#like if he was able to properly think it through and he really believed that the only two options were

[gliphyartfan]

Good morning, afternoon or evening.

I'm not usually one to ask for anything, you know that well, but today...

Today I woke up curious, and I came to ask, if you have, any headcannon of the other links. Sage/Tears,Calamity/soldier,Koridai, Courage, First and maybe also about Shadow...that art of Dree left me thirsty for Four emo.

*inhales*

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠)

—Double Anon

Alright alright! I hear you! Took forever to search for my old discussion about them

and at the end of the day, I just asked Yandy and Dree to hand in what we talked about. (Thank you my lovely dears, I always adore you~)

Anywho (sorry for it’s all over the place!)

So here are those headcanons!

- Courage was a street rat who earned a name for himself by using his street smarts to provide for himself. He was noticed by the royal family and initially hired to be a guard in the Castle. After learning Courage is the hero he left to travel and adventure.

- Korodai was similarly poor and orphaned but worked his way up through the Church of Hylia, not taking any serious vows but still training to be the Hyrulian equivalent of a monk who can kick ass(so like a knight for the church). He was still pretty goofy and silly though in spite of his intelligence.

- The people in the church learned he was the hero and sent him to the Royal Family where he continued his training. Korodai’s journey in “Faces of Evil” is his first official journey.

- Courage is incredibly strong, similar to Twilight except even moreso. People don’t really see this coming because of his lackadaisical and unserious nature, they don’t expect him to actually be that powerful.

- Because of his history on the streets, Courage never knew how to properly interact with nobility and royalty, which is how his “love-hate” relationship with Wisdom(his Zelda) started. He was attracted to her but she didn’t like how he had no manners and thus started the cycle.

- Both Korodai and Courage are exceptionally clever and resourceful.

(….And if one is around, so is the other. They are a duo! )

——-

Im sure Calamity/Soldier (I call him Cal) is very much the silent stalker yandere.

I feel like he can’t feel himself being able to fit in with the chain.

Because all of them are heroes, but the Master Sword doesnt even answer to him.

Or at least hasn’t said a word.

Basically all of these guys around him are accomplished but well, him? He’s not so special. The only way he knows how is to be darling's shadow.

And therefore follow them and around?

Maybe he’s learned some manners being the princess' guard, so he treats darling like royalty and their word is law hahaha.

———-

Sage? Overprotective to the max.

If Sage is Wild but hasn’t met darling until his third adventure, I think he would be very willing to see darling as a goddess easier.

In his eyes, she’d be unlike anyone he’s ever known. This reverence might show in small ways, he’s always gentle with her, speaks to her with the utmost respect, and sometimes catches himself just watching her in quiet awe, as if he can’t believe she’s real.

Cuz Darling would be like a breath of fresh air for him since everyone around him took advantage of him or only cared about him being the hero.

he’d also have possessive streak that he keeps under tight control, but any hint of jealousy unleashes it. If he sees someone getting too close to Darling, he’d be tempted to step in immediately, but hold back with a calm, collected demeanor.

His icy gaze speaks volumes though.

Darling is worth any sacrifice, and he makes it clear that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if it means his own life. (Though (y/n) is definitely working on fixing that mentality if she is aware of it.)

Her presence alone eases the burdens he’s carried for so long, helping him feel grounded and human in a way he hasn’t experienced in years.

After years of being questioned or pushed to his limits, Sage finally finds someone whose judgment he respects without question.

If she tells him to rest or take a step back, he listens, even if every fiber of his being wants to protect her.

Though, he’s the type to stay up until she falls asleep, keeping a silent watch over her to ensure nothing can disturb her rest.

———

First feels like the one who’s more jaded than Legend??? Kinda?

Because compared to Legend, First canonically points out how he’s only used for convenience when he’s really needed.

Hmmm...I personal always imagine First being very soft spoken (well, when he wasn't angered to the point of raising his voice)

Not super soft spoken, not like he’s a fragile person, but very calming to hear.

And he loves every part of her, even if it pains him to see her in any negative/unhappy state.

Would he want to show her the true depth of his loyalty and love? Absolutely.

But he'd also want her comforted and happy.

If she ever drifts off to sleep in his arms, he's whispering all his words to her. All the things he'd held back on saying when she was conscious.

They'd be intense, overwhelming, very very...well...Yandere. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If she heard it, she'd definitely be frightened by the weight behind it.

But he waits until she's deeply asleep to do so. Maybe a small part of his hoping a small part of her acknowledges his words, even if he'd rather her not be aware what atrocities he'd commit in order to protect her.

First may be jaded, but he keeps his darker thoughts deeply buried. He despises anyone who threatens her happiness, his face a mask of calm while his heart seethes with unspoken rage. (You know how everyone agrees Sky has a scary face when angered? That’s First, he rivals Sky with his scariness except it’s colder.)

Behind the scenes, he’d handle any threat swiftly, never letting it reach her attention.

———

Shadow. He gives me vibes where he likes to cause harm for the fun of it. He enjoys causing chaos and despair and taunts people.

But he also yearns for companionship.

Shadow gets an undeniable thrill from causing chaos. He knows how to push buttons and stoke insecurities, loving the reactions he pulls from people.

But he’d be surprisingly gentle around (y/n), changing his dark sense of humor just a bit to make her smile.

When (y/n) pays attention to someone else, Shadow sulks like a petulant child. He’s prone to shooting them glares, muttering under his breath, and might even playfully (or not so playfully) trip them up just to remind her where her focus should be.

Shadow has no filter around people he doesn’t like, especially if they’re close to (y/n). His sarcasm can cut like a knife, and he won’t hesitate to call them out in the most biting way possible if he senses even a hint of a threat.

Shadow has a talent for inconveniencing others while staying just on the edge of innocence with (y/n). It could be someone’s drink spilling, their cloak tripping them up (or down a flight of stairs), or anything that paints them as awkward or foolish in front of her. He finds it hilariously satisfying.

Shadow wants to be the only one who can make (y/n) laugh, surprise her, or put a smile on her face. If someone else manages to get a genuine laugh out of her, he sees it as a challenge, scheming immediately about how he’ll one up them next time.

He’s not above showing his irritation in front of her if she’s giving too much attention to someone else. A muttered, “What, are they that funny?” or a dramatic sigh as he stands just a little too close, casting glances that all but scream “notice me instead.”

Shadow’s affection for (y/n) is one of the only things that holds him back from outright causing harm.

[bonebabbles]

im curious, do you think there is any good way to portray a redemption by death? like, can a character truly be made a better person by dying? or is it just an all-around bad trope? i vaguely saw what the authors were trying to do with tom and sandgorse's situations, but they just sucked too bad and gave it the absolute wrong effect imo

I think there's a way to make anything work! So I won't say "NO NEVER." But personally, I have a big bone to pick with it so I avoid it

A redemption death doesn't give the character time to meaningfully change, imo, or truly make up for their actions. That all has to come before the death itself. And even the very idea of giving your life up to "redeem yourself" just... sits uncomfortably with me.

Dying never makes a person better. It just kills them. A person who's dead is not changing nor growing.

So Tom and Sandgorse... what their deaths are supposed to do is re-frame everything they did before that point. With no apology on Sandgorse's end for how badly he hurt his son or wasn't there for his mate, he was a good enough person to die for someone else and thus must be forgiven. Tom thrashes two women and they both die because of him, but he was still willing to heroically throw his life down for his child, and so he is 'worthy' of being avenged and honored.

No growth. No change. No acknowledgement. The death is supposed to add sympathy to them, while there's no actual reckoning of how they hurt their victims. Not even a real consequence. "Their intentions were good, and this is proven through the ultimate sacrifice." As if that changes anything. It doesn't.

I think if there's an decent example of a redemption death in warriors, it's Bluestar's. I still have problems with how it believes Stone and Misty have to "forgive her" for some reason, REALLY don't like the fact that this series has always equated redemption and forgiveness... but that aside? Just focusing on Firestar, ThunderClan, and Bluestar?

I think what makes the moment so strong is that it is a moment of clarity through her cruelty arc. We saw the heroic person she was at the start of TPB. We know that her actions are coming from anger, spite, and paranoia. That is never shown as a thing to be excused. But while she's wrapped up in her own misery, Fireheart is being the leader she isn't.

And her last life is a return to form, spending it the way she is supposed to, as a leader, and as his mentor.

Her arc could never be about 'growth' because... she WAS a great leader. She WAS selfless, long ago. Her redemption death is a return to that, and a plot necessity. Bluestar and Firestar cannot both exist.

But, anyway, it's generally a trope I'm not fond of. I think that nearly anything can work in the right context, but I think it's so situational that I personally avoid it when possible.

[kotaerukoto]

what soft romance cliché are you?

the almost kiss. you're unsure about things, always hesitating. why is that? maybe there's something to lose for you, but maybe (just maybe) the risk is worth it. you're the moment when the main characters lean in, lips parted and almost touching. but it's not the actual kiss everyone loves, it's the anticipation. when they look into each other's eyes before their lids flutter close. and there's a lot of frustration when things are interrupted. trust me though, you're a lot more memorable than the actual kiss. you're nervous, but at the end of the day all you want is to be loved.

tagged by: @zorkaya, thanks Ren!

tagging: *points at whoever is reading this* you

[httpiastri]

"lando."

there's no reaction the first time, so the next time, your voice is just a tad louder and you give his shoulder a slight shake.

"lando."

he turns around in bed but only lets out a humming sound in response, his head nuzzling into his pillow. his breath is slow and steady, and you can't really tell if he's actually awake yet. your next words definitely wake him up, though.

"she just kicked."

his eyes fly open instantly, looking at you almost in disbelief. "what?"

"i could feel it, it was so hard," you tell him with a nod. "she really did kick, i promise."

lando almost can't believe his ears. you'd both been waiting for this moment for so many weeks now – a baby's kicks are something every expecting parent eagerly anticipates, after all – and here you are, telling him it finally happened. your little one has been very inactive so far, with basically no movement or activity of any kind. but the doctors and midwives all told you it was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, so you haven't worried.

your little daughter may have been late to the party, but it doesn't matter to either of you – because here you are with a suddenly very much active and living baby in your stomach. suddenly, you have a confirmation that all of this is actually real.

lando lies frozen, so you reach over to grab one of his hands and place it on the side of your stomach, right where you felt the first kick. you're both silent in anticipation, as if your speaking would hinder him from feeling it properly. your eyes shut as you wish over and over that she'll kick again, just to prove that you didn't just imagine things, and just to prove that she's there and alive and well and-

lando's heart almost jumps out of his chest when he feels it. a kick. and quite the strong one, even. he feels his entire body softening as a giant smile reaches his lips. he leans forward slightly, head tilting down towards your bump. "hey there, baby," he starts. "daddy here." his palm strokes up and down your skin. "you're growing and moving already, huh? are you getting ready to come out here and meet us soon?"

as if she's been listening to his words, she answers his questions by kicking yet again. and again. and again. lando's eyes flicker between your face and the bump, mouth gaping wide. you both break out into giggles like a pair of teenagers, smiles so big your cheeks start to hurt. "i'd take that as a yes," you say, intertwining your fingers with his on your belly.

lando leans down to press a sweet kiss to the bump, imagining your little daughter feeling his adoration through your skin. if he could shower her with affection and love already, he would. but he'll just have to wait until she arrives, though every day that passes without him getting to hold her in his arms is unbearable.

"i don't think i'll be able to go back to sleep," you tell him after a few moments of silence. "i'm too eager to feel her kick more."

he nods agreeingly, the excitement inside of him too big to contain, too. now he leans in to kiss your cheek instead, giving your fingers a slight squeeze. "twenty more weeks," he whispers.

"twenty more weeks."

[erindrinkstea]

Please Please Please

Poly! Dark! 141 x Reader

TW: Dark Themes, Spicy Themes, Possessive Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Violence, Blood, Death

Description, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Note: Hey, I'm back to my usual postings!

For a moment, you swore that you could hear frantic voices from the back of your subconscious. You swore that those voices sounded a lot like your teammates in the 141.

But they couldn't be them. Not with the way they sounded so distraught, begging and crying for your life. You almost felt flattered.

"Lieutenant. Bullet. Birdie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I haven't been a good sargeant to you, a good friend and fuck- I've been a horrible person overall. Please. Let me correct my wrongs and stay alive."

"You're going to be alright, Bullet. I swear on it. You're not leaving us anytime soon, that's a promise."

"Don't die on us, Bullet."

"Fuck- lovie, I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have lost focus on the field. Please. Look, you can shoot me again in the throat if it'll make you feel better, just- make sure you'll make it out alive to do it, yeah?"

You laughed in the back of your mind. The last voice reminded you of your scottish sargeant, what a johnny thing to say.

"What a Bullet thing to do. Laughing even on the brink of desth."

You blinked at the new but familiar voice. "Cori?" Your old sargeant.

"I must be in hell if I'm seeing you." You joked and the sargeant, kicked at your head as you were lying on the ground.

Sitting up, you noticed that you were in a blank void. A white space with nothing but you and your sargeant, your old friend.

"Believe it or not, Cap and I made it heaven actually. Don't know how we were able to sneak in but surprise." Cori joked and you smiled softly at how easily you two eased into banter despite the long years.

"What are you doing joining us so soon by the way?" Cori crouched down, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. "Cap's gonna be angry if she hears about this."

You winced almost, "Can't you keep this a secret?" you pleaded. Soulmate or not- she'll find a way to kill you a second time if she finds out that you die so early. She always rained down hell whenever you were too reckless on certain missions.

"I don't know how you could keep your death a secret to another dead person, bullet. You're bound to meet sooner or later." Cori snickered.

"Ah fuck." You crossed your arms, preparing to face the wrath of your Captain. Only to find that your body was currently blinking, phasing in and out oddly. "What?"

"Oh." Cori looked surprised but pleased nonetheless. "Looks like you won't have to worry about facing Cap's wrath." He chuckles.

"They're really fighting to bring you back yknow." You didn't know who Cori was referring to. Who they are?

"Think your duty as Lieutenant is still far from over, Bullet." Cori pats your shoulder before you completely phased away from him.

The warmth on your shoulder was comforting even for a moment.

The panic was quick to run through their veins once they saw you go limp. They were assured you were not yet dead when they picked up a faint heartbeat.

A million thoughts ran through their heads as they rushed you to evac. Ghost yelling at Nik once they took their positions inside the helicopter. Price immediately contacting Laswell to prepare all the medics for your arrival. Soap holding onto one hand while Gaz held onto the other, both men pleading and talking to your unconscious form.

They usually wouldn't bother with your existence. They tolerated you as a teammate but refused to acknowledge you properly as their Lieutenant.

The 141 was a close pack, with loyalties that ran as deep as the ocean. So when they first met you, your bullet making a shot through Soap's throat. They were quick to build a resentment against you, quick to hold onto a grudge.

There were times where they felt warmth or awe at your small acts for them. With your little cooked meals, your aromatic teas, and your short notes. There were also scenarios where'd you'd stitch Ghost's balaclava when it rips or you'd patch Gaz up so gently when you're out in the field.

It was flattering to them but they always brushed off the butterflies, they'd shrug of the colorful fireworks. Refusing to acknowledge that they actually liked you because of a stupid grudge that you tried hard to make up for.

Now that stupid grudge might actually make them lose you. That drove them into a spiral- knowing that they might lose you and they haven't even done shit to make up for their mistakes.

"They're going to be fine. Bullet's strong. One of the damn best Lieutenants that I know." Gaz mumbled. He didn't know who he was trying to convince- Soap, him or maybe both of them.

"Please, Please. Make it out alive, birdie. Please."

[thatsdemko]

junipers dad- g.russell

pairings: George Russell x albon!fem!reader

fc: lyssieloooloo (from ig and TikTok)

requested: y - “What about something to do with all the pets the Albion’s have?? I think it would be super cute if George was trying to soft launch the relationship but because he’s such good friends with Alex people just assume that he’s hanging with the Albon family. And then it just culminates into either Albon!reader (or maybe Alex😂) just getting tried of George’s moping that his long planned out soft launch isn’t going to plan so they just decide to hard launch.”

a/n: a little something to lighten to mood xx— ps happy non-red bull podium!!

f1updates

liked by albon_pets, gr63updates, lilyandalexlover, & 6,794 others.

f1updates: it seems like George is hanging out with the Albon’s this weekend after Silverstone! he posted this cute picture of an albon cat ☺️

400 comments

f1lover22: I love that George and Alex hang out!

charleslechair: Alex and George two besties that can’t be separated

alblondo: is that y/n?! that’s so cute that George is friends with all of his sisters

princessgeorge: I’m also p sure that’s y/n’s cat juniper!

—

he sits cross legged in the chair, juniper sound asleep in his lap while he scrolls through Instagram for inspiration of his next launch. the last one was an ultimate fail considering half of formula one fans believed he was just hanging out with Alex. didn’t they know juniper was your cat?

“what’s got you so consumed online?” you peer over his shoulder, he’s searched high and low on the instagram tag ‘#softlaunch’ and it makes you giggle that he’s warped into introducing you properly to his instagram.

“why don’t you just post a picture of me and juniper? that way it looks more like you’re hanging out with me than with Alex.” you take the sleeping cat out of his lap, an alarmed grunt comes from her lips as you hold her in your arms for a picture.

“that outta do it right? Alex is nowhere to be seen.”

—

georgerussell63

liked by alexalbon, lilymhe, y/nalbon, & 77,931 others.

georgerussell63: spent some well needed time off

509 comments

albon_pets: 🐱❤️

maxverclerc: omg did George spend the weekend with the Albons?!

lewrussell: obsessed over that he and the albon siblings are friends

mercedesgeorge: everyday George proves more and more that he and Alex are still besties

—

“I don’t get it, why does everyone think we are friends?”

“well to be fair you did post a picture from junipers birthday party and everyone remembers that day.” you say it in a matter of fact tone that makes him groan as he scrolls through the comments.

albonlover: george was adopted by the albon family and I think that’s so cute

britcedes63: does he regularly hang out with them? I wouldn’t be surprised! he and Alex are really close

he shuts off his phone and watches you play with juniper. the fish on the stick being her worst enemy as she attempts to tackle it down in the air when a brilliant idea comes to his mind.

“why don’t you post me? that way everyone will be suspicious on who you’re dating!”

you roll your eyes playfully at his comment, but when you look over at him he’s handing you your phone to take a picture of him and juniper.

“if this will make you happy, then why not?”

—

f1gossiplover

liked by russbuss63, checorbr, yukisuzuka, & 7,250 others.

f1gossiplover: photo submitted by anonymous! y/n albon seems to have a new man who looks awfully similar to George?? what’s everyone’s thoughts!

300 comments

hamilton44: that’s not George that’s some imposter

gaslycharles: too short to be George

gr63babes: I know George and that’s not him

—

“what do they mean that’s not me?! that’s so clearly me in the picture.” he huffs in annoyance, phone balanced against his water bottle as he eats breakfast. the recent topic of your posts for each other is all he seems to be able to talk about, and you’d had enough. you’d really thought that semi hard launch would’ve been enough to make fans suspicious, but nobody budged.

you curse Alex for being such close friends to George, that way it was ten times harder for you to actually post the relationship like normal couples.

“why does it matter so much to you again?” you sit beside him, reaching over you take his phone and toss it into the empty chair beside you. he’d spent enough time on the device than paying attention to you.

“I just want to do it right. I don’t want to hard launch you and you realize it was too soon.”

you smile at his concerns and reach to grab his hand, “you’re too cute, Georgie, but truthfully I don’t care how you post me, but it seems to be upsetting you very much, so I have an idea.”

—

y/nalbon

liked by albon_pets, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, & 6,530 others.

y/nalbon: juniper enjoyed some sun with her dad @ Georgerussell63

300 comments

albon_pets: uncle George has been promoted!

georgerussell63: daddy loves you juni!

roscoelovescoco: playdate soon?

mercedesamgf1: petition for juniper to join us in the paddock?

williamsracing: not on our watch!

lewishamilton: where do I sign up to get me and Roscoe matching sweaters?

alexalbon: don’t hold your breath she’s still making George and me our matching jumpers

tags: (sorry to lazy to tag everyone just gonna tag a few) @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @oconso @motorsp0rt

[gotholdladywithadhd]

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

[cuubism]

a silly addendum to physical therapy au

--

"I do love you, but I admit I'm questioning your judgement in this moment," Dream says. "This wasn't what I was hoping for our evening."

Yeah, Hob may be a little bit impulsive when it comes to Dream. But he maintains that decking the guy who groped Dream in a crowded bar was, in fact, thought through. It was considered. Moreover, it was justified.

He kind of wishes it hadn't turned into an all-out brawl, but really that's the other guy's fault for not knowing when to back down. And even sitting gingerly on a bar stool with Dream holding towel-wrapped ice to his cheek, Hob can't bring himself to regret it. Dream might deny it until he dies, but Hob saw the glee that flashed across his face the moment Hob's fist connected with the man's nose.

"Whatever happened to not wanting to be violent in front of me?" Dream adds, raising an eyebrow.

"This is different," Hob says. "He was literally harassing you!"

"Hm." Dream presses the ice more firmly against his cheek. Hob winces. "It was very chivalrous, until you got your head smashed into a table. I believe your jaw may even be broken."

"Fuck," Hob swears, which only makes it hurt worse.

Dream's lips twitch up. "It was very chivalrous," he says. He pets Hob's un-bruised cheek. "I will think on it often when I am taking you to your doctor's appointments to fix it."

"Dream."

Dream kisses him on the side of his lip that's not split and bleeding. It still hurts a little, but Hob thinks it's worth it to mess up his jaw if Dream will tend to him like this and look at Hob like Hob is his hero.

He reconsiders that feeling later, when it turns out his jaw is actually broken, requires surgery, and a lot of rehab after that.

-

several weeks-to-months of jaw surgery recovery later, which we're skipping over as it was undoubtedly just completely shit

-

Hob is over the moon as they walk home from the clinic. There's really nothing like breaking your jaw to make you appreciate the little things. Like being able to open your mouth.

Dream, meanwhile, is trudging along beside him, holding Hob's hand but looking depressed about it.

"I'm the one who finally got wires out of my fucking jaw," Hob says, "why are you sulking about it?"

Dream continues pouting, but doesn't let go of Hob's hand. "They said you would still need to rest your jaw for a month."

"Yeah, so? At least I can eat food again. No offense but any more days of you diligently hand-feeding me broth was going to be the end of me." He pokes at his stomach, where there's substantially less flesh than before. "Besides, look at this."

Dream looks critically at his waistline. "Yes, your weight loss has been alarming to me. But I could not figure out any other ways to add calories to broth."

Hob wrinkles his nose at the reminder of Dream's attempts. "You did try."

"I tried," Dream sighs. "You still aren't allowed to eat normal food, though."

"They gave me back ice cream, I'll take the win."

Speaking of which, they should go get some food now. Hob thinks he might even be able to handle chips if he eats them slowly. Incredible.

"Hey," he adds, as they continue their walk, "at least I can kiss you properly again." He leans over to plant a quick kiss on Dream's lips, getting a smile in return. "And talk your ear off."

"I did miss your voice," Dream says. "And your kisses."

"Why are you sulking, then?"

A hint of embarrassment colors Dream's ears pink. "I had," he starts, sentences broken up, "Things. I was hoping you might be able to do again."

It takes Hob a second to realize what he means and then he doubles over laughing.

"Are you seriously," he wheezes, "are you seriously moping because I can't suck your dick?"

"You are rather good at it," Dream says, going truly red now, and Hob has to actually stop walking because he can't breathe for how hard he's laughing.

"I'm sorry the jaw surgery recovery is so disappointing to you," he says, sucking in air. "For the record I'd rather be blowing you than doing whatever they-- oh God, am I going to have to go to physical therapy now?"

It's a sobering thought. Dream's lips twitch. "Are you opposed to the profession?" he asks.

"I'll bear it for the sake of making you happy again," Hob says solemnly, and Dream plants his face in his palms.

Perhaps to distract from his own embarrassment, perhaps to distract Hob from his impending PT burden, Dream does end up buying Hob chips. As they eat Hob looks through the discharge paperwork he was given.

"They didn't technically say 'no oral sex'," he observes, and Dream nearly chokes on a chip.

"Do they think I'm not getting any?" Hob wonders aloud. "Is that why they didn't put it in? Just took one look at me and said 'yeah don't need to tell that one.' That hurts my feelings."

"No one would look at you and think that," Dream says.

Now Hob's the one who's choking. "Are you telling me I look like a whore?"

Dream appraises him with one eyebrow raised. "No one would look at you," he clarifies, "and think that no one would want to have sex with you."

"That might be your bias," Hob tells him, but takes his hand on the table and squeezes it fondly.

"I suppose I think about it a disproportionate amount," Dream concedes, and Hob laughs. "I think they left it out of the instructions because they assumed that if you were not allowed to even eat carrots, then not deepthroating my cock was implied."

"I'm not biting your cock, though," Hob argues.

"I would hope not."

"Okay, Doctor Dream," Hob gives in, "I'll be a good boy and not give you a blowjob."

Dream gives a long suffering and truly depressed sigh. "I will cope."

Instead, Hob kisses the back of his hand, which brings a smile back to his face. Dream pets his cheek, twists fingers into his hair fondly.

"Let us go home," he says. "I will make you dinner that is not solely composed of chips."

"Not soup," Hob begs.

"Not soup," Dream agrees, eyes sparkling.

--

Dream's not entirely wrong that sex was a little weird while Hob couldn't even open his mouth. Not that that stopped them from doing other things. He is looking forward to being able to properly kiss Dream again (and other things), though he's not as disappointed as Dream is about having 'rest his jaw' for a while longer. He's too busy being happy about being able to eat with a fork again instead of a straw.

It is fun to tease Dream about it, though. Really, Hob's the one who broke his jaw, and Dream thinks he's suffering?

"You are making fun of me," Dream says as Hob lies between his legs, cheek resting on the jut of his hipbone.

Hob kisses low on his belly. "Maybe."

"Hob."

"It's cute when you're horny." It had taken ages to get Dream comfortable enough to even voice his desires and Hob still feels his heart soar when he does now. Even if he can't fulfill them at the moment.

"Horny," Dream says, offended by the word choice.

"Admit it or do ten sets of physical therapy hand exercises."

"I can think of better things to do with my hands," Dream says, and Hob laughs.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Dream pets his cheek, runs his thumb over Hob's lower lip, dipping in to touch his tongue. "I am dearly sorry you injured yourself in my defense," he says.

"Would do it again," Hob says. "You didn't see your smile."

Dream smiles again now, charmed. "Perhaps you'd like a reward."

"Oh, I get a reward now? Instead of just flack for--"

Dream pushes him up and draws him close, kissing him fiercely. His fingers dig into Hob's hair, his tongue sweeps into Hob's mouth, he nips at Hob's bottom lip as he pulls away. God, Hob's missed kissing him like that.

"Next time I'll smash the other guy's head into a table first so he can't break my jaw," he promises. "Then I won't have to stop kissing you. Or other things."

"You learned nothing," Dream complains. But he's smiling, eyes sparkling.

"Maybe you'll have to teach me something new, then?"

Dream leans in to kiss him again. "Maybe I will."

[immortalmrwavell]

Adam and Mr Wavell

(Written for @transformee) (Original story posted September 27th 2021) This story has been significantly Updated!

It’d started like any other normal day for Adam. He got up out of bed. Got himself some breakfast. Headed out for work. The usual routine that he’d long since gotten used to. Being an engineer certainly wasn’t the worst job in the world. In fact Adam found it rather rewarding sometimes and the pay was decent enough. If anyone were to ask, Adam would say he was satisfied with his life. And that was half true. Sure he was content with the life he had now. He couldn’t exactly complain about having a stable job that allowed him to live somewhat comfortably. Yet despite that Adam always kinda wished his lifestyle was a tad bit… different.

Each and every day when Adam opened one of his social media’s, his feed would practically be flooded with men who were smoking hot and jacked as fuck. And most of these men pretty much got paid just for looking as incredible as they do. Whether that be as a personal trainer, model, an actor or even in porn! These men got paid to look sexy as fuck and show it off. It sounded like a dream!

In all honesty It was that sort of lifestyle Adam wished he would have strived for instead. He wasn't a bad looking dude by any means. He believed he was pretty handsome, just a little out of shape was all. Mostly due to how he was never able to really push himself into working out or dieting properly. And for the longest time Adam thought he was okay with that. Deep down however, part of him always wished he’d led the same lifestyle as those fit hunks he saw online.

Being in his thirties now Adam had started to believe that perhaps a lifestyle like that just wasn’t for him. Since then he’d tried to just make peace with the fact that he was just an average looking dude working a normal job. That was until he arrived home later that evening and everything changed.

Adam unlocked the front door before stepping into his home. Letting out a long sigh of relief as he closed it behind him.

“Home at last I see.”

Adam almost jumped out his skin as he whipped around to see a man sat in a chair across the room.

“W-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!?” Adam bellowed at the man in a panic. His brain was already cycling at a hundred miles a minute trying to think of the best course of action. Grab a weapon? Call the police? And yet while Adam was freaking out, the gentleman sitting in his house seemed completely unfazed.

With a smirk the man stood up from his seat, allowing Adam to get a better look at him. From what Adam could tell, the man looked to be in his early forties, late thirties at the youngest. He had short brown hair along with a nicely trimmed beard to match, the latter of which had a few flecks of silver running through it. As for his body, he looked to be just about 6 feet tall, if a tiny bit less. In terms of his build, the man seemed relatively lean with very little fat or muscle. As for his clothes, he wore a navy blue suit jacket over a white button up shirt along with a navy dotted tie. These were contrasted by a pair of tan khaki pants which were held firmly in place by a brown belt. Lastly his feet were clad in a fairly large pair of dark brown dress shoes along with a pair of black dress socks. An ordinary business casual look but this man seemed to be anything but ordinary.

(Original Version of Mr Wavell here)

“You don’t need to be afraid Adam. I’m here to help you.” The mysterious man claimed in a way that probably sounded more ominous than intended. Despite it he began to step towards Adam.

“N-no… how do you know my name? I don’t know you!” Adam panicked as he moved backwards to keep his distance until his back was against the front door. He was about to reach for the handle and run outside until suddenly… he felt calm? Safe even? It was as if all of his natural danger sense had turned themselves off in favor of wanting to trust the stranger before him.

“No you don’t know me. But I know you Adam. I’ve been watching you for a little while now. Looking into your mind. Reading your desires.” The suited stranger’s voice was oddly soothing, so much so that Adam hardly even noticed his eyes glowing deep purple for a moment. “You may refer to as Mr Wavell” He revealed, the very name sending shivers up Adam’s spine for reasons unknown. “And for what I’m doing here? Well… I’m just looking for entertainment I suppose.” Wavell shrugged nonchalantly.

He went on to explain that he had… abilities. Abilities that allowed him to do things thought to be impossible. Despite the inexplicable wave of calm and trust that’d washed him moments ago, Adam couldn’t bring his rational mind to believe the man. Afterall he was talking about having magical powers like some kind of wizard! But before Adam had a chance to protest, he found himself frozen in both wonder and fear as Mr Wavell began to float off the ground.

“I must reiterate that I’m here to help, not hurt you.” Wavell said, noting the bewildered look on Adam’s face. “I can give you any life that you desire. Allow you to become whoever you choose. What do you say?” He boldly claimed, floating down until he stood directly beside Adam, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Adam was still frozen stiff. Was he dreaming? Was this actually real??

“Oh come on. You know this is a privilege right? It’s not everyday that I actually reveal my physical self to the people I help.” Wavell said, leaning forwards with a small smirk. That of course only left more questions in Adam’s mind.

The mysterious man went on to explain in further detail what exactly he could do for Adam. He could alter reality to change Adam’s past choices in order to create a new and better present. He could transform Adam’s body right here on the spot into anything Adam desired. Muscle growth, increase of height, bigger dick? All things that Adam’s rational mind wouldn’t have believed to be possible had it not been for the obvious display of real magic he’d just witnessed. However there was one option that caught Adam’s ear. Stealing the life and body of someone else. As confused and scared as Adam was right now, he couldn’t help but be curious and even slightly aroused at the mere idea of it.

“O-okay…” Adam mumbled meekly. “I want your help…”

Wavell clapped his hands together with a large grin. “Perfect! Now there are many different ways I can do this.” He began, sounding almost a little too enthusiastic about it all. “I can switch your soul with another person. Your soul in their body and theirs in your body. I could transform you and this other person into one another. You transform into him and vice versa. You get it.” Wavell laid out the options as if he were about to have Adam choose one. “However I’ve already picked out another more interesting method for you. So all I want you to do is pick someone.”

Adam thought for a moment. If this was real then this could be one of the biggest decisions of his life. But surely there was some kind of monkey‘s paw right? “What’s the catch?” He asked, finally putting on a brave face.

The magical imbued stranger raised an eyebrow to Adam. “There isn’t one. You don’t owe me a thing. Honestly!” Wavell stepped back and put his hands up. “I’m doing this because I love it. It’s what I do. Hopefully once it’s all over you’ll enjoy it just as much as I.” Wavell lowered his hands before placing them on his hips. “Now. Is there anybody you have in mind who perhaps you’d like to become?”

Adam thought for a moment. He wasn't sure. This was just so surreal it made it hard to think. Like a fog clouding his thoughts. “I don’t… know?”

“Don’t worry. I get you’re probably still trying to wrap your mind around all this so I’ll do you a favor.” Wavell gently placed a hand on Adam's head and closed his eyes. Immediately Adam felt strange. As if he could feel this man’s fingers shuffling through his mind. Feeling out his wants and desires until Wavell got a decent idea of the kind of body to put Adam in. He took his hand away from Adam’s head. “I think I know just the guy but he’s not exactly close. He lives up in Virginia while you’re here in Georgia. How would you feel about a little change of scenery?”

“What do yo—“ before Adam could finish, the world around him spun and shifted.

———

Chris found himself standing alone in the locker room at his local gym. It was just about closing time now and he was the last guy remaining other than staff. He wiped away the sweat that’d been dripping down his face with a towel as he grabbed his stuff out of the locker. It’d been another tough workout for him today but it was always worth it to feel that pump and admire the physique he’d been able to build thanks to all his hard work. Unbeknownst to him however, a certain two individuals watched on behind a veil of magic that cloaked them both from sight..

Moments prior, Adam and Wavell arrived at the gym via the latter’s unique abilities. In a gust of purple smoke, Adam went from standing by his front door to now finding himself standing inside a gym locker room that didn’t seem at all familiar.

“H-H-Hoolyyy… FUCK! What just HAPPENED!?” Adam shouted hysterically.

“Basic teleport.” Wavell replied swiftly and bluntly as if that should’ve been common knowledge. “Don’t worry about that. Look.” Wavell nodded towards the entrance to the locker room, prompting Adam to look as well.

Mere seconds after, a sweaty muscular man wearing a tight tank top and shorts entered. He was in phenomenal shape. Far better than Adam was. Not only did he look sculpted with thick muscle from head to toe, but this hunk even had one of the most handsome faces to go along with it. Yet despite all the starring Adam and Wavell were doing, the jock seemed to pay no mind to either of them. Not even a glance. Like he didn’t even know they existed!

“I’ve made us invisible to him. He can neither see nor hear us.” Mr Wavell confirms to Adam. Right on cue this man they now seem to be spying on walked directly past them both without a clue. As he does Adam gets a good whiff of the stud's powerful post workout scent, turning the semi he got just from looking at the man into a full hard on. The pair continued to watch as the man opened up his locker and pulled out a towel to wipe himself down with.

“His name is Chris. He’s twenty eight years old and has been working out most of his life. Hence the gorgeous physique. And to top it off he’s quite the looker. Needless to say his body and looks have awarded him a lot. Modeling opportunities. A large following on social media. An army of men and women alike drooling over him and eager to throw money at him. He’s one lucky bastard.” The warlock explained, seeming to possess a bottomless well of knowledge. “I’d ask how you feel about him but I think I already know the answer.” Wavell sniggered as he glanced down at the bulge in Adams pants.

Adam’s face turned a bright shade of red as he tried to hide his growing arousal with little success. He couldn’t help it as his eyes traced over the glistening sweaty physique of the hunky god before him. Watching intently as the man removed his tank top to reveal the muscle that’d been hidden underneath.

“So… are you gonna turn me into… him?” Adam gulped, trying his best not to drool at the mere thought of it as he watched the man peel off the tank top. His cock getting even more excited at the reveal of Chris’ muscled upper body.

Wavell simply nodded.

“Does that mean you’re gonna turn him into me?” Adam wondered.

Wavell crossed his arms and hummed. “Not exactly. Normally I would but I’ve got something different in mind today.” Wavell confessed as the blank look on his face slowly turned to a sadistic looking grin that left Adam feeling a bit nervous for Chris’ fate. But the magical being was quick to notice this, his look softening again to one of reassurance. “And before you ask, no I’m not going to kill him or anything like that. He’ll be perfectly fine.”

Hearing that set Adam’s mind at ease. That said he was however rather curious to see what Wavell was planning. What exactly was he gonna do to this Chris guy?

It was then that Wavell’s eyes glowed that bright purple once more. At first Adam didn’t realise what Wavell had done until…

“Hey… Where the hell did you guys come from?” Chris asked as he turned to see two men staring at him from across the locker room. It was like they’d just appeared out of thin air.

Wavell stepped forward, straightening his tie as he did “Oh I just know you’re gonna enjoy this body Adam.” He declared, running his gaze up and down Chris’ body. Lingering on those enormous thighs and juicy pecs.

At this point Chris was getting super creeped out and understandably so. “What the fuck are talking about dude!? Are you trying to hit on me or something?” He questioned, quickly getting annoyed at how this dude was eyeing him up like a piece of meat.

It was then in the blink of an eye that Wavell stood inches away from Chris. It seeing a real life glitch as Wavell instantly moved from halfway across the room to his face being less than a ruler's length away from Chris. He barely had time to think let alone act before Wavell grabbed one of his boulder-like shoulders. Suddenly Chris was completely immobilised thanks to Wavell’s magic. And with that the aforementioned wizard slipped his other hand down in Chris’ gym shorts before cupping his crotch. Loving how Chris’ cock and balls pressed tightly against the pair of white compression shorts he wore underneath.

“Don’t worry big guy. I promise you won’t even feel a thing.” An ominously reassuring smile spread across Wavell’s face as his eyes glowed once more. It was then that a bright flash of light enveloped both him and Chris, forcing Adam to cover his eyes. It only lasted a couple of seconds but when the light dissipated, Chris was nowhere to be seen. The only things left of the hunk were his clothes as the gym shorts he’d been wearing fell to the floor atop of the now empty pair of socks and trainers. Meanwhile those white compression shorts Chris had been wearing were still in Wavell’s hand, the warlock holding them gently now as he inspected them for whatever reason.

Chris had no idea what just happened. That weird middle aged looking dude just grabbed him and now all of a sudden he felt so light and… hollow? The first thing he saw was the smirking face of that dude again only now it was from a lower angle, as if he were being held by the man and looked down upon. Yet as bizarre as that was, he couldn’t ignore the strong smell that seemed identical to his own crotch. Only now it surrounded him completely. Somehow Chris was able to shift his gaze in order to look down at himself and what he saw was unreal. Not just unreal, it was impossible and terrifying! No longer did he see the thick muscular body he was used to seeing. In fact he didn’t see a human body at all! He’d been turned into the very same pair of white compression shorts he’d been wearing! He could even feel the creepy dude’s hand against the fabric of the compression shorts as if it were his own skin! He wanted the scream in horror but nothing came out thanks to his lack of a face. It was only thanks to magic that he could still see and hear.

“This’ll do just fine.” Wavell said before turning to Adam who was still looking on in confusion. “I’ve trapped him inside these shorts he was wearing. I’ve made it so he can still see, hear, feel, taste and smell with his spiritual senses in there but besides that he’s completely helpless.” Wavell explained with a tad too much enjoyment. “Now all you’ve got to do is put him on and everything he had will become yours.”

Wavell instructed Adam to strip down. The latter hesitated for a moment but did but nervously did as he was asked. Afterwards not being able to help feeling a little embarrassed with how exposed he felt but Wavell didn’t seem to mind. The warlock handed the enchanted compression shorts over to Adam with a mischievous smile, clearly excited to see what was to come.

Chris was unsurprisingly freaking the fuck out as Adam took the shorts. Between what’s happened to him and hearing what Wavell had just said, he was having a complete meltdown. He didn’t want this Adam guy to take over his life!? Unfortunately his cries fell on deaf ears. He was powerless to stop it. Unable to do a single thing as Adam gently slipped his legs into the compression shorts one at a time before pulling them up. Chris protested all he could but it made no difference as Adam pulled Chris’ hollow fabric body over his ass and crotch.

As insane as this whole situation was, Adam couldn’t help shivering with delight. Knowing he was not only wearing compression shorts that belonged to such a hunk but also that same hunk was trapped inside them! He knew it was wrong and twisted of him to get satisfaction out of this but he couldn’t help it! Even though the shorts were a bit ill fitting on him, just having that jock’s musk surrounding his own crotch was turning him on like hell!

“So, how long will it ta-aaaakeeeuuuuaahhhhhhh” Adam’s question quickly devolved into a long groan thanks to an unfamiliar sensation that began racing through his body! Flooding every vein in his body with levels of magical energy his brain found difficult to comprehend. And then it began.

Before anything else the energy began to focus on Adam’s glutes. His groans became even louder as his ass cheeks started to tone and expand with muscle until it had ballooned into a thick muscle ass that filled out the backside of his new compression shorts perfectly. The feeling of which had Adam’s already hard cock leaking pre-cum that stained the front of said shorts. And yet despite it being at full mast, Adam could feel his cock somehow growing longer and fatter too! His bulge grew even more obvious by the second while his balls swelled larger as well to accommodate. His nuts now churned with the very same cum Chris once had.

Through all his groaning Adam was able to look down at his crotch and over his shoulder to see that he now had Chris’ cock and ass! And as his hips resized, the haunted compression shorts now fit him like a glove. Meanwhile Chris himself was soaring through a flurry of emotions as he begged to wake up from whatever nightmare he was trapped in. He could feel himself being stretched out across his out muscle butt while the taste of cum soaked into his fabric. Unfortunately for him, this was very very real.

From there the transformation continued to spread outwards and it progressed both up and down Adam’s body. His quads and hamstrings found themselves bulking up significantly, causing a soft grunt to escape Adam’s lips as he grew a set of meaty thunderous thighs. Simultaneously his eyes widened with disbelief as the fat on his belly started to melt away before his eyes, replacing itself with pure muscle mass in the form of strong thick abs. The kind Adam could’ve only dreamed of having. Every part of him wanted to stop and admire his new bulky thighs and abs but the transformation was far too impatient to give him the time.

Next up were his calves. He could feel them pulsing as they swelled with power to match his thighs. But they weren’t the real show. How could they be when Adam was far too absorbed into watching his flabby chest transform into a huge pair of pecs! It was something he’d always dreamed of. Being able to look down and see a hulking pair of muscle tits. And now it's finally becoming a reality! Adam’s eyes lit up with a mixture of joy and lust as he watched his chest begin to protrude outwards. His engorged cock growing more excited than ever as his pecs inflated into two gorgeous watermelons. He already wanted nothing more than to grope them and if he hadn’t felt the transformation beginning to surge through his arms, he would’ve.

But before his arms could have their glory, his shoulders exploded with mass first. Growing in an almost cartoony fashion as they transformed into cannonballs while his traps made sure to follow suit. With that, Adam’s biceps couldn’t wait any longer. He flexed them with a long moan as ballooned under the pressure, swelling to massive proportions with unthinkable strength. Soon after his forearms followed the same example as veins began popping like crazy across his bulging arms.

What came next however felt distinctly different from everything else. His hands and feet. They were a totally different experience but still painless nonetheless. His feet were the first to change. Increasing size after size at a rapid rate that certainly would’ve made his shoes feel tighter had he not taken them off. His hands weren’t far behind though as they too grew slightly. The more noticeable change however was how much rougher and calloused they became.

At last Adam’s body seemed complete but there was one last thing to change. As soon as the transformation had spread up his neck, causing it to thicken and his voice to deepen, his head was all that was left.

Adam gritted his teeth and scrunched his face as his features began to twist and alter themselves. Immediately he started to look younger than before as he regressed from his mid thirties back to his late twenties. His face quickly brgan taking on a much more jockish look as he started to look less and less like himself and more like Chris. To top it off his hair morphed into Chris’ messy brown style while his eyes shifted more towards Chris’ soft yet still masculine ones. Finishing things off by having Chris’ short brown beard sprout across Adam’s now much sharper jawline.

At last the intense sensation subsided. Adam was finally able to catch his breath as sweat dripped down his transformed physique. He looked down at himself in disbelief. It didn’t seem real but… he now owned the body of a total fucking hunk! He simply couldn’t help himself as he flexed his new massive guns, taking turns feeling them with each hand. Feeling the power flowing through his biceps as he flexed them was something else entirely. And of course he couldn’t ignore the huge new muscle titties that sat on his chest now. He was groping and flexing them too in no time. It’d be a crime not to worship them. With the excitement of it all, Adam also couldn’t help but dig his nose into his new sweaty pits to get a good whiff of that post workout scent he’d adopted from Chris.

“See. I always know what’s best for my clients.” Wavell sniggered. Adam was so enthralled by his new body that he’d almost forgotten Wavell was there.

��Clients?” Adam questioned, a little shocked by the sound of his new voice.

“Well… ‘clients’ sounds better than ‘subjects’.” The warlock admitted cheekily. “Now! I’m sure you’ve already got questions and I’m pretty certain I know the first one. Are you gonna turn back to normal if you take those compression shorts off? Well allow me to reassure you in saying no.” Wavell confirmed what Adam was bound to ask. “When I trapped Chris inside those shorts, I also sealed his physical essence inside them. Now that you’ve worn them however, that physical essence is inside you. Permanently. So you’ll never have to worry about losing your new body. By all means it belongs to you now. Besides… I’m sure you want to get a better look at what’s underneath.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows while glancing down at the obscene bulge in Adam’s shorts.

Adam turned and strutted over to one of the many locker room mirrors, cock bouncing awkwardly as he did. Immediately upon seeing his reflection Adam was awestruck. He was in love. With himself!! He just couldn’t help admiring his muscles some more before eventually grabbing the waistband and pulling down his haunted shorts. The real Chris screams in protest as he finds himself dropping to this imposter's ankles.

“Oh… Fuuuuuuuccck…” Adam muttered as his new cock flopped out before him in all its glory. His hand practically gravitated towards it before wrapping around the girthy shaft. God it was massive. He was almost afraid to start pumping it since after all that transforming, it felt like it was ready to blow at any second! The sensitivity on it was just through the roof! But Adam couldn’t help himself and ended up giving it a few tugs. In turn he found himself letting out a deep manly groan before, allowing the monster to buck involuntarily for a moment.

Before he ended up busting a nut, Adam’s decided he wanted to get a better look at his new glutes first as he turned his backside to the mirror. He just loved how big and bubbly his cheeks looked. When he flexed them they were as hard as steel but relaxed they felt squishy and jiggly. Part of him wished he could stuff his face into his own ass with how good it looked. That’s when another thought sprung to mind. Adam gently reached back towards his ass, squeezing it a little before slipping a finger between his cheeks as a way to test something. And it was just as he thought. The moment his finger came anywhere near his new asshole it immediately tightened on instinct. The reflex was so strong that it pretty much confirmed Chris used to be straight. Well not anymore. This ass was far too hot to go to waste.

As much as he wanted to tease his virgin ass a little more, Adam just couldn’t ignore his cock any longer. It was pulsing and begging for release at this point. He needed to grab it! He needed to jerk it! He needed to bust a fuckin nut bro! As Chris would say anyway. But before he could begin pumping, Wavell chirped up yet again.

“How about you let me take care of that for you. Just think of it as your way of thanking me.” Wavell licked his lips as sauntered over towards Adam before kneeling in front of that massive cock. Wavell opened his mouth before wrapping his lips around Adam’s meaty dick and began sucking like a pro.

“Oouh-ooooh… ooauhh… Oohhhhuuu!” Adam was completely taken aback as he was forced to let out disjointed moans once again. All the while his new voice echoed through the locker rooms. Just the view of being able to look down and now only see such a hot jock body as his own but also seeing this hot older man sucking him off was beyond sexy. Wavell swiftly bobbed his head up and down on the cock, somehow taking Adam’s entire length without even the slightest gag. Whoever the hell this Mr Wavell guy was, he certainly knew how to work those bearded lips of his around a huge cock. That’s for fucking for sure.

“Fuuuuuck!! I’m gonna… OOOAAUUHHH!!“ Adam Could feel it already. A tsunami of cum getting ready to spew from his dick. Before he’d even laughed Wavell was already grabbing onto Adam’s ass to make sure he didn’t try and pull away. But of course Adam had no plans on doing as his dick finally let loose torrents of hot cum that down Wavell’s throat. The older man gulped it all down greedily, sucking every last drop of cum out of Adam’s cock before finally pulling off it, a bit of cum dribbling down his beard.

“Ahhhhhhhh…” Wavell leaned back with a look of pure satisfaction crossing his face. “Now that was refreshing. I can confirm that your new cum tastes absolutely delicious.” Wavell confessed as he got back up onto his feet. He dusted himself off a little before readjusting his suit and tie. “Well it seems my work here is done. Chris’ memories should start to kick in for you in about 10 minutes from now. You’ll then know everything you need to know about his life. Where your new home is, how he earns money, what kinds of friends he keeps. And whatever else you need to play out his life as if it were your own.” Wavell looked down at the tight compression shorts Adam had begun pulling back up. “And the real Chris gets to watch everything from between your legs… or from the laundry basket.” He chuckled.

With that Wavell began to levitate off the ground once again. “I’m off to have some more fun. Enjoy that hunky new body of yours Adam. Or should I call you Chris? That is your new name now after all.” Mr Wavell grinned knowing just how much the real Chris was begging to be set free. “Keep your eyes open though. I might come back and visit you again some day just to check in.” And just like that the magical man seemingly disappeared into thin air, leaving Adam alone.

Finally alone at last, Adam looked down at the compression shorts that now cling tightly to his hulking body. “Enjoying yourself down there? Being pressed against your own dick and balls?” Adam teased somewhat cruelly, enjoying this a little more than he probably should be right now. Going as far as to reach down and grope his crotch to really rub the scent in.

This whole time Chris had been screaming and protesting as this body snatcher groped his body and even more so when he’d got his dick sucked by another dude! But now as the scent of his former cock and balls mixed with cum and sweat started to mess with Chris’ fragile mind, he was starting to give in at last. His thoughts grew foggier while his fabric body continued to absorb the powerful smell. He looked up only to see his own handsome face smirking down at him. No. It wasn’t his face anymore. There was no going back. Now he was nothing more than a pair of compression shorts for his master to wear.

Meanwhile Adam decided to open the bag that’d been in Chris’s locker only to pull out a pair of clean grey t-shirt and a cap. Without hesitation he slipped both of them on, loving how the large shirt hugged his muscular frame in all the right places. After which he grabbed and pulled on the black gym shorts Chris had been wearing earlier before tugging on Chris’ gym socks and trainers. All of it fitting him like a glove. At last turning to the trusty mirror once again, he couldn’t help but whistle at how fucking sexy he looked! So much so that he started turning to inspect his body for all different angles. God he just couldn’t get enough of those bulky legs. As much as he adored his arms and pecs, he was starting to think his legs may actually be his best asset afterall.

He couldn’t help grabbing Chris’ phone and taking a few quick photos of himself to savour the moment. Pictures he’d surely look back on in the future to remember the day when he stole this body. And to jerk off too of course. Maybe he’d even post them to one of his new socials later.

Now all he had to do was wait for these memories to kick in. That Mr Wavell dude said they were gonna come any second and when they did Adam was truly going to become Chris inside and out. And once he’d settled into his new life he was gonna see if he could find some dudes eager to fuck his muscle ass get railed by his enormous new cock. With a body like this he was bound to have stamina for hours.

Then it hit him. All at once. Adam let out a thunderous roar as his mind flooded with memories from Chris’ life. Most of them being delegated to the back of his consciousness to pull on when needed while others came straight to the forefront. Immediately he knew everything there was to know about Chris. He even felt some of Chris’ personality traits starting to take root. That cocky gym bro attitude was starting to settle in comfortably. He might’ve still remembered everything from when he was Adam, but that wasn’t who he was anymore. That was a mere shell that the real him had finally emerged from.

Chris strode confidently out of the Gym and towards his car. He just couldn’t wait to get home so he could strip down and take as many nudes as possible of himself. His new life was about to be absolutely incredible.

[moondirti]

Who from the 141 speaks the best arabic do you think? From one arab girl to another, it’d be so hot if any of them were fluent 🫠

if my memory serves me correctly, we get a bit in the first campaign from price. to me it seems to be a basic knowledge. a few sentences he picked up on the field and memorised to make his job easier. evac orders, cardinal directions, how to ask for water, food, medicine. that kind of stuff. pure utility, though that’s his approach to most things.

i like to believe (call it bias or whatever) that gaz is fluent. this ties in to my headcanon that he’s the only member who attended and graduated uni, but he strikes me as someone intensely curious about everything. introducing him to something, be it language or cuisine or a skill he hasn’t mastered yet, is like knocking down the floodgates. it’s his time in urzikstan that does it. hearing the way it rolls off farah’s tongue (let’s ignore doumit’s canon pronunciations), or how she’s able to translate a long, winding, clumsy sentence to something short. beautiful.

there’s a word for everything, he finds. one for the state of gossiping with your friends over morning coffee. one to congratulate someone on their cleanliness after a haircut. one that means may you be the one to bury me, for it would be unbearable to live without you – that is used so casually in conversation, kyle is stunned when he learns the true meaning. it doesn’t hold the same expectation, the same trepidation, as it does in english, though it retains its weight all the same. he wonders what makes a language so special that its intrinsic devotion has found a common place within its cultures, and he sets to find out.

this turns into a thing. more rambling under the cut.

the largest learning curve is the alphabet. the sounds that don’t exist in his mother tongue. he’s especially hard on himself when it comes to enunciating them properly – half the beauty is in the way words flow together, and there would really be no point in indulging in arabic’s more lyrical aspects if he’s off pitch. he gets the hang of it eventually, of course, one too many vocal exercises later.

the weathered dictionary he picks up at a second hand store teaches him that most words have three letter roots, and that it isn’t so easy as to look them up alphabetically. picking up new vocab becomes infinitesimally harder, then. for twelve million choices, the distinction between some words comes down to diacritical marks. necklace, decade, contract, held, complicated, and knots are all spelt the same way, yet pronounced ever so slightly different — a fact he learns the hard way when he tells the cashier at the kibbeh place he frequents that he likes her decade.

reading. reading is what helps him get over that.

(he probably should touch on basic grammar first — nouns, verbs, particles, sentence structure, that sort of stuff — but figures he'll pick it up as he goes, basing his methodology on an inability to remember any rules for the english language. he grew up hearing it, reading it, watching it, surrounded by it, so it just is what it is now. why work so hard on task books made for kids, then, when he can just get right into the meat of the matter? acclimatise through force.)

he picks up stacks of books upon books upon poetry. naguib mahfouz. ghada al-samman. al-mutanabbi. mahmoud darwish. it takes him a month to get through the first, and another month for the second. which only means he really takes his time with them, roving over the same line until it's etched into his memory. the cadence, the beats for pause, the way a word he has to punch from his throat is followed by one that lilts, all sing-songy. eventually, he starts to (inadvertently) mimic that sweeping manner of speech, employing it in contexts which certainly don't call for it.

the cashier — the very same one whose age he mistakenly stressed, despite the fact that she couldn't have been much younger than him — is far too nice to say anything about it, smiling instead, endeared, while he waxes poetic about meze.

farah calls him out immediately the next time they catch up.

apparently, no one speaks in classical arabic anymore, go figure. it would be like talking in shakespearean english, she tells him. he imagines it, iambic pentameter and all, and cringes, newly determined. his own research unearths (though it wasn't really a secret) the fact that there are roughly 25 different dialects belonging to different regions — and while some are pretty similar (syrian and lebanese), others could classify as a whole other language on their own (moroccan).

reddit tells him what he already knows; that the best way to learn is through exposure. there are no dictionaries for patois. and farah, despite her total enthusiasm at his interest, is far too busy of a woman to help.

(really, it just gives him an excuse to finally do what he's been meaning to.)

the next time he's craving kibbeh, he's fixed on not making a fool of himself when he asks the cashier out to lunch.

[minhyungsluvr]

MARK + 00' LINE | FIGHTS WITH THEM

a/n: would you believe this has been in the drafts for a year now!!! The dialogue kicked my ass, but alas I prevailed

MARK: NOT TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF

He had texted you, saying it was another late practice. For the past week he had left earlier in the morning, and came back late at night barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to slip into bed beside you. You had brought it up before, or tried to, and he brushed you off. Saying it was apart of his job, he doesn't need a break, he feels fine. You not even sure if he's eating properly. The final straw was when he came home late again, this time you were away waiting on him. Like clock work, he comes through the door sluggishly. Movements slow, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. It almost pained you to bring it up now when the last thing he probably wanted was to hear you fuss over him again. But if you didn't bring it up now, then would you be able to again. "Mark, this really isn't healthy. You're not sleeping, I'm not sure your even eating meals. I'm sure you can afford a couple of days to relax." You spoke softly, hoping that keeping your voice soft would slim the chances of a fight starting. That didn't work. "Baby..." he started with a sigh. " I really don't want get into this tonight, I'm tired" he said as he walked past you to get to the bedroom. You followed him, still trying to make your point. "I'm not trying to nag or anything, but I just want you to start taking better care of yourself". He's still not listening to you, he to busy chaning into his pajamas. "Are you listening to me", you ask, now feeling frustrated. "I am, and I mean it when I say I'm fine. So can you please drop it so we cam go sleep." He turns to you as he speaks, waiting for you to say something else before moving. You nod once, "okay, fine." You slip under the covers, back towards him, you don't say goodnight and neither does he.

RENJUN: NOT WANTING TO MEET YOUR FRIENDS

Renjun was your first serious relationship, and you had hoped he'd be your last. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was caring, you had similar interests, and be made time for you despite his busy schedule. You've met a lot of the members of his group, you loved their dynamic. The way they were like family, how they were able to joke with each other like brothers. Your relationship was moving beautifully, until you invited him to brunch with some of your friends. When you asked, he Immediately froze up. Stumbling over his words to give you a quick, barely thought out excuse of why he would be busy during that time. You asked him again a week later, this time it was bowling. And again, he suddenly had to go do something with his members that he just thought about. It had been a month of bad excuses and dodging ever attempt at trying to meet your friends. They were starting to think you were making it up. It came to the point where you had to confront his about it. On a day where he was most definitely not bust you asked him again, "do you want to come with me a few friends for lunch"? You could feel him tense from his position on you as you both were stretched across the couch. "Ummm....." he started, beginning to sit up. "Why don't you want to meet my friends? I've met yours, and it was a lot of them." You spoke, exasperated. He starts looked around, like he's trying to find another excuse. "Stop" You saying, now also sitting up, "be honest with me Renjun. Why do you keep lying?" He hears your voice wobble, see your eyes get glossy. "I just don't understand, I've told how important my friends are to me and you won't even try to meet them." He's quick to console you as a tesr finally makes its way down your cheek. "It's not that I don't want to, I'm just nervous. I know how much they mean to you, and-" You cut him off, " I really like Renjun, and for us to get build our relationship your going to have to meet the important people in my life like I've met yours." You had taken his hand in yours, giving reassuring squeezes every now and then as he let your words sink in.

HEACHAN: DOESN'T TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY

This problem has been festering for a minute, and it’s probably your fault the situation is as big as it is. You should’ve brought it up when it was only a small issue, not when you came home from work later than usual with an attitude because your boss is a jerk. All you wanted was to come home to a clean and quiet home, instead you walk through the door to hear your boyfriend yelling through from the bedroom. All the dirty dishes were piled up in the sink, including the ones from the morning that you asked him to clean before you got home. When you walked in the room to ask him about the mess that was your kitchen, you didn’t want it to turn into a fight. It started with you asking him why he didn’t wash the dishes like you asked, especially since he was home all day. Then it ended with you accusing him of never taking you seriously. “What do you mean I don’t take you seriously?” he asked, no longer shouting. “I mean exactly what I said, you don’t take me seriously. When I tell you something you only joke about it.” The frustration was on your face and his as you started listing instances where he turned what you were feeling or what you said into a joke. Hot tears welled up in your eyes as you kept talking, anger building up from the long day you had and the argument you were having with Haechan. Seeing your face, how tired you looked, he calmed down. “Gorgeous, why have you never brought this up earlier?” You shrugged,feeling all the fight leave at his quiet tone. "Look, I promise to start listening better if start telling me how your feeling before it blows up." He stands in front of you, head tilting down to meet your teary eyes. He's only given a single nod, but the small, barely there smile on your face tells him everything will be alright.

JENO: FORGETTING IMPORTANT DATES

It's embarrassing, humiliating! You sit alone, at a table for two, in a restaurant with fancy lights, all by yourself. Looks of pity are being thrown from across the restaurant as you check the time of your phone for the fourt time that minute. Nope, still no text from Jeno. No text saying he's late, no text telling you why he hadn't shown up yet, not even a text to cancel. You could feel your face heat up as other couples walked past to get to their tables. Finally you gave up, you've waited thirty minutes too long. Walking out the restaurant, you call him, eager to see what held him up. "Hello" he answers on the first ring, "y/n..... are you there"? You had froze, he didn't show up to dinner because he was sleep! Not because he was in some life threatening situation. After the last time he had missed a date, he promised that he wouldn't miss another. Or at the very least let you know ahead of time why he couldn't come. You held the phone for another second before answering. "Did you forget about out plans" you ask. You hear him cuss quietly on the phone, before there is a rustling sound. Probably him fighting with his sheets to get out the bed. "I'm so sorry", he starts, "tell me where you are and I'll meet you there, ok sweetheart." He throws the pet name on at the end, knowing what it does to you. But it doesn't have the same effect this time. "Don't worry about it Jeno, I'm going home." You hung up before he was able to answer. He wasted no time calling you back while getting dressed, each called went ignored and only fueled him to move faster to meet you. By the time he showed up at your door, all his calls and texts still went unanswered. He could only hope you'd answer the door so he could try and make it right.

JAEMIN: NOT MAKING TIME FOR YOU

Of course you knew how busy he was before you even started dating. But if he was able to make time for you when you were just friends, you assumed that wouldn't change when he became your boyfriend. You'd spend weekends together watching romcoms, going out to eat, and now your lucky if you see him at least once a month. At first you blamed it on comeback season. Then of course there was the tour. But now he was back, and the most he done is respond to your texts telling you he's made it back home, or to laugh at a meme you've sent. You'd ask if he was free one day to come over, to hang out, he says he can't because he's playing games with Jeno. A new movie with your favorite actress just came out, and he can't see it with you because he's already getting lunch with the members. This goes on for a while, you trying to set dates up and him declining because he already has plans. You and your relationship have been pushed aside for a while, and you were sick of it. You called him on night, to ask him when he'd be free next. "I'm not really sure, I was going to spend some time just relaxing." Normally, he would've invited you over, but your not sure whats going on with him now. "Jaemin, are you tired of me?" He makes a noise of surprise over the phone, "What makes you say that, you know I'm crazy about you". You sigh, "It's like you don't want to be around me anymore. You're always busy, but not to busy for everyone else." It's a hot minute before he answers, "I didn't realize I was making you feel like that, I didn't even realize I was pulling away from you". "I understand that your busy, but I don't know...." you trail off. "No, I get it, I do. And I'm sorry", he says, "I just need to find balance is all. But don't think you're not important to me". His reassuring words bring a smile back to your face, "so are you going to be free soon" you ask hoping his answer would be different from earlier.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

When They Know They're In Love ~ Vagastrom Edition

I will be doing the other houses and will link them here once they're posted (Frostheim is already done). I hope you like this and if you did, please feel free to send in requests for what you'd like to see.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Alan Mido, Leo Kurosagi, Sho Haizono x gn! Reader

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do the characters know they're in love and what will they do when they realise?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, Alan knows what his feelings towards you are. He just refuses to believe them. He’s hurt too many people before and can’t bring himself to put you through that as well.

I think Alan’s feelings would creep up on him slowly but he really feels it when your life is in danger on the first mission the two of you went on.

He saw you in the clutches of the streamer’s ghost and fear and fury burst inside him.

He’s going to barricade himself in his room for a while after that, refusing to see anyone while he works through his feelings and what he should do. But not seeing you hurts him more than his fear of causing you pain.

Eventually, he’ll realise his absence is hurting you as much as it’s hurting him and will come to terms with the fact that he’s got to make things right by telling you how he’s feeling.

“This guy? In love? Yeah, right. With himself maybe.” That’s what Leo’s telling himself in his mirror during his daily affirmations.

He had a plan. Get close to the (admittedly attractive) NPC and show you off on social media for clout and to stir up drama.

Then, just as you were starting to develop real feelings towards him, break off any hope and cut all connection to you.

And then he just had to go and catch feelings when you kept acting so kind towards him. It’s not his fault he was so good at acting you thought he was being genuine. And now, it’s not an act anymore.

Leo’s going to be in denial for a long time but when he does finally realise he wants to be in a relationship with you, he’ll have to come clean. Let’s hope you forgive him.

Sho has a complex relationship with you already. He nearly got you killed because of Leo’s stupid plan. And you’re so supportive of his food truck, something no one else has shown him.

He's just started considering you a real friend when something in his feelings has changed.

So when he realises the sinking feeling in his chest is because you didn’t visit the food truck today and because he really did want to see you, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

He won’t outright tell you his feelings at first but I think he would get a bit more flustered around you, gifting you more handmade snacks and meals out of the usual schedule the two of you have.

He’s got to try and be subtle though. The last thing he wants is for anyone (Leo) to find out before he gets to chance to confess his love to you properly.

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[catcze]

The edge of Wriothesley’s desk digs into the small of your back, the hard wood undoubtedly leaving an indent in your skin from how you’ve leaned on it. Any other time you’d frown and huff, but it was difficult to properly gripe about it right now.

“Your grace.”

“Yes?” The Duke murmurs damn near right into your ear, almost low enough to be a purr. With how close he is —how his face hovers over your and his hands rest on either side of your waist, bracketing you in— you can almost hear the rumble of the word come straight from his chest.

You can leave this proximity easily— you know this, and so does he. But for some outlandish reason, you find yourself inclined to rest here, surrounded by him, the desk at your back be damned.

“Your grace,” you try again, voice soft to match his. “What are you doing?”

It’s odd to see the normally eloquent man, who never stutters in his words or backtrack in his thoughts, to be so quieted— almost struggling with finding the right words.

“I don’t know,” Wriothesley settles on finally, a furrow in his brow. “I… don’t know. Something I should have done sooner, probably. This… thing between us has been driving me mad. I feel like I’d regret it if I hesitated any longer, you know?”

And oh, you do. The unspoken tension that hangs in the air when it’s just you two in his office, when you have lunch, or spend time together— you feel like it’s been clogging your airways and making it hard to breath. Each day with you both toeing the line of the meaning of all those longing glances and soft smiles had been wearing on you. What a relief to know that you’re not alone in your struggles.

You hum, leaning forward just enough so your nose brushes his. With a thrill in your stomach, you don’t miss how he swallows heavily, how he blushes just the tiniest bit.

“If you’ve grown tired of our song and dance, then pray tell— what do you want to do instead?”

“Whatever you want,” is his immediate answer. There’s a growing confidence in his eyes, a hope that flickers brighter and brighter with each second you let him be near you like this. “Whatever you’re willing to give me. Whether that be just a single kiss and nothing more, or being able to wake up beside you and kiss you good morning until you get sick of me.” Then he swallows, his words coming out slower. “But if you push me away and you say none of this meant anything, that’s fine too. Like I said— whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take without complaint.” But I really, really hope that you don’t choose that last one. I think my heart would actually break.

You can see how Wriothesley grows more tense with each second of your silence. He tries to cover it up well, but you know his tells. He glances away, the flush on his cheeks traveling up to the tips of his ears, making him look cuter than you ever thought was possible.

A soft hand on his cheek is all it takes to snap his attention back to you.

“Morning kisses don’t sound too bad,” you tell him slowly, wanting him to hear every word. You think you can feel your heart in your throat. “Though I have to ask: is breakfast gonna be included in this deal? Because a hard ‘no’ to that is an absolute dealbreaker for me.”

And when Wriothesley grins, when he has to fight the laugh that begs to be let loose from his chest and the minute tremble that rakes through his whole body, you think you’ve never seen him more radiant. You wish to see that kind of softness on him every single day. Oh, you’re so damn smitten with his man.

“You’re gonna have to settle with my shitty cooking, but I can at least promise that I’ll try.” The look in his eyes is gooey and warm and sweet— the flavor of melted chocolate and honey.

You wrap your arms around his neck, slinging them over his shoulders, and rewardingly scratching the nape of his neck when his arms come to wrap around and press you to his chest in turn. “Sounds delightful,” you say, and his heart does a flip in his chest. Can scarcely believe that this is real.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asks softly. “I’ve been wanting to do it for the longest time.”

You hum, looking at him from beneath your lashes. “Go right ahead, your grace.”

His thumb presses gently against the plush of your bottom lip, the edges of his restraint visibly fraying. “My name, please. If I’m going to kiss you, I’d rather have my name on your lips, not my title.”

“Wriothesley, I’m waiting for that kiss.”

You have just a split second to register the absolutely lovesick look on his face at the sound of you saying his name, the way he melts and shakes against you. How he looks at you so softly it almost makes you choke up. Wriothesley presses his lips against yours, painstakingly gentle as he moves against you, in a kiss much too long overdue— the first in a series of many that he’s all too happy to give you.

[nyarumie]

hey axia ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

enjoy the start of your semester, before uni gets crazy!! I loved your previous works, so I'll just slip into your inbox while the requests are open:3

What do you think would make Hoshina blush, or like, properly flustered?!

(be it headcanon, scenario, or whatever else you feel like, if anything:))

have a great day 🔆

Heart in Your Hands

hoshina soshiro x reader — fluff, comfort, they're both deeply in love, (god me when), short and sweet, established relationship

Author's Reply: Hi, thank you anon! I hope this work caters well to your request; finally got the time to work on something (which hopefully helps with my writer's block)

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Please view my pinned and masterlist too (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Trying to get Soshiro to blush is definitely rarer than a blue moon. Trust me, even his own platoon of talented rookies tried catching him off-guard — it's just near impossible!

Keyword: Near impossible. That's where you enter the picture.

As a Platoon Leader, you do your best to be a figure of inspiration to your officers, thus keeping up your facade of a strict mentor; but honestly—you’re not fooling anyone, you're totally a softie! Despite your personal ‘no-distractions-during-work’ policy, obvious signs of your feelings for the Vice Captain naturally slip out occasionally. Still, you refuse to get your relationship in the way of your work.

Behind closed doors lie the reserved intimacy and affection you held for him. He won't ever admit it, but he sometimes pushes himself too hard, hard enough to have scars and calluses all over his hands from his intense training, and you can only imagine how tight and desperate his grip is on his personalized close combat weapon.

He’s always desperate to prove his worth, desperate to keep the only thing that gives meaning to his existence, and you know that your words are not enough to quell the distress behind each swing and slash of his blades.

That's why you do what you know will calm him best—love him just as fierce as he swings those blades of his.

You caught him training again one night, exhaustion evident on his form. The adrenaline coursing through his body has yet to be quenched, and you know you have to do your magic to get him to rest.

“Soshiro. You're here again. One more night of this and you’ll really strain your body.” you softly said, concern evident in your voice.

He stopped midway his slash, breath heaving as he turned to face you. “Can't rest easy when the rookie officers are a whole ‘nother level, dear. If I don't do this, I doubt I’ll be able to get even the slightest hit on No. 9.”

Sighing, you made your way to him. “Put your weapon down for a while, please? Let me at least do something for you.”

Doing as you asked, he kept them somewhere safe and curiously stood in front of you again. He gave you an inquisitive look, patiently waiting for what you're planning to do.

You took his hands and caressed them, slowly feeling the roughness and evidence of all the nights he's spent bruising himself up just to get even stronger. You move his hands so that his palms are facing you, his eyes widening at your next move.

He felt a soft, careful kiss touch each of his palms, followed by a kiss to each of his fingertips.

He thinks his ears are on fire with how hot it's burning.

“W-what are ya doing, dear? I haven't cleaned my hands up!”

You entwined your hands with his before he could even pull them away, thinking that he didn't like what you just did. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomf— Oh.”

Oh, indeed. The sight that greeted you when you turned your face up to see him is… remarkable. You can't believe the Third Division’s Vice Captain would be blushing over his significant other tenderly kissing his rough, tired hands.

“Ya didn't have to do that… I know you love me plenty! And please stop gripping on my hands harder, ya aren't letting me turn away!”

You snort. “Of course I won't let you. This is a rare sight. Still, I didn't know something like that could get you severely flustered.” you said, a hint of pride in your tone.

“Told ya I haven't cleaned ‘em up. I was holdin’ those nasty blades moments ago.”

“Ah, excuses. Just say you liked the kisses more than you expected. I’ll let you off this one time and say it's just out of exhaustion.” you giggled.

Your expression turned soft and serious again, now hugging him. His arms wrapped around you, a tired sigh coming from him. “You do so much for me, ya know that? I thought I was gonna explode earlier. Don't know what I did to deserve ya.”

“Mhm, ‘Shiro. You have no idea how at a loss I am sometimes to do something for you. I want to shoulder at least a piece of your burden, want you to share your pain with me without worrying about whether I can take it. Because I will, just for you. I’ll hold your hand whatever happens and stand side by side with you. All I ask is that you take care of yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh of relief. “I should be sayin’ these things to you. I hope ya know how amazing you are to me.”

You both pulled away from the hug, him taking a hand of yours in his. “Let's get some rest. Don't wanna worry my princess over here.”

Smiling in content, you nod your head at him. “Thank you, Soshiro.”

[zara-renata]

No way out, revised

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan. Summary: Sylus shows up injured near MC's place, MC tends to his injuries, and he takes advantage of the situation like a vampire and secures himself an open invitation into MC's home whenever he 'needs' it.

Reader POV, Second person POV, gender neutral reader CWs: blood, injury, Sylus is hurt and bleeds a lot, foul language, cursing, MC has a dangerously messy apartment and how do you live like this??, Sylus is manipulative (just a little) to get what he wants. I see a lot of people putting minors do not interact and 18+ and whatnot warnings on their fics. Anything I write isn't intended for children, but I'm not your mom, read what you want. SFW in terms of sex, except for MC's barely contained thotiness in the face of Sylus's scent and sharp teeth

ao3 link here

You can’t bring yourself to apologize to Sylus, properly. With words. After everything that happened when you first met him. First, because part of you feels like words will never be sufficient to make up for how gravely unfair it had been for you to blame him for … well. For everything. To the point of actually wanting to kill him. And another part of you thinks that if you ever do say the words out loud, and admit how terribly wrong you were about him, that the smug look on his face as a result would make you want to kill him all over again.

No, no, better not to risk it. Even when you try, the words just won’t choke their way out of your throat. So you resolve yourself to show him in other ways, with action. And though you don’t know him very well yet, you’re pretty sure that Sylus is the kind of man that appreciates action far more than pretty words (later, you will learn how wrong you are. Sylus is the decadent embodiment of “Why not both?”).

After you left the N109 zone, you didn’t expect to see him anytime soon, so you have no idea when you’ll be able to wipe the ledger clean on what you owe him, but when the opportunity presents itself, you’ll repay this debt to him, no questions asked. And then you’ll be free again. Free to return to your predictable, comparatively safe existence in Linkon City.

Of course, nothing about Sylus is predictable, so when you receive an alert on your hunter watch that a citizen is in distress near your flat, you almost can’t believe your eyes as you sprint down the sidewalk, careen around the corner of your favorite neighborhood place to get iced lattes, and skid to a stop in front of a very big, very hurt Sylus. Elbows on knees, head hanging low, and blood visibly dripping down one of his wrists from under the cuff of his beaten up black leather jacket.

“The fuck, Sylus?” You stand in front of him awkwardly, suppressing the bizarre instinct to get on your knees in front of him, to lift his face and check for the source of injury.

“Now that’s not the most professional greeting to a citizen in need from one of Linkon City’s most heroic hunters, is it?” He sounds almost normal, the deep grind of his voice steady, except for an almost imperceptible hitch when he lifts his head. From that alone, you can tell that he is in a lot of pain.

Part of you is really worried—you’ve seen how quickly he heals, how seemingly indestructible he is. To be sitting out here, exposed in the twilight, clearly vulnerable, must mean that he is pretty desperate. And another part of you is relieved: finally, you can repay your debt, show him that despite all of your previous misconceptions, you’re sorry for thinking so poorly of him, for trying to stab him in the face and then kind of shooting him through the heart. To be fair, he did pull the trigger, but you didn’t try very hard to stop him. And then once you’ve helped him and gotten him on his way, hopefully you can stop thinking about him altogether.

“Can you get up?” you finally ask, taking a step closer. He looks up into your face, and you see how pale he is.

In response, he leans forward in preparation of standing, but grunts and sits abruptly back down.

“I might need some of that famous hunter assistance,” he says, wincing. “I’m afraid a wanderer got the better of me.”

You sit down next to him on his uninjured side, feeling the heat radiate from his thigh and shoulder, and smell sour sweat under his already-familiar scent—warm skin, gun oil, and strangely, oranges.

“I’m going to put your arm over my shoulder and help you lift up, ok?” He nods quickly, and lets you lift his meaty arm over your shoulders without complaint, just another hitch in his breath as you haul him up.

“Don't tell me I'm too heavy for Linkon City's finest hunter,” he tries to tease, but leans on you even more heavily.

“I can deadlift you, Sylus. This is nothing.” Ok, maybe you’re exaggerating. But if his weight presented a problem for you, you’d be a pretty piss-poor hunter. You pause for a moment, readjusting his arm around your neck. “I’m assuming you want to avoid hospitals and paperwork,” you state, trying not to be overwhelmed by how good he smells even covered in blood and stress-sweating under his edgy leather outfit.

“That would be a correct assumption, yes,” he breathes, and you hate the way that even in this messy state his breath is warm and welcome drifting across your cheek.

“Can you use your evol to transport us to one of your safe houses?” You’ve never confirmed with him that he actually is routinely in enough danger to require a safe house, let alone multiple, but you’re not surprised when he murmurs “Too drained right now,” acknowledging their existence.

Ok. You have no other option. You aren't prepared to let him into your space, to have the memory of his overwhelming presence in the only safe place left to you since your grandmother’s house was destroyed. But if this is the price you must pay to finally be free of your debt, of him, you’ll pay it.

“Fine. My flat is a short walk from here. Let’s go.” He says nothing, but takes heavy steps with you as you slowly make your way across the clean and even sidewalk of your city block, so different from the cracked, weed ridden paths winding through the N109 zone, when one is lucky enough to have a sidewalk to walk on at all.

Sylus isn’t the only one sweating now, as you haul him into your flat’s elevator. You’re relieved that Xavier is out of town, on one of his secretive missions doing who knows what, so you there’s no chance you’ll be asked to explain the presence of this bleeding stranger leaving a mess all over the pristine elevator floor. You make a mental note to come back as quickly as possible to clean it up, after you’ve dealt with the more urgent, hulking issue draped across your shoulders.

Sylus isn’t even looking around, just leaning more and more heavily into your body. His head tipped toward yours, soft hair drifting along your cheek, nose buried in your neck. You tell yourself he's just breathing heavily because of the pain--he can't possibly be inhaling your scent. You resist the urge to sniff your own armpit to make sure you did, of course you did, put on deodorant this morning.

You hesitate for only a moment outside your door, but take a deep breath and open it, hauling him into your foyer where you try as gently as possible to lower him to the ground and catch your breath. He grunts as his ass hits the floor, and you wince. “Sorry,” you offer (why is it easy to say it for this, but not for the biggest reason looming between the two of you?).

“I’m going to knock a star off your rating when I write my review on the Hunter’s Association feedback form,” he sighs, gingerly leaning back on his hands, wincing, and then putting all his weight onto his uninjured arm, ridiculously long legs stretched in front of him. His blood drips onto your foyer floor now, and you are mesmerized by it for a moment. It really does match the color of his eyes, and you’ve never thought blood beautiful until this moment.

“I suppose I’ll have to live with the consequences,” you say, trying to shake your head to free yourself of these weird thoughts. You kneel at his feet, and try as efficiently as possible to remove the boots with the stupid chains around the heels from his giant feet. “You can bleed on my floor, but I draw the line at you keeping your shoes on. Lift.” You tap his other foot, and he lifts it minutely so you can drag it off. “I’m going to get my first aid kit. Don't go anywhere,” you can’t help but snark, knowing that he isn’t in any position to move. You make your way through your flat, trying not to look at it through a new perspective, hyper-aware that he’ll soon be taking it in, evaluating your space, making judgments, gathering intel that he’ll file away to try to exploit another day.

You resist the urge to grab discarded clothing along the way, to tidy the bathroom sink and wipe down the mirror. You’re busy as fuck, not home nearly enough to fully relax most days, and certainly do not possess the energy to clean up often. If he has a problem with it, he should have found somewhere else to bleed out. You’re sorry for the circumstances of your first meeting, but you’re not going to apologize for the way you manage to live your life. You snap the cabinet closed and head back to the foyer.

Only to find this big motherfucker sitting on your couch, his jacket folded neatly on the seat under his hand so he doesn’t bleed onto the fabric underneath. How thoughtful, you think, seething.

You stop in the doorway and level him with a look that you hope conveys the disgust coursing through you at the moment. “Too injured to walk unassisted, huh?”

“Your support on the way here was invaluable in allowing me to catch my breath so that I could make my own way into your… uniquely charming home,” he rasps in response, completely unapologetic. His eyes leisurely drift around your living room and kitchen area, taking in the old take-out containers on the island counter, the guns and ammo scattered on the couch’s side table, the plants spilling over every other available surface. He nudges a plushie that has made its way from the armchair next to the couch to the floor with his sock-covered foot, and it squeaks, startling you out of your irritation. You move to his side on the couch and sit next to him, sweeping the magazines about distant, peaceful travel destinations that you’ll likely never see from the coffee table to the floor to make room for the first aid kit.

“I can take it from here,” he offers, watching as you pull out medical pincers, gauze, and disinfectant. “I don’t want to give you nightmares.”

You scoff softly, batting away his hand reaching for the supplies. “Despite your best efforts, you’re not scary enough to compete with the nightmares I already have,” you say, grasping his wrist and gently lowering it to rest on his knee. As you carefully roll up the sleeve of his shirt to examine the first wound, you realize just how much you have just revealed, for free, in that statement. You suppress a wince, overly conscious of his bright eyes drifting from your face to his arm and back again.

In the corner of your eye, you see his jaw clench as you reveal the bullet hole gaping in the round meat of his deltoid underneath his ruined sleeve.

“Wanderer got you, huh?” You sigh. “Since when do wanderers wield .38 caliber pistols?”

“Humans have been known to wander, from time to time,” Sylus deadpans, utterly shameless, glancing pointedly at your scattered travel magazines.

“You should have been a lawyer instead of a crime lord,” you sniff, resigning yourself to the task ahead.

You do your best to be gentle, offering him something to sink his teeth into as you dig into both the bullet hole in his shoulder and the one in the side of his left pectoral, uncomfortably close to where your own bullet ripped through him not so long ago. You know what to do, because you’ve been on the other side of this predicament with Zayne more times than you can count, and Zayne is a good, patient teacher. Sylus is panting and uncharacteristically quiet, and you hate yourself for the insane image that intrudes into your thoughts as you imagine his teeth sinking into something else, as you have to pointedly ignore the unblemished expanse of his exposed torso that heaves with each breath, the softness of pale, sweat-slicked skin under your calloused fingertips.

Finally, the last bullet drops onto the pile of extra gauze on the coffee table with a muffled thunk, and Sylus hisses as you generously pour disinfectant over the hole you just dragged it out of.

“Who is the kitten now, hiss boy?” you tease, trying to distract him from how much pain this is obviously causing him.

“Hiss … boy?” he narrows his eyes. “I’m rather certain that in contrast to the normal company you keep, there is nothing ‘boyish’ about me,” he responds smoothly, unruffled. So much for trying to get a rise out of him.

“Opinions differ,” you retort, beginning to wrap bandages tightly around his chest. You try again. “Ironic, that you’ve suffered injury from your own merchandise, don’t you think? Has it made you reconsider your line of work?”

“How are you so sure that I was shot with one of the guns I sell? This could be the result of the use of a legally registered firearm issued to one of your colleagues,” he says, watching you carefully. Your hands pause. You sit, gazing at the bandages you’ve just wrapped around his big shoulder, his broad chest, these parts of him that despite all their strength, their ability to knit themselves back together, are still just fragile flesh and blood, easily flayed open by a speeding bullet or the slash of a blade. You realize in an uncomfortable moment of self-awareness that it doesn’t matter if he was shot by one of his underworld counterparts with a grudge, or by one of your own colleagues. You just don’t want him to be hurt at all.

You move your hands again, snipping the end of the bandage you’ve just finished wrapping around his chest and using butterfly pins to secure it with a decisive snap. “There. Now you can begin to heal properly.”

You say this with a finality that you hope he can hear. It is done. You’ve cared for him to the best of your ability, at a time he needed it, and you hope that with each careful touch you offered, he heard the message loud and clear that you were sorry for what had previously happened between you, that you now owe each other nothing. Life can return to normal. It won’t matter anymore that you don’t want him to be in pain, that you want to protect his body from harm. You won’t be seeing him again.

“Still too drained to heal myself,” he murmurs, leaning back on your couch and closing his eyes as if he owns the place.

“Sylus—” you start, because he can’t stay here. You can’t handle him here, the silken fall of his ivory hair in stark contrast to the deep maroon of your couch, his legs manspreading, taking up more than his fair share of the cushions, his breath, scent, presence threatening to overwhelm your sense of space and boundaries. He doesn’t belong here, in this modest little flat, amongst yesterday’s take-out cartons and the light from the street lamps outside filtering in through your unwashed windows to illuminate the regal line of his nose. It’s like having a jaguar in a petting zoo, and you need him to leave. Now.

“If you’re so impatient to be rid of me, then resonate with me. That will expedite things significantly,” he interrupts your growing panic, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Do you not remember last time? We were chained together, and we still don’t know what broke the connection.”

“Mmm, is that what happened?” he murmurs drowsily.

“Oh, having trouble recalling? You kindly offered to cut off my hand to speed up the process—does that jog your memory?” you snap, frustration building again at the memory.

“How are we sure that the link happened because we resonated? Maybe it was just a coincidence.”

“What?” You can’t believe your ears. It’s so obvious that the successful resonance caused the uncomfortable link that chained you together for an unbearable amount of time.

“Correlation is not causation,” he enunciates slowly, as if you’re hard of hearing. Which ok, you have permanent tinnitus due to the almost constant gunfire involved in your occupation, but still! “The only way to confirm your theory is to resonate with me again.”

“You are not going to goad me into resonating with you again, Sylus.” You take a deep breath, breathe it out again. A smirk drifts across his face, which incidentally has regained some of the color that was missing when you first found him. You’ve paid your debt. He needs to go. You move to stand, but his voice stops you.

“Did you know? I had to increase my credit limit because of your little shopping spree at the auction,” he says wistfully.

“What?” You turn to look at him again. His eyes, glittering like rubies, are open now, amusement written all over him.

“Does the Hunter’s Association offer a hearing package in their health insurance policy? You might want to get your hearing tested, Sweetie.”

“What do you mean you had to increase your credit limit because of me?” you demand, ignoring his jab and annoying nickname. “I don’t believe that for a second!”

“My, my, have we learned to be less gullible after the little handcuff and smoke pistol incident?” he drawls, clearly steadily feeling better. “I should give Kieran and Luke a raise for what they did; it was a fun little interlude for me, and they taught you the very valuable lesson of recognizing bullshit when you hear it. They’ve given me one less thing to worry about.”

All you can do is stare at him, frustrated with how tongue tied this man often leaves you. Finally, you manage: “There is too much to unpack there so I’m not even going to touch it. Are you trying to tell me that I owe you something?”

“Well,” he draws out the word, producing a coin from… somewhere? Up his sleeve? Like the true cartoon villain he is, he begins flipping it with the hand of his uninjured side. “Naturally I don’t have a credit limit, because everyone knows that I’m good for my debts. But you did put a … dent in my bank balance with your little spending escapade at the auction, and I think the scale between us is a little unevenly tipped, don’t you? I mean, an honorable, fiscally responsible Linkon citizen such as yourself should be able to recognize when they’ve run up a fortune on someone else’s tab, and would feel compelled to make things square. Right?”

You can’t believe this. Here you were, from the very beginning, doing your best to wipe the ledger clean, repay your debt, treat this motherfucker with kindness, thinking about how you wanted to protect him from pain and injury, and this stingy asshole is pointing out that you, while following his directions, spent more of his money than you manage to make in…. multiple years, in one night, and he expects to be repaid. He’s right, though. Unlike him, you are honorable. Unlike him, you are fair, and believe in justice, and your spiteful doubling of what he said you should offer on that first protocore… and subsequent purchase of the entire inventory… maybe was… childish.

You look up at your ceiling, hands hanging at your sides. You try to remember not to let this man get under your skin like he has done from the very moment he melodramatically swooped down from an absurdly ringing bell tower and re-materialized in a whoosh of ridiculous crow feathers, sauntering towards you as if you should know who the fuck he is and simper accordingly.

Still staring at the ceiling, you hear yourself ask, “What would make us square, Sylus?”

You’re met with silence, long enough that you give in and glance down into his satisfied face.

“Because I’m a generous man, I’ll give you a choice: resonate with me now, or…”

“Or?” You take the bait.

“Let me use your place as a safe house if something like this happens again. I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t have one in this area, and I have a feeling I’ll be passing through more often now.”

“What? Why?”

“Which one will it be?” He smoothly ignores your questions, not even bothering to inquire about the state of your hearing. “Tick tock, I know you’re eager to be rid of me right now.”

Dimly, you’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that Sylus can’t force you to make this choice at all. You don’t actually have to go along with him, be pulled into his slip stream as he moves who knows how many steps ahead of you towards a goal you can’t see. You know that this so-called lingering debt is a pretext, and that he doesn’t actually  want to balance the scales. He wants something else. You just can’t figure out what the fuck that something else is.

The more you interact with him, the more you have to begrudgingly admit that the little cat he sees when he looks at you might not be as far from the truth as you’d insist if ever asked. Your curiosity, your hyper-awareness of his every movement, every twitch of his lips and fingers and the labyrinthine twists of his sharp, sharp mind have you mesmerized like a cat in front of a drifting feather.

You can’t help it. You know that you can’t handle resonating with him right now. You recall all too vividly the feeling of his power coursing through your body, the hunger, the starvation, finally sated, and the subsequent addiction that had already begun to form from the first moment your respective evols locked into their feedback loop, enabling each other, intertwining until one was indistinguishable from the other. You could lose yourself in this man and never find your way back to yourself if you’re not careful.

So. The safest option here, in this bargain that Sylus is offering you in exchange for the debt you apparently (doubtfully) still owe: “You can use my place when you need it.”

You don’t think he realizes it, but you can see the way his shoulders relax, his big body melting deeper into your couch. His face is serious; for some reason, he’s resisting his impulse to insult you by letting the satisfied grin spread over his face. He just breathes deeply, once, and watches you through half-lidded eyes.

“Deal,” he huffs after the silence drags almost unbearably long, heavily hauling himself to his feet. “I’ll get out of your hair for now.” He slowly, carefully picks his way through articles of clothing on the floor to reach the foyer again.

“I’ll make a spare key for you when I get the chance,” you mutter, already regretting your decision. All you had to do was resonate with him one more time, thereby wildly reducing the chances of ever running into him again. Maybe you should have gone with that option, the idea of him showing up at your place unannounced fills you with too much dread (anticipation), and you open your mouth to let him know you’ve changed your mind—

“No need,” Sylus finally smiles, his sharp canines glinting under the automatic hall light. “I’ll be seeing you, Kitten,” he promises, and promptly vanishes in a cloud of stupid, fucking feathers. Feathers that you have to later pick out of the bloody mess he left in your foyer, on your hands and knees.

[cauliflowercounty]

Special Request (Feyd Rautha x Reader)

My larger Feyd fic is almost done and will be out soon I promise, but I had an idea for a drabble that I really wanted to write because I can’t get this thought out of my head. It’s sorta stupid but I thought it was cute.

Summary: you’re the only person on Giedi Prime with hair, so Feyd gets you shampoo :)

Reader’s gender not specified

Feyd is sweet if I want him to be

no warnings

—

“My love?” Feyd says as you walk back to your shared quarters after a long day of diplomatic meetings. “May I ask why you’ve been covering your head as of late when we are outside of our chambers?”

“Oh…” you trail off, trying to come up with an excuse. “I’ve… been liking the headscarfs more as of late. Plus, they keep me warm. You know I find the halls cold.”

Feyd shakes his head. “I know when you aren’t being truthful with me.”

You sigh. Of course he saw right through you, him being your husband, after all. “It’s going to sound ridiculous, Feyd.”

“I promise I will not think any less of you. I could never,” he assures you by enclosing your hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze.

“I… don’t like the way my hair looks,” you admit, which makes him frown. He’s always disliked when you talk down about yourself.

“I love your hair,” he immediately says. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“I know you do, Feyd, and I’m really very flattered, but it’s looked awful recently,” you say. “I haven’t been able to wash my hair properly since I got here. The body soap that you have here is lovely, but it’s really not meant for my hair.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions. You’ve been married for years.

“I didn’t want to be a bother, especially since I’m the only one that would ever need it on this planet,” you counter as he immediately drops your hand and turns on his heel to head back the way you came.

“Feyd!” You call out to him, worried he’s angry at you, but all he does is call back to you telling you not to worry and that he’ll meet you in your quarters later, leaving you in the hallway in a state of bewilderment.

—

A few days later, Feyd pulls you aside as you gaze out at the industrial skyline of Geidi Prime and starts walking you through the halls.

“I have something to show you,” he says as he takes you to the door of your shared quarters. He unlocks the door and immediately takes you into the bathroom.

“Feyd, what is this?” You gasp when you enter, seeing the room lit by candles and the bathtub full of hot, soapy water. On a tray next to the tub, you see more different kinds of of haircare items than you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What do you think?” he asks. “I had it all brought in specially for you.”

“I love it,” you reply. “I can’t believe you did this just for me.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” he smiles, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. You squeal as you grab a bottle and shed your headscarf and clothes before climbing into the tub and dunking your hair in the water. Feyd smiles at your giddiness, taking the bottle from you and positioning himself on his knees behind the tub. He opens the bottle and puts some of the shampoo on his palm and spreads it onto your hair. Gently massaging your scalp, he works the suds through your hair with his fingers as you close your eyes and sink into the tub, relaxing at his touch.

“You’re marvelous, you know that, my love?” He asks as you hum in response.

“Thank you for this, Feyd,” you grin, feeling all of the stress from the day melt away at his touch.

“Anything for you,” he replies, his heart swelling seeing you so happy.