#but its just too entertaining not to think about

[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

————————

Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

————————

To Be Continued?

[uns4lted]

ɪ'ᴍ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

pairings: karasu tabito x gn!reader, otoyo eita x gn!reader, kenyu yukimiya x gn! reader tags/warnings: reader and karasu are already together, pre-relationship stage in otoya's and kenyu's! genre: fluff synopsis: the first time the boys realized that they're in love with you. boys being so giddy lol.

── .✦ karasu tabito

It was just a stupid crush, really.

At least, that’s what Karasu told himself in the beginning. Liking you had been easy. You made things fun, kept him entertained with your quick wit and little quirks. Being with you felt like a game he couldn’t lose, but he didn’t think too much about what it all meant. Love? That was too heavy for something that felt so light.

But then there was that moment.

It wasn’t anything big. Just an ordinary evening in his place. You were on the couch, reading a novel, while some random show played in the background. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with his own phone in hand, pretending to care about whatever it was on the screen.

You sighed, soft and quiet, but enough to pull his attention away. When he glanced up, you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was distant, you were caught in a thought you weren’t planning to share.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice casual, not expecting much of an answer.

“Nothing,” you said after a pause, your lips curving into a faint smile. “I just feel lucky, that’s all.”

You didn’t explain, didn’t even look at him for long. Instead, your hand found its way to his dark blue hair, brushing through it in a way that was both careless and comforting. It wasn’t the first time you’d done it, but something about the way you did it this time made his chest feel tight. You were so at ease that being with him was the most natural thing in the world.

He stayed quiet, watching as you went back to your book like you hadn’t just shifted his entire perspective. It wasn’t just what you said—it was how you said it, it wasn’t something you had to think about. Like being grateful for him was as simple as breathing.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Usually, he’d have some smart remark ready, some way to brush off whatever you were making him feel. But now? He just sat there, staring at you, wondering how he hadn’t seen it before.

He couldn’t pinpoint when the shift had happened. Maybe it was gradual, something that had been building all along. But in that moment, he knew with absolute certainty: this wasn’t just some crush or infatuation. It was deeper than that. You’d become something he didn’t think he needed, something he couldn’t imagine letting go.

Karasu leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. The warmth of your words lingered, settling into places he didn’t even realize had been empty.

Love wasn’t supposed to sneak up on him like this. Somehow, you’d done it anyway.

── .✦ otoya eita

This goofy womanizer doesn’t do love or some shit.

Otoya wasn’t the type to lose sleep over anyone. Flirting came easy, and leaving things just the way they were made it even easier. He knew how to have a good time, how to make someone laugh or blush, but feelings? Commitment? Nah, that wasn’t his thing. Relationships were messy, and Otoya didn’t stick around long enough to get caught in all that.

Or so he thought.

It was late, the kind of night where the city outside his window had shifted to a low hum. You were over, laid across his bed and flipping through a magazine you’d brought with you. He leaned against the headboard, half-listening to you ramble about something you’d found amusing in the pages.

“Look at this,” you said, your voice bright as you held up the magazine. The glossy picture was of some ridiculous piece of clothing—a neon-green sweater with feathers along the sleeves. “Can you imagine someone actually wearing this?”

Otoya smirked, the corner of his mouth tugging up lazily. “You’d pull it off.”

“Oh, please.” You laughed, the sound light and effortless, but your eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “You’re just saying that so I won’t roast your fashion choices next.”

“Hey, my style’s flawless, thank you very much,” he shot back, nudging your leg with his foot.

The banter was easy, the kind he thrived on. But he's bothered with the look you gave him, your smile plastered on your lips, the sparkle in your eyes that paused just a moment longer than it should have. That did something to him.

“You’re so full of yourself, Otoya,” you said, shaking your head, but your smile didn’t waver.

“And you love it though,” he retorted, his grin widening.

But as the words hung in the air, he realized how much he wished they were true.

You rolled your eyes and went back to your magazine, oblivious to the way his heart was suddenly pounding harder than it had any right to. He tried to shake it off, but it was no use. His gaze kept drifting back to you—how comfortable you looked.

He didn’t know what was worse: the way you didn’t seem to notice how much of a mess you were making of him, or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When you stretched out your arm, holding the magazine over to him, your fingers brushed his for just a second. It wasn’t anything special, just an ordinary moment. But for Otoya, it felt like everything else faded for a heartbeat.

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head when he didn’t respond right away.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice too casual. “Just tired.”

That night, after you’d left, Otoya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence felt too loud, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Heard your laugh. Felt the warmth of your smile.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rolling onto his side.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to want someone so badly it hurts. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

You weren’t just another thrill. You’d become something that had him turning and tossing in bed, wondering how the hell he’d let himself fall this hard.

── .✦ kenyu yukimiya

Kenyu had always been focused. Soccer demanded it, and so did modeling. Juggling both wasn’t easy, but he never complained. He’d chosen this path after all. What he hadn’t chosen or even planned for was you.

At first, he thought your support was just a pure act of kindness. You’d always been there, cheering him on, listening when he talked about the challenges of balancing his passions. But over time, it became clear that you weren’t just being polite. You genuinely cared—about his dreams, his struggles, even the small things he sometimes overlooked himself.

The realization didn’t hit him all at once. It came slowly, building with every little thing you did. Like today.

The two of you were at the mall, your idea after he mentioned needing new clothes for an upcoming shoot. Kenyu wasn’t bad at picking out outfits but you insisted he deserved a second opinion.

“Try this,” you said, holding up a sleek black jacket. “It’s simple but classy. Totally your vibe.”

He took it with a small smile, letting your enthusiasm guide him. You had an eye for these things, and he trusted your judgment more than he cared to admit.

As he stepped out of the fitting room, you were waiting, your expression lighting up when you saw him.

“See? I told you it’d look good,” you said, giving him an approving nod. “The fit’s perfect, and it goes with almost everything.”

He turned to the mirror, studying the way the jacket fit across his shoulders. It was nice, sure, but what stuck with him more was the way you looked at him. You weren’t just proud of the outfit but of him too.

"Didn't know you had such good taste." he said, half-teasing. “Maybe you should be my stylist.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d love to, but I think your team would have a thing or two to say about that.”

The two of you wandered through the store for a while longer, you occasionally holding up shirts or accessories, and him silently appreciating the way you paid attention to the smallest details. You truly cared about how he felt in them, about making sure he was confident and comfortable.

At some point, as you stood next to him, you were holding up a scarf and debating its practicality, then it hit him.

This wasn’t just about being a fashion guru or supporting his career. It was about you—your thoughtfulness, your sincerity, and the way you noticed and valued even the smallest things about him.

His chest tightened for a moment that he forgot how to speak.

“Kenyu?” you asked, tilting your head at him. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Just… thanks for helping me with this.”

“Of course,” you said, brushing it off like it was nothing. But to him, it wasn’t nothing.

After everything had settled, the two of you decided to leave the mall. His thoughts kept circling back to the moment. He couldn’t remember when it had begun, but he knew now that this was more than just appreciation for your support.

He is in love with you.

The realization was unexpected, but it left him feeling lighter, as if he’d discovered something he didn’t know he’d been searching for.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! masterlist

[mclacedes]

Let Them See (LH44)

a/n: writing angst wasn't helping my depressed ass at all so here's a smutty thought :)

summary: in which lewis has a controversially young girlfriend, who he suddenly isn't afraid of showing around

warnings: suggestive content, dirty talk, age gap, kind of sick, friends-to-lovers, secret relationship

WC: 1.9k

Everyone knew your relationship with Lewis was byword impulsive and complicated—not because you wanted it to be, but because of the circumstances you were in.

The 16-year age gap between you and Lewis didn’t sit well with everyone, making discretion your only option. You hid away together, sneaking around like teenagers, leaning on each other in any four-walled space. You lost count of how many times you and Lewis went to the rented villa on Lake Como, being able to take bites off each other everywhere possible.

You’d lost track of how many times you’d escaped to the rented villa on Lake Como, stealing moments to lose yourselves in each other.

And you liked it that way. The secrecy, the privacy—you’d been the one to insist on it.

You first met Lewis when you were 22, and he was 38. It was 2023, and your connection had been instant. You became best friends, growing closer with each passing day. On your 23rd birthday, he’d gifted you 23 of your favorite books, each one holding a handwritten note.

Now, at 24, with him at 40, the age gap felt striking, unavoidable. Yet, there was something about it that thrilled you, made your pulse race, your mind whirl, and your body ache with a want you couldn’t quite explain.

Now, it was all speculation for the fans and entertainment for the other drivers, who relished watching you and Lewis attempt to keep your composure in front of the cameras. Every stolen glance and lingering touch fed the rumors, the intrigue, the tension.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, you couldn’t care less about the cameras or what anyone thought.

It was December 7th, 2025—the night of the final race of the season. The night Lewis cemented his legacy, securing his eighth world championship and becoming the most decorated driver in Formula 1 history. The long-awaited eighth had finally arrived, and the weight of it, the joy of it, was almost too much to contain.

Everyone was at the afterparty—everyone except Charles, who had been Lewis’s fiercest competitor throughout the season. They’d gone head-to-head in countless races, but Charles ultimately finished third in the championship, with Lando getting closer and closer to the so-dreamed-of championship.

But in the end, only one person could take it home. And there happens to be only one GOAT. It had been Lewis’ from the very start.

The room was filled with those who weren’t envious but proud, celebrating his historic achievement. It was a night of laughter, toasts, and admiration for the man who had just become an eight-time world champion.

Lewis sat on a couch in the VIP section of the Abu Dhabi club, slowly breathing in the air of victory and sipping on the glass of champagne in his hand, its price not even a thought in his mind.

The air of victory didn’t reek of the podium’s champagne or the faint musk of the club, though. It smelled just like your Dior perfume, your vanilla soap and your vanilla shampoo.

Victory looked like the pretty girl sat on his thigh, bobbing her head to the sound of the all-too-loud music, sipping off her own glass of golden bubbly beverage.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear, his lips so close you could feel every word.

You chuckled, throwing your head back in that carefree way that always made him smile—it was one of the little things he thought was the cutest about you.

“Wanna leave already, Sir? We’re barely started partying,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave, his words vibrating against your chest. “I’ve got far more interesting things waiting at home, Y/N. And trust me, we can party all night there too.”

The weight of his tone sends a shiver down your spine, warmth blooming low in your belly as the meaning behind his words settled in, making your pulse quicken.

Suddenly, you are too aware of how short your dress is and how his hand palms your thigh. You swallow hard, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and the teasing curve of his lips only deepen your anticipation.

“Is that so?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, though you knew he could hear the challenge laced in your tone.

Lewis’s fingers traced idle circles on your thigh, his touch light yet deliberate. “You know it is,” he said, his grin growing darker, more possessive. “I’d even dare say… you like that idea, don’t you?”

“Outrageous!” you replied, flashing a mischievous smile, your teeth catching your bottom lip in a playful bite.

The warmth pooling in your belly grew as his hand slid up a fraction more, reaching the hem of your dress. His fingers toyed with the sequins, sending tiny sparks of sensation through your skin.

“Lewis…” you murmured, your tone caught between playful and cautious, though your smile faltered under his gaze. “We’re in public.”

His laughter rumbled low and deep, a sound that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then you’d better behave, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. His eyes never left yours, and his grin turned wicked as he added, “Because if you keep looking at me like that…” He let the words linger, charged and heavy with intent. “I might just have to take you right here.”

Your breath hitched, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through you as his words sank in. His hand lingered at the hem of your dress, just enough to tease, to test your resolve.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying your feigned confidence.

Lewis’s smirk deepened, his gaze never breaking from yours. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around you, “you’d not only let, you’d beg me to do so.”

Heat flushed through you, and you struggled to keep your composure under his piercing gaze. The music around you seemed to blur into white noise, the club melting away until it felt like it was just the two of you, locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Right… Then what if I told you I would absolutely love you to take me right here?” you said, batting your eyelashes as you looked into his soul through his eyes.

Lewis could feel his pants getting too tight around his crotch as you kept looking at him.

Lewis’s smirk grew even darker, the intensity in his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “Shit, love…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, rich and velvety, making a mess on your panties. “I have to remind you just how dangerous it is to play games you can’t win.”

The heat between you was palpable, a private flame burning brighter with every second. The noise of the club, the thrumming bass, the distant laughter—they all faded into oblivion. It was just him, just you, and the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

“Well, I’m not afraid of losing,” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe I want to see just how far you’d go, Lewis.”

His grip on your thigh tightened, and his dark eyes dropped briefly to your lips, before returning to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He was holding on by a thread, and you could tell he was teetering between self-control and giving in.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone a warning laced with hunger.

You tilted your head, your confidence unwavering as you batted your lashes again. “Oh, except I do,” you replied softly, your voice dripping with challenge.

Lewis shifted in his seat, the tightness in his pants making his restraint all the more difficult. His jaw clenched briefly, his free hand resting on the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt through you.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

But regret was the last thing on your mind. You leaned in, your breath warm against his cheek as you whispered, “Prove it.”

The heat between you was undeniable now, a private storm building despite the crowd around you. The world didn’t matter—the cameras, the whispers, the flashing lights. It was just him, just you, and the pull that neither of you could resist.

And as his lips brushed the shell of your ear again, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

He gently nudged you off his lap, rising to his feet. Taking your hand in his, he led you toward the exit. But just as you reached the door, a sudden burst of cheers echoed from the VIP bar.

Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Alex Albon were all staring at you two, grinning like they’d just caught wind of the hottest gossip in the room.

You smile, your cheeks flushing slightly, and bury your face in Lewis’ chest, hiding your laughter. He chuckles softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back. As you step away, you look up to find him casually flipping off his co-workers with a playful grin.

A mischievous spark ignites within you, and without missing a beat, you mirror his action, flipping them off with a smirk of your own.

Lewis catches your move, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches you mirror him. His eyes gleam with approval, his playful side clearly taking over.

“That’s my baby,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he steps closer, his arm brushing against your shoulders, wrapping around your neck possessively.

The group of drivers, now aware of your shared gesture, laughs and shakes their heads, but their amusement only fuels your defiance. The tension between you and Lewis grows electric even when you two stop flipping the guys off, the playful challenge still lingering in the air.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the flashing lights, the cameras capturing every second of your interaction. The bright flashes momentarily blind you, but it's the weight of their gaze on both of you that makes your pulse race. It’s as if the entire world is watching, amplifying everything—the chemistry, the defiance, the thrill of the moment.

“Lewis…” you murmur, your voice low and laced with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Lewis doesn’t flinch at the attention, his smirk only deepening as he locks eyes with you. “Let them see. Let them gossip,” he murmurs, his thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin. “We’ve got this.”

Your heart pounds faster, the electricity between you undeniable. You hold his gaze, a playful yet daring smile curling on your lips.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, his voice a quiet promise, a declaration of everything you both are, everything you’ve been in that moment.

And as the flashes of the cameras continue, you both walk hand in hand toward the door, leaving the noise, the chaos, the spotlight behind. All that matters now is the intoxicating pull between you two, and the freedom of knowing that whatever the world says, you’ve got each other.

The night belongs to you. And that’s more than enough.

[pillowspace]

Hihi!! Could I have some ISAT fic recs? Hurt/comfort is my fav but anything good is good~ Thank you!

I've read 200 ISAT fics, I'm gonna really have to think on which ones to put

Okay, here's your recs from my 200 fic scroll in no particular order <3 There's so many fics I like that I didn't put here, but I had to be picky about it so I didn't just put down everything I had

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victim of your own creation by dysphoriahighschool

Siffrin has craved blood for as long as they can remember. After so many years of wandering, he's come to Vaugarde in hope of finding answers, just as the King's Curse begins freezing the country in time. He's quickly losing hope, but when they come across a small group determined to save Vaugarde from the King, Siffrin decides to join them. They can't get the answers they want if the country gets frozen in time, after all. They'd never traveled with other people before. Siffrin doesn't expect to grow attached to any of them, but as time goes on, the thought of leaving them hurts more and more. Worse yet, they refuse to even entertain the thought of one of them discovering what he is and what he's done. They just know that if they find out, they'll hate them.

Words: 192,175 | Chapters: 32/?

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Stagger on Backwards by entryn17

[Ha… Ah?]

The fist opens. Hand turns. Fingers twirl. Again. And Again. You watch with mounting horror as your hand moves on its own, the actions becoming more frantic, more jittery, your chest starts to heave, stomach muscles spasming.

(Loop–)

[Stardust–]

They’re in your body. They’re in your body.

⯍

Or, after experiencing hundreds of grueling loops, Siffrin suddenly wakes up 3 months before they even started, on a bed in an infirmary, bandages wrapped tightly around their newly missing eye. Loop is there with them, too.

Words: 15,213 | Chapters: 3/?

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UNCANNY ALL ALONG by entryn17

You can… you can still fix this. If you can just muster up enough want, you, both of you can come back from this.

“You can’t come back from anything! Hundreds of days spent in stasis, in your own personal handcrafted hell, an ice cold inferno – you think you’re the same person you were before you laid down on that meadow?”

✧

Or, trauma changes you, often in ways that leave you unrecognizable to even yourself. Now freshly out of the loops and rough around the edges, Siffrin with the help of their friends has to navigate not being the person they remember.

Words: 33,629 | Chapters: 8/?

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Even in my fantasy, I can't commit to believing by Loafabun

You’re not sure what to think of Loop.

So far, you’ve come to two rather obvious conclusions during your time around them.

1) They’re… a star.

2) You don’t think they like you that much.

Words: 18,275 | Chapters: 3/3

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Human After All by dunkalfredo

Isabeau, freshly recovered from burnout after rushing through graduate school, stumbles across an ad for a lab position at the research institute where his idol, Dr. Odile Yamamoto, conducts her work. Willing to risk another bout of burnout to potentially work with the Dr. Yamamoto, he applies for the position and gets the job. However, in the process of applying, it quickly becomes clear that something sinister is happening at this institute. He decides to go forward and accept the offer—only to find himself in way over his head in a conspiracy far bigger than himself.

(Or: Modern AU/Sci-fi. Isabeau goes back into the world of science after swearing it off only to end up in the Vaugarde equivalent of Area 51 and finds Siffrin, a shapeshifter of unknown origins, trapped deep underground in a padded cell. Unfortunately, he falls in love. Is their romance doomed? Could Siffrin ever escape? What is Siffrin, anyway? And, importantly—how does Odile factor into all of this?)

Words: 33,697 | Chapters: 3/8

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The Funeral of Siffrin No Last Name by Kamary (SERIES of fics about ghost Siffrin)

"Ha, like, cut your ashes in equal parts like a pizza?"

(In a timeline that can not and will not take place, Siffrin dies. Unlike other times, he stays dead. Sort of.)

Words: 18,969 | Works: 3

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Inutile by blueshine

Mirabelle doesn't know what to do. Not with her life, not with her faith, not with her own memory. Why does it feel like she's always forgetting something important?

Mirabelle is the Housemaiden. Isabeau is the Fighter. Odile is the Researcher. Bonnie is the Kid. And that's everyone!

It's raining in Dormont. If clouds cover the stars, are they still there?

Separate Sifloops-

Words: 173,378 | Chapters: 23/34

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What became of you? by goldviola (Note: this one can get dark. I'm including it because I like it, but only read it if you're in that kind of mood)

After the world returned to normal, and everyone was safe and together once again, Isabeau noticed Siffrin's state. He knows they endured far beyond what he could ever hope to understand.

So a vague, earnest wish, mostly symbolic, was made, folded into a star shaped leaf gifted by a little girl.

I wish I could truly understand Siffrin, and always be there to help and love him.

Isabeau had no way of knowing The Universe would listen.

—

Or: Isabeau gets stuck in his own time loop, and does everything in his power to change it.

Words: 27,746 | Chapters: 1/1

---

Of Stars and Longing by Raaj

Months after saving Vaugarde together, Isabeau spots Siffrin lingering outside the window of his clothing shop. Naturally, he's excited! The Universe granted his wish!

...It still feels a little bad he had to wish for it, though. And something seems off with Siffrin.

Words: 4,979 | Chapters: 2/2

---

The love persists through it all. (The love persists through time.) by Pixxyofice

You are standing in front of a building. Nothing else is around- just a building. The building has a sign above a single door in big letters: TIME LOOP SURVIVORS SUPPORT GROUP. Hanging from that sign is a smaller sign reading Multidimensional!

... What the....

[...]

You let go of the door and look up as it clicks shut behind you.

You see

your family.

---

siffrin meets up with versions of his family who have suffered like he did. is this a blessing or a curse?

Words: 12,015 | Chapters: 1/?

---

Follow the stars back home by Loafabun (note: I haven't actually finished this fic, but I'd like to!)

There's an island north of Vaugarde. You were never able to remember its name. So why now? Why after all this time?

It's so close. You can see it now.

You want to go home.

Inspired by a post on Tumblr by @/auncyen!

Words: 77,781 | Chapters: 16/16

---

Thank you, kind wizard. For making me a frog. by Spinning_Planet_of_Love

With Siffrin's timelooping journey at an end, he walks away with a LOT of new information and trauma to process. Moving forward is a difficult feat, even with his family by his side.

Mirabelle suggests that, perhaps, keeping a journal to organize these thoughts and communicate his feelings to the others may help, so he decides to give it a try.

-

Contains spoilers for ALL content in ISAT, including achievements and quests dialogue, and eventually the epilogue too.

Words: 74,662 | Chapters: 18/?

---

Bleeding in Monochrome by JustSalPals

You're the first one to notice.

(After the events of the game, red stayed in this world of black and white.)

Words: 3,061 | Chapters: 1/1

---

And if I were not myself, would this be easier? by rabbit_soup

Siffrin and his party's journey to Bambouche, and how he needs to learn to deal with what happened to him during the loops. Between nightmares, regaining his humanity, and his new-found PTSD, Siffrin is sure he's being a burden to his family. They, however, think otherwise.

Hopefully they'll make it to Bambouche in one piece.

Or

Siffrin is traumatized and his friends love him a whole lot.

Words: 63,086 | Chapters: 13/?

---

Natural Satellite by dirtbagtrashcat

After a hundred miserable loops, Siffrin makes a wish. Isabeau gets caught in the crossfire.

(…yes, it’s another Isa Loops AU. but hear me out! rock might beat scissors, but there’s no stone in the cosmos that can resist the gravitational pull of a star.)

Words: 55,043 | Chapters: 14/14

---

Bloom by Level99Eevee

After breaking free of the loops, Siffrin is more than ready to move on and enjoy life again. They’re with their family—their friends—for another journey, one without the King’s Curse nipping at their heels, and everyone will be together for the foreseeable future. So Siffrin is fine. Great, even! The others don’t need to know that the aftermath of their experience in Dormont still hangs heavy as a noose around their neck.

They just need to get over it.

-

Or: Siffrin has trauma, learning to open up is a process, and the others realize the loops left deeper scars than previously thought.

Words: 41,445 | Chapters: 7/7

To Cut You Open With a Knife and Find Your Sacred Heart by Hexea_Art

They didn't know how they remembered but they both knew that there are legends about these fae doppelgangers, that they wish for nothing more than to steal the heart of the person whose face they stole, for power, for acceptance, to trick more people, to lessen how uncanny they could be.

Either way, it's a death wish to be around someone who shares the same face.

So of course Siffrin and Loop decided to travel together.

(Aka an ISAT changeling AU)

Words: 73,358 | Chapters: 19/21

---

raconte-moi qu’on puisse crier tout bas by bibliomaniac

After everything, Loop is struggling to find their place in the world. Siffrin is struggling to adjust to life outside the loops. Isabeau is struggling to balance his love for Siffrin with his need to keep them safe, alongside his own worries about Changing. Politely, things could be better!

But when Loop joins the party on their journey, things tilt even more drastically off course. They'll all need to reconcile their past with their present growing feelings and with the future they're beginning to want. Maybe they'll even do it, too.

It will just blinding suck along the way.

Words: 100,632 | Chapters: 17/?

---

ghostlight by Kittenixie

ghostlight - a single lamp placed on stage to keep the theatre from being in total darkness after everyone’s gone.

After trying and failing to kill Siffrin to take his place, Loop tries to disappear. Siffrin makes them stay. They figure things out together.

Staying with Siffrin's party in Dormont's House of Change, Loop starts down the long, winding path towards recovery, carefully trying to navigate the complicated knot of trauma and grief that the loops have left behind.

Words: 86,075 | Chapters: 24/24

Sequel is back to one | Words: 71,525 | Chapters: 14/?

[1425fivefive]

ANNNND then one more but like...i'll be thinking of 23423432 more i'll just feel bad sending you like six prompts...

Charlando + forced orgasm

inspired by wren's amazing prompt fill, rereading captive prince, and me spending way too much time thinking about rancid charlando, i wrote this. additional kinks include chastity, breathplay, and ruined orgasm. major trigger warnings for the, like, extremely dubious consent veering into noncon associated with forced orgasms, sex slavery, and the general background violence of my made-up faux-medieval setting (for the kink prompt asks) 💕

‘You are very pretty for a slave,” Charles observes, cupping Lando’s chin in his hand, turning Lando’s face this way and that.

Charles glances over Lando’s shoulder at the servant who escorted Lando to Charles’s chambers from the slave quarters. “Where did they find him?”

“A brothel in the city, Your Highness. He was servicing one of your advisors, who thought you might take a special interest in him.”

Charles hums, eyes flicking back to Lando, studying Lando closely.

Lando tries to keep his face impassive, the blank expression he’s seen on the other pleasure slaves.

“You remind me of someone,” Charles murmurs, brown furrowing.

Lando works hard not to react, not to give away that he likely reminds Charles of his thirteen-years-younger self. The tiny boy who had spent the summer at the palace, getting lost in the palace gardens, eating meals in the palace hall, practicing archery with Charles’s weaponsmaster. 

Still, Lando had been confident Charles would not recognize him. Charles had already been next in line for the throne when Lando had visited the palace. He’d been too distracted by lessons and weapons training and chasing every pretty serving girl and stable boy to pay any attention to Lando. They hadn’t exchanged a single word that entire summer, Lando contenting himself to staring wistfully at Charles from afar. Charles had been beautiful, even then.

Lando knows that if Charles recognizes him, the game is over. That he’ll be thrown in the dungeons and likely executed as a traitor, punished for his uncle’s uprising.

But Lando forces himself to remain calm, staring passively at the floor, at Charles’s perfectly-shined boots. He reminds himself that he hasn’t set foot in the palace in over a decade, that no nobles have visited his uncle in even longer, his uncle’s vocal displeasure with the king, Charles’s father, enough to scare them away lest they be branded as traitors. And Lando is no one. A third son with no lands and no prospects.

It’s why he agreed to his uncle’s plan, why he let his uncle’s allies in the palace arrange for Lando to become a pleasure slave, to hopefully worm his way into Charles’s bed. Get close to the prince, learn his secrets. His uncle had promised him his own lands if he succeeded. It had seemed a better choice than joining a monastery.

Now, with the heavy weight of the cuffs around his wrist, the collar around his neck, and the tight cage around his cock, Lando wonders if perhaps he would have been better off in the monastery.

But he’s here now, cuffed and caged and trapped, and Charles is running his palm down Lando’s chest, watching Lando carefully. Lando lets out a small, surprised squeak when Charles pinches one of his nipples tightly between his fingers. 

“Ah,” Charles says, lips quirking. “Sensitive.”

Lando’s cheeks heat. He wonders if it’s normal for pleasure slaves to blush simply from having their nipples toyed with.

But Charles seems to enjoy it, brushing his thumb lazily over Lando’s nipple, smirking when Lando lets out a small whimper.

“Yes,” the servant says. “It’s why your advisor thought you might—enjoy him.”

It’s humiliating, being spoken about like a plaything, a toy to keep Charles entertained. Lando tries not to acknowledge the way his cock swells in its cage at the thought, pushing painfully at the bars.

Charles seems to notice, his eyes dragging down to Lando’s crotch, eyes sparking at the sight of Lando’s trapped cock desperately trying to harden.

“Leave us,” Charles orders, still staring at Lando’s cock.

Lando’s stomach flips at the sound of the door slamming behind the servant, at the realization that he’s completely alone with Charles. Charles’s to do with as he wishes. It’s exactly what Lando wanted but a wave of adrenaline rushes through him all the same, a fight or flight response kicking in now that he’s well and truly trapped. He feels a drop of pre-come drip from the tip of his cock onto the floor.

“Kneel,” Charles orders. He says it almost casually, as if he knows there’s no world in which Lando would disobey.

Lando sinks to his knees, ashamed by how easily he goes. He knows it’s what’s expected of him but it doesn’t stop the hot flush of shame that curdles in his belly.

“Good,” Charles murmurs, carding a hand through Lando’s hair. “Now take out my cock.”

Lando hates himself for the way his dick throbs at Charles’s words. He brings his hands to the lacings of Charles’s trousers, undoing the fastenings and tugging them down Charles’s thighs.

Charles’s cock is already half-hard, firming up in front of Lando’s eyes. Lando has to bite back a moan at the sight, an awful reminder of his own cock aching desperately in its cage, trapped and needy.

“Good boy,” Charles says, fingers tightening in Lando’s curls. “Suck me. I want to see if you are any good with your mouth.”

Lando takes a shaky breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

He knows he needs to make this good, that if he doesn’t impress Charles he’ll be summarily dismissed to the slave quarters. He wonders if his uncle would rescue him or if he’d let Lando rot in the palace, let Lando be used and fucked by visiting nobles until Lando ages out and is sent to the kitchens or sold off to a brothel. Lando’s heart pounds as he realizes his uncle would almost certainly leave him here.

As Lando leans forward, licking tentatively over the head of Charles’s cock, he begins to process the predicament he’s found himself in.

An involuntary, distressed noise spills out of him, and he tries to disguise it by wrapping his lips around Charles’s cock. He sinks down slowly, blinking up at Charles as he takes Charles deep, trying to look every bit the obedient slave.

Charles’s lips part as he hits the back of Lando’s throat, Lando trying to breathe through his nose, tears welling in his eyes when Charles pushes his cock a few centimeters deeper, cutting off Lando's airflow.

Lando sputters, gasps, hands scrabbling at his thighs, but he lets Charles hold him there, even as panic starts to set in, even as he begins to worry Charles might keep him there until he passes out. He forces himself to stare up at Charles, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Just as Lando starts to believe Charles will never let him go, Charles’s grip on Lando’s hair loosens and he slides his cock back, just enough to let Lando take a gasping breath through his nose.

“You are quite good at that,” Charles says idly, voice casual as if he wasn’t trying to choke Lando moments ago. He starts to fuck Lando’s mouth lazily, regarding Lando cooly as if they’re having a casual conversation.

Lando’s cock tries desperately to stiffen between his legs. He flushes, humiliated by his arousal, even as tears slip down his cheeks, even as his heart races, panicked and stuttering. There’s something about Charles’s dismissive tone, his total confidence that his every wish will be obeyed, that has Lando’s cock leaking over the bars of its cage.

As Charles fucks Lando’s mouth, Lando feels pressure against his caged cock, something firm and hard. Lando tries to ignore it, tries to focus on licking and sucking and drooling around Charles’s cock. But the pressure increases, the bars of the cage digging painfully into his swollen cock.

Lando whimpers around Charles’s cock, hips jerking, seeking out the pressure even as it hurts, even as it aches. His eyes flick down to the floor and he moans when he realizes Charles is pressing the sole of his boot down on his caged cock, digging into the tender skin. He lets out a distraught sob, starting to rut against Charles’s boot.

“That’s it,” Charles murmurs, still fucking Lando’s mouth. “Make yourself feel good.”

Lando makes an anguished noise. He wants to pull off Charles’s cock and point out that none of it feels good, that he can’t feel anything with his cock locked away. But it does feel good, in a horrible, unsatisfying way. Almost like the knowledge that he won’t come makes him even more desperate for it, and he drags his tender cock against the sole of Charles’s boot, staring up at Charles with a distraught expression, moaning around Charles’s cock.

Charles keeps Lando there for what feels like an eternity, long enough that Lando forgets everything except the ache in his jaw as Charles fucks his mouth, the slight lightheadedness from breathing through his nose for so long, the skin of his cock sore and raw from rubbing against the hard sole of Charles’s boot. He forgets why he’s here, forgets every moment of his life other than this moment, wonders if he might never exist again anywhere else.

He’s dazed when Charles finally pulls out of his mouth, finally lifts the toe of his boot off Lando’s cock. His face is wet with tears and spit, cock dripping helplessly in its cage.

“Yes,” Charles says, his voice slightly strained. “I think it is safe to say you are good with your mouth.”

Lando moans, a flush of pride running through him at Charles’s words. But it’s followed quickly by a lash of shame, of being so desperate for praise and attention that he feels warm at the barest hint of it from a man who owns him, who Lando would knife in the gut if he could.

But Lando reminds himself that he’s playing a role. That he can let himself whimper and moan and enjoy Charles’s words, that it will make it easier to convince Charles that Lando’s nothing more than a pleasure slave, desperate and eager to please. If Lando, the real Lando, feels anything from the way Charles treats him, no one needs to know. Lando will happily take it to his grave.

He tries desperately not to think of what his uncle would say if he saw him like this, caged cock pressed under Charles’s boot, lips swollen and used, neck and wrists rubbed raw from the cuffs.

“Up,” Charles says.

Lando’s legs tremble as he climbs to his feet, a newborn foal taking its first steps. Charles catches him when he stumbles, murmuring, “Careful.”

Charles helps Lando to the bed, helps him sprawl back against the pillows. Charles tugs the rest of his clothes off and Lando can’t help but notice how gorgeous he is. He looks every bit the prince, shining and strong and golden. For a moment, Lando sees a flash of the boy he loved as a child.

But Charles climbs onto the bed and pushes a thumb against Lando’s rim, slipping in slightly. “I will have to see how well you take a cock here, of course,” Charles says casually.

Lando whimpers even though he already opened himself up in the slave quarters. He knows the slide will be easy. But he can’t help but imagine how desperate he’ll feel when Charles fucks him, how badly his cock will ache as Charles pushes inside.

Lando starts to roll onto his belly but Charles stops him, pushing his shoulders back against the mattress, keeping him on his back.

“Like this,” Charles murmurs. He brings a hand to Lando’s swollen cock, finger teasing over the dripping head. “I like seeing you desperate.”

Lando lets out an awful, low sob, but his thighs fall open, making space for Charles between them.

“Good,” Charles murmurs, resting his hands on Lando’s thighs, pushing and opening him up further. “You have had no training as a pleasure slave, yes? Only common brothels?”

“Yes,” Lando says. It’s the first word he’s spoken and he winces at the rawness in his voice, throat used and sore from Charles fucking it for so long.

But Charles looks pleased hearing it, and he reaches for a vial on the bedside table, pouring oil onto his hand and slicking up his cock.

“You have good instincts,” Charles says, casually as he pushes in, Lando gasping at the sudden intrusion. “Those can be very hard to teach,” Charles continues, hauling one of Lando’s legs over his shoulder, sliding in deeper. 

It rips a raw, needy moan from Lando and Charles groans at the sound, bringing a hand up to toy with Lando’s nipples.

“I think you like being good,” Charles muses, fucking Lando in earnest, the only hint that he’s affected at all the slight strain in his voice. “Like knowing you are useful for something.”

Lando whimpers but he doesn’t say anything, just watches Charles fuck him steadily, watches his trapped cock leak needily, his balls full and heavy.

Charles brings a hand down to play with Lando’s balls, tracing the tender skin, cupping the swollen flesh, eyes fixed on Lando’s face.

Lando’s never paid much attention to his balls, mostly ignored them whenever he touched himself. But they’re so sensitive it hurts, full of come, aching to be emptied. It’s been weeks since Lando came for the last time, weeks since he was locked in his cage. When Charles cups his hand around them and squeezes, Lando lets out a high scream, eyes squeezing shut, head thrashing to the side.

“Fuck,” Charles pants and when Lando forces his eyes open he finds naked desire on Charles’s face, his mask of cool composure finally slipping. When Charles sees Lando looking he tries to make his face blank. But Lando can see the lingering hunger in Charles’s eyes, the want. It makes Lando clench tightly around Charles’s cock, makes Charles groan and turn his head to the side to nip at Lando’s calf that’s slung over his shoulder.

“You know that it is possible to come in the cage,” Charles says, voice ragged as he keeps tugging and squeezing at Lando’s balls. “It hurts, but you should not be so full all the time.”

Lando whimpers. His cock and balls are already so sore, so tender, needy and aching, that he can’t imagine how much it will hurt if he comes. Can’t imagine how awful it will feel coming while his cock is unable to stiffen, drooling uselessly over the bars of his cage.

“I don’t—I’m fine like this,” Lando whispers, hand jerking down to cover his cock and balls, hide them away from Charles’s roaming hands.

But Charles bats Lando’s hand away and says, “Hands by your head. You will never touch yourself here.” Charles grabs Lando’s cock to make his meaning clear, pushing a desperate whimper out of Lando, Lando’s cock swelling painfully under Charles’s hand. “This is mine, yes?”

Lando sobs, cock blurting pre-come against Charles’s hand, but Lando drops his hands by his head and forces himself to nod.

“Good boy,” Charles murmurs.

With that, he drops his hold on Lando’s cock and starts fucking Lando slow, deep, aiming for Lando’s prostate with each thrust. Lando’s prostate feels horribly oversensitive, everything about him tender and painful from being denied for so long, his rim fluttering around Charles, trying to pull him in, push him out.

Lando cries on Charles’s cock, tears slipping down his face as he realizes how completely Charles owns him. His cock, his hole, his body. He cries even harder when he realizes how desperately his cock is trying to stiffen, how much he’s leaking as Charles fucks him, how needy he feels for Charles’s cock, his mouth, his hands.

His body draws tight as Charles keeps fucking him, back arching off the mattress, hands squeezing into fists, head tipping back against the pillows, letting out pained gasps as his cock pushes helplessly at the cage, more and more painful as Charles drags him closer to his orgasm.

“Don’t,” Lando gasps, fingers digging into the pillow, toes curling as Charles’s cock pushes him to an orgasm he doesn’t want, to an orgasm he knows will hurt and ache and pinch, pointless and ruined.

Charles ignores him, brings a thumb to rub over the swollen tip of Lando’s cock, the slide slick and easy with how much Lando’s leaking. Lando sobs at the feeling, head thrashing against the pillow. It feels like Charles is touching an exposed nerve, like Charles has dug into the core of him and pressed a live wire to the center of his chest.

“Stop,” Lando sobs, even as he presses up against Charles’s hand, spilling more against Charles’s fingers. “I can’t—I don’t want to come, please.”

Lando can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, can’t believe he’s begging Charles not to make him come.

But Charles ignores him, pressing his thumb firmly against Lando’s dick, and murmurs, “You need it.”

“Don’t,” Lando moans, eyes flying open, shaking his head rapidly. “Don’t make me come, Charles, hurts, please. I don’t want—”

A slap rings through the room, loud and sharp and smacking.

Lando doesn’t realize what’s happened for a moment, can’t process anything except the white hot, excruciating shock of pain burning through the core of him, his entire body aching like a bruise, everything in him drawing tight, hunching in.

And then his cock is spilling over the bars of its cage, pulsing wave after wave of come, Lando’s entire body shaking, shaking, shaking, painful and awful and aching, his cock throbbing with each pulse of come.

Lando realizes, then, that Charles slapped his balls. That Charles slapped his balls hard, hard enough to echo around the room and Lando came from it, is still coming from it, clenching helplessly around Charles’s cock, sobbing as he watches himself come.

“No,” Lando gasps, horrified and ashamed and desperately, desperately aroused, more aroused than he’s ever been in his life, all while he spills endlessly, the pain steadily building as his orgasm drags on, wrenched out of him by Charles’s hands and cock.

Lando's hands twitch towards his cock as if he can do something to stop it, as if he can force himself to stop coming, put an end to the awful, unsatisfying release. But Charles catches his wrists and presses them back against the mattress, pinning Lando to the bed, making him feel it.

Charles starts to fuck him again before Lando’s finished coming, moaning at the sight of Lando’s cock spilling more come with each push of Charles’s hips, Lando shivering and sobbing underneath him, trying to escape the sensations coursing through him.

“God,” Charles says breathlessly. “You really needed it.”

Lando nods, shakes his head, can’t figure out what he’s feeling, what he needs, feels like he can’t string a single thought together.

But as Charles starts to fuck him in earnest, chasing his own orgasm, Lando tries desperately to remember why he’s here. Tries to picture himself slitting Charles’s throat and how much he’ll enjoy it, hating the part of him that can’t help but think he won’t enjoy it nearly as much as this.

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: t cw: implied car wreck, traffic, smoking tags: pining idiots, pre-steddie, mentioned Buckingham, word count: 928

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "traffic"

-

“Remember when you had the hots for Tiffani?” Eddie asked, his feet kicked up on the dashboard as he relaxed into the corner of the seat.

“Why is she the one everyone holds against me?”

“Because she made you a doll…of yourself.”

“So? You made a little guy that was me, hand-painted and everything,” Steve shook his head and grabbed the cigarettes.

Eddie knew he was pushing the guy’s buttons and should probably tread lightly but it was so fun and almost too easy. Plus, there wasn’t anything else to do. All they had for entertainment beyond riling up Steve was watching the daylight slowly disappear. Even the radio couldn't save them as they conserved gas.

He watched the cigarette find its home between Steve’s lips and fought every urge to hold his lighter out, lit and desperate for the closeness it’d require. Instead, Steve stared off into the horizon and waited for the lighter in the van to warm up.

“That’s different. First of all," Eddie started, finger to the sky. "You asked me to make that. I didn’t do it for fun and I never sneakily cut your hair to use for realism.”

“Neither did Tiffani.”

“You sure about that, I swear we all saw a little bald patch for a while.”

“You could, ya know, you could walk to Indianapolis. I think you’d probably beat me there,” Steve huffed.

It was so perfectly Steve that it made Eddie want to scream. He was literally pushing Eddie away but wrapping it up with a neat little bow. Get the hell out of the car but also then you wouldn’t be stuck in this god-awful traffic. I'm helping you more than I'm helping me.

He’d probably give Eddie his coat, a couple of quarters to call anyone should he need to, and a snack before literally kicking him out.

Of course, that was all if it wasn’t such a hollow threat. Eddie had more than learned that in all their time together. Something he hadn’t expected to say but here he was spending a lot of his free time with The Steve Harrington. Perhaps the weirdest thing to come from this whole monsters and alternate dimensions thing was learning what made the guy tick.

“God and miss hanging out with you? I love being trapped in my van and snapped at because you can’t control the weather.”

“We don’t know that the weather did this,” Steve finally lit his cigarette and cracked the window. Eddie tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away. It was some kink Eddie didn’t know he’d had until Steve.

“Either directly or indirectly, it did. So who are you kissing at midnight?”

“Is that why you were asking about Tiffani?” Steve said, passing over the cigarette just like Eddie knew he would. It was why he didn’t light his own, he wanted to share with Steve.

“You think Robin and Chris invited her to their place for the party? Robin likes to make you squirm but that feels too much for even her.”

“Nah because then she’d had to admit she was flirting with her too,” Steve laughed, holding his hand out for the cigarette.

They were losing the last bits of daylight and Eddie started to feel a little anxious. They’d been there for far too long and they had a limited break in the weather. The longer they sat here the worse it was going to be when they finally got moving. Hanging out with Steve was starting to rub off on Eddie. He was thinking practically. It was awful.

A few brake lights ahead of them lit up and gave Eddie a bit of hope. He shook his head and said “Gross” to what Steve had said.

“So who are you kissing at midnight then? You’re not going to be doing any better than I am,” Steve poked. Eddie deserved this for getting him worked up but he didn’t enjoy it.

“I dunno, maybe our odds are about the same,” he said, feeling just a little brave as he refused to make eye contact. Even as he felt the cigarette offered again.

All of this was ramping up to something but Steve wasn’t following the script. He was on edge and quicker to fight than normal. Something Eddie usually loved and even now was enjoying a bit but that’s because it was better than thinking too hard about asking the man to be his New Year’s kiss.

To confess he’d been harboring a crush so big it was impacting everyone around them seemed the perfect road trip confession. Eddie was even blessed with traffic. Which did little more than give him more time not to pull the trigger. It shouldn't be this hard, yet Eddie stayed silent.

He sucked in a breath and tried to stop thinking about it. The more he tried to set up the perfect conversation, the harder it seemed to be.

And as mentally planned, the van filled with whoops and cheers, only they weren't for Eddie’s confession. It was joy punctuated by Steve slamming the gear shift into drive. “We’re moving!” He said, shaking the wheel. With one last drag from the cigarette, he passed it off to Eddie. “Come on, I don’t think we’ll even be late.”

“Great,” Eddie sighed and watched the moment slowly creep by like the discarded McDonalds bag he’d been staring at for the past hour. He’d missed his chance and there was no way the universe was going to hand him another. Not like that.

[theotherrookie]

"I think you will. If the others are as nice as you guys are, you'll figure it out." Erica said, tearing the bread apart and giving half to Travis, "You're big, you need the energy."

"Don't worry about it, she's just being obnoxious on purpose like the four of them do all the time." Lucien reassured Russell. He could live without bread, even though it'd be miserable.

In any case, his attention quickly shifted to Antonio and his reaction to the soup. Lucien couldn't help a smug look at that. He was so damn proud of his cooking. "I'm glad to hear you like the soup. Would you like to know what's the secret ingredient that makes it so special?"

"Don't get too full of yourself, fairy boy. You still have a way to go." Veronica patted Lucien's head in the most condescending way. The fae didn't look pleased, but he only gave her a look worthy of the grumpiest cat.

"It's not you, I'm cold on the inside." Rook explained, "I think that stuff drained my magic."

At least she would be able to recharge. That orb was special. Its occupant was a rare catch; an immortal whom everybody could easily do without. While he was utterly unpleasant, he could provide her with what she needed for a virtually infinite amount of times, while also being an excellent antistress device.

"Sometimes I use him to play catch with Thea." Rook said, "He's the one who destroyed Erica's world, he deserves way worse than this."

Watching him tumble and slam against the orb was very entertaining at least.

"This will help you warm up, dear." Veronica said, handing over the bowl.

"I really hope so." Rook replied, "Also, I've got to apologize now. Black is badass, but not a healthy color for me, I'm going to be even more adorable and lose a lot of feathers."

"You understand that you're outnumbered. Good."

"Listen to mom, we've got to take care." Rook said, snuggling up to Bill again, "I hate being cold."

"That isn't really going to help you, dear." the ghost lady replied, reaching into her bag again for an orb, "This one may. I figured Erica might appreciate it as well."

"Oh, nice." Rook didn't need to wait for the fog to clear to know who this was. She took the orb in her hands and huddled back under the blanket.

"I hope you and your brothers all get to hang out again." Erica replied, before smiling, "Fairy soup is always good! And I've got something special to go with it."

"It's a passion that I can't wait to share again." Lucien watched as the elf gingerly pulled a loaf of bread out of her hat. "Sharing is caring, isn't it?"

"Bread is for kitties." Erica replied, grabbing her bowl.

"Well, I hope you all enjoy the result of our work." he grumbled as he prepared the bowl so Veronica could take it.

"It's fine. I'm too tired to feel self conscious anyways." Rook replied, staring the orb down, "I'm just going to go ahead and do my thing."

The orb began glowing at that. Rook kept quiet while her marks recharged, then sighed when the guest she was borrowing from decided to speak up.

"Oh, you look terrible today. Almost…dead!" the necromancer grinned.

Erica's ears flattened upon hearing that voice and she growled softly.

"Bill, do you mind shaking this guy until he shuts up?

[kandadze]

FoF rewatch ep 5-6: Zhuo Yichen and Zhuo Yixuan (gifs and loose thoughts)

It might be because I'm an only child, that I tend to gravitate towards sibling - whether by blood or found - relationships. One of my favorite books growing up was Astrid Lindgren's "The Brothers Lionheart." I'm more likely to watch a show if it has an ensemble cast of characters who are in all sorts of familial and otherwise close situationships (hello, FoF). (Must also be why I finished watching My Journey To You the first time - due to my morbid fascination with the absolutely dysfunctional, codependent, borderline incestuous and in general fucked up dynamic between the eldest and the youngest of the Gong "brothers"... not sure what that says about me lol)

Back to the Zhuo brothers.

I loved Zhuo Yixuan the moment he appeared in ep 5 (and not only because I have a soft spot for his actor). I do realize that we get an idealized version of him, seeing him only through the eyes of someone who loved him and then lost him too early, and I still think he was a remarkable guy.

I believe that he can be considered one of the biggest influences on who ZYC is as a person. (The other one would be WX, but that's a whole separate post.) As far as the Zhuo family goes, we know there was a father, but even though he is mentioned, it's never by name, and he never features in any of ZYC's memories, either - which makes me assume that he was a father just by title, and not very close with either of the brothers.

As for their mother, we were told that she died when ZYC was little, so I imagine ZYX himself was a teenager at most at the time. Now imagine this young boy, having just lost his mother, and with barely any support from his father, not only raising himself, but also becoming a whole-ass family unit (mother, father and brother) to his Xiao-Chen. And, even allowing that ZYC's memories only show us the best moments with his big brother, seeing what we can of ZYC's character, I think ZYX did a spectacular job.

He's most likely the reason why ZYC, even socially awkward and shy, draws people in - whether demon, half-god, or human child that's a little bit of both. As long as someone doesn't pose an active threat, he just does his best to do what his big brother used to do for him - asks questions, listens patiently, responds from his personal experience and to the best of his ability. ZYX didn't ridicule him for having nightmares or being scared to dream; he reassured him and then looked for ways to help. ZYX didn't force him into making connections with other children when it was clear it was too painful; he did his best to be there when it mattered and let nature take its course.

There's that scene in later eps where ZYX does his sword training while ZYC entertains himself in the vicinity. It's obvious the brothers enjoyed each other's company, but also had their own pastimes and commitments (the nightmare in ep 6 starts with ZYC doing his own training while ZYX is away). There's the scene with ZYC trying on that delicate golden headband, and ZYX teaching him what it meant to wear one (made me think of a book I read years ago, which featured an apparently Anglo-Saxon tradition of boys up to a certain age wearing a headband woven with 7 strips of white cloth for pretty much the same reasons as ZYX explained to ZYC). He clearly taught his baby brother some sound principles.

I'm also assuming that ZYX was quite lonely himself. In ZYC's memories he's of age to marry and have a child, but there's no other family around that we can see, or that would get mentioned. ZYC must've intuited that, asking ZYX if he's the same as him - as in, misunderstood, and lonely, and his big brother just smiles and doesn't answer, clearly not wanting to burden him.

He instead shares what I think was what he got from being born into Bingyi line - a gift of foresight. I might be reaching, but in my mind ZYX foretold many events in ZYC's life - meeting ZYZ (the "anomaly," that ZYC will recognize not with his eyes, but his heart! The Truth Eye parallels are everywhere...), meeting like-minded companions, waking up the Cloud Light Sword... He seems to have hoped for all the best for his baby brother, not for himself. Which again, makes me emotional at just how good of a man he was, and how he helped ZYC to become someone who's not afraid to be open and soft, who's able to change his mind as new information presents itself, who's emotionally intelligent and does his best to see the world clearly.

We'll never know what would have become of the brothers had ZYX survived, but I believe that if he could see his Xiao-Chen now, he'd be very very proud.

[slxtarchive]

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 … you found babysitting your neighbor sam’s daughter much more enjoyable than you anticipated …

✦ … from mr. golbach

hi yn, it’s sam. by any chance could you come over and babysit libby for a little bit? possibly until midnight, a work meeting came up. i’d really appreciate it. let me know.

you looked at the message, quickly replying back with a ‘for sure’ before packing a small bag. you and sam had been neighbors for almost a year now and you had occasionally helped him out by watching his daughter if he ever needed help.

you walked over toward his house internally looking forward to seeing his daughter again. she was super cute just like how any two year old was. you had also thought about seeing sam too. you didn’t really realize it but you had grown really fond of sam.

the way he carried himself always trying to be the best for his daughter. the way he was so polite and respectful towards you. you sighed just thinking about seeing him right now.

you shook away your thoughts as you finally found yourself in front of his door. you put your hair behind your ear moving it out of the way as you knocked on the door.

like lightning speed you saw sam open the door and give you a polite smile. “hey, thank you for coming on short notice.” he moved to the side to let you walk in.

your heart was beating out of your chest. “yeah its no problem. i dont usually work saturdays.” you smiled walking inside his house taking a look around before turning toward sam.

he closed the door behind and escorted you to the living room. “okay so libby is taking a nap right now in her room but she should wake within the next hour or so.” he looked over at the fridge. “take whatever you need of course. my house is your home.” he licked his bottom lip before scanning you up and down so quickly you doubted if he actually did it.

you gulped before nodding. “thank you.”

he nodded before grabbing his keys and heading toward the door. “you can always give me a call if anything, alright?”

you set your bag down and nodded watching him walk out of the house, close the door, and lock it.

you sighed thinking about your interaction. yn don’t even think about it, he’s a father! you told yourself.

you couldn’t help the way your legs felt like jello around him. his mature attitude and pretty face. his sculpted body… the way he moved, displaying his muscles and toned lines. the nurturing way he took care of his daughter but then the way he would just call you up so that he could take time for himself at the gym.

you don’t know what the case was but that it intrigued you.

you pulled yourself out of your thoughts going to check on libby. she was still asleep so you decided to just sit beside her until she woke.

it was pretty tame the rest of the night. no trouble at all with libby. she woke up and you just played with her the whole time. you always found it easy to entertain her and yourself.

it was about to hit 12 am when you had finally set libby down to sleep and got slightly startled when you heard the front door open. you then relaxed knowing it was sam so you started tidying up libby’s toys placing them back in her toy box when you felt his presence behind you. “is she asleep?”

you turned around and nodded putting the last of her toys in the box before getting up and switching on the baby monitor. you then tiptoed out of the room and closed the door slightly.

you finally turned to see an exhausted sam with a lazy smile. “thank you so much yn. i don’t know what id do without you.” he ran hands through his hair and walked toward the stairs than toward the kitchen.

you waved him off following behind him. “it’s honesty no problem. she’s an angel.”

he nodded in agreement before glancing at the clock. “i’m back earlier than i thought. wanna stick around for a drink maybe?” his voice wavered but you ignored it. “i could open a bottle of wine if you’d like? seems only fair, you’ve been here all evening.”

you hesitated before nodding. “yeah sure, that would be lovely thank you.”

he smiled internally grateful you took him up on his opportunity. he poured two glasses of wine before passing one toward you. you grabbed it thanking him before following to where he was headed.

he strolled to the living room switching on the baby monitor before sitting on the couch and patting the spot beside him.

you sat a good distance away from him feeling a bit nervous. you and sam had never actually taken the time to talk or speak to him in a setting where it was just you two with no rush or no where to be but like lightning speed, the conversation had a flow instantly.

sam started talking about the challenges of being a single parent and how it’s difficult not having a motherly figure there in libby’s life. you listened intently making sure to make him feel like what he was saying was important because it was.

then, he asked you about your life. about what you like to do, what you’re doing right now, and your future plans. you told him pretty much everything. letting yourself spill every detail because for some reason you felt so safe with sam. you didn’t know why but all you knew was that you felt you could tell him anything and he would understand and make you feel heard.

at one point, sam looked at the clock and it had been almost 2 hours of you talking and getting to know each other. “oh shit.. it’s really late.”

you widened your eyes. “oh my gosh — im so sorry. i didn’t realize.” you said quietly wondering how has it been that long when it felt so short.

he shook his head laughing. “it’s okay i… i haven’t talked to someone like — truly had a real conversation in a while. it’s … really nice.” he made direct eye contact with you with a little glimmer in his eyes. his eyes were so beautiful. you felt entranced.

you returned the smile. “i’m really glad because i feel the same way.” you tried not to make your tone sound so… in love but you hardly succeeded.

it didn’t help that sam had spoken up again bringing you butterflies. “you know yn, i don’t think i’ve ever told you this but you’ve been such a huge help — more than i think you’re aware of.”

you didnt know if it was because you were slightly tipsy but you swore his drunken eyes looked at your lips for a few seconds. you tried to shake it off speaking faster than your mind could register. “well, i’m so happy to help, really. i.. i love being with libby and — well, you.”

as soon as you said that you felt stupid. why did you even say that, yn! oh gosh…

the room felt still and so quiet. the feel of the room was no longer as it was. it changed. you thought it changed for the worse until sam reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear like you had always had to do. “i like being here with you too.” his voice came out as a whisper. so soft and sultry you were practically drunk on him.

your voice hitched when you saw him move closer. the tension thick and undeniable now. your heart began to race rapidly while the space in between you both was disappearing by the second.

as you both were centimeters away from connecting your lips he spoke up. “i should thank you properly.” he whispered, his left hand on the coach and his right hand making its way toward the side of your face and neck itching to pull you closer. “if you’ll allow me of course.”

it was like he was waiting for some confirmation and you quickly obliged. “be my guest.” the words came out breathlessly.

that was all he needed before he leaned forward closing the distance between you both claiming your lips. it was soft and gentle at first but the longer it went on the more harsh and passionate it became. he was leaning forward practically pushing you down on the couch craving that dominance.

his hands roamed all over your body wanting to memorize everything about you. you couldn’t believe what was happening. it was like you were living a fever dream.

as fast as he kissed you, his lips left yours and started trailing toward your cheeks and down your neck. his breathing was heavy as he kept going lifting up your shirt and kissing your stomach.

you grabbed his hair loving the feeling of his warm lips in your skin. he grinned at the rough touch. “keep doin’ that.” he groaned, moving further and further. “can i make you feel good? for being so helpful?”

the way he looked up at you with those fuck me eyes had you practically wanting to beg but all you did was nod. “yes… yes.”

he licked his lips tugging on the sweats you wore. “m’gonna take of your clothes, m’kay?” you gulped, nodding nervously still mind blown that this was actually happening.

he pulled your sweats off slowly discarding them and tossing the em to the floor before moving to your underwear. he pressed to fingers directly on your center catching you off guard. you jumped with a moan as he kept that pressure there. “so wet.” he whispered through the dark — the only thing lighting up the area was the lamp on the end table behind you giving you a angelic view of sam’s face.

he wasted no time pulling the cotton covering hour center to the side and giving you a small kitten lick. your legs instinctively closed around his head feeling that small bit of pleasure. sam loved how you reacted to his touch because it gave him an opportunity to move his hands so that he had to forcefully spread your legs open.

he kept his hands there until he realized he’d have to fully remove your underwear. he tutted, “now i gotta take this off.. gotta be a good girl for me so i can be the best for you. can you do that?” the tone in his voice making you want to arch your back.

you tugged your underwear down before sam replaced your hands and pulled it down for you. he disregarded them and threw them where he tossed your sweats. finally he was able to nudge your thighs apart your pretty pussy. “can’t wait to taste you.” he muttered getting closer and closer.

you felt his breath as he spoke against your pussy. he then blew air from his mouth on your clit watching how you clenched and bucked your hips up. a little whine escape your perfect lips causing his dick to twitch. “wanted this for so long.” he whispered to himself. you barely registered what he said before he wrapped his lips around your clit using his tongue to gently nudge it in circles.

the grip you had on his hair grew tighter as the pleasure made your thighs slightly shake. he was really good at this.

he kept this up for a good minute bringing you closer and closer to that edge when you saw his hand move from your thigh to your center. he swirled his middle finger in your arousal before smearing it all over your clit and licking it off.

you moaned at the sight scooting yourself further toward him wanting more of his touch. he smiled at how needy you’ve become giving you exactly what you wanted but a bit more.

he inserted his finger inside you slowly pumping it in and out while also keeping up his tongue on your clit. you pushed his hair back wanting to see him as he pleasure you. you bit your lip as he pushed another finger into you. “y-yes… fuck.” you whimpered, feeling your abdomen tighten. he was doing so good your eyes began to water.

you had become so overwhelmed to the point where you found yourself grinding against his tongue. his hand clenched around your thigh as he picked up the pace of his fingers. “how bad do you need to cum, baby? God, you taste so good.”

your eyes were furrowing and you fought the urge to close your eyes. “need it so bad…” you pressed your lips, feeling his tongue on your clit become so overstimulating. that rubber band in your stomach desperately wanting to snap. “please please please.” you moaned repeatedly.

he sucked your clit into his mouth harshly not slowing his fingers down at all, that alone sending you over the edge. “holy shit!” you threw your head back as your orgasm completely crashed into you catching you off guard.

although sam knew you had finally reached your orgasm, he refused to stop his antics. he hadn’t had enough of you. he was drunk on you. “can’t stop, jus’ taste so fuckin’ good.” he moved his mouth all over, loving how he had writhing beneath him.

you felt the overstimulation get to you causing those tears to spill. “fuck — too much sam! oh shit …” you tried to push his head away but he gripped your legs open.

the pornographic noises eliciting another orgasm from you. “hurts so fucking good.” you groaned, feeling yourself reaching your next peak.

“c’mon, gimme another one, baby. cum on my tongue.” he groaned against your lower lips.

you shook your head squeezing your eyes shut as his words drove you to that edge. your legs shook and tried closing around his head as you came. you felt hot and dizzy as that wave of ecstasy washed over you. your back arched as you tried pushing away from him.

he had a shit-eating grin on his face as he spoke. “goood girl.” he talked you through. “that’s it… that’s it.” he slowed down his actions wanting to smooth the process of you calming down from the orgasm.

after a few seconds, he smiled up at you crawling back up your body. “tell me you’ll let me do that again…” he begged. you raised your brows in surprise. “after i take you to dinner?” he proposed.

you tried to hide your smile failing miserably. “are you saying you’d like to see me outside of babysitting?”

he laughed kissing your neck lightly before pulling away. “been wanting to since i saw ya.”

“that makes me happy to hear.” you grinned.

© slxtarchive

[gutziez]

so. this is something I've wanted to say for months

im not really who i am for fucks sake half the time I don't know who I am its become way too blurred and I'm gonna share my past here and everything I've done so I have many points but one has been clawing at my from the inside like its trying to rip my throat to pieces from the inside of my esophagus Cassie and Ruby aren't dead they were never even real Cassie and Ruby are a projection of who I wish I knew who I wish I had for a friend but I got bored of them and killed them off in my mind and socially I'm very sorry faye but Cassie wasn't real she was a character she was someone I wanted to relate to I have no one but the people online even then I left Ares and Tame because I thought they'd judge me over fucking fictional characters and I was bored I wanted something to happen so I killed them I faked Ruby overdosing I faked Cassie stabbing herself its fake they aren't real they cant be dead because they never existed I'm sorry Faye I didn't want to make YOU hurt but you were just so close to me and its a sick form of entertainment at this point. Im too into the idea of human emotion and action and I hurt you with it. now for the other piece of this I'm sorry to literally everyone I've come into contact with I'm a lot of drama because I seek drama I just want some fucking emotion in my life and I create lies and more lies but those lies start to feel true I don't even know which parts of my life are real did he actually rape me did I actually get groomed for sex trafficking did he actually tell me I'd never be his son I don't know what's going on I'm losing memory and sense of self I cant do this shit ive gone through blog and blog and blog delete the old account and go to a new one I've gone by so many names Ace Star Azalea Ollie Oliver Aspen I don't even know if I can count them all I'm thinking about changing it again for fucks sake but I cant because he'll judge me and refuse to call me by my chosen name because of how fluid I feel about myself is I don't even know if Nyx or Evelyn exist anymore I cant and no please just please don't forgive me call me a piece of shit degrade me for what I've done for all of the people I've hurt by clicking the fucking delete button by lying by being a piece of living trash please Faye just call me the worse thing you can think of and move on from me I don't see a point in my life anymore and if you forgive me I'll end up hurting you more just let yourself leave. I would say I love you but I'm a fucking monster I'm horrible why would I fake someones existence and then make them die just to feel something I'm not okay not to mention the amount of other people I've put through stuff just for the sake of attention and drama

im a stupid fucking attention whore

im sorry Aster too I think I ended up faking my death or I just left silently I think I went by Ace or Ollie I don't remember it was like a year ago maybe less I'm sorry for that I wish you the best don't forgive me please I shouldn't be forgiven

i love everyone but I'm also a piece of shit Ill leave my account up for a little while so everyone can get their "kill yourself"s out I will be listening to the messages tell me to relapse and die

@f4y3w00d5 @amethyst-aster @lils-ki @tameable50

i don't remember the others ive hurt the most but you could at least show others so they can point and laugh

[r-1-der]

warnings: threesome, oral (reader recieving), fingering (reader recieving), age gap, short but might add on more later, also written within 10 minutes or so, not proof-read

they finally got her.

valeria had been hunted for as long as she could remember. were it not her parents, her peers, her old boyfriends, men, or now the authorities. it was someone, which was all she bothered to think of.

when some pretty girl entered one of her bars, she thought little of it. a foreigner, sure. but what else?

first she came alone, then with company. valeria wasnt there of course, she was busy, and not idiotic. she knew a stickup when she saw one. though her men funneled every bit of information straight into her ear.

she was a young thing, with an older woman, visibly older. she had no business touching up on her like thst, but she was. both of them.

they were both their own versions of entertaining. valeria went down to see them for herself. the older woman commanding and, upon later notice from valeria, so deeply demeaning.

the girl, willing into her bones. did she have any shame? valeria pressed her boobs into the girls chest, her lips suffocating the girls. a set of hands pried their way between them.

"lick her, she loves it," laswell said, ordering lightly. but valeria was in a favourable mood and did so. laswell stayed behind the young woman, groping and squeezing, whispering whatever filthy thing came to mind into her ear, as valeria got down to make her own mouth useful.

"everything you want, and you still whine and complain?" was muttered against the girls neck, a tongue bullying its way between the girls lips to have her quivering between them both.

you moaned, torn between focusing on laswells words and valerias mouth. you only vaguely knew who valeria was, at least that she was dangerous and had a 'shoot-on-sight' order, something you couldnt believe as she delved into your cunt making your mouth hang open wihout means, and your back arch into the feeling.

laswell wasnt much sweeter, god her mouth was filthy and her hands mean. they pinched at your tits as her voice mocked your every reaction, urged valeria on too.

valeria licked and sucked any sense you had through your pussy, and with you barely hanging on to any of them laswell bullied her fingers into you.

"sh sh shhh, baby... be good for us," kate muttered into your heated neck, her lips brushing the soft skin along with her words.

they wrung an orgasm through you, shortly thereafter leaning over your shoulder for valeria to push your cum into kates mouth, moaning into each others pressing tongues.

rotting in a cell or not, valeria kept thinking about the girl and the older woman, despite them being her downfall. they all fell asleep in a heap, naked and sweaty nestled between each other. valeria barely had time to dress herself upon hearing some commotion ring out through her mansion.

of course the girl came to see her. unsure and nervous in her ways. she couldnt help a sly smile, she already had her wrapped around her finger.

"miss me already?"

"...i just came to see."

"you havent seen enough? i could tell you were greedy."

"..."

"youre uncharacteristically quiet, mija..."

not many more words were exchanged that night. but more were upon valerias predicted escape, and another stakeout in one of her bars, another useless arrest...

wherever valeria was, kate and her girl wasnt far behind.

[stellamancer]

notes: hello and welcome to an episode of wips I'll never finish!! mentioned this a little earlier tonight and well here we are.

contains: gojo + reader, non-explicit sexual themes (discussion of sex and an all but implied extremely sexually active reader), the usual banter, gojo is a loser.

You stare down at the curse writhing beneath you and dig your heel into its flesh. It's a little unnecessary at this point but you don't care. The curse squeals, as if begging for mercy, but you ignore it and exorcise it completely. Dark purple blood splatters all over the place and you grimace as it gets on you. Gross.

"Bad lay last night?" Gojo asks. You look up at him as you wipe your hands and you can see one of his eyebrows lift behind the material of his blindfold.

You give him a wry smile. "That obvious?"

"No, but you were maybe just a little more aggressive than usual," he says and you hum. Didn't think he'd notice. "Thought I might be next on the list."

That makes you snort. "I couldn't exorcise you if I tried."

"Aw, I knew you loved me."

You roll your eyes. That's not what you said but Gojo's selective hearing is nothing new. Mission complete, you start to leave the room and Gojo follows.

"Soooo," he says conversationally. "What was the problem this time? No stamina? Blow his load early? So small you couldn't tell it was there?"

"No..." you answer. "He was actually pretty big just..."

"Ahh, I see," Gojo interjects and you see him nod his head sagely. "One of those that thinks size makes up for lack of technique."

"Unfortunately."

It's probably weird for you talk about your sex life to one of your coworkers with this amount of ease and, honestly, you can't imagine having this conversation with any of them (save for Shoko who is more friend than coworker) but Gojo is, and always has been, a weirdo. He's well aware of your... activities off the clock, and while he's way more curious about the finer details than most, he doesn't seem to judge you for it.

Unlike Shoko. But she can't say much when she's been unable to fully swear off smoking.

"Didn't save his number then?"

"Absolutely not," you snap and Gojo just laughs. Most of your encounters are just one night stands, but there are a rare few whose numbers you've saved, though you're reluctant to contact any of them more than a few times. The last thing you want is for any legitimate attraction to grow between you. It's better that way— for everyone involved.

"So, when are you going to give me a shot, huh?" Gojo asks and you stop walking, taken aback by his sudden proposition. "I'd be the best you've ever had, promise."

"No thanks." You answer automatically. Honestly, you've never thought about it; doesn't seem like a good idea to sleep with your coworkers.

"Ouch. Shot down just like that?" Gojo's tone is light, playful. You doubt he expected you to say yes in the first place. "You're pretty heartless, you know that?"

"Sometimes you have to be, especially in this profession."

This earns you another laugh from Gojo, "It's okay, I get it: you're just not ready for me to blow your mind yet."

"You're delusional," you say flatly.

He ignores you and continues. "Not that I can blame you. Once you have me, there's no way anyone else will ever compare."

You roll your eyes. Cocky for someone who obviously doesn't entertain the thought of being with anyone else sexually, or even romantically for that matter. Gojo talks a big game, but you wouldn't be surprised if he was actually unconfident in the bedroom. Actually, you think you'd like to see that.

Not that you'd say that to his face.

"Gojo."

"Yessss?" His tone makes you wonder if he thinks you've reconsidered.

Too bad for him.

"You're delusional," you repeat, smiling just a little.

[blackchrysalys]

Mabel, someday out of random, having the realization that Dipper somehow managed to get multiple girls' phone number is so funny to me.

Like Dipper Pines, her twin brother whose so socially awkward that its painful to watch, managed to score an impossibly low score on her datability test she didn't even think was possible and couldn't even talk to his crush without a multi-step plan, 'flirted' with multiple people on a single road trip and somewhat got them to like him back successfully, something Mabel's been trying ever since she stepped in gravity falls.

That's gotta be traumatic to ponder over.

[star--nymph]

Vivienne's fear being 'becoming irrelevant' isn't something that's linked explicitly to her pride, no matter what Solas says about her (and the irony of Mr.Pride himself saying that should not be lost on you), it reveals what and who Vivienne truly is.

She's a survivalist.

Because we don't spend as much time in the Free Marches or Orlesian circles, we don't get to experience what being a mage is in these cultures. In Ferelden and Kirkwall, a mage is a lesser being without freedom no matter what they do--but in the Free Marches and Orlais specifically, mages are commodities that are given freedom so long as they play an entertaining enough role. They can explore the world if they have a noble patron, if they catch the right person's eye. They are, in a way, two sides of the same coin--refusing mages agency and forcing them to relay on higher powers. Vivienne lucked out, as sad as it is, when Bastion fell in love with her; she found someone who was contrarian enough to recognize her as a full person and also someone with power that could help her rise through the ranks. This is not to say that Vivienne on her own wasn't an exceedingly talented and intelligent individual--by nineteen she was already the youngest full fledged mage in Circle history and she was skilled enough to make herself an enchanter. But, I can not emphasize this enough, none of that matters if she didn't also play the Game and impress enough people.

Vivienne could have been the most brilliant mage in the history of Thedas and it means nothing if she was overlooked by nobility.

So when Bastion made her his mistress, she gained not just a lover but also a means to an end. Now she can use her magic to protect herself. Now she can roam where she wants and not be question for it because she's Madame Vivienne. Now, she can walk into the Orlasian court and belong there.

And what happens? Celene notices her and makes her the Court Enchanter, a position that has always been the equivalent of a jester. Vivienne took that title, ignored that it was essentially a glorified insult to who she is, and made it a position of power. She made the Court Enchanter into an advisor, a political rank. She had done the impossible and made mages an actual political entity in the Orlasian Court, something that wasn't seen outside of Tervinter (not counting what players can do under very specific conditions if they made mages in DAO and DA2).

All that, however, only continues as long as the court recognizes her as something worth their attention. Vivienne needs to maintain her act as Madame De Fer, The Lady of Iron, the Court Enchanter, The Jewel of the High Court, because the second she just becomes Vivienne, it's over for her. The assassins coming raining in, her name gets devoured by rumors and gossip, and she'll be found dead at bottom of the stair case with a dagger in her back if she's lucky.

So of course when the Circles fall apart during the Rebellion, she clings to that Loyalist Mages to maintain that structure--of course she moves her pieces to the Inquisition, knowing that if the Circle DOES fall, she at least as another place for herself and mages latch onto--of course when she hears that Celene replaced her with a new Court Enchanter that appeared out of no where, she grows to resent Morrigan.

Like, Morrigan literally pops up out of thin air, makes herself invaluable to Celene, and then plants herself in the place Vivienne had to claw her way up to and create so she could survive. Would you not be resentful when your life's work is usurped by some random witch of the wilds because she happened to charm the Empress? Everything Vivienne strived for all whisked away because the court find a gem who glimmers ever so slightly more than Vivienne.

So yes, Vivienne fears becoming irrelevant because the world has made it so that irrelevance for an Orlesian mage means death.

[dreamersdwell]

More personality swap bc I thinks it's funny and I'm learning how to draw sm

[polliwoggers]

so. i got a comment on my magolor post and i uh. blacked out and this was on my screen. Props to merfirevulpixia for the character comparison of all time