#((her passion for her work...he likes it all because it's *real*; it's genuinely her; and had she been inauthentic))

[chelseaknoo]

Hey! So, imagine it’s the 2000s, and Eminem has this huge crush on a super-famous pop singer. In an interview, the interviewer asks his opinion on her, and he openly admits that he finds her attractive, which gets everyone talking. Then, they end up collaborating on a song together, and the music video they make is super hot. Fans completely lose it because they can totally tell there’s something going on between them!

2000s Eminem x pop singer! Reader

Caution:sexual content <3

During an interview, Eminem was asked about the up-and-coming pop singer Y/N, and he didn’t hold back his admiration. “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music,” he said, a slight smile hinting at something more. For a while now, Eminem had found himself drawn to her—her beauty was undeniable, but it was her warm, genuine personality that truly captivated him.

Though he’s known for his tough, edgy persona, Eminem couldn’t help but soften when he spoke about her. Y/N was different from anyone he’d encountered in the industry. Her presence was refreshing, a mix of talent and kindness that seemed to come naturally to her. He’d been following her rise to fame, noticing the way her fans adored her and the way her music connected with people. Eminem couldn’t deny it—he was crushing on her, and the thought of a collaboration had even crossed his mind more than once. Little did he know, his candid words in the interview would spark rumors and excitement among fans who couldn’t wait to see what might happen between the rapper and the rising pop star.

When you found out about what Eminem had said about you during the interview, you were completely taken aback. At first, it didn’t seem real—it was hard to process that someone as big as him would openly talk about you like that. The words played over and over in your head: “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music.”

You were shocked, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through you. It was flattering, sure, but also a little overwhelming. You’d always admired Eminem’s music, his talent, and his larger-than-life persona, but the idea that he had noticed you, let alone had a genuine crush, sent your heart racing.

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered. His words were unexpected, and the attention was something you weren’t quite used to, especially coming from a major artist like him. You thought about it all day, the weight of his comment sinking in. Was he just being polite, or was there something more behind his words? Either way, it definitely left you with more questions than answers.

A week later, you received a message from none other than Eminem himself. He reached out to ask if you’d be interested in collaborating on a song. The moment you read his message, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't believe it—Eminem, the legendary rapper you had admired for so long, was asking to work with you.

Without hesitation, you excitedly agreed. You had no doubts, no second thoughts. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and the idea of working with him, especially after everything that had happened with the interview, sent a rush of excitement through you.

You immediately replied, expressing how thrilled you were at the prospect of collaborating with him. The thought of creating something together felt surreal, and you couldn’t wait to dive into the creative process. You knew this was going to be huge—not just for your career, but for you personally.

Our teams met to discuss the creative direction of the collaboration, and the conversation quickly took an intriguing turn. They proposed making the song sensual and centered around the complexities of a relationship—intense, passionate, and unapologetically raw. As they laid out the concept, I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks. I couldn’t help but blush at the idea.

The thought of creating something so intimate, especially with him, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. It would be a bold step, a departure from anything I’d done before, and the prospect of exploring that kind of connection through music was electrifying. I glanced over at him as the conversation unfolded, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed—confident, even—his expression suggesting he was more than ready to dive into the challenge.

After finishing the recording sessions for the song, the next step was to film the highly-anticipated music video. The energy on set was electric, a mix of excitement and nerves hanging in the air. You sat in front of the mirror, makeup artists diligently working to perfect your look. Brushes moved with precision, adding the final touches of shimmer to your eyes and gloss to your lips. The anticipation built with every passing second, and you could feel your heart pounding just a bit faster.

You adjusted the robe draped around you, its fabric soft against your skin. Beneath it, you wore delicate, lacy black lingerie chosen specifically for the shoot—a bold move, but one that fit the sensual vibe of the song. It felt both empowering and a little nerve-wracking to know what was coming next.

One of the makeup artists stepped back, admiring her work. “You look stunning,” she said with a smile, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” you replied, managing a small smile in return. “I just hope I don’t trip over this robe or something,” you joked, trying to shake off the nerves.

The door to the dressing room opened, and he walked in. Eminem, in all his calm, cool confidence, took a quick glance around before his eyes landed on you. There was a spark of something in his gaze—approval, maybe even a hint of surprise. “You ready for this?” he asked, a playful edge to his voice.

You nodded, tightening the belt of the robe instinctively. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear. “It’s gonna be fire. Just do your thing.”

His words sent a jolt of confidence through you. “You too,” you replied, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before he turned and walked out. The weight of the moment sank in. This video was going to be unforgettable, and you were ready to give it everything you had.

You took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror, taking one last glance at yourself in the lingerie before slowly sliding the robe off your shoulders. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but the heat of anticipation made you feel warm all over. With one final look at your reflection, you stepped toward the door, ready to face what was ahead.

As you opened the door and stepped out, you found Marshall already waiting for you. He was sitting on the bed, his shirt off, his toned chest and arms on full display. His tattoos, which you had noticed before but never fully admired, seemed to tell stories with their intricate designs, each one adding to his raw, unapologetic energy. The way the tattoos stretched over his muscles caught your attention for a moment, and you couldn't help but admire the way he looked.

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable at first, but as his eyes traveled over you, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You look incredible,” he said, his voice low and almost hushed.

You smiled, sitting down beside him on the soft bed, the sheets rustling under you as you settled into place. The room was charged with an electric tension, and the crew started setting up the cameras, ensuring everything was in place for the shoot. The anticipation in the room grew as you waited, a sense of nervous excitement bubbling up inside you.

Once everything was ready, the cameras began rolling. Without missing a beat, Marshall started rapping, his words flowing effortlessly as he moved closer to you. He didn’t need a microphone—the raw power of his voice was enough to fill the room, his lyrics sharp and intense. As he rapped, he reached out and pulled you closer, his hands confidently guiding your exposed body toward him. The camera captured every movement, every kiss, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His hands roamed, tracing the curves of your body as if the song was meant for this exact moment.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the heat rise between you. His lips moved with yours in perfect sync as the music played on, his touch both tender and commanding. His body pressed against yours, his rhythm matching the intensity of the song, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the moment. The cameras captured it all—every kiss, every touch, every second of undeniable chemistry.

The atmosphere in the room was palpable, the energy of the shoot merging with the passion of the music. As Marshall continued rapping, you couldn’t help but be swept up in the power of the moment, your body responding to his, and the song taking on a life of its own.

His hands moved lower, tracing the line of your body as the music echoed through the room. The entire world outside the set seemed to fade away as you both got lost in the moment, the only thing that mattered being the connection between you and the music.

You brung your soft manicured hands up to your soft breasts engulfed by a lacy bra and squeezed them to appear more sexier to the camera as Marshall flipped off the camera.

This would most definitely be the thumbnail for the video.

The director called "cut," signaling the end of the scene. You and Marshall both took a step back, the intensity of the moment slowly dissipating as the crew moved in to adjust equipment and set up for the next shot. You exchanged a quiet smile before heading to your designated room to relax for a bit.

After a few hours, you wrapped up your recording, feeling a mix of accomplishment and exhaustion. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in your veins, but now you were looking forward to some downtime. You changed out of your wardrobe, slipping into something more comfortable, and made your way outside to your car.

Just as you reached the door of your vehicle, you heard someone call your name from behind. You turned to see Marshall walking toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Hey," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, I was wondering... would you want to grab a drink sometime? Maybe go out... on a date?"

The question caught you off guard, but in the best possible way. His voice had a casual tone, but you could sense there was something genuine beneath it. You paused for a moment, taking in the sincerity of his expression, then smiled back at him.

"A date, huh?" you replied, teasing him slightly. "Are you asking me out, Marshall Mathers?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, we’ve spent all this time together on set, and I think you're pretty cool. It’d be nice to get to know you outside of all this craziness."

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth of his words settling comfortably in your chest. It felt like a simple question, but in that moment, it carried a weight that made everything feel real.

"Alright," you said with a smile, feeling the excitement rise in your chest. "I’d like that."

Marshall grinned, clearly pleased with your answer. "Great," he said. "I’ll text you the details. We’ll figure something out."

As you got into your car, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Something had shifted between you two, and this date felt like the beginning of something new—something that, at the very least, would be interesting to explore.

When the music video dropped, it immediately sent shockwaves through the entertainment world. The buzz was undeniable, and the media couldn't get enough of it. News outlets were abuzz with headlines discussing the video, focusing on the undeniable chemistry between you and Marshall. The press quickly latched onto the idea that there was more than just a professional collaboration between the two of you. Everyone seemed to think that what they saw on screen was more than just a performance.

Magazines, tabloids, and news articles were all over the story. Some claimed the chemistry between you two was off the charts, while others speculated about a potential romance, pointing to the way your bodies intertwined during the video and the flirtatious energy that seemed to linger between every take. The media was fascinated, and the public couldn't stop talking about it. Fans and critics alike were all over the speculation, analyzing every glance, every touch, and every word exchanged between you both on screen.

Interviews with both you and Marshall quickly followed. Journalists from all over lined up to ask about the video, the song, and, of course, the undeniable tension between the two of you. Everyone wanted to know if it was real—if what they saw in the video was an accurate reflection of what was going on behind the scenes. And while you both kept things light and playful, the questions kept coming, making it nearly impossible to escape the growing rumors.

The attention, both positive and negative, was overwhelming. The video had clearly left a mark, one that many believed was the beginning of something far deeper than just a professional relationship. Whether you were together or not, the world seemed to be entranced by the idea of the two of you.

And of course we decided to keep the people guessing <3

[lucky-clover-gazette]

Arceus Forbid Women Do Anything

Chapter 2/3 | 7,558 words | Rated T

Commandment II: Gatekeep

The self-indulgent Volo Wins AU fic has turned into non-diagetic game mechanics timeloop existential struggle with failure fic. Who's surprised

When the champion watched him during their battles, she often tried to imagine him in a different state of mind. She analyzed what she understood of his plans, was reluctantly impressed by his enduring commitment to his own aspirations. She got the best impression she could of the real Volo, a friend and a stranger and her only companion in this endless cycle of failure. She never spoke to him. The idea of conversation felt wrong, as if disturbing a scripted play or painting over a work of art. And besides, even if she managed to change the narrative through speech, her inevitable failure would render the results meaningless. She would, always, try again. Until she won, she would try again. As she approached the Temple of Sinnoh once again, the champion thought that she might be going insane. It made no sense, that she had not yet used her knowledge and practice to end this cycle. But every time she had the chance, she just… couldn’t. She would lose, retreat to the cave, call Arceus, and receive the same answer each time. Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

Read the full chapter on AO3 or under the cut:

BEFORE

The Champion of Hisui knew that something was wrong when she reached the temple’s remains.

Volo had been acting more strangely than usual in the past few weeks, as their search for the plates of Arceus drew closer to its end. Restless, lapsing into bouts of discomforting behavior that she’d struggled to explain. She’d always known there was something ironic about his friendly mercantile persona, and appreciated his genuine nature whenever it showed. Having worked retail herself in the previous world, she could never blame Volo for avoiding his job at the Ginkgo Guild, exploring ruins and attaching himself to her adventures instead. With time she had come to genuinely enjoy his company, smiling despite herself whenever he emerged to congratulate her for quelling yet another frenzied noble. And after her banishment, when he’d been the only person to truly care for her, she hadn’t hesitated to accept his comfort.

She didn’t know what exactly to call their relationship now, in the wake of her victory against Palkia and Dialga. By all intents and purposes, it felt like they were a partnership—officially as seekers of the plates of Arceus, but also as friends. He was the closest companion she had found in this world, and she’d grown to trust him near-implicitly. Volo had put himself at risk on her behalf far too many times for her to doubt his intentions now.

But, still. He was being weird. His lecture about Giratina had been pretty normal (for Volo), but the deranged laughter interrupting it? Definitely harder to explain—even for the champion, who usually delighted in Volo’s bizarre behaviors.

Of course, part of that was due to Volo himself, who was easily one of the most attractive people she had ever met. If someone else did half of the weird shit he did, she was pretty sure she’d find it annoying or even creepy. But with Volo, it was endearing. Not just because he was beautiful, or because he had a pleasant voice, or because he held himself with exceptional confidence. She was endeared because he was brilliant, and passionate about his interests, and clever in his humor, and so very sweet towards his pokémon. And he was hot.

She sometimes wondered if he felt the same way about her. But he was so focused on his studies, on the plates of Arceus, that she assumed that any kind of latent attraction would not be made a priority. Occasionally she felt the urge to just straight-up ask ‘what are we?’, but that seemed far too modern an approach. And besides, did she even want her relationship with Volo to be physical, or even explicitly romantic, outside the realm of fantasy?

She didn’t know if she could stand to lose his friendship. Volo, more than anyone else in Hisui, felt real. He was more than a sycophant, a worshiper, someone who idolized her unquestioningly for her gifts. He’d praised her successes, of course, but she’d never been ignorant to the double meanings in his words, the slight contempt of someone who wished for a life they could not have. A life she did have, thanks to the Almighty Arceus plucking her from her original time and place.

From others, praise felt shallow and meaningless. She’d saved them from misfortune, and they’d thanked her because they could continue living as they always had. But from the lonely and mysterious Volo, praise felt meaningful and true. Through his resentment he saw the many facets of her—she was not a flawless hero—and as a result, hadn’t rejected her when she appeared to have failed. He hadn’t abandoned her after she’d saved the region, either, once she’d served her great purpose. And while he was absolutely using her to find the plates, she knew that she was using him too. And that, somehow, was a greater comfort than any other connection she’d forged in this unfamiliar world.

Of course, things weren’t entirely cynical between them. Volo had shown the champion genuine moments of support, even when it had served him no purpose to do so. He’d comforted her during her banishment, blaming the people of Jubilife for their cruelty rather than telling her what she could have done differently to appease them. He had never once encouraged her to apologize. He’d given her a safe haven with Cogita and dedicated himself to assisting her with the Red Chain. All the while, he’d shown no shame about his continued association with the traitor who supposedly doomed them all.

Arceus, meanwhile, had transported its champion to Hisui with only a smartphone as a tether, offering little support beyond a mission and a vague promise upon its completion. At least when Volo was negging her, he did it to her face. With effort. While being hot about it. When he’d asked the champion for her help with the plates, taking her away from the village so they could travel the world together, it had been a no-brainer to say yes. She didn’t even really know what the plates did—just that Volo cared about finding them, and so she did too.

But, still. Something felt wrong. Something had felt wrong, ever since their last conversation with Cogita. Volo was lying to her, and after everything they’d been through she had no idea why he would. She already knew that he was more misanthropic than he acted and negligent in his merchant duties, which were the things he seemed most invested in concealing. He obviously had secrets—she knew very little of his past, for example—but those missing truths had never threatened the dynamic they’d created together. This truth, whatever it was, just felt wrong. She would not be able to proceed until it was revealed.

The champion took a deep breath, more nervous about this confrontation than any that had come before, and entered the temple ruins.

─────────────────

NOW

The challenger returned to Mount Coronet for what would surely be their final attempt at victory.

They only knew what Arceus had told them: they’d returned countless times throughout their life to battle the Champion of Hisui, and each time they had lost. Lost the battle and their memory, returning to the wilds to train the pokémon they wielded. They knew that they were nearing the end of their life, and soon enough would not be able to ascend Mount Coronet at all—yet the voice of Arceus still urged them forwards, and so they climbed.

They understood now that the Champion of Hisui was a faithless traitor, who they would need to defeat in order to earn an audience with the detested false Lord. In their younger years Arceus had not provided this information, simply requesting that she be dispatched. After several losses, though, Arceus had eventually disclosed the entire truth. Ever since that disclosure, the challenger’s mood approaching Spear Pillar was always the same: overwhelming anger towards the fallen hero who had enabled the old world’s destruction.

The challenger reached the temple again.

“Welcome back,” greeted the Champion of Hisui, motioning to a bench at the edge of Spear Pillar. “Please, take a seat.”

─────────────────

BEFORE

She thought it was rather dramatic, the way he stood at the edge of the ruins. The sky around them was vast and pink, dotted by Hisui’s seemingly eternal clouds as the sun slowly set. Volo did not face the champion and the feeling of wrongness only increased.

“The temple lies in ruins now,” said Volo, still refusing to turn around. His voice was light, distant, a kind of detached calm that she had rarely heard from the passionate researcher. “Columns cracked and broken... like pillars now turned into spears, stabbing into the heavens.”

The champion raised an eyebrow, stopping just before the stairs leading up to the viewing platform. But she said nothing.

Volo turned around then, wearing his winning merchant’s smile. “Well,” he sighed, “I detect a distinct lack of Giratina.”

The champion couldn’t help but smirk at that. It had always amused her, the way he acted like life was a comedy of errors and they had no choice but to play along. The way he’d spoken in the Celestica Ruins had been different, though—he’d been dead-serious about his own suffering and the suffering of others, deranged laughter aside.

And here was that humor again. It should have been a comforting return to form. But this time, the champion could not shake the chilling feeling that Volo was in on the joke.

“Hm?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand. His tone was unmistakably condescending. He hadn’t spoken to her like that in months, not since they’d grown to understand each other as more than merchant and hero. “Is something bothering you?”

The champion nodded stiffly. For all of her trust and confidence in their friendship, she couldn’t help but wonder—

“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” said Volo, having traded his smile for a chillingly neutral expression. “I suppose I must seem to be behaving strangely!”

He didn’t sound like himself. He put a hand on his hip.

“I daresay you deserve to know what I’m really after by now,” he told the champion, and her heart sunk.

She found herself stepping backwards, filled with incomprehensible dread. It didn’t matter what it was, it only mattered that she hadn’t possessed the sense to avoid this situation altogether. And now she had no choice but to accept that she was wrong about the only person in this world who’d ever felt right.

Volo chuckled darkly, his one visible eye noticeably changed. He looked… manic, was the only word for it. She’d seen hints of this before, but had chalked it up to passion. It had even been sweet, in small doses. But this was concerning. She wanted to reach out to him, and she wanted to leave this place before she learned exactly how foolish she had been.

The conflict left her rooted where she stood. The conflict, and the fear.

He seemed to sense that fear, his expression shifting back to an easy smile. He spoke clearly, thoughtfully, just as he had during countless discussions of history and ruins and oh, Arceus, this man might actually be insane.

“Ever since I became convinced that Arceus really does exist,” said Volo, “there has been one question that consumed my thoughts: How can I meet such a being myself?”

The champion struggled to understand the implications of his words. All things considered, that was a perfectly normal Volo thing to say, so why did everything feel so—

"It was in an attempt to answer this question that I originally sought out Giratina and had it tear open that rift in space and time,” Volo told the champion. “After all, Giratina wished to stand against Arceus.”

She blinked.

He…

He’d brought her here.

She was here, because of him.

And when she’d been banished…

“But that didn't do the trick,” Volo continued, still smiling. “So then I had you gather the fragments of the all-encompassing deity, just as the murals of the ruins directed.”

He had her.

He’d had her.

Volo closed his eyes and lifted his head to the heavens, eerily peaceful in his confession. “Eighteen plates said to be the fragments of the all-encompassing deity. You hold in your hands seventeen of them. So, you must be wondering: Where is the last one?“

He opened his eyes and removed something from his apron. A purple plate, shaped exactly like the others. “Why, it’s right here!”

That was not a customer service smile, it was a smirk. She’d seen it last when he’d playfully challenged her to battle, but nothing was playful about this challenge.

The champion stood, slack-jawed, as Volo reached for the shoulder of his Ginkgo Guild uniform. In one smooth motion he removed the jumpsuit and his hat, revealing…

Oh, he was definitely insane.

"Now hand over the plates you gathered!” Volo commanded, dressed in the most bizarre outfit the champion had ever seen in her life. He wore a chiton-shirt with a cold shoulder, a pendant with a teardrop-shaped stone, gladiator sandals, and green capri pants. Had he assembled this look in the dark?

And the hair. He had done something with his hair. His beautiful hair that the champion had always longed to see at its full length, gelled up in a deranged imitation of God itself.

It was too much. All of this was too much.

Volo’s gaze burned into her, his visible pupil having grown noticeably smaller. “I will be the one to bring them all together!"

The champion gripped the strap of her satchel. How dare he make commands, when he was the reason Arceus had brought her here? He should be begging for her forgiveness!

Volo was ranting now, seemingly to himself more than the person he’d just betrayed. "My desire to meet Arceus cannot be contained any longer! I need to know what it is! I must know what it is!"

When the champion was banished for Volo’s actions, he had comforted her. He had cared for her. Why would he have done that? Why would he have done any of this?

He stopped smiling. He spoke to her now, although part of her wished he wouldn’t. "If I can meet Arceus myself, then I may also be able to subjugate its power. And using that, I will attempt to create a new, better world!"

His words at the Celestica Ruins echoed through the champion’s head:

Ever since I was young, whenever I met with something painful or heartbreaking, I couldn't help but wonder why life was so unfair. Why I was cursed to live through such things. Of course, I imagine we all go through something like that.

The champion was pretty sure she was currently going through something like that.

“Of course,” Volo continued, “if I create a brand-new world, then the Hisui region that we currently exist in will be undone and returned to nothing. You, everyone you know, and all the Pokémon living here will vanish in an instant, as if you'd never been."

He’d brought her to this world, and now he wanted to destroy it.

Destroy her.

The champion wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound at Volo’s chest and demand that he admit that their connection was real, that she wasn’t a fool, that he regretted what he’d done to put her in harm’s way. She wanted him to be cured of this divine madness and come to his senses. She wanted him to be the person she’d grown to love—because of course she’d grown to love him, of all the people in this stupid world, instead of someone normal and unremarkable and disinterested in becoming a god.

Because that was what Volo wanted, right? To become a god? To subjugate God, and take its place?

And then he would destroy everything. This entire reality, gone. The people and pokémon within it, gone. Her, gone.

Did he really care for her so little, that he would erase her along with the rest of them?

And how deranged was she, to be more upset by the loss of his friendship than the loss of everything and everyone else?

Volo crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the champion as if he saw right through her. As if she wasn’t a person at all, but an obstacle in his way. The final barrier between him and Arceus, between his destiny and desires, in which she would have no part to play.

She would have given him the damn plates, if he had just apologized and explained. After all, it had been Arceus—not Volo—to bring her to this godforsaken place.

"If you want to keep this world from disappearing,” challenged Volo, “then face me in battle!”

She would not be giving him the plates. He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve to be God any more than God itself deserved to be God. Arceus and Volo—a deity and its unfashionable imitation. Honestly, in that moment, the champion despised them both.

“Not that you have a choice,” Volo taunted, grinning widely because he was insane. “Even if you don't wish to battle me, I'm not above using force to take those plates from you."

He held up a pokéball and stared down at the champion. With the slightest of nods, she removed her samurott from her satchel.

She had Arceus’s blessing and Volo clearly did not. She was going to defeat him, just as she’d defeated every other enemy in her path. Only once she’d sufficiently humiliated him in front of his god would she allow herself to process everything she’d learned.

Volo tossed out his first pokémon with a knowing smirk, his form surprisingly confident and precise. For all of his intellectual strengths, the champion had never known him to be a particularly skilled trainer.

A spiritomb emerged from his pokéball.

Clearly there were many things the champion did not know about Volo.

─────────────────

NOW

“Please,” the champion repeated, motioning to the bench beneath the heavens. “I really think you should sit down.”

The challenger scowled at her, crossing their arms over their chest. “You know why I’m here.”

She rolled her eyes. The outsider had no memory of meeting her before, but her behaviors felt familiar all the same. “Yes,” the champion sighed, “I know that you’re here to fight me.”

“And then Lord Volo.”

She smirked at that. “Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

Her attitude enraged the challenger. A wicked traitor to the god that had chosen her—unfathomable, really, in her irreverence.

“Seriously,” said the champion, looking the challenger up and down. “Sit down.”

“Why?” the challenger said, suspecting a trap.

“You look exhausted from your climb.”

She was uncomfortably earnest in her explanation. And she was correct.

“How old are you now, anyway?” the champion asked as the challenger sat. To their surprise, she sat down beside them immediately.

“Old enough to finally defeat you,” said the challenger, avoiding her searching gaze.

She chuckled. “Fair enough.” And then, thoughtfully: “It’s been quite some time since we last met. I was beginning to wonder if Arceus had decided against sending a senior citizen in its stead.”

The challenger, naturally, took offense at the insult. “How old are you, then? I assume that your lack of humanity implies a lack of mortality as well.”

She nodded with a face that appeared far too young for the person wearing it. “I do not age conventionally, that is true.”

“Can you die at all?”

“Not by natural means,” the champion said. “Although I suppose I am still flesh and blood, just like you. But you are old and frail, while my youth has been preserved. Your remaining time in this world is incredibly limited, and yet you’ve come here again—do you not have other things to do? Interests, passions? Family? Does your entire life revolve around your mission from God?”

“Does your life not revolve around your Lord?” the challenger deflected. “According to Arceus, you chose him over the entire world.”

“In a manner of speaking, I did,” admitted the champion. “Though I don’t expect Arceus to ever fully understand my decision.”

“Decision? You lost.”

Something flashed behind the champion’s eyes. It felt good to drag her down from the heavens.

“It was once said,” she told the challenger through gritted teeth, “that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results.”

It was an odd response. The challenger did not care to understand its purpose. They were indeed old and frail, and this was their final chance.

“Today,” they told the champion, “I will win.”

“Very well,” the champion said, withdrawing an ancient-looking pokéball from her fine silks. She stood up and offered her challenger a hand. They glared at it. The champion sighed, withdrew her hand, and watched as the challenger struggled to their feet.

─────────────────

BEFORE

Her final pokémon was on low health when she finally defeated Volo’s Togekiss. She had refused to speak a word during the fight, despite his taunting smiles and various confident poses. In addition to being insane, Volo was apparently also an incredibly skilled trainer. Not quite as skilled as the champion, though, as his final and most beloved pokémon returned to her ball.

Volo shook his head, still wearing that deranged smile, as he returned the pokéball to some unseen pocket in his ridiculous Arceus outfit. The champion sighed with relief, grateful that this would be over soon. He’d abandon the temple in defeat, and she would mourn his betrayal in peace. Short of physically attacking her, he had no other way to take the plates by force—and she still could not believe that Volo was capable of such brutality, when his entire goal was to create a better, fairer world.

(Honestly, if he hadn’t hurt her so profoundly in the process of achieving that goal, she thought she might admire him for his idealism.)

She shook her head. He was a hypocrite and out of his right mind. The last thing he deserved was admiration, or even an attempt at understanding. She would return to the village and forget all about him, and try her best to find someone else in this world who made sense. Maybe if Arceus saw her success, it would even return her to her world. Defeating Volo had been her ultimate mission, right?

Which…

If Arceus had sent her to correct Volo’s disturbance of the natural order, it had always known about Volo’s hidden intentions. This entire time, it had watched its chosen champion find comfort in her destined enemy, without so much as a word of caution.

It must have been intentional, then, for Arceus to keep her in the dark. But why?

“Why?” Volo demanded, now despondent in his defeat. “Why you?! Why do you have the blessing of Arceus?”

She didn’t know. He knew that she didn’t know.

“I’ve devoted myself to Arceus beyond any other!” Volo ranted, seemingly towards the heavens themselves. “I worshiped it as the creator of our entire world! I bent all of my passion and interest and study! All the time I’ve spent poring over the legends.. Everything that I’ve done—!”

The champion had served Arceus’s mission dutifully since her arrival in Hisui. Although reluctant at times, she had quelled the nobles and assembled the Red Chain. She had immediately opposed Volo, who sought to destroy the world Arceus created. This mission was her entire life—her job, her hobby, her singular purpose upon being transported to Hisui without her consent.

“You outsider!” Volo hissed, now glaring directly at the champion. “It’s almost as if you were spat out of the space-time rift just to get in my way!”

She felt a lump rise in her throat.

Volo had been the one thing, here, that she’d chosen for herself. To her, their friendship had been disconnected from her holy mission or crushing responsibilities—in fact, it had been a much-needed relief.

But the entire time, he had only viewed her as Arceus’s chosen hero. And he despised her for it.

Silent tears ran down the champion’s cheeks. He seemed not to notice, or not to care.

“No,” Volo told himself, “no, this isn’t finished yet.”

Please, she almost begged, but didn’t. She didn’t know how much more of this she could stand. But she couldn’t leave, either, not when he still posed a threat, not when she deserved answers but couldn’t yet bring herself to ask—

Volo grinned again, his derangement reaching its apparent peak. “Can’t you feel it? The chill creeping through your veins—the eldritch presence icing your heart?”

She felt something, as dark shadows began to appear behind Volo. A massive void, from which a large creature began to emerge. It screeched as Volo began to laugh, its wings unfolding and its body taking material form. The champion recognized Giratina at once, well-primed by Volo’s lecture in the Celestica Ruins.

Volo regarded her in the throes of his mania, unwilling and unable to recognize her as anything but his enemy. Perhaps that was too charitable an interpretation, but—

“GIRATINA!” Volo shouted, clenching his hands as if they already held the plates of Arceus. “STRIKE HER DOWN!”

He laughed again, his eyes wide and his body hunched, as Giratina roared.

The champion released her final available pokémon, which only possessed a quarter of its health. She then turned on her heel, summoned Wyrdeer, and headed for the temple exit, using the ill-fated battle as a brief distraction. She ignored the sound of her fainting pokémon and Volo’s confused yelling as she pulled her Arcphone from her satchel and held it to her ear.

“You have to stop him,” the champion demanded as she entered the passageway beneath the peak of Mount Coronet. The cave was cool and blessedly quiet, and she only stopped moving when she received her response.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

─────────────────

NOW

As always, the challenger had put up a very good fight.

“Will this be the last time I see you?” the champion asked, almost bored in her victory. The challenger just glared at her, returning their fainted pokémon to their pocket.

“One can hope,” they said, and revealed their knife. If repetition with the expectation of different result was insanity, then they were no longer insane. Because this approach, this last-ditch effort, was entirely unprecedented—even to Arceus itself.

Using their last reserves of energy and strength, the challenger seized the woman. Short of stature and physically softened by ages of casual godhood, she could show little resistance to even the oldest of heroes. And, of course, there was the matter of the blade held to her throat.

“He will lower himself from the heavens and face me,” the challenger said between gritted teeth. The champion swallowed.

“Arceus has driven you to this,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Lord Volo has driven me to this. Arceus has only ever encouraged me to be better.”

“Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.”

The challenger’s eyed widened. “How do you…?”

The champion sighed. “I heard it too. Every single time.” She was infuriatingly unfazed by the threat to her life. “How relieving it must be,” she said, “to lose the memory of each of your losses.”

“I find it rather inconvenient, actually,” shot back the challenger, holding the blade closer to her throat.

The champion smiled sadly and shook her head.

─────────────────

BEFORE

Eventually, she found herself trying to lose.

The fight with Volo had become like second nature to the champion, who since her first attempt had assembled the ideal team to counter his specific pokémon and fighting habits. Arceus knew she had been given enough attempts to observe him, some of which ended before Giratina even appeared. Volo was undeniably skilled, and dedicated to his own victory in a way that consistently astounded the champion. But while each new battle seemed to be Volo’s first, his memory struck of previous victories and defeats, the champion remembered everything.

At this point, she knew Volo almost entirely as the man she’d truly met atop Mount Coronet. Memories of their previous friendship lingered in small instances, but she had lost much of her attachment to his formerly comforting presence. This made it easier for her, as Arceus’s champion, to study and practice and try again and again and again.

She was confident, now, that she could defeat him. Him and Giratina, and then she would finally witness the world after such events transpired. Would he give up immediately, or try to harm her further? Would they finally speak as their true selves, or would he just disappear? If he did disappear, would he be gone forever?

The champion was still far from completing the the Pokédex and meeting Arceus, who only potentially could send her home. In the meantime, she would still be stuck in Hisui, alone. Almost certainly without him.

The outfit was not… irredeemably ill-conceived. With some modifications, she could understand the vision. And it would be easy for Volo to take down the Arceus style, allowing his hair to flow naturally. When the champion watched him during their battles, she often tried to imagine him in a different state of mind. She analyzed what she understood of his plans, was reluctantly impressed by his enduring commitment to his own aspirations. She got the best impression she could of the real Volo, a friend and a stranger and her only companion in this endless cycle of failure.

She never spoke to him. The idea of conversation felt wrong, as if disturbing a scripted play or painting over a work of art. And besides, even if she managed to change the narrative through speech, her inevitable failure would render the results meaningless. She would, always, try again. Until she won, she would try again.

As she approach the Temple of Sinnoh once again, the champion thought that she might be going insane. It made no sense, that she had not yet used her knowledge and practice to end this cycle. But every time she had the chance, she just… couldn’t. She would lose, retreat to the cave, call Arceus, and receive the same answer each time.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

There had been a few close calls, where she’d almost won. Especially against Giratina, she often stood a very good chance. But then she would remind herself that this was not fair in the slightest, because she had been given infinite chances to practice and strategize. Yes, Volo had technically cheated as well, but abusing Arceus’s blessing in such a manner simply felt cheap.

That was what she told herself. Eventually, someday, she would see an opportunity for victory that she could truly call fair, and she would take it. But until then, she would just have to lose.

And he would still be here. Insane, but here.

Insane.

She was going insane.

“I think I’m going insane,” she told Arceus after yet another loss.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“I know I’m going insane.”

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“Why don’t you try, for once?” the champion challenged, gripping the phone tightly.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

And then, she thought it. For the first time in what felt like an eternity of repetition, she finally thought something new:

“Why can’t I lose?” the champion asked, her voice shaking as tears ran down her cheeks. She did not understand what she was asking, exactly—she could not lose because Arceus had blessed her, that much was already obvious. The world, this world, worked in her favor in some unearned and unwanted way. Yes, she could retreat from the mountain at any time to train her team, but that still left Volo up in the temple, nearly indistinguishable from the person she had grown to love. He would not follow her, would not attempt to seize the plates by any other means, seemingly frozen in time and place by divine circumstance. She would never have her former friend back, and if she moved forward, Arceus would never allow her to befriend him as he was now.

And she—

She would just keep going, in Volo’s absence. If not this battle, she would be fighting another. Again and again and again, until Arceus deemed her worthy. Arceus, who had lied to her, manipulated her, taken her from her home without her knowledge or consent. Who had created this world and its mysterious mechanics, blessing—no, cursing—her to endure.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

God’s champion hung up the phone.

─────────────────

NOW

Much to the challenger’s surprise, Lord Volo had not immediately arrived to save his champion.

“He can see this, right?” they demanded, as their arms grew increasingly tired around her.

She scoffed. “Of course he can.”

“So why isn’t he coming? Perhaps he cares less for you than you believed.”

The champion met the challenger’s gaze. “He knows that you would never actually murder me. That is not becoming of the world he designed.”

The challenger narrowed their eyes. This had always been a possibility. “Fine,” they said. “But would your Lord stand by while you are in pain?”

For the first time, the champion looked afraid. “I—”

The challenger plunged their knife into her fine white silks.

─────────────────

BEFORE

The champion surrendered.

It was not a victory, nor was it any sort of defeat she had experienced before. Instead of intentionally losing the fight, she had refused to even allow its commencement. She had approached Volo where he stood, suspended in space and time, and offered him her satchel containing the plates of Arceus.

He stared at it, pupils shrunken and hungry. A smile crept onto his face. “How precious,” he said, almost tenderly. “You only needed a moment to think, before deciding to see things my way.”

The champion scowled. To him, it had been only a moment.

“You’re insane,” she said, showing no resistance when he began to take the satchel from her. He paused, though, upon hearing her first words towards his true self.

“Did you not listen in the ruins?” he asked, slight irritability piercing through his mania. “My reasoning is entirely rational. If God did not want to run the risk of its power falling into our hands, it should not have created its plates on our mortal plane. It is my right to seize them, and use that power to create a better world.”

“You could make this world a better place.”

Volo shook his head, smiling sadly. “Can’t be done. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“You made it better for me.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She was so, so tired.

Volo narrowed his eyes, pupils still tiny but slightly more focused. “Whatever could you mean by that, hero?”

“You know my name,” said the champion, cursing her voice for cracking at the last word.

Volo looked properly confused, now. Especially as the champion began to shake. “What are you—”

“Just take it,” the champion said, feeling that lump in her throat again. She had felt so strong, when she’d hung up the ArcPhone in the cave. Self-assured, energized by the notion of ending this vicious cycle. It had seemed, if only for a moment, that she had found a way to truly win.

This did not feel like winning.

“Just fucking take it,” the champion repeated, shoving the satchel towards Volo. He did without further comment, but did not immediately dig inside. He only watched her, still far from sane but seemingly calmer at least.

Volo furrowed his brow. “You said I made the world better, for you. But I was using you. I am the reason for your existence here. You should hate me.”

The champion shook her head as a tear ran down her cheek. “I don’t hate you.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

She winced.

Volo studied her carefully. “What,” he said, “do you think your god would say of this?”

The champion shut her eyes. “Arceus doesn’t care about me.”

“Of course it does. It has chosen you to receive its blessings. It loves you, as it will never love—” Volo cut himself off, though of course she understood how the sentence would have ended.

The champion felt pathetic as she met his eyes. “I love you.”

He blinked. “How?”

“I just do.”

Volo began to pace, shifting into a paranoid state. “A trick from Arceus,” he muttered to himself, clutching the satchel close to his chest. “A test? No, a safeguard—a temptation…”

A temptation?

“This is all by design,” Volo continued to ramble, “If I allow for this endearment, for this enduring desire—”

Enduring desire?

“I must be strong. There must be a better world. I must not allow myself to—”

“Was any of it real?” the champion asked, point-blank.

“Yes,” Volo said at once.

“Which parts were fake?”

“The parts that mattered.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. Volo sighed.

“The parts vital to my mission,” he clarified, “were false. The merchant charade, the search for the plates.”

“And that’s what mattered?”

Volo avoided her eyes. “Nothing else can matter in this world,” he told the champion. “Nothing else will remain.”

He looked haggard, as if this was a truth he’d refused to admit to himself before having it forced from his lips.

“It has never been my intention to carry over unwilling parties,” Volo reluctantly explained. “Involuntary acquiescence has no place in my better world.”

“What about lying and manipulation?” the champion asked. “And erasing everyone and everything that came before it?”

Exhausted, Volo gave his response: “I said ‘better.’ Not perfect.”

After a moment, the champion replied. “It mattered,” she said quietly. “To me.”

“Your mission?”

“Us.”

Volo regarded her as if for the very first time. “Us.”

She stepped forward slightly, reaching for his hand. He allowed her to take it, using the other to clutch her satchel.

“Do you want them to remain, in your new world?” the champion asked, looking into Volo’s wide exposed eye. “The parts that were real?”

He gave the slightest of nods.

She could not have him in this world. She could either continue this endless loop of suffering, or defeat him and likely never see him again. And it wasn’t just Volo who mattered, but the champion herself—with Arceus as her god, she knew that she would never truly be free.

“Is this the right decision?” she asked Volo, squeezing his hand tightly. He gently leaned down to place her satchel on the temple floor, then used his other hand to stroke her face.

“Must there always be a right decision and a wrong decision?”

“I should be ashamed.”

“I disagree.”

“What if I’m insane?”

“I would say that you are just as sane as I am,” Volo reasoned, “if you wish to remain by my side.”

The champion frowned. “That is not a reassuring statement.”

“It is all I can offer,” Volo said, holding her hand to his heart. Then, with a small smile: “That, and—”

He kissed her on the lips. When he pulled back, his eyes were almost back to normal.

“So?” Volo asked, eager and curious just as the champion had remembered him. Her heart ached with the comfort of familiarity—lost in the cycle of repetition, she hadn’t even realized how much she missed her former friend.

“It’s not perfect,” she said, “but it’s better.” She allowed herself to finally relax as Volo held her close.

Keeping one arm around his champion’s waist, Volo leaned down to retrieve the satchel once again. Despite her divine mission, the champion did not intervene.

“Very good,” Volo praised. His voice was warm and earnest, lacking the condescension one would usually associate with such a statement. “Now, rest. You’ve done more than enough already.”

And with that, at least, the champion could wholeheartedly agree.

─────────────────

NOW

Lord Volo appeared at once.

The challenger stepped away from the champion, their hands shaking as the knife clattered to the temple floor. Violence was a rare occurrence in this world, and murder was almost entirely unheard of—yet here they were, resorting to the former and possibly the latter as a desperate final effort.

“This was my mission,” the challenger prayed to Arceus as a figure descended from a shimmery stairway to the heavens. “Now please, give me strength...”

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“No, I haven’t! I’ve won—look, he’s coming now!”

Lord Volo was a tall man, appearing much as he’d been depicted in historical records and famous works of art: blonde, pale, draped in white silks resembling those of his champion. He reached the bottom stair and stepped onto the world he had created, barely giving the challenger a glance as he walked right by.

Thou hast been defeated in battle, the voice of Arceus said. Thou shalt try again.

But the challenger was not beaten yet.

They reached for the knife, even as their joints ached. Lord Volo disappeared the weapon with a flick of his wrist. He then took his champion in his arms and placed her onto the bench, speaking words that the challenger could not hear.

She seemed to be speaking, as well. Alive. Despite everything, the challenger felt relief at that.

There was a sort of peace, in knowing that this was the challenger’s final try. Their pokémon were fainted, their god had seemingly abandoned them, they had compromised their own values out of desperation after a lifetime of repeated failures. Now, Lord Volo would disappear them just as he had the knife.

At least in oblivion, the challenger would finally be able to rest.

The champion muttered something more to her god, who then turned to face the challenger. He did not look happy, but seemed to be exercising some kind of restraint.

He looked back at the champion, who nodded. Lord Volo sighed.

“Very well,” he said, and flicked his wrist again. The challenger inhaled sharply, and then they

─────────────────

In the heavens, he saw to her healing.

“I’m sorry,” Volo said for what felt like the millionth time, although it would never truly be enough. He held a hand over his champion’s wound, glowing gold with healing light. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” the champion said, kissing the side of his other hand. “The rosiness had begun to return to her skin, her deific attire now clean of the blood that had stained it. “I understood the risks of going down there undisguised.”

“That isn’t supposed to happen, though,” Volo said, trying to mind his temper as he channelled healing towards the champion’s wound. “Violence and murder, they’re not—not a part of our world.”

“Neither is the voice of Arceus,” the champion countered. “But even from within its containment, it still finds a way to haunt its champion.”

She glanced pointedly towards the pokéball on Volo’s hip. He had wielded its power to destroy the old world and create this one anew, to grant himself and his partner endless life and a home in the heavens above. He supposed it made sense that if Arceus’s power still existed in this world, its voice could never truly disappear.

“What will happen now?” Volo asked, shifting slightly against the headboard of their bed. “Will there be another challenger?”

“Probably,” said the champion. “Eventually.”

“But the one who…?

“I think they’re safe. An infant without memory of their past life, reborn free of Arceus’s influence. Of all the people in this world, why would it choose them again?”

Volo frowned, thinking of the recent confrontation. “I wanted to destroy them, for what they did.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” teased the champion, “to make sure you don’t repeat old patterns.”

He smiled fondly, thinking of the many way they’d helped each other create this new world from the ashes of its predecessor. Not only was his champion beautiful, but she was also brilliant—always had been, although he’d been rather slow on the uptake. In Volo’s defense, he’d very much written her off as a loss before her surrender on Mount Coronet. It had been a matter of strategy, to avoid considering her inner life.

“Can I ask you something?” said Volo, watching his champion with endless interest. She nodded. “What changed your mind, in the cave?”

She looked surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“On the day that the old world fell, you initially ran away,” Volo recalled. “Disappeared into the passageway for only a moment, then emerged again to hand over the plates. Why?”

The champion appeared conflicted, which was not the desired outcome of Volo’s questioning. He had his suspicions, based on previous reactions around the subject, that this was not a memory she often wished to revisit.

“I felt defeated,” the champion said, “so I tried something new.”

Volo couldn’t help but think of the challenger, who his champion had always seemed to care for despite the annoyance they caused. Even after their unfathomable act of violence, she had insisted that Volo reincarnate them rather than destroy them entirely.

“Something new?” he asked the champion, as he felt her pain ease beneath his fingertips. “Had there been… something before?”

She nodded. “Over and over again. And I remembered everything.”

A chill ran down Volo’s spine. With this revelation, the champion’s requests to borrow his spiritomb while facing Arceus’s challenger made an entirely new sort of sense.

“You never told me,” he said.

“In a way, I did,” she replied with a soft smile. “When you suggested that we were both insane, I didn’t disagree.”

Still so very cryptic. Volo kissed the champion’s forehead, vowing to someday learn every secret within it.

“And how do you feel now?” he asked as the stab wound faded entirely from her skin. Good as new.

His champion regarded him knowingly, lovingly, shamelessly.

“I feel better.”

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Having noticed the way his expression crinkled (and not just because of the unpleasant topic of her boss), Susannah was quick to grab the salve and some pain pills, quickly passing the latter to Philippe to take with his coffee, while she gently applied the salve-it served as something of a distraction from what he'd just said.

He was right, of course; Mickey was a poor excuse for a boss. He was cheap, rude, abrasive, demanding, temperamental, and just about every other negative adjective you could think of under the sun. He overworked and underpaid his employees; the only time he was ever really pleasant was when a wealthy customer came through their door, upon which he'd turned on the charm in the hopes of getting them to empty their wallets purchasing their wares. Susannah dreaded getting up in the morning, knowing she'd have to see his ugly mug first thing she came through the door.

But what could she do? For all his faults, he was the only one who would hire her, and while his wages weren't anything to write home about, they were enough to get her by. She had a roof over her head, food in her cupboards, a steady job, clothes on her back...she had to count her blessings where she got 'em.

"Ah, he's not so bad," she reassured Philippe, as she gently applied the salve. "He's all bark and no bite, really. I could do a lot worse, as bosses go."

She remembered (bitterly) some of the bosses her father used to work for, real unpleasant fellows...they were harsh, pushy types who only just barely tolerated August Pace, chiefly because he was hard-working and accepted whatever meager pay they tossed his way. He was willing to keep his head down and put up with their demands, so long as they didn't insult his family. Inevitably, they would, and he would not stand for it. Her father got into a lot of fights as a result-seldom physical, fortunately, but the verbal sparring, the insults flung at his beloved deceased wife and his innocent daughter, hurt far more than any punch ever could.

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[manikas-whims]

the fake dating u did was so good, like, ate and left no crumbs?? and i feel like its so spot on?? you did amazing thank you so much for ur writing

could u do a follow up on it?? i need to see the angst and confusion of the reader and the fluff at the end 🥹🥹

have a good day!!

OMG thank you for the shower of compliments 🫶😭

As i said in another ask, i wrote those HCs as a one shot thingy, and i’m still shocked so many wanted a part 2 so here it is!..FINALLY!

with a dash of misunderstandings, a sprinkling of pent-up desires and a spoonful of angst with a happy ending.

APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG WAIT. HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT! ♡

Fake Dating the Love and Deepspace men but you catch feelings pt. 2

new readers make sure to read [PART 1] before you read this..

ZAYNE

❄️ You know you crossed a line when you requested Zayne to kiss you.

❄️ That one kiss led to the start of many more. Now Zayne kisses you whenever he drops you off at work and whenever he comes by to pick you up. And before you can even realize, they've become a part of your normal routine.

❄️ Speaking of kisses, they aren't merely innocent pecks anymore. Now they feel passionate and longer, involve a little tease of the tongue here and there, and always leave you weak in the knees.

❄️ But this controlled manner of feeding off of his generosity is proving to be quite difficult for you. If anything, the kisses have made you greedier. Every time his lips touch you, you hope that it doesn't simply end there. That he doesn't stop. You desire more than you should out of this fake relationship. You desire more than you deserve.

❄️ But before this desire of yours can take over and make you do something you can never take back, you decide to end things with Zayne.

❄️ It's a normal evening in his office. He's sorting through his patients’ files when you call out to him.

❄️ He looks up and patiently awaits whatever it is you have to tell him.

❄️ You feel your lips quiver.

❄️ Zayne may have agreed to be your fake boyfriend because you had practically begged him to but he isn't obligated to give you anything that isn't needed. Him picking and dropping you to and from work, sharing meals together and kissing you in front of others is already so generous of him.

❄️ That is all it should've been. Only you ended up developing real feelings.

❄️ But if you let this farce run any longer, you'll end up mistaking his kindness for genuine affection. You'll end up fooling yourself into thinking its real. Not just for you but him as well. That your feelings are reciprocated.

❄️ Your mouth opens and shuts, as you try to muster the courage before softly murmuring. “I think we should stop.”

❄️ For a moment, he stares at you, unmoving as ice. Then his mouth motions but you don't hear word. You run away.

❄️ Days pass with you ignoring Zayne's calls and texts. You skip work as well in order to avoid him.

❄️ Your doorbell rings one night and you almost jump. Dread instantly begins pooling in your belly. What if it's Zayne?

❄️ With anxious limbs, you answer the door only to find your friend Tara.

❄️ Tara tells you that she was only trying to set you up on dates because she hasn't seen you genuinely whole ever since you lost your family. That she wanted you to have someone who could complete you. But now that she's seen you with Zayne, her worries have faded into thin air. She is happy for you two. She is happy to see you happy after so long.

❄️ Though her words may have been supportive and full of warmth, they only make you feel worse. You end up crying and spilling the truth– the entire truth about the fake dating arrangement.

❄️ To your surprise, Tara is as kind as Zayne and instantly empathizes with you. She understands. And she apologizes for being so forceful in her attempts to look out for you by finding you dates.

❄️ Tara comforts you for a while but before departing, she suggests you come clean to Zayne and confess. She believes that it will all turn out fine in the end.

❄️ Well, its easier for her to say that. You're the one who actually grew up with Zayne. You know he's always been an honest man and how much it will hurt him when he learns that you've been taking advantage of your arrangement to enjoy his affectionate gestures. That after a while, you began deliberately prolonging the kisses in hopes of getting something more..

❄️ You wake up the next morning to incessant knocking at your door, and wonder if it's Tara again, come all this to check up on you.

❄️ Sleepily you answer the door. And the drowsiness dissipates from your eyes the moment you find the familiar tall figure of your childhood friend clad in his tight black shirt and dark trousers.

❄️ Dread seeps into your being once more and you lower your head in shame. If Zayne is here then it can only mean one thing. You knew this was bound to happen. But you are a coward nonetheless, and you can't bear to look at him as he breaks your heart.

❄️ Zayne let's out a breath and speaks. “That evening in my office..I’m sorry if its because of something I did..”

❄️ His apology makes you feel sick. You will not let him take the blame for your own misdeeds.

❄️ “No Zayne, I’m the one who asked for your help. And I didn't even consider the fact that I might catch feelings for you.” You pause to collect your thoughts. “But I know how wrong and stupid I was for it. And that is why I ended things between us. Before I could do something worse and spoil our—”

❄️ You stop abruptly as Zayne pushes the door further open and steps up on the threshold, hovering intimidatingly over you. He tilts his head low and speaks. “The arrangement wasn't just yours. Any decisions related to it should be reached only after proper discussion between the parties involved.”

❄️ His statement takes you by surprise and you finally move your lashes to hesitantly look up at his face. “I didn't think it mattered to you. I thought you were merely being kind and helpful..like always.”

❄️ “On the contrary, I was enjoying our little arrangement. After all,” Zayne inches even closer, his voice an octave lower. “it allowed me to spend more time in the company of the person I yearn for.”

❄️ It isn't his statement but the intensity of his gaze that arouses a tiny flicker of hope within you. “Zayne..you..I thought..I was the only one taking advantage of the situation..”

❄️ He chuckles lightly. “Apparently we both were. It seems our arrangement stopped being fake the moment we kissed.”

❄️ That tiny flicker of hope bursts into a lively flame of desire. “Then, you also wanted it to be real?”

❄️ He gives no verbal response but his lips quirk up into the barest hint of a smile as he nods.

❄️ For a moment, you stare at each other, processing all the words exchanged; the next, Zayne takes off his glasses and and tucks them in his pocket. And your lips find his, like many times this past week. Only now, neither of you stop just there for this isn’t pretense anymore. It's mutual, and it's real.

❄️ His hands slip beneath your shirt, cold fingers leaving a trail of warmth along every inch they touch.

❄️ And he kisses you harder, his tongue prying your lips apart as he pushes you inside the house and shuts the door behind him.

XAVIER

⭐ Things have been going pretty well ever since that “incident” in front of your apartment door. The creepy resident has stopped showing up.

⭐ You can freely enjoy the gym and pool in your apartment complex and everything else without the constant intrusion of that weirdo.

⭐ And although Xavier still goes out for morning laps and evening walks with you, accompanies you for the exercise sessions and even checks up on you at your apartment, he has cut-down on everything else. He is holding your hand a lot less and doesn't slip his arms around your waist as much.

⭐ It’s only fair though. Since the strange man isn't hitting on you anymore, there isn't much need for Xavier to act either.

⭐ You can live with it. Bear with him not engaging in any sort of skinship anymore. But your mind simply cannot forget the way his lips had felt against your own.

⭐ In the loneliness of the moonlit nights, you often find your fingers tracing the same spot his lips had sucked on your neck. You close your eyes and revisit the memory of his lips pressed gently upon yours. The memory of him kissing you a second time but with much more impatience and fervor. And you wish he'd do it all again.

⭐ It's not even surprising that you like Xavier. The guy has been nothing but helpful, protective and co-operative. And he indulges all your requests– from hanging out at the claw machine or playing kitty cards to something as unnecessary as a late night walk– when he could be spending that time reading a book or dozing-off.

⭐ You have found Xavier attractive ever since your first encounter. It's just that only now his searing kisses have left a mark upon your heart. Made you realise that you harbor an emotion far deeper than mere attraction for this man. And it's quite vexing how quickly he seems to have moved on from those shared kisses.

⭐ How can he smile at you with the same lips that nearly stole your breath away? How can he simply go on with his life while you lie awake in bed at nights, reminiscing those moments over and over?

⭐ Xavier has completely ruined you.

⭐ You can neither focus on work nor are you interested in gossiping with Tara and Nero. And to make matters worse, you get assigned to a mission with the last person you wanna face right now— the eccentric, silver-haired neighbor who claims to have killed more than 70,000 wanderers. The same man who had you pinned against a door just a week ago.

⭐ The mission starts smoothly. You and Xavier arrive at the location of a forest with high protofield fluctuations. You are synced as ever, efficiently taking down wave after wave of wanderers.

⭐ But there's a tension radiating between the two of you. It distracts you momentarily, resulting in you almost getting struck by a wanderer swerving it's blade towards you.

⭐ Fortunately, Xavier steps in at the last instant, slips an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. With his other arm, he effortlessly swings his blade and deflects the wanderer's blows.

⭐ He is saying something now, his expression full of concern. But you can barely hear a thing due to the loud drumming of your heart. You are too lost in the sensation of his strong arm firmly holding you in place.

⭐ When you give no response, he tilts his head adorably in confusion and stares at you. And for the briefest of moments, his eyelids lower, his gaze seemingly lingering upon your lips before he licks his own and lets go of your waist, flexing his gloved fingers as he does so.

⭐ He clears his throat, tightens his grip around his sword and resumes his battle stance.

⭐ By the time you've cleared out the wanderers, you want nothing more than to go home. However, Xavier is already approaching you.

⭐ “You seem a little preoccupied. Is that creep bothering you again? Do you need me to beat him up?” He asks.

⭐ “What!?— No! I told you that you can't beat him up!” You wave your hands frantically.

⭐ “Then,” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “it’s that kiss, isn't it?”

⭐ Your face instantly heats up at his direct mention of the kiss. You aren't good with confrontations, especially not when they involve the very man responsible for the sickness of your heart. So you bite your bottom lip and and try leaving again, hoping this is enough of a response.

⭐ But if there's one thing you've come to learn about Xavier, its that he can be very assertive when he wants to be. And right now he's unrelenting. He grabs you by the wrist, gently making you face him again. “I went a little too far, didn't I? I should've asked you before doing something like that. Let me make up for it.”

⭐ The sincerity in his eyes melts your heart. You're the one who had come to him with such an unusual request. You're the one who said he wasn't convincing enough, so he tried to make it feel more genuine. And yet here he is, not even questioning you for a second but already striving to make up for it.

⭐ You can't let him punish himself for it, especially since he didn't hurt you at all. Only left you wanting for more. “Xavier, you didn't go too far. And I don't want you to make up for it.”

⭐ His thumb runs over the back of your hand. “What do you want then?”

⭐ There's a conviction in his eyes– the same one he has before promising he'll win all the plushies for you at the claw machine, the same one he has when slaying wanderers. And you can't help but be honest with him. “I..I want you to kiss me like that..again..”

⭐ There! You've said it now. To hell with shame! And to hell with frustration! You're too tired to hide your feelings any longer.

⭐ Yet at the same time, the anticipation of his response is stressful. You try to pry your hand free of his hold but it only grows tighter now.

⭐ “You– You didn't mind it?” Xavier's eyes darken. So does his demeanor. He takes a step forward, and you take two back. “You’ve been wanting me..to do it again?”

⭐ You nod slightly, and he exhales a breath.

⭐ Xavier draws you closer, his eyes wordlessly asking permission this time. You nod again.

⭐ The next moment, his lips press softly against yours. And for the first time this week, you feel a little sated. It's not all you have ever wished for. Barely anything at all. But it gives you enough strength to live with your feelings for him.

⭐ The kiss deepens as he pushes you against the nearest tree branch, his lips parting your own. You gasp and turn your face away.

⭐ “Xavier, you don't need to do more.” You whisper breathily. “This is enough.”

⭐ He leans his face down, lips moving along your neck. “It’s hardly enough.”

⭐ Even with the pleasure clouding your thoughts, you remind yourself that you can't keep taking his willingness for granted. You can't let him go on. “Xavier, you don't need to pretend for my sake.”

⭐ “I’m not pretending. I want this too.” His response is immediate. “I’ve been wanting this for a very long time.”

⭐ His words hold weight, unlike any declaration made in the heat of the moment. So you give in. Let his hand guide your thigh around his waist as he kisses you again, under the evening quite of the forest.

RAFAYEL

🌊 “Keep up the act for some more time?” Rafayel asks, surprised.

🌊 It's the day after you'd attended that fancy gala with him. You're both sitting on the couch in his studio and you're the one who give this lame suggestion.

🌊 He rests his chin on the back of his palm and smiles mischievously, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t tell me, Miss Bodyguard..have you caught feelings for me?”

🌊 If you were drinking something, you would've probably sputtered it all over by now. But thankfully, there are no refreshments in your hands, and you will not embarass yourself by admitting how accurate he is in his guess (even if made only in jest).

🌊 You school your face into a stern expression as you look back at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we break up right now, after you've been parading me around in everyone's faces, then people will talk. Critics will latch onto this opportunity to write think pieces in hopes of sullying your name. I'm only being cautious as your bodyguard.”

🌊 Rafayel puts a hand over his heart and feigns a hurt expression. “And here I thought you've finally fallen for my irresistible charm.”

🌊 You scoff and roll your eyes. “Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

🌊 “I don't need to think so because its a fact. I am amazing.” He sits up straight. “Anyways I don't care much for critics. I don't care if people misunderstand or hate my art. But I know Thomas will be pulling his hair out if I get a bad name right now.”

🌊 “So,” He pauses for effect as you edge closer to him in anticipation. “I guess we'll keep running this charade for some more time.”

🌊 Before you can even realize, your lips are stretching up into a small smile. You know this is a foolish arrangement. One that is bound to end in nothing but pure agony for you. Yet you insist on dragging this along because you are desperate for a little more time with him. You cannot imagine going back to simply being Rafayel the painter's “bodyguard”.

🌊 You may have developed feelings for him a long time ago but its that kiss that made you realize how far gone you are for this man.

🌊 And you foolishly hope and believe that not all of it had been a mere act for him either. That there's a possibility of him liking you just a teensy bit. And this crazy belief has deluded you into entertaining fantasies you should not.

🌊 Now that you've had a taste of what it's like to have him as your lover, it's impossible for you to settle for anything less. You want him, and you wish for him to want you too.

🌊 The snap of a finger in front of your face draws you out of your juvenile daydreams. Rafayel is assessing your face. “Where are you? Come back to the real world, Miss Bodyguard. We're discussing some important things here.”

🌊 Your cheeks heat up and you apologize for getting distracted. “Yes, I'm listening. What is it?”

🌊 Rafayel shakes his head but begins explaining. “I’m saying that since we can't break up abruptly, then let's do it,” He pauses again, spreading his arms out and staring up at the high ceiling dramatically. “publicly.”

🌊 Your hear a crumbling sound and feel an ache in your heart. “What does that mean?”

🌊 He grins excitedly. “If we break up publicly, in the presence of a huge crowd with big names and paparazzis around, then surely it will leave little to no room for speculation and criticism.”

🌊 You feel fissures steadily forming on your heart. This isn't what you had expected when you had suggested him to continue on with this charade. A sinking feeling looms over you yet despite that you try your best to force a smile upon your face. “That..seems like an interesting idea.”

🌊 From that point onwards, any time to you meet Rafayel, the passionate kiss you had shared at the gala plays in the back of your mind. And you wonder if you'll ever get to kiss him again, even if only for the sake of this temporary farce.

🌊 Now every time Rafayel steps even an inch closer to you or lowers his head, you find yourself expecting– and hoping for– a kiss. A kiss that sadly never comes.

🌊 And the worst part is that you can't get mad at him. He merely asked you to play pretend. He never asked you to catch feelings. If anything, you should've been just as professional as he is. At least it would've saved you from experiencing the heaviness you feel within your chest.

🌊 But lets ignore all that because today you are at Rafayel’s place to discuss how the two of you will publicly carry out a fake break-up of your fake relationship during an upcoming exhibition.

🌊 Rafayel explains how you are supposed to yell at him during the exhibition, and make sure everyone around hears how difficult it is for you to date someone well-known. That it is becoming impossible for the two of you to make time for each other.

🌊 You scoff. “And then what? You'll say how I've always been nothing but a gold digger, chasing after you for your money and fame?”

🌊 Rafayel claps his hands. “Actually not bad. And then you can say how I am just as rotten as the rest of the celebrities.”

🌊 You can't help but laugh despite the ache in your heart. “This is so trope-y and predictable. No one will buy it.”

🌊 “Oh trust me they will. Everyone loves a little drama.” Rafayel tries convincing you. “You can add a few more insults and break my heart. And I can dedicate my next art piece to you, my cute but cruel ex.”

🌊 You laugh some more and he laughs with you.

🌊 Rafayel may act a little arrogant and childish at times but he is a good person by nature. Whether intentional or not, he always makes you laugh. The time spent in his company may not always be relaxing but it is certainly always entertaining.

🌊 And you realize how these moments will be gone forever after this so-called “break-up”, and how truly unprepared you are to endure it.

🌊 The eve of the exhibition finally arrives.

🌊 Rafayel keeps repeating the things you are supposed to say and do if you are to end this arrangement tonight. But you can only focus on the unease bubbling within your belly.

🌊 He quirks his chin, signaling for you to begin but you find yourself rooted in spot, unable to utter a single word. The unease in your belly grows and you take a deep breath before finally speaking.

🌊 “I’m..I’m getting tired of this.” You mumble softly. You aren't sure if anyone heard that but you continue. “You’re the one who asked me out yet now I feel as if you don't even care.”

🌊 Your voice is shaky now. You're taking in more breaths with every word you speak. Rafayel's calm expression falters as he watches the way you ball your palms into tight fists. “I..I don't think I can go on any longer!”

🌊 Your words resonate with your actual feelings. You really cannot go on like this much longer. You will miss the silly moments spent with him. You will be unable to genuinely smile with him after this. It will become impossible for you to even be his bodyguard. And you don't want that. You don't want any of it!

🌊 The unease in your belly spreads all over your skin like a wildfire. You feel tears streaming down your cheeks as you shake your head at him. “I can't do this.” You choke out before running off, the crowd of people around gasping in shock.

🌊 Rafayel follows right on your heels, grabbing you by the waist before you can trip on the stairs and fall.

🌊 “Let me go!” You yell but he's pulling you into a secluded room.

🌊 “Hey..calm down.” He tucks the loose strands of your hair behind your ears and gently wipes your tears with his thumb.

🌊 But you can't do this. You can't tolerate him being so tender with you right before he mercilessly breaks your heart. You step away from him and his eyes widen, a hint of anguish now swimming in them.

🌊 “What's wrong, Y/N?” He asks, calling you by your actual name instead of the nickname he loves so much.

🌊 And you actually respond, words flooding out of your mouth like a crumbling damn. “Rafayel, I can't do this. I am drowning in my feelings for you. And I know it's not your responsibility to feel the same way just cause I do but I..” You sob, unable to say anymore.

🌊 He stares at you for a moment, an unknown emotion alight in his eyes. Then he breaks into a shrill laugh, the sound of it echoing loudly in the silent room. And he wraps his arms around you in an embrace, his shoulders shaking as he laughs some more.

🌊 “Look at you, falling for me just when I try to distance myself from you.” He strokes soothing circles on your back. “When I try to end all this to run away from my own feelings for you..”

🌊 Your own eyes widen now and you pull away to look at him, waiting for him to affirm what he just said. He chuckles, wiping your tear-stained face before leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

🌊 “Yeah yeah I'm madly in love with. And it seems you did, after all, fall for my irresistible charms.” He drawls out as if talking about something insignificant.

🌊 Then he leans closer, his breath tickling your lips. “If you wanted us to date for real, you should've simply asked. Instead you made me chase after you like some besotted prince in a fairy tale.”

🌊 You find yourself laughing at that and he lets out a breath.

🌊 “There’s the laugh.” He murmurs, sealing his lips with yours, his fingers carding through your hair as he tilts your head and deepens the kiss.

Hope it was upto your expectations or atleast as enjoyable as part 1 of this ♡ It's unedited so i apologise for any errors (i'm a little sleepy and will edit later). And thank you for all the love and support on all my LADS headcanons so far 🥹🫶

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[voxisdaddy]

Collection of Pleasure

Hazbin Hotel NSFW Headcanons…

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Alastor | Lucifer | Vox | Valentino | Velvette | Charlie | Vaggie | Cherri Bomb | Rosie | Carmilla | Adam | Lute | Emily | Saint Peter

C/TW: 18+, NSFW, MDNI, reader written as fem, cussing, various kinks, collection of a few subs x dom!reader, mainly the ladies are domming/topping lol, not proofread, some are bad im sorry, carmilla has two though bc its carmilla

In which in at least one NSFW headcanon for each character...

My personal NSFW headcanon for several Hazbin Hotel characters. This includes some of the main cast, the Vee’s, the angels, and some of the other characters ♥︎

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Alastor likes being the predator chasing his prey during his rut...

Sex with Alastor is pretty rare, happens occasionally but usually it's for special occasions like an anniversary. His ruts however? His favourite thing to do (aside from you) is have you run around the forest in his room while he hunts for you in his demon form. He can very easily catch you but he likes to let it play out before he pounces on you for like, two weeks. Goodluck lol

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lucifer is an insatiable beast...

When he started crying and was quivering so bad one night, you thought that enough was enough and climbed off of him only for his hips to desperately follow you, thrusting into nothing. Despite his tears from the overstimulation you've given him for several rounds by then, he looked at you with teary eyes and begged you to not stop. A safe word was set in place because of that, so you made sure when to stop when he genuinely wanted you to stop. But despite how teary eyed he gets or how much he begs, he never uses it.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox likes to watch himself...

"Oh you mean like in front of a mirror?" NO. Well yes but actually he loves getting it on with you in his office because all his monitors will showcase how well you're either riding his dick or fucking his ass with a strap. A few monitors will display his weeping face though thanks to you. He thinks it's humiliating and will try and change them to literally anything else but he can't exactly focus on anything when he's so lost in pleasure. So his weeping face and him getting railed it is. It's like he's your own porn star. This porn star whimpers "mommy" too so have fun with that.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Valentino is capable of getting fucked dumb...

I know it might be hard to believe with him, but it is possible and it's why he's so obsessed with you. He's very experienced in sex, obviously; doming, subbing, top, bottom, doesn't matter. It's all good. The way you can somehow fuck him so good and bring him to so much overstimulation that all he can do babble incoherently? Mans is down bad for you and grows more romantically attached to you than he thinks. Often times the night after a particularly passionate and heated session, he heads to the studio with a slight limp in his step. The first time people saw him limping like that paired with his surprisingly decent mood that day, they knew; oh you're fucking good.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Velvette is a pillow princess...

I 100% see her as a dom, and she very well can dom, but she's selfish and wants all the pleasure with minimal work. With the way she acted, especially when it comes to teasing you, it really through you in a loop when you got to bed that evening. Okay so you're topping-no big deal. The real surprise was when you found out she didn't wanna do anything to help you get off. Oh well. Sitting on her face and using a vibrator against her clit is motivational enough for her to pleasure you too.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Charlie has a little bit of an exhibitionist kink...

a little bit. Kind of? Okay but you know the large window in her room we see her by in episode 1? Has rode your strap and/or fucked you with a strap right in front of that baby. Granted it's pretty high so not like anyone can easily look in anyways but it's still just not private enough that it does something to her. If she's ever potentially really ticked off sometimes she'll eat pussy aggressively while you're pressed, bare tits and all, against the glass.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vaggie likes titi's...

Whether your big breasted or sporting itty bitties, her hands immediately go to fondle them during heated make out sessions. She's kinda shy in the bedroom so don't take her boldness to grope your chest as her being dominant-she just can't help herself from groping you. Sometimes after sex she'll kiss your chest. Depending on where she kisses and if she'd biting or not, it may lead to another round.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Cherri Bomb is the only person who can rival Lucifer over…

Eating pussy. Whether your sitting on her face or her head is buried between your plush thighs, my girl loves to eat. And she eats like her life depends on it. Even when you think she may need a breather and try to move she’s very quick in pulling you back and keeps you there firmly, often smirking when you’re overstimulated and squirming.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Rosie loves thighs...

Call her old fashioned (cuz she is) but seeing your exposed thighs just does something to her. I mean how scandalous! She spends a majority of her time in Cannibal Town which is trapped in the 1910's. Everyone is dressed in only the most stylish and modest clothing from that time period. So if you ever come strutting about, publicly or privately, in a little something that exposes more of your figure and especially your thighs, expect to have dozens of hickeys decorating your inner thighs by the next day.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Carmilla always says she has no favourite sex position but she does...

it's 69. She prefers to be at bottom since it makes it easier for her to finger you while simultaneously assaulting your clit with her tongue. And of course while you're down there she likes to keep you trapped with her thighs. Because i mean look at them thighs!!! MMHHMMM!!! I see her leaning more towards dom so like, if you're able to focus on eating her out without getting distracted as little as possible then she'll reward you good.

I have two for Carmilla that I desperately want to share so here's my second one; she loves having you keep her strap warm while she does paperwork. Just you sittin pretty on her big plastic dick, occasionally gripping your thigh when you squirm too much. Will play with your clit if you're being needy-try not to squirm too much though or else you ain't getting anything once she'd done her work for the day.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Adam secretly cherishes your more intimate sex...

As much as a dick (master) this guy is, he definitely has his vulnerable side. During some make up sex after an argument and temporary separation that could have very easily lead to your guys break up, he found himself unusually emotional as he was balls deep in ya. He didn't cry, as if he'd allow himself to do that especially at a time like sex, but he felt it. The pull at his heart strings, the relief that washed over him that you two were still together, the way your lips uttered his name like a prayer., It was a surprise to him and one he'll never forget.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lute cums surprisingly fast via fingering...

You found this out when opting to use your fingers to do the job over the dildo, strap, and vibrator. She already knew she came fast via fingering but didn't want anyone to know that-she came almost embarrassingly fast and it sometimes felt like it wouldn't stop. This hit her ego a little bit considering that she's stubborn as all hell but she could barely defend herself when she kept cumming around your fingers. Safe to say you had quite a lot to lap up that night.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Emily gets wet easily...

is it really that surprising? You found this out when you were kissing at her neck and reached down to her uplifted dress and felt that slick wet feeling between her legs. She was very flustered and even more when you teased her for getting this wet over a few neck kisses-there was only one hickey (so far).

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Saint Peter has a thing for light bondage...

Nothing hard obviously but his wrists being bound together or to the bed via rope or handcuffs gets him going. It puts him in a position where he's completely at your mercy. Blindfolding him is on the table as well-his other senses are heightened as fuck making him react more enthusiastically to your touches and whispers. Even though he's into it it's also a double edges sword cuz this guy needs to touch you and not even being allowed to look at you either has him whining.

This has been in my drafts for weeks lol some of these aren't to my personal standards but I was really running out ideas that were both fitting to the character and weren't too basic/a repeat of another's. I didn't wanna exclude some people from my original roster so I toughed it out lol

sometimes my posts get shadowbanned for literally no reason and at random so it would mean the world if you reblogged this thank you <3 no pressure tho!

[runerapier]

With FS 2 finally out I wanted to share some of my thoughts, I think it would be fun to talk about the possible mental state Angeal is in around this time in his life and subsequently how it reflects Sephiroth, as well as the meaning behind Angeal's dream sequence.

Since a lot of the details of Angeal’s backstory are hidden in external material, I’m going to use it as a point of reference. Crisis Core has a lot of content they were not able to include at the time of it’s release, so it will be fun to see if they follow up on these things they wrote about but couldn’t include in game.

We already see from the get go that Angeal is serving as a contrast to Sephiroth’s outlook, demeanor, and manners. Angeal’s energy and passion he has for teamwork, his comrades, and genuine care he has for doing his job all directly contrast Sephiroth’s whatever attitude. Even small acts of chivalry are made to highlight this, showing Angeal going the extra mile to help Alissa across the bridge vs Sephiroth’s refusal to engage with anyone socially. Sephiroth was brought up to function independently, made to be a one man army, no use for friends, families, or allies. Especially with the recent loss of friends, he is going to be distant.

This is extremely important for contrast with Angeal, who has likely recently left home and is missing his family, not to mention he is someone he deeply values his connection to others. There is no set age for when Angeal left home, but it is likely within the last 2~ years. His sword in game is listed as type 90, this is comparable to Zack’s sword in CC which is type 99, the type number likely reflects the year the sword was created or the year of when that model was created. Assuming that it's updated every year, leans towards the fact they've been in SOLDIER since at least that year. Meaning Angeal likely left home at 14~, which is closer to around the age Zack and Cloud left home for SOLDIER anyways.

Angeal is someone very sentimental, he is very defensive of his home and his family. CC showed us he was quite nostalgic about Banora on several occasions. This is another contrast to Sephiroth, who doesn't have a hometown or a family. According to the CC ultimania, Genesis was one of the motivators for Angeal to leave and find a better way of living. The new chapter confirmed Angeal left home because he wanted to help pull his family out of poverty. In CC, Angeal's father was said to fall sick from overwork to pay off debt from the buster sword; however, the ultimania mentions an important detail: his father has always been weak and sickly. It’s partly due to his father being chronically ill/disabled that they aren’t able to make a lot of money. The buster sword isn’t the sole cause of his death but rather an extension of working in a system that likely exploits disabled people. Genesis might have been the push Angeal needed to leave far away from home rather than staying and trying to take care of his sick father.

Which gets us to Angeal’s dream, there is debate on how much of it is real because Sephiroth’s wasn’t real. In my personal opinion, the dream being real is a very important contrast to Sephiroth. We know that whatever Alissa is, she is preying on the desires of them. Especially in the case of her being Jenova, who uses memories of her victims to her advantage. Angeal doesn’t need to make up a scenario of his family loving him or being proud of him, because it’s already a reality, Sephiroth doesn’t have this luxury. Angeal's father pushed himself to the brink just so he could support his son in his endeavor, there is no doubt his family loved and supported him. So, what is Angeal's actual desire then? In CC it is never really specified when Angeal's father died, but in Gillian’s profile in the ultimania, it mentions his father died shortly after Angeal left for SOLDIER, even the dream is hinting towards something bad happening on the horizon. Angeal's dad is probably already dead and it is mirroring Sephiroth wanting to see his mother. Possibly reinforced by the fact he is already refusing to use the buster, while it's not confirmed if he didn’t use it all because of his cheapness, I think his father's death added significant value to the sword, making it irreplaceable. They are two kids who just want to be with their parents again, one's desire being entirely fictional and the other's being in the past. It is another contrast between them with their dreams: Sephiroth's being all he lacks, and Angeal's is all he had, but left behind. Both unattainable but in a different sense.

This dream is likely some of the last stability Angeal had before leaving home, along with possibly being one of the last times he saw his father alive which is probably why he is yearning for it. I think if the dream itself symbolized only wanting stability Angeal wouldn’t mention leaving for SOLDIER, I don’t think he wanted to leave home to provide for his family if given the choice. Instead "Jenova" is preying on something that is tangible. However, there is still a possibility it is exaggerated a bit with Angeal having the money for donations and plenty of food. I don't think this is true either, the dream implies Angeal was already working at this age to support his family, so it’s not entirely out of the question he uses what little he has to give back or that he helped with saving for Gillian's birthday party. In contrast nothing in Sephiroth's dream was real besides the fact he lives in the Shinra building, we know Angeal has loving parents, we know he is a hard worker, we know he left for soldier, and we know he loves his village and his family, more was real than just the setting. Also, I think there's a point that this is a special occasion, they could've opted to save up for her birthday. It really didn’t feel too wild to me that one day in particular they had extra food, especially considering they live in a farm village. When and the exact reason why Angeal stole when he was younger is honestly not clarified at all. He could have been afraid of asking for extra food, it could have been during droughts, or even when his father was too sick to work. It is very common for poor families in remote villages to grow their own crops, we even see people in Gongaga growing their own supply, so these things are not really out of the question. I think if any of these details were fake Angeal would be confused or surprised by having these things like how Sephiroth did to make it clear to us as the viewer, but that didn’t happen. The dream closes with remarking his desire to provide for his family so they live happy and healthy… and we know that didn’t happen, which is the point. I think it's also worth mentioning there are some small discrepancies in the localization. He isn't just giving out expensive equipment to multiple people individually, instead, it's a donation that is meant to be shared by everyone. Angeal is building community with farmers who might also be struggling, and I feel like this is an important detail that's missing.

(small disclaimer: I'm not fluent, I only know basics, but I did my best to break down the sentences to make sure these were accurate)

I think it’s clear Angeal isn’t yearning to be rich (or someone else that’s not even relevant in the current narrative… especially when their focus currently is to compare and contrast him with Sephiroth). If Angeal wanted to be rich or famous why isn't he chatting up the PR guy to hope it gets him more attention to the point of promotion? Instead Angeal cares about doing his job and making sure it’s done right, he even gets angry at Bachman and tells him his priority is the rescue mission. Angeal cares deeply about protecting and caring for the people around him, especially those important to him. The dream is only reinforcing this. They even made his gameplay reflect his narrative by being the one to provoke and tank damage for his team, which shows how he views his role as a leader. I want to preface this with there being nothing wrong if the dream ends up being exaggerated, I think regardless it is a good insight on Angeal's character. He loves his family and friends, he wants to support them and make them happy. It shows how they were a positive influence on his life and how they affected his motivations. I think narratively speaking though, Angeal having something that is at very least somewhat more real is another important contrast with Sephiroth, especially when a point of contention between them is how they grew up in different worlds. I think the turmoil of Angeal’s father being most likely dead is going to carry a lot of weight for this story and is meant to parallel Sephiroth's desires for wanting family, it possibly being how they find common ground. While Angeal did grow up in a loving household, he is going through a lot right now with his father's passing. The focus on the Buster sword is incredibly important since it is going to represent why Angeal fights. To protect and to care for what he couldn’t back home, for what his father wanted for him. A dream of a better future and to not lose sight of his morals.

In my personal opinion, it makes a lot of sense that Genesis might not be joining for this section of the story. It's shining a light on some of two most iconic swords in gaming history, and how Angeal’s outlook related to his struggles is going to shape Sephiroth. Angeal’s character and his trauma shape the foundation of the Buster sword and future wielders, and it shaping the Masamune too will be an extension of that. He is the heart of SOLDIER, and I am excited to see this story continue to reinforce that.

[teeramoonlover]

Slytherin Boys - When things couldn’t work out for them

Mattheo Riddle • Theodore Nott • Lorenzo Berkshire • Draco Malfoy • Blaise Zabini

Warning: Angst, Grammatical error

Mattheo Riddle

Fake Relationship Too Late to Save

You remember the first time you met him in the library as he approached your table, asking if you could help him with his studying. Without you realize, the conversation between you and him bloom to something more. Stolen glances across the halls, hanging out at the Astronomy Tower for him to have smoke while you just need a company. He then brings you to Hogsmeade, sort of a date as he jokingly said, until the moment he kiss you under the first fall of snow. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"And it feel like the start of the movie I've seen before."

You never feel happier. He was your first kiss, first boyfriend. First in everything you couldn't imagine you'd get yourself into. Your friend told you his bad news, but he was sweet to you. You believed him. You told him one night on his crumpling bedsheets, with no clothes. Deep inside, he has goodness in him, it just no one bother to notice. That was the moment you see the glimpse of his true feelings to you, in his eyes like you were the stars to his dark universe.

That was until you heard his friend remind him about the bet. A bet for him to take your virginity. Galleons could be heard exchange among them but you couldn't see the reluctant look of his face. You were gone the moment it happen, without a glance back.

That was a month ago. After you overheard their conversation, you don’t want to ruin the moment. So, you play along with his game, crushing you trust pieces by pieces.

You could feel how slowly he's opening up to you, but your mind couldn't help to remind this was all a façade. His genuine laugh which was meant for you to see but thought it never felt the same. Passion kiss that he can't live without but feels empty for you. The way he hold you like he is worried you might slip away, slowly feel suffocating for you to handle. It was too much for you when he was over the moon.

When he starts to promise he will be with you for an eternity, you know you have to end it. Because you don’t want to give him hope as you slowly, dying out of love.

"But, it's not real, and you don't exist."

Theodore Nott

Secret Relationship Gone Wrong

Funny, isn't it? To think that one day he will be holding hands with you in the hallway, letting everyone know that you were together with him. His watercolour eyes were always dead once ablaze when his lips touched yours behind closed doors. His hands roamed, holding you in bed, gazing at you like you were his lifeline after he made sure his room was locked. His smile was bright under the sun, head on your lap near the Black Lake far away from pry eyes. Late night walks, spending time stargazing, sneaking out like thieves without getting caught by prefects and friends.

"I want a witness, he's staying guarded

He wants the blinds drawn, I just want him."

But as soon Hogwarts comes to life, no greetings nor eye contact as you and him cross the halls. His eyes never held warm, as if you were a stranger in the presence of his friend. Let random girls touch, flirting with him since he doesn't do relationships, as people claim. His lips stretched with a mockery smile as his friends belittled you in the worst possible way. You could only cry under the moonlight when he broke his promises, one at a time.

"Does he know it's killing me?

He'll never show me off."

Rumours spread that he's seeing someone. His friends claim they are dating. Your eyes meet with his hand intertwined with hers in the hallways. Realization hit you that a muggle like you shouldn't be dreaming of being with a pureblood boy like him. As you walk further from them, your head turned towards him as if you feel someone's eyes on you. Surprisingly, your eyes accidentally met his. His eyes sparkled as he saw you but slowly morphed into something you had never seen before. "What's wrong, Theo? You look like you've seen a ghost." The girl in green robes asked him worriedly.

"And I know that I should walk away this time"

Because the last time he saw was your resign smile as if that was her final goodbye for him.

After all, he will never show you off to the world you were his, as he wasn't yours to begin with.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Friends to Lovers to Stranger

You and Lorenzo were inseparable since you were both kids. Of course, little you will be having a silly crush on him as you grow older.

"I had a friend that turned to a lover."

You both surprisingly confess your love towards each other at the same time. It was like you and him were meant to be. After all, you know every little detail about him, so does he.

But maybe that too was the reason the relationship wouldn't last. Because you know him too much. Or you never know him at all.

"I'm stuck here wondering, wondering what I did wrong

You’re the one that I want."

Seeing him with someone else beside you pains you to no end. When he asks you for a breakup, you feel like the world is about to end. For him, he moved on from you too quickly as twisted as it sounds. He told you he finally found someone that understood him.

Then, what am I to you after all these years?

The last straw was he picked her over you, over and over again. Even if she was at fault, there would be a reason for you to blame, even though it wasn't. The last thing you remembered was that you had the biggest fight you ever had with him. His sentence will engrave in your mind.

"You know, I shouldn't have met you. I shouldn't even confess to you. You're just too obsessed with what I'm doing in my life, which is not any of your concern anymore. That's why I end it. Because you're being too much."

"I wonder if you, you still remember

The time when you told me no matter what happens we’d still have each other

But that was a lie."

After the war, you lived in a rural place. A place that you both once dreamed of when you were kids. A small hut that can see the sight of a pond, sparkling from sunrise till sunset.

You stop caring for him, even if it hurts to do so. You don't want to bother him with your presence. You don't want to show you care. Because it was too much for him. You can't seem to grasp the idea of being a stranger the next time you saw him.

So, you do what's best for you. You keep all his photos, gifts, even a stupid doddle, and sweet words he once told you in a box. You dig and cover the box full of memories deep in the Earth's soil, making it like a small mini graveyard for your fleeting memories of him. Astoria came to your doorstep. Her eyes held doubt, worried about you.

"Are you sure about this?"

You slowly sit on one of the chairs outside, picturing the scene one last time. You turn to look at Astoria, holding a smile that never reaches your eyes.

"It's for the best. You're a bright witch. I know you can do it."

Astoria took her time, before lifting her wand towards your head.

"Obliviate."

Draco Malfoy

This Relationship was Bound to End Anyway

"Care to explain why I heard about the arranged marriage of you with Astoria Greengrass?" Your bloodshot eyes meet with his cold silver ones. You could remember those pairs were always warm every time he laid his eyes on you.

Those were the memories you cherished dearly as the days went by. How you first found him in the Hospital Wing when you were both in third years because he's being a bloody idiot to challenged a hippogriff. Madam Pomfrey assured him it was just a scratch and not making a big deal out of it, while little you slowly approached him to tell him it would be just fine. You even put the soothing balm on his injured arm to emphasize your words.

You were shocked when he approached you, asking to be his partner for the Yule Ball. Of course you say yes. After all, you always attract the broken souls. That was until he kiss you under the mistletoe at the Astronomy Tower, and confess you to be his.

After troubles upon troubles he's done, you never left his side. You loved him deeply, so does he. Promises upon promises he made for you but the one you believe the most were both of you will be forever. Until the moment his father was caught and sent to Azkaban because he's working associated with the Dark Lord.

"Darling, nobody say that it will last forever."

You can feel his sudden shift. How he become distant from you. How he become so quiet and prefer live among shadows, even you can't bring out the joy in him. You know he was a Death Eaters. But you still stay. During the war, you plead to him for the last time, but he was the boy who had no choice.

So he left you, among the shambles. So does your breaking heart.

You thought when the war is over, he will come back to you. Oh how wrong you were.

"Just like that? No explanation, nothing to tell me at all? If you don’t love me anymore, at least spare me your goodbyes."

After you broke things off with him, next week you had receive his wedding card. Him and now Astoria Malfoy.

Six years later, rumors told that he had a son but unfortunately for the wife, she passed away. It's been a long time since you never spoke to him. Until that night.

He still miss you. He couldn't move on from you. He wants to fulfill the promise they both made since fifteen.

"Hope you know, I wished you all the love you're looking for"

Today he's wearing his best suit to look presentable to you, waiting for you walking down the aisle, towards the altar. You look beautiful in your overflow wedding dress. For the first time, he saw you the happiest. They exchange the vows. For you now, to take Fred Weasley as your husband and him to declare the world that you are his.

After all, you were always attract the broken souls as if you were the angel that guide their lost to the light. Draco Malfoy was once your lost souls. It's time for Fred to feel the same, as he deserve after the loss of his twin.

"Two burning hearts are dared to break,

Remember, nobody said that it would last forever."

Blaise Zabini

Can't Live Without Dead Lover

It was just a marriage, bound without love.

You know what you get yourself into, but you can't help but fall deep into him.

He was a kind gentleman but never was with you. His words were never gentle nor did a single kindness wherever he spoke to you. He will always remind you who you are to him. He never once laid a hand on you. His touch was always cold, but you embrace his flaw. Even if it will kill you in the end.

"In the end, you’ll leave me like all those men walking out from my mother's life."

He should have uttered those words carefully. He couldn't help but say them so you could feel the pain like he had right now.

However, slowly and surely, there's a saying that men love too late. But you still wait for him. You understood the unfairness that was given to him.

He never felt grateful. You, as his wife never sway from his immature tantrums and stupid shenanigans. He felt like you deserve someone better. So, he made the best out of this marriage. He wants a family. He wants to be a better man for you.

Every time he was done working at the Ministry, to him, coming home was bliss. Because you will be there to embrace him with a warm, undying love that he never felt before, even from his own mother.

"It was heaven a moment ago

I had it almost, we had it almost."

But it seems like the universe was mocking him. The previous words with blunt venom towards his beloved wife slowly set them like a prayer to become true. A wish of your existence permanently erased from his life.

Your last moment with him was when he brought you to the theatre. As a gift for their anniversary. It was like his past coming back to him, eating him alive. It happened too fast. The unforgivable spell was meant for him, but you won't let that happen. You love him too much. So, you hug him for one final time and take the hit.

The only thing he could remember was him crying, hugging your body close to him, felt your last, final breath. Your body lay in the coffin as he kissed your forehead with your cold hand in his. Your tombstone held your name as a reminder of your absence in his manor.

"I can't seem to let myself leave you,

But I can't breathe anymore

I can't seem to not need to need you,

And I can't breathe anymore."

Every year he will visit you with your favorite bouquets of flowers. He knew you despise loneliness, especially in the dark. So, he will make sure to spend as much time with you, telling you about his journey. As if you were there for him.

In his dream, in his heart. Always.

[mel0-dy]

Wait, they don't love you like I love you / ran. shuji. izana.

about: fluff boyfriend images on tokyo revengers men

a/n: i'll keep this cheesy and sweet for u guys because i love u so much and u girlies and gays deserve the best. Have a nice day! (^～^)

𐙚 Ran is a natural sleeper so most probably after the gang or school stuff, he'll hangout to your home just to rest. He rarely use or even check his phone that's why you're kind of relieve that he knows how to go to your apartment. Why 'kinda' you asked? Well sometimes you kinda get freaked out when somebody knocks at your door at the middle of the night lol.

You can't predict him but that's what makes him interesting anyway. He might appear as nonchalant but when it comes to you? Oh girl, he's talkative like a young boy in love. But don't worry, he listens to you too haha. You can even caught Ran starting at your eyes or lips when you tell him about your school or work. Nevertheless, your nights or days with him were simple and comforting like the time the two of you just listened to a cute song. I guess the two of you can be both orange or black cats depending on your mood levels in spending time with each other. "What matters the most is we're together doll," he smiled and waved goodbye before going back to his home.

𐙚 Shuji is the kind of guy you're actually glad you've been with. You were tired of online dating and finally give in giving him a chance. He's the one that fell in love first and he continue courting and shameless flirting with you no matter where you go. You get shy so easily that's why you told him to stop and look that someone is starting but he didn't care. All he knows is that he wants you to feel love like butterflies to your stomach. At first, he was the sketchy or skeptical dude but you didn't regret getting to know him. Shuji is a passionate guy and always motivates you to do your best whether you were busy at your hobbies or studies. Him being clingy? He also asked if that's okay with you and my oh my you giggled and didn't realize that even if he looks like a bad boy, he's still a lover boy at heart. "I'll still court you even if we're already dating, remember that," he texted at your number leaving a smile on your rosy lips.

𐙚 Izana, your favorite game streamer, became your boyfriend and moments has been amazing ever since. You were used on watching him and commenting how good looking he is and you admire his gaming skills. Out of miracle, he recognized you and slid on your dms. You were a blushing mess and asked if he was real or not trolling but all you see was his genuine and kind demeanor. Months passed, the two of you lived in. Even though he stays up late to continue streaming, you were always there on his side and support him. When one time you gave him his favorite snack, the viewers saw a glimpse of you and immediately caused a fuss on the chat. Izana just made his cute laugh and admit to the people that indeed yes, he already has a love of his life, a partner that he will be always be grateful of. "Oh her? She's my number one fan. Isn't she beautiful?" he smirked at the camera and you became a blushing mess behind.

[your-nanas-house]

Just acting... right?

◇ Pairing: Neil Lewis X Best Friend fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: filming, shitty acting skills, dry humping, Neil cumming in his pants, Y/n director, bit of shaming

◇ Summary: Neil needs some help for the sensual scene they need to record.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. This isn't proof read.. like most of my works but 🤫 I'm tired. This is based on this BEAUTIFUL moodboard made by @darlingsfandom . Also Happy B-day @emilyrosier !!!!

"Stop, Stop... Cut!" Y/n's disappointed voice interrupted Neil in the middle of his acting for a clip of the short movie they were recording to promote an event at Gumshoe Video.

That time the nerdy man had asked a little help from his best friend in hope to improve and give a kind of upgrade to the usual stuff.

The scene on the script, which was written by Neil himself, should have been a passionate and sensual one where the main character was having an intimate moment with a lover of his.

Due to the low budget there wasn't actually a second person there, not that they really needed it since that scene had the cameras all pointed at Neil's face, taking in his expression and the movements of his body.

So yeah... it should have been a sensual and sexy act that should have aroused and not disgusted or made the viewer worry of the main character conditions. "Dude... what was that? Are you okay?... it looked like you were having some kind of attack or about to throw up. Geez" the young woman confronted her best friend while staring at him with concern before rolling her eyes as soon as he went on the defensive

"Shush, no arguing with the director. You can't act this kind of scenes on your own, it's the forty-first try we make... I can't suffer this thing again. Sensual, sexy, you're having an orgasm... not dying by a bullet or due to poison" her harsh words slapped Neil right across his face, making him shut his mouth and follow her orders.

His best friend moved closer, fixing the camera again before meeting his gaze still lost in her thoughts.

They needed to find a solution to finally finish that short film.

"Okay... nerdy thing. Let's... Let's simply pretend shall we?" Y/n murmured with less confidence as she climbed on his lap and fixed the background which were the sheets of the bed and the pillows... there were also some rose petals because Neil had insisted.

Her eyes met carefully Neil's piercing light blue ones and she had to swallow the lump, that had formed in her throat, without stopping to fix the set to try for the forty-first attempt "And... action!" Y/n exclaimed as she focused the filming on her friend's freckled face, her hips casually grinding against his clothed crotch.

As the minutes passed and Neil said his lines, his expression started to become more genuine and real— expecially when his hips started to thrust up in seek of more friction. His slender fingers grabbed her hips, forcing her to grind harder on him while getting to the exact position the two characters should have been in the script.

A long whiny moan and his beautiful eyes were rolling back, his back arching softly and his swollen lips parting, as soon as his climax hit him like a train.

The scene was perfect, they didn't need to film it again, so Neil had all the time to change his cummed pants and underwear before recording the final parts of the script.

They were just acting, right?, Y/n asked herself as she glanced back at her best friend, still feeling the tension and butterflies in her stomach.

[megumiluvv]

Dad’s Best Friend

Cont: dad’s best friend!Nanami x (ADULT)fem!reader, protected sex (yay Nanami!), cunnilingus (kinda), mentions of aftercare, mentions of daddy issues (real), Nanami calls you princess most of the time, praise kink

Word count: 1300 exactly (I’m cool like that)

Masterlist

A/n: this was half written in my notes app?? And reader still lives with her dad, but he’s rarely around because of work. Happy birthday Nanami!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3 ignore any grammar mistakes, they’re not real.

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

Thinking about how Nanami, your dad’s best friend, who has known you only around 6 years, but is always there for you. When you break up with a partner or make the Honor Roll at school, he’s always there to hold you close when you cry or to applaud you in the audience. How he was there more than his best friend, your own father, was for you your entire life in just a few years.

You may not admit it, but he was your first love, you think he’s your soulmate. No one else gets you like Kento. Especially when it comes to the things you like. He can read you like an open book. He wants to know all of you like the back of his hand, but fears you don’t feel the same way. You know him more than your dad does, since he offers to hang out with you while your dad works long hours through the week. You two have gotten to know each other a lot.

So it makes sense when one day, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of a year because he cheated on you, Kento let’s you cry in his arms, whispering soft “I’ve got you”’s and “don’t stress over dumb boys who can’t keep it in their pants��’s. You look up at him with the latter comment and wipe a couple of tears from your face.

“I hate men who do that…” you whisper, voice shaking from crying.

“Those boys aren’t men, men know how to treat women right,” he whispers back, giving you a loving look as he wipes your tears for you.

You can’t help but feel a twinge of desire at his words and look up at him.

“What does that make you?” You ask. Kento pauses for a few seconds and lifts you off his lap so he can stand.

“How about I show you what a man is supposed to be like?” He whispers, taking your hand and leading you to your room. You can feel the desire warming both of your bodies as you willingly follow him. “On the bed, baby,” he whispers, shutting your door gently as you slowly crawl onto your own bed. He sits down and sits you on his lap, gently caressing your body.

“I want to know you more than I know myself, not just your thoughts and personality, but your body too,” he whispers, looking at you for your consent. You swallow hard at his words, nodding and silently begging for him to do something. He gently grabs your face and kisses you, letting you melt into his touch and kiss before gently pulling away.

“Was that too weird?”

You laugh a little, blushing profusely at his genuine question. “No, Kento. Not too weird,” you giggle, smiling genuinely.

“Good. Because I plan to make you forget about that little cheating brat you called a boyfriend for a year,” he says before gently pulling you into a more passionate kiss.

Your tongues clash and you moan into the older male’s mouth, his hands tangling into your hair. He grunts and hums into your mouth, hands never staying still, moving from your hair to your body, meeting every desire you’ve had for him and he’s secretly had for you.

“Can’t get enough of you, dear,” he mumbles into your ear and grinds you against him. You gasp as his hips tilt just right against your skirt, rubbing your clit so sweetly.

“Kento, god, that feels good…”

“Good, princess, want you to feel good. I’m not being too greedy, am I?”

“No, not at all. Want more, actually,” you whisper against his lips.

He grins and starts to undress you and you help, lifting your hips when he pulls off your skirt.

“So pretty, princess, let’s not tell your father, yeah?” He smiles and plants kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and collarbone.

You gasp softly and lightly scratch at his back, helping undress himself and watching as he lays you back. He gives you a look, double checking that you want this. You nod and spread your legs, and he places his head between your thighs, lightly kissing as he slowly pulls off your panties.

You let out a soft hum as he starts to lap at your wet cunt, your arousal on his tongue making him groan against your clit.

“Kento, that feels good,” you whisper and card your fingers through his hair.

He hums in response and makes sure that you’re wet enough down there then reluctantly unlatches himself from your needy clit and hole. He unbuckles his pants and pulls off his pants and boxers in a clean swoop, searching for a condom and carefully putting it on, your eyes watching his every move, seeming a little too eager.

“You excited, princess?” He smiles and feels up your sides with his free hand while the other grinds the rubber against your soaked cunt for a makeshift lube.

You hum in agreement and nod. “You have no idea, I’ve always found you attractive, Kento.”

“Same goes for you, princess.”

He slowly slides himself in, pausing every few seconds to let you adjust to his size and to feel you stretch around him.

“You’re doing good, princess. I’m almost fully in.” He kisses your neck gently and traces your nipples to get you to loosen up a bit. You feel him bottom out inside you and let out a groan against your neck.

“God, Kento, you’re amazing.” You moan softly into his ear.

“Haven’t even got to the fun part and you’re praising me, princess?”

He smiles and slowly pulls his hips back almost all the way, then pushes back in, angling his hips to hit just right and make you moan out.

“There we are, princess, you’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, the praise making you a little dizzy as he continues to slowly thrust and graze just right against your g-spot.

Your relationship with your dad is a little rocky, so hearing praise and validation from his best friend makes you even more pliant under the blonde’s touch.

“I can take more now.” You moan softly into his ear and grasp at his shoulders as Nanami picks up the pace.

He constantly hits just right against your g-spot and brings you close to your orgasm really fast. He feels you tightening up and laughs through a moan.

“Close, princess?”

“Mhm, please, Kento, I need it…”

“Who am I to deny my girl?”

His girl. You are his girl. The words push you over the edge and you whine out his name in a sharp gasp as your orgasm crashes over you, more intense than any you’ve had with your shitty ex. You almost forgot that he was the reason you got to fuck Nanami.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the overstimulation that follows after you come down from your high, Nanami drilling himself a bit faster and chasing his own orgasm, whispering breathy praises to you as you whine and claw at his back.

“I know it’s a lot, princess, I just- fuck, I need to cum too. You’re doing so good for me, princess, just hold on- fuck- yeah, just scratch at my back, I’m- fuuck…” he groans and stills his hips as he cums into the rubber condom wrapped around his now-softening dick.

He slowly pulls out and removes the condom, laying next to you and holding you close.

“We need to clean ourselves up, princess,” he mumbles and kisses your forehead.

You groan and bury into him. “Five more minutesss…”

He chuckles and rubs your back, his free hand running through your hair as he whispers sweet praises and compliments to you.

“Fine, five more minutes…”

[skywalkr-nberrie]

I’m so done with the whining and groaning about the casting in TPM, like why not we get past the first glances, and focus on the story? Padmé was CANONICALLY a 14 yo girl, while Anakin was 9! It’s not that huge of an age gap, even if you “feel uncomfortable” with the visual aspect of it all. And at the same time, certain weirdos will think it’s more normal for this same 14 yo girl to have a crush on a 25 yo man, pushing 30?? Nah baby, what DOES make more sense, is for a kid to make a deep bond with another kid. And that’s exactly what happened with TPM Anidala.

Realistically, why would Padmé even acknowledge or give OW ‘special treatment’ beyond the gratitude of their business affiliation? She was only affiliated to the Jedi because of the Chancellor (at that time) Qui Gon and OW were assigned to her, to help aid the blockade in her homeworld. To Padmé, this is all only official business. However Padmé building a genuine connection to Anakin, a boy who has nothing to do with her work, her world, her position, and only sought to help her out of the kindness of his own soul and heart is a very valid reason to become attached to someone and feel a deep connection to them, that carried out for years to come in the future.

Anakin was interested in getting to know “Padmé”, he didn’t care that she was a “handmaiden” or a “farmer’s daughter.” Even after he found out she was a whole queen, Padmé was afraid that Anakin’s view of her would change, but it never did. He told her, he still likes her, if she still liked him (as a friend). Padmé was endeared by his genuine passion and optimistic view on life. Years later, Anakin is still that same kind and genuine kid, whom helped her in her times of deep despair but now she’s beginning to see him as a man. It was due to their already established deep bond/friendship/connection all those years that help take route in their love. It’s a gradual love story.

Nitpickers really gotta stop focusing on such trivial things like the casting ages “not adding up”, because It’s such an unserious complaint. Especially since in TPM, they’re not “in love” yet. They’re only two kids, forming their first real connection or bond to their fellow kindred spirit. Even Natalie P. says, that before meeting Anakin, Padmé was nothing but a “mask”. Completely void of her own desires and personality. She confirms that it was ANAKIN who broke her out of that repetitive cycle.

(Source: Star Wars Archives - 1999-2005)

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[awkward-tension-art]

Medical Marvel

I’ve had this idea for a series floating in my head for a while, so…consider this a potential preview? Possibly? if anyone wants a more original series?

Clones: Rex, Fives, Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Crosshair

Cw: Before order 66, Mostly fluff, some talk of corporate corruption, Padme is a good friend, a single mention of smut for Crosshair, Minors DNI

Not proofread I die like a MAN

Your lover had just returned to Coruscant from a mission in the outer ridges. He came to your science lab to visit you at work when one of your colleagues directed him to your office. Before he entered, he happened to overhear your conversation with Senator Amidala. 

“Athakam?” 

“No, too corporate.” You spoke to Padme through your holocom, “Also they’re still neutral.”

“Kirgalis?” Padme offered another medical company name. 

“No, they’ll raise the price 400 times more than it takes to manufacture.” You responded sounding frustrated. 

“You can’t keep turning down every company,” The senator had a slight laugh to her words, “You have to find someone to help you with this research. If it goes through and the medicine is successful, do you know how wonderful that would be?”

Medicine? Your clone lover didn’t know you were working on a type of medicine. You were performing research on clone health, but he had no idea the main goal was medicine.

“I know Padme…” It sounded like you had your face in your hands, “I just…I want to make it affordable for the clones. Medicine that can slow their aging to a normal rate, that should be affordable. Especially after everything the clones sacrifice for the Republic.”

“You’ll probably have many clones from different battalions confess their love for you because of this. You know that right?” Padme teased you.

“And all I want is the love of one specific clone,” You spoke about him so sweetly, “I hope he returns from the outer rims soon. I’ll surprise him with the research. Tell him how this medicine works. How he can live a normal life for a normal length of time.”

“Will you tell him how you named it after him?”

“Soon.” You sighed, “I need to get back to work, Padme. Thank you for letting me brainstorm.”

Rex

Will fall in love all over again

He's going to try and pretend he didn't hear the conversation, but clones can't lie for shit so you know something is up

That's when he will admit he overheard the conversation

"Mesh'la...What I heard...is it real?"

When you confirm it for him, he's going to pull you into a very deep and very passionate kiss

Normally he's more professional of course, but right now, he's so overcome with emotion

A medicine that gives him and his brothers a chance at a normal life after the war?

It's the greatest gift anyone could ever give him

He knows realistically that there is still an entire process of getting the medicine approved, talking with medical companies, manufacturing and a lot of moving parts that he has no idea goes into medical research

He's going to support you in every way possible, all while falling more and more in love with you

Fives

May genuinely open the door and want to marry you then and there

You, the love of his life, have researched and found a way to make medicine to slow a clones aging to a normal rate?

and you want it affordable for all of his brothers?

Fives is going to worship the ground where you walk

As soon as that door is open his lips are ON you

He doesn't even pretend like he doesn't know, he'll be admitting it between kisses

"Mesh'la...Cyare...I love you...I love you so much!"

He's not going to care if your fellow scientists see him damn near making out with you

He may be a bit optimistic on the whole...making medicine process. He'll think it'll be an easy process so you'll have to remind him that patience is important

Even if it takes a couple years, he's so proud and so happy

Echo (Clone Force 99)

More reserved in his happiness and his affection

He'll knock on the door, and pretend he didn't hear anything

He doesn't want to ruin the surprise! He knows you'll share with him everything when your more confident it'll work out

He is WELL AWARE what scientific advancement without reigns can do, so he's actually very relieved that your vetting your potential manufacturers

However, he is beyond happy that your so focused on helping the clones

Echo actually does well pretending to be surprised when you finally tell him about your research and the medicine your making

this man will actually die when you also tell him you've named your research after him

He'll be so honored, and just kiss you all over your face

Also great at keeping the research secret if you can't go public with it yet

Hunter

Like Echo, he hides the fact that he overheard

He doesn't act an differently, I'd say

He knows you want to surprise him, so he's going to wait, and pretend like you caught him off guard when you tell him everything

But you bet your ass he's fulling in love with you about this

He's damn near hypnotized by your compassion for clones

Plus? the idea of living a much longer life with you? the both of you being together to grow old at the same time?

His heart is RACING at the idea

However, unlike the others, I think Hunter knows to a degree that there is some level of danger to you once you go public with your research and medicine

Kamino doesn't like it when someone gives agency to their 'property'

Someone managed to find a way to override clones sped-up aging? Yea, Kamino may not be happy about that.

So...Hunter may actually become somewhat more protective once you tell him

Wrecker

He's going to ask what you were talking about, won't hide the fact that he heard

He's curious! he might not entirely 'get' the science of it, but he gets the gist of whats going on.

You researched and found a way to slow clones aging so they can live a normal life span? Yea he understands!

and he's so SO happy!

Ecstatic completely

Will go to the rest of his brothers and tell them the amazing news!

He's proud! and so in love!

Because of you, he and the rest of his brothers now have the choice to live their lives however they wish at the end of the war

They can have families, learn a trade, become something other than soldiers

and so can he! with you! you gave him more time with you!

Tech

You think he doesn't know what you've been researching?

He most likely already had a vague idea, even if you tried to hide it

While he is absolutely so proud and so happy, he's going to step in and help you now

He'll do some research on potential manufacturers, vet medical companies and find ways to make this medicine affordable for all clones

Tech is going to be very interested in the creation process

How did you begin this research? what components have you used? Where did you get the idea for such a protocol?

He'll listen to you talk about your research for hours

It doesn't even matter its for the clones! He's just so insanely proud and in love with you over such an achievement

The fact that this medicine can allow him to live a long life with you? someone who he adores? Thats a plus

Crosshair (Warning, there is slight smut)

He's not going to dance around the topic. He'll just tell you straight up that he heard the entire call

That doesn't mean he isn't happy! he is!

But now he needs to actually think about the future. what he wants besides being a soldier.

I mean, your research and medicine is giving him and his brothers an incredible chance at normal lives after the war!

It's going to hit him that 'yes, I can have a life that doesn't revolve around the battlefield' and that honestly scares him

But, despite that, he's going to grab your hand and keep you in your office so he could...show you how happy he is that you've done such an incredible thing

He knows you've worked hard, and to find out its for him and his brothers? it makes his heart flutter

and knowing you've named your research after him as well? Will fluster him

But, like Hunter, he knows that by being so selfless, you're a target for greedy companies that want your research

He knows how cutthroat competition for profits among corporations can be

Crosshair might actually step away from Clone Force 99 in order to act as a bodyguard for you

at least until he knows that you'll be safe. He loves you too much to be careless with your safety

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA For telling my partner I'd like to bring my ex into our relationship?

I'm copying this over from r/relationship_advice, because the responses are giving me the impression they don't really get what polyamory is & I'm hoping tumblr does. For reference: there's me (29M), my ex (28, Trans Man), and my partner (30M).

My ex and I were best friends in high school, went to the same college, & dated through the tail end of undergrad, for about a year and change. We ended things on very good terms, the only reason we broke up was a difference in life paths: I stayed in the city to get my Master's, he traveled constantly for his work (he's a sculptor who makes these huge custom multimedia pieces, they're genuinely some of the most beautiful things I've seen). We fell out of touch for the most part, but I'd see him popping up on social media occasionally, or he'd text me when he was in town and we'd hang out, along with some other school friends.

The last time I saw him before our present situation was about 3 1/2 years ago today. We went out for drinks, he came back to my place after, and we ended up hooking up. He stayed in town for about a week, and we hooked up a few more times, and then he left again. He sort of dropped off the face of the earth after that, but he'd always been pretty sporadic, especially when he had a big project, so I didn't think much about it.

Not long after that, I met my current partner. He's truly one of my favorite people in the whole world; he's incredibly thoughtful, and earnest, and passionate about his morals & principles (he's an environmental lawyer), and more than anything, he's someone I never feel like I have to pretend with. He asked for my number, we had our first date a few days later, and ended up staying awake the entire night just talking about anything and everything, so we went ahead and got 5am pancakes and called it our second date. We've been together for a little over 3 years now, we've been moved in together for about 2, and while we've had the occasional fight or rough patch I can definitely say I love this man, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with him.

So, the big change.

About a year ago (~2 years since seeing my ex, my partner and I have lived together for about a year at this point), my partner and I are having a night in, and there's a knock at the door. It's my ex, looking absolutely ragged, holding a 15 month old baby. As in, a baby who was conceived 24 months before then. Yep, it's pretty much what you're guessing. I let them both in, we had a sit down in the kitchen, and he told me everything he'd been doing in the past 2 years in between me cussing him out for keeping it all from me in the first place. I really do want to keep this as short as possible, so to give you the super condensed version:

She's my daughter, he's completely sure about that, there's no one else he's been with the math is even close to correct for

The second he found out he was pregnant, he more or less panicked. He's got a whole Thing about feeling like he's irresponsible/not a "real" adult, and this really set him off, so telling me felt like "admitting to fucking both our lives up" at the time. His OB/GYN said some pretty awful shit to him about not being more careful as a trans man too, which just made it all even worse

Because of all that, he'd genuinely planned to just never tell me I have a daughter & raise her completely on his own, but a few things compounded to force his hand:

The birth was really rough on him, and his recovery was slow enough he was having trouble going back to work, to the point where money was getting tight

On top of that, our daughter has celiac disease, and between paying out of pocket for blood tests & spending more on baby food she's safe to eat, things got desperate enough he went and took out a really dodgy loan from a scummy payday company

He was at our door because all of this had finally spiraled to a point where he'd lost his apartment, they'd been sleeping in his car for about a week, and he couldn't think of anything else to do

I think I was probably feeling every human emotion in existence at the same time through all of this, but the thing I remember most from the whole conversation was the way my partner kept drifting right back to the baby, and the soft way he looked at her. We put my ex & daughter up in a hotel room for the night and told him we needed to talk, and we'd discuss our options in the morning, but I think even then I kind of knew what our answer was going to be.

Sure enough, for the last year and a half we've been co-parenting our little girl, all three of us. We didn't want to juggle who's got her, or force my ex to find a place to stay, so we've turned my partner's home office into our daughter's room, and redid most of the downstairs layout so my ex could move into an actual bedroom, rather than just sleep on our pullout couch in perpetuity. We finally succeeded in convincing him that rest and recovery was more important than trying to contribute to the house finances right away, and it's been magical watching all that stress and terror slowly fall off him. It's like he's a little more alive again every time I look.

Which is where my question comes in.

I'd like to restate, I love my partner 100%. None of this changes that whatsoever. If I ask, and he says no, that will be the end of the discussion for me completely. But I have eyes. My ex is, objectively, a very attractive man. I know we work well together, and I have to admit I'm very curious to see where that same chemistry could lead now that he's not on the other side of the country half the time. I've also been noticing these little moments between him and my partner. Nothing I'd consider crossing a line, but I've caught my partner checking my ex out several times, as well as vice versa, and they get along remarkably well. Sometimes I'll go to enter a room, and see them both sitting there laughing and chatting and playing with our baby, and I'll just hang back to watch because it makes me so happy.

Add to all that, we're pretty deeply ingrained in each other's lives now. My partner and I don't often go out on dates alone anymore, but the last few times we did it felt as if my ex was missing from the table. We watched a movie together last night, and my ex sat in the middle of us with his feet in my partner's lap and his head on my chest, and it felt just as natural as my arm on my partner's shoulder. It's not about just having sex with him, and it's not that I'd want to invite any old person into our relationship. I know we already all love each other, and I think there's potential for that to become romantic between the two of us and my ex.

It just feels as though we're all holding our breath, waiting for someone else to say it first. My ex certainly isn't going to bring it up when he's living rent free in "our" home (it's his home too, but he doesn't seem to see it like that yet). My partner grew up sheltered enough that I'm not sure he's ever heard of polyamory at all, so he's not going to bring it up. That just leaves me.

My problem is, if I'm wrong about what I think I'm seeing, or if I bring it up the wrong way, I can't take it back. I don't want my partner to feel insecure or betrayed, I don't want my ex to feel pressured or put on the spot, and I definitely don't want my daughter to lose any of us, which I know could happen if we aren't all on the same page. Or worse, if we do all date and it goes badly.

Should I just keep this whole thing secret? Is that even worse? Would I be the asshole for opening this can of worms on everyone else?

Help!

[blues-valentine]

I think some people that are so convinced Tashi doesn’t love Art are so fixated in portraying her as a heartless manipulative woman that only cares about him in the sense of Tennis and that can all be true but she also does love him in her own twisted self absorbing ways, implying the opposite feels offensive to Tashi who isn’t the type to submit herself to a relationship of 15 years with someone she could barely tolerate.

She is absolutely living vicariously through Art as a Tennis player, but you also get the sense of intimacy and small moments that Tashi is Art’s wife and partner, not just his coach. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Them cuddling on the coach could easily be them on any Sunday morning when their relationship isn’t at odds. And you can see Tashi smiling a little in that moment.

Their relationship was also build on a genuine interest — they didn’t get together right after Tashi’s injury since she was in a vulnerable place. They got together years later on a date where Tashi was like a flustered 20ish year old that allows him to see some of her defenses down. Tashi also asks Art if he’s still in love with her (as she is now and not the fierce tennis player he once knew) because here’s the thing about Tashi, she says she doesn’t want to be loved but later asks him if he’s still in love with her cause she wants love not matter how hard she convinces herself she doesn’t — and Art is someone that can give her that feeling of this unconditional love. Someone pointed out Art is the person she has vulnerable scenes with and I believe he does bring that out of her even if she resists that to put on a stronger facade. As opposed to Patrick, that usually lights up her impulsive side. Art is more like the steady calm.

(Which is why Tashi and Patrick would’ve never worked in a relationship because they’re both too impulsive and he would’ve never allow her to control him and his career like she wanted).

I believe Tashi’s real true love is Tennis, but she does love Art. I think she’s full of bullshit saying she would leave Art if he stops playing because I think she would never leave him. She would’ve ages ago. Their relationship feels odd because we are only seeing their marriage falling apart because Art doesn’t want to play anymore and has lost its passion for it but makes you wonder how their marriage would normally be in all the good days where Art had a passion for Tennis.

And a lot of people be like “but she cheated on him with Patrick twice!” but she can love Art and still pursue the thrill Patrick provides. First, Tashi has never been implied to be a constant cheater, it’s just Patrick (in throuple we trust). This people are all morally questionable but a thing that is common about Tashi’s encounters with Patrick is that she’s always on a bad place. The first time in Atlanta was after she saw Anna (the girl she played with and won the same day she meet both Art and Patrick) is in the first place without a rival, a place that could’ve been hers if she was still playing — she sees Patrick being a loser (affectionate) and is low key resentful of Art because he’s being a successful tennis player so they bond over that, about the feeling of being a failure. And then later, Tashi is in another bad place because Art doesn’t want to play Tennis anymore and if he stops playing then her link to Tennis is also over. The game with Patrick is her last chance to make him love Tennis again. And when she sleeps with Patrick, she’s frustrated because she’s seeing how Art lost confidence in the game and so she goes there to ensure Art doesn’t lose. She tells Art she would leave him if he loses, but then goes to beg Patrick to ensure that doesn’t happen. And that sealed the deal for me. Yes, she could also be doing all that just because she doesn’t want to lose since she’s basically living through Art — but I think that’s a very one dimensional take because Patrick asked her in the original screenplay if Art winning would make her love him again, to which she responds she never stopped loving him. Because, even if he loses the game, she would love him. And one thing she has in common with Pat is their love for Art.

Like, Tashi resents Art because he is living the life she should be having as a professional tennis player, that’s what Patrick was referring to when he told her she hated Art, and while she hates being seem as just the wife and not the tennis player herself, she also hates the fact she would never truly leave him. Let Tashi have feelings, not everything is so one dimensional.