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7nuh · 19 hours ago

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WAS IT 'CASUAL' WHEN...? — TWST 1ST YEARS

Headcanons on the 'casual' things you do with him that made him wish that there was something more between you.

CW 𓂃 sfw, gn!reader, reader is implied to fit in Deuce's clothes in his part, pining

CHARAS 𓂃 Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, and Sebek Zigvolt

AN 𓂃 mostly* edited now 😎👍

ACE TRAPPOLA — you slept in the same bed?

Ramshackle isn't exactly known for having the best facilities or furniture, and that is a fact Ace has to make peace with whenever he gets kicked out by Riddle. It's always a little too chilly at night and the floors still creak beneath his feet. Even with a makeover, half of the beds are broken and that stiff couch downstairs is your next best bet at getting some semblance of sleep.

You insisted you really didn't mind sharing a bed at all and Ace took you up on your offer. In his words, "if you say so then!" Just create an invisible partition down the middle and the two of you should be fine. Sure, yeah, that'll be infinitely more comfortable than the couch, and Ace absolutely agrees. He repeats the thought to himself over and over again— this is supposedly the better alternative, isn't it?

Yeah, totally. He tries to convince himself that it's really not a big deal for him to be inches away from you at night and feel your warmth spreading through the sheets. God, you'd think he's a weirdo if you woke up and caught him staring right now, but he could always twist it into a dumb joke about your sleeping face looking like an ogre. Consequently, he would have to watch your face twist in annoyance and pretend he wasn't watching every rise and fall of your chest. He would rather lose his magic entirely than admit the ugly truth and make himself vulnerable to you.

Ace does realize he's being embarrassingly sappy and romantic, and he's disgusted at himself for these thoughts, but he can't help it. He can't change the fact your lips look so soft and your eyelashes are so pretty. This is freaking him out so much more than it should. Does this really mean nothing to you? Do really only see him as a friend? Fine, then the two of you are just friends sharing a bed then!

It's really nothing! Ace was the one who joked about it months ago, after all. But things (and his feelings) have changed and he cannot ignore that. Back then it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but now it is and he cannot calm his heart down no matter how hard he tries.

You're right there. It's not the first time he had to share a bed with someone but it's different now because it's you. He did the math and the two of you are only 10 inches apart. Ace almost reaches for you in his weakest moment until he remembers that the two of you are supposedly just two friends sharing a bed. You're doing him a favor by sheltering him for the night, that's all.

Ace retracts his hand right away at the last minute. He might have as well taken the goddamn couch (lest either of you wake up in each other's arms).

DEUCE SPADE — he lent his clothes?

You came here with next to nothing. You had exactly one change of clothes and pocket lint for change, so Deuce, being the righteous and honorable student that he is, decided to lend you some of his clothes for the meantime. It's what a good friend would do! It's a temporary arrangement that would last only until Crowley spares enough change for you to buy another set of uniforms.

But this arrangement drags on for so long even when you have a functional closet and multiple sets of better-fitting clothes. Deuce never really noticed until recently that a third of your (albeit very limited) wardrobe actually belongs to him. But whenever you tug on his sleeves for his latest sweater, he doesn't have the heart to tell you no.

When he went home during break, his mom even noticed that certain sweaters and shirts had gone missing. "I left them at the college," he tells her as to not worry her. It's technically the truth— it's back with you in the college (and you're probably wearing them right now; the mental image is enough to fluster him all of the sudden when it never did before). He has to get them back eventually since those clothes are his. He's sure you wouldn't mind? Right?

Simply asking for them back is the difficult part for Deuce. You're there in front of him wearing one of his older shirts that fit snugly around your figure and he's at a loss for words. It's worn down and outright hideous as hell but the very first thought that comes to mind is that you look good in it.

Ah, yeah. You walk around campus on non-school days wearing his clothes 1/3rd of the time and nobody else knows that those jackets and shirts and sweaters and button-ups are all his. You make even the ugliest ones look good, or maybe it's because you're the wearer and you always looked good to him? Do his eyes need to be checked...? Deuce is tortured by these thoughts while merrily go about your day. You're laughing at something stupid that Grim said and he can't hear anything else. There's a fight in the courtyard but he can't see anything else. There's a midterm tomorrow but he can't think of anything else. You're too distracting.

When you finally do remember to return a shirt or two, Deuce tells you there's really no need to return them. He insists that they're better off with you, but you laugh and remind him that you're no longer the same pathetic charity case you were at the start of the year.

The truth is, your scent still lingers on recently returned shirts. It's the closest he'll get to being skin-to-skin with you, and Deuce is supposed to ignore that but he cannot. Or maybe he's the only one making this weird for the two of you because it doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest (and he's bothered by that).

But when Deuce looks at the recently returned shirts in his hands, he hopes he has a chance. He hopes you think of him as much as he thinks of you. He hopes the odds of him not actually liking you after all make your guts churn and set butterflies in your chest at the same time. He hopes he isn't the only one yearning for used shirts, lingering scents, and ghost touches. But at the same time, you've only ever asked these kinds of favors from him... Deuce doesn't want to assume anything, but a blush creeps upon his cheeks all the same and he continues to hope for more.

JACK HOWL — you played with his ears and tail?

Beastmen weren't a thing back in your world, so seeing them regularly made you morbidly curious about their animalistic features. Jack was easily the best candidate to satisfy your intrusive thoughts because just who else could you ask about this? Leona wasn't exactly an option and Ruggie might rope you into some scheme of his. And Jack owed you a favor, after all, so this is what you decided to ask of him.

Jack's ears twitched— did he hear you correctly? His face scrunches up in confusion because you barely knew each other for you to be asking something like this. How could you ask something so personal from him? It's in your innocently eager expression that he realizes what's going on... you just didn't know. Fine, it should mean nothing to you and thus he agrees to let you pet his tail and ears for five seconds. Maximum.

It's supposed to be a one time thing but he finds him involuntarily offering up his tail whenever you look him like that. He's not even sure how it got to this point. After all, there are romantic connotations of having your tail petted by someone else and... nevermind. Ruggie and Leona have started simultaneously teasing him over it the very moment they caught wind of this peculiar arrangement. It doesn't help that Jack's tail is particularly sensitive and reactive, but he keeps a straight face no matter how much it embarrasses him.

Jack doesn't understand why you're so fascinated by his tail and ears because there are so many others just like him. However, he supposes it's not an entirely terrible feeling, though, to have your fingers absentmindedly rake across his tail and hair as the two of you study. It's relaxing, even, but he won't tell you that. Jack will never tell you that it gives him goosebumps all over and makes him shiver whenever you play with his tail. Or that he's begun wondering what it would be like to have your hands elsewhere, or for him to touch you in similar ways in return.

He doesn't understand why he craves your company but doesn't question it either. All he knows is that your hands are so soft and gentle and that he likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile in satisfaction. And when you hum a soft tune as the gap between the two of you closes, he wonders if he's the only one feeling this tension.

"Again?" Jack huffs. The pretext of this being a silly favor has been long forgotten. He should probably tell you soon that you shouldn't be doing this soon, but you just look so pleased with yourself when the two of settle down in a lesser-known corner of the library. The routine persists, the cycle continues. Hours later, the both of you have gone through multiple bags of chips, two movies on his laptop, and his tail is now comfortably curled around your abdomen as you read a book and he tends to his beloved cactus.

Again? Jack silently asks himself whenever he sees your face in a crowd. Could the two of you spend hours in a comfortable silence while the unsaid implications haunt him? He's started to ask himself— were you just playing dumb at this point or just plain stupid? Or what if you had known all along and the two of you were just dancing around it?

EPEL FELMIER — you kissed him?

Epel eventually learns to use the way others perceive him to his advantage; there's strength in appearing to be weak and striking when the iron is hot. Still, he couldn't help but wish to be seen for his talents and strength instead of his beauty at the first glance. The first assumption everyone makes of him, for god's sake, is that he's a fragile little thing from a rich family, and, quite frankly, he's sick of it.

So he's secretly delighted when none of his charms worked on you and you yank him by the ear for even attempting. A few curse words and rough shoves later, both of you are on the floor, grappling and wrestling against each other. The two of you are laughing so hard and swearing so loudly that you'll probably wake up the rest of Pomefiore at this rate, but neither of you care. It's just the two of you right now grasping at each other like your life depended on it.

It's a nice change of pace to be openly exchanging insults instead of restraining himself. He enjoys the comfortable rhythm the two of you share— from all the brawls and the bantering and the hugs and to the kisses on the cheek. Yes, kisses. They started as simple thank you's after a few favors here and there, and just one of them is enough to make a mess out of Epel for weeks. Better yet, you only seem to be showering him with more and more of your attention and he relishes in it.

Ah, things are finally working out for him! He found someone he could confide in and he's sure that there's a spark between the two of you. By the end of the year, he might have someone to bring home and brag about to his relatives—

All the momentum halts when he sees you across the hall granting the rest of your friends the same levels of affection. From all the brawls to the bantering to the hugs and the kisses, none of those were ever solely his to take delight upon. It doesn't matter that he opened up to you about all his fears and insecurities because he was never special. You were just the kind of person who got along and felt comfortable with everyone around you, but Epel hates that he has no one to blame but himself. He willingly walked your warmth but it was never his to take.

It finally dawns upon him that you have never seen him in a romantic light and that was why you were so comfortable around him. In retrospect, the bond you two shared was more sibling-like than anything— and believe him when he says he's incredibly grateful that the two of you were that close —but it doesn't make it hurt any less to know that your affections never carried any romantic intentions after he had pinned for you for so long.

Even when he takes a step back, you're cruel in a roundabout way by continuing to be so kind and loving towards him. How was Epel supposed to make sense of your relationship after realizing he misunderstood you...?

And he also hates to admit this, but his self-confidence takes a huge blow from this. Epel genuinely thought he could be loved for who he was based on the time you spent together. It gnaws at him and eats him alive to finally know the truth, and sometimes he wishes he never found out at all.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT — you wrote him love letters?

So, Sebek asked (demanded) to be penpals...

It's all because Lilia told him it would be a good exercise of diplomacy, he insisted. As the young master's bodyguard, he will have to be as courteous as possible even in unpleasant company. He also rationalized, admittedly partly because of you, that forging bonds with magicless humans may be a worthwhile endeavor after all! It's all rather suspicious (and you suspect his real intentions have something to do with your friendship with Malleus), but Sebek has never been one to lie about his intentions. If anything, the popular opinion was that he's a little too honest and should learn a thing or two about holding back.

There's something very unconventional in sending handwritten letters in this day and age of modern technology, but also something very romantic and fantastical— much like the many fictional knights he had read about. It helps a lot that he's not directly confronted by the fact you are very much a magicless human who shouldn't be in NRC whenever he spills out his heart's contents unto multiple pages. It was a way for him to release his frustrations, celebrate his achievements, and talk about the dull, little things thats happened in his day-to-day life to someone who listened.

And listen you did. Turns out, when you're not subjected to his 1000 decibel shouting, Sebek is a rather earnest guy who worked hard and acknowledged others who also worked equally as hard no matter their disposition. To say the least, you understand why Lilia found it so entertaining to tease him.

It completely flies over his head that you had been flirting with him for months through these letters. Your everyday interactions with each other had been completely normal, so how was he supposed to notice?! It takes multiple rereads and many late-night discussions with the other Diasomnia dormers to decode and understand all the double entendres and hidden 'i love you's' in each and every letter. It was so needlessly difficult, but Lilia laughs in his face and pats him at the back for a job well-done.

"There's no way," he thinks to himself late at night and finds himself doubting Lilia's claims for once. But when Sebek steals a glance in your direction and you smile back in return, he's never felt weaker in his knees. You're absolutely and undeniably magic-less... but somehow you had casted a spell that made his chest tighten and shut him up. He hadn't even realized how much time he was spending with you and thinking about you when he wasn't.

Except nothing has changed in-person. You're acting like you hadn't meticulously hidden your affections for him in those letters, and he was starting to seriously doubt all of it. Yeah, were you event smart enough to pull off all that? As some magic-less human?

Actually... Sebek realizes that you are capable of outsmarting him after getting to know you much better through those letters. He's never been one to deny where credit it was due. Now, Sebek's just deeply ashamed that he failed to accurately assess your character before making judgements based on superficial traits. He knows better than anyone that you're witty, charming, brave, kind, beautiful, ambitious—

Oh no.

Sebek simply explodes on the spot once he realizes that he had been oblivious to his own feelings for you too. He had thoroughly examined every aspect of this conundrum except from within. Quite embarrassing from an esteemed knight of the prince of nocturnal fae to be this slow, really.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #ace trapola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #i hope my favorite isn't too obvious el oh el

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nonexistent-alfa · 2 days ago

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Kim Roksoo/Cale Henituse is such a comfort character. He's to me what Yoo Jonghyuk was to Kim Dokja. And I love Yoo Ryeo Han-nim for creating a character like him.

Kim Roksoo is all about resilience and tenacity. He's the living embodiment of how you shouldn't give up no matter how hard life gets. His life was downright horrible in every possible way. Just when you'd think it couldn't get worse, it does. He was finally starting to see hope in that lonely life when all hope was lost in the apocalypse. What could be more devastating? But he found a sliver of hope in his saviour and made reaching him his goal. Even though his ability wasn't suited for the battlefield he still signed himself up for the Body side to stay closer to Lee Soo Hyuk.

When his second family left him, it would have been so easy for him to just give up and let himself die. It wouldn't have taken much effort. Yet he persevered just because of the promise he made to Lee Soo Hyuk.

No matter how cruel life was to him, he always persevered. He was orphaned at an early age, abused by his guardian, hunted down by otherworldly entities (though he didn't remember that part), everybody he tried to get close to left him, right before he could make something out of his life the apocalypse hit them, his entire team was annihilated right in front of his eyes. It just kept getting worse and worse.

However, it's because he endured it and moved forward that he was able to achieve happiness. If he had given up somewhere along the way, had he never lived to be 36 years old as Kim Roksoo, he would never have been transmigrated into the body of the 18 years old Cale Henituse and gotten a second chance at life. He would never have gotten to meet the new people he calls his family. Nor would he have been able to meet his old family members, Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo, again. All of this was possible because he lived.

The key takeaway of Kim Roksoo's life and journey is that life will get better if you just keep living it. If it's not looking good now, maybe the point hasn't come yet. So don't be disheartened and give up on life. Because, as Lee Soo Hyuk said, being alive is the best.

#lcf #lout of count��s family #trash of the count's family #tcf novel #tcf #cale henituse #cale #kim rok soo

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rindreamery · 3 days ago

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in another life, i would be yours.

types of tragic love tropes with blue lock men.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku

itoshi rin as your unrequited love.

who could never find the right time. rin was always one missed call away, one minute too late, and always one step behind his brother. too many bouquets would lay discarded in the trash, and too many times the phrase, “i love you,” would lay at the tip of his tongue— words he would never dare to say to you. and he wonders, during his sleepless nights, if he’d be the one to hold your heart if he had acted quicker.

but it’s an awfully selfish thought, and the guilt that eats at him feels worse than the love he feels for you. he feels filthy for wanting someone who could never be his. so he forfeits for the first time in his life. he doesn’t mind hurting if it means that his brother is happy.

itoshi sae as your first love.

who was good to you, but nothing more. sae was a classic and naive, first love of yours; the type of love that you kept coming back to because you couldn’t let go, because you didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like. your perception was an idealized and skewed version of him, one that didn’t actually exist. he was sweeter in your mind— remembered your favorite things, carried your bags, and walked you home— but he could never find the balance between soccer and you. though he wasn’t perfect, you loved him and that was all that mattered to you.

so you foolishly gave your heart to him, only to receive it back in pieces. it’s been years, but there are times when you still think of him. a part of you believes that he never truly gave all of your heart back to you— a part of you will always be with him, and that’s a pain you’ll live with for the rest of your life.

isagi yoichi as your forbidden love.

who could never be yours. yoichi’s presence was one you long grew to be familiar with, and one you often found comfort in. he understood you, in a way that you felt that no one else truly could, and he saw you for who you were. not a model, not just a pretty face— but you, in your entirety. your love was limited to longing and lingering gazes shared across the room, tender touches that would ghost over your hands as you pass by one another, and warm embraces shared behind closed doors. he was that someone you wanted to call, “home.”

but the reality is, “home” would never be that warm for you. the fantasy you had built in your mind, where only you and him exists, is shattered by the glimmering ring that reminds you of its presence. a reminder of the love that would never exist between you two.

nagi seishiro as your "what-if" love.

who will always remain as a, “what if?” nagi is someone who plagues your thoughts, more than he should. you think of him when you go out on dates, you think of him when you watch rom coms, you think of him when you see other couples on the street. you fantasize about him in every romantic aspect of your life, almost as if to compensate for the fact that he isn’t yours. and you’ve come to terms that he never will be.

so you’re left with questions of what could've been. what if you gave him your confession, what if you hadn’t set him up with your friend, what if he could love you the way you want to be loved? — questions that will remain unanswered.

mikage reo as your compelled love.

who you know is good for you. reo is as good as it gets, he’s the ideal man; he takes you out on romantic dates, dedicates himself wholeheartedly to you, and never fails to remind you just how much you mean to him. he’s constant in his love for you— what more could you ask for? but your heart is selfish, and it seems that even perfect isn’t enough for you. your love for him is filled with forced smiles and a reminder that you could never find someone like him. so you stay.

you do think you loved him at one point. but it’s hard to ignore your want for a love that would spark a burning want in you. his love is as good as it can get, and yet you rarely find yourself yearning for it. your heart has faltered, unlike his.

oliver aiku as your ludic love.

who thrives from the push-and-pull. oliver was someone that you knew you were supposed to stay away from; he was the type of person who was just out of reach, never meant to be had, and the type of person who always pulls away whenever something starts to feel too serious. but he gets away with it because he’s frustratingly charming. and you’re frustratingly stubborn, never wanting to fully give in to his advances. in his eyes, your love is a challenge he has yet to conquer. for some reason, that’s exactly what makes your heart race.

as long as his game continues, you’re in it. you know you should crave for something steady, a love that doesn’t keep you on your toes. but you don’t want it— not when this kind of love keeps pulling you deeper, even when you know it’s more fleeting than it is real.

note. i could write a happier version... i could also just keep it at this 🤭

#blue lock #blue lock angst #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader

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ghousttm · 3 days ago

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no because i created in my head like a whole interaction between the two in a void

let me try to remember what i imagined

(spoilers on PvP civilization and Parkour Civilization btw)

ok so i dont give half enough of a fuck to make this into proper dialogue but

it went along the lines of

pvp evbo admiring how many people believe in and rely on pk evbo, and how good he is at parkour

and how in pvp civ nobody even believes in him, and maybe he could've done better in pk civ, he could've lived better - he could totally pull off a good Parkour and get himself a mansion to live in the rest of his life

but pk evbo is like. But in pk civ you're not actually free.. no matter whay rank you're in and how good your Parkour skills are. Heck - he had to become god to have some peace of mine

"so I guess I'll never have a peaceful life then-.." pvp evbo sighed as he hugged his knees, in a more annoyed tone than anything - but also unmeasurably tired.. for such a small body, to be so exhausted, it's almost pitiful

"hey.. cheer up man" pk evbo placed a hand on his shoulder, a small smile on his face "your series, and your journey, isn't even over yet! You'll get that ending eventually. I'm sure."

"hah- thanks, but.. I'm not even good pvp. It feels like I've still got such a long way to go- but I'm already falling behind compared to.. well- nobody. But if I dont get good enough soon enough, my friends will get hurt! and I'll never escape--"

"-woah woah! hey! calm down. breathe.."

"..seems.. like you've gone through a lot,"

"I dunno, dying like a gazillion times isn't that much."

"oh wow- I've only died like. Twice."

pvp evbo shrugs "You get used to it.. sorta... "

"... wether you're ready for it or not.. you're probably gonna find yourself having to improvise and keep going, if not for the sake of others, for yourseld.. I've had two second chances, and you seem to have an unlimited supply of chances - still, dont let it all go to waste."

....

maybe smth smth

pvp evbo telling pk evbo "you're able to live your own life in relative comfort - you shouldn't have let that 'master' tell you what to do! 'Saving the world' isn't your problem.."

i dunno

i think they both should be put in the same room and given building blocks to play with

The two Evbos meet. (Silly little sketch)

I always saw parkour!Evbo to be early to mid 20s-ish, while PvP!Evbo to be around mid to late teens (15+). The differences between the two is so big for me. Pkciv!Evbo is very confident and becomes god while pvp!Evbo is literally a child who is used as a tool of sacrifice. Evbo is good at making these characters different but still distinctly himself.

#evbo #pkciv #pvpciv #parkour civilization #pvp civilization

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goingmerryfics · 2 days ago

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Reader fails at flirting - Mihawk, & Crocodile

Content: SFW content, clumsiness, ranting, & bad pick up lines

Notes* Thank you for your patience while I struggled through my writer’s block! This was a request from a looong time ago but I no longer have that ask to reply to it seems. I believe Smoker was also supposed to be here, but I’m just going to upload this and take it easy while I get back into the writing spirit :)

Mihawk

Not the type for talking, attempts at flirting with Mihawk usually end up with long, awkward silences that you feel the need to fill, which makes you sound even more awkward as you bounce from topic to topic

He was always the first to show up at the Warlord meetings, and since you worked in the building, it gave you an opportunity to chat him up as you pour the champagne for each guest

He only barely glances at you every now and then as you try to get his attention, ranting on about whatever comes to mind in the moment and asking him questions that he doesn’t respond to

You always end up feeling defeated at the end of the day. Always left with the heavy feeling that he just doesn’t like you, no matter what you say

Eventually you decide that you can’t keep pestering him. Next time there’s a meeting, you decide not to shoot into chatter with him when he arrives

You keep your head down, silence in the room. You can feel his eyes on your back as you walk around, watering the plants and doing whatever you can do to stay in his presence without having to talk to him

And then,

“Is something wrong?”

You’re embarrassed by how fast you look back at him. It’s the first time he’s addressed you. You, stuttering like mad, tell him that nothing is wrong

“You didn’t greet me today.”

He sounds… Disappointed. You ask him why he never responded, adding that you thought you had been annoying him, and that you weren’t even sure he knew who you were

Then he says your name- your full one. He starts to repeat information you’ve told him about yourself, a mix of information that you had thrown at him over all the different times you’ve met him. It touches your heart that he remembers it all

“I know who you are very well, actually. If you gave me a moment to think of my answers, I would have been able to share. You speak too quickly.”

He explains it so bluntly, but now that you think about it- you didn’t really give him much time to think before you moved on to the next subject. So the awkward silences were just Mihawk trying to put his words together

He urges you to take a seat beside him, that way he can finally give you the responses you were looking for

“You should try to let the other person respond if you’re going to flirt with them.”

He says it almost scoldingly, but he’s smirking at you

Crocodile

As a citizen of Alabasta, Crocodile was someone that many people looked up to. But only you were in semi-regular contact with him

Every now and then, he would come dine at your workplace and every single time, you were his server. Your co-workers were always too intimidated to potentially get something wrong- the man was intimidating, after all -so that meant that anytime he was in, you were the one to face him

He always ordered the same thing when he came, which made it easier after a while. You’d already be walking up to his table with the wine he liked while his food was in the oven before he’d even made his order

The problem was that your ridiculous crush on him made you clumsy as hell

The first few times you were safe- the tripping over your feet and dropping plates had only happened out of his view, where it was your co-workers that would laugh or chastise you for not being careful enough

But then it had caught up to you in the worst way

You were taking the wine to his table and, as always, you engaged him in some casual conversation. Something about the weather or asking how his casino was doing

He would always answer shortly. Something of a grunt that either sounded positive or negative, or a short answer of ‘good’ or ‘eh’

You were too busy staring at him and waiting for an answer to notice that you were completely missing the glass as you poured his wine

And in turn, he was too surprised at your new, sudden carelessness to answer

Eventually you’d noticed as the wine started to spill onto the floor. Crocodile got up from his chair as you scrambled to get the spill contained to just the tablecloth, but also trying to be careful of all the glass on the table

The white tablecloth would be stained for sure

Crocodile just watched the whole time, holding his cigar between his fingers

The next few times went similarly. You’d bring the wine, serve his food, and give the bill- and every time, you would do something wrong.

Forgetting his silverware, serving him the wrong plate, etc.

At least he always tipped you nicely. That never changed

You’d been so determined to make sure everything went right that the next time he walked in, you tried to be extra careful. You brought him his wine and paused, noticing his hand covering his glass.

“Just water today.”

Three simple words that threw you off. Why? What was wrong with the wine? Was it you?

Your on your way back from getting his ice water when a co-worker steps back, bumping into you from behind and sending you off balance, tipping the serving tray and sending Crocodile’s ice-cold water all over him

Your co-worker all but bails out of the dining hall, leaving you slack jawed, staring at Crocodile’s ruined suit. You can’t even muster up the bravery to apologize to the man as the ice cubes slip off of him and onto the floor

Then he laughs. It’s a loud, booming laugh that seems even louder while the room is dead silent. You’re sure you’re going to die there either from embarrassment or his wrath

“I’ve never seen someone trip over themselves so much just to get my attention. It’s flattering.” He says, smirking down at you while you’re still frozen in place. Then he asks you what time your shift is over, and you answer that you’re done in an hour

He tells you to make sure you’re here in 3 hours, that way he can dry off and have a proper conversation with you

You’re left there, confused, wondering if it’s going to be a date or a murder when he returns

#one piece #harleywritesop #hwop #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #op crocodile #crocodile one piece #op mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk one piece #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk

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dilf-docs · 10 hours ago

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X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in; but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your shirt's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carved a whole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

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factsilike · 23 hours ago

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I'm sorry, but this is.. such an incorrect post on Lan Qiren's character I don't even know where to begin.

Lan Wangji did not defend a "demonic cultivator" who caused deaths in their society (WWX never even used demonic cultivation, he used gui dao). He defended a man who's been relentlessly persecuted and slandered for protecting the innocent, the innocents those bloodthirsty and revenge obsessed cultivation world wanted to kill, for daring to be better and more powerful than them. WWX was not in the wrong for defending himself against those genocidal maniacs, and Lan Wangji knew that, hence why he protected him. And why he was the only one to do so. And he did not deserve to be whipped for that.

And Lan Qiren was there on the night of that Pledge. He also was one of the people leading a siege against the innocent Wen Remnants in the Burial Mounds, and the people who slaughtered them. And the book clearly paints him as the one who is completely in the wrong for that.

As for the rules.... your words implying that 'old Asian people' are only ever abusive in their strictness? Playing into stereotypes to defend abusive behaviour? Really? "Oh Asian people are just like that, guess that makes it okay that all these adults feel comfortable whipping children! It's just the setting you see, corporal punishment was the norm then!"

To say that Lan Wangji is exactly like his father and hence these rules are there to enforce his behaviour....what even? We are never told in the novel what crime exactly Madame Lan was imprisoned for, but it is very much implied that she should not have had to spend the rest of her days locked up for it.

To think that Lan Wangji would enforce such a fate upon WWX, have you even read the novel? Lan Wangji lost control and kissed WWX once yes, but he also deeply regrets it and never touches WWX against his will again. He beats himself up for it, and moves on. In fact, he flat out knocked himself out when he was drunk so that he wouldn't do anything untoward towards WWX, even WWX was the one who kissed him. You think that is the behaviour of a man who "needs" rules to keep him in check? Implying that all Lans are what, savage beasts who will go wild on others without rules? Rules like "do not keep pets" help them how, exactly?

Not only do you have a deep misconception of Lan Qiren's character, but also Lan Wangji's. And WWX's too, for that matter. Please read the book again.

As for the incense burner dream, I cannot emphasize this enough- it is a fantasy. A dream that never happened in real life. Partners in sexual relationships have fantasies about each other all the time, it is normal. And the dream is not something that actually affected WWX in reality, because it is not something LWJ would ever actually do in reality. Also, LWJ wasn't even the one dreaming about that, WWX was the one who goaded him and gave him said fantasy fuel when they were messing around in the bushes. It was not something 15 year old Lan Wangji was fantasizing about at all, rather their adult selves (in a perfectly healthy and happy established relationship) were discovering their mutual con non-con kink through that dream.

Do you remember the classroom scene? The scene very famous for showing Lan Qiren's blatant favouritism and classism? Notice how Lan Qiren has his prized nephew show upto class to show him off to the other disciples. Notice how Lan Qiren praises Lan Wangji for giving a correct answer, and rebukes WWX for the same thing by saying he is already expected to know the answer. Notice how WWX sees through his petty BS pretty quickly and decides he doesn't need to deal with that. And Lan Qiren's very telling response. Because everyone knows that the marking of a good teacher is when they toss a book at a student's unconventional answer and throw them out of the classroom. What a brilliant man.

Also, Lan Qiren never gives WWX a chance, they just mutually avoid each other after Wangxian's marriage. Did you forget that Lan Qiren was the one who established the new rule "Do not go near Wei Ying" in the extras that forced the juniors to avoid him? Isn't that telling of how precarious WWX's situation would be if it weren't for LWJ? The difference in social power between them is scary.

Imagine yourself in Wei Wuxian's shoes. Imagine how you are all but an outcast in this hypocritical world, and there are no shortage of enemies who want you dead. Imagine you marry the love of your life, and move into his very hostile clan, a clan that has already shown that they are happy to turn you over as a scapegoat. Imagine your spouse's bitter relative can't accept your relationship to the point that he cements his hatred for you on a rock, that serves as the foundation for the clan's teachings, so they're all obligated to now avoid you.

"He allows them to have sex-" oh how very generous of him? As if Lan Wangji would have any hesitation moving out of his clan if his uncle tried to enforce his marital rights. This one seems kinda nonsensical and grasping at straws to defend him.

Sure, he may have led the clan in his brother's absence for many years. Does that make his many moral failings better? Also, first he's a great and amazing leader for the Lan Clan, but it comes to defending LWJ he's suddenly a weak hapless man who can't do anything but bow towards the whims of hypocritical old men who demand that he follow their hypocritical rules? I don't know why so many people refuse to hold these morally reprehensible characters accountable for their own actions and bend over backwards to defend them. "They simply had no choice! They just had to slaughter all these old people, women and children, you know!"

And we don't see him be nurturing or kind to his nephews in any way, at most he seems their strict teacher who expects them to be perfect at all times. If you remember, at the end of the novel right after the Guanyin Temple fiasco, he was very much planning to drag Lan Wangji back to his sect and force him into a seclusion to "fix" him. Wangxian, probably being aware of Lan Qiren's hostility (it was nothing new), wisely left him and the cultivation world behind to clean up their own messes, because they were done doing so. They'd been apart long enough.

Lan Qiren's role in the story, like some others, is that of a weak, unrighteous man who stepped aside and allowed genocide to happen because his beliefs were steeped in classism and hypocrisy, and he had no interest in changing them. He is not an old and exasperated man who yells at WWX because of his shenanigans, but because he pathetically takes his anger on his mother (a woman who has been dead for more than a decade) out on her child. It's sad that fandom misconceptions have caused such a drastic change in the perception of his character, like so many others. People refuse to accept antagonists as antagonists.

Okay here's my Lan Qiren apologist masterpost

"He had Lan Wangji whipped! He's an abuser!"

That was Lan Wangji's punishment for injuring 33 Lan elders while defending a demonic cultivator who caused innumerable deaths in the cultivation community. You need to remember the setting of this story: Madame Yu whipped Wei Ying half to death just because she went "you didn't do anything wrong, your general existence is just mildly annoying to me." Lan Qiren deciding Lan Wangji get one lash for every person he hurt is NOTHING in comparison to the punishment he would have gotten if anyone else was in charge and it was the only way to clear his name.

2. "The Lan sect rules he enforces are too strict."

First of all, Lan Qiren is an old Asian person. I feel like that would be enough to make my point, but I will continue regardless.

The Lans have so many rules because they have extreme self-regulation issues when it comes to their emotions. We've seen Lan Wangji's dad ruin his life by trying to atticwife his lover, but Lan Wangji wasn't any better. If you've read the incense burner extra you know he got his first crush at 15 and his brain immediately went to fantasizing about violently assaulting Wei Ying in the library. Their hundreds of rules are stifling because they're supposed to be. If the Lans don't try to contain themselves they will ruin their lives and the lives of people they care about.

Is "don't talk while you're eating" even that extreme of a household rule? Like every family has some variation of "don't do ____ at the dinner table" and the Lans having their own version is not that insane.

3. "He was against Lan Wangji loving Wei Wuxian."

I need you to spend like. 2 minutes putting yourself in Lan Qiren's shoes.

Imagine you are Lan Qiren. Imagine you find out your brother broke his family apart by forcing his wife to stay with him. Lan Qiren was just a man who was thrust into not only taking care of the Lan clan, one of the biggest cultivation sects you can think of, but also his two traumatized nephews. Imagine cleaning up the mess your brother left you while having to raise two children that aren't yours.

Then you see your nephew, who you have raised like your own son, helplessly pining after the infamous demonic cultivator who has rejected him and teased him. You watch him turn against and injure his own family members to protect a literal criminal.

Then he comes home holding the child of the man he loves and you let him keep that baby and raise him. Because you see yourself in him. You see someone who just lost a loved one who was not a good person but someone you loved regardless. How many times do you think he saw Lan Wangji raising Lan Yuan and remembered himself raising someone else's children because their father was no longer there?

And then after all that Lan Qiren had been through, he didn't even try to keep Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian apart once he found out the truth. When Wei Ying explained how he'd been set up, he was one of the first elders in the cultivation community to give him a chance to explain himself. And after that even if he was cold to Wei Ying, he didn't say shit about the two of them having nasty loud gay sex in gusu every night.

I don't care. Lan Qiren hate will always be forced to me, he did literally nothing wrong and if I was in his shoes I would not have been able to handle it

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lettre-romantiques · 3 days ago

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4#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n.

hiii babbyyy!!! it's the fourth letter soo i'm sure the gifts have been sent! i wonder if the pastries came as well.. well anyways! :3

first off, i got you a little plushy. it’s a panda, it's one of those that has little, embroidered eyes and a tiny, hand-stitched smile. you can use it whenever you’re annoyed with me (i know you do are sometimes) or when you wanna think of me. it’s this soft, round thing, about 6 inches tall, with little black ears and stitched-on eyes. the cutest part? it has a little red scarf around its neck ＞0＜!! to be honest it's soft, a little too soft.. it's the type that makes you want to squeeze it every time you look at it, much like me!

next, i found this tiny, hand painted teapot, and i’m not even gonna lie, it’s totally your vibe. it’s ceramic, no bigger than a coffee cup, and it’s got this cute design where the spout is a little cat’s tail, a little cat face is painted on it, ears and nose to! so cute!!

then, i found these hand carved wooden bookmarks. they’re really simple but beautiful dark wood with those grain pattern and these little tassels hanging from the top. one is shaped like a lotus flower. they’re just the right size to slip into any book, and i thought they’d be a perfect way to keep track of things you’re reading (or pretend to read). you know, for when you want to act like you’re doing something productive, or you’re just waiting for me to show up.

oh, i picked up a pair of socks while i was walking through the town market. they’re fluffy, white, and have bear faces right on the toes, with little ears that stick up from the top. when you wear them, the bear looks like it's staring at you, ready to fight—kinda like how you look when you’re mad about me doing something stupid.

last of all, i found this little silver bracelet. it’s thin, almost delicate, with a simple charm that looks like a crescent moon. the thing is, if you look closely, there’s this faint engraving on the inside of the crescent, like a tiny, almost hidden star. it’s subtle, but it’s there. i thought it was a good symbol, something that’s quiet, but always present, like how i am in your life. i guess you can interpret it as the moon is a little reminder that no matter how far apart we might be, we’re still connected, even if it's in a way that you can’t always see. i hope you’ll wear it when you need to remember there’s always light, even in the dark.

if you did get some of the yummy food i sent then i'll spoil it for you, one of them was these really tasty koala shaped cookies filled with creamy chocolate and strawberry filling. i also sent over some morinaga milk caramel, it's soo smooth and buttery.. uughh, the perfect chewy texture.. they’ll melt in your mouth for sure! ;). i got you some honey toasts since we both wanted to try that but never had the chance to.. the thick slices of buttery, toasted bread soaked in honey, topped with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, and dripped in chocolate, yeah that one! i also sent in a little sour kick, i threw in some sour grape puccho!! the chewy, fruity candy with sour powder and candy bits inside, super tangy but sweettt! that's some of the ones i remember.. i stuffed all the treats i got in this bag so there's a looott.. hope it's not a mess..

with love -handsome man

p.s. eat all of it in vain for me!! savor it all though! (=｀ェ´=)

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howi99 · 18 hours ago

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Ashen Knight 9

Kid Cinder: *looking at their new identities* Pfft, Jaune? That's the name they gave you?

Rk Jaune: *shaking his head* It was my real name, Cinder. The only thing they changed was the family name.

Cinder: *laughing* But Jaune?! Really!? Ahahahahah! It's just a color! What, did your mom lack names that were related to your hair color?

Jaune: Yes, actually.

Cinder: ... Wait really?

Jaune: Seven sisters and a bunch of cousins that are all blond really weeded out the number of names they could use. Heck, if i remember correctly, i had... Have? *Shake his head* One of them was called dandelion and another crucifer, which is basically another name for mustard.

Cinder: ... That last one did sound badass though.

Jaune: ... I do have to agree on that one. *Taking another look at the false papers* The last name isn't bad at least.

Cinder: Amaryllis? Why? It sounds like we are from Argus.

Jaune: It's a good cover. A father and daughter leave Argus to search for a better life in Atlas-

Cinder: *deadpan* The grimmland would have been preferable to this god forsaken place.

Jaune: *roll his eyes* I know Atlas is the second worst place in Remnant after Mistral, but trust me when i say that i'd prefer to stay another hundred years in the ever after instead of getting my foot in the grimmlands for more than a week.

Cinder: *pouting* But i still want to go!

Jaune: ... *Kneeling down to her size, smiling at the little girl* Cinder, i know that you want to leave this place as soon as possible. *Chuckle* Trust me, i miss Vale as much as you hate Atlas... But you saw how Winter reacted when she talked about her dad. *Shaking his head* I can't just leave her alone, nor her or her siblings.

Cinder: *Sigh* I know that, but why can't i just use my semblance on him? It would be finished in a matter of seconds!

Jaune: *serious* And you'd have killed.

Cinder: *trying to justify herself* B-but he's a bad guy! Like in your stor-

Jaune: *Cutting her, his voice authoritative* Cinder!

Cinder: *surprised by Jaune reaction* W-whu-

Jaune: *sigh, calming his voice* Cinder... Killing is not a solution to a problem. It's a consequence. *Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath* Grimms don't have feelings. They don't have aspirations or dreams... But peoples? People have dreams. *Open his eyes, seeing Cinder's eyes reflecting his own* When you look at me, what do you see?

Cinder: *unsure* M-my savior? A knight?

Jaune: *shaking his head* Cinder, when i look at you, i see how good you can be. I see your future, i see all your potential... But do you know what i see when I have to kill someone? When they lay before me?

Cinder: *shake her head*

Jaune: *sigh* I see nothing... When they die, they cannot change anymore, Cinder. Death is the end, not A end, THE end. Killing someone is robbing them of their future, of everything they could have done. You cannot repent in death... *Look at his broken sword* Nor can you dream of better days...

Cinder: *looking down, ashamed of even thinking about killing Jacques* I'm sorry... I thought i could be useful... I just-

Jaune: *taking her in his arms, hugging her* You don't need to be useful, Cinder. You need to be you, to be happy!

Cinder: *slowly hugging the knight back, silently crying* B-but then... What good am i?

Jaune: *Tightening his hug a little bit* You aren't a tool, Cinder. You are a kid... Be kind, be happy... And that will be plenty enough.

#jaune arc #cinder fall #ashen knight au #rwby #rwby au

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sissylittlefeather · 2 days ago

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Loyal & True

A/N: I wrote something a little unorthodox, but it's been stuck in my brain like a splinter for over a year now, so I had to do it. This is a modern AU where Elvis is in a fraternity. This one is purely my fantasy, but I hope at least a few of you will get a kick out of it. It's pretty entertaining, if nothing else.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, typical smut, kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but also they drink a lot of alcohol and smoke at one point.

Word count: ~4.4k

“Hey, honey, are you new here?” Elvis takes a sip from the beer he's holding in a red Solo cup. He cringes a bit at the taste. It doesn't matter how long he's in the fraternity, he'll never get used to the taste of cheap beer and he'll definitely never like it. You, on the other hand, he likes immediately.

“Oh, um, yeah. I'm thinking of going through rush, so my roommate thought I should experience a frat party as a means to convince me.” He smiles and it almost takes your breath away. How on earth is he so attractive?

“And are you convinced yet?” He takes another sip, but you suppress a giggle. It's obvious he doesn't like what he's drinking.

“Not really. The beer is cheap and the music could be better.” He laughs, appreciating your honesty. He's so used to girls who fall all over themselves to try to sleep with him that your bold truth is refreshing. Setting his cup on the counter, he nods.

“The beer is cheap, I'll give you that. We'll address that at the next chapter meeting, I assure you.” He's kidding, but you don't know enough about Greek life to know that.

“Y'all really talk about beer at meetings?” He laughs.

“Not at all. It was a joke. You really are new here, aren't ya?”

“I really am. I'm not sure this whole scene is for me.” He steps back and looks you up and down.

“You look like you fit in. But you also don't look like a freshman.”

“I'm not. I spent two years at a junior college and this is my second year here.”

“Why are you thinking of going through rush now?” You take a sip of the beer and then set yours next to his on the counter, making a face.

“That really is bad. I need friends. And I've heard it looks good on a resume.”

“Well, you're not wrong about that.”

“Just not sure I'm ready to buy my friends.” He clicks his tongue and looks at you disapprovingly.

“That's not what this is at all. You're paying for opportunities. The rest is up to you.”

“Mmm. That's an interesting way to think of it.” There's a small lull in the conversation, but he's not ready to move on from you.

“What kind of music would you prefer?” He asks and you laugh.

“I'm more of a classic rock girl. Think like Kansas, Boston, the Eagles, Elton John, things like that.” His eyes go wide and he tries not to smile like an idiot.

“You're a girl after my own heart. I agree. But this music is better for a party.”

“Why do you say that?” He smirks.

“Come on.” You raise your eyebrows and take the hand that he offers you, following him out to the dance floor.

“I really don't-”

“Just try it.” He puts his hand on your lower back and pulls you in close to him. Thankfully, the music is loud, so he doesn't hear you gasp a little when he puts his hands on your hips and starts to move you with him to the beat. You've never danced like this in public before, much less with a guy. “You're too stiff. Relax, baby.”

“I'm trying…” He pulls back and looks at you.

“Here, come with me.” You take his hand again as he leads you to the kitchen. It amazes you how many people say hi to him as you walk together. He introduces you to everyone, but there's no way you'll be able to remember all the names. The first time he realizes he doesn't know your name, but once you say it, he doesn't forget it. Eventually, you get back to the kitchen and he goes to a cabinet, pulling a bottle of liquor down from the top of it. “We need shots.”

You smile and nod. That sounds like exactly what you need. He comes up with two shot glasses and pours one for each of you.

“What is this?” He grins.

“Peanut butter whiskey.” Your mouth pops open. You didn't know there was such a thing.

“It's good, I promise. Cheers.” He taps his shot glass against yours and then throws back the brown liquor. You nod and do the same. You're no stranger to shots and this one is actually really good. “I was right, huh?”

“Yeah, it's really good.”

“You want another?”

“Hell yeah, I do.” He grins again and pours two more shots. This time, you do them together and put your glasses down at the same time. “That stuff is dangerous.”

“Why? You feelin’ like you might make a bad decision?” He smirks down at you mischievously. The whiskey is starting to go to your head, so you giggle.

“Mayyybe. Come on, let's dance.” He's surprised, but he doesn't argue as you take his hand and practically drag him back to the dance floor. Truthfully, you just want an excuse to press up against him again.

When you get back to the dance floor, it doesn't take long for you both to settle into a rhythm of grinding against each other to the beat. You start out facing each other, but before too long he turns you and you go to work rubbing your ass against his crotch. You're not sure what's come over you, but it's like you've been living for this moment and you've had just enough alcohol to lower your inhibitions. He holds your hips and guides your motions against him. As the tension builds, his lips find your neck and he starts to press soft kisses just below your ear. For a bit, you reach back and grab the back of his hair as he continues kissing your neck. Before too long, though, you turn to face him. He looks into your eyes for about half a second and then dives in, crashing his lips into yours in a wildly passionate kiss. He pulls your hips in tight against his and you feel his hardness where it strains against his pants. Your arms are around his neck and somehow he still sways a little to the music as his tongue explores your mouth. His hands start to roam as the kiss reaches a fever pitch and he pulls back breathlessly.

“Air. We need air.” You're a little disappointed, but he leads you off the dance floor again and out to a large patio. He pulls a small cigar out of his pocket and you pull out a cigarette. Wrapping himself around you from behind, he lights yours first and then his. You take a drag and lean back against his chest.

“You didn't want to dance anymore?” You ask, wondering why he'd stopped you when he did. He blows out a puff of smoke and whispers in your ear.

“A gentleman doesn't fuck a lady on the dance floor.” You giggle as he kisses your neck before taking another puff of his cigar.

“No? But he’ll fuck her on the patio?” Now it's his turn to laugh.

“No, baby. Not out here either.” You smoke for a bit in silence, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“What's your major?” You ask, just wanting to hear the sound of his voice again.

“Audio engineering. Yours?”

“English literature.”

“Ah. Music and lyrics. We make sense together.” You're a little surprised that he'd mention anything about you being together, but the idea intrigues you.

“Hey, how does everyone know you?” You ask, finishing your cigarette and turning in his arms to face him. He takes another puff of his cigar, before putting it out and slipping what's left of it back into his pocket.

“I'm the president.” Your mouth drops open.

“You're shittin’ me.”

“I assure you; I'm not. I'm the president of the fraternity.” You laugh a little.

“Wow. I have university royalty wrapped around me right now.” He chuckles.

“That's right. You better enjoy it.” You smile as he leans down and kisses you gently. He's more tender than you expected. You really thought these frat guys all had one thing in mind, but he's so sweet and soft. Maybe it's all an act, but it feels real. You kiss him deeply and roll your hips against his. He moans softly and holds you tight for a second. “Honey, I'm happy to keep just kissin’ you on the patio. But if you want more, we need to go to my room.”

“Sir! I am a lady.” You protest, feigning innocence. He smiles and kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear.

“My apologies, dear. I guess I got confused when you kept rubbing yourself on me.” You giggle and snuggle into his chest in a gesture that's far too intimate for your circumstances, but seems appropriate nonetheless. He obviously doesn't mind as he sets his chin on your head and wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Like what?” You pull back to look up into his face.

“Affectionate. I mean, I am, but not to this extent. I'm usually more… goal-oriented…” He tries to hide a smirk.

“That's a cute way to say you're usually focused on sex.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Well, I'm just usually not this content to cuddle on a patio, we'll say that.” Somehow, your eyebrows go even higher.

“So you don't want to have sex with me?” He closes his eyes and leans his head back.

“Man, I really set myself up here.” You giggle and he bites his bottom lip, looking back down at you. “Honey, I'd take you upstairs in a heartbeat if that's what you wanted. But if it's not, I'm not walking away. And that's the different part. I'm not walking away.”

He leans into you and presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes and revel in the closeness, confused by how you can feel this connected after an hour at a noisy frat party.

You're in this position when one of the guys sticks his head out the door and hollers.

“Yo, Presley. We're up on beer pong. You ready?” Elvis grumbles a bit and then unwraps himself from around you, hollering back at the guy at the door.

“Shit. I forgot I signed up for that. Yeah, I'm comin’!” He turns back to you and smiles. “You wanna play? You can be my partner. Scotty can play with someone else.”

“I've never played before, but sure, I can try.” You look up at Elvis sweetly. The guy that you're assuming is Scotty laughs, gesturing to both of you.

“Awesome. I'll play against you two.” You take Elvis's hand and make your way back into the party behind Scotty. The guys get the cups set up and fill them with beer and you wrinkle your nose.

“I'm not drinkin’ that.” Elvis grabs you around the waist and kisses your cheek.

“I'll drink it, baby.”

“She has to drink something! House rules. Everybody drinks.” Elvis rolls his eyes at Scotty and then looks back at you.

“I made that rule. I guess I have to follow it. What do you want?”

“Bring me a glass of whiskey and I'll sip it.” Elvis looks at you like he could kiss you and Scotty laughs again.

“Damn, sweetheart, you keep this up and he's likely to marry you.” You giggle to cover up the way your stomach flip-flops and Elvis pushes Scotty's shoulder. He doesn't contradict him, though, as he walks into the kitchen, leaving you in the room with the guys. You make small talk until he comes back with your drink. He hands it to you and then goes into game mode.

“Okay, honey, now just focus on the cups and try to get a nice arch on it. If you feel like you can keep the ball out of the cup by blowing on it, try it. You can swat it if they bounce it and if you make a bounce that's three cups. We get two re-racks.”

“Yeah, I'm never gonna remember all that. I'm not even sure that was English.” He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Let's just play. I'll help you.” The game begins and you're surprised both at how good Elvis is and how competitive he is. He tries so hard to be patient with you as you learn, but it's clear that he's in hell when you're losing by two cups. They're down to one cup and you have three left and Elvis is about to pull his hair out.

“I'm sorry…” You whisper. He turns and wraps you in his arms.

“No, baby, it's okay. I'm okay.” You pull his mouth down to yours and kiss him softly. He smiles against your lips and relaxes significantly. The guys all look at each other with their eyebrows raised. They've never seen their president like this with a girl.

“Y'all gonna shoot, or just make out?” Scotty asks sarcastically. Without taking his eyes off of you, Elvis bounces the ping pong ball on the table and it goes directly into the front cup. The room goes crazy as the guys clap and cuss and cheer.

“Okay, now baby if you make this, we win.” He looks you in the eye and you nod. You turn and he puts his hands on your hips, pressing himself up behind you. “Just relax. You got this.”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, open your eyes and shoot. It feels like the ball moves in slow motion as the whole room watches it. And then, to everyone’s shock, it lands square in the same front cup that Elvis's did.

You'd think you had won the Olympics with the way the guys lose their minds. Elvis grabs you and spins you around, peppering your face with kisses. When he finally puts you down, you have to high five pretty much everyone in the room, including Scotty, who gives you a nod of respect. After what feels like way too long, the guys calm down and start to set up for the next game.

In all the commotion, Elvis grabs your hand and drags you back to the living room where everyone is dancing and settles you onto a couch in a corner of the room. It's too loud to talk and between the whiskey and beer, you don't really want to anyway. He's been dying to get his hands on you again and you'd be lying if you said you weren't craving him like a drug. You sit next to him and turn, throwing your legs over his thigh. He tips your face up to his with his finger and looks into your eyes before leaning in to press his lips against yours softly. After a few more soft kisses, he runs his tongue along your bottom lip and you part yours, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, tasting you, and before you know it, you're straddling his lap, grinding against him as he has one hand in your hair and the other creeping up your thigh, his fingertips under the edge of your skirt where it has ridden up. You moan softly as his thumb grazes your inner thigh, just inches from where you really want him to touch you. He pulls back for a second and just looks at you before burying his face in your neck, kissing and sucking and nipping the sensitive skin there. In this moment, you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and he's overwhelmed with the desire to keep you. It's an urge he's never felt before, but it's strong now as he works a spot on your collarbone with his mouth. You spread your legs wider and press your dripping wet center against his hard cock, moaning with the pressure and friction. Both of his hands run back to your ass and pull you in tighter against him. You whimper as you rub your clothed pussy on him, desperate for more. You've never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now. He moves his mouth back up to your ear and moans.

“Fuck, baby. We gotta go upstairs.” You nod frantically as he kisses you again, his thumb running over the wet spot on your panties. “Before I fuck you right here on this couch.”

“I wouldn't say no.” You whimper and nibble on his earlobe.

“You can't say shit like that, baby.” He squeezes your hips with his hands and then lifts you a bit. “Come on.”

You back off of him and stand up as he adjusts his dick under his belt and then leads you to the stairs. On the landing at the top of the staircase, he kisses you again, grabbing the back of your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the door at the end of the hall and then kicks it open, slamming it behind himself. You moan loudly as he turns and presses you up against it, rolling his hips so that his cock is rubbing on your center again. The whole time, his tongue is in your mouth, sliding against yours as you kiss wildly. Your hands are in the back of his hair and he holds your ass in both of his palms.

“I need to taste you, baby. Can I?” You whimper and nod as he puts your feet back on the floor and sinks to his knees. He lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach while you roll your hips forward sensually. You've never been this turned on in your life and you're desperate for more of him. He pulls your skirt and panties down and removes your shoes, leaving your whole bottom half naked. “Mmm… let me see this pretty little pussy.”

He puts one of your thighs on his shoulder and looks at you dripping with arousal.

“So pretty.” Without another thought, he leans forward and licks you, pushing his tongue in you as deep as it'll go.

“Fuck. Elvis…” You gasp and moan as he goes to work licking your clit and fucking you with his tongue. Eventually, he brings his mouth up to focus on your sensitive bud and slides two fingers up into you, curling and then pumping them. You feel your orgasm gather in your hips as he sucks lightly on your clit and then licks over it in tantalizingly slow circles.

“I can feel you, baby, you're so close. Let go and cum for me.” You've never had a man bring you to a climax this quickly or this easily before and something inside you reaches out to him as your release hits you, flooding your body with electricity and ecstatic pleasure. He groans, tonguing you through your orgasm as you shudder and pulse on his fingers. The look on your face, the little sounds you make, the way you taste, it all makes him want to do this for you forever. “You're so pretty, baby, so sexy when you cum for me. Was that good?”

“God-fuck-Elvis, yes!” You struggle to make words happen and he pulls back, smiling, his lips and chin glistening. He stands up and strips off your shirt, yanking your bra off and tossing it across the room. For a second, he just lets his eyes run over your body before he reaches out and gently drags his thumb over your nipple.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs, drinking you in and holding you in his mind. There's something particularly sexy about being naked while he's fully clothed. It makes you feel like some kind of nymph or goddess as he stares and touches you softly.

“I want to see you.” You run your hands up under his shirt and he lets you push it over his head and off. He drops it on the floor and you press soft kisses to his chest. Your hands drift to his belt buckle and he sucks in a breath as you undo it and the button and zipper on his pants. It surprises you that he's not wearing underwear when you see the tufts of brown hair in the opening of his slacks. Now it's your turn to drop to your knees, pulling his cock free and pumping it with your hand a few times. He groans and leans his head back.

“Feels good, baby.” He whimpers as you lean forward and lick a circle around the exposed head of his dick. When you pull him fully into your mouth, he damn near doubles over on top of you. Your oral skills are impressive and he bites his bottom lip and moans, trying not to completely lose control. “Fuckkkkk.”

You bounce on his cock and then press your nose into the tufts of brown hair as you take him deep in your throat. It makes your eyes water, but the strangled sound he makes when you do it is worth it. You continue working him with your hand and mouth for a bit until you feel his stomach tense and know he's getting close. That's when you pull back and stand up, kissing his chest again. He pushes his pants off the rest of the way and kicks off his shoes until he's as naked as you are. For a bit, you just stand there taking each other in. You've both had sex before, plenty of it, but something about this feels special and important. Finally, he reaches out and takes your hand, walking with you to the bed. Suddenly, he feels very vulnerable, like this is his first time again. He settles you on the bed and then lies down next to you, running his hand over your stomach.

“I'm sorry. I just got suddenly nervous.” He chuckles a bit and kisses your lips.

“Me too. Why does this feel so…?”

“Important?” He finishes your sentence and you nod.

“Yeah, that's exactly it.” You look into his eyes as he presses his hand to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek.

“I think maybe this matters, maybe we matter.”

“I think so.”

“I don't wanna fuck you, baby.” Your eyebrows pull together in concern. “I want to make love to you.”

You relax into him as he moves on top of you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks. He grinds his hips against yours and you feel the tip of his cock on your clit. You moan softly as he rearranges his hips a bit to line up with your entrance. Spreading your legs a little, you grant him access and give him permission to push into you. He slowly moves his hips forward, entering you gently, almost lovingly. You arch your back as he groans with the sensation of your tight wetness wrapping around him.

“God, baby. We fit together like a lock and key.” He rests his head on your shoulder as he fills you fully, stopping to give you time to adjust. But it's not really necessary as you do seem to fit together perfectly. He pulls his hips back, sliding out of you, and then rolls them forward again, pushing deep inside you.

Sex has never felt like this before for either of you. The physical sensations are heightened by the emotional connection you've created in the time since he first approached you. It's happened fast, but there's something a little undeniable about the two of you.

“Elvis… this… I…” You can't seem to find words to express what you're feeling as he picks up a slow and steady rhythm of sliding in and out of you.

“I know, baby.” He captures your lips in a deep kiss and then rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You sit up and arch your back, swirling your hips around so that you push his dick even deeper inside you. His hands go to your breasts and he squeezes gently before running them down your sides to your hips. You let him guide your movements for a bit and then lean forward, kissing his cheek as he starts to fuck into you from underneath. “Feels so goddamn good, honey. I never wanna stop.”

“I wish you wouldn't.” You kiss over to his mouth and dip your tongue between his lips. His pace becomes more erratic as his body tenses again, pulled tight as his climax builds in his balls.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Can I-”

“Yes. Don't pull out. I'm on the pill.” He nods and kisses you again as his hips snap upwards to meet yours over and over again.

“Shit.” He whispers through gritted teeth just before he slams into you one last time and his cock throbs and twitches, filling you with his release. You lay on his chest and he wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible, honey.”

“It really was. Elvis…” He looks down at you inquisitively.

“What is it, baby?”

“Nothing. It's nothing.” You look down and he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tipping your chin to look into his eyes.

“It's not nothing. I think I know what you're trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and it's insane.” You nod and settle into the crook of his arm as he kisses each of your fingertips. At first, you're a little hurt that he'd call you insane, but that quickly changes with what he says next. “It’s crazy, but I don't care. I love you.”

You look up at him with your eyes wide and wet and he caresses your cheek.

“I love you too, Elvis.” You snuggle in as close to him as you can, your fingers rubbing over his chest hair gently.

“Will you stay with me?” He whispers. You think to yourself that he'll never get rid of you now.

“Tonight?” You ask innocently and he nods, still kissing your fingertips.

“Yeah… or… like… until we die?” He says the last part quietly, like he's not sure he wants to hear your response. You giggle and kiss his shoulder.

“Until we die. I like that idea.” He relaxes a bit and kisses your neck.

“Good. Me too.”

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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tkwrites · 2 days ago

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Okay I'm done now and heading to bed, one last question.

Can you name a favourite fic for each of the boys?

Hi my Lovely,

There are quite a few of your asks I haven't answered, but please know I'm not ignoring them. They'll just take a little more time to respond to.

I can tell you my favorite fics, though:

Matthew Tkachuk - Back To You because it's such a complete story. I love the way he and Jessie meet, lose each other, and then are thrown together by fate again. I also feel like I really captured that sassy side of Matthew's personality in this fic, which I was really worried about at the time I was writing it. This is also the story that I think would be easiest to flesh out into a full length novel.

Nico Hischier - I love all the parts of his story for different reasons, but I think It Doesn't Matter Part II is my favorite. I had actually written the whole sequence of nude sketches for another character, but ended up scrapping the whole story because I couldn't find any real conflict for them to resolve. When I realized I could use it for Nico and Lena if she was an artist, I was thrilled and got to work rewriting it for them. In the end, the only things that stayed the same were 5 of the 6 poses. Getting into and out of them changed, as did the characters relating to each other during them. I love all the longing and awkward tension between them in this piece, as well as how they finally end up confessing their love for each other. Finally, the culmination of all of their longing into the final sex scene? Chefs kiss.

Quinn Hughes - This one is so hard. I've written so much about Quinn and Sarah and I love all of the pieces for one reason or another. If I had to pick three favorites, they would be:

1). Five Days of Joy because I'm so proud of this fic. It took SO long to write, but I love the way it turned out. I love that we go through so many consecutive days and such a gamut of emotions with Sarah and Quinn.

2). The Second Time is Better because I love the portrayal of a more real first time. One of the things that drives me batty about romance novels is how the characters get together and always seem to have this instantly amazing sexual connection. No room for human failing or first time jitters. In reality, it takes time to build sexual chemistry and connection, and I went into this piece wanting to show at least some of that.

and 3). Second Nature because I think it has the prettiest prose. I still think this passage is some of the best writing I've ever done:

This was ultimate flirting in Quinn’s book. Something he knew he could do. When someone wanted to talk about music, or art or classic cars, he was a fish out of water. But talking hockey? He could do that all day long. Convincing someone to like the sport he loved so much? There wasn't a more ideal situation.

“Oh, good,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him.

This was a perfect evening. Casual and comfortable. Cooking for someone he - liked, and kissing her whenever he wanted, taking no worry of who might be watching.

Letting himself get swept up in the kiss, he slid his hands over her hips and tried to commit her scent to memory. No matter what happened - though he was pretty sure nothing bad was ever going to happen with Sarah - he wanted to remember this. She smelled like a dream he’d had as a boy. Like vanilla and warm skin and fireside, summer nights. It was an outlandish notion, but he couldn’t shake it.

All her life, Sarah had read stories about star-crossed, fated lovers thrown together by chance and circumstance and serendipity. But those were all just stories. Even when her grandpa talked about meeting her grandma - like they were always meant to be together, and just had to find each other to make it happen - it seemed like folklore. A tall tale he spun to make their love story seem more epic.

After writing all this out, I realized perhaps you meant favorite writing from other authors. Let me know if that's something you'd like me to answer.

#tkanswers 📮#writing #favorites #quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes smut #nico & lena #nico hischier #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier smut #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #hockey fanfiction #hockey romance #hockey smut

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captaincorgi128 · 13 hours ago

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On Christmas Day of 2018, I received a paperback copy of George Orwell's 1984. I was 12 years old.

I remember the adults - aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, looking at me cautiously, as if they had handed me a live bomb rather than a book. "That's a very intense book, okay?" my father told me. "If you want, we can talk about it after you read it." 12-year-old me, with only a dim idea of what fascism actually was and an insatiable appetite for books, only nodded.

While my younger cousins and sister played with their new toys, I sat on the couch and read the book in one sitting. When I finished, I looked up to see the adults staring at me with a strange sort of fascination. "Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked.

"No." I shrugged and turned away.

The truth was, I had been expecting a happy ending. Winston Smith was the good guy, wasn't he? Why didn't he win? Evil governments always lost in the end, didn't they? How could Winston have been brainwashed into believing such an evil, awful dictatorship was truly great? After all, when my middle school history teachers talked about dictatorships, those of Hitler and Stalin, it was obvious that they were the worst of the worst. No one actually agreed with them, did they?

Then I remembered my fourth grade class talking about the upcoming election, laughing about how obviously stupid Trump's wall idea was, and how strange it felt to hear someone say Clinton was worse. I don't remember his reasoning, but I distinctly remember thinking it was dumb because what could be dumber than a giant wall around Mexico? I remembered my grandmother arguing against vaccinating children, and I remembered flat Earthers I had seen online. That day was the first time it clicked for me: people believe what they want to believe.

The years passed. I read 1984 again, and again, and again. I watched as Trump shut down the government for sake of a temper tantrum, as he was impeached, as he told Americans to object bleach, as he politicized a pandemic and let thousands die. I didn't know about his SA scandals. I didn't know he had called Mexicans "thieves and rapists." I just knew he could not be allowed to be president again.

Yet, when 2020 rolled around, I was only 14 years old and could not vote. I settled for watching anxiously as the votes came in - I didn't know much about Joe Biden, but he was clearly a better alternative. He actually believed the COVID-19 pandemic was real, for one. So I sighed in relief as the results came through four days later: Joe Biden had been elected president of the United States.

I kept watching. I watched as Trump incited insurrection, as terrorists stormed the Capitol. I stared in horror at the TV. How could this have happened? How were so many people so delusional?

In December 2021, for my sophomore year English class, I read 1984 again. I thought of January 6th.

My classmates thought it boring, confusing, stupid. It didn't make sense. What did it matter? Who cared whether or not we knew the significance of the character of O'Brien?

I kept watching. The summer before my junior year of high school, just before I entered a relationship with my now-partner, Roe v. Wade was overturned, and I felt a sinking pit in my stomach. Six months later, a friend of mine read 1984 for that same English class, and he loved it - we had a few intense study hall discussions about the nature of doublespeak, of totalitarianism, of a surveillance state. My partner agreed, reading it with a terrified fascination.

I kept watching. I realized I was nonbinary, and I watched in horror as the Republican Party made their creeping advances to eradicate trans rights. Idly, I reread 1984. What the right wanted did seem a lot like Oceania's government, didn't it? I wondered if I'd ever be able to marry my partner, who, despite also being trans, was still the same sex as me. If Trump ran again, he'd probably win, and then what would we do?

Then, 2024. Trump won the primaries in a landslide. I turned 18 and registered to vote. In the meantime, I skimmed Project 2025's bits about banning pornography and thought of 1984 and its carefully curated sexless society, created to achieve perfect complacency. I went off to college and voted absentee, carefully bubbling in the circle next to Vice President Kamala Harris's name. I woke up on Wednesday, November 6th to see Trump had won the presidency.

It has been one week. Again, I watch as Trump proposes a Department of Government Efficiency, which sounds euphemistically horrific. I watch as he suggests Musk to head it, a man known for being as inefficient as possible. I think of the Ministry of Truth and how its entire purpose was to disseminate lies. I watch as people celebrate, mocking me and many others who had desperately voted against a fascist, a rapist, a convicted criminal, a man who would kill us and spit on our graves if he was elected to office. I think of Parsons and duckspeak, the practice of simply spitting out the "correct" propaganda the same way a duck quacked. People really did believe what they wanted to believe, didn't they? I realize Trump won because, deep down, people hated minorities more than they loved democracy.

I hope my loved ones and I will survive another Trump presidency. I hope those in Gaza and Ukraine will survive it too, along with so many others - Jews, POC, immigrants, students, disabled, Muslims. At the very least, I hope to live long enough to watch as the bigots are forced to eat their own words and come to terms with the fact they gleefully voted in their own downfall.

At the end of the day, 1984 taught me something I could not have comprehended at age 12, 14, 15, or 16, but can understand now: democracy dies not with a bang, but with a whimper.

#fascisim #election 2024 #fuck trump #orwell 1984 #politics #arc rambles #elon musk #fuck musk #fuck maga #donald trump

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deiastormborn · 2 days ago

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Gale of Waterdeep; A much needed look beneath the surface

Hey all. This is a script for the video I made in defense of Gale. I never had a place to put the text version of it anywhere else, but... if Tumblr isn't a good place for it, then what is?

Warning: Long Read!

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Hi, my name is Stormborn. I’ve been playing Baldur’s Gate for some time, enjoyed it quite a bit. As much as I can appreciate every companion that the game has introduced, Gale of Waterdeep, a charming lil’ wizard, has caught my attention the most. At glance, he is this sarcastic happy-to-go man, always joking around, trying to do the right thing. But, the more you get to know him, the more you slowly uncover his trauma, as much as he, himself, is trying to deny it.

Honestly, I thought that Gale would be liked by many people, I genuinely expected him to be one of the most chosen companions, and one of the most romanced ones. But, to my surprise, I’ve been seeing him getting more hate than I anticipated. Some people call his way of speaking way too annoying and complicated, some people call him clingy and creepy, mostly due to the glitch that would skyrocket his approval of you, probing him to romance you. Genuinely, it is okay to dislike some companion in favor of the other one. But I could not get rid of the feeling that people just despise his guts unjustifiably.

One of the main reasons, besides the ones I covered earlier, is that people hate his ‘obsession’ with Mystra, the goddess of magic he happened to romance. I saw people complain that he just cannot stop talking about her, even while you romance him, and I can’t help but wonder if people were paying attention to his story at all. And I cannot blame them, as Gale always portrays his romance with Mystra as something so special, so unique, and as something to be proud of. But, let me explain to why you should be able to judge his story for yourself, rather than simply listen to what he is saying.

Gale is a talented wizard, so talented that he got attention from Mystra herself for his talent of channeling the weave. The story says that he is so powerful, that he could potentially destroy a whole village by basically sneezing in its direction. However, we all need to remember that he got attention from Mystra at the very, very young age. If I am not mistaken, the first time Mystra clawed onto him was when he turned 16. Ever since then, Mystra was feeding him all kinds of praise, prompting him to seek power, ensuring him that he can become Mystra’s chosen, and, mind you, *started romancing him ever since*. It is not a secret that Gale was not the first, however, if you really think of it, such revelation can seriously mess with a mind of a teenager. Not only it might boost the self-esteem, but also make him think that he is better than anyone else. And, I assure you, it is exactly what Mystra wanted. By giving him some form of attention, minimum affection, she had Gale on the hook. And Gale, as a boy obsessed with magic, who has been worshiping Mystra before he even met her, didn’t require much effort in getting hooked. But here comes the problem: as much as it is uplifting to get a praise from a literal Goddess of all magic, it is also as equally devastating to get any kind of critique or a cold shoulder.

Mystra was messing with his mind, making him feel like, no matter how well he does, he can always do better, as he has so much potential. With such authority, Gale would believe her. And it would make him always chase something more to impress her, rather than settle and appreciate what he has. It is also a reason to why the whole mess with the Orb began in the first place. People seem to call Gale power hungry, which, as any companion in the game, it is possible for him to go down that route. But they seem to forget one important detail: Gale thought that the Orb was a missing relic of Mystra’s magic, and he wanted to, yet again, impress her by bringing it back. Please remember that Gale was still a young adult, if not a teenager, when this happened. And it would all be resolved if Mystra would not shatter his self-esteem as much as she did. So, he made a mistake, and the Orb became his burden. And yet again, rather than explain this to her ‘chosen one’, she basically banished him, and left him with no answers for many years to come.

Gale isolated himself to keep people around him safe, with nothing but the books and the cat for the company. I think I do not need to mention on how that can play with your mind, too. But, in spite of all, Gale’s blind loyalty and obsession with Mystra kept him wanting for more attention, more answers, so he kept seeking more power, and more ways to get Mystra’s approval. At the day you first meet him, this is the first time he has been amongst people. Yet he still kept his jolly appearance, messing around with Tav, and appreciating everything that surrounds him.

I do not know if this is obvious just yet, but Mystra has basically groomed the kid. If we look at the very definition of grooming, Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. And it is most prominent when it comes from the place of higher authority. I think I do not need to explain that, in the fantasy setting, there is no higher authority than the God or a Goddess. Yet, for one reason or another, this seems to not be taken serious. And I think I have an explanation as to why.

When you talk to Gale about Mystra, or when you let him talk about her first, he is still full of admiration, obsession, and the unending pride. There is still some bitterness lingering somewhere in him, yet it Is not as powerful as any other feeling he has towards her. I’ve noticed people basically hating him for saying something like ‘Yeah, I banged Mystra, that’s pretty cool, right?’. But think of it this way: wouldn’t Mystra *want* him to think that it’s ‘pretty cool’? And who are we to say that it was the real Mystra he had an intimate moment with? For all we know, she might have conjured an illusion, to satisfy him and feed into his ego. If the romance between them was as real as Gale thinks it was, do you really think Mystra would just abandon him with no answers for a mistake such as this? After all, Gale was young, and had barely any experience. All he had was wizards, such as him, or more powerful than him, and her. If she truly cared about putting him to a right path, rather than using him for her needs, the outcome would be ever so different.

I would also like to address that people do not think of it as a simple coping mechanism. Even if you look at the society these days, most of the time, when a man comes with a confession of, say, a woman taking advantage of him, it is often met with ‘wow dude, you got lucky’, rather than with a serious concern. Who are we to say that Gale, rather than simply try to reflect and recognize his relationship with Mystra as an illusion, didn’t just decide to get along with it and be proud instead? Even then, when you romance him further, he is slowly realizing that it was not as real as he once thought. In Gale’s own words: ‘there is no love between us. I was not the first, and I certainly won’t be the last’. Gale finally, ever so slowly, starts to understand that he was simply used by Mystra for his talent. Being a deity means that you are only powered by the followers you still have. It is in the god’s interests to keep people interested in them, or they will loose power. Using Gale, knowing he was an extremely skillful wizard, was in Mystra’s interests. She does not give him answers, but keeps him interested in her enough to keep him in her claws, spreading more words of her, attracting more people to follow her godhood. There was no real romance, she was interested in his power more than himself. And you can help him realize that.

But, with such dynamic comes a price, which also becomes more prominent when you play the game further: Gale never feels good enough. With the first chance he can sacrifice himself for a greater good, he takes it. He has no real appreciation of his life, he does not take it as something valuable. He is deeply depressed and traumatized. When a person moves away from the environment that scarred them, it can become extremely overbearing, difficult, and overwhelming. People also seem to act as if it is weird that, with any kind of hurt, Gale’s first reaction is to ‘blow himself up’. It doesn’t take much to know that he won’t do it if it were to mean that someone can get hurt, but he is saying that because, maybe, partially, he *wanted* to die. He has finally found appreciation amongst other people, who are not wizards like him, people who do not know him well, and people who do not want him to constantly be the best version of himself. He falls in love with Tav, because Tav is showing him kindness, and proving to him that he does not have to be someone that he is not to be loved. In that very vulnerable state, any kind of hurt or rejection hits you more. Not to mention that, the only time he ever says it, was after the night he spent with you. After he opened up, shared his fears, more of his past, even said out loud that, in truth, he does not want to die. He let himself be vulnerable, the most vulnerable he has probably been in years, so it is not a question of his ego being hurt: it is a situation where a man, who always kept to himself, has finally let someone in, and got hurt. I am sure one of us, at one point in life, said something like ‘well guess I go die’ as a joke. This is the only way Gale knows how to respond: joking about his pain. He does not mean it, but says it anyway, because it is the first thing that came to his mind. He has been a very reserved companion through the whole time, always seemed to know what to say, and he acted on an emotion after a very emotional night.

It is also a fact that, even while he is slowly realizing that Mystra used him, he does not mind dying because she asked him to do so. That does not only prove a point that Mystra does not have any real regards to him other than a tool, but also that she was using him for her own sake. With The Absolute getting more followers, her power also weakens. The Absolute is a threat, not only because of the infection and danger to mere humans, but also to her godhood. And who better to deal with it than the man she has so methodically conditioned to do as she wishes? You would think that, a goddess as powerful as Mystra, could try to take care of things on her own. And yet again, the only time Mystra ever gives him any answers, is when she needs him to be used. That is, yet again, a definition of the grooming.

Gale will do anything for a little bit of appreciation, anything to be noticed, and we cannot blame him. This is why you, a player, as a Tav, have a power in you to make him realize that he, as he is now, is valid. It is almost as if Gale forgot that he is such a talented wizard after all the stuff with Mystra. You, as a player, have it in you to remind him. And once you do, Gale slowly separated himself from Mystra as her ex-lover, and only answers to her as his deity. After all, she is a goddess of all magic, it will be hard to reject her entirely.

Victims of grooming or any kind of abuse often can’t let go of the person who harmed them. They will talk about them, they will mention them, they might even try to grasp onto good things, or make it seem like bad things that happened weren’t really all that bad. Combine that with a constant feeling of never being good enough, and not knowing a genuine kindness outside of his very small circle, and you have Gale. A charming, sarcastic, jolly Wizard, who is also as ever troubled.

Moving on to other topic that people seem to judge Gale for, is that, once a chance arrives, he starts grasping onto Godhood, wishing to become a God himself. It is also in that situation where he starts to say that he would have the power to completely overthrow Mystra. People seem to criticize him for his hunger for power, and also, altogether, call him ungrateful. I would like to add another opinion on that: while Gale is slowly realizing that he was being used, he went through all 5 stages of grief. But here comes the other one, that is mentioned much less: revenge. He wants to show Mystra that she was wrong about him. He wants to prove to her that, after all this time, he *was* good, if not better than her. On top of that, he is still trying to fix his never-ending self-esteem issues. While he is seeking godhood, he still thinks that, him, as he is now, will never be enough, and only by becoming God he can truly become worthy… of anything. If you romance him, he later apologizes to you, but also asks to let him explain to why the Godhood would be good for him, and you, as a couple. Gale wants to give you everything. The entire world. He wants to be the very best version of himself, for you, his lover. He thinks that he can only achieve that by becoming a God. He doesn’t realize that, maybe, without it, he can still be a valuable partner. He even talks to you about it, openly, saying that you deserve better. It is, yet again, in your power to remind him that you do not need him to be anything more than he is now. And, rather than with anger, he answers to you with a surprise. He truly, genuinely, can’t believe that you would take him as he is now. This is how deeply his trauma runs in his mind. And, once he finally believes you, this is where he finally calms down. This is finally when he accepts himself, and lets it all go. He is not repaired, but he is on his path towards healing. All because you, a player, convinced him, and reminded him of his value.

I think Gale’s approach towards things have deeply changed the perception of the players. Because he is in so much denial, people seem to just go along with what he says. He is proud of sleeping with Mystra - so people take it for what it is. Gale might not be your type, or even the most interesting companion to you compared to others, but I truly, genuinely think, that the hate he has received has been a little too much. Every companion has a burden, everyone expresses it differently, on their own pace. Gale has chosen the approach that makes the most sense in his situation. He is just a guy who was thrown into a mess made by the Goddess he worshiped at the young age. He is just someone who is trying to do good. And I hope that a small essay such as this helped and shed some light on his story.

Men can be groomed, they can be taken advantage of. I think it is our duty to also recognize it, and show a little patience. After all, Gale is not the first example of such abuse. And, sadly, won’t be the last.

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAnZHJtYkcg

#gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate gale #gale bg3 #essay #opinion

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feligayzed · 9 hours ago

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YEAH IM HERE AGAIN ABOUT TO ASK ABOUT YOUR FUNNY FISH MAN AU YEAH THATS RIGHT

Okay okay, so we've seen you absolutely are a firm believer in Animal sounds and behaviors Sebastian right?

Now it makes me curious.. do you think some of these habits he ever accidentally carried over into being back to his mostly human daily life? Whether is be some sounds, old behavior he just didn't scrap, or otherwise; any of them that might've stuck with him?

🥹🥹🥹 I'M SHAKING I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK

Oh they absolutely do ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ very much so. Wayyy back I was supposed to draw up some scenarios about this specific thing in mind but uh. Oopsie *executive dysfunction blast*

Being a Creature for over a decade comes with its quirks, many of which are not easy to shake...not that he'd even care to try to, tbh. Old habits die hard and he's just tired, man, he couldn't be bothered to rein it in to appeal to the public anymore— this is as good as it's gonna get and if you have a problem you can take it up with the wall

That being said, let's talk about em!! The most obvious is his lil ear fin thingies; they still very much respond to emotion and he's actually become quite reliant on them for nonverbal communication. As a matter of fact, he didn't realize just HOW much he relied on it until after his big ole tail disappeared and he remembered rather quickly that humans have extremely limited variations of social cues (no this isn't an autism moment what pfft.....totally)

Smiling was also an adjustment he had to acclimate himself to. He couldn't recall when baring his teeth became a sign of aggression/fear to him, but the discomfort other (well-meaning) people brought him was realized very early on. On that note, he tends to get snarly when troubled or anxious, so. A good chunk of the time LOL. A small inconvenience happens and his lip is twitching

AS FOR NOISES his vocal chords were pretty much returned back to normal, so physically he isn't capable of a lot of the ones he used to be able to do, but that doesn't mean he won't give it his best shot. Unconsciously. He never tries to purposefully recreate any of the sounds because he just assumed they would make themselves known whether he liked it or not LMAO (it would be because. Embarrassing. But he bid farewell to his dignity a LONG time ago and now he's just resigned). Like if he stubbed his toe or some shit he would hiss from deep in his chest, and that's about the extent of his current range 😭 now me personally I like to think that he can purr still but it is a Deep Dark Secret the likes of which are career-ending

And now misc thangs 🕺

he was weird about food for quite a while, and it took a lot of work with Pai to get over it. This kinda looked like: refusing to eat anywhere other than his room, refusing to go out for dinner, staring long and hard at the raw meats section in the supermarket and consequently making the butcher uncomfortable. You get the idea

He'll instinctively reach for his non-existent lure when he enters a dark room, effectively grabbing at nothing

Avoided bodies of water at all costs for a hot minute. Took to washing his hair in the sink while he begrudgingly worked through some things with his lovely spouse whom he is so grateful for

His bed? Nest. Painter? Making it every morning without fail

He doesn't have to worry about shedding anymore but the Trauma of the experience was so great, he is thoroughly lotioned

#pressure surface au #the brainworms #roblox pressure #pressure roblox #sebastian solace #sebastian pressure #pressure au #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME THIS OPPORTUNITY OOMFIE IM GENUINELY SOSO GLAD YOU ASKED #MUWAHHH

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tanjamikaelson · 18 hours ago

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BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 7

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7: | LAVANDER HAZE |

You and Rafe woke up late in the morning, the sun high in the sky, its light filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow across the room. The exhaustion from last night’s intense intimacy still clung to both of you, but neither of you was in any rush to move. You lay in his arms, savoring the warmth and comfort of his body pressed against yours. For Rafe, waking up to you, naked and nestled against his chest, felt surreal. He had dreamt about this moment for so long, and now that it was real, he couldn’t believe it. He traced lazy patterns on your skin, his fingers combing gently through your hair as he watched you sleep, his heart swelling with a possessive kind of pride. You were his, and he intended to keep it that way.

He couldn’t stop smiling, a wide, genuine smile that transformed his usual hardened expression into something softer, more open. He played with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. The silky texture was soothing, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of peace settle over him. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he couldn’t let you slip away. He’d do whatever it took to keep you by his side, no matter what anyone said. If people wanted to call it possessiveness, then so be it. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were here, in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

As you began to stir, Rafe’s heart skipped a beat. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, your face still relaxed from sleep. You looked up at him, blinking slowly, and then you smiled—a soft, sleepy smile that made his chest tighten with affection.

“Good morning, Rafey,” you murmured, your voice still husky from sleep. You shifted slightly, placing a gentle kiss on his chest before turning your head to look at him properly.

Rafe’s grin widened, his eyes shining as he gazed down at you. “It’s more than a good morning,” he said, his voice filled with a happiness he rarely felt.

You studied his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the warmth in his smile. “Do you remember last night?” you asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice. You couldn’t help but wonder if he remembered everything, considering he’d been high when it all started.

“Of course I remember.” Rafe’s tone was almost offended, his brow furrowing slightly. “How could you think I wouldn’t?”

“I thought because you were high—” you started, but Rafe cut you off, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his touch tender.

“Trust me, I sobered up as soon as I felt you touching me,” he said, his voice low, sincere. He held your gaze, wanting you to know how much last night meant to him, how much you meant to him.

“Really?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes.

“Yeah, really.” Rafe’s lips curved into a small, playful smile. “Though I was high on something else. On you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest. “I think I was too. On you.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes darkening slightly as he remembered the way your body had responded to him, the way you’d looked at him with such need, such trust. “You definitely were.”

The moment felt intimate like you were both wrapped in a soft, hazy bubble of shared happiness. But then the sound of your phone ringing shattered the calm, its sharp tone pulling you both out of the serene, tender moment.

“Is that my phone? Where is it?” you asked, looking around the room, your mind still a bit foggy from sleep.

“It’s probably where we left our clothes last night,” Rafe said, his voice light, teasing.

“Shit. It’s probably my mom,” you muttered, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. You scrambled out of bed, reaching for the t-shirt that was hanging over the back of a chair—Rafe’s t-shirt, which smelled faintly of him, comforting and familiar.

Rafe watched you move, his eyes following every step you took. Seeing you in his shirt, the fabric hanging loosely on your frame, stirred something possessive and protective in him. You looked so right, so perfect, and he couldn’t help but think how much he loved seeing you like this—wrapped up in him.

You found your phone among the pile of discarded clothes and picked it up, your heart racing as you saw your mother’s name on the screen. “Where are you, Y/N?” she demanded the moment you answered, her voice sharp with worry.

“I’m sorry. I slept over at Sarah’s,” you lied smoothly, glancing over at Rafe as you climbed back into bed beside him. His presence, his calm strength, made the lie easier to deliver.

“I was worried. I called you ten times already,” your mother said, her tone softening now that she knew you were safe.

“I know. But we kinda slept in, and I didn’t hear it,” you explained. It was the truth, just not the whole truth.

“Okay, just don’t sneak off again without telling me,” your mother said, her voice firm but no longer angry.

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll be back home later,” you assured her before ending the call. You barely had time to set your phone down before Rafe grabbed it, tossing it aside carelessly.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your shoulder, trailing soft, lingering kisses up to your neck. You felt yourself melt into his touch, your body relaxing against his as he whispered against your skin, “Wanna take a shower?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering at the thought of being close to him again. “Yeah, let’s take a shower.”

Rafe’s hands moved to the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you bare before him once more. His eyes roamed over your body, a possessive heat in his gaze that made your breath catch. He lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms holding you close as he carried you to the bathroom.

You giggled, the sound light and breathless, as he set you down on the cool tiles. The contrast between the cold floor and the warmth of his body was dizzying, and you leaned into him, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. The water cascaded over both of you, the steam rising around you, cocooning you in a world that felt separate from everything else.

Rafe’s touch was gentle, his hands gliding over your wet skin, exploring, reverent. He wanted so badly to touch you more intimately, to feel the slickness between your thighs again, but he held himself back. He knew it was your first-time last night, and he didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to risk hurting you. His restraint only made you want him more, made your heart swell with affection for this boy who could be so careful, so tender, knowing he is like that only towards you.

You reached up, your fingers threading through his wet hair as you pulled him down to meet your lips. The kiss was slow, and unhurried, the water running over your bodies as you moved closer, your skin sliding against his. You felt his hardness pressing against you, hot and insistent, and you moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the steady rush of the shower.

“Rafe,” you breathed, his name a plea, a promise, as his length slipped between your legs, the sensation making you shiver.

Rafe sucked in a sharp breath, his hands gripping your hips as he tried to control himself, to hold back the urge to take you right there, against the shower wall. He stepped back, his eyes dropping to his swollen, reddened tip, the sight of it against your soft, wet skin almost too much to bear.

You bit your lip, meeting his gaze with a look that sent a jolt of electricity through him. “What else can you teach me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded at your words, his mind flashing to images of you on your knees, your pretty mouth wrapped around him. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stay calm. He didn’t want to scare you, didn’t want to rush you into anything. “Have you ever given a handjob?”

You shook your head, and he almost laughed at himself for asking. Of course you hadn’t. But the thought of being the first, the only one to teach you, sent a thrill through him.

“Like this,” he murmured, guiding your hand down to his length, wrapping it around him. His breath hitched as he felt your fingers close around him, the sensation so new, so perfect that he had to close his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. “Firm, but not too firm. Move your hand back and forth, like this.”

He kept his hand over yours, controlling the pace until you got the hang of it. His voice was strained, his words coming out in broken, breathless gasps. “Much better. Yeah, much better.”

He let go, leaning back against the tiles, his eyes closed, his head tilted back as you watched his cock twitch in your grasp, precum glistening at the tip. Out of instinct, you reached up, collecting the fluid with your fingers, smearing it over his tip.

Rafe jolted, a gasp escaping his throat, his eyes snapping open. He saw the hesitation in your expression and quickly shook his head, his voice rough, desperate. “Don’t stop.”

You hesitated for only a second before moving to your knees, your body lowering onto the cool, hard tiles. Your hand wrapped around his length, your movements slow and tentative. Rafe’s breath caught as you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to give his tip a tentative, kitten-like lick. The salty taste of his precum coated your tongue, and the reaction it elicited from him was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, his body tensing as he struggled to keep his composure.

“What are you—oh!” Rafe’s voice was strained, his words catching in his throat as you took him further into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. You looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and curious as you experimented with your movements, your hand stroking the base of his cock while your mouth explored his tip.

The sight of you like this, on your knees before him, your lips stretched around him, was almost too much. His fingers found their way into your hair, gently gathering it into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. The sensation of his hand in your hair, the subtle pressure of his grip, sent a thrill through you, making your core tighten with anticipation.

You moaned softly, the sound vibrating around his length, and Rafe’s hips jerked forward involuntarily. He groaned, his head falling back against the tiles, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re—” His voice broke off as you took him deeper, your gag reflex kicking in as his cock hit the back of your throat.

"Just like that, so good. So fucking good." He praised you.

He forced himself to stay still, to let you set the pace, but it was almost impossible. The way your mouth felt around him, the way you looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes—it was driving him insane. He clenched his jaw, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

“You look so p-pretty with my cock s-stuffing your mouth,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, each word punctuated by a ragged breath. “Taking m-me so—fucking—well.”

He hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. There were things he wanted to say, things he’d fantasized about telling you, but he was afraid to push you too far, afraid you’d pull away. But the way you were looking at him, the needy, desperate look in your eyes, made him want to say it all.

“F-fuck, choking on my dick like such a good girl,” he continued, his voice trembling.

You pulled back suddenly, his cock slipping from your lips with a loud, wet pop. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth glistening with a mixture of saliva and his precum. For a moment, Rafe’s heart lurched, fear and regret tightening his chest. Had he gone too far? Had he scared you?

But before he could say anything, you were speaking, your voice soft and breathless. “I want you to cum in my mouth. I want to swallow like a good girl for you.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, a strangled sound escaping his throat as the words sank in. He watched, mesmerized, as you took him back into your mouth, your movements more confident, more assured. His hands tightened in your hair, his hips jerking forward as you bobbed your head, your tongue swirling around his length, your hand stroking him in time with your movements.

He was close, so close, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. “Fuck, Y/N—” His voice was a choked, desperate rasp as he fought to hold back, to let you have control, but it was impossible. The sight of you, the feel of your mouth around him, the sweet, sinful way you looked up at him with those needy, pleading eyes—it was too much.

His body tensed, his muscles locking as he came, the pleasure crashing over him in waves, intense and overwhelming. He groaned, the sound low and rough, as he spilled into your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair, holding you in place as he rode out his orgasm. You swallowed every drop, the salty, bitter taste filling your mouth as you took everything he had to give, your own body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

Rafe’s breathing was harsh and uneven as he came down from his high, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding in his chest. You pulled back slowly, releasing him from your mouth, your lips still slick with saliva, your cheeks flushed, your eyes dark with desire and satisfaction.

He reached down, his thumb brushing gently over your swollen, glistening lips. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice hoarse, filled with awe and something deeper, something softer. “You’re incredible.”

You smiled up at him, your heart still racing, your body humming with the lingering buzz of adrenaline and desire. “I just wanted to make you feel good,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost shy.

Rafe’s heart clenched at your words, a fierce, protective feeling swelling inside him. He knelt down, pulling you up into his arms, holding you close. His lips found yours in a tender, lingering kiss, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something to be cherished.

“You do, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart skip a beat. “You make me feel so fucking good.”

•°•°•°•°•°•

You and Rafe sat at the popular seaside restaurant, sharing a quiet lunch together. The sun glinted off the water, the gentle hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery creating a peaceful atmosphere around you. Despite the serene setting, you couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of unease. It had been a whirlwind of emotions between you two, and now, sitting here, you tried to absorb the reality of being with him outside the confines of stolen moments.

As you picked at your food, something caught your eye—a small, angry red mark on Rafe’s wrist. You hadn’t noticed it last night, everything had been such a blur of passion and emotion. But now, in the clear light of day, it stood out starkly against his skin.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the burn mark.

Rafe glanced down at his wrist, his expression nonchalant, almost dismissive. “Oh, Barry burned my arm,” he replied casually as if it were nothing more than a paper cut.

Your stomach twisted with concern. “Oh my god, Rafe. You really should stop messing around with him before something bad happens.”

Rafe shrugged, his tone casual and unconcerned. “Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

But you weren’t convinced. The thought of Barry, of the kind of people Rafe was associating with, filled you with dread. You furrowed your eyebrows, your worry was evident as you looked at him, trying to make him understand the seriousness of the situation.

Before you could say more, the sound of familiar voices interrupted you. Topper and Kelce approached, their presence shifting the mood instantly.

“What are the two of you doing together?” Topper asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. His tone was light, but you could sense the underlying curiosity. It was as if he knew something was different between you and Rafe, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Just having lunch,” Rafe replied smoothly, his voice steady, not caring if his friends suspected anything. You knew they had probably noticed the way his gaze always seemed to follow you, the way he acted differently around you. But Rafe was Rafe—he didn’t care what they thought, didn’t bother with pretense or secrecy.

Topper turned his attention to you, his gaze sharp. “Where is Sarah?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice casual. “I don’t know. I haven't heard from her since yesterday morning.”

“She must be with John B,” Topper said, his words laced with frustration. His jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. You could see the jealousy simmering beneath the surface, ready to boil over at any moment.

“Maybe you should stop being so jealous,” you said, your voice firm. You wouldn’t let him paint Sarah in a negative light, especially not when she was struggling to figure things out. “And I can’t believe you called her a whore.”

Topper’s face flushed with anger. “Isn’t that what she is? I mean, she cheated—”

“It just happened. She didn’t plan on cheating on you,” you interrupted, your voice rising in defense of your friend. You knew how much Sarah was struggling with her feelings for John B, how complicated everything had become.

“Of course, you will be on her side,” Topper snapped, his voice sharp and bitter.

“Of course. Whose side should I be on?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow, daring him to challenge you further.

Rafe and Kelce chuckled at the exchange, their laughter breaking the tension. Rafe seemed almost amused by the confrontation, his gaze flicking between you and Topper with a small, satisfied smile. He loved seeing you stand your ground, loved the fire in your eyes when you were defending someone you cared about.

Kelce, never one to miss an opportunity to be inappropriate, decided to chime in. "You think you-know-who, they’re scronking yet?" He made a crude gesture with his hands, imitating skin slapping together.

“Shut up,” Topper yelled, his voice strained with anger. You rolled your eyes, disgusted by Kelce’s childish behavior.

“What’s that sound? What’s that? They’re making that sound,” Kelce continued, ignoring the clear irritation in Topper’s voice and your glare.

“Do you think I wanna hear this right now?” Topper snapped, his voice louder, his frustration reaching a boiling point.

“Come on,” Rafe groaned.

“Seriously, not necessary,” you added, your voice sharp. The last thing you wanted was to be dragged into this immature conversation. You just wanted a moment of peace, a chance to enjoy your time with Rafe without everything else intruding.

“I’m trying to get my mind off it,” Topper muttered, his voice low, his eyes hard as he glared at Kelce.

“Calm down, all right? We’re just trying to make you feel better,” Kelce said, his tone defensive.

“It’s not funny. How is it funny?” Topper demanded, his voice rising again.

“This joke’s on her. Look who she’s with,” Rafe stated, his tone light, but there was an edge to it, a darkness that hinted at how he really felt about Sarah’s involvement with John B.

The heated argument was abruptly cut short by a loud shout. “Rafe Cameron!”

Everyone turned, their heads snapping toward the voice. Kelce squinted, trying to see past the crowd. “Who’s that?” he asked, looking over Rafe’s shoulder.

Rafe’s expression darkened, a sigh escaping his lips. “Barry.” He glanced at you, his eyes serious. “Y/N, stay behind me.”

Your heart raced as Rafe made his way toward Barry, the sense of foreboding you’d felt earlier coming back tenfold. You watched as Rafe approached him, your stomach twisting with anxiety. Barry was dangerous, and unpredictable. The thought of him hurting Rafe again made your blood run cold.

Barry was already arguing with a restaurant worker, his voice loud and aggressive. Rafe quickly stepped in, wrapping an arm around Barry’s shoulder and steering him away.

“Hey. What are you doing, man? You good?” Rafe asked, his voice steady but tense.

“No, I ain’t good, man,” Barry snapped, shaking his head, his eyes wild.

“All right, what—”

“Why’s your family think I’m just some bitch they can shit on?” Barry’s voice rose, drawing the attention of people nearby. “First, your dad kneecaps me in my house.”

Rafe’s posture stiffened, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his cool. “You got your money, Barry. You got your money.”

“That ain’t the point,” Barry spat, his face twisted with anger. “I’m asking you, what am I? Am I just some little bitch? Is that what your family looks at me like?”

“No. No,” Rafe tried to reassure him, but you could hear the strain in his voice.

“No! No!” Barry mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Okay, so then why is your little sister and her little surf rat friends running around stealing 25K out of my house? Can you tell me that?”

You felt a jolt of shock run through you. Sarah, stealing? It didn’t make sense. She would never do something like that. You looked at Rafe, trying to gauge his reaction.

Rafe’s eyes widened in surprise. “My little sister robbed you?”

“Yeah, Sarah robbed me. That’s why I’m here,” Barry snapped, his anger palpable, his eyes boring into Rafe.

“She won’t pick a dollar up off the street,” Rafe said, his voice calm but confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I look dumb?” Barry took a step closer, his face inches from Rafe’s. “You think I don’t understand what’s going on here? ‘Cause I’m telling you right now, you better sort this out with your sister, or else I am. ‘Cause I want my money.”

“Listen…” Rafe stuttered, his breath coming in shallow, anxious gasps. “...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The Pogues are all around Outer Banks stealing shit out of everybody’s house,” Barry shouted, his voice growing louder, more aggressive. “And you got no idea? Your sister’s involved in it.”

“Sarah Cameron, home invader?” Rafe scoffed, still skeptical, trying to reason with Barry. He placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder, attempting to calm him down. “You know how stupid that sounds?”

“How stupid you are?” Barry yelled, his voice echoing through the restaurant as he grabbed Rafe’s burned arm, shoving him roughly. “How many times I gotta deal with you? That’s 25K!”

Rafe let out a sharp yelp of pain, his face contorting as Barry’s grip tightened on his already injured arm. Something inside you snapped. You couldn’t just stand by and watch him get hurt again.

“Hey, leave him alone,” you said, your voice ringing out strong and clear, surprising even yourself. You stepped forward, your heart pounding, your body tense with a mixture of fear and anger.

Barry turned his gaze on you, his eyes narrowing, a sneer curling his lips. “You got no idea what you’re stepping into, sweetheart.”

“Sarah would never steal anything,” you shouted back, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides.

“Well, she did,” Barry snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

“Y/N, don’t,” Rafe warned, his voice strained as he tried to push you back gently. His eyes were pleading, silently begging you to stay out of this, to not get involved in something that could turn ugly.

But you couldn’t just stand by. You couldn’t let Barry hurt him. “Rafe,” you said, your voice firm, meeting his gaze with a steady resolve, “I’m not going to let him hurt you.”

Barry’s sneer deepened, his eyes darting between the two of you. “Look at this, huh? Got yourself a little girlfriend now?” His tone was mocking, and cruel, and it made your skin crawl. “Sort this shit out with your sister,” Barry snapped, his attention shifting back to Rafe. “I’mma get my money. If it’s not from you, it’s from her. Remember that. I’ll see you boys around.” His words were a warning, a threat that hung in the air long after he turned and walked away.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest, the adrenaline still thrumming through your veins. As soon as Barry was out of sight, Rafe let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had just been lifted off them. He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks. His touch was warm, and comforting, but you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing, the fear from the encounter lingering like a dark cloud. “I’m fine,” you assured him, leaning into his touch, trying to soothe the worry in his eyes. “But Rafe, this is getting out of hand. What if Barry tries to come after you—or Sarah?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger and something darker, something more dangerous. “He won’t touch her,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You could see the resolve hardening in his expression, the determination to protect his sister at any cost. But there was a shadow of doubt there too, a flicker of fear that he couldn’t quite hide. You knew he would do anything to keep Sarah safe, but you also knew how unpredictable Barry could be. The thought of Rafe putting himself in danger, of him getting hurt because of this, made your chest tighten with fear.

“I need to go find Sarah and figure out what’s going on,” Rafe said, his voice calm but filled with purpose. He was already thinking ahead, planning his next move.

“Okay,” you whispered, your hand lingering on his arm as if you could keep him close a little longer as if your touch could somehow protect him from what was coming. “Just… be careful, please.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I will,” he promised, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

He turned and headed towards his bike, where Topper was already waiting, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. You watched Rafe go, your heart heavy with worry, the uneasy feeling gnawing at your gut refusing to go away.

You knew he was strong and capable of handling himself in most situations, but this felt different. This felt dangerous. You couldn’t shake the fear that something terrible was going to happen, that this situation with Barry was spiraling out of control faster than any of you could manage.

As Rafe and Topper sped away, disappearing down the road, you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold onto the warmth of Rafe’s touch, trying to push back the creeping dread that seemed to settle over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

You wanted to help, to be there for him, but you didn’t know how. All you could do was stand there, feeling helpless and afraid, as the storm that had been building around you all finally began to break.

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