that devil. He was toying with his food-us""A devil sought us out, Teased us with his help…But he also stared as if we were the banquet, Rather the one on the table."(this is a cut line from ea)

There's this line in act2"I have this picture in my head of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams..." In Cree mythology, wendigo can possesses people through their dreams and cause its victims a feeling of insatiable hunger, the desire to eat other humans, and the propensity to commit murder. And these were "urges" from early access:

Nausea twists your stomach, But it's hunger not revulsion, Something inside you clammers for blood, For death and only the the tear of flesh will do.

Amid this flurry of questions you feel something else deep inside you, A hunger, A lust for blood.

Durge is the last addition to the origin characters so ea urges should have been for something else so...idk. i looked up to see if wendigos are a thing in 5e but I could not find a solid answer...(put pin on this, I'll have more to say about Raphael and dreams) Another big thing I feel was really missing and should have been explained in act 3 is Why was Raphael so sure that his clients wouldn’t find anything and always come back to him to matter what...first two act was setting up Raphael as someone who likes to play games that he is sure his clients cant win but there was no such game in act3. I believe the current narrative wants me to think it's all an act or it's just him being overconfident but that doesn't make much sense, He acts as if he has never failed before and has the upper hand and lots of advantages in these situations, He shows his true form right away and never hides the fact that he's evil and even denies you If you accept his offer in the first encounter. To me this is someone who is looking for a challenge. You can see this in the way he dealt with Mol and Yurgir(their act2 voice lines were dataminded in patch 8 of EA, So their deals with Raphael were written before that late rewrite...) In act2 Raphael trapped Yurgir in the Gauntlet of Shar by offering help to Lyrthindor...so Raphael did put Yurgir in a situation where he had no other choice but to accept his deal. I'm having a bit of a issue with this quest... i know they tied Astarion to this quest after the rewrite(this is why there is no deal when Astarion is not in your party) and It was supposed to be an option to free Yurgir(because of that unused line i mentioned earlier, I wonder if we were going to see free Yurgir again in Avernus cut content...)So they have changed this quest at least a little. I feel like Yurgir's soul was not Raphael's number 1 priority, He made a deal with Yurgir. There was always a loophole in that deal, He could have sent someone else to kill Yurgir all this time but he didn't. it seems to me that he's just messing with him? And there's this line "My last contract here fed me for decades"as if he keeps getting profit out of that contract?!i don't think he's getting those dark justiciars souls?So what or who was he feeding on all this time? This should have been the quest that basically established what type of person Raphael is and how he makes deal, But the difference between this deal and what he offered the player is so big that it doesn't seem like they were made by the same person. In Yurgir's case the contract was a song, there was a loophole in it, and Raphael didn't play fair, The "perfumed trickster" in act 3 suddenly is an honest and fair devil who doesn't backstab his clients?

Yurgir himself was soften up a little too much in act3, I liked that he was this evil, ruthless devil who could easily kill you and enjoy it, But had a sense of honor. he was reduced to "uwu little rabbit" in act 3 As if we did not see his bed and this is not the same person who said "I made him watch as i ate his concubines and young, Then i fashioned a codpiece from his skull.""Owe you? Every breath you take from this moment now on is my reward to you. Few walk away from me intact."idk it's just a bit inconsistent for me... And there's Mol! She was presented with a deal from Raphael and then suddenly She got kidnapped after right after that...I don't think it was ever confirmed that Raphael was involved in her kidnapping but "It's only a matter of time before the apple is plucked."and"she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left"kinda makes me think he may have known this was going to happen?!He had no way of knowing this was going to happen and I don't think it's even possible for him to be responsible for her kidnapping, But he spoke as if he knew... And then in act 3 you can just find Mol and give her back her contract and that's it... which was pretty anticlimactic. It just feels unfinished and rushed, Probably because they cut off Raphael's content and Mol's original story was connected to that said content?! Maybe I'm just being nitpicky but i feel like Mol should have known Raphael's a devil?! He offered her a deal and smelled like sulfur?Like what kind of deal did he offer her that didn't require revealing his identity? (*take with a grain of salt* It wasn't just Mol, If what i heard from that version that they play tested is true, There were supposed to be more children npcs in HOH and i have a feeling the devil with the silver tongue in Wyll's story who took the farmer's daughter away is also Raphael. This could be a cut storyline?maybe?) There are also these lines that do not make much sense to me"You're the best thing for business since the Second Sundering. Countless sorry souls came running to my door after your work in the grove." "To repay you for the souls sent my way, I offer a taste of the truth."Which souls is he talking about here?Why would "Countless sorry souls"go to Raphael specifically after the grove incident?

after rewrite Those were all the pre-rewrite stuff... Kith'rak Voss scene with Raphael must be new, He was a very different character and was involved on that big "The Creche vs The Cult of the Absolute" fight in Rosymorn Monastery that got cut. Raphael originally wanted the artefact not the the The Crown of Karsus so him want to be ruler of nine hell is probably new?! which is ridiculous If you know anything about hell hierarchy and power scaling(the reason is to enforce law and order(?) as if hell isn't already like that and Asmodeus isn't a primal embodiment of lawful evil) Maybe that's just me but Raphael's writing in general feels very different in act 3, My guess is that they gave him to another writer after rewrite, he seems to have been written by a more skilled and talented writer before that...like if you compare the first meeting with him to his monologue before fighting him, the difference in quality is very much noticeable. Raphael himself went from being very smart, snarky and manipulative to straightforward, blunt and comically unselfaware. I guess the current narrative wants me to just ignore all the earlier stuff?! And i have other nitpicky issues, "Down comes the claw" is supposed to be a reference to Raphael's lullaby in Act 1 but that doesn't make sense,This was what happened between the cat and the mouse, and Raphael was supposed to be the fox watching them. if they player was the mouse, who is this cat that they were brightly smiling at? And why "claws coming down" was a form of "love"? My guess is that the original meaning of that rhyme is something that has been cut. In my opinion, the House Of Hope quest itself was pretty underwhelming with lot of questionable writing decisions and basically was a weaker and less interesting version of hag's lair in act 1. I feel like the writer was much more interested in shocking people or getting a reaction than writing a good story. The last thing that bothers me in act 3, Raphael suddenly out of nowhere became really obsessed with law and order...I mean that's what he says but he never really does anything to show that he cares about those things? His house is a chaotic mess and Neither Hope nor those "Eternal Debtors" should be there. Devils can take someone and torture them without owing their soul ONLY IF those people to come to hell themselves(which wasn't the case with Hope) and I couldn't find anything about those "Debtors" in dnd lore. What is even the purpose of their existence beside shock value? Those who sell their souls to a devil become divine energy for the hells, Lemures or soul coins after they die, All of which are relatively worse outcomes and i think he should have served an archdevil in Avernus(but he doesn't)...All that talk about hell's laws but he lowkey not following any of them... IDK maybe he wasn't originally meant to be lawful evil? In act2 he said this about Mol "She cheated, of course, but that's half her charm"i don't understand how can you find cheating charming if you love law and order so much? and he also said this"After all, if there is one rule I hold dear, it's that one must always give the devil his due." Doesn't this contradict what he's saying in act3? He basically said he doesn't care about any rule beside "giving the devil his due" here... And there's Raphael's magic the gathering card "Fiendish Savior"

MTG cards have 5 colors, each of them has their own meaning and mechanic(you can read about them x,x) Raphael's card is half black half red. Black is color of lack of ethical restraint, Power at any cost , self-interest and ... which still kinda fits his character. Red is "impulsive and emotional. The color of passion, frivolity, and chaos"."Red values freedom above all else. It wants to do what it wants when it wants, and to whom it wants, and nobody can tell it otherwise.""Red believes that life is an adventure and that it would be much more fun if everyone stopped caring about rules, laws, and personal appearances and just spent their time indulging their desires through experience." I think this was made before that late rewrite, because it doesn't really fit him any more.(Wyll card is also red and that's definitely for his EA version) Red doesn't always mean chaotic alignment but character with half red half black card are very often chaotic evil. Unlike devils, Cambions can be other alignments beside lawful evil so maybe they were doing something different?!or maybe he wasn't even a cambion?

(Just a warning, I'm about to over analyze a lot of details in bg3 artbook, early access and prequel comic to guess what they might have planned for Raphael before the rewrite, if that's something you don't really care about you should stop reading...A lot of this is just my theories and speculation about the og storyline) Raphael's design I think just like Wyll and Gale, they didn't give Raphael his actual design and he stuck with his ea placeholder model. His final design is really bland and it looks nothing like his concept art. (i can't post more photo because tumblr's limit but you can see them here) I prefer all of them to what's in the final game right now, all of these designs are very bold, detailed and fancy, which I think fits Raphael's over the top personality better. They all have a black and red color scheme with lots of gold jewelry. There's a lot of nature symbolism(vines,roses, thorns and...), Eyes, Tongues and dragons in there as well. I also really like how Raphael's devil form has unique features and isn't just basic tiefling with wings like the release version. I don't know what this is but apparently it was important enough that has its own section on his page...

Another thing I noticed, Gortash's final outfit is very similar to some of Raphael concept art. Specially that early sketchy design (even that dragon tattoo was originally meant for Raphael) similar symbolism: Eyes, Tongues, skulls and dragons, None of these can be found in other Gortash concepts So idk maybe this is just an unused earlier design for Raphael? (Is it just me or the dragon on Gortash's collar looks a lot like Tiamat? it's literally a dragon with several heads. I don't see how she could be related to either to Gortash or Raphael so i didn't look more into it)

Another thing all of these designs have in common is that they are clearly inspired by Jareth the Goblin King and different customs he wore in 1986 Labyrinth. It reminded me of this tweet from back in ea where one of the dev even compared Raphael to Jareth.

that kinda explains why there were children npcs in HOH in that beta version of the game... I was thinking about this comparison then something suddenly clicked for me, Jareth was a manifestation of Sarah's desires(at the beginning movie in her room you can see a picture of David Bowie with her mother). He was offering Sarah her dreams and was trying to get her to submit to a fantasy...And that's EXACTLY what the original dream visitor from early access was...Which is interesting because when i was reading about Wendigo, That also reminded me a lot of EA dreams and urges(They can shapeshift into different human forms and posses people through their dreams and...) I knew Raphael's original role was to be a solution to our tadpole problem in exchange of our soul and be a Merchant. So I thought he would be an ally against the Absolute, but probably had his own evil agenda and dealing with him had its own consequences(kinda like an evil equivalent of Malady from DOS2)...It never actually occurred to me that the reason he wanted Orpheus and our souls was because he was with the cult...This sent me down a rabbit hole. If you haven't played early access you can watch all the dream sequences here. just by these alone it's obvious that the dream person isn't the tadpole specially in the last dream Where their mask fell off... And I think the Absolute and the Dream Visitor were supposed to be the same person...There was this conversation with Lae'zel:

Tav: Those dreams linger in my memory. Do you think that strange figure will come back? Lae'zel: It is a certainty. I had assumed our parasites served a ghaik Elder. But i believe they serve a greater master still. Tav: The Absolute is this 'master'. I'm sure of it. Lae'zel: Perhaps. 'Absolute' may be a mere pseudonym behind which this master hides. Whatever this voice, Whoever this master, It dominates dreams and unites minds.

Minthara also had this line in EA"The Absolute has spoken to you already, in whispers and dreams, but at Moonrise you will be in her presence." and Absolute's pronounce changed depend on the person you're talking to. EA dream visitor was referred to by two names in the game files: Daisy and Desire. This was datamined about multiplayer(x)

Daisy: can have up to four "Daisy" character in game , one for each avatar, The "default" Daisy is the host. Desire : only one "Desire" in the game.based on the Daisy made by the host.

Some NPCs in game files also were referred to as desire, So they were probably Daisy in disguise. for example one of them was Counsellor Florrick.

I recently watch this(x)Remember i mentioned those 4 unused Raphael models that were in the same room with origin character's dream visitors. Now i know what they are, They aren't for cut content 4 naked models are customizable dream visitors for each 4 avatars and there are 4 Raphael for each of them because Now there are 4 extra Emperor with those customizable Dream guardians in there instead ...(They aren't in the separate room like EA and Origin don't have their own Daisy now so they aren't there)

Looking back at EA footage now, I think the original visit to HOH probably was a dream sequence...unlike the release version Raphael would only come to camp at night after a long rest and when the scene ended the whole party was knocked down (Basically you would wake up from it)

I think that's why he said a "lullaby" would suit the occasion? And if you talked to Shadowheart after the first dream, There was an actual option to tell her that our dream visitor could be "that devil, Raphael"

I didn't even remember this because i usually didn't use the tadpole powers(They were to have severe consequences) and i think you only get this if you met Raphael before you get the first dream...Does anyone know what Shadowheart would say if you pick this option?

There's also this Raphael's cut line:

I have a thousand mistresses, Karlach. Fear and pleasure blend quite well.

(I think it could be a reference to “Just fear me, love me, do as I say…”?! ) "thousand mistresses" is something that is not really physically possible BUT if was the dream visitor, this explains who these people could be. I think every person that was tadpoled had their own Daisy.

The Cult of the Absolute itself has changed quite a bit after rewrite, There was this theme of "Power at a Cost"that is gone. The Absolute was going to offer you "powers" but indulging in those corrupting powers would send you down a dark path and had long-term consequences. "Cultist of the Absolute"MTG card had this in the description "you embrace power at any cost, and if it consumes you, so be it." Now the Emperor is the one who insists that you should use this powers, but consuming tadpoles has no real impact, it just a for a powerup system.

I was re-reading bg3 prequel comic Mindbreaker, I noticed something really interesting. At the end of the first chapter a group of true souls teleported to a library to perform a ritual. Then suddenly they started speaking Infernal while they were standing on something that looks a lot like the marks on Astarion's back...

And then a tadpoled priest of Kelemvor "father Alby" killed the true soul lady that was standing in the middle, using a dagger that looked like Rhapsody(it wasn't a 1 to 1 copy but the design were pretty similar) and after that a portal opened and he was like"now it is revealed to us, my fellow true souls…the glory of the Absolute has no limits!" Okay so who's this ritual is for? (It's definitely not for neither The Dead Three, their chosen nor The Netherbrain), And why is this "ritual" look so similar to devil worshiping?! At the start of chapter 2 the comic described whatever happened there as this:

Divine magic is power imparted by a god upon one of their worshipers, a reward for prayer and good service in the deity's name. But there are other paths to power as well…Dark pacts with strange beings whose magic and influence rival the glory of the divine, even if they are not called gods by those who define such things. woe to any who fall under their sway or drink deep from their corruption.

It implies the Absolute is not a real God, and the description doesn't really fit the Netherbrain neither. The use of those "powers" that the Absolute offered were described as "Dark pacts"

After all that, I looked into whether or not devils even could have dream powers and turns out yeah a certain type of fiend do! There's 3 type of incubus/succubus, EA dream visitor was really similar to the fiendish type who are neither devil nor demon : "Fiendish succubi commonly used their ethereal form to slip through walls to reach a mortal's bedside, and linger there as they slept. Here, they filled their victim's dreams with debauched scenes and whispered of forbidden pleasures, tempting them to indulge in dark desires, appetites, and taboos. The more the succubus did this in their dreams, the more vulnerable their victim became to temptation in the waking world. Eventually, the succubus entered the mortal realm directly, in a pleasing form previously seen only in the dreams, and befriended or seduced their victim, so they could influence them directly and indulge all their desires so they would perform evil deeds of their own free will. When the victim was utterly corrupted, such as by committing three betrayals of thought, word, and deed, their soul was in the grip of the succubus, without need of contract or pledge. For a more virtuous victim, this corruption might take longer, but their downfall was all the more rewarding for the succubus. Finally, the succubus slew their victim with a kiss, and the corrupted soul went down to the Lower Planes as their prize." "Fiendish succubi could become ethereal by slipping into the Ethereal Plane. They could also magically charm a humanoid, in sight up to 30 feet (9.1 meters) away, and make them obey any command they gave them. The victim might resist, especially if made to perform a harmful or suicidal action." It's all very similar to EA dream visitor and that also explains why EA dreams were so seductive but the only thing that doesn't line up is succubus could only have one charmed victim at a time...so i'm not really sure.

Looking back on it now, I think the character who replaced Daisy wasn't the Emperor, It was The Dark Urge(or more precisely Bhaal) What we were resisting in EA dreams was the dream visitor themself, not the urge to kill them. This would happen if you failed that charisma check(I find it weird that some people still insist that original Tav was Durge/a Bhaalspawn even when the writer straight up confirmed that's not true.) My theory is those "urges" were the consequences of using the tadpole powers and not resisting the dream visitor. The character that the emperor replaced was actually Orpheus(Emperor existed even before the rewrite. I'm not sure what his original role was, But his name was datamined back in ea) Orpheus was the person in the artefact that help the party and prevented them from becoming mind flayers, Based on this datamined conversation with Halsin (x)

Halsin: You're aware of the monster inside you. You don't bow to the Absolute, like the true souls do. How is this possible…? Tav: A being called Orpheus is protecting me; Shielding me from the worst of parasite's magic. Halsin: That sounds…novel. But alright, Who is this Orpheus? I'd like to bend the ear of anyone who knows about these things. Tav: I don't know the truth bout him. I'm not sure he even has an ear to bend. Halsin: Hmm. There's so much stock you can place in mysterious friends with unknown agendas...

These were also datamined about Orpheus (x)

in the game files " the cube contains the long imprisoned spirit of a gith general, who wants to fall into our party's hand in effort to eventually break free."

He's forcing Shadowheart to either join the party or get killed by the party - either way the cube will be where it wants to be.

A mysterious character who is trying to survive and break free, who prevents the party from turning into illithid and Shielding them from the Absolute's influence...That's just the Emperor now. Raphael originally wanted the artifact, so there should have been some sort of connection between him and Orpheus. Orpheus from Greek mythology was a poet and musician who descended into the underworld/hells to bring her wife back, So maybe there was something going on that got cut? .............. Small rant about Mephistopheles I feel like they just slapped him in the game last minute... The fact that Mephistopheles had the Crown of Karsus but did not use it does not make any sense. Mephistopheles is a wizard, ruler of Cania and second most powerful devil next to Asmodeus. he was desperately looking for divinity so he could beat Asmodeus and take his place.(Especially considering what happened between him and his cambion son Magadon just for a portion of the god Mask's divinity. he managed to get only a fraction of that )He could have use the crown, Steal Asmodeus' divinity and easily defeat him. "frigid archivist who made a miracle into a museum piece" is not really who Mephistopheles is ,he's very power hungry and his "most damaging issues" are his "rampantly unchecked megalomania and recklessness in the pursuit of power" The chosen stealing the crown from him is weird on itself(IMO None of them were smart or strong enough to pull that off)And then Mephistopheles did not go after them and let them carry out their plan?why?! I even think Raphael being the son of Mephistopheles was something they added later for several reason: Everything that connects Raphael to him was added after the rewrite(Him wanting The Crown of Karsus, Astarion asking about his scars and Haarlep). This makes him way too similar to EA Mizora, She was supposed to have a powerful devil father. Raphael's concept art looks a lot like Yurgir and other devil concepts from Avernus cut content and shouldn't he be blue?!Because I read somewhere that Mephistopheles's red skin is the result of the experiments he did on himself and he was blue before all that?!

Mephistopheles's deal with Cazador and him wanting 7007 random souls is also kinda ooc for him. He is the one archdevil who prefers quality over quantity("He has the advantage of having the lowest quotas of the archdevils but with the limitation of the highest standards")that's why he's in debt to some of the other archdevils like Dispater and Levistus. He also only makes deal with skilled wizards and cunning sages(Cazador doesn't really fit the bill) My theory is Astarion's back scars originally might had something to do with Raphael himself. Cazador's lair in bg3 art book looks different, Notice how the set up for the ascension ritual isn't there(Instead there is a pool of blood?)

if you look at Astarion page on BG3 artbook, it is mentioned that whatever is carved on his back is part of a poem.

Mephistopheles doesn't make contract in poem form. When the set of the MTG cards that included bg3 characters was released, They published this video explaining each card, Brandy camel (community manager at d&d i think)said this about about Raphael:

Later in the same video she said this when discussing Astarion's card:

He's an individual who's kind of been operating in that place between being rising to nobility but hasn't quite made it there yet, So he's kind of under the thumb of Raphael and he's not super happy about it.

So originally i thought this could be a mistake but if Raphael was EA dream visitor, I can see how he could be involved with Astarion. Here's a little summary of Astarion's og storyline(source of datamined stuff here) So there was this chosen of the Absolute "the Butcher",He and Cazador had a rivalry over who get to control the Baldur's Gate graveyard.(You could have sided with either of them) Cazador sent some of his spawns to investigate the cult, We were supposed to meet them in act2. Astarion wanted to ally with a monster hunter named "Spencer" against them, But if we talked to spawns we would learn that "the Butcher" send his apprentice "Ohler" to the graveyard(he was putting tadpole inside the skeleton's head and that made them hostile toward the vampires ) then an ancient and powerful vampire called"the Alluring" killed him. They also mentioned how they were happy with their situation and that Cazador is an okay boss"It is good. You don't age and everyone is afraid of you. Cazador is a bit strict but he makes sure we are fed" So about how Raphael might have been involved, "the Alluring" was called "Desire/Alluring" in the game files so he(?) was EA dream visitor in disguise... That explains why Astarion was the only one who had nightmare about Cazador instead of tempting dreams like the rest of the party. also in ea if you speak on dead on gur and asked him who sent him he would say this :

Astarion : Who sent you… Was it Cazador? Gandrel: No… Maiden Fel… Astarion : Who is Maiden Fel? Gandrel: Reason… Even monsters… Have nightmares…

If hypothetically Raphael was Daisy, this "Maiden Fel"was also probably him too? ................ so here's another delulu theory: (I know it's not very likely, I wasn't even sure to include it) Raphael's name still bothered me, I couldn't help but think there must be a reason why they name a devil after an archangel. So I checked to see if I could find some sort of connection between Raphael and any of d&d deities(since angels associated with gods) i have two guesses. the first one is Beshaba. Beshaba is "chaotic evil deity of accidents, bad luck, misfortune, and random mischief" and her holy symbol is the horns of a stag. She is the twin sister and sworn enemy of Tymora, the goddess of good luck(they are kinda like Shar and Selune) Raphael has this line in act1"They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don't they?" "Tymora was the most famous deity around the country of Cormyr, after she protected their capital, Suzail, during the Time of Troubles. Her efforts prompted a resurgence of her faith throughout the nation." and there's this one fallen temple of Tymora in the city of Tantras literally called the unlucky"House Of Hope"(x) Raphael has these dialogues "One might say you're a paragon of luck. I'll be there when it runs out" "You're out of luck." which didn't happen This is less likely guess because dnd evil deities don't really have angels... my second guess is Lathander. He's the deity with most similarities to Archangel Raphael "Lathander was a deity of creativity, dawn, renewal, birth, athletics, spring, self-perfection, vitality, and youth. He favoured those who dispelled the undead and blessed those who planted new life. Lathander was also the god called upon to bless birth and fertility related ceremonies.""A common symbol associated with Raphael is the color green. This color is often used to represent healing and renewal, which are two of Raphael's primary areas of expertise. The use of green in depictions of Raphael can also be seen as a nod to the natural world, which is often associated with healing and growth.Finally, Raphael is sometimes depicted holding a fish, which is a symbol of abundance and fertility. This symbol is particularly relevant to Raphael's role as a healer, as it represents the idea of restoring balance and vitality to the body." And both Archangel Raphael and Lathander are commonly associated with the Sun. Lathander is also a god of "hope and beginnings", He and his followers"Strive to bring hope to others" that one statue in the House of Hope with a sun behind his head and plants around his neck looks pretty similar to Lathander's statues in the game...

There's more to this if Raphael was the Original dream visitor. Daisy also spoke of "change", "growth" and a "beautiful and glorious renewal" If you look at the art of "Cultist of the Absolute" MTG card, You can see a window on the background that looks a lot like Symbol of Lathander. In the prequel comic there was this panel where one of the protagonist asked the tadpoled true soul"father Alby"what happened to him and why is he doing all of this, he replied"A simple answer to both questions, I have been Awakened" Novices in the Lathanderian faith are also called the Awakened. In original storyline that supposed to happen in Rosymorn Monastery(x) Kith'rak Voss got some kinda information from there that he wanted to tell Vlaakith about! He had this cut dialogue "I will make for the plane-gate. Vlaakith must hear of this!".The Absolutists REALLY didn't want this information to reach Vlaakith. Even Daisy was going to make an appearance because of it, this was datamined:

We need a system for showing daisy and making them talk to the player in the world// Daisy insists that the player shouldn't let Kith'rak Voss escape.

Why is this information obtained from a temple of Lathander be so important to the cult of the Absolute? Avernus was supposed to be playable and Zariel was also an angel under the command of Lathander before her fall. so maybe there was something going on between Raphael and Lathander ?! like i said I know it's not very likely... ............. So that's all i had to say, I tried to look into it more specially stuff that was datamined from patch5 and 8 of Early access(there was A LOT)but i couldn't find much, Most of the stuff from those patches were deleted or unlisted on YouTube... Just remember I’m literally just sharing my opinion, it is not a personal attack on you or your taste :P ok bye.

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites | Part 9

Check out part 1 here.

CW: None that I can think of.

Meeting up with Cara always helped you feel your spine decompress. You met her at the first club you took a job at. She had been a dancer already, and you with your mismatched and too-small boobs had been relegated to serving drinks. She had caught you watching the girls several times and even trying the pole before shifts started.

For some reason, Cara had decided to take you under her wing. She set you up with a friend of hers who taught pole classes. The number of times you walked home with a bow-legged gait was unreal. Soon enough the inner skin on your thighs didn’t scream any time it touched the pole. Once you had enough skill you were approved to run small sets between the regular dancers. Though you were under no circumstance allowed to remove your bra. Your right side sat vastly smaller than your left. Custom bras were the only way to deal with the discrepancy. The money you earned from the between-set dances and the lap dances paid for your implants.

Cara, again being a saint, became more than a mentor. She became your best friend. If you think too hard or too long about where you would be without her the tears start to flow. If soul mates existed yours lived in a body named Cara.

Chin resting in your hand you stare at her across the table. Her dark eyes and perfectly done-up hair accentuate how beautiful she is.

The snapping of fingers in front of your nose brings you back to the present.

“Did they put straight gasoline in that mimosa? You were staring,” Cara eyes you.

“No,” sitting back in your chair you adjust your legs and cross your arms. “I was thinking about how if soul mates exist you have to be mine.”

Watery shock fills Cara’s eyes.

“You can’t do that to me. People already don’t believe me when I tell them you aren’t my girlfriend.” Cara flapped a hand at her eyes, blinking and staring at the ceiling to fight off tears. “But thank you. I think you would be my soul mate as well.”

Plucking your previously mentioned mimosa from the table you smile into it as you take a sip. The mimosas at this cute little cafe, several small tables filled the space. Fresh flowers on every table and the soft, bright colors on the walls were only some of the reasons this was your favorite morning spot.

With a slight shake of her head and a light dab at her eyes, Cara focused back on you. Her shrewd eyes came out.

“Alright, spill. You said something bad had happened but it needed to be discussed in person,” Cara threaded her fingers together leaning on her elbows on the table.

You can’t stop the worried expression that passes over your face as you take another sip of the drink in your hand.

“So uh,” you set it down, ruffling your hair with your hand.

“Oh fuck, you’re touching your hair something bad bad happened.”

If you could stab her with your eyes you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Bitch you are not supposed to use your powers for evil! Let me tell you what happened before you jump to conclusions!” You huff out a breath, conscious now of the desire to touch your hair. “But yes, fine a few things have happened but you are not allowed to ask any questions until I am done.”

Pointing to her for good measure you waited until she rolled her eyes and put her hands up in defeat.

“Caroline canned me for the incident I told you about where Todd let a fight start and escalate until I had to get involved.”

Cara cut in, “The one where you nearly got clocked in the nose right?”

“You couldn’t escape a paper bag with the way you listen, now hush and let me finish.” You glared until she apologized and pulled her purse to the table.

As Cara dug out her compact or lip gloss you continued.

“So I am out a job when I am so fucking close to making it out,” you clock the nasty look an old woman of god sends you but ignore it. “But wouldn’t you know it one of the guys that came in with my brother came in that same night to offer me a job. So,” you rush to keep talking before she can open her mouth as you can clearly see she wants to, “I had dinner with them, accepted the job, and ended up telling Johnny the reason I dance is dear old dad putting me on the internet. I managed to do it without yelling even.”

Looking fit to burst your best friend is chomping at the bit to say her piece.

“Hold that thought, our food is coming.” Looking up with a smile to the young man delivering your food, “Thank you so much for your help, Wyatt.”

He nods and sets both plates down on the table, taking a step back.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He glances from you to Cara.

“Can I get some salsa please?” You ask with a warm smile.

“Of course, that should be just a minute,” Wyatt nods and walks away.

“Bitch what the fuck is your life! First off, not yelling at your brother? He deserved it. Second how much are you getting for the job?”

Bless her for not asking what the job is, the NDA you signed would have you hanging by your ankles if you broke it.

“No, I didn’t yell at him. It was in front of all of his teammates. Johnny works as special forces of all things.” You keep talking even as you queue up your first bite of omelet. “I delivered the news like a calm badass and left the house they are renting. Did I cry the entire walk to my car? Yes, but that is not the point. Job is paying 30K.”

Cara lifted both brows at her food.

“Damn, that’s double what you needed to get out right?”

Humming confirmation around the food in your mouth you nodded.

Swallowing, you hold a finger to your lips.

“Yeah, I won’t even have to quit since Caroline let me go.”

“What a bitch,” Cara shook her head. “I can’t believe she let you go over an air horn. An air horn that saved her property damage and saved the girls from getting hurt I might point out!” She pointed her fork at you aggressively.

‘Willing to go to bat’ was something you wanted to put on a T-shirt for Cara.

“I did do that, but she wasn’t pleased I hid them in the ceiling and I bet Todd has been gunning for my head for a long time. He didn’t like that I never kowtowed to his demands.”

“Well, you have a hard time listening to authority,” Cara acknowledged offhandedly.

“If I wanted a mental evaluation I would schedule an appointment with my therapist,” you gape at her. Bitch knew you better than anyone and weaponized it.

Cara, the bitch, laughs at your outrage.

The obnoxious sound of your phone going off cuts off your well-timed and deserved middle-finger salute. Pulling it out the caller ID noted three money bags.

“Ah, the new boss. One second.”

Swiping to accept the call you lifted the phone to your ear.

“What’s up?”

“Free today?”

“Depends on the reason,” you counter.

“Have an opening at a fancy dress shop at 2 PM today if you can make it. You’re going to need the right kind of clothes to fit in,” Price offers by way of explanation.

“Send lover boy with a card and car, he can pick us up at my place.” You catch Cara’s eye and point to the uneaten food.

She waves a hand, no she doesn’t want to take it. You nod in acknowledgment, waving for Wyatt who had stepped around a corner. Cara will handle getting the bill.

“Us?” Comes his careful question.

“My bestie will be coming, you think I am going to trust lover boy’s opinion on such an important matter as this?”

“You signed an NDA.”

Cutting him off you say your piece.

“I can shop with my best friend without breaking an NDA. This isn’t my first rodeo with them. Now what time should we be ready for pick up?”

Cara called you steamroller for a reason. You dig out your card from your wallet, it is your turn to buy. Passing it over you focus back on your call.

“He will be there at 1300.”

“Ooo big number, translate it for me.”

The confused look from Cara meant she caught your tone switch to demanding but sweet.

“Gaz will be at your home at 1 PM.”

“Thanks, Captain,” you sprinkle in a touch of sweetness to your tone.

He grunts and hangs up.

“That sounds interesting,” Cara eyes you, mischief in her gaze.

“Not nearly as interesting as it’s about to be. Come on, we are heading to my house. I am curious to see your take on our driver.” Grabbing your purse you hauled it up to your shoulder.

Wyatt returned rather quickly with your card, after signing the receipt you lead the way to the parking lot with Cara in tow.

“You’ve piqued my interest, anything I should know going in?” Cara watches you as she asks.

“Nope, I want your cold read on him.”

“Can do. I will see you at your house then.”

Waving to your best friend you climb in your car and head home to get ready for an interesting afternoon.

@leahnicole1219

Bunny Masterlist | Masterlist

[anonymousewrites]

Apple of My Eye Chapter Two

Eventual! Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Chapter Two: Friend Like Me

Summary: (Y/N) and the VKs get along very well, even if other Auradon kids are avoiding them.

            (Y/N) grimaced as they walked towards the “Remedial Goodness 101” classroom. They wished they had known about the class before Evie, Carlos, Mal, and Jay arrived. Then they could have said, “No, that’s a terrible idea for a class because it’s demeaning and horrible and also says to their face that we think they’re stupid and already evil.”

            Unfortunately, it was done, and the VKs were stuck in the class. Fortunately, the hour was up, and (Y/N) got to save them from Fairy Godmother’s cliches and take them to their next class.

            “You find a vial of poison!” said Fairy Godmother dramatically. “Do you: A, put it in the king’s wine? B, paint it on an apple?—” Laughter from Evie, non-malicious, and the others— “Or C, turn it over to the proper authorities?”

            “Obviously paint it on an apple,” said (Y/N) as they walked into the room. “Because who is silly enough to take an apple from a stranger?” They laughed.

            Evie chuckled a little, Mal snorted, and Jay and Carlos grinned. Fairy Godmother sighed, used to (Y/N)’s humor, and put on a smile.

            “Is our time up already?” said Fairy Godmother.

            “You’re the stickler for time,” said (Y/N). “It’s time for gym for Jay and Carlos, and Evie and Mal have English with me.”

            “Alright, don’t be late,” said Fairy Godmother, waving as her students packed up to leave. “And remember to be good!”

            “I’m really sorry about that class,” said (Y/N). “I think Ben was pushed into allowing it so that everyone would relax.” They sighed. “At least it’s an easy A.”

            “Pick the least fun option is the answer key,” said Mal, smirking. She’d already figured it out.

            (Y/N) chuckled.

l

            “Welcome to our poetry class,” said (Y/N), sitting down at a table. Evie and Mal sat across from them.

            “We have to write about our feelings?” said Mal, unimpressed.

            “No, we can write about anything. Today’s a free day,” said (Y/N). “We can either read the assigned pieces—we’re currently reading about poems on nature and how some social classes look at nature positively due to their position while others look at it negatively—or we work on our own pieces. At the end of the year we’ll have a curated collection to show growth and understanding of various techniques.”

            “I’m still not going to make it…sappy,” said Mal.

            “Do spells have a cadence?” asked (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Mal. “Obviously. Otherwise you’re just talking.”

            “So spells are poems with magic,” said (Y/N). “Try making your own spell.”

            “And it can be anything?” said Mal, considering now. She could create an evil spell to impress her mother with.

            “Preferably not a curse, I don’t think anyone would appreciate that,” said (Y/N).

            Mal hummed noncommittedly. She’d behave in front of everyone, but her mission was clear. She would make her mother proud.

            “I’m going to write about finding my prince,” sighed Evie. “And castles. And ballgowns.”

            “You’re going to love your arts elective,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “It’s design.”

            Mal could have sworn she saw hearts in Evie’s eyes and decided to erase the disgusting sight from her memory. And she pushed away the smile that twitched at the edges of her lips upon seeing her best friend so happy.

l

            “I can use any of this,” said Evie, staring at the rolls upon rolls of fabric before her.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N) as they sketched. “And if you’re part of the design club, you can come any time during the day, not just your class.” They smiled. “Most people in this class do it to learn small DIYs, they still like their personal tailors and everything, but some people have made formal gowns and suits here, too.”

            “I’m going to make a whole new wardrobe,” said Evie, flipping open her sketchbook and getting to work.

            (Y/N) smiled.

l

            “You don’t have to work with me,” said Mal coldly as she measured the chemical they were about to combine in the flask. Chemistry required a lot of close attention.

            “You needed a partner, and everyone else here knows someone,” said (Y/N), holding the flask steady.

            “You mean no one wants to work with the Villain Kid,” said Mal, straightforward. “And you’re assigned to us.”

            “I volunteered,” said (Y/N).

            Mal paused and looked at them. “You volunteered?” She didn’t believe it.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Why?” demanded Mal.

            “Because I think Ben’s right,” said (Y/N). “You and all the other children born on the Isle aren’t at fault for what your parents did. You deserve freedom, a chance to live your own story.” They smiled. “So I volunteered to work on the project. I want you, Evie, Carlos, and Jay to do well here so that Ben can bring more kids over.”

            “And yet he chose the worst and the worst to start out with,” said Mal.

            “Go big or go home, right?” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “My mom tried that by turning into a dragon, and I think she got the ‘go home’ option. She’s still not over that,” remarked Mal with a grin.

            “My mom had to create a pros and cons list for eating nectarines because they’re a cross of peaches and apples, and she’s still suspicious of all apples,” said (Y/N).

            The pair looked at each other before laughing.

l

            “How do you think things are going?” asked Ben excitedly. “I think Jay is interested in Tourney, and Carlos likes Dude!”

            “That’s great,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “I saw Mal with Jane. Are they friends?” said Ben, a large grin on his face. “This is going so well.”

            “Slow down,” said (Y/N). “It’s only been a few days. Things are still settling for them.”

            “But it has been going well,” said Ben.

            “Well, they’ve been doing well in classes, which is good,” said (Y/N). “And Jane and Mal have hung out more.” They frowned. “Even if it is because Mal did Jane’s hair…” They were a bit hesitant around beauty magic due to the…lengths some people went with insecurities—someone trying to murder your mother over looks would make you unsure about that magic—but it was just hair, right? And it was a nice thing Mal did. “But Jane seems happier, and Mal was only hanging with the VKs and me before that, so I guess it’s a step. And Evie spends time with Doug. And Chad, unfortunately, but he’s harmless other than having a pretty face with no real brain.”

            “You spend a lot of time with them,” said Ben. “You guys seem to be real friends.”

            “Jealous?” said (Y/N), glancing at Ben. They knew he spent a lot of time checking up with Mal when he saw her.

            He coughed and turned a bit red. “Jealous? No, just concerned. I want to make sure they’re doing well.”

            “Uh-huh,” hummed (Y/N).

l

            “Mom said, ‘If a boy can’t see the beauty within, then he’s not worth it,’ ” complained Jane. “Can you believe it? What world does she live in?”

            “Auradon,” said Mal.

            “Jane, do you want a man who only wants beauty or one that loves all of you?” said (Y/N).

            Jane sighed. “All of me. But they all want beauty, too.”

            “You are beautiful, Jane,” said (Y/N). They wished their friends could see their own beauty, inside and out.

            “Says the child of Snow White, the most beautiful woman ever,” grumbled Jane.

            “Does it look like I got those genes?” said (Y/N), leaning on their hand.

            Jane huffed. “Still better than me. I got stocky fairy genes.”

            “Mal, (Y/N), what do you think?” Evie held up her latest creation, a black and blue dress.

            “It brings out your eyes,” said Mal.

            “It looks nice,” said (Y/N).

            “I know,” said Evie proudly.

            “I’ll never get a boyfriend,” bemoaned Jane.

            “Boyfriends are overrated,” said Mal.

            “How would you know, Mal? You’ve never had one,” said Evie.

            “It’s ‘cause I don’t need one, E,” retorted Mal. “They’re a waste of time.”

            Evie gasped at the mention of time. “I forgot to do Chad’s homework!”

            “And that is exactly what I mean,” said Mal.

            “Evie, you shouldn’t do it for him,” said (Y/N). “He is not worth it.” Evie was worth so much more than just her looks, and that was all Chad would look at.

            “What, is he a bad ex?” said Mal, smirking.

            “No, he’s just a shallow idiot,” said (Y/N). “Think male version of Audrey but less sharp.”

            Mal snorted at the description.

            “You always land great partners,” said Jane. “That’s why you don’t worry like I do.”

            “I’ve had two dates,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “And neither of them were right for me.”

            Evie put down Chad’s homework to grin. “Spill. Who?”

            “Princess Ariel and Prince Eric’s son and Prince Naveen and Princess Tiana’s daughter,” said (Y/N).

            “You dated two royals?” Evie sighed. “Lucky.”

            “I went out on one day with each, but neither gave me a real spark. I just felt content. I didn’t feel alive,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “I’m still waiting to find True Love.”

            “True Love, huh? If it hadn’t defeated my mom, I wouldn’t believe in it,” said Mal.

            “It is pretty rare,” admitted (Y/N). “But it would still be nice to find it.”

            Evie smiled softly. “Yeah.”

            Knock-knock.

            Lonnie, (Y/N)’s friend, knocked on the door of the room and peeked inside.

            “Hi,” she said, smiling at everyone. “I’m Lonnie. My Mom’s Mulan? No? Anyways, I love what you’ve done with Jane’s hair.” Lonnie grinned at Mal. “And I know you hate us, and, well, you’re evil—” (Y/N) frowned “—But do you think you can do mine?”

            Mal frowned. “Why would I do that for you?”

            “I’ll pay you fifty dollars,” said Lonnie.

            “Good answer.” Evie took the money. “I need to buy more material. Let’s see…I’m thinking we’ll lose the bangs, maybe some layers, and some highlights.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I want it to be cool,” said Lonnie. “Like Mal’s.”

            “The split ends, too?” said Evie. Mal glowered, and Evie just smirked and shook the money at her.

            Mal sighed, grabbed her spell book, and flipped through it. “Okay…‘Beware, foreswear, replace the old with cool hair.’ ” She drew a design in the air with her finger.

            Lonnie’s hair became a lighter brown and cascaded down her shoulders in soft curls. She touched the soft locks and looked into the mirror. Her eyes widened.

            “I know, I know,” said Evie. “It looks like a mop on your head. You know what, let’s cut it off. Layer it—”

            “No, no, no,” said Lonnie, grinning. “I love it.”

            “You do?” said Evie.

            Lonnie grabbed the edge of her skirt and ripped. Now she had a slit in her skirt. “Now I’m cool,” she said proudly.

            Jane walked up next to her and looked in the mirror. She grabbed the hem of her skirt. She tore. Then, she gasped. “What did I just do? Mom’s gonna kill me.”

            “She won’t, it’s just a skirt,” said (Y/N), waving a hand.

            “Thanks, Mal,” said Lonnie. She smiled. “I’m going to tell all the girls. Bye!” She left the room. Jane hurried out after her, already trying to figure out what to tell her mom about her skirt.

l

            (Y/N) yawned as they walked towards the dorm kitchen. They were starving, and they’d run out of fruit they’d kept in their dorm, so off to the kitchens they went. They opened the door and found a startled Mal, Evie, Carlos, and Jay staring at them from inside.

            Smiling, they walked farther in. “Hey, guys, grabbing a midnight snack, too?” They looked at the cookie batter on the table. “Looks good. Mind if I try some?” They grabbed a spoon, dipped it, and took a bite. “Mmm.”

            Evie and Mal winced, Carlos and Jay exchanged glances, and all four looked at (Y/N) expectantly.

            “Do you…feel anything?” said Evie slowly.

            “Like it’s…missing something?” said Mal.

            “You guys could add chocolate chips,” suggested (Y/N), turning to the fridge. Behind them, all the VKs let out a breath of relief that nothing had gone wrong.

            “Chocolate chips?” said Jay, furrowing his brow.

            “Some of the best treats out there,” said (Y/N), taking a bag out of the fridge. They smiled. “My mom would always add them to brownies and cookies when I was feeling down.” (Y/N) sprinkled some into the bowl, and the VKs watched the tiny pieces of chocolate mix with the batter.

            “Feeling down?” said Evie quietly.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), leaning on the table. “I had a tough time with insecurity growing up. When everyone in the world thinks your mom is beautiful, they make comments expecting you to be. It took me a while to learn not to compare myself to others.” They smiled as they remembered their childhood. “But my mom would always remind me of what mattered when I got down, and she’d make us sweets, put on a movie, and just hold me.” They looked up, and their face fell.

            Each of the VKs was staring at them with a strange look in their eyes. Carlos had leaned in longingly. Jay was silent, looking at his feet. Mal had furrowed her brow, confused by the idea of what (Y/N)’s mom was like. Evie stared at the cookie batter, thinking of all the times she’d been insecure and been reminded she would never be as fair as her mom but she needed to be second best at least.

            They hadn’t gotten that softness, that kindness.

            “Did I…say something?” said (Y/N) quietly. They hadn’t meant to upset them.

            Mal cleared her throat. “It’s just different where we’re from.”

            “Oh. So your parents didn’t—” (Y/N) swallowed as they watched the VKs shift and blink away their emotions. Tears burned the edges of (Y/N)’s eyes. The VKs’ parents hadn’t helped any of them deal with their insecurities and instead fed into them. “I’m sorry,” whispered (Y/N). “You deserve better.” A tear ran down their cheek.

            Mal’s eyes widened, she reached out, and she wiped the tear from (Y/N)’s cheek. (Y/N) blinked in confusion, and Mal flicked her hands dry—and the tear “happened” to fall into the bowl of batter.

            “Yeah, well, big bummer,” said Mal, clearing her throat and moving on. She was not soft. “But we have to get these in the oven, so thank you so much for coming by.”

            “Bye,” said Evie as Mal pushed (Y/N) towards the door.

            “Oh, yeah, right,” said (Y/N). They wouldn’t intrude any more after ruining the mood. “Goodnight.”

            “We’ll see you tomorrow,” said Mal.

            “Swe—Evil dreams,” said Evie.

Taglist:

@neenieweenie

@hampterfae

@american-idiot-jpg

@lunalixya

@roo024

@unholycheesesnack

@paastaboi

@lbee13

[lady-griffin]

Interesting enough, I don’t think Jinx really dehumanizes her enemies.

Or that’s not true.

She does dehumanize her enemies, we do see that, it’s just not to the same degree as others do it. Because really, it isn’t so much a matter of Jinx not seeing her enemies as human, but more so she doesn’t care if they are – because they’re all “human.”

Morality and the ideas of good and bad aren’t factors for Jinx. Not really.

She doesn’t justify her actions in the same way other characters do, largely because Jinx is very much on her own side and that’s all the justification she needs for herself; it’s not all that complicated for her, because why would it be?

A good comparison would be Caitlyn and her utter disbelief and horror that people would dare attack a memorial – because who would do such a thing? Who would be so evil and immoral? They’re animals. They’re monsters.

But let’s say there was a memorial for Silco –

Caitlyn would 100% attack it to get to Jinx without batting an eye, because Silco and Jinx are the bad guys, they're morally evil, and obviously attacking Silco's memorial wouldn’t even be close to the same thing as someone attacking her mother’s memorial service.

Her doing it to her enemy is justified, but someone doing it to her loved one could never be justified… because of valid reasons.

Jinx on the other hand, would be furious at someone for attacking Silco’s hypothetical memorial but that’s only because he was HER loved one. Noone crossed some hypothetical moral line; they just crossed her so obviously she’s going to try and brutally murder them.

Jinx is overall very selfish and bias towards herself, so while we can see a double-standard in her thinking, oddly enough (at least for me) it doesn’t feel hypocritical.

Like, Jinx wouldn’t ask who would attack a memorial service, because she definitely would.

She would absolutely care about Silco’s and not give a damn about her enemies – because Silco is her loved one and those are her enemies – it’s as simple as that. There is no good or bad, it's just whether you're her person or not.

And as I'm writing this part out now it's just occurred to me why we see more of Jinx's double-standards and even hypocrisy when it comes to Vi specifically – because Vi is both Jinx's loved one and her enemy.

In regards to Vi and the chem-tanks, she would absolutely be thrown and very upset if some kid came in and cried over their dead parent’s body. Because now the chem-tank she just killed is as real and as human as she is.

Which arguably could be why Vi goes so hard in "Jinx is not my sister" and "that monster killed my sister," because if Jinx is indeed her sister (she is) then her enemy isn't someone she can dehumanize or disassociate her violence from, because it's her sister…

With Jinx though, I don't really see her caring or being moved by her enemy's child crying over their body. I mean maybe, she is Jinx and full of surprises. But I doubt it…

It’s not that Jinx doesn’t dehumanize others, it’s more so – they’re all monsters - including her. Being a monster isn’t good or bad – it’s just what they all are.

It was hard to put into words what I was thinking, so I don’t know if I made much sense here, but hopefully I did.

“Never thought [my sister] would orphan children.”

*Stares at Vi*

*Stares at Powder’s grenades*

*Stares back at Vi*

*Gestures wildly towards Powder’s grenades*

Vi sweetie, you encouraged her. You expected them to work one day. It didn't occur to you she could possibly kill someone who was a parent?

Don’t get me wrong, Powder wasn’t some violent, blood hungry kid, but also...

Violet she was making fucking bombs!!!

Like @embershroud108 has said many times, Vi has become fixated on an idealized version of Powder that never existed.

Though I do genuinely think when they were younger, she didn’t consider the full ramifications of the possibility of Powder killing people, because why would she? She was an angry, young teenager.

She also wasn't going to really care about those people, because those would’ve been her enemies too, so they wouldn’t have “counted” so to speak.

But seriously Vi, how do you know the chem-tanks you've killed weren't parents?

I mean it's almost like anyone, despite how monstrous they are to you or your side, can be someone else's loved one.

[braveryhearted]

"What's soap? Protein's better". So help him.

[xt-fxllxwed-me-hxme]

is this a anon x mark or just a rp blog

((Uh.. Just for rp tbh. I as a fictive don't feel comfortable with that sort of stuff.

-Mod Mark

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[bravesaboteur]

The more I think about it, the more Laios and Falin's different perceptions of their parents are a case of "same parents, different childhood".

Whenever someone asks Laios about his and Falin's family, he comments on how they treated Falin but never comments about how how their childhood affected him - in fact, he kind of glosses over it. It's Falin that everyone is rallying to save, it's Falin that's Marcille's friend, it's Falin that everyone has a positive opinion of - he's just the weirdo brother that gets to share some of her light sometimes. He's the one who's only tolerated when he's useful in a dungeon. Falin's treatment is a large part of the reason that he left, but it's the symptom of a larger issue.

When we see Laios' thoughts of his parents in his nightmares, it's all about the expectations that he's supposed to live up to: the expectation to stop being "childish", the expectation to get married (to who his parents picked) and have children, the expectation to take over from his father as the village chief, the expectation to adapt to something that he isn't able to be in the way that people want him to. And these are all things that he has had to be told in some way: he had to be told that Shuro didn't like him, he had to be told that told that the gold-peelers were taking advantage of him - these aren't thoughts that just appeared on their own, these are all failures that someone has explicitly pointed out to him and they haunt him. Some of the things he considers his biggest failures are his failure to provide for and protect Falin and those have very tangible examples he can point to.

We get a glimpse of what happens when he fails to live up to his father's expectations when Falin is born. He expects a certain reaction from Laios and when he fails to give that reaction he physically puts him down, dismisses him, and underestimates how much he understands.

And that's something that's shown to be a bit of a sore point for him - people thinking that he doesn't understand something because he doesn't express himself like people expect. The few times we see him snap at people are because people think he isn't understanding something because he isn't reacting "normally".

On Falin's side, the expectations seem to be a lot different - she's the younger one, for one, she's a girl, and she was so young when the fallout from her having magic happened. She too had an arranged engagement, but that was broken off when she was sent away to magic school and since then, their parents only seem to be passively involved in her life. She's mostly been freed of the expectations that their parents had for her in her village - she won't be coming back after all. She understands why they sent her away, she wasn't completely oblivious to the villagers treatment of her and it was, arguably, for the best so she is at peace with what their relationship is for now. But she still wants to go to her hometown and see for herself with adult eyes because she has never really had the space to do that.

I don't think their parents are inherently evil people - the truth is probably somewhere between Laios and Falin's version of the story, Laios' side tinged by too much cynicism and Falin's by too much naivete.

It just strikes me that when he tried to provide the "normal" way he failed, but given the space to do something similar to what people expected of him, but in his own way, he succeeded. He isn't perfect but his efforts are ultimately fruitful and he is able to carve out a place for himself, Falin, and others who had been ostracized like them to call home.

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?���

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[singmyaubade]

Shades Of Cool

toxic!dark!rafe cameron x female!pogue!reader

summary: you are just living your life, completely normal and free. but, what happens when rafe cameron decides that you are his? he's danger.

warnings: smut! 18+ stalking, manipulation, rafe is obsessed with reader, fingering, swearing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, praise, oral (male receiving), dark!rafe cameron, choking, jealousy, violence, heavy smut..

a/n: i'm delighted I'm finally starting this, even if it took me so long. i genuinely hope you all enjoy this series. i understand that this a bit short, but the narrative is only getting started, so things will only get wilder! however, it is to be expected—this is a rafe cameron fic.

series

One thing that you hated about Outer Banks was how the heat still radiated at night, causing excessive amounts of water to be drank and a great amount of fans that blew hot air into your face.

It only made everyone irritable and only caused more arguments like now,

"I swear to god JJ, I am about to fucking murder you if you say another word," You hissed, giving him a glare as he mockingly grew scared.

"I agree," Cleo said before falling back into her nap.

"All I'm saying is that we have been moping around here for hours meanwhile we could be partying on the fresh beach and cool water," JJ replied, using his hands to represent the scenery to all of you.

"I'm going to have to agree with Y/N," Pope said, turning his head to JJ, "I'm already in tough shit with my parents for when you knocked over my great-grandmothers vase," Pope glared.

JJ put his hands up in defense, "I told you tequila makes me clumsy,"

"Besides every single Kook is there, including Rafe and if he sees Sarah with us, it will only bring another fight and you are not going back to jail," Kie warned, still closing her eyes while the fan blew the air in her face, blowing her hair.

"When have we ever been scared of Rafe?" JJ asked.

"When he gave me a full smackdown for doing my job," Pope scoffed.

"And when he almost drowned me," Sarah chimed in from across the room where she was laying on John B's legs on the carpet floor.

"And when he shot Sheriff Peterkin in front of us," John B added.

"And when-" Pope began.

"Okay that's enough," He said as you giggled, turning your head back to the fan.

You didn't know much about Rafe Cameron since you had moved to Outer Banks only last year and you had met the "star Pogues" a few months ago.

You had never really seen Rafe's face ever, only heard of him honestly.

But you didn't know if it was a bad thing.

All you had heard about was how evil and villainous he was which caused some places to be off limits for the fact that the boys couldn't handle another beat down with the Kooks and there was a greater matter at hand.

But still, you always were curious about "evil" Rafe Cameron.

"You guys are no fun," JJ pouted, sitting beside you on the couch.

You patted the lower part of his leg, "Poor baby," You sarcastically said to which moved his leg swiftly causing you to laugh.

Suddenly the lights and fans turned off as you all except for JJ groaned, knowing that meant the electricity was off you and you would have to deal with the heat and darkness.

Which meant the only choice was the beach party,

JJ cheered, "I win!"

You crossed your arms as you walked on the warm sand, lots of cheering and loud music around you. You could see the Kooks and the Pogues in their own groups, not daring to interact with eachother.

It was hard to get used to the fact that there were two groups of people based on economic statuses and that it meant that if you were one thing, the other one hated you.

You had never been to a place like that but you just kinda got used to it.

Yet you still could never tell which group was really which sometimes.

You were forced to walk around by yourself as John B and Sarah wandered off to a quiet spot while JJ started drinking with Kie as his babysitter and Cleo and Pope wandered around.

All of it sounded like a lot of third wheeling which made you stay away.

But you didn't mind being alone, you liked listening to the waves and watching the festivities that went along with a party.

And you knew that a beer would help you get more into the party festivities.

You walked over the keg where a man with a shaved head and a matching tank top and shorts poured himself a beer as you curiously looked at him.

You had to admit that he was one of the most attractive men you had seen before.

His lips were a perfect shade of pink and they were smooth like sucking on a cherry. His veins were bulging from his hands and you could see the peach fuzz on his jawline that you could only really see upclose.

You snapped out of your analysis as he looked at you as you waited there awkwardly, forming a smile on your face.

"Sorry to creepily stand here, I'm just trying to get a uh-" You said, pointing to the keg.

His face studied you for a second, almost as if he was trying to figure you out. You could tell by his face that he had never seen you before and he looked as if he was trying to figure out if you were a Kook or Pogue.

He chuckled, "Didn't mean to take so long, I wouldn't have if I had seen your pretty face sooner," He smirked, looking you up and down, causing you to blush.

You felt stupid for blushing over something that a man probably said to every pretty girl he saw but you felt something different about him.

You were taken aback by his boldness, "Do you say that to every women that waits for her turn on the keg?" You teased.

"Only the pretty ones," He replied, causing you to laugh.

"Smooth talker I see," You smiled.

"Always," He joked, "I swear I've never seen you around and usually, you know everyone in Outer Banks," He probed.

"Yeah, I just moved here last year," You answered, "I haven't made my rounds yet,"

"Figured," He said, "I would've definitely noticed you,"

"Pfft," You beamed, "I'm sure you would've walked past me on the beach, there are many beautiful girls here,"

"Nah," He laughed, looking off, "You are different from them,"

"How could you already assume that?" You asked, curiosity biting at you.

"For one, you aren't stuck up and preppy which is most the girls on this island," He grinned as you giggled.

"Ay, they aren't all like that," You replied.

"Most of 'em," He added, "But I don't pay much attention to them,"

"Figures," You said, eyebrow raising.

He saw your eyes move the keg and his cup before he offered his cup forward.

"Might as well take mine, I wouldn't feel proud of myself if I let you pour one yourself," He winked.

Great attempt at being a gentlemen.

"No no, I got it," You said before he shook his head.

"I insist" He said, his thumb grazing yours.

"Thank you," You smiled, "I'm Y/N" You introduced, taking the cup from him while extending your other hand for him to shake.

He shook your hand, "I'm Rafe," He replied with a smile as yours slowly fell.

The Rafe? The Rafe you were basically supposed to never interact with and who was the supposed devil? That Rafe?

"Rafe Cameron?" You asked, standing frozen.

"Guess my reputation precedes me," He joked as you didn't laugh but instead cleared your throat.

You took your hand back quickly, "Oh, i-it's nice to meet you," You cleared your throat, "My friends are waiting so I'm gonna-"

He clearly figured you out, "Pogue, I'm guessing?" He snickered.

Your face wrinkled, "Is that supposed to be a funny thing?"

"Hilarious actually," He answered, only angering you more.

"I don't see what's funny about that?" You crossed your arms with ur drink resting in your hand.

He wiped his jaw, "Must be tough at the bottom of the food chain,"

Your nose flared, "Must be tough being an elite asshole,"

He laughed, "I just think it's an unfortunate cause, I mean it's just unlucky," He smirked.

Asshole.

"Unlucky?" Your lip pursed, " I think what's more unlucky is thinking that your cool for a fucked up economic status that has been perpetuated on an island,"

"I just don't believe your friends belong on Outer Banks," He said, not a hint of hesitance in his voice.

He really believed in this bullshit.

"I mean you would really rather hang out with a group of dirty Pogues?" He snickered, looking off.

"Well I am one of them and they are my friends," You scoffed, "You seem more dirty than us," You insulted.

"Is that so?" Rafe mocked.

"Do you wanna talk about your father's dirty money?" You asked.

"I would watch that pretty mouth," He replied, inching closer.

"Or what?" You hummed, acting braver than you usually would.

"Fuck around and find out sweetheart," He came closer, breath fawning on your face.

The whiskey on his breath kissed your nose but not breaking your eye contact with him as you inched closer, eyes on his lips.

As he tried to close the gap, you threw the drink in his face. "Oohs" and snickers filled around the both of you as you stomped away from him.

He smirked, wiping the alcohol off of his face.

'What an asshole,' You thought,

Little did you know that Rafe only grew to like you more.

You found JJ and Kie sitting by the beach together as she laid her head on his shoulder. You were thinking about interrupting them but tarnish their moment, you choosing instead to call it a night and also you didn't feel like trying to find the rest of the group.

You were glad that you knew yourself enough to drive to the party considering that you got tired fast. You couldn't really see in the parking lot due to how dark it was and away from the lights.

You digged in your back pocket for your phone to pull out of the flashlight as you reached for your keys but dropped them instead in the process.

You audibly groaned as you searched on the floor in the darkness for the keys. You went on your knees with your flashing light, searching on the ground as you heard footsteps behind you, darting your flashlight behind you but seeing nothing.

You had a bad feeling but you thought it was paranoia because you were alone in the parking lot and maybe a little due to the interaction you had earlier with Rafe.

You couldn't stop thinking about how he came off as nice but switched so quickly into an elitist piece of shit.

Sounds like how they described him.

But still, there was a pit in your stomach that felt like butterflies when he grazed your thumb.

You sighed, pushing the thoughts out as you finally grabbed your keys, using the concrete-sanded floor push yourself back up off the ground.

Suddenly, you felt a cloth on your mouth and a hand covering your waist as your muffled screams filled the parking lot, trying to kick your attacker behind you.

You felt yourself drifting into the darkness as you screamed one last time,

And everything went black.

tags: @hysteriahall @avengersassemblee @lighttism @whereismymindnow @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @vi06ma01 @haven247 @vanessa-rafesgirl @blvebanisters @riordanness @aleidag1rly @muzanjackson22

[luveline]

More spencer x hotch's sister? I love her relationship with hotch so much btw! Maybe spencer learns some of what she went through in her past?

“What did you get Haley for your six months?” you ask. 

Aaron shakes his basket of fries. You can smell them from your side of the table, salt and grease from the fryer. He doesn’t need to see you looking, maybe he doesn’t care that you want one or not, he tips half of the basket onto your plate and shrugs. “It was a long time ago, I’m not sure I remember. For our first year together I gave her a promise ring, I think.” 

“I don’t think I can get him a promise ring…” You swirl your drink with your straw. Fizzy bubbles rush to the surface. “A ring might be nice, though. Can he wear jewellery in the field?” 

“One nondescript ring would be fine.” 

“Maybe a necklace.” You stab a few of his given fries on your fork and smile. “I’m very stressed, but he’s been so kind the whole time. He never makes me worry about anything.” 

“Spencer is kind.” Aaron glances to the side as a couple sits in the booth opposite. “Admittedly, I was worried. But you’re happy, so I’m happy.” 

“Six months is a long time for no fights.” 

“Honey, some people don’t fight.” 

You toy with a stray piece of lettuce. “I’m really glad that we don’t, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“It won’t drop. You think I’d let you date Spencer if I suspected he was secretly evil?” 

“There are a few things wrong with that question…” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Okay, it won’t drop. Can we get, um, dessert? Rocky road sundaes?” They’re Aaron’s favourite, so they’re yours, too. 

Despite his assurances, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You think about your conversation with Aaron for the days leading up to your six month anniversary with Spencer, which he aptly names your ‘half anniversary’. He doesn’t plan any surprises —he sends you a PDF with different options for everything. Five different restaurants with different options for courses, moods, and settings. There are notes for each place and why you might like them, and there are activities for each one afterwards based on the location. It’s so thoughtful it makes you feel sick. The other shoe looms, and looms. 

You choose a smaller restaurant just outside of the busy city, with a beautiful outdoor eating area on a stone veranda. It’s lively but not crowded, secluded but not completely private. 

Spencer tucks your seat in, and he kisses your cheek before he takes his own. When he does, he looks across the table at you, and says, “Wow, you’re so pretty.” 

“You think so?” 

“You’re beautiful.” He gives you one of his not so shy, almost cheesy smiles, like he wants to laugh. “Do you want your gift now or later?” 

“Is it rude to say I want it now?” 

“No, it’s not rude. I’ll feel better once I know you like it.” 

He presents you with a box wrapped in dark blue crepe paper and rounded silver star stickers. There’s twine wrapped around it and bowed, too beautiful to want to open. You look between him and the present in awe. “This is real pretty,” you say softly. 

“It’s nicer inside,” he says. 

You unravel the twin carefully, and you take off the paper to reveal a large, flat box. You put the paper in your jacket pocket, folded primly to keep. Spencer waits patiently. 

You press your thumbnail into the box’s seam and push. 

It’s four pieces of jewellery. What catches your eye first is the sapphires, blue crystal with deep dark hearts pressed into the pendant of a necklace, the heart of a bracelet, and the main bodies of their matching earrings. All simple, elegant pieces, and compiled, their impressiveness is amplified. Your breath catches. You don’t need to be an expert in jewellery to immediately assign a ballpark price tag, and it’s a lot. It’s sort of startling. 

But the price doesn’t matter half as much as the sentiment. 

“Do you remember them?” he asks softly. 

Fourth date. Hand in hand, you and Spencer walked through a shopping centre with iced drinks and churros, and you’d paused for a few seconds to ogle the jewellery display. You’d pointed straight at the sapphire bracelet and said, “That’s gorgeous. I think if I save, I can get it for Christmas.” 

“I know it’s not Christmas,” Spencer says, “I’m sorry, I cheated. But I hope you like them.” 

“Spencer, I love them, I love them,” —you reach your hand across the table— “I love you. Thank you.” 

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I love you, too.” 

You can’t stop yourself from getting up to hug him. He bends under your weight and holds your arms, doesn’t wince when you press the entirety of your face to his hair and breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, kissing his forehead twice, “thank you, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He takes your face into his hand before you can leave. “You like them?” he asks. 

“I love them.” 

His smile is everything. “I really did cheat, I wrote it down when we got home and you know I can’t forget the things I read,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Six months later and your heart still skips a beat. Doesn’t matter that he has an eidetic memory, what’s important is that he wrote it down. 

You take another hug, to his delight, and return to your seat. Your presents wait in a bag under the table. Two books, one jewellery box. He goes for the smaller box first. 

“It’s a ring,” you say, too nervous to let him discover it by himself. “I know you don’t often wear them, but I thought maybe it’s because it’s not something you’d get for yourself, and I think it would look good on you.” 

He opens the box with a smile. So pretty, and exuberantly bright. “Oh, wow.” 

“I don’t know if brands mean anything to you, but it’s Vivienne–”

“It’s beautiful,” he interrupts, “I love it. What finger do I wear it on?” 

“Most wear it on their marriage finger, I think, but you obviously don’t have to do that.” 

He slips it onto his ring finger, turns his hand one way and another, and there’s this joy that echoes all the way across the table from his very core. “Thank you. I love it, and now every time I look down I'll remember why you gave it to me.” 

You spend a lot of time apart, what with both of you working. “I thought that, too.” 

He takes the books next. His laugh is soft. “I’m not surprised.” 

“They’re… they’re my personal copies.” 

He startles at that. “They are?” 

“Yeah. Uh,” —you point at the first— “that’s my favourite, and I think it could be your favourite too.” 

“And this one?” he asks gently, slipping the first underneath the second. 

“Aaron gave that one to me. I know what you’re thinking, okay, that I’m giving something to you I should really keep. Maybe it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know, but I love you.” You lick your lips. “It’s nice to fall in love. And you’ve made it so easy.” 

He stares at you, lips parted. 

You panic. “It was hard, growing up, and I know everyone struggles but it was hard. If it weren’t for my brother… I feel like it sticks to me and you’ve never made me feel that way. You love me for me. I was convinced nobody would ever do that.” 

“I know it was hard,” he says. 

“Really hard, sometimes, but you aren’t. I’m never scared of you.” 

He reaches across the table to touch your hand. “You aren’t supposed to be scared of anyone, angel.”

Warmth blossoms under his touch. You shake off the fog. “It’s not just about all of that, I swear, I really do think you’ll like them. But if I got it all wrong just lie to me, okay?” 

“You didn’t get anything wrong, shut up,” he says. Spencer stands, his turn to hug you, but he goes about it differently. He tips your head back and he kisses you, and his nose is a pressed line in your cheek as he squeezes you to him. “I’d be surprised if anybody who’s ever met you didn’t love you. Okay? Thank you for trusting me with it.” 

It, and not them, not the books. 

He peels away. You beam at one another. 

“Should we eat?” you ask, feeling pleased and shy at once. 

He kisses you again, one quick peck. “Yes, we can eat.”

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr Gaiman. I have read all of your books.

This is not an ask, rather an answer.

I would like to say thank you for saving me. Knowing I will never meet you will not change the way I feel about you or myself.

Love your fiction work. I feel bad for the fact that it’s not fiction to me. It is my life story.

Very sad one. That I am still trying to make sense of today.

I was raised by the other mother. Not really, but I was raised by a bipolar narcissist who hated me and loved me but didn’t know how to do either. She sexually abused me for 12 years.

No one ever believed me. No one.

So I would pretend that I was Coraline and that I was brave. I was. But that was because I knew that the spell had to break at some point.

I am 24 now. She is old and frail but the hell she has made in my mind - I almost never escaped. Until I understood that I truly was stronger.

Because she tried to make me just like her, but I refused. I picked kindness.

If you can’t find a friend, be one. If you can’t find someone you look up to- become someone who others can look up to.

I did. I tried my best. I promise.

I want to tell you the ultimate secret that no one ever could. You probably figured it out a long time ago, but it still makes me feel better to write it here, even if I know that you might never reply or ask me if I am safe, or dismiss me like a crazed fan/abused child who desperately needs help and attention.

I don’t. I would like to be your friend. But I know it is not possible.

So I want you to know I know why they do it.

They do it for the same reason as you wrote books. To not feel alone.

But that is the problem with existing in this world. Evil is nothing but not understanding yourself and hating different people from you.

Ignorance brings hate. How do you justify yourself in a world like this?

Simple.

You change the world by breading more people who believe hate is love, and love is hate. Evil needs justification. Kindness needs non.

I sat alone for 24 years and told no one. The paragraph above was just the start and the ending.

My story is still unfolding. But I wanted to let you know you are no longer sitting alone at your birthday party.

Because the only present I ever got was knowing someone else like me existed.

Someone who could look evil in the eye and stare back.

And never stop talking about it.

Thank you Mr. Gaiman, for writing “View from the Cheap Seats”

When I read it I put it down as well as the razor that I wanted to end my life with.

Because you were my only friend. And you still are.

And I cannot take the injustice anymore. If they won’t read, I will read to them.

I will save them just like you saved me. Making reading cool and easy.

And I will do it for you and me. So that no one else can see the horrors anywhere but in books and movies.

And I will do it one act of kindness and love at a time.

So they will know that injustice is just a state of mind.

Thank you Mr.Gaiman. You gave me hope.

And now I will do the unthinkable. I will try until my dying breath to change their mind.

One step forward into a future where you are not sad and a story like mine is just a horror movie and not a reality.

Because you are my only friend, and I hate to see my friends sad.

Leto

I'm so proud of you, and this made me tear up.

[gurugirl]

Says Who? | demonrry

Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJOR size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.

She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were… she didn’t know, but perhaps she’d keep her distance.

Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) she’d need a refill.

She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner –it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.

She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.

The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.

Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, “You don’t need another drink, Y/n.”

Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.

“Says who? I’ve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?”

The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.

“Your name is printed on your cup,” he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.

She laughed and smiled, “Oh, I forgot,” she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, “Harry.”

“What’s an angel doing in a place like this anyway?”

Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, “It’s a club. I don’t know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?” Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasn’t worried. But she did like this man’s vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.

“You should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,” an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.

She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, “But you’re here,” she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, “You gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?”

“Is the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?” His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.

“Maybe. But you won’t let me get another drink so I don’t know…”

His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, “Oh you’re parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.”

She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.

“Did you swallow for me?” He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.

Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until they’d moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.

He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves… Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.

But it was Halloween, and this was what she’d been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.

Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers… He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.

“Love when I make angels wet. You’re just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?”

She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping he’d put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.

“Yes…” She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, “Gonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.”

Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donny’s hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).

“Can’t even stand up straight and that’s just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when it’s my cock splitting you in half, hm?”

She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.

Y/n didn’t want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.

Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.

Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, “Look at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck that’s so pretty…”

She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking man’s direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like he’d found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.

“You gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?”

Y/n’s rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, “Open up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.”

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"

Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's… I don't know… It's so…" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.

"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home… No one ever forgets it."

She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.

When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.

"Oohh…" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "Mmm…"

"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."

She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.

"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."

She was already letting him have her. She was his… whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone… sloppy, wet, deranged, disgusting…

"Mm ahhh…" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.

Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.

Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.

She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "Fuck…"

"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."

While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head… it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.

He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her… he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.

She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off –she'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison… but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.

Slushy, gloopy, splatting… his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.

"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."

She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"

Y/n was simply done for… her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.

Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.

Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed it…

She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.

But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.

It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up –he left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.

She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest… Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.

It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran   @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus

@itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @mema10 @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut

@elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @tiredinwinter

@angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo

@brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh @golfrry @caynonmoondreams @danaehldy

@mellamolayla @ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess

@finelinepie @michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994

@devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies

@fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[ugh-yoongi]

hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[braveryhearted]

Saiki, deadpan: The assassins are after me.

Shigeo:

[sachermorte]

so the thing about english is that people think it's so divorced from other germanic languages based on like. words. I've even heard people try to insist that english is a romance language. because of that whole messy business in 1066 with out-of-wedlock willy and his band of naughty normans. and now a good chunk of the vocabulary is french or whatever and they're prestigious so not using them makes you sound like a rube and this and that and the other

and yes william the conqueror will never be safe from me. I will have my revenge on him. he fucked up a perfectly good germanic language is what he did. this will be me in hell

but the thing is that most words in, say, german do have a one to one english equivalent. not all hope is lost, for those who still dare to see it. it's just that you 1066pilled normancels aren't looking in the right place

dog (en) ≠ der Hund (de) but der Hund (de) -> hound (en)

look with your special eyes. that one was easier. not all of them are this intuitive because of semantic narrowing and broadening and waltzing and hokey-pokeying and whatever else. I'll give you a few more

animal (en) ≠ das Tier (de)

aha! you think. I've got him on the ropes now.

but then

das Tier (de) -> deer (en)

nooooo!! you whine and cry in gay baby jail. the consonants are different!!! listen to me. listen, I say, putting both my hands on your shoulder. /t/and /d/ are the same sound. you just put your voice behind one of them.

nooooooooo!! you wail. deer are animals but not all animals are deer!!! listen to me. LISTEN. they used to be. animals used to be deer. that's just what we called them. it was a long time ago. it was a weird time in all our lives. it's okay.

let's try for a verb this time

to die (en) ≠ sterben (de) but sterben (de) -> to starve

same principle with the consonants, we're just changing a stop (where we completely stop the airflow and then let it through) for a fricative (where we still let some air go through. idk where it's going. maybe to its job or something.)

to starve used to mean generally to die, not just to die of malnourishment. we do that a lot. we take one word for a lot of things and make it mean one thing. or take one word for one thing and make it mean a lot of things. this is common and normal.

"okay but roland," you say, suddenly coming up with an argument. "what about tree? trees are super common. I don't think we'd fuck around too much with that. the german word is baum! what about THAT?"

"when did you learn german?" I ask, but then decide it isn't relevant right at this very moment. but fine.

tree (en) ≠ der Baum (de) but der Baum (de) -> beam (en)

beam??? you ask incredulously. beam???? BEAM?????? you continue with the same tone and cadence of captain holt from brooklyn 99.

yes. beam. like the evil beams from my eye I'm going to hit you with if you don't stop shouting.

but the vowels!!! you howl.

listen. listen to me. the vowels mean nothing. absolutely nothing. they're fluid like water. it got raised in english.

"WHAT DOES RAISED MEAN"

it doesn't matter right now. they were raised better than you, at least. stop shouting. open your eyes and see what god has given you. they're the same word.

"they're NOT the same word. they mean different things!"

we've been over this. they didn't used to. a beam was (and is) a long solid piece of wood. much like the long solid piece of wood I showed your mother last night.

FAQ:

Q: could english be some kind of germanic-romance hybrid?

A: do you become a sexy thing from the black lagoon just because you dressed up as one for halloween? english may have gotten a lot of vocabulary from norman french, but its history and syntax are distinctly germanic. that's what we base these things on.

Q: okay but what does it matter? this doesn't actually affect my day to day life

A: you come into my house? you come into my house, the house of an autistic man living in vienna austria and studying english linguistics and you ask me what does it matter? sit back down. I was going to let you go but now I have powerpoints to show you

Q: you're stupid and wrong and gay and a bad person

A: I know it's you, Willy