#ive never been so heated by something lmao

[cinnabeat]

i wanna go back to the khux era actually that made me feel insane in the best way i wanna feel that again

[themyscirah]

Okay so basically the United States MINT of all people is going to be working with DC to make a line of coins! These coins sadly won't be in circulation (the things I would do to live in a world where I could get Batman coins from the supermarket) as they're collectors coins, but will be releasing over the course of the next 3 years, 2025-2027.

Designs haven't been released yet (the same is true for all 2025 designs) but we know there will be 9 coins in total (3 each year) with the first year featuring (of course!!!) Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.

Although we know the first three heroes to be featured, the remaining six have yet to be decided, and it turns out the Mint is putting out a survey on their site to gauge which of a group of culturally significant heroes people want to see most! (link to the form is mentioned in the article above)

The considered group includes: Supergirl, the Flash, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Captain Marvel, John Stewart GL, Aquaman, Hawkman, Jamie Reyes BB, Robin (Damian?), Cyborg, and Batgirl, of which 6 will be selected.

As someone who does a bit of coin collecting myself (mainly circulation coins like the quarters sets, but I also have a couple proof and collectors coins) I think this is a really cool and interesting idea that showcases the history of the comics medium and these characters and their influence on American culture. Really excited to wait and see what the designs look like for the coins already announced!

[yeowangies]

mutual understanding

Chapter I | Chapter II: Time for a little truth | III | IV | V

PAIRING: Kenpachi/AFAB!Reader CONTENTS: AU - Fantasy, Medieval, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Pining, Explicit Sexual Content in later chapters. WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Mentions of mild blood and minor violence. WORDCOUNT: 3404

Summary:

Despite your first hand experience, it was getting difficult to admit to yourself that Kenpachi wasn’t actually as bad as he initially seemed. He was violent and obsessed with fighting, that was obvious and even more so when you started living there, but he had never treated you roughly. Not even a single word out of place towards you, less alone one threatening action. 

Notes:

I struggle writing this chapter a bit, confrontations are hard lmao but they are always necessary and i'm glad we can move on to sexier parts now!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

header by me, divider by @/saradika

taglist: @actuallysaiyan @lol-ktr @vrgelivvvv

The night was beautiful. It had been raining days prior, and you couldn’t wait to go for a walk in the garden that night. It was the only alone time you had, with no maids trailing behind your every move, not when they didn’t notice you sneaking off.

You rarely went past the trees signaling the limit of the palace. The forest was on the other side, and people rarely went too deep into it, knowing what kind of magical creatures existed was enough to ward anyone off. 

You only wanted to explore a little, not enter the woods completely, but as soon as you took two steps into it, something felt off. 

The first thing you heard was a distant howl, before a gust of air threw you down onto the ground. Your vision got blurry, heat covering your body as claws tightly held onto your arm, digging into your flesh. You couldn’t even scream, completely confused as to what was even happening, and who or what was even attacking you. Blood trickled down your arm, and that was when you could finally let out a shaky cry. 

Whatever was holding you suddenly dropped you, and you fell with your back against the dirt, breathing heavily as the world stopped spinning rapidly enough so you could open your eyes and focus. 

You gasped loudly at the sight above you; an enormous man with an eyepatch and a scar across his face standing in front of you, holding a sword. Half his face covered in blood, making your body shiver in fear.

You barely crawled away before feeling too weak to keep moving, heart beating fast inside your ribcage, and you kept your eyes on the man in front of you, holding onto what was left of your consciousness as you heard far away voices resonating around you.

“Captain Zaraki just saved a girl!”

“Was that a werewolf?!”

“That’s the princess!”

“We need to get her back to the castle!”

You woke up, feeling hot and sweaty under the blankets, gasping for air at the flashback you had for a dream. 

That was the day Kenpachi saved you, the day you met him for the first time. It was embarrassing to even remember, as you had been more afraid of him than you had been of the actual creature that had harmed you. Albeit you hadn’t actually seen the werewolf. You only found that Kenpachi had sliced him in two once you woke up a few days later and one of the maids informed you about it.

You still didn’t know what to think of that experience, only that it made your blood run cold at times.

It has been a couple of weeks since you had moved to the castle, and the days passed by easily. You didn’t feel as tense as the first few days, when you were still testing the waters of the place.

Yachiru was actually a good company, despite her short age. She was vivacious and gave you strength and hope with her every move. You even met Ikkaku and Yumichika one night while you took a walk through the gardens, and even though they weren’t as strong as Kenpachi (not that you cared, but they let you know the fact nonetheless), they were much easier to talk to than your husband was. 

Once Kenpachi had given you permission to reorganize the garden (his exact words were ‘do whatever you want’), you focused solely on that, and as the early weeks of fall began, the weeds and overgrown grass had been removed completely. You knew it was a bad time to start planting seeds; if the cold in the first few days didn’t kill the plants, the snow might do that job once winter arrived. But you couldn’t wait; it was the only thing that kept you occupied. 

As soon as you became more familiar with the castle, you realized there wasn’t a library or a banquet hall. Why would there be any of those rooms if Kenpachi did not seem like the type to enjoy those things? Nevertheless, you wanted to fix that, but in order to do that, you had to ask your husband about it, and you felt like you might be overstepping with such an expensive and ambitious project. The garden will have to be done for now, and once that part was done, you could move on to something bigger.

Yachiru was helping you a lot in her own way, spreading the seeds across the soil of the garden (and though you specifically told her not to mix them you knew she was doing it), and once you were done for the day, you headed back into the castle. 

“Are we gonna do that again tomorrow?” She asked cheerfully, running across the entrance. 

“Tomorrow we have another task for the garden, we have to water the soil, remember?” You said, looking at her with a smile. “We have to do that everyday, and hopefully flowers will bloom by spring!”

“We’ll have flowers by spring?” Yumichika asked, walking through the entrance along with Ikkaku. 

“I am planning for that, however it does depend on the weather, and how crude these colder months are.” You replied with a soft smile. “I have faith that they will bloom!”

“Flowers never really grew in that place,” Ikkaku commented, looking at the still brand new garden through the window. “It was always full of weed, nobody really cared for it.”

“My mission is to make this place nicer! Once the garden is done, I wish to create a ballroom!”

“You want a ballroom?” Kenpachi's deep voice resonated from behind you, making you jump. “Why?”

“Well… So people can come over…” You replied quietly, turning around to face him with unsure eyes. 

“Come over for what?” His frown got deeper and it only made you more nervous.

“For socializing! Dancing and eating, mostly.” You replied, confused and slightly irritated. “Is that not to your taste?”

“We never had dances!” Yachiru replied, loud and joyful. “I bet it’s super fun!”

It was your turn to frown when you heard him sigh like he was annoyed before he spoke. 

“I will never understand women.”

An uncomfortable feeling raised inside you, more rapidly than you expected when you noticed from the corner of your eye that Ikkaku was looking at the both of you with eyes wide open, and Yumichika had covered his face with his palm. 

Embarrassed and frustrated, you couldn’t contain it even if you tried. 

“And I do not understand you.” You spat, looking up at Kenpachi as if he wasn’t twice your size. “Are you going to deny this to me? It is your right to do so, but this would not even be an issue if we were not married. You could have vehemently said no to this union, even escape from it! So I might as well enquire why exactly did you accept it? I was the one who had no choice!”

You kept your eyes on his for a moment as he stared at you, wide eyed, as if you had sprouted another head.

Not interested in listening to whatever that could have been said, you ran out of the castle towards the garden.

*

Kenpachi stood there looking at you as you got smaller the further you ran, and was only brought back to the present time by Yachiru’s voice.

“Dumb Kenny.” Yachiru commented, way too loud for Kenpachi’s taste, but he only turned to look at her, confused and annoyed. She paid him no mind and only ran up down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“What in the hell…” He grunted, unsure of what to do. Under any circumstances, he would start a fight, but even he knew that was a terrible idea. 

“Captain,” Yumichika called for him, making Kenpachi turn to him. “With all due respect, you are an idiot.”

“What?” Kenpachi practically growled, but Yumichika went on despite the threatening tone. 

“This girl is alone here, with no friends, no one she can confide in, and you just made her feel more alienated than ever. She had no choice in coming here, and she cannot leave at her own free will either. I suggest you actually tell her the truth.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You have affection for her, don’t you?” Yumichika asked softly, not really expecting an answer. “Go talk to her and tell her the truth. She will say she doesn’t want to talk, but pay it no mind. She’ll want to know.”

“How do you even know that?” Ikkaku asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“I actually have the emotional range of a human being.” Yumichika rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up.” Kenpachi grumbled, pondering on the idea of actually telling you how he was feeling for a while before deciding it was the right thing to do. “Fine, whatever.”

Walking out the entrance and towards the garden, he tried to organize his thoughts. It wasn’t like he was a complete prick; he knew what could be insulting to say, he simply didn’t care for those things. But apparently you had been uncomfortable since the moment you’ve been declared husband and wife. 

Kenpachi hadn’t actually thought about anything regarding your life and feelings, simply because he hadn’t paid too much attention to details beyond what you had shown him. He had even let you have the bedroom all for yourself because he assumed you were terrified of him; the way you looked at him the first time you met spoke volumes. And even occasionally you seemed petrified whenever he was around, even after you’ve been in the castle for weeks. 

It had pissed him off to hear you talk about him behind his back the way you had, though it probably came from a place of fear rather than arrogance, no matter that you moved around like the princess you were. That lovely bit of confidence he saw in you when you still lived in the palace diminished terribly when you moved to his castle, or at least around him it did, and he wasn’t going to keep contributing to it. 

Out in the garden, Kenpachi spotted you underneath a tree, sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest. 

It was time for a little truth. 

“I do not wish to speak to you.” You said, voice shaky, as soon as you noticed he was nearby. 

Kenpachi didn’t get any closer, but he spoke, regardless of what you said. 

“Just shut up and listen.” He sentenced, making you turn your head slightly to the side, enough so he could see your glossy eyes. Trying to pay it no mind, he went on. “I know marrying me wasn’t your choice. I was greedy. I didn’t want to refuse that opportunity so I didn’t really put up a fight when your father told me to marry you, even when you made it clear that you think I’m a barbarian. I didn’t care.”

Your frown and sniffle distracted him momentarily, especially when your eyes kept avoiding his. You had turned to face him, but you weren’t actually looking at him at all. 

“I hate how you keep looking at me, like I’m going to kill you at any given chance.” Kenpachi admitted through gritted teeth. “I didn’t really think about how this marriage would affect you so if you wish to leave and go back to the palace, I’ll make it happen.”

He spared you one last glance at you before turning away, when it was clear you wouldn’t respond to his words. You seemed even smaller, and the way you briefly looked at him before he left made you look powerless. 

*

You stared at Kenpachi as he walked away, surprised and confused, trying to focus on one of the things that he said at a time. 

He was being greedy? About what, exactly? It wasn’t like was using the dowry money to expand his fief. He didn’t even want you to expand the castle at all. His greediness did not involve money, so why did he say that?

You didn’t think it was so noticeable how afraid of him you were, even if it was a fleeting feeling at times. You couldn’t help it; he was imposing and his constant aggressive expression made it impossible for you to see him differently. It had a lot to do with that night when you first met, when he saved you. He hasn’t been the one who hurt you, but your mind just couldn’t fully dissociate what actually happened with the bloodlust he had in his eyes when he looked at you. On top of it all, he heard you calling him a ‘barbarian’ when you were trying to talk your father out of this marriage. 

However, despite your first hand experience, it was getting difficult to admit to yourself that Kenpachi wasn’t actually as bad as he initially seemed. He was violent and obsessed with fighting, that was obvious and even more so when you started living there, but he had never treated you roughly. Not even a single word out of place towards you, less alone one threatening action. 

Not to mention the fact that he adopted a small girl he found in the woods, and the undying loyalty of his men revealed a lot about what kind of person he was. And he had even let you sleep by yourself every night since you got there, knowing your discomfort. 

Maybe it was time to make amends. 

Waiting for Kenpachi that night, you paced around in your nightgown, hoping he’d come to the room after dinner. He usually did even if he didn’t spend the night, so you were ready to talk to him once he got there. 

When the door opened, you looked at him, feeling slightly intimidated. He had the same hard expression he usually wears, but it was starting to feel natural to see him that way, so you immediately relaxed. 

“I do not wish to go back to the palace.” You started promptly once the door was closed. Kenpachi remained impassive, only keeping his eyes on you once he removed the eyepatch. You gulped before going on. “I’m very comfortable here. I have to confess, you’ve treated me more like a person than anyone else might have done before, and I’m very thankful for that. And I’m… sorry, too.”

It was hard to read him at all, he only stared at you without moving a single muscle on his face, but somehow that was helpful enough to keep you talking.

“You saved my life, and I judged you horribly, without even attempting to know you. I insulted you and hurt your pride, so I must ask for your forgiveness.” 

Looking down, you bowed at a ninety degree angle, staying still for a moment before returning to an upright position. You kept your eyes on the floor, waiting for him to say something, hopefully words of encouragement that would mean he accepted your apology, and that you could stay.

“You hurt my pride, huh?” Kenpachi’s gruff voice brought your eyes back up to meet his as he made his way towards you; it surprised you that he was smirking. “Is that what you think you did?”

“I think so… Weren’t my words insulting?”

“For reasons you’re not seeing.” He paused, eying you up and down quickly as his smirk faded. “I didn’t care that I was probably offending you when I accepted your hand. Your father threatened me with my past, saying he would hand me over to another kingdom for the nobles I’ve killed when I was a mercenary.”

Your eyes opened wide at his words. You knew your father was a politician and a strategist before even being a father, but you couldn’t believe your ears. It was startling, but not unrealistic, that he had basically sold you to a murderer. 

���But I couldn’t care less about that, he could have done it and I would have managed to get away anyway.” Kenpachi went on nonchalantly, looking to the side as if he hadn’t given any of the things he was saying a lot of thought. “The reason I ended up accepting your hand, the reason I was greedy, was you.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“Your father offered you to me on a silver plate in exchange for my loyalty, and I accepted, just because I wanted to have you.”

You stared at him, bewildered. 

Kenpachi wanted you? You had seen him for the first time that night you had been attacked in the woods, and you weren’t so vain as to think of yourself so charming that one look would suffice to capture a man’s heart, especially a man like Kenpachi, who seemed so ruthless and aggressive to even care about those kind of things. Even more so when you looked terrified at that moment.

If anything, you were sure that you couldn’t actually judge him based on his expressions if he was telling you he wanted you with such a stoic look. 

His eyes were on you for a while, obviously awaiting a reaction, but as moments passed by in silence, he turned to leave, at which point you decided to speak.

“Wait!” You called for him, and Kenpachi turned to look at you. “Please stay. We’re husband and wife, we should sleep in the same bed, yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” 

“I’m not-” Kenpachi snorted in disbelief, making you jolt in surprise. You slapped yourself mentally for the slip but went on. “I mean, I was, I won’t deny it! Nevertheless, you’ve been nothing but nice and considerate since I got here.”

His eyes stayed on you to the point where you started to feel self conscious, until he finally sighed and took long steps to approach you. 

Everything about Kenpachi was intimidating; it was inevitable due to his size and expression. But after everything he had told you that day, nothing inside you made you anxious about him. If anything, you could see features that you might consider attractive (not that you didn’t notice them before, but fear and trepidation always won those battles). There was a rugged charm about him. 

“You’re asking me to share a bed with you after everything I told you?” Kenpachi asked with a smirk. “Are you doing it on purpose?”

“You can do whatever you want with me, nothing I say could stop you,” You said, staring back at him, straining your neck in the process. “But you've been attentive enough to make me trust you.”

When his hand slid up your shoulder and into the hair in the back of your neck, it surprised you but not enough to make you react. You were curious about his intentions since he made it clear he desired you for a while. 

“You have a lot of confidence for a tiny woman,” Kenpachi’s grin only grew, making you smile in return. 

“It comes with the royalty title.” You shrugged. “It won’t change anytime soon.”

“I don’t want you to change.”

With a firm grip on your hair, Kenpachi leaned down and kissed you. You made a noise in surprise; he had practically pressed his face against yours, bumping your noses and roughly crashing your lips together. You held onto him, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, when he slid his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. 

You could barely keep your legs from collapsing as he tasted every corner and every inch of your cavity. His desperation for you was palpable, and it made you all the more dizzy. It was difficult to even keep up with him, you were reduced to trembling legs and occasional gasps that left your mouth as you ran out of air. 

If it wasn’t for the arm Kenpachi had slid around your waist, you would have fallen down once he pulled away. The lack of air had made you lightheaded, and your face felt impossibly hot. 

Were kisses supposed to feel that good?

“Another.” You demanded once you’ve caught your breath, gazing at him with pleading eyes as you ran your hands up his tunic to bring him down again. “I demand another.”

With his usual cocky smirk, Kenpachi leaned down to kiss your lips once more. This time a little slower and gentler, but still just as eager. 

[highvern]

Secret Games

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x f!reader

Genre: angst, smut, 18+

Warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, penetrative sex, toxic relationship

Length: 1.7k

Note: i cried writing this. the most toxic piece ive ever written but sometimes fic is the best place to work out issues lmao. originally inspired by girlfriend - avril lavigne but i took it and made it a lot worse. thank you @gyuswhore for being the best beta in the world

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Vernon is convinced the entire universe is playing a practical joke on him. It has to be. Vernon would never cheat on his girlfriend, wouldn’t even entertain the idea, and if someone told him a month ago he’d be where he is now, he’d take them to the hospital for a CT scan. 

But a month ago he hadn’t met you, and now Vernon feels like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth.

He loves Olivia. She’s his soulmate, his favorite person, the girl he told his mom was the one since they started dating when he was a junior in college. Four years together and never once did he question if she was the person he wanted to be with.

Until you.

The only person to blame was himself. Getting caught up in the attention of the newest addition to the friend group, failing to ignore longing looks or sideways glances, reacting to your not so subtle touches. It didn’t matter if his girlfriend was sitting in his lap or she was nowhere to be seen, you seemed to zero in on him the moment you entered the room.

From the first night in the smoky club, you had him in the palm of your hand. Dancing on another man while your eyes never left his. Watching him over the mystery man's shoulder, while Olivia pressed her front to his. Pretended the body under his palms belonged to you, the lips pressed to his neck were yours. 

Something passed between you two that night and since then every waking moment of Vernon’s existence revolved around how shitty of a boyfriend he became when put to the test.

But he’d been better lately. Avoiding nights out where you might be lurking, urging his girlfriend to have as many girls’ nights as she wants, hoping she might be slipping the same way he was. But Olivia didn’t look at anyone the way she looked at him. She’d never betray him, never think twice about another man even when they flirt with her out in the open like her boyfriend isn’t sitting right next to her. 

That knowledge only makes the truth harder to swallow. 

The beginning of the end starts in a small hall closet at Soonyoung’s apartment. Everyone came over to celebrate his recent promotion. Several rounds of drinks later, the subject of celebration insisted in a game of hide and seek. There weren't many options to hide almost twenty bodies but alcohol has a way of soothing practical concerns.

Mingyu’s voice boomed through the apartment, jumping into action immediately and sending bodies scurrying for cover. 

Vernon pulled the closet door tight, praying Jun’s attempt to hide behind a lamp and Jeonghan half sticking out from under the couch would buy him enough time to avoid capture.

He could still hear the older man counting when the door opened. A sliver of light cuts across his eyes, casting the body pressing into the space in shadow. For a split second he thinks its his girlfriend, already laughing with childish glee at being so close.

But then Vernon realizes the person pushing in is you.

“Ready or not!”

Vernon tries to move back as far as he can into the wall but the bite of the shelves into his spine prevent more than a few inches of space between you. The door barely manages to click shut in time for footsteps to trample by, Mingyu’s laughter bleeding through the wood. 

In the darkness, Vernon finds a sudden awareness of your body. The roar of blood in his ears does little to drown out the sound of your breathing. Painfully measured breaths that stop every time someone shuffles by on the other side of the door. The heat radiating off your back across the inch of space between your bodies, a ghost of the real thing.

A loud bang makes you both jump, and with the limited space you end up in flat against Vernon’s chest, his arms around your waist to steady you. He knows you can feel his heart pounding. Not from being caught in such a silly game but from the proximity of your ass to his crotch; bodies firmly suctioned against one another. 

He tries not to react when you wiggle against him in an attempt to create more space. Vernon is desperate for you to ignore the hard curve of his pants, rising with each movement, each inhale of your perfume. 

“Vernon?” you call. “I said you're stepping on my foot.”

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Wait, let me just,” you whisper back.

At that moment, all of his defenses crumble. Chest to chest, your breath brushing against his ear, Vernon knows it’s futile to fight what he’s feeling. Your hands skating down his chest confirm it, rocketing his heart into a tailspin. 

He wants you.

And the way you look up at him, with lazy blinks and a drunk smile, tells Vernon you want him too.

A flush makes its way up his neck and he’s thankful for the darkness you're both absorbed in. The thought of all the others beyond the space you two occupy isn’t a blip in his mind. Vernon doesn’t want you to see what an obvious effect you have on him; even if the evidence is digging into the softness of your stomach.

A pass of your lips against his jaw scorches the flesh. Barely a second of contact; simple, chaste. But the imprint will stain his consciousness forever. Each lave of your tongue against the column of his throat forces him deeper into the pits of hell.

The sting of our teeth precedes an airy whine, “Vernon.”

His head drops back at the sound of his name on your tongue again. He wants to taste, to suck the words out of your mouth while his hands force it from your lips over and over again. 

Just as he’s about to, the door knob jiggles.

“Y/N, Vernon! We know you’re in there! We caught everyone else.”

Splitting apart, the warm light from the hall floods the tight space. Stumbling out, Vernon shoulders past you, past his friends, to where Olivia is waiting with a knowing gaze. He can’t look at her. Can’t look at his friends all laughing drunkenly, declaring you the winner 

Despite the look of absolute disappointment Olivia appraises him with, she doesn’t object when his hand circles her wrist and Vernon tugs her through the front door.

—

Vernon tries to bury what he felt in that closet in his girlfriend’s body. Tries to remember how much he loves her, wants to be with her.

Neither of them seem to be fully present. He can feel it in her body, the way she stiffens under his hands like they freeze her muscles solid. The rasps of Olivia’s half hearted moans churn his stomach, tying knots over and over again until he thinks he might be sick. 

They’ve been knocked off their axis by something, someone. The practiced ease of their bodies is nowhere to be found. She’s a step ahead and he’s a step behind but rather than stop and talk about it like they usually do, they both press forward as if it’s normal.

Who they’re pretending for, Vernon has no idea. Each other? Themselves? All the people who’ve watched their relationship bloom over the years? It doesn’t matter. He can feel years of love turning to dust and he can’t bare to watch.

Thoughts of you break the dam in his mind. How you felt under his hands, your lips against his skin, how you’d taste on his tongue. What sounds you’d make if no one interrupted what was just over the edge in the closet. 

The mirage of you, head thrown back in bliss as you take his cock rockets him to the end. Eyes cinched shut, imagination running rampant. It’s you underneath him, skin sticking to his, nails raking down his spine. It’s the smell of your shampoo still lingering in his nose as he buries his face in Olivia’s neck and loses himself in the motions. 

Vernon doesn’t realize he cums with your name on his lips until Olivia’s sobs reach his ears.

–

You shudder against the freezing wind, puffs of smoke washing away as soon as they exit your nostrils. A bile of shame and regret burns the back of your throat; something not even the sting of liquor is able to drive away. But that won’t stop you from drinking straight from the bottle you nabbed from Mingyu’s hand before running outside.

Maybe it's the weed or the booze but you’ve never felt so empty. A bitter hollowness, rotting you to the core. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, prickling in the frigid winter air. The cacophony of street noise falls on deaf ears as you replay the events filling you with misery.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Flirting with Vernon had been Olivia’s idea. A friend helping a friend. She wanted to test his loyalty. Begged you to help her assuage her doubts about their relationship. Vernon’s lack of reassurance, her belief that he’d leave her for someone else. All you were supposed to do was smile and make bedroom eyes and see if he’d cave. When that didn’t work, she told you to step it up; looks turned into touches, and flirty comments turned into late night texts where she told you exactly what to say to have him wrapped around his finger. 

And when that didn’t work, she shoved you into the closet with her boyfriend to see what’d take place in the dark, away from prying eyes.

Olivia got what she thought she wanted in the end. A nod from you was all the confirmation she needed as her boyfriend whisked her out the door. 

No one else seemed to pick up the tension trickling out of the closet. They were all so eager to believe that Vernon and Olivia were in love; the type of couple who you aspire to be like, so wrapped up in one another that the thought of them separated made no logical sense. Why would Vernon even consider someone else? The thought he’d do anything to jeopardize such a clandestine pairing wasn’t even a thought in the horizon.

The buzz of your phone knocks you from your stupor. A humorless huff of air sighs through your nose as you silence the fourth call in the last ten minutes. Barely a second for the same name to pop up again.

Incoming call… Vernon Chwe

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @ourdawnishotterthanourday

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[poppy-metal]

So I’ve sent a few asks about this since i'm not a challengers blog lmao but i feel like ive got this sorted now. This is a polycule au where reader enters via Tashi.

Reader is Tashi’s childhood best friend. They met at a day camp for kids in the neighborhood, and you were excited to let her babble on about tennis and sports and everything else. You traded hair ties and discovered you have the same favorite movie and that was that. 

You were interested in tennis for a bit, an eager little kid, really just excited to have a best friend. Your parents were a bit concerned - don't you want other friends? She seems a little... overbearing... - but you didn’t care. This wasn’t just another kid - this was Tashi. Fire and ice, determination and grit, strength and beauty... You didn’t realize you were falling in love, you were just a kid. But that first love - when given the opportunity - can grow into its own beast. Spin the bottle might have been the first kiss you two share (and your first kiss ever), and it probably should have hurt your feelings more when she told you you were a terrible kisser later that night, but she offered to teach you and you tried to ignore the way your mouth went dry at the thought of tasting her again.

But despite your best efforts, as you drift away from tennis and into the pageant circuit, you and Tashi drift apart too. She still drags you out to do doubles for fun, but you can tell it bothers her that you aren’t as passionate about it as she is. It was her idea to write letters in college - she was flopped out on your bed, looking like a goddess in her tiny pajama shorts. She said it was convenient, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat. You’d been scared that she might just leave you - find a friend with a passion and drive that matched hers. But she wanted you around. Even tried to set you up with Art one time, the four of you crammed in a booth at some shitty diner. You decided then that you hated both boys - you’d heard their names in her letters, tried to ignore the way jealousy coiled in your chest every time they looked at her.

After her injury though... she just drifted away. By the time Lily was born, she rarely wrote back, to your texts or emails. It was too hard - you understood tennis as a game, but not in the way she did. Besides, you were solidly from before. Before the injury, before the marriage, before any of it. In her mind, you were pure. She couldn’t taint that with her pain and loss. You tried reaching out to Art, but he brushed you off.  You ran into Patrick a few years later, at a shitty hotel. You’d almost kissed him - the heat of the moment and the history making desire twist with guilt in your stomach and you’d practically ran from the bar.

But that didn’t mean you stopped writing. And that made everything worse - why couldn’t you be more like Patrick, take a hint, let her go, let her slip fully into her after. But you never forgot a birthday - an ever growing collection of cards and letters in a box under her bed. You’d wondered, sometimes, if she read them. The letters got shorter and shorter as your own life drifted away from you. Empty friendships, empty relationships... it should have alarmed you, the way your life became grey without her. 

After the Challenger, when Patrick was back in their life, he was looking for something of Art’s when he found that shoebox under her bed. The last few letters are unopened - you’d stopped including any details of interest by now, and she couldn’t bear to read the nothingness. You used to fill pages - now you barely covered the front of one.

But despite late night conversations while Tashi was getting ready for bed, neither Patrick nor Art ever felt like it was their place to say anything. Patrick would poke and prod, but never actually did anything. 

It would be another year of radio silence before fate intervened. At this point in your life, you were working as a personal assistant for some big-wig sports sponsor, an overbearing man with wandering hands - but he pays you well, and your contract has a year or so left in it anyways.

The party had barely started when someone taps you on your shoulder. You’d been flitting around in a blush gown, debriefing the staff and restocking tables. You spin, expecting another waiter with a question, but Art’s blue eyes widened as they met yours. He hadn’t recognized you from behind - looking for answers about where to put their coats, but now you were both staring, brains whirring, trying to think of what to say. And you can’t stop  yourself from scanning the room, a million questions swirling in your mind. Is she here? Did she know I was here? Eventually, you and Art are able to get through the awkward conversation, as you try to keep your eyes from traveling the entirety of his form - older, but still muscled, and the crows feet around his eyes only served to increase his attractiveness.

You’d flit away again, your heart pounding in your chest. You still hadn’t seen Tashi - was she even here? It would be a few hours before Patrick would confront you at the bar. You’d finally gotten away from your boss, throwing back a shot surreptitiously. 

“Is he always like that?” He asked, leaning back against the bar, up in your space the way he’d been all those years ago. 

“Hmm?” Was all you could manage, the shock and the alcohol making your mind move slower than normal.

“Your boss. Is he always so touchy?” You don’t answer that, putting your shot glass back on the bar and flitting away again.You’d hosted a thousand parties with your boss - why are they here now?

It was almost midnight by the time you finally see Tashi - you’d been washing your hands in the women's bathroom when she came out of the stall behind you and you both froze. Your brain was running a mile a minute, you weren’t even sure if you were breathing, all those feelings from decades ago coming up your throat.

“It’s good to see you.” Was all she said before slipping out of the bathroom. You find yourself leaning heavily against the sink, just trying to catch your breath.

Tashi would say that it was seeing you with your boss that pushed her over the edge into bringing you back into her life. But both Patrick and Art know that it wouldn’t have mattered if she had seen you with your shitty boss, happily married with kids, or in the height of your career. One look at you was enough.

aw, this one HURT what the hell ☹️☹️☹️☹️ the continued letters :((((( them slowly getting more and more lifeless the more that times passes and the more listless she becomes :(((( i imagine she stops hoping for tashi's reply, probably stops thinking tashi reads them at all - just vents like its a diary - she could buy an actual diary but something about the letters and knowing where they'll end up gives you comfort. you talk about failed dates and how you dont feel like you're built for love, dont think its meant for you. think you're probably always meant to doll it out and not receive it and how its okay and you accept it and you dont resent her for leaving - especially after her injury, you get it - except sometimes you get angry and your letters have tear stains on them with blurred ink lines and you write about how you understand how hurt and devastated tashi must have been and still must be, but why couldn't she let you be there for her? why weren't you enough? why did she accept love from art years later but never sends a letter back to you? why does he get grace from that time in your life, but you dont? what did you do to deserve it?

those are the letters tashi almost replies to - the angry ones - she gets as far as putting a pen to paper but can never find the words to explain how the reminder of you, after her injury, was just too much to bear - all her passion and ferocity and girlish zeal were wrapped up tightly and bound to you - even though you didn't play tennis - you reminded her of everything playing tennis used to make her feel. euphoric. how can she explain thinking of you made her sick to her stomach and by the time she'd gotten to a place where she could stand on her own two feet again. allow love back into her life through art - that she'd simply felt the weight of her cruelty too intensely. she couldn't apologize. she couldn't bear seeing the betrayal in your eyes, the hurt, the wound she'd caused. tashi was tough - but not when it came to you. you'd rip her right open. so she never replied. and eventually, it became too much to read them too.

and art probably knows about you - it's kind of hard not to notice his wife getting letters continuously. he asks about them, and tashi tells them they're from you and arts thinks 'oh.' he feels bad for you, he remembers you - remembers that time tashi tried to set you on a double date and it went miserably because art was too much of a loser back then to know how to treat a woman - and he'd still been very much in love with tashi. you'd been sweet, though. down to earth, kind, funny. he could tell you and tashi adored eachother. he doesn't read any of your letters, but he sees the expression on tashi's face kind of - shrink whenever she gets one - and he recommends only once, "why dont you return it?" but the glare she'd sent him had been enough that he'd never brought it up again. he wanted to ask more about you. had an inkling there was something more there under the surface - something romantic even, but he never knew how to go about asking. you were a touchy subject. it made him endlessly curious, despite himself.

and patrick - patrick probably hurt the worst. tashi marrying art - not being invited to the wedding - it'd hurt, badly. you'd written her many letters about just how much it hurt - but with patrick. it felt like a slap to the face. you and patrick - you felt a kinship with him. you hadn't bonded until well after college, not until years later, when you ran into him one night at a local bar. but catching up with him felt as easy as breathing, and like you'd known him all your life. he was self-deprecating and annoyingly flirtatious and haunted. he asked you about a tattoo you had on your wrist with a finger skimming the mark there and you'd breathed in. and that was it. you spent hours talking about tashi, spooling your guts out - and he did the same. you realized you had a connection there - you'd never been around patrick much when he dated tashi but you could tell he still loved her. just like you did. art too, though you didn't know the man well enough to mourn his absence from your life, other than to be stung that he apparently was more deserving of tashi than you were.

you'd almost went home with him - you could tell he wanted to. and the shared pain you felt drew you to him, you couldn't lie. patrick zweig was attractive and and you knew a night with him would treat you well. he'd make you cum - many times, probably. but the thing that stopped you was the very reason you were called to do it in the first place. god, was everything in your life about tashi? every goddamn thing? even your hookups? patrick wanted you, he definitely thought you were hot, but the peak of his desire came from wanting to have something of tashi's. to be closer to her - or to back at her. he'd make you cum, but it wouldn't be about you, or even for you. you couldn’t even be mad at him for wanting it - because for a moment, you wanted it too. to have something of tashi's - both to be closer to her and to spite her. but that's not who you were, at the end of the day.

you just didn't have it in you to play games.

patrick didn't take it hard. just gave you a half crooked smile and gave you his number if you ever changed your mind. the paper sat folded up in a pocket in your wallet for years to come. never used, but never tossed out.

it would be a few years later - working on an event for your gross boss that you saw the match on screen. catching snatches of it between your rounds of attending to guests, before tuning in fully on your break. breathless and nearly nose pressed to the screen as you watched all three of them come together in the most beautiful match of tennis you'd ever seen in your life. watching art and patrick embrace across the net made your eyes burn. when you saw tashi smile you turned the TV off.

a week later patrick was in the news, pictures of him seen with tashi and art on every article online. you couldn’t escape from their image - pictures of the three of them at a dinner - coming out of the movies. one of tashi and patrick seen laughing at a premiere. another of art and patrick relaxing on beach chairs.

it felt like being stabbed in the chest. the connection you felt with patrick severed. you didn't share anything. he was still chosen, in the end, when you weren't. you threw his number out. crumpled and barely eligible anyway.

you stop writing tashi after that. you doubt she'd notice. it was time you stopped being pathetic and let go. she probably threw the letters away the second she got them. art probably thought you were a nuisance. patrick probably thought you were a joke.

you move through life on autopilot for some time. you tune out news about anything related to tennis. you throw yourself into your job - that you hate. but what can you do? it puts food on the table and a roof over your head and yeah your boss gets handsy and makes inappropriate comments but its worth it kind of because he pays you extra and that means you get to buy the fancy ramen. the kind with actual beef tips in it.

its just any other night, refilling guests drinks - managing the bar when it's unattended - flitting around to see if anyone needed anything. your outfit was bordering on inappropriate - akin to that of a maid - black and white and shorter than necessary, especially for a high brow event such as this. but it was what your boss made all the women wear, so you couldn't complain. and yeah, maybe your skirt was shorter than anyone elses but if you just were conscious enough of your surroundings and keeping the hem from raising, it was manageable.

seeing art is like a bucket of ice being dumped on your head. turning around to see his startled expression feels almost comical. his suit and tie in comparison to your near slutty get up is humiliating beyond belief but you simply paste a smile on your face and pretend like seeing him and what it means that hes here hasn't just made your brain short circuit - you act like he's any other guest. pluck his coat from his arm and tell him if he needs anything to please let you know. you hope he doesn't. you hope he leaves you the hell alone.

if seeing art was ice seeing patrick at the bar feels like being tossed into a fireplace. you feel your skin heat just from him being close. your nose twitches at his comment - patrick was always more perceptive than people gave him credit for - but you didn't want to linger around to entertain him. if he thought he could just talk to you like he did the last time you two talked - like he hadn't spit in your face - he was wrong.

and if seeing patrick was like being thrown in a pit of fire seeing tashi in the bathroom was like being shot through the heart. a bullet entering your sternum. breaking all your bones that'd been paper thin anyway and tearing apart all your lungs and viens and cartilage. beautiful as the day you'd last seen her. somehow even more gorgeous with time and in the flesh. her beauty could never be captured completely by a camera or on a screen, though. it was the kind that shone best in person. because she glowed. she was effervescent. you wanted to die.

"its good to see you."

its good to see you.

over and over again in your head long after the door swings shut behind her. its good to see you like there wasn't a decade of unaccounted time between you. its good to see you like there weren't a thousand unanswered letters between you. its good to see you like you were passing acquaintances. nothing more.

you wash your hands in the sink three times. you fix your skirt, though it does absolutely nothing to do so. you go back outside and you deliberately avoid their table and when your boss pulls you to the side and slides a hand down your arm and tells you, you look like you need a break - you look at him and you know you can do what you usually do, which is act stupid and say no thank you or simply act like you dont know what he wants from you until he gets bored. but then you feel the empty pit in your chest that the bullet left ravaged, and you know you need something to fill it. even if that something will make you hate yourself.

you dont beat around the bush.

"can you take me home after work?"

your boss grins. you smile back, it feels wooden on your face.

"sure i can, sweetheart."

[vigilskeep]

hi! ive seen you talk about your surana a bunch but i dont know if ive seen her full story. what were some of the pivotal decisions she made? i love hearing you talk about your ocs, theyre always so in depth and thought out!

oh thank you!! :) my surana is my Eldest Daughter from my very first full playthrough of a dragon age game, so i think a lot of people newer to the blog (like... from less than a year and a half ago probably lmao) have less of the context in complete form. so i will attempt to summarise!! it may be... long...

minerva surana is a manipulative, driven elven circle mage, heart-breakingly willing to sacrifice whatever she believes is necessary for her Grand Goals, who is often so busy playing 5d chess she forgets she’s a twenty-one year old with no experience of the world outside the tower

okay it did turn out fucking long the rest is under the cut its like 9 bulky paragraphs enjoy

her family were tevinter liberati, elven slaves who had devoted themselves to buying their way out and very recently succeeded. her parents were desperate to see her and her elder sibling grow up knowing only freedom, and sent their children south with another part of the family while they remained to pay off the last of their debts. the journey was long and difficult, and they had little left when they ended up in the denerim alienage. in a twist of bitter irony, magic that might have made minerva someone of value in the imperium saw her freedom once more revoked in the south. minerva remembers nothing of tevinter, and only a few fragments of what came next: of light through the vhenadahl’s branches glinting on a templar’s blade, of her sibling fighting them and being knocked to the ground, terribly still, with blood in their hair, and of her grandmother saying what she might have said many times on that long journey south: we can survive anything, as long as we never look back. ironically, minerva often took that to heart by denying all memory prior to the circle.

young apprentice minerva was a sullen child, with few friends; karl thekla took an elder brother’s interest, and jowan clung to her talent. she only really flourished when, after her terror of her natural gift for spirit magic saw her self-hatred turn dangerous in her early teens, first enchanter irving took an interest. he was a father figure to her, and he showed her how to channel her power into control, and her distress into ambition. newfound devotion to elemental magic saw her hailed as a prodigy, and surely a future first enchanter with irving’s tutelage. (only irving considered her too headstrong for the role. he never told her, fostering the drive he had cultivated, both fearful for the state she might return to if he didn’t, and curious as to what else she might become.) she grew up arrogant and beautiful and deeply loyal to the circle, learning that it was only the weak and the defiant who would fail to thrive there, and convinced she was neither. many of her peers wanted to be her, and few of them wanted to spend much time in her company. except jowan, still the little brother hiding in her shadow, and halliserre amell, a rebellious rival with a winning smile, who made up for their lack of her discipline and raw power with sheer brilliance, and whose heated arguments eventually developed into... ah, something else heated.

not long before the start of the game, amell told her they were going to accept tranquillity. it didn’t matter how clever they were; with their weak magic, they would die in the harrowing. they’d only been so defiant of the circle before because, having accepted their fate, the risks were nothing to them. furious and unable to admit it was because she was in love, the last thing minerva ever said to them when they were whole was that they were a coward not to try. when jowan told her he feared he too would be made tranquil, minerva was still recovering from the loss, not to mention flushed with even more arrogance than normal from her own successful harrowing. she had been the perfect circle mage all her life, twice as good as everyone else to make up for every rumour about where she was from. surely she had earned one defiance. surely she could save this one thing, her oldest friend. and she is a loyal person, in her way, emotion powering her fierce drive, incapable of abandoning what she has set her heart on. irving, from whom she had learned everything, was ahead of her every step of the way. he arranged for her to be taken in by the grey wardens. she had proved herself as headstrong and unsuitable as he had feared—and she was shocked and bitterly betrayed to finally see that—but he also believed this might bring her to where she would truly belong.

as a grey warden, minerva’s highest concern is perception. when the stakes of the game are revealed, she has enough hubris to see it as a chance to not just save but change the world. defeating the archdemon isn’t enough. she needs to be seen defeating the archdemon, at the forefront, as an elven mage; she has enough idealism to believe it will really matter for her and people like her, and enough shrewd cynicism to consider what she may have to sacrifice to achieve it. mostly she approaches problems with the skill for diplomacy and management that irving taught her, with that good good Master Coercion skill. she gets many of the “better” and certainly more peaceful quest outcomes, not always motivated by altruism, but determined to be remembered well when she leaves each faction behind. her one great sacrifice of this goal to be seen as the perfect mage is when she takes up blood magic, determined after she sees its power that she alone can handle it, to get the job done and keep what’s hers alive fight after fight. but that only makes her more dedicated to her actions elsewhere

the real test and most pivotal moment of her arc is at the landsmeet. she has arranged anora’s marriage to an alistair hardened for the role (once more following irving’s example, learning to teach ambition as he had taught hers. is there love in that, or just selfishness? she doesn’t know). all that matters is that the joint rule neatly fulfils her desire for compromise to please all parties. but then she struggles between two aspects of her goal: she wants to be seen, personally, as the victor; she does not want every noble in ferelden to see her kill the hero of river dane with magic. she knows how that scene will be remembered, in the end. when riordan suggests recruiting him instead, it seems the perfect solution to everything, the salvation of the day. and then she realises she’s broken alistair’s heart, just when he’s breaking hers. she is incapable of backing down in front of them all (it’s only to alistair, her alistair, but she can’t do it—not to a human, and not to someone part of her will always see as a templar—not when everything she wants was so close.) he abandons her for the throne she taught him to want. she goes on with loghain in the party, and eventually—unable to let loghain snatch the final sacrifice from her grasp, and realising she does want to win and live, after it all—convinces him to do the dark ritual.

in terms of her most important relationships with companions: minerva traditionally romances zevran, who is in many ways uniquely her match having learned the same bitter lessons with the crows that she learned from the circle, and who is so dear to her and capable of lightening her heart when no-one else can. i’ve also experimented with the idea of her romancing alistair, to really dramatise the Landsmeet Divorce and capitalise on future political shenanigans where she could one day be his mistress, but more traditionally they are simply an extremely closely trauma-bonded pair of people who are incapable, at least that year, of really understanding each other deep down. it falls into a pattern where she loves someone with all that fierce drive, enough to die for them, but she will always prioritise what she thinks they need over what they are saying and what they want, often with misjudgements and terrible consequences for them both. it was true with amell, it’s true for many others

she has something very intense and homoerotic going on with morrigan, she has a strained relationship with leliana and wynne, and she has respect and comradeship and a fair bit of fundamental disagreement with sten and loghain. the awakening squad are the people she will consider family for life, most notably nathaniel who she started out not liking at all and is now her work wife, her right hand, can finish her sentences, etc.; anders, who remembers her as karl’s annoying teacher’s pet telltale little sister and is still sometimes baffled by who she’s become; velanna, who makes minerva her most genuine self by having regular screaming matches with her as a sign of affection; and oghren who tried to quit drinking at the same time she tried to quit blood magic, leading to many conversations that deeply baffled everyone around them.

the “current” minerva surana is a sharp-tongued leader who was born for the role of warden-commander, who loves her work and that it matters, who has a truer confidence that is less blindly arrogant and more willing to admit to mistakes, who has worked her breathless way up to h*lding h*ands in public with someone she loves, who has finally learned the hard lesson that the world needs more than an heroic example who followed all the rules to truly be bettered... and who, as rebellion brews, has never been one to sit back and watch while others changed the world

[kingofthe-egirls]

Omg omg! I'm bombarding you with stuff, lovely. So sorry BUT!!!

I'm listening currently to two feet- love is a bi*** and my mind, I swear

Night on an Island. Lu is lost until he follows the smell to an adult Bar. Going in because of food, the anouncer say your stage name and you come out and Lu is mesmorized! Like he can't look away and approches you, and you flirt with him a little, finding him so cute and handsome 😩😩😩😩❤️❤️

if i wasn't such an introvert and didn't hate loud noises/crowds i would be a stripper lmao

STRIPPER: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: strip club, self-harm scars, stripping/lap dance, sorta angst, stripper has a devil fruit, food)

(a/n: i have no idea if i should've used "she" or "you" so idk man lmao. also ive never been to a strip club, vis-a-vis hating crowds and loud noises, so if ive got any stripper friends out there plz feel free to correct me lmao, also tell me what stripper name u chose for y/n!)

Songs: "Starsick" by Maude Latour, "i'm too pretty for this" by Claire Rosinkranz, "Frankenstein" by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 2.4k

Luffy likes dancing.

He's pretty good at it, too.

But he's never seen anyone dance like this before.

Spinning around on a shiny metal pole, dancing with shoes on that clack together when she lands. Someone hands her money, and she reaches down to take the shiny paper bill. She tucks it into the space between her breasts, lacy bra holding other, sweaty bills.

Her face is slack.

She's scanning the crowd, eyebrows slightly furrowed together. She's not really paying attention to your movement, Luffy notices, especially as she absentmindedly spins around with her legs twisted together. Kinda like a pretzel. Luffy likes pretzels.

"Heya!"

He shouts, crowding his way to the front of the bar. He's at the foot of her stage, the little runway that leads out into the audience lit by blue fluorescents. Her skin is sweaty, and her hair is messy. Fly-aways frame her unamused face. Luffy's skin is heating up.

"Hey," she says, slipping down to kneel in front of him. Her hands trace the neckline of her bra, before sliding down to squeeze her own stomach and hips. Luffy wants to reach out and touch, but Sanji already hit him over the head while telling him the rules.

No touching.

And no spending more than two hundred berries. Luffy wants to see what lap dances are all about, since it's something Zoro and Sanji seem to agree on really liking. Would she like that?

Luffy hands her two hundred berries.

"Can I have a lap dance?" He asks, raising his eyebrows as politely as he can. She gestures to the seating around the the side of the dance floor. It's all vinyl and blue lights with shiny poles in the middle.

"Over there?" She asks, lowering herself to her elbows in front of him. Now her face is below him, and her lace-covered ass is in the air. Luffy thinks she's wearing blue, but with all the disco lights it's hard to tell. Sometimes the lingerie looks purple. He tilts his head.

"Do you have private rooms?"

Sanji had mentioned that's what he's gonna do, so Luffy decides that it's probably good enough for him, too. He's never been to a strip club before. Seems okay, so far.

"I can take you to a VIP booth," she says, swinging her legs over the side of the stage. Someone else is spinning around the shiny pole, now. She's wearing stringy underwear and a sports bra. Luffy helps his stripper down off the stage, supporting her arm as she slides delicately to the floor. It's sticky with spilled drinks.

"This way," she says, her voice airy and disinterested. Her lingerie is definitely violet, now. Luffy follows her like a dog would, tagging along at her heels as she leads him to the back room.

"What's your name?" He asks, the scent of jasmine perfume and sweat wafting off of her. He sniffs his own shoulder, wondering what he smells like to her.

"Y/N."

"That's pretty!" Luffy hops along behind her, scooting into the velvet-lined booth as she opens the door for him. It's small, with tufted black seating and another shiny pole in the middle. There's a mirror on one wall. The others are lined in sparkly gold wallpaper.

She starts circling the pole, leaning away from it as she holds it in one hand. Her legs are crossed.

"So," she starts, deadpan, "Since you gave me two hundred already, I can strip and do a buck show for you. Wanna see me naked?" She arches an eyebrow, but her voice doesn't change. Luffy shakes his head.

"Eh, it's okay. Unless you wanna! But I kinda wanted a lap dance?" Luffy is getting a little impatient, watching her spin lazily around the pole with her feet still on the ground. She looks like she's on the swings on a playground--Luffy kinda wants to try. (Next time).

"Lap dances are cool too," she says, striding over to him nonchalantly to kneel between his legs. Luffy stutters a little, not used to having someone so close to his crotch before. She stares at his lap, openly.

"You've paid me a lot, though. So," she shrugs, sliding her hands up his shins to the frayed ends of his denim shorts. Her fingertips play with the fuzzy fabric. Luffy stares at her hands as they move up his legs and over his thighs. She smiles, a small, polite thing, as she says, "I wanted to make sure you felt satisfied, hah."

Luffy shrugs.

"I've never gotten one before! And Sanji says it's really cool, so..." He trails off, fidgety under your slight touches, "I wanna see what all the fuss is about." He pouts a little, unsure if he's made the right choice.

Luffy's not sure what to do.

His hands steady themselves into fists at his hips. The stripper is sparkling a little, he can see in the overhead lights. She's got glitter on her skin, or something--like Nami’s makeup collection.

I'm so sick of all these pretty boys

tryna act like the shit

The stripper slowly slides into Luffy's lap, and his breath hitches in his throat. He's kissed people before, yeah, but...it's never been quite like this. This, so obviously sexual and endearing.

She slowly grinds her hips onto his, as her fingers start to card through his hair. "Pretty," she says, voice slightly scratchy as she speaks. The music is muffled through the speakers; she stands, turning away from him. Her ass is curvy and round, with slight cellulite at the junction where it folds over the backs of her thighs.

And I wish they wouldn't fall in love

then leave me so quick

She swivels her hips, standing a few feet in front of Luffy. His hands clench in and out of fists, as his body starts to react to what he's seeing. She's gorgeous, there's no denying that, although Luffy's more interested in the aura of disinterest and heartbreak that's roiling beneath her skin. He can almost see her energy, crackling at the edges of her silhouette. It's ultraviolet--sorta pastel blue.

He watches the dancer turn around in front of him, as she slowly lowers down, her hand sliding down her own shimmering leg. She straightens, slotting her knee in between Luffy's thighs. He clenches, suddenly extremely aware of her scent. It's jasmine: sweet.

The song swells a bit, as the chorus starts.

I guess I gotta build my Frankenstein

Draw the picture, color all the lines

She smiles, sliding onto Luffy's lap. She stands above him, space left between them for her to slowly sway her hips side to side. She's supporting herself with one hand held onto the headrest of the black velvet lounge. Her chest is in his face, and he tries not to stare too hard at the gap between her breasts and her bra. She smirks.

His face is red; he knows it.

Sanji wasn't exaggerating at all.

"You can touch me," she whispers, dragging her fingers up Luffy's cheek to rest her palm against the side of his face. She sits down now fully on his legs, her supple weight spilling over his body.

Luffy's hands go to her waist, since that seems the safest place for them to settle. She snickers, and leans forward to start mouthing along his jawline. She's searing heat into his skin.

He makes me laugh; never on my nerves

Gets along with my dad

She switches, so now her back is facing him. She still supports herself on the back of the chair, but now she's swaying her hips up and down, snakelike as she slowly thrusts into the air above him.

I've been searching, don't think it's out there

Oh, so loyal, makes me feel spoiled

Then she's sitting down on him, her ass pressed right up against his crotch. She leans forward, hands on her knees, as she shakes it for him. Luffy snickers a little, letting his hands trail over her ass.

He's my daydream, never a nightmare

Every little thing that I want

"Who was he?" Luffy asks, throat scratchy. She stops, stillness overtaking her frame. He scratches at the tops of her thighs.

"Scuse me?"

She asks, vitriol lining every syllable.

Luffy swallows. "The dude who broke your heart?"

Was he not clear enough?

The heartbreak spilling from her soul is suffocating to him; it fills the room like half-purple steam. The song still plays, undercutting the sound of her breaths quickening in her chest.

"Wh-what shit are you tryna pull?" She straightens, spinning around to face him with her hands on her hips. She pops her weight to one side, glaring down at him with ice in her veins. Her energy sizzles, and Luffy guesses that if she had control of her conqueror's haki, then lightning would be striking through the small room.

She has a cute nose.

Luffy shifts, sitting up fully. He swallows, tongue like sandpaper, as he tries to explain himself. "I--sorry, I--," he stutters and stops, then shakes his head. "I didn't mean ta scare ya..."

She raises an eyebrow, a subtle threat underlining her careful expression. Her heartbeat is wild, sending shockwaves through the purple energy pulsing around her. Luffy stands, straightening his shorts. He holds up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, I--," he starts again, "I see like, um...soul stuff. I guess?" He's not sure how to explain haki to a non-user. (Although he can tell she has observation haki, however subconsciously or not).

"So?"

She stares at him with the eyes of a boa constrictor.

"So...sorry, um. I was just tryna--relate to ya, I guess?" He scratches the back of his head, a rare flush of embarrassment shooting through his cheeks and down his spine. He swallows.

She puffs out a sigh, and goes to lean against the pole.

"My dad," she says, staring at a spot on the floor next to Luffy's feet. She scuffs the sparkly floor with the toe of her stripper heels.

"S'okay," Luffy shrugs, scratching at his own arm, "I won't judge ya."

She sniffs, twisting her lips to one side. "He—left."

"So did mine," he offers, sorta lamely. She smiles, the first twitch of her lips that Luffy's believed all night. He's glad he said hi to her.

"Sorry for asking," he says, thumbing at his nose. He's never felt this...awkward before. She shrugs.

"S'okay," she echoes him, smiling slightly. Her eyes are sparkly, in the lights. She's wearing blue eyeshadow, with silver lines around her lashes. Sometimes Luffy watches Nami do her makeup, standing over her shoulder and making funny faces in the mirror. Luffy stretches his own cheek out, slapping it back against his face in an effort to make his stripper laugh. She stills, eyes wide, before she quirks up a smile.

"Power user?" she asks, grinning. Luffy nods, squeezing his eyes shut in pride like he always does. She snorts, and hooks an elbow around the pole. She spins slowly around it, lifting her feet off the ground.

She sprouts wings.

"Same!" She chirps happily, feathery wings flapping slightly. They're blue and turquoise, with sunshine-colored insides, like a parrot's. "Parrot-parrot fruit," she says, smirking in her own shining pride.

"SO COOL!!!"

Luffy lunges forward, sifting his fingers through the soft feathers. She gasps, but doesn't stop him. She stretches out her wings.

****

She ends up sitting on the black velvet chaise with him, sipping her ginger drink she'd gotten someone to fetch for her from the bar. She's smiling in earnest now, her wings stretched out and proud behind her. She's a lot prettier with wings.

"Okay, okay," she's saying, smirking into her fizzy drink, "So I was twelve, and I was scrounging around in the jungle for something to eat--,"

"Oh, me too!!" Luffy says, sitting up in his seat, "I was raised in a jungle too!!"

She snickers, covering her face with one feathered hand. "So dangerous," she says, and Luffy shrugs. He's used to danger. (Is that what the D stands for?) He's not sure.

"So, anyway," she sips from her frosted copper mug, "Super hungry, super lost, thirsty as all shit--and I stumble across this stupid fruit. It's green, all swirly, sorta like a kiwi? Like the inside of it," she swallows, and Luffy sneaks his fingers into her drink. She scoffs, surprised, but she lets him swipe the lime wedge anyway.

"And ya ate it?"

"Mhmm," she nods, wings folded behind her as she speaks, "Tasted like shit--,"

"Mine too! It was purple though."

She smiles, "And there ya go! Sprouted wings and found out I could shift shapes, now. Sorta really cool, actually...," she trails off, eyes sliding to the side. Luffy pokes her cheek.

"Ya can fly, right?!"

"Mhmm, but not for very long."

"So cool," Luffy says again, relaxing back into his seat. His fingers circle his big toes, as he rocks back and forth. He's hungry.

"Can we get snacks?"

She stares at him for a second, but then shrugs. "Sure," she smirks, "My shift's over, anyway. Wanna steal something from the back?"

Luffy's chest soars.

She stands, extending her hand to him. He takes it, and follows along behind her as she leads him out of the club and back in through a back door. She doesn't mind walking around the streets and alleyway in her heels and lingerie, which Luffy likes. She looks comfy, like that. She leaves her wings out too, which Luffy likes even more.

She sneaks into the fridge, opening it to survey its contents. "Salami?" She asks, holding out a log of spiced meat. Luffy thinks he knows what falling in love feels like, all of a sudden.

He licks his lips.

"Sure," he sounds a little hungrier than he means to, but she hands him the whole thing anyway. She reaches back in to pull out a wedge of cheese for herself.

"Let's go eat," she leads him back through the alleyway and down the street. She's got her duffel bag over her shoulder, having run into the dressing room to grab her things. She's wearing a hoodie over her sparkly lingerie, but the sleeves are too long since she's wearing it under her wings. It drapes over her elbows as she walks.

Sanji's gonna be so jealous.

Luffy is giddy as he follows her down the street. She chews her bites of cheese slowly, whereas Luffy has already inhaled his meat. She turns to him, suddenly.

“Wanna stay over at my place?”

Luffy grins.

“Sure!”

[adamnablelittledevil]

Reacting to The Vampire Lestat - Part IV (with a bit of spoilers)

Lestat's narration has gotten so much better actually. I mean, I still don't care when he talks about stuff that doesn't have an effect on him, but when he describes things/people that actually do? It's great. It's just so vivid, rich, colorful, sometimes even abstract that simply makes me giggle and kick my feet. When he gets really thoughtful about life, vampirism, existence, religion, morality, feelings, theater, music etc, it feels like borderline insanity, but in a brilliant way? Feels like I'm tasting some crazy drug and tripping, but it's so good? It activates a very specific part of my neurodivergent brain and I love it because I'll also be having those crazy thoughts all by myself with nobody to talk to and Lestat just gets it.

I also love the excess of exclamations on this POV haha.

Sometimes it just feels like a naive child telling things and is kind of endearing.

ARMAND!

Armand in Lestat's words: he was beautiful, ethereal, sublime, exquisite, delicate, soft, perfect, a Caravaggio painting, a Da Vinci painting, an angel, I found myself in him, the possibility of him, I didn't pay attention to [whatever] because I was looking at him etc etc.

Basically calling him the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, really.

Like, I legit MEMORIZED some of them. Lestat was THAT repetitive lmao.

I don't know if it's because the words were so superlative or because Lestat had it that bad or because I have it that bad just thinking about it, but yeah.

I'm not even kidding when I say I need to take pauses because this is kind of unsettling.

I'm so serious, but I feel like reading Lestat's description of Armand has a bigger effect on me than the prettiest person I have ever seen in freaking R E A L L I F E? What the hell, WHAT IS THIS SORCERY?

Lestat, tone it down, I'm begging you.

Been told Armand is really that gorgeous and every character talks about him that way, so apparently he isn't exaggerating... I'm gonna lie down, bye.

It's even worse because I just picture show!Armand because he's even more handsome there so it makes me dizzy.

Also because Lestat won't miss an opportunity to talk about his beauty? He LITERALLY says it EVERY SINGLE TIME he sees Armand. I'm not joking, I swear on my own life. I'm like, OKAY, WE GET IT? ENOUGH!

Armand (Lestat's version) on season 3 will be insufferable and I'm so ready for it. But also not ready yk.

At this point I'm basically just drooling over him and I don't care.

PERFECT casting with Assad. He incorporates Armand like no other. Everyone on the show is talented and I can see them as their characters, but there's one thing or another that I imagine differently sometimes? But not Armand, like, my Armand looks, walks, moves, talks, stares etc the exact same way Assad does it on the show. Every single time. The others are like, 90% or something for me, but Assad is 100% my imagination? It's like he traveled in time, stole my 2024 thoughts, went back to the past, auditioned, got the part and then played it exactly the way I see it today. It's crazy.

Wouldn't be surprised if that's the case, they already have all these possessions going on, what's more to our little satanic show lmao.

Also, great casting with Assad because no man with red-ish hair has looked this good ever. It just doesn't make sense, I'm sorry.

Armand is a beauty God, but also a really good character and I love his lines. Even when I don't agree with him, I just find him fascinating, the role he has on the story, what he represents, the way he moves the plot, whatever the effect he has on Lestat etc...

Armand's moments are never boring. He'll probably piss me off later, but right now I'm having a great time and the book has never been better.

Lesmand's/Armandstat's moments are always heated. The tension is always there. I'm not telling you what kind. Actually, I don't even know it myself. Do THEY even know?

Sam said something about how you're never sure what they are and I think he's right? At least for now. Let's see it after all the books.

They also act like they've known each other forever, have this crazy history that goes through centuries and they already can push each other's buttons... But they actually, like, only know each other for 5 minutes? CHILL?!

They're sort of soul ties/mirrors/foils/two sides of the same coin-coded in an appealing way.

I guess I can say Armand is my favorite character right now. I always read it faster when he's there, I'm always looking forward to seeing him again, I'm fine when I don't see Gabrielle or Nicki, but I'm always like, BRING HIM BACK. I don't know if I should be worried I'll grow into hating him when stuff happens or if I'll just be an Armand apologist lol. I'm scared. But let's wait to see it.

Samssad on season 3 will be delicious. Specially on the 1700s flashbacks. I'm expecting almost, if not EVERY scene of them there to be INTENSE. Great acting potential there.

I really want to see a moment with Armand and Lestat in a church like on the book? Let's take their angelic faces and curls to the next level. Put them in a church, surrounded by religious figures, stained glasses, candles etc. I don't even care what the context will be. They can be talking, silent, killing each other, doing something else, doing all of it, but give me the heavenly visuals. Actually, if they want to film the entire show in a church they can, it would be so aesthetically pleasing. Bonus points if they use Gothic churches because I'm extremely obsessed with them. Bonus points if they use Sainte-Chapelle because I'm kind of even more hyperfixated on that. I mean, it would never happen, but it should *shrugs*.

Btw, the mess Armand made in the house and the way he was reading the books is very neurodivergent of him.

The way he prefers to talk telepathically instead of speaking out loud is very neurodivergent of him as well.

Nicki is soooooooooo doomed by the narrative, omg. Anne didn't even try to hide it.

I'm not really sure how I feel about Nicki except that he needs therapy...

This is probably the silliest comment so far, I'm no longer thinking clearly after Armand's introduction. Sorry, guys. It will happen again.

The next chapter has his name so I'm scared, but also excited.

P.S. Nothing is permanent, opinions might change and this is based on Lestat’s narration, which can be unreliable. I’m reading the books so I can find out more about the characters, what potential events might happen in the show, what I can expect etc. This is my favorite show in the universe, so I want to be as informed as possible. I have no idea if I’ll become a legit fan of the books or not, but so far I’m enjoying it. I’m posting these comments only for fun.

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hello there lovely, is there any chance that you could write something - anything really idc if it's a drabble, hc or oneshot- involving tatted Crosshair and his send nudes tattoo?

No pressure of course. love your stuff and keep it up^^

have a nice day <3

This was only meant to be a drabble but I got carried away.

And yes I know this fic starts off almost identically to one of my other fics (I think it was one of the follower celebration ones) but for this specific fic I needed to reuse an old trope dont @ me please I've had writers block （；¬＿¬)

This is also another one of my classic medic!reader fics because I wanted it to be gender neutral and doc is the easiest gender neutral nickname I can come up with.

I am not a creative person lmao.

anywho, this is based off of @cloned-eyes absolutely sinful art, which is honestly some of my favorite Crosshair art of all time.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Sexting (I think that's it lmao) Words: 2200+

Been a while since ive written anything this long so i hope my writing is still up to snuff

Masterlist

Where could he be? Where on this maker forsaken facility could he possibly be? You storm through the halls of Kamino looking for Wrecker, the errant clone needing to come and see you for updates to his immunisations before he or the rest of clone force 99 are allowed back out into the field.

It’s not surprising that he’s avoiding you, out of all of them, Wrecker is by far the worst with needles. The man can’t stand them, avoids you like the plague when he knows that it’s time to keep his vaccinations up to date and for what its worth you can’t really blame him. No one enjoys needles.

You huff and place your hands on your hips as you think about where the lovable giant could possibly be. You’ve already checked the mess, the armoury, the Marauder and the training centres with zero sign of him. When you got to the marauder Tech just gave you that look that says, “I understand you need to find him but I’m not going to rat him out” and while you often applaud clones for their loyalty to one another, when it stops you from doing your job it makes you want to rip your own hair out in frustration.

You make your way over towards their barracks, hoping and praying to whatever deities that will listen that you’ll find him and be able to get on with the rest of your job. You take a deep breath, standing out the front of their doors, before keying in your medical override and stepping inside.

You don’t find wrecker, and you wish you had knocked.

Standing in front of you is Crosshair, in just a towel, dark lines of ink on full display over his tanned body. You’ve never actually seen him without his shirt on before, never needed to. The sniper usually manages to stay out of trouble and doesn’t need any assistance when the boys return to Kamino so you had no idea he was covered in tattoos.  

You run your eyes over his chest, taking in all the impressive art that litters his toned form. The silhouette of his beloved 773 Firepuncher that stretches along his chest, the artfully done letters of aurebesh that stretch above his stomach, the other smaller words and phrases that extend down his hips, tantalizingly low, slightly obscured by the fabric of the towel that’s gripped in his left hand.

You run your eyes up his arm towards his face, knowing that he’s going to be wearing that sickeningly infuriating smirk of his and wanting to avoid the cliché “Like what you see?” you know he’s going to drawl at you like you’re in some terrible holodrama.

As you brace yourself to face him, your eyes catch on a single phrase tattooed on his left arm, slightly more patchy and faded than his other ink as if it were the result of a drunken night out in some shady tattoo parlour in the Uscru District of Coruscant. Two simple words that have a profound effect on your physiology causing even more heat to rush to your face, deepening the blush that you know is already far too pronounced on your cheeks and ears.

“Send Nudes”

You finally have the courage to snap your eyes up to his and just as you expected you’re greeted by his frustratingly handsome smirk, his eyes boring into yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, as if this is going to be the final nail in the coffin for your poorly hidden mutual attraction to one another that’s been simmering the last few cycles that’s threatening to reach boiling point as you maintain eye contact.

You lamely open and close your mouth trying to find something to say to the barely covered man in front of you before he decides to end your suffering, breaking the silence with the just as cliché “See something you like doc?” he raises an eyebrow at you before walking over towards his bunk, reaching into a pouch on his discarded armour and producing a toothpick, slipping it between his lips as he looks you up and down.

“I um-” you finally look away from him, suddenly finding the old training posters above his bed intensely interesting trying to figure out what to say to him as if you weren’t just ogling his naked chest and arms for an unprofessionally long amount of time.

You clear your throat “I was just looking for Wrecker… he needs his shots” your eyes dart around the room, avoiding his smug, self-satisfied face for as long as humanly possible.

You cringe at how your voice falters, yours and Crosshair’s interactions are always a battle of wits and snark, constantly trying to one up each other as the rest of the batch endeavour to ignore your vague attempts at flirting with one another. Both of you trying your best to goad the other into making the first move, dancing around the invisible line you’ve both drawn in the sand but never crossed.

From the corner of your eye, you see him walk towards you, you see his arm adjusting the towel around his hips and your eyes are drawn to that stupid tattoo on his arm again, the one that makes you want to throw professionalism out the window and jump his bones regardless of any regulations or rules that would get in the way and muddy the waters.

“Wrecker’s not here” his voice has dropped an octave, as if getting you alone in his room has made him realise that there is nothing physical stopping the two of you from muddying the waters of your relationship and taking that final step. You swallow the saliva that’s started pooling in your mouth, attempting to remind yourself that you’re on duty, you’re in the barracks, any one of the rest of his squad could walk through those doors at any moment an interrupt whatever lewd and improper things you both want to do to one another.

While you were wrestling with your own thoughts and feelings you miss how close he’s managed to get to you, his silent footsteps bringing him directly in front of you and you stare up at him. Has he always been this tall? You lock eyes with him, neither of you saying anything as you just stare at one another, each of you silently willing the other to close the distance between the two of you and take the leap.

He begins moving his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing over your face, it smells minty you vaguely register as you move your face closer to his, closing your eyes and the distance between the two of you when suddenly you hear loud, boisterous laughter approaching from the other side of the door.

You curse under your breath. Despite this being the whole reason you’re in the barracks to begin with, you would give anything for a few more moments alone with Crosshair. Both of you pull away from one another, Crosshair grabbing a spare change of blacks and walking back into the refresher before the door to the barracks opens and you see the wayward clone himself stare at you with wide eyes. He knows he’s got nowhere to run now as you fix him with a glare that one would assume is because of the amount of time and effort you put into finding him and not because of the fact he just interrupted… whatever was about to happen between you and Crosshair.

You walk out of the barracks with Wrecker in tow, attempting to push whatever it was that was happening with Crosshair to the back of your mind, at least for now.

After another few hours on duty, you finally return to your quarters, sore exhausted and replaying the interaction you had with Crosshair over and over again in your mind. No matter how you try to distract yourself, whenever you close your eyes, you see the dark lines of ink that cover his sculpted body. Does he have more tattoos? Do the go lower? You mind is reeling, and you can’t focus on anything else, you can’t even sleep all you can think about is stupid Crosshair with his stupid tattoos and that stupid send nudes tattoo he has on his stupid arm.

You sigh, picking up your datapad in a vague attempt at tricking your brain into doing something productive when you get an idea. Arguably a terrible and stupid idea that could have a negative affect on your career but… an idea, nonetheless. Sighing and shaking your head you throw your datapad down onto your bed as you stand up to take a shower.

No… this is a terrible idea.

You undress and stare at yourself in the mirror. Maybe… its not a terrible idea? Your mind keeps going back to his tattoos and you decide to throw caution to the wind. Walking back into your bedroom you snatch up your datapad and open an encoded chat with Crosshair’s personal frequency double and triple checking the recipient to make sure what you’re about to do doesn’t end up in the wrong hands before steeling your nerves and standing in front of the mirror. The lighting isn’t the most flattering but you don’t let yourself dwell on that for too long before you strike what you hope is an appealing pose and taking a series of pictures, attempting to highlight your assets.

You flick through the pictures selecting the ones you think are the most flattering and before you have a chance to second guess yourself you send them through to Crosshair with the caption “As instructed”.

You wait for a moment, encrypted chats don’t have notifications for when the recipient has seen the messages so you wait with baited breath for a response. When one doesn’t come immediately you throw your datapad down onto your bed and run your hand through your hair, deciding that maybe he’s just not looking at his datapad right now you finally take your shower, attempting to wash away your nerves and embarrassment, pushing your fear of rejection out of your head as you let the warm spray wash over you.

When you exit the shower and towel yourself off you look at your datapad and see a reply from Crosshair. Your breath catches in your throat as you move to open the message and see that it comes with an attachment.

Holding your breath, you open the attachment only to be greeted by a picture of Crosshair, standing in the refresher in his barracks, wearing only a pair of loose fitting black pants that are pulled down to his thighs revealing what can only be described as the nicest cock you have ever seen. You’ve never thought that cocks were attractive before, but somehow he’s managed to change your mind. It’s long and thick and the way his slender fingers wrap around his girth makes your mouth water.

After spending far too much time searing the sight of it into your memory you read the text that he sent along with the photo just one simple word; “More”.

You dive into bed, datapad in one hand, legs spread however before you get a chance to take and pictures you receive another message from Crosshair, this time there is no text, only a video. You open it and press play.

You watch in pure delight as the recording of Crosshair’s hand moves over his hard, weeping length, his fingers tightening as he gets to the tip creating more pressure around the head. Small sighs and choked breaths can be heard from the audio as his hand works his cock and just as the video ends you swear you hear a whisper of your name.

You scramble to return the favour, attempting to capture the best possible angle as you manoeuvre one hand down between your legs to begin working yourself over. You have the luxury of not needing to share your living space with anyone, so you put on a bit of a show, moaning and whimpering and gasping his name as you touch yourself and push yourself over the edge with a final long moan of his name. Your chest rising and falling as you hit send before you can change your mind or second guess yourself.

Not long after that you receive the final video of the night, your mouth waters and you can feel heat rushing down south again as you watch Crosshair vigorously stroking his cock, muffled gasps and groans coming from his end as he works himself, the head of his cock is so red it’s almost purple and you can see beads of precum leaking out of the tip and running onto his hands as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge. You watch as he bites his lip, face contorting in pleasure as the lines of ink on his skin move with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to stay quiet.

He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip so hard you think you see him break the skin, as he stifles a moan of your name, spilling ropes of cum over himself, his hand and his chest, panting before the video ends.

You get one other message from him on the encrypted channel.

>Might need to see you in medbay tomorrow for a busted lip

@where-is-my-mind-tho@antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725@vincentferard

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

You've Got The World in Your Eyes

I KNOW I HAVE A LOT OF REQUEST TO FILL I PROMISE THEY WILL BE IVE JUST BEEN SWAMPED, THESE LIL THINGS ARE THINGS I DO BEFORE I PASS OUT LMAO

That being said

Guys im so lonely and constantly afraid I'll never find a husband so these little things make me feel a little better desoite the fact that Arthur isn't real and I'll never have him, and I'd be INCREDIBLY lucky if I find someone whos even slightly like him.

Anywho

Have some more crumbs of our boy

WARNINGS: fluff arthur, femalre reader, drunken talking

Tags: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @kieropal @cantchoosejust1

You stared ahead, a smile crossing your face as the fire illuminated both you and everyone else sitting around the fire at Horseshoe Overlook.

You were far too drunk to really care if the person of your interest really caught onto your staring.

You couldn't tell anyone who asked just how much you'd drank.

In your defense Sean had dared you to drink more than him for his return party, and of course, with everyone in high spirits you'd agreed, and you were hardly able to say to anyone that you were sober.

So, you stared unabashidly, unashamed, at the man sitting across the fire from you, singing along with the rest of the gang, albeit not that well.

Yet that deep voice of his balanced out the lighter tones of Pearson and Sean, as well as Javier and Uncle.

Oh, what a man he was, that Arthur Morgan.

Attractive beyond what was reasonable, smart, too, with a good head on his shoulders, and strong, strong enough....well to put it frankly strong enough to do things to you that you wouldn't rightky say out loud to someone.

The firelight bounced against his jaw as he continued to sing along, to a now much sadder song that what the group had been singing before.

His face was littered with scars, most of them covered by that stubble that you'd come to love so much.

His eyes too.

A part of you, even drunk, hoped he'd look at you, so you could see those beautiful eyes of his.

They were blue, like the sky, but they had so many other colors in them it was hardly fair to say they matched the sky.

They were flecked with green, and almost gold near his iris's, and in normal circumstances you'd never admit that you'd paid that much attention to it.

But right now, you could only try to sit and figure out what to compare those eyes too.

They were sea green sometimes, and steely grey other times, but that blue is what shines through the most.

His eyes were so expressive too, you could see when he was worried or concerned, you could tell when he was happy, or angry, just by looking at his eyes, you didn't need th rest of his features to tell.

To you, those eyes held the universe, your universe, your world, in them.

Arthur finally turns his head to see you, and as he does, something within him seems to change.

Drunk as he is he doesn't feel much heat, not until he meets your eyes.

That smile plastered to your face sends butterflies through him, and all he can see is just how gorgeous and kind you are.

He's loved you for longer than he cares to admit, but he's never thought that you could feel the same, not until that moment.

He can't help but offer a tiny smirk back to you, and for a moment you see something in his eyes that you're not completely sure you've seen there before, and it's aimed at you.

It sends sparks throughout your body, it nearly sobers you right then and there.

That beautiful, unwavering, returning stare, of love.

[littleseasalt]

I'm so interested in the idea of q!jaiden and q!forever being parallels, ive never considered that much before! Would you mind elaborating on why you think that?? Especially cause im a big jaiden fan but i don't watch forever much!!

Oh, sure!

The main thing you need to get between q! forever and q!jaiden parallels is q!forever's reason for mistrusting q!jaiden. Basically the whole heated thing the fandom does between them and brings up every once in a while. And q!forever's reason has always been that he knew that if he was in q!jaiden's place, he would have done worse. Had it been Richas the one who died, q!forever knew he would be doing anything to have Richas back, or to avenge him somehow. And we do see he was true to his word when he got extremely angry and wanted to blow up the island and everyone. Forever mistrusted Jaiden (will be dropping the q! because honestly tiresome to type it out everytime on the cellphone) because he was projecting, he wouldn't trust himself if he was in her place.

Also a small note but something that I see people bring out often- Forever is the most motherly father of Richas. Like literally you could make a list of all the scenes where he acted exactly like a Brazilian mom would act.

Then we get to the happy pills arc, where Forever, drugged to a illusional state, sees a rock as his own son. He builds a secret place at his home, where he hides richarlystone for his drugged mind happy delusional state, gets a bunch of pictures of richas' family and puts up on the wall. Isn't it somewhat similar to jaiden's house at bobby fields?

Now, I personally don't like comparing much drugged forever to jaiden because. hey he was fucking drugged and not in the control of his mind, but I can't deny there is somewhat of a parallel here.

It gets more clear when Jaiden herself ends up seeing the house, and at first she gets weirded out, then proceeds to say something along the lines of understanding it and everyone grieves on a different way (I can't remember exactly her words sorry, can't really check her vod rn too), THEN, she finds a secret waystone on the place that is named "forevers weird place". Now compare that to Forever following Jaiden and Cucurucho to bobby fields and putting up a waystone "Jaiden secret house", finding the place filled with Bobby pictures weird, then proceeding to say he would do worse if he was at her place. Aren't those two situations extremely familiar?

Now, the reason I put the parallels as an answer is because of something I've seeing some people point out on twitter, although I personally don't agree with it fully.

Forever is happy that he got put on drugs by Cucurucho because otherwise he would have blown up the island. Despite how horrible being forcibly drugged was, he is somewhat glad that it happened. (now this is the part where I don't fully agree with what people are pointing out) Immediately after he woke up, Cucurucho goes and check on him, ask how he's been doing, ask if he needs more of the drugs. Yesterday, Cucurucho asked him again how he's doing, about his health. Cucurucho is somewhat being nice towards him. This would be similar to Cucurucho approaching a grieving Jaiden and manipulating her. So I've seen some people who are expecting Forever to end up more fed friendly today, like what happened to Jaiden. I personally don't fully agree with this analysis of Forever accepting that due to the friendliness being showed, but oh well.

I'm sure there's probably a lot more I could point out that I'm missing or forgetting- maybe other fellow Jaiden and Forever enjoyers could add on to this post, but currently I'm typing this while working on a college work to write with two friends, so sorry if something crucial slipped out of my mind LMAO. hope this post was somewhat helpful!

[fairyhaos]

🎱 🔪 🥝 and 🧩 for the ask game please!!

also how have you been 🥰 i've missed you <3

sky!!!! ive been good omg hbu :(( it's been sooo hot everywhere lately so i hope you're keeping yourself hydrated and also doing fun things so the heat grumpiness doesn't get to you ^^

🎱: post your total ao3 stats

tbh ive never looked at these fully myself jdhdjd so.... as of today here they are 🫣

i already answered 🔪 here :D

🥝: do you lie a lot? what's the latest lie you told?

umm not really?? i don't exactly have reasons to lie 😭 except when im being sarcastic like if you go "i like your watch!! 🥰" then with my whole chest ill go "thanks i made it 🥰" just for fun :P and this is a real life event so ig that counts as my latest lie haha

🧩: what makes you click away from a fanfic immediately?

ohhh okay so. a whole lot, actually.

incorrect/ NO (‼️) paragraphing, inconsistent tenses, too many cases of incorrect grammar, use of the wrong homophones (he was unfazed, not unphased!!!!) use of the first person, untagged nsfw, something that's horrifically ooc that it's almost a writer's oc, too much reported speech (aka 'he then said he went to the shops' instead of "I'm going to the shops," he said), side pairings i don't like, inconsistent plot, fic is so short it feels incomplete, a piece of lore for a character that i personally don't vibe with (my man beomgyu will Never play american football tf), maybe im just having a Day and i just don't vibe with the fic

and a load of other petty things lmao

writer's ask game!!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hey Silly (can I call you that from now on?) it's been a while! How you doing?

I saw your prompt list and I just thought why not? So, the character I'm choosing is Father from C:KND (obviously). The tropes would be; #2,#5,#8

Just y'know, angst :>

Prompts 2, 5, and 8 with Father

woo yeah its been a while since we've touched the tropes list! and yes you may keep calling me silly, or admin! or admin silly when addressing me on this blog! I uh.. never gave an intro for myself and ive kind of stuck with the silly/admin name since people started using it for me LMAO prompts: sick, hanahaki, mutual pining notes: reader is gn, all prompts are treated as separate scenarios but hindsight is 20/20 as i realize these would have been fire paired up together as one connected thing cws: sickness and general hanahaki stuff

SICK

i might make a post where the roles are reversed, buuuut

i think, benedict is the grumpy kind of sick

but to be fair when is he not at least a little grumpy/j

will stay in bed so at least you dont have to worry about fighting him to rest- he already feels crummy and besides he can afford taking some time to himself to just.. lay down

a little snippier than usual

assuming his natural body heat doesnt kill off or hinder anything that can make him sick, hes running even warmer than usual.. something something warmer bodies being able to slow down infections + from my understanding a fever is just the body attempting to fight an infection

so logically it makes sense that hes burning hot

not very clingy when sick nor does he go out of his way to crawl out of bed to seek you out

HANAHAKI

okay hear me out: hes the one with hanahaki. as much as i think he would move forward with asking you out, i also enjoy the idea that he tends to self isolate. something something mini character analysis/heavy hc that he swallows up a lot of his more vulnerable feelings and/or translates them into anger something something a lot of that being a product of upbringing something something i am grandfathers number 1 hater

burns the flowers and petals before anyone can ask about them, however i do think as the sickness progresses he slowly loses his powers. quite literally sapping him of his energy

honestly i can see him going through the surgery route just to get rid of the plants

no happy ending here, sadly... even worse if you actually had feelings for him as well, unaware to him

becomes more snappy with the people around him, lashing out from worrying over the sickness as well as the pains (emotional and physical)

MUTUAL PINING

that said if he has feelings for you that dont make him cough up flowers, i think hes more inclined to ask you out since it makes it feel less... "life threatening" and "subtly begging for his life if we're going the route where feelings need to be returned otherwise the person dies"

i do think hes at least a little oblivious, at least in the beginning and if youre not being blunt- his mind is always working on what evil deed to do next!

very receptive when he does realize youre flirting with him, it doesnt take long for the two of you to go on a date

dont let this think that he has rizz, by the way. hes still inexperienced but he has just enough confidence to... (scrambles with papers) lock in, becomes clear with time that he hardly knows what hes doing LMAO

leaves gifts for you leading up to the two of you going out, and they tend to be higher quality or even a baked good hes overheard you mention enjoying

[3416]

re: mitchy/scapegoat stuff. ive never been someone who ever used the ask/submit button despite being here for like more than 12 years asjjdjfkf - but wanted to say that i love the more nuanced discussion you bring about sports/TML/ideology and frameworks etc surrounding fandom and sport culture. I roam around reddit a lot and am obviously subbed to all the hockey subs, and the bigger IG pages and ...good lord above. like, for the sake of optimism, maybe some of the comments about Mitch are just chirps and half-hearted jabs (shambles in his brain, tiny hands, and then like shitting on goalies as a tactic from auston (lmfao) etc.) --- but the ones on Mitch are so gendered, demeaning, and seem more personal. he's small, he's popular, he's playful and kind, quirky, bubbly and friendly and called 'mouse', whatever. and guys pick that "femininity" apart and go for the jugular where if he isn't a roided out, snagged a blonde haired gf with 2 kids and stoic, quiet and physical - he's a failure. tbh I have a broken ankle rn and housebound, i could go on and on about how Mitch is in the limelight as a vector to that gendered/ideological debate of masculinity in hockey but then I'd be writing a thesis on tumblr dot com LMFAO. tldr Mitch is an easy target because there's an outside pressure for players to fit a mold, regardless of on ice skill (imo)

oh yeah, i totally agree with you, and i think anyone who's taken any kind of interest in mitch marner has seen the way he's talked about on the whole by the typical masculine sports fan online and been like... what the fuck is that lol. right now the shitstorm with him is so fucking frustrating bc it's not valid critique of his play, it's SOOOO character based. it's people making up rumors about him. it's people wanting to run him out of town for fucking breathing. and then within that, you KNOW the men spewing all this shit or the ones primed to hate him ARE using that kind of language about him in private circles and it drives me fucking nuts. it's pretty transparent when people Pretend to be neutral about him, and then the SECOND something goes awry for the whole team, it's 100% placed on him and moving him is the ONLY option to change up anything about this roster. like no bro. i know that's not what your ask is primarily about, sorryufhjdskl... i get heated, but i'm just so ....... he really does represent what a bunch of old men ass hockey watchers hate about hockey nowadays but also what is ultimately making hockey more of a marketable sport: skill, lmao. and he's 'smaller' than the normal guy.. and he's genuinely pretty to look at... he doesn't play a gritty or hit-heavy game (and the game itself will continue to trend away from that style of play.. or SHOULD lmao considering the lasting injuries that come out of this sport but i digress. theyre behind the other leagues for a reason) and he sometimes has had an attitude with the media after being dragged through the fucking mud for many things out of his control. it's just so........ frustrating. and it's evil. and sorry if i don't take all the men who say that kind of shit's opinions in good faith or seriously when it comes to what the future of this team looks like bc if they had their way, it'd be a team i'm not even a fan of.

[elibean]

listen these boys have me in a vice grip ok, ive spat out like 5 fic for them in a week. this has literally never happened to me before lmao

anyway i signed up for an ao3 account and i should be done with that soon so i’ll stop spamming the tag with my fics. BUT UNTIL THEN, you’re stuck with me >:D

this runs with the “LG is from an alternate timeline” theory! 

when cxs first meets back up with LG and doesn’t think he’s alive, he ugly cries. When he is reminiscing abt lg when he thinks he’s dead, he ugly cries. I thought hey, lg isn’t very emotional. We really only see him get riled up as it pertains to cxs. What would it take for him to cry? And this is the product of that train of thought xD I’m sorry. Also whatever route s2 ends up taking, this will inevitably no longer jive with canon but hey for now it works!

           Every timeline, no matter how hard he tried, always resulted in this. Always, always, always. He should have stayed dead when possessed Qiao Ling stabbed him. It would have been better than reliving this over and over and over again. The blood on his hands; the way Cheng Xiaoshi looked at him; the touch of his hand to Lu Guang’s cheek; the way the lie “it’s going to be okay” was coughed out of his mouth; everything; all of it.

           He awakes with a start. Having nightmares; having THAT nightmare, isn’t unusual. But awaking to Cheng Xiaoshi’s voice calling out to him concernedly is.

           “Lu Guang?” he whispers. “You were murmuring in your sleep,” he continues. Lu Guang takes a minute to regain his composure. He’s sweating and his heart is racing a mile a minute.

           “Did I wake you? Sorry,” he stammers out, his voice unsteady, and that’s when he notices his eyes are wet. Shit, was I crying too?

           “It’s cool.” Back to silence. Lu Guang thinks Cheng Xiaoshi must’ve fallen back asleep. He should try to do the same, but he knows better. Knows he won’t be falling asleep anytime soon, if at all.

           “Lu Guang?” he murmurs.

           “Yes?”

           “You were…” he begins, but then pauses, like he doesn’t want to say it. A breath in. Then: “You were calling out for me in your sleep.” Lu Guang feels heat rise to his face. Embarrassing. But also, he’s mad at himself that Cheng Xiaoshi must have heard him being so pathetic, so vulnerable.

           Normally he’d deny it. Laugh it off. Call Cheng Xiaoshi an egotistical idiot for thinking Lu Guang would be calling out his name in his sleep, of all people. But. But the memory of blood is so fresh in his mind, of Cheng Xiaoshi’s lifeless body, everything, it’s all…Shit, he’s crying again.

           It must not be as quiet as he thinks, either, because Cheng Xiaoshi exclaims, “Lu Guang!” Hold it in, Lu Guang commands himself. He hears the mattress below him shift as Cheng Xiaoshi gets out of bed.

           “Lu Guang, get down here,” he commands, and who is Lu Guang to say no? He gets up and climbs down the ladder. Upon seeing Cheng Xiaoshi standing there, Cheng Xiaoshi who had been dead in his dreams moments before, who had been dead in another reality before, he breaks down, crumbling to the floor. Ugly, loud sobs. He thinks Cheng Xiaoshi looks surprised, but it’s hard to tell through the tears. He feels, rather than sees, the warm embrace of his companion, and oh, that makes it worse.

           “Hey, hey! I’m right here, it’s okay, everything’s okay,” he soothes, stroking Lu Guang’s back. There’s something ironic about being held and comforted like this by Cheng Xiaoshi, but he’s in no state to make a snarky comment on it. Instead, he hugs back tighter, digging his fingers into the fabric of Cheng Xiaoshi’s shirt. It’s too tight, it must hurt, he should apologize, but the only sounds that can come out of his mouth are sobs; sobs that make him shake and struggle for air.

           “Shh, shh. It’s okay,” Cheng Xiaoshi repeats, and how wrong he is. Sure, it’s okay now, but it won’t be okay, at some point, not if he can’t change things, not if…more tears.

           Eventually he quiets down, and reluctantly pulls away. He sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

           “Better?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, his eyes full of concern, and something else Lu Guang can’t put a finger to. No, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. He weakly nods.

           “Do you wanna talk about it?” No, he thinks again, but he’s tired, and sad, and devastated, and exhausted, and…

           “You died,” he splutters out. Tears threaten to spill out again. “You died, and died again,” and now he’s lying— the dream was only one loop, not the reality he’s lived over and over, but he’s already talking, “and again, and I couldn’t save you. I tried, I tried, I tried, and I failed every time, and—”

           “Oh, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi breathes out, worry and concern lacing every syllable.

           “I just wanted to save you, that’s all I was trying to do,” he manages to get out. He looks up to Cheng Xiaoshi who is looking back at him, feeling helpless that he can’t make things better. Lu Guang breathes in. “Why can’t I save you?” he whispers, and shit, he’d screwed up, he should have said “Why couldn’t I save you?” This was supposed to be describing a dream, not the reality he’d lived over and over again, but it just slipped out. If Cheng Xiaoshi noticed, he doesn’t show it. He says nothing, but he grabs his hand.

           “Feel this?” he asks, and he does. He feels the warmth of Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand, of the hand he’s clapped and high-fived so many times before. The hand that’s punched him in anger, that’s gripped onto his shoulder as he cried. He feels the crevices in the skin, the nooks and crannies, the roughness that he’s offered skin cream to help with in the past. He feels his pulse thrumming through his wrist. Cheng Xiaoshi interlaces their fingers. “It’s me. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wrong. Lu Guang can’t bring himself to look at him. “Hey. I mean it,” Cheng Xiaoshi says firmly, and releases his hand, which makes Lu Guang immediately miss the warmth. He brings his hand up to Lu Guang’s face slowly, and gently wipes away his tears. This makes Lu Guang look at him, and oh, oh, he loves him, he loves him and he’s going to die and there’s nothing he can do—

           “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” he repeats. He’s a liar. He will go somewhere, but Lu Guang can’t tell him that. So he only nods, feebly. Cheng Xiaoshi moves to hug him once more, and Lu Guang melts into it. This will have to be enough, for now.

           Later, Lu Guang will have to go back to work. Back to work to figure out how to save Cheng Xiaoshi, how to protect moments like these, protect him.

           But for now he hugs Cheng Xiaoshi back, maybe a little too tightly, and lets himself calm down. The boy is alive, and safe, and here, with him. For now, in this moment, everything is okay.

           For now.

[hiemaldesirae]

Swap AU:

Vox's Goetia does join the Hazbin hotel. He takes what was Husk's canon job, as Husk has a casino to run and his parents think it's a good thing for their son to work for the Princess. (Even if they don't believe in her redemption plan. And he is the spare's spare, so it's not like they have any idea what to do with him. Having his and his children's souls permanently bound to the media overlord might do him some good. (Vox stipulated that into his contract. So he'll eventually have numerous goetia souls bound to him.)

Since Alastor was up to his antics during the overlord meeting and sir Pentious has been on his best behavior (after Charlie asked Vox to talk to Pentious about things, and Vox talked to him about building stuff in the lab outside the hotel he never got the Eggbois taken away) the hotel crew doesn't know how to hurt angels/heavenborn. They know Carmilla killed the Angel--Husk caught her reaction to Him bringing out the head, after all. (He also caught Alastor's reaction to Zestial saying that they'd probably go after the Hotel first--not that he'd tell Vox. But he'd seen how furious and fearful the stag had looked at those words.) So they're debating on who to send over to the carmine/Zestial mansion. It's dangerous ground over there, after all.

Angel Dust steals more of Vox's clothes (and doesn't get caught) to make up for the set Charlie destroyed. He also gets away with one of Vox's shark plushies, which irritates Vox as it's the one with heating pad function in it that he uses for his cramps/neck pain/back pain. (Alastor rubs his scent all over the plush, before he returns it that night laying it beside Vox.)

Vox writes an entire speech for Charlie and Vaggie for their meeting up in Heaven. He's listened to Vaggie (and Lucifer's) descriptions of Adam and Lute and has given his best advice to the two for them. Unfortunately the meeting pretty much goes the same way, except that Charlie managed to get Adam pissed at Vox? So that's cool. Nothing like having the first man wanting you dead, right?

Vox drinks himself into a stupor that night. While, yes he's afraid of Alastor--the MAIN THING he is desperately, desperately trying to avoid is permanently dying. He doesn't want to die. At all. That's why he too the deal with Lucifer. Now he's gotta figure out more ways to help Charlie so he can gain more power so he can fight off Adam himself? Or at least beat him back enough so that Lucifer can arrive to kill him or Charlie can kill him or something. He doesn't know. Vox collapses into his bed that night, and passes out not noticing the radio demon stepping out of the shadows and joining him in the bed and curling around him.

swap nonny i may have to rename you to sadist nonny at this point. Why are you like this /affectionate

the stuff with the goetia is sooo silly. love that little bird thing even though ive no clue what the hell he would look like or even do at all honestly! hope he has fun trying to bartend (and hoo boy thatd probably be a big scandal, wouldnt it, having a goetian prince bartend at princess charlie's hotel...) for a bunch of idiot sinners lmao

al overhearing carmilla and zestial talking about the newly pushed forward extermination and immediately jumping to think about vox... he cant lose him AGAIN so soon after hes found him once more so after that his shadow sticks even closer to vox, and vox finds that sometimes when he passes out from working too much without taking a break that he wakes up in the morning with a fluffy blanket and food placed in front of him. he assumes its husk but when he asks, the other overlord denies it

LMFAOOO i can imagine angel sweating when vox storms downstairs in a frenzy going 'where the FUCK is my shark'. husk turns to look at him very slowly and just raises a singular eyebrow at him and angel shrugs very slowly. alastor returning the plush with his scent all over.... orugh. vox probably cant even smell it really, but for some reason his processors ingest the scent easily and he falls asleep better than ever for the first time in seven years.... </3 AUgh my heart...

and seriously. alastor you are SUCH a freak what the FUCK are you doing.... going to have to tag noncon cuddling at one point on madmans vice istg :sob:. i love them so much ugrh. swap radiostatic save me swap radiostatic