#not quite in the normal context that you would think. at least not from my memory

[v0idwraith]

oh yeah also for people watching the edge of sleep who haven’t listened to the podcast, be aware that self harm is a not insignificant part of dave’s backstory and is also used as a method to keep the characters awake.

[creatingblackcharacters]

No, That’s Not ‘How Color Works’. - Whitewashing

Whitewashing, as defined by Merriam-Webster:

"to alter (something) in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people: such as a) to portray (the past) in a way that increases the prominence, relevance, or impact of white people and minimizes or misrepresents that of nonwhite people and B) to alter (an original story) by casting a white performer in a role based on a nonwhite person or fictional character"

In fandom context, we know it to include:

Making someone’s skin lighter

Making someone’s hair a thinner texture

Changing someone’s nose to be thinner

Shrinking their lips

Changing the character in their entirety to be someone else

The Normalization of Whitewashing

Remember how I mentioned last lesson that despite the nature of poorly drawn Black characters, most audiences are not turned off enough to discourage the action in professional works? Similar idea with whitewashing. Not the same- unlike the Ambiguously Brown Character, which claims to have plausible deniability, overt whitewashing is usually enough to make fans speak up! But that’s the key word here- overt! It has to be “bad enough” to make enough people speak up, but as we’ve seen many a time, “bad enough” seems to have a much higher threshold for nonblack viewership (sometimes the limit doesn’t exist!)

Some visual examples

This is a link to my personal thread on a Netflix show I was watching- Worst Ex Ever. Now, while the show itself was quite enlightening, there was something I could not get over. I thought I was going crazy. And that was that no matter how dark the person of color would be in real life, the animated portions would draw this light pinkish-brown. Every. Single. Time. It's like they couldn't fathom scrolling down the color wheel. And this is a Netflix original! Netflix has plenty of money for someone to have caught this in creation. But... it was produced. And put out. And they're making more of it.

I asked all of the Dragon Age fans about the series, and uh… I didn’t know things were this bad, guys! Apparently this is a man of color, but it doesn't seem like the creators want you to know that 🤣. Jokes aside, as I’ve discussed before, the noticeable whitewashing- and that was one of many racist things I was told- was not enough to prevent sales... so why would they stop? I can only hope this new game, with all the updates, is enough to turn the tide. But the series has gone on for a while now, that if they’d chosen to do ye same olde… there clearly would not be a lack of financial support to prevent it.

Colorism as a Tool

Even when actors of color are cast, colorism often plays a role in normalizing whitewashing to audiences, even to Black audiences! People think “oh well at least they’re Black!” as if that is the only important part. It is not.

While Aaron Pierre, the actor cast for John Stewart of Green Lantern fame, is a GORGEOUS, STUNNING man, he is not the dark-skinned man that John Stewart is supposed to be and should not have been cast! To me, this is overt colorism, but clearly for many people this is not “enough” to warrant concern or even prevent the casting itself- including the studio behind the movie! Black fans have plead for years for the character of Storm to be played by a dark-skinned, preferably African, woman, and it has never happened.

It naturally happens in fan spaces as well, which is another indicator that colorism as a tool for whitewashing is quite effective for audiences. If I see one more Zendaya fan cast for Kida from Atlantis, I will scream. It’s been happening for years, and I don’t think any of the people who just want to see her and Tom on screen either understand or care that Kida is a dark-skinned character. Zendaya doesn’t look anything like Kida- it doesn’t matter if she’s Black too! Just because someone is Black does not mean they can play every single Black character! I’ve even seen people fancast Emilia Clarke of Game of Thrones fame, to which… I don’t have the words. I can’t fathom what would cause these decisions other than racism.

The Common Excuses

I must be honest. I don’t really feel like re-iterating how certain things are not okay and how to fix them, because I’ve already discussed these things in massive detail. So I’m just going to direct the excuses I regularly hear to my lessons, where you can read up on them.

“Their hair/eyes are like that because they’re biracial so-”

Relevant Lessons: 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 8, 9, 10

There is nothing wrong with having biracial characters with a range of features. I am not saying that! Because yeah, genetics do happen!

But I mentioned this in my last lesson, and I will re-emphasize here, that using biracial identity as a way to whitewash is a sinister form of racism. The intention here- the real intention- is the issue here! The idea that somehow this character can only look the way you want them to look by "diluting" their Blackness… I don’t know how you can explain yourselves out of that one.

You don’t get to use us as an excuse for diversity while still trying to maintain your preference for Eurocentric beauty standards. Black biracial people don’t always look light skinned, thin-haired and ambiguous, and even the ones that do don’t deserve to be treated as your fetish for pretend antiracism. If you just want to draw a white person with a tan, do that. But don’t change a character’s entire look just so you can work in some whiteness. If you want to claim that canon Black character’s mother was white, then I guess they inherited some of her personality because their features should not change.

“It’s my style/It’s the color-”

Relevant Lessons: 3, 4, 10

I hate all excuses for whitewashing, but I’ve grown to despise, hate, abhor and loathe this one the most as I’ve become an artist. I wish there were stronger words to describe just how much I hate the “style” and “color” excuse.

Are style and use of color oft intertwined? Absolutely. I’m not saying they aren’t. But out of everything, there are two things I want artists to understand:

1. Style does not cancel out racism! No style forces you to choose ashy greys and to change peoples’ features. That’s you! If you look at something, and it looks offensive, you change the style. You grow as an artist!

2. “Everyone who is brown will look ashy so I just-” if you recognize that your Black characters look strange in comparison to your nonblack characters, then it’s time to try something else! I don’t understand this sudden need for “realism” when it comes to color and lighting, but not when it comes to hair, for example. No one cares about realism when giving every and all Black characters wavy tresses they probably wouldn’t have, but suddenly milquetoast watercolor attempts at brown and off-putting lighting is “how it works”. That’s not fair.

The color picker is an available tool! I use it often!

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if someone gets the outfit color palette right via color picking, but the skin color is multiple shades lighter. That means they were looking at that character and chose not to proceed.

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if the white characters in the show are completely correct in their palettes. Again, that means they cared enough to look at everyone else… and not the Black characters.

If you use the color picker and the color picked is… disrespectful, you do not have to use that! You can simply choose a better color that is still similar to the brown that ought to be depicted!

“It’s the lighting-”

Relevant Lessons: 4, 5

If your white characters do not shine like snow in the sunlight because of your lighting, then your lighting does not make your Black characters suddenly light tan.

If your Black characters look bad in your lighting of choice- for example, putting a very dark-skinned character in electric white lighting can be ghastly- try changing the intensity or the color of the lighting. DON’T change your character’s skin color!

I'm going to show you some pictures of South Sudanese model Nyakim Gatwech. Pay attention to the choices of light, color, and makeup.

Look how BEAUTIFUL she is! Look at the choices of intensity and color of light, and how they make her look different in each image.

Now look at this image in comparison:

In this image, whoever did her makeup and took this picture did not take into consideration her skin tone. She's also under this really intense lighting. This is an example of "increasing the lighting does NOT make an image "better"". She didn't need to have lighter skin or "more lighting" to look good. She needed BETTER lighting, lighting that worked with HER.

To see this as an example in drawn art, @dsm7 makes an excellent argument for proper lighting and color, why it is an issue to use it as an excuse, and how to solve that problem.

‼️DISCLAIMER FOR NEXT EXAMPLE‼️

Okay. I am about to show y’all a fan-created example from my personal experience. It is a TEACHING EXPERIENCE ONLY. I am not including the artist’s name in this image. It happened a couple years ago, and it’s over- they’ve chosen to be who they are despite me kindly confronting them about it. The only reason I’m including it at all is because I feel like it would be remiss to have such a clear-cut, multi-level example, and not teach with it. That said, no, I am not telling anyone to act out towards them. Again, that is not what I’m telling you to do. The last thing I need is a literal lynch mob of angry nonblack viewership for trying to teach you all, and y’all sitting there watching it happen to me. Every example of whitewashing is not going to be so obvious, but I hope you learn how to spot the examples in the art you see and share.

I'm obviously a Hades fan, particularly of Patroclus- despite my disdain for the lack of effort in his canon character design. So I've seen a lot of things. That said:

“Well it’s just MY design of them-”

Relevant Lessons: ALL

The sepia coloring did not do this. The lighting did not do this. The design is the exact same as the Hades version, even down to the shape of the hair curling in the back. The only thing that is different… is the man himself.

Y'all. Y'all! You CANNOT take a pre-existing Black character and say “oh well this is my design of them” …and the design is of a whole white person. Because if the rest of the fit is the same, and the only thing that changed is the Blackness… Racism. If you’re going to “make up your own design”, then do that!

“Blackwashing”

Speaking of: I’m sure someone edgy out there thinks they’re so smart as they retort to the screen: “but if that’s not okay, then why is Blackwashing okay?” To which I say- shut up. 😐

The “definition” by fandom: making a nonblack character Black, usually an anime character, but characters in general.

Funny enough, the actual definition in the dictionary (or closest to) is “to defame”, in contrast with whitewash (as in whitewashing history). Maybe racist fans ARE using it correctly when they say you’re blackwashing their characters, when they mean you’re making them “less likable because they’re Black now”. 🤔

Anyway: Blackwashing is not real for the same reason reverse racism is not real.

Me painting these characters brown is not going to take away from the fact that there are far more of you in media than there is of me. Me saying that I ‘headcanon a character as Black with 4C hair’ is not going to make the studio go “oh! Well they must be Black with 4C hair now!” Me saying “oh I think I’d like this character better if they were Black” as a beta tester (less overtly, obviously, because I’m not racist!) will never make a studio change that character. Black viewers have minimal value in comparison to the power of the white viewer’s dollar. I could draw white characters Black every single day of every single game media… and they would still produce majority white characters. There has not been centuries- if not millennia, when we consider Jesus Christ himself, even- of purposeful “Blackwashing” with the intent of removing the original ethnicity- and thus importance- of white people. No one has ever been allowed to forget when someone is white. No one has ever been allowed to forget or not acknowledge white people.

How it could be "solved"

Personally, I love Black edits and I welcome them here. I find them creative and fun. But if you really, REALLY didn’t want us to make those edits, then naturally, we need more Black characters in all of our media!

I wouldn’t have to make edits if I saw more of me to begin with in the things I like to watch- but when we have those characters, racists act an ass about them. We’re not allowed to even be present! I’ve seen too many gamer bros mocking the existence of Yasuke in Assassin’s Creed, and he was a real ass man. But if we made a game about African peoples in African societies, how many of the gamer bros would actually play those games? Do you think there’d be as much support, when we hear so much about Black characters that are treated so abhorrently? How many games do we have where people would love their faves just as much if they were Black? I even learned that Solas was apparently supposed to be a man of color. IMAGINE how many people would not have liked that man, with the same exact plot and characterization.

Something I’ve noticed recently: apparently "Blackwashing" is not a thing when White fans “allow” it. Take this recent trend with Miku. International Miku was beloved! But if you draw any other character as Black on any other day, there will be people that are horrid about it. Ask any artist, Black artists and Black cosplayers especially, who’s ever done it what their comments are like. I’ve read entire missives akin to white supremacist drivel on how it’s somehow morally wrong to make characters Black. Meanwhile no amount of “hey maybe you shouldn’t do this” prevented the movie Gods of Egypt from being created, with a cast full of British White people.

Solutions to Avoiding Whitewashing!

1) Using References!!

Do I think you should know what Black people look like? Yes. We’re humans. It’s 2024. Everyone knows what we look like when it’s time to hate and discriminate against us, so you know what we look like when it’s time to love and depict us. If you’re on Tumblr, you have access to the Internet. ESPECIALLY if you’re in the U.S., as Black people are the source of damn near every piece of online pop culture. If you can find my dialect to make my jokes, you can find pictures of me.

Would I rather you use a reference every single time so that you can only strengthen your depiction of my people? ABSOLUTELY.

Anyone on the Internet telling you not to use a reference or that you shouldn’t need a reference? Unfollow them. You don’t need that negativity in your life. Why would you deprive yourself of a tool to create? The greatest portrait painters in history had to look at their subjects! You are not getting paid nearly as much to do this as Hans Holbein, and he had to stare at Henry VIII correct else lose his head- you can pull up multiple references. I’d far rather be judged for using hella references than be judged for being a racist!

Part of the issue is people draw what they’re used to, what they’re comfortable with (thus last lesson). But if what you’re used to is not what someone will look like… That’s not okay. Their features are not the issue, your skills are the issue. Learn! Practice! There is no rush. No one is rushing you to be perfect at drawing Black characters, and no one is rushing you to post them. You can just practice! If you’re not a professional, you can take as long as you need to draw! If you need to draw that piece of hair over and over until you feel like you have down the shape, you do that! If you need to use a tool that would draw the hair for you, you get that tool!

If you want to post, you can say you are practicing! If you make clear you are practicing, then be willing to accept that people may have feedback. I’d far rather deal with someone saying they’re unconfident and practicing, than someone posting a whitewashed caricature and closing their ears because “well at least I’m trying!”

2) Empathize! Care about actual Black people when you create a Black character!

Imagine, if you will, in the Twilight Zone: you went to an artist, and you asked for a white character (I typed in “regular looking white dude” on google). There’s hardly ever any white characters, you’re so super excited about this one! You paid good money, because you’ve seen just how amazing this artist creates! They’re so good at drawing characters of color! But no matter how many times you ask, they send you back an image of… Assad Zaman.

That man might be fine as hell! Gorgeous! Beautifully done! Chef’s kiss. Stunning! But… He’s not white. That’s not what you asked or paid for. You can’t even fathom how they mixed this up, they don’t even look alike! And when you confront them, they gaslight you, they call YOU the issue for not understanding how you can’t tell that this is a white man! They would never get this wrong! They have white friends, you’re the racist! But you’re not stupid, and you have functioning eyes- you can SEE what this drawing looks like! And… It’s not you.

It’s dehumanizing. It’s being told that there’s a “better way” to look like you, and that’s by… Not looking like you. You, as you exist, are what’s incorrect. Your identity is incorrect, not their drawing. It’s better to have thinner hair instead of an afro or locs, it’s better to have lighter skin, it’s better to have a straighter, thinner nose over a round one, and smaller lips.

And what makes it worse is knowing that people who don’t look like you? Probably won’t care. They won’t be willing to see- not unable, but unwilling- that playing with this caricature is harmful, that they’re propagating harm by not acknowledging it. They’re letting you know that your humanity means less to them than the clout received with a whitewashed or half-assed Black character, and that people will applaud them for that ‘attempt at inclusion’. And people will applaud! They will be entertained by the mere performance! And that hurts.

I’m going to say this, and it’s awkward and I try not to say it directly on here, but… Having Black friends and/or being around actual, real life Black people would help. I can tell from some of the questions I receive that Black characters and their traits- especially things like our hair and our cultures- are being treated as… alien concepts. But even if, for whatever reason, you legitimately don’t know any Black people, you do not need to know us individually to care about our humanity as a whole! Even if you do not know we’re there, we are, and we could possibly see your work!

By acknowledging Blackness and making room to understand what it means- and that includes how we can look- you are doing the bare minimum of acknowledging our personhood. If you cannot do even that, you don’t need to be drawing us.

Conclusion

Here’s the thing: if you want to draw a white man with tanned skin, do that. Just do it! You do NOT have to erase me to have more of you! There is not a single fandom where the majority of the white fans ever said “gee, not another white guy!” It simply doesn’t happen. God knows we wish it did sometimes. You will always have an audience for white characters. There’s no danger to any of you of “being erased”.

(Without putting on my political hat, I will say that a lot of white people who consider themselves to be far from white supremacist will express beliefs in line with great replacement theory if you push them hard enough. It is unfortunately not as uncommon an idea as you might think. I would do some self-evaluation.)

People are going to notice that you only ever draw white people, but… To be frank, that has never stopped anybody from being successful. Again, Jen Zee, at Supergiant with the terrible dark-skinned characters… Still has a job. at Supergiant. A professional studio. Dragon Age. Multiple games of consistent whitewashing and racist writing. Still going. If racism prevented creation and popularity, I wouldn’t have to have this blog. Alas, that is the society we currently live in.

But if you ACTUALLY want to depict Black characters, if you ACTUALLY want to do right and be respectful- not because you want the clout, but because it’s the right damn thing to do- then you need to commit! This means drawing them as they are meant to be! Accept that you’ll likely lose some fan base, who was there (whether they were aware of it or not) for the white and lighter skinned characters. Accept that this means that trying to appeal to those people by whitewashing characters is 1) wrong, 2) racist, which is 3) something you chose to do when you could simply have just… Drawn more white people.

I’ll say it again: antiracism is hard. It’s hard doing the right thing in a society that rewards racism so easily. It’s really hard knowing that people will stop supporting you or caring as much about your work when you start including Black characters as actively as you do white ones, especially if you start talking about the importance of it. But in my honest opinion, I’d far rather be someone that cared about others, with genuine fans, than someone that was racist for the fleeting internet clout of strangers. And that may be less ‘hopeful’ than I normally am in these lessons, but… People make choices. And people who have been informed- as you are now- are aware of the choices they are making. It’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers- let’s choose better actions.

[polaris-daydreams]

think i need someone older

pairing : charlie reid x reader

warnings : SMUT ❗❗ daddy kink, brat taming, blowjob, rough facefucking, spit swallowing, cum swallowing, masturbating, dirty talk, imbalance of power due to difference in rank and age. pet names used : sweetheart, kid, my little girl, good girl, reid refers to himself as daddy. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18 ❗❗

summary : you don't like the deputy chief, making it loud and clear. that only leaves reid one option, to brat tame you. 

w/c : 2.4k

a/n : for my bb @flofaiiry <3 bcs yes my moots are powerful enough to make me watch all 8 episodes of chicago pd where shawn hatosy appears, just to write about charlie reid. i'm reading her charlie reid work after i post this which means you should too okay !! this takes place before s12 ep21 where the big confrontation happens, but after torres’s relationship is known to reid ! gif credits: @ozarkthedog. divider credits: @cafekitsune. as always, likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated. enjoy and go crazy over this man muaks <3

You’re a stellar officer by all accounts.

Clean record. Scholarship to the academy. 100% success rate on all your cases thus far. Past partners, members of Hank’s team and even local residents sing you praises.

A goody two shoes officer wasn't really on his radar, Reid thinks to himself. Even if you were on Hank’s team. Nothing to use, to manipulate to get his way. Too clean. Too pure. 

Yet you're the furthest thing from sunshine when you're with him.

Furrowed eyebrows. Snarky remarks. Crossed arms. You’ve made your dislike of the Deputy Chief quite clear. Despite the reprimands from your Sargeant and advice from your team members to pull back on it. Make it less obvious so you don’t incur his wrath. It all falls on deaf ears. 

Reid even caught wind of your complaining once.

“Does he think we’re his playthings? We have bigger criminals to catch than a carjacking one.” You had whispered to your Sargeant.

“Hank! You got a second?” Reid called out while leisurely strutting up to the two of you.

You didn't even try to hide your grimace at his (frequent) sudden appearances.

“Yes sir. Need an update?” Voight had become accustomed to his hovering.

“Nah. Just wanted to make sure you guys were on the right track and following the lead on this case. Don’t want my favorites to get complacent. Makes me feel like I bet on the wrong horse.” Reid answered.

You rolled your eyes.

This fucking brat.

Oh, what Reid would give to see you doing that in a different context.

“We got it handled sir.” Voight assured before leading the way to the car again.

Your eyes lingered on Reid’s as you walked backwards, before spinning and walking normally. Reid’s gaze stayed on your frame, even as you got in the car. Eyes locking when Hank starts the car. You squint at him. As if Reid’s beneath you. He’ll show you how you got it backwards a few days later.

You drag your feet back up the stairs. Losing a bet with the team meant you were left to deal with the neverending paperwork while they all went on their merry way. Of course Ruzek would rope you into their antics. The stack in your arms getting heavier by the second.

The space is dark, all desk lamps are off. Or at least, that's what you expected. Sarge’s office light is still on. A figure peeking through the window blinds. 

An outline you instantly recognise, disdain already bubbling up in your chest.

You don’t announce yourself as you enter Voight’s office, placing the stack of reports down before turning to Reid and leaning against the desk.

Your eye twitches when you take him in. Reid has his feet propped up on the table, as if he owns the place. One arm on the back of the couch, the other resting on the side. Fingers drumming as if he was waiting for you to show up. He’s dressed in a dark-coloured button up, glasses adorning his face. A different look from all the vests and uniforms. One might even say a little domestic.

What?

You stamp down that thought in your head, busying yourself with one of the files as you question him.

“The hell are you doing here?” You demand while not looking up.

So you don’t notice him stopping his movement. Don’t notice pushing his tongue into his cheek at your attitude. 

“I like to make it a point to know all my officers. So I know all about your clean record. Top of your class. Volunteering work and engaging with the community. You’re a real pleasure to work with, based on … well everybody.” Reid huffs a tiny laugh at that.

You clench your jaw. Annoyed at whatever little mind game he’s playing.

“And? What, you want a lollipop for that? It’s basic information. Anybody could’ve read my files.” You deadpan.

Reid smirks. Lollipop? Oh, he’ll give you something to suck alright.

“Mm. That’s true, but … they wouldn't think to dig a little deeper. Read along the lines as I did.” He responds while leaning back, taking his glasses off to place them atop his head.

“You don’t just follow orders from your superiors, you like being told what to do, being guided. You don’t just enjoy engaging with the community, you enjoy hearing them praise you, notice your efforts. You don’t just go along with the teasing from your team members, you look forward to the different pet names they come up with.” Reid’s voice is lower, as he takes his feet off the table.

Choosing to manspread on the couch instead.

He tilts his head.

“Why don’t you want those with me?” Genuine confusion shows in his face, as if he asked something totally innocent.

“If you’re shy, I’ll have you know I’m more than willing to be sweet on you kid. Just gotta stop being such a fuckin’ brat.”

You grip the file tighter. Bring your crossed arms closer to your chest.

All it does is make Reid’s eyes drop, before dragging them slowly up your body again.

“I think we’re done here Chie-” You push away from the desk, getting two long strides in before he interupts.

“Sit down.”

You stop in your tracks from the domineering tone he uses.

A quick glance to Reid reveals his carefree posture. Leaned back, legs spread wide. The hand that was draped on the back of the sofa is now curled on his mouth, barely covering a smirk. Like he knew the effect that kind of tone and command would have on you.

“I said. Sit. Down, kid.” Reid emphasises his point by tapping his foot once, twice.

You know what he’s really asking you to do.

What’s gonna happen if you decide to sit on the floor between his legs.

You also realise that Reid’s still giving you an out.

Unmoving from his position on the couch, the door is wide open in front of you. Reid wouldn’t stop you if you did cross over. If you chose to remain pure, untainted by his corrupted hands.

So he is slightly surprised when you go up to the door. Not to walk out, but to close and lock it. You slowly make your way to Reid. Standing between his spread knees. Not quite listening to Reid’s instructions, but that’s alright. He’ll make you obey him soon enough.

Reid runs his hands up and down your thighs covered by your black stockings. The warmth makes you shudder. He notices. He always notices.

“Been thinking of you day and night, sweetheart.”

“About ripping your tights and bending you over the desk whenever you had an attitude.” He unzips your skirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“Or fucking your throat whenever you got mouthy with me.” He tugs down your stockings, eyes darkening when he sees your panties.

“Awh, those just for me kid? S’cute, might have to steal them.” He coos while kneading your thighs.

You roll your eyes before quickly getting on your knees. Not out of submission, but out of annoyance.

“Just shut the fuck up and-” You’re cut off by Reid yanking you by the roots of your hair.

“Oh sweetheart, you kiss your Daddy bye-bye with that dirty mouth? He never teach you any manners?” Reid unbuckles his belt with his free hand.

“S’okay, I’ll do it for you, yeah?” Freeing his hard cock, pumping it a few times.

“I’ll be your Daddy tonight, kid.”

That’s the only warning you get before he thrusts hard into your mouth. You barely manage to hold down a gag at the feeling of him completely filling you up, when he takes it back out and slams into you again. The tip of his cock is kissing the back of your throat as Reid keeps up his brutal pace.

“This what you wanted? Needed, hm?” 

Drool escapes down your chin. Garbled moans and wet sounds fill the small office.

“Just needed Daddy to discipline you? My little girl just wants her Daddy to be mean and rough?”

Tears are welling up in your eyes. You can’t keep up with the snapping of his hips combined with the size of him.

“Well, what kind of Daddy would I be if I didn't give her what she wants, hm?”

Reid pulls his cock out of your mouth completely. A string of saliva connects from the tip of his cock to your swollen lips, before you sputter out a cough or two.

“Want to hear you say it, kid.”

He swipes a thumb over your chin, collecting your saliva.

“Tell Daddy how much you need him. Then I’ll give you whatever you want sweetheart.”

Reid brings his thumb past his lips, groaning as he tastes your saliva.

Your teary eyes are on him, vision slightly blurred. Yet you can still make out that cocky expression as he looks down at you.

His hand goes down to your face again. Gentle brushes of his knuckles on your cheekbones. The tight grip on the back of your hair has loosened up, stroking the hair softly instead.

A soft moment of reprieve. Just to get you to listen to him.

“Come on. Just let Daddy know that you need his big cock to fuck your throat. Let’s learn to be polite and ask for things we want, okay kid?” He has that condescending melodic tone, the one that makes your brain get all fuzzy.

You clench the fists on your thighs. Swallowing down your pride.

“Want … want Daddy to fuck my throat. Need him to cum down it, please?”

The smile Reid gives you is downright evil.

“Yeah? My little girl needs Daddy’s cock? Just needs Daddy’s cum, huh?”

His hand stops caressing your face, joining the one at the back of your head.

“Alright kid. Three taps to stop, okay?” 

You think the corners of his eyes soften just a little. 

But it's hard to focus when Reid uses both his hands to shove your mouth down the full length of his cock.

Even harder when he bucks his hips up, reaching even deeper into the warmth of your throat.

“Fuck, kid. You don’t know how many times I’ve fantasised about this. About you.”

The glasses have fallen back onto his face from the movement, a hand leaving you to quickly right them before resuming the position behind your head.

“Whenever you get bratty with me, I come home to fuck my fist to the memory of you. Make a mess on my sheets because of you, kid.”

Reid’s panting now, chest moving up and down. His focused eyes darkened from lust.

“Remember that time you said if I viewed your team as my playthings? Fuck, that made me so hard, I had to jerk off in the office bathroom. Made me think about you as my plaything. Mine to bounce on my cock whenever I wanted, suck my cock wherever I wanted.”

Tears are falling freely down your face. Slick sounds of your saliva mixed with his precum, against the thrusting motions are echoing in the room. You’re grinding against nothing, the feeling of him just too good to stop your hips. You hope Reid doesn't notice. He does. Gives you a little nod to let you slip your hand down your panties.

“M’ sure your team wouldn't mind if they saw. They already covered up Torres’s relationship, what’s another one huh? Nobody’s stupid enough to stand up to me as Deputy Chief anyways.” He lets out a dark chuckle, seeing you hump your fingers while sucking him off.

“So what do you say kid? Wanna be Daddy’s little plaything? I’ll fuck you good, you know that. Fill you up with my cum always. Send you out on cases with my cum dripping out of you, would you like that sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, moaning around his cock pistoning in and out of your mouth. The pleasure of you fingering yourself along with him fucking your throat has you completely pliable.

Reid hisses as your moans send vibrations to his cock. He coos at the sight of you, absolutely cock-drunk. Just the way he likes it.

“Yeah? You would huh. Want you to make a mess all over your fingers and cute panties. Make a mess for Daddy, and he’ll give you what you need kid. I’ll fuck you before briefings, let my cum leak out of you while you listen obediantly. I’ll make you take me under the desk, keep me warm while I write reports.”

Your sweet whimpers are music to Reid’s ears. The view of you desperately humping your fingers, mindlessly chasing after pleasure, goes straight to his ego.

“Maybe, I’ll even fuck you over Hank’s desk. Let your team hear how good Daddy makes you feel. Let them know that I own them. That I own you.”

Your eyes roll back as your body convulses beneath him. Hips stuttering as you cum from his sinful words. The feel of him bruising your throat. Your fingers deep inside you.

It all pushes Reid to the edge. Cursing and shoving his cock completely as he spills himself into the warmth of your throat. His head is tilted back as you milk him dry, muscles tensing from the aftershocks.

Panting. Still riding that high, Reid looks back down at you as he slowly takes out his cock. He grips your jaw shut.

“Swallow.”

The command manages to get through your fucked-out state of mind. A mind that now only has him, him, him.

You gulp it down. Feeling it go down your throat and settling in your stomach.

Reid follows the movement of your throat. Tongue darting out quickly. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, flicking it down slightly.

“Stick out your tongue and show Daddy.”

You listen. No snarky remarks. No rolling of your eyes. Reid smirks triumphantly at your newfound obedience for him.

“Good fucking girl.”

The next morning when Kim comes in, she makes a comment about you getting in early even after staying late. You don’t tell her you never left. Or about how your cum soaked panties are with the Deputy Chief. Or how despite changing into different clothes, your new panties are still soaked. With Reid’s cum dripping out of you.

a/n : need that corrupt cop. also i broke my glasses while watching so i had my foldable laptop up to my face seeing shawn hatosy in all his glory. pretty pleasee like, comment or reblog if you enjoyed. come be feral over yet another shawn hatosy character with me !!

no pressure tags for beloved moots : @flofaiiry @erwinsvow @callsign-fangirl @superhoeva @mangonom @flamingdisputes @likedovesinthewnd @loveslide @twentytoo22 @ultr4vjolence

[xjulixred45x]

sowwy but im absolutely in love with your concept of Yuu!Parent and the Yuus from the manga being siblings, so if you dont mind me i would love to share some random thoughts i have about it <333

Is just, i was thinking that the Yuu siblings after reuniting with Yuu!Parent everyone would be like extra caring because of all the time they have been separated and how Yuu!Parent would be wanting to care of their childs, but would be the Yuu siblings the one taking care and teaching Yuu!Parent everything about Twisted wonderland

And just imagine that now that they parent is in Twisted Wonderland too they would end up showing them up A LOT! But, like, they didn't even mean to bragg about their parent so much, they are just too excited

Alsoooo since Grim refuses to be treaten like the cat he is the he becomes an unoficial son >:3c

OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR WRITING WORK FOR SEVERAL OF MY FAVORITE FANDOMS😍. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR IDEAS.

They mean this work here

And yes! Totally! I already have this mental image that when a new sibling arrived in Twisted Wonderland, the other previous Yuus would stick to them like glue (either worried about how to adapt the new Yuu to this world, knowing why specific family members kept appearing, if their mom/dad was okay, if they were looking for them in their world, etc.), so when Yuu! Parent enters the mix, the kids stick to him like ticks.

Yuu!Parent is so confused about so many things in the world of Twisted Wonderland. What do you mean the coin is different? What is Magicam? WHY IS THERE A TALKING CAT WITH FIRE EARS IN THE HOUSE?!

Yuu!Parent is definitely scared of several things at first (Lilia tried to greet them in her typical head-first way and got hit in the face with a frying pan). As much as Yuu!Parent wants to protect their children now that they has them within reach again, they'll have to accept that they's not even qualified to be in that world. They do, they have the experience, so the children will have to guide them little by little.

The first thing Yuu!Parent becomes familiar with is money, laws, etc. Things to be able to be a "normal" citizen within TWST, and at least give their children a hand in academics. Speaking of which, the Yuus can't stop talking about their parent, so much so that it's almost exhausting, whether it's about how the dormitory has never been cleaner, or when one of them gets a good grade after a study session with Yuu!Parent, or bringing homemade bento boxes to the cafeteria that Yuu!Parent clearly made. They're just so happy to have a sense of normalcy back.

Grim definitely scared Yuu!Parent a lot the first time. Afterward, they thought he was a house cat (much to his outrage), and now he's officially getting the son treatment—no more tuna after 11, he must be in bed before 12, he must wear a sweater in the winter to avoid catching a cold, and in return, he'll get their homemade food. Grim may act tough, but he loves the attention and cuddles.

Yuuken still tries to be the man of the house, but he's relaxed considerably, on the one hand, not being as strict with himself, and on the other hand, being much more protective of Yuu!Parent due to the context. This is an even more dangerous world than the ones they come from. Not only that, but Yuu!Parent has no idea where they stand, so Yuuken is quite vigilant in case anyone tries to take advantage of that.

Yuuka, similar to Yuuken, relaxes considerably when Yuu!Parent is around; it's almost like a switch. When Yuu!Parent isn't around, she reverts to her almost intimidating self, but it's never like that when her parent is around for some reason. She definitely tries to help with errands and teaches Yuu!Parent a few things about TWST culture.

Yuuta is so happy to be cooking with Yuu!Parent again after so many months of heartache that the first time they do it while in TWST, they probably both cry, simply overwhelmed by the joy of being together again. Yuuta probably tells Yuu!Parent about several of the adventures they had (with Yuuna), even if he tries to leave out the scariest details so as not to scare Yuu!Parent shitless (or make them kill Crowley too soon...).

Yuuna bursts into tears as soon as she sees Yuu!Parent at NRC. She's so happy to see them, but on the other hand, she feels it's unfair that whatever brought them to TWST also stole her parent, but she's quickly comforted by Yuu!Parent. They usually spend their time wandering around NRC/Twisted Wonderland in general, shopping for clothes, trying food, practicing tricks with Grim, and trying to catch up on their lives.

When they first arrived at Twisted Wonderland, the shabby dorm had never felt so homey, even after all the siblings arrived, but now it does, filled with laughter, jokes, and noise. NOW IT'S A HOME.

_______

(ESPAÑOL)

OH POR DIOS AMO TUS TRABAJOS DE ESCRITURA DE VARIOS DE MIS FANDOMS FAVORITOS MUCHAS GRACIAS POR TUS IDEAS

¡Y si! ¡Totalmente! De por si tengo esta imagen mental de que cuando llegaba un nuevo hermano a Twisted Wonderland, los otros Yuus anteriores se le pegaban como pegamento (ya sea preocupados sobre cómo adaptar al nuevo Yuu a este mundo, saber porque seguían apareciendo miembros de su familia en específico, si su mama/papa estaba bien, si los estaban buscando en su mundo, etc.), por lo que cuando llega Yuu! Parent a la mezcla, los niños se le pegan como garrapatas.

Yuu!Parent esta tan confundido sobre tantas cosas del mundo de Twisted Wonderland ¿Cómo que la moneda es diferente? ¿Qué es Magicam? ¡¿PORQUE HAY UN GATO CON OREJAS DE FUEGO QUE HABLA EN LA CASA?!

Definitivamente Yuu!Parent se asusta de varias cosas al principio (Lilia quiso ir a saludarlos de su forma típica, de cabeza, y recibió un golpe de sarten en toda la cara), por más que Yuu!Parent quiera proteger a sus hijos ahora que los vuelve a tener al alcance, tendrá que aceptar que no está capacitado para siquiera estar en ese mundo, ellos si, tienen la experiencia, por lo que los niños tendrán que guiarle de poquito a poquito.

El primer aspecto con el que Yuu!Parent se hace familiar es con el dinero, las leyes, etc. Cosas para poder ser un ciudadano “normal” dentro de TWST, y por lo menos darle una mano a sus hijos en aspectos académicos. Hablando de eso, los Yuus no dejan de hablar de su padre/madre, tanto que es casi agotador, ya sea de como el dormitorio nunca había estado tan limpio, o cuando uno de ellos saca una buena nota después de una sesión de estudio con Yuu!Parent, o trayendo a la cafetería bentos caseros que claramente Yuu!Parent hizo. Simplemente están tan felices de volver a tener un sentido de normalidad.

Grim definitivamente asusto mucho la primera vez a Yuu!Parent. Después pensaron que era un gato doméstico (para su indignación), y ahora oficialmente está recibiendo el tratamiento de hijo, ósea, no mas atún después de las 11, debe estar en su cama antes de las 12, debe ponerse un suéter en temporada de invierno para no resfriarse, y a cambio recibirá su comida casera. Grim actuara rudo, pero ama la atención y los mimos.

Yuuken sigue tratando de ser el hombre de la casa, pero se ha relajado considerablemente en un extremo, no siendo tan estricto consigo mismo, y por otro lado siendo mucho mas protector con Yuu!Parent debido al contexto. Este es un mundo aun mas peligroso del que vienen, no solo eso, sino que Yuu!Parent no tiene idea de donde están parados, por lo que Yuuken es bastante atento en caso de que alguien intente aprovecharse de eso.

Yuuka, de forma similar a Yuuken, se relaja considerablemente cuando Yuu!Parent esta cerca, es casi como un interruptor, cuando Yuu!Parent no esta, vuelve a su yo casi intimidante, pero nunca es asi cuando su padre/madre esta cerca por alguna razón. Definitivamente quien trata de ayudar con los mandados y le enseña a Yuu!Parent algunas cosas de la cultura de TWST.

Yuuta esta tan feliz de volver a cocinar con Yuu!Parent después de tantos meses de angustia, que probablemente la primera vez que lo hacen estando en TWST ambos lloran, simplemente muy abrumados por la felicidad de estar todos juntos otra vez. Yuuta probablemente le cuenta a Yuu!Parent varias de las aventuras que tuvieron (junto a Yuuna), aun si trata de quitar los detalles mas aterradores para no espantar a Yuu!Parent (o hacer que mate a Crowley tan pronto…).

Yuuna directamente llora en cuanto ve a Yuu!Parent en NRC, esta tan feliz de verle, pero por otra parte siente que es injusto que lo que sea que los haya traído a TWST también haya robado a su padre/madre, pero es consolada rápidamente por Yuu!Parent. Suelen pasar el tiempo paseándose por NRC/Twisted Wonderland en general, comprando ropa, probando comida, practicando trucos con Grim y tratando de ponerse al día con sus vidas.

Cuando llegaron a Twisted Wonderland, el dormitorio destartalado nunca se había sentido tan hogareño, incluso cuando legaron todos los hermanos, pero ahora sí, lleno de risas, chistes, ruido. AHORA SI es un hogar.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[radiance1]

Vlad Masters has died.

Or at the very least, that is what the upper class was lead to believe. Could you blame them? His death was wildly convincing, and the thing was.

No one knew who would inherit Vladco and his fortune.

As far as they knew, Masters never had any heirs to speak of at all. Not even an illegitimate child, or a foster care. He doesn't even have relatives that the fortune and company could go to.

So, safe to say, they were quite looking forwards to what would happen to the company. Would it sink, or stay afloat?

Now, normally, Damian wouldn't have cared a single bit about what would happen. But seeing as he is forced to go to an event held at the very dead Vlad Masters' mansion, he thinks he should have the right to see what'll happen.

The company's various stockholders were all gathered together, as well as Lex Luthor and other rich upper-class individuals. He knows that Vlad and Lex didn't like each other very well, so he thinks that Lex Luthor may or may not be backing the biggest current stockholder so that he'll have a say in the man's company when they take over.

Honestly, the event was pretty boring. He thought there would be... more, happening. Considering the context of this event.

So, he leaves. He's really just exploring to stave off his boredom, but if he found Vlad Masters' secrets before his death, well. Might as well, really.

He comes upon a room filled wall to wall with merchandise that screamed Masters was a packers fan before his death. Quite the large one at that as well. He picked up one item just to take a look at it, it wasn't something he was too interested in, but it was sort of impressive.

He turned when he heard the door open behind him, and saw a girl that was probably around his age staring at him with concern.

The thing is, she wasn't dressed like a guest. Or even a maid. She was dressed like a poor person.

So obviously he thought she was breaking in to find things to steal and sell off.

"I'm telling dad you tried stealing his packers merch." And with that, the girl was off, and Damian found himself running after her.

Why?

Boredom.

But also, father? He genuinely considers who she was talking about, clearly it couldn't have been anyone participating in the event, so was he also another thief that wanted to steal from Masters?

What sort of thief reveals they have another roaming around where they're stealing from? And their blood relation at that?

He realized that they were running towards where all the guests were gathered, and Damian thought that this girl was either lost, or genuinely didn't know what she was doing.

"Dad! Some kid is trying to steal your merchandise!" Said the girl, slamming open the doors and causing the attention of everyone present to fall directly on her as she paused.

Damian couldn't see it, but he thinks she's quite stupefied in that moment, paused on her pause. It was completely, and utterly quiet for a moment as the guests stared at her, and she stared back.

However, the next moment. The very detailed coffin laying in the center of the room suddenly swung itself open with a great pillar of green fire that reached the ceiling, causing his attention to switch over to it.

He saw lines on the floor around the coffin, lines that he previously ignored as some kind of design choice.

Lines that were filled with a liquid none to dissimilar to Lazarous Water.

A hand reached out of the coffin. "WHO DARES TO TOUCH MY PRECIOUS MERCHANDISE!?" And from beyond the grave the previously dead now arisen body of Vlad Masters pulled himself out of his own coffin, with inhumane red eyes.

So. Damian came to two conclusions that night.

One, Vlad Masters may or may not have had ties with the League of Assassins in some way, leading to his now ressurection.

Two, Vlad Masters has a daughter that was extremely well hidden from basically everyone present at the gathering and, maybe even the world at large.

[haine-kleine]

after sitting with my thoughts about the epilogue for some time, I think the thing that broke the story had started right after Dabi's dance. said thing is LOV' utterly out of character treatment of each other and Shigaraki specifically.

them just standing there and passively observing the scene makes absolutely zero sense, if you use anything from their previously established relationships within the organisation for reference. especially with All for One's creepy comments. Spinner even points out shortly before this chapter that AFO!Shigaraki seems nothing like his normal self and this person is not the one he had chosen to follow.

and yes, Spinner does approach screaming Shigaraki and tries to help him, and his concern later leads him to seeing Shigaraki's mutated form in the cave, and on its own this development for Spinner is in line with his character and all around fine. pretty reminiscent of Toga and Twice, too.

(except Spinner is not allowed to really help Shigaraki in any way, unlike Toga was allowed to help Twice, and this entire thing between Shigaraki and Spinner only ends with Spinner's regrets and survivor's guilt instead of anything good or meaningful that isn't meaningless angst porn)

it isn't Spinner approaching Shigaraki that is the issue, it's the other's complete lack of action or even reaction besides appearing mildly disturbed. this is simply out of character for all of them, just judging by Twice's example who had similar breakdowns and wasn't plainly ignored by the others until his fit stops. this reaction makes even less sense, when you take into account the current state of the League. Twice had just been murdered by Hawks, the double agent who had infiltrated the League via Dabi, and Mister Compress had just sacrificed himself to give the League a chance for escape, and was sent to Tartarus immediately after his condition was no longer life threatening. Kurogiri is also being held captive by the heroes. there are only four of them left, with two dead and two captured. and none of them even mention the dead or the captured outside of the context of Kurogiri and his quirk.

this straight out makes no sense if you look back to the Overhaul arc and remember how far Shigaraki and the rest of them were willing to go to avenge Magne's death and Mr Compress' destroyed arm. this was important.

the event had motivated Shigaraki to be a better leader, because he had realized these people depend on him, and he won't let them be hurt under his protection. it had started the seed of self-doubt in Jin which would eventually grow to the desperation that allowed him to overcome the mental block against his quirk in the MVA arc, because he wanted to do everything he possibly could to help the League. it allowed him to make his clones despite the crippling trauma, because he saw Toga's hurt, bleeding body, and he didn't want her to die.

even fucking Giran, a broker whose very profession requires him to care about himself and his own well-being first and foremost, had sacrificed all of his fingers to prevent Redestro from getting his hands on the League. because he wants to protect them, to save them. and then we never actually see his mutilated hands or hear anything from him ever again.

and when Twice actually dies? all we get in response to that are two upset faces from Dabi and Toga's fury. that's it.

i really want to stress how out of character this barely-present reaction is, because Magne's example is right there and when Overhaul had killed her, the League knew each other for no longer than a month. this League has been together for at least half a year, had been through thick and thin together, had spent months on the run, homeless, having no one but each other to rely on, has defeated the Meta Liberation Army, quite literally, with the power of their friendship. they all cared enough about each other and Shigaraki specifically to stay with him during those months they had to fight Gigantomachia with barely any breaks for rest, still homeless, barely scraping by. it was imperative that they all survive through this together, especially for Shigaraki, who had went on this quest of getting stronger at least partly so that he would become a more reliable protector for the League. and when Twice falls victim to the hero who had murdered him in cold blood, because no one except for Dabi was there to save him, Shigaraki doesn't even get to react to Twice's death, and possibly never even learns about the fact.

on topic of Dabi, his reaction being exactly two frames of sad expressions and including the footage of Twice's murder into his broadcast, and ending immediately after that, also makes no sense. Dabi is someone who holds himself accountable and despite his declarations, cares about the League, it's the very reason he was keeping Hawks from the League and sprinted to Twice as soon as he realized Hawks' intentions with him, to protect him. Dabi's unsuccessful attempt to save Twice is another iteration of Overhaul, a combination of Shigaraki and Twice's roles in the tragedy. but unlike Shigaraki, who had steeled himself into taking care of his subordinates and becoming a responsible and strong leader, or Twice who had never forgotten about his role in the incident, Dabi just somehow forgets about the entire thing as soon as the first war is over. Toga is the one whom the narrative allows to actively react to Twice's death and express her grief. it makes sense that her reaction would be the strongest, as she was the closest with Twice, but why are two LOV members no longer allowed to care about the same incident at the same time? why aren't they allowed to protect each other anymore, when Giran, who is not even in the League, had made that sacrifice for them?

These are pretty small things, but it's these instances of Toga and Dabi preventing Machia from being injected with the sedative, protecting the League that are sorely missing in the second war.

and the biggest act of devotion and protection to the League, which was the last time we saw anything like this for them, Mister Compress' last moments with the League.

Mutilating his own body just to buy them five seconds to possibly escape. Because he loved the League, because he wanted all of them to be happy and achieve their dreams, to be free, and to live.

and in return for the favour, not only do they not come back for him like they did for Kurogiri (because his quirk is important for the plot, while Compress' isn't), but none of them mention Compress ever again. same with Twice (with the exception of Toga), same with Magne. from this point onwards, none of them are allowed by the plot to even care about the League of Villains. the interpersonal relationships between two individuals still shine through, occasionally, like Spinner's devotion to Shigaraki (and him alone), Dabi and Toga's pyromaniac trauma lane visit to her house and him giving her Twice's blood, Kurogiri reaching out to Shigaraki in the very end. but what about the League? ahd what about the dead members of the League, or Mister Compress?

somehow, at the point of the final war it boils down to the generalized conflict of heroes vs villains and the morality gymnastics involved in the concept. on its own, this would have been an okay development, if the examples the story was using to prove its point weren't people who had become very close friends and who had lost four people to this war against the heroes.

if the individual conflicts, like Toga's desperation to be acknowledged as human being deserving of affection, Dabi's familial abuse trauma and Shigaraki's lifelong manipulation by All for One not giving him any chance to be saved at all, were the finishing line of the villains' story development, why join them within the League at all? LOV is a separate concept functioning as a collective uniting all these villains, giving them a place to belong and people who give a fuck whether they live or die. except not anymore, because for some reason after the first war this concept is scratched completely.

so why not make them mere acquaintances who sometimes collaborate to bother the heroes together, if the bond between them got in the way of the story and wasn't the point of the story? why prove the depth of their bond with the Overhaul and My Villain Academia arcs? why make Shigaraki develop relationships and a sense of responsibility for these people at all, if in the very end his desire to save these people is denied by the author himself?

the previous arcs have spent a great deal of effort establishing that the villains are human too. they have human feelings, human desires and human relationships. so why is it that in the final arc their ability to experience human emotions towards each other is turned on and off manually by the author? at the very end even the author stops pretending like anything happening to the villains is evaluated on the scale of human experiences (unlike the heroes, whose injuries and deaths are talked about and mourned in great detail) and Kurogiri and Shigaraki are wiped out like plot inconveniences rather than important and well written characters.

honestly? it's ironically meta that the story ended up proving the very point it has spent 400 chapters arguing against.

[asmimir]

Your art reminded of how the Unholy Alliance update made me go from very on the vence about Narinder to biggest Narinder defender will die in the trenches for my wife /hj

Like personally, them finally giving us the reasoning behind the Bishops attack on Narinder beyond vague prophecy changed a lot of the context behind the situation

And while, yes, the intentions behind his actions of resurrecting followers and his opinion on his new find extreme popularity were left quite vague (and why I don't if someone still interprets Narinder as the one mainly/equally at fault). It still doesn't change how it was a betrayal out of the Bishops fear of a possible betrayal. He wasn't conquering and overtaking them, he wasn't actively starving them, they just feared that possibility that he would.

It gets even more fucked up when you remember that all the Bishops ran their faiths by gifting and blessings their followers with the opposite of their domains (food, heath, etc) so Narinder actions where probably completely normal thing to do as a god of death in his mind, like.

In my fucked up fantasies (aka my interpretations of the canon), Narinder was only truly in the wrong when they asked the Lamb to sacrifice themselves. But getting into even more personal headcanons territory, for him it was likely just the natural/necessary think to do. He's a god of death that gave this little mortal life so they could do his bitting (that included them doing their own sacrifices, depending on your own gameplay), them sacrificing themselves was likely a given for him. Probably didn't consider that the Lamb would mind it, like, sacrificing yourself for your god just another tuesday in the life of a follower of death aint I right

So in conclusion, narilamb before post-game was a classic case of doomed yaoi/hurt people hurt people. Narinder asked the sacrifice-survivor to be sacrificed once again and the Lamb betrayed the one who was betrayed in return (pun half-intended)

(Really sorry for the ramble, it's almost midnight in my country and your art plagued me with thoughts. Hope you at least liked reading my deranged screams, I mean, my interpretations of the story. If you didn't, again, Im truly sorry. But Im still interested in your own thoughts regardless, so yeah... feel free to share??? I don't know how to phrase that in a good way, again, its almost midnigh)

no truer words have been said

[pia-nor481]

Lando norris nsfw alphabet

A- Aftercare (what are they like after sex)

I feel as though it’s very dependent on his mood, sometimes it’s a little chaotic running around grabbing water and rushing to the shower, where other times is just soft pillow talk and cuddles.

B- Body part ( their favourite body part of theirs and their partner)

In my mind he favours his hands due to their size, maybe a little bit of a size kink. He enjoys the difference and perhaps how one can cover most of her throat, or how he could easily grasp both of his partner’s wrists together

While on his partner, we know he likes ass so I don’t know what you expected. However, I feel like he might also really like tits, but keeps it a secret because it’s considered “childish” by some (mainly in the uk). In a less sexual sense, I believe he’d really love his partner’s eyes, whether it be staring at them, or how you can tell so much emotion from them.

C- Cum (anything to do with cum)

I don’t know why I get the feeling that he cums a lot in one go. Anyway I think he’d like to pull out and cum on his partner, whether that be tits, thighs or stomach etc. But if can cum inside he definitely would, this would be a main factor in deciding the type of aftercare given.

D- Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He may or may not have jacked off to a normal voice note of his partner. The context wasn’t even sexual, he just missed hearing their voice and was very horny.

E- Experience (how experienced are they?)

Is it bad I don’t think he has that much experience? We don’t know about many ex girlfriends. But I think he likes to fuck a lot, so he would be very experienced in pleasuring just his partner after learning (being taught) what gets them off.

F- Favourite position

I think we can all agree he likes doggy, but not for the reasons as most men ((boys) bc a man would never!)) He really wants to be able to see his partner’s face and reactions to what he is doing, he likes the ego boost. Plus I think he likes spanking, not too hard in this specific position, just a few light taps and some groping.

But cowgirl gets an honourable mention, as mentioned above he does like tits so getting so stare at them really gets him off

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment?)

Very dependent on the lead up. There are times where sex just has inconvenient moments; struggling to take clothes off so that just leads him to resting his head on his partner’s shoulder, letting out a sigh then a little chuckle. Or maybe a time where he’s just hard, not for any specific reason and asks (begs) for his partner to get him off, and he’s all giddy about it, so it’s just laughs in between moans and groans. On the other hand, I think there are times where he’s very serious , mostly when sex is on the rougher side or post race. Maybe even on an anniversary or special occasion he’d try to be much more serious. But in general I don’t think he’d actually make a joke, or at least not on purpose.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

I’ll be honest, I think it’s a little darker than the hair on his head. I don’t think lando is clean shaven (now that he actually has pubic hair), he tries to keep it quite short though, but sometimes he gets a bit busy and so neglects the length and doesn’t trim it. But I think he may refrain from blow jobs at this time and opts to fuck his partner’s tits instead. Separate thing, but, I think he also has Sunday everything showers on non-race weeks.

I- Intimacy ( how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I think a mix of both as he’s a very horny man so sometimes he rushes for pleasure, yet other times he likes to be slow and passionate, making love not fucking. He would really like to take his time, traveling from room to room, spending lots of time feeling up his partner.

J- Jack off ( masturbation headcanon)

I think he masturbates a lot, a few times a week and I think it would be roughly at the same time of day as well. But he can’t just sit there, he needs material!! Whether that be just pics or short videos in his ‘my eyes only’. Again let me mention the voice notes, he does think it’s bit strange how much he liked it, and how quick he came. But he would much prefer phone calls where he’s limited to just his girlfriend’s voice. Almost teasing himself. And her

K- Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned above size and voice.

But he really likes control and being dominant. He knows that dominance isn’t just position. He knows how to dominate without putting in any of the physical work

Sensory deprivation- so blindfolds, mainly again as he really likes control (as said in some interview) and he knows not being able to see will heighten your other senses so he would talk/whisper a lot more and be more feather light with touches. This idea can also tie in with the only phone calls not face time

Impact play- again linked to dominance, I think of this of being very specific and planed out. It doesn’t happen just because he got hard 10 minutes ago, but this is specifically reserved for non-race weekends. Mainly trying new toys, whether it be a crop or any object. Maybe just his hands. I think a lot of this is exploring based; testing different areas like the very top of the thighs, instead of just the ass. He always makes notes (during the sex in his head, then after maybe in a book as that can’t get leaked) but this started with a lot of communication to prevent any real injuries, making sure to use a safe word system (I imagine the traffic light system as it fits best) and ensuring that he only hits fatty areas not where organs reside. He wants to play yet it must be safe or it isn’t fun.

Katoptronophilia- mirrors. I believe that he likes to make his girlfriend watch what he’s doing to her as well as see the pleasure he’s giving her. It’s like a power rush as well as a sense of accomplishment/ achievement.

L- Location (favourite place)

Definitely bedroom. This is mainly due to privacy, but I also think it’s because he’s not very tall, so perhaps his hips aren’t high enough for counter sex. I’m not sure though, I may have tested it ( for context when I’m on my tiptoes I’m almost his height and my hips were not above the kitchen counter.) but tables I think he’d like, as well as bending her over the sofa or in the bathroom sink in front of the mirror.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

I think most things would turn him on, but I think being challenged would give him motivation to put his girlfriend in her place. Also, just generally intimate/ domestic situations

N- No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Probably watersports etc but to be honest I don’t know with him. To me I think most people don’t really like that, or at least won’t say they do.

Electro stimulation- it just seems a bit too scary

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill)

He’s a man so will probably prefer receiving, but he would really enjoy eating his girlfriend out for a sense of pride. However, I feel as though you may have to teach him a little, like he knows what he’s supposed to do but may struggle with actual delivery, but he’s so willing to learn, all smiles. We should take into consideration that he is an athlete so his breath control will be amazing.

P- Pace (are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

Not to be repetitive, but, it will depend on the situation. However, I believe he leans more on the rough side, I don’t have evidence but I stand with that opinion. Furthermore, he’s likes to be rough due to the power and trust it gives him.

But he usually isn’t particularly fast as he’s been informed (generally speaking on the internet) that women will say harder but a man would go faster and they wouldn’t like it. (I know that’s super generalised but he would definitely listen and do what would give her pleasure) he likes research and found some study that wearing socks can make women cum harder and immediately suggested it.

As mentioned before he likes to make love, so winter or summer breaks are reserved for kinky fucks and sensual love making. I rest my case

Q- Quickie (their opinions, how often etc)

He absolutely loves them. He gets horny very quickly and so would want a release as quick as possible. Also the convenience of his drivers room allows for quickies all the time, pre and post race. But if he’s at home he’ll want long and more passionate sex

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

If it’s not a hard no he’ll probably try it at least once, but he also must worry about his career. Although he really wants to fuck publicly, he can’t take that risk

S- Stamina (how many rounds can they go for)

Again he’s an athlete so can go for long periods of time yet I don’t think he could cum more than twice in one go. He can definitely cum many times in the same day, but he needs a few hours break. But he will make the time he’s fucking his girlfriend as long as possible.

T- Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves)

He knows toys are his friend not his enemy (as told by the bathtub toys thing.) Anyway, I think he once bought a vibrator when he was single just because he saw some men talk about how amazing the orgasm felt and he would have really enjoyed it, but always cums way to fast for his liking, he wants to last longer than three minutes. He will definitely use toys on his partner, whether that be a dildo or vibrator of some kind. He also really wants to try hand cuffs but he feels as though he needs to build up to it, as such a physical restraint can be quite a mental strain; so he decides to try it with just paper first so she could very easily get out it she wanted to, then tried those silicone “cuffs” for the same reason. Then finally used metal ones with a lock. But he will always cuff her hands in front of her.

U- Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

I think verbally he teases A LOT. But physically not too much. He may deny the orgasm once or twice before letting her actually cum. But foreplay will be quite lengthy, he wants to slowly drag his hands along her thighs or only push his cock in 2 inches before pulling out fully.

V- Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

I think he will always be making noise just not overly loud. Always groaning and moaning (thank you for the twitch streams) he can be completely quiet, except for heavy breathing, if he really needed to.

W- Wild card (a random headcanon)

I think, at some point, he bought one of those moulds to make your own dildo. Just the thought of his girlfriend fucking herself with a silicone version of his cock really gets him going. Along with those remote control vibrators. He would love them especially when she can’t be at a race and so he can make her cum when he’s on the other side of the world. (I didn’t know that was possible until the other day) it’s just so hot to him.

X- X-ray (how big are they?)

You know what they say about the skinny ones. He’s either very long and is relatively thin. Or average length but girthy as fuck. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think his tip is pink/ red ish. I’m totally basing this off the colour of his lips. But you know. Just a thought.

Y- yearning (how high is their sex drive)

This man is so horny. 8 or 9/10

Z- Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

I don’t think very quick, unless it’s been a super long session, but even then he’d make sure his girlfriend is situated before daring to fall asleep. He likes cuddles so expect to be in his arms for as long as possible.

If you have any other ideas/ headcanons please comment. I really want to see other people’s opinions.

[divinepoints]

hii could i please request john walker + "can you just be nice to them, for once?" / "can't. i only save that for you." (#67)

your wish is my command!

wc: 949

prompt: john walker + "can you just be nice to them, for once?" / "can't. i only save that for you."

You didn’t think you were asking John for much. Thirty seconds of neutrality, if he couldn’t manage fake niceties. At this point, you would even settle for absolute ignorance. You’d long ago tired of his deeply unnecessary and entirely unexplained but plainly obvious dislike of your friends. Your very plain, very civilian friends. Frankly, you just didn’t get it. They weren’t threats and they didn’t even flinch away from him like some of the public did. At least, not until he started behaving as though they were the bane of his existence.

You would freely admit that you snapped. Spat at him a little more vitriolic than you’d truly intended, “Can you just be nice to them, for once?”

It was moments after your friends had left for the day. A supremely awkward goodbye spearheaded by John’s entrance and subsequent open and obvious glaring.

He’d responded sarcastically. Smugly. “Can’t. I only save that for you.”

Even if he didn’t know it, he was moments away from being throttled. You wanted to be clear: you were not being inconsiderate. Long before you’d begun inviting friends over to the tower, you’d asked everyone if they would mind. No one had, and no one did. Except for John, suddenly. The very same John who’d told you he couldn’t care less who you brought over as long as it wasn’t while his kid was there. It appeared things had changed.

If he’d had a reason, you’d have been a considerate housemate and stopped bringing them around. But he hadn’t, even when you’d asked the first time, supplied any reason for his out-of-nowhere hatred towards your only normal friends. (You’d also asked if it was because they were normal, and he’d outright laughed.) Now, you were close to truly losing it. You were tired of the childish behavior. If he had a true problem, he needed to come out with it.

“Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked.

John shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, crunched down on it, and you began to consider individually removing every single one of his teeth without anesthesia. He just looked at you for a moment, analyzing. Eyes narrowed, but still teeth still crunching on popcorn. Then, all at once, frowned deeply at you.

“You let them walk all over you,” he said. “I don’t get it.”

Fairly dumbstruck, you could only manage to ask, “What?”

“Been trying to figure it out,” he continued. “Thought maybe you were trying to get at something. Information. I don’t know. But you’re not.” You just stared at him so he continued. “You walk around here busting balls, but you turn into some kind of… mouse when they’re around.” You resented the accusation that you were a mouse in any context. Though you opened your mouth to argue just that point, John seemed to be on a roll. “You do all this shit you’d never choose to do yourself, go to these places that they could never get into without you, even though you hate being there. You’re letting them use you.”

Arguments died on your tongue. Caught in your throat. You had them in the front of your mind, dozens of them in fact, but they were all trapped somewhere. Mostly, you were foggy over one thing: you hadn’t realized he was paying that much attention. Puzzle pieces slotted together jarringly. It all made some odd kind of sense now. The glares at them, all of which tended to turn into some kind of weirdly sickly looking expression at you. Snippy comments about where you were going, what you were doing.

“I don’t—” you began, but a refusal was wrong. You did know they were using you, and that was just fine for your purposes. Because John was right about another thing, you did have some kind of ulterior motive. He just hadn’t quite nailed what it was. “I know that.”

It seemed his speech was the next to die. You weren’t surprised. He was probably trying to figure out what awful thing had happened in your piss-poor life that made you willingly offer yourself up to the sharks. 

“They’re normal,” you supplied. “Actually normal. They’ve lived supremely boring lives. I’m trying to see what that’s like.” A serene calm expression seemed to fold over John’s face. Almost like you’d dissipated every worry he’d once had. “I’m using them too.”

Just as easily as the calm expression came, it vanished. His brow furrowed, his bag of popcorn crumpled slightly in his closed fist. He tried for casual with his follow-up. Attempted to appear unconcerned. But just like he noticed how you seemed to be faking interest for your friends, you noticed he seemed to be feigning disinterest when he asked, “You thinking about leaving or something?”

It might have been fair to toy with him, after everything he’d put you through. At the same time, it seemed like he’d been coming mostly from a place of concern for you. 

“No,” you said. As much as you liked to play around on the other side, you knew you weren’t built for that kind of life. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction to play at civilian life, but mostly you missed the chaos. You didn’t love the hurt and the bloodshed, but it would have taken death itself to pull you from your team. “Just seeing how the other half lives.”

John gave a nod that was both single and singular. It somehow carried more meaning than you’d have expected. “Good. Need to keep you around.”

You smiled slightly to yourself only after he’d turned his back.

The next time your friends visited the tower, he said nothing.

want a drabble? hit my inbox with a thunderbolts guy & a prompt from this list.

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | 18+ only

tags : long fic, porn with plot, prince!xavier x knight!reader, separate from the lightseeker era we know and more of a different royal au, slight angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn ish, mutual yearning, slight miscommunication (well it's xavier…), still has soft fluffy moments though, use of "my prince" "my liege" "your highness" from reader, kisses, first time, oral (f. receiving), heavy petting, vaginal sex, overall soft sex and very vanilla moments, slight use of pet names "angel" and "my queen" towards the end from xavier.

IMPORTANT - this is part 2 because apparently tumblr has a 1000-block limit that won't let me post the entire fic in one whole post...... so please see this link for part 1, or the full fic on AO3 !!

wc : 19.8k total / part 1 - 12.3k / part 2 - 7.5k

an : a tumblr continuation; this is still for @xavmc-week days 1 (knight x royalty), 2 (firsts), and 3 (moon/stars)! note that this is not really a standalone, and does work better with the context from part 1 <3

taglist to be reblogged : SIGN UP HERE

ko-fi jar / commissions

With a single word and a gentle touch, you turned a moment into forever.

Like many things between the two of you, it became routine.

One kiss, and then the second—it happened just the next night. Just as quiet, just as soft, just as gentle.

You hadn’t expected it, not really. You'd wished for it, sure, but you fully believed it to be a one-time-thing—

It wasn't.

Because that next night, he'd invited you in again. Another cup of tea, more idle chatter, something normal—

And then he walked you to the door.

Again.

He stood a moment long, and then you knew, and when his lips brushed yours in another sweet, sweet kiss, you could feel your heart soaring.

Again.

That night, there were still no words exchanged. Just a small, shy, mutual smile, and then the door closing softly behind you.

And after that, it became a rhythm. A routine. He would find you in quiet hallways with an unspoken glance; you would fall into step beside him without hesitation. Sometimes your hands brushed as you walked—accidental at first, then not so accidental. A ghost of a touch. A curl of fingers, before either of you would still remember to pull away.

And some nights, you'd wait by the door, unsure if you'll be invited in again But every time, the door still opened before you could knock.

Some nights, he would still be dressed in formal attire, a little disheveled, a little distracted, a little tired. Other nights, he was comfortable to be in less—a simple linen shirt, maybe even sleep clothes. His sleeves were always rolled to the forearm; gaze was always more relaxed.

Still, always handsome.

And you never really quite talked about the kisses. About the affection, the comfort, the—whatever this was.

They just happened. Folded into the end of each evening, like clockwork—like punctuation.

A kiss by the door. A hand brushing your wrist. A touch on the small of your back as you passed him a folded report.

It took 21 days to form a habit, but sometimes you'd think that this even took less—that was how natural it was. You could breathe, and you would breathe him in. Enough so for you to dream lighter, now. You'd to sleep with the tingle of his lips; wake up with the memory of it.

Naturally, of course, the court remained unaware. In whatever had pulled you close like this, you were still able to keep a straight face around the others. The guards still spoke of it as nothing, and if anyone noticed the way your gazes lingered longer than they should, then they didn't seem to dare touch on the matter in the first place.

It was enough, at least. For you. For him, hopefully.

And then night after night, as the castle settled into quiet and the corridors dimmed to a warm glow, you returned to him.

Always to him.

And you wished, deep in your heart, that it would always last forever.

&—

Of course it didn't.

A bond built in secret—how long, truly, could that last?

You kept your head down when you first heard it.

The palace walls were thin—decidedly so. You'd never cared for it, not before, but now it meant something. Words seeped through the cracks; like vines on a wall, winding, and winding, and—

Choking.

Two noblemen lingered in the corridor. Their voices were low, but not low enough. You could make out, still, what they were saying.

“A match with the House would secure the borderlands for a generation.”

“Well, I believe he’ll fall in line. He has no choice, if it's for the Kingdom.”

“But they say he’s taken to spending time with his knight, that woman. I'd heard she was his personal guard."

"Goodness! Then what would that look like, come delegation day?”

It stung.

You felt the bile build up in your chest, in your throat—

You could throw up.

You almost did.

And you turned, left—your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your limbs tense as you walked. You couldn't bear to hear any more.

It had been weeks.

One, or two—but more than enough for you to live in that pretty little illusion, and now it was time to stop it.

Xavier hadn't told you.

Just last night, you'd shared another soft little kiss—that one was longer than most, you almost stayed.

Almost.

Almost.

But he hadn't told you.

And how long had there been talks of this? How long had he been betrothed to a noble girl? How long had he known? Could he kiss you, still, despite all of this being said? Could he be with you, nightly, despite the arrangements being made for his hand?

When you entered your room, you went straight for your bed. Sat in it in silence, hung your head down in disdain.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Even in its absence, your armor weighed heavy. Right on your heart.

It was the weight of what you were.

You didn't go to him, that night. Not this, not the next, not the nights even after. And each evening that you'd steeled yourself not to knock on his door, a part of you ached like you'd gone too long holding your breath.

Because you'd never even spoken of what you were.

Never defined those soft, goodnight kisses, the brushing of fingers when no one looked, the stolen moments of laughter, of shared glances—things that warmed you, comforted you, made you feel… safe.

For you, it had been enough.

Just spending time with him like that, it had been enough.

Until it wasn't.

And still, you couldn't quite pretend that you hadn't seen it coming.

Xavier moved differently, now. His shoulders were tense in court, his eyes flicking towards you from across the room more often, as though checking to see if you'd still be there. You noticed it. It was hurting him as much as you, you could see it. You knew him well enough. Still, despite the secrets, you knew him well enough.

But this distance was necessary.

If 15 centimeters had shortened into 5, had dissolved into nothingness—

It had grown, since even longer.

15 centimeters to 20, to 30. To one foot, then two—a meter, then more.

The space between you had grown, even when physically, you were only just a few paces apart at all.

And it just had to be that way.

It had to be that way.

So why were you crying?

Why, then, where you turning down this corridor—were you heading to his chambers—

Why, then, was it so difficult to leave?

It was the fourth night, like this. Habitual movements. Heart thrumming with an ache that pulsed at your throat.

You were there before you could think; in front of the door, closed, that you were so familiar with.

Your hand lifted—

You didn't knock.

"This is stupid," you murmured, a pained whisper beneath your breath.

And then—

"…Is that what you think?"

Your heart stopped.

You didn't need to turn to see who had spoken, but—

You did, anyway.

Slowly, guiltily. You turned, let your eyes fall onto his figure, immediately falling into those blue, blue eyes…

Immediately finding that they weren't, now, as bright as you had known them to be.

"I… I wasn't…"

You tried to speak, but your words fell short. You'd forgotten how, almost. 21 days to form a habit, and it had been even less for it to break.

He stepped forward. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

"I didn't mean to…"

"But you’ve barely looked at me.”

Because I can't.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced away, let out a bitter exhale.

“Because… Because if I do, then I’ll forget what I’m supposed to be. A-and I can't do that."

A knight shouldn't…

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his brow knit, as something flickered in his eyes like a candlelight caught in the wind.

You knew that look.

Pain.

“So, what are you supposed to be?” he muttered.

Like he didn't know, or— like he couldn't admit it.

You hung your head, then. Refused to answer.

Because what were we, then?

"They said something, didn't they."

His tone was softer this time when he tried again, but it was not a question, not this time.

It was a statement.

Yet, still you couldn't raise your head.

“You think I care what the court says? About what they expect of me?”

"That's not it, I just…"

You shut your eyes tightly.

Well, you had to speak, didn't you?

"I think," you whispered then, slowly, "that you were born with a crown on your head, and I… was born to guard it. And it makes all the difference, Your Highness. Because roles like that… really just don't overlap."

When you say things out loud, it feels a little more real.

Unfortunately for you, that was exactly the case with even this. And maybe, then, it was why things had to fall apart so quickly.

You'd never spoken what you had out loud.

Xavier stepped closer.

Tentative.

The smell of him, then—clean sheets, warm parchment, something grounding—it hit you like a memory.

“You’ve kissed me every night for a week,” he murmured. “You’ve sat beside me in silence, you’ve laughed at my terrible impressions of the court’s musicians, you’ve been more than just duty—more than any of it, long before either of us dared say it.”

You held your breath.

“And now you look at me like you’re afraid to hope.”

"…Because, Your Highness. I am."

In that moment, your voice broke.

“Because this—whatever we are, I— i-it won’t survive a noble’s daughter, with silk hems and land attached to her name, and… and peace."

You still couldn't look at him. You closed your eyes, again, tried not to think about throwing up, tried not to think about how tense you were.

���I'm just a knight, Your Highness, and I serve you. You’ll have to marry. You’ll be expected to bed someone else, kiss someone else, share everything with someone else and pretend like I was nothing but a childish indulgence—”

"Is that… Is that what you think I see you as?"

You shook your head, but you couldn't trust your words to be of any use.

Your throat closed. Your vision blurred; a stray tear fell away.

You could feel yourself trembling.

And then he reached for you, slowly. His hand brushed against your glove, not taking, but—offering.

Hoping.

Without another word, another beat, you felt him lift up your chin, felt him lean in—

He didn't kiss you, not quite. But he pressed your foreheads together, searched your gaze, pleaded you, if only through actions alone.

"I want to choose you," he said quietly. Barely a whisper, barely a breath.

And somehow, you knew that he did.

But wanting something did not always mean that you could.

Now, at least, you knew that.

"But you can't," you whispered.

And you pulled away, took a step back, and bowed.

"Goodnight, my prince."

&—

Another week.

The corridors of the castle always sounded different at night.

Quieter, yes. But emptier, too. Like something had been there, and left, and taken all the warmth with it.

By now, you'd been avoiding his hall entirely. Formed a new habit—walked the longer path to your quarters, kept your head bowed more respectfully during meetings, left before he could catch your eye.

It simply had to be this way.

And, sure— you missed him.

You missed him in ways you didn't have the language for, in ways you wished you could described if only losing a piece of your soul was easy to describe. Because it wasn't just the shared looks, wasn't just the touches, the kisses goodnight—

You missed his voice. His smile. When they weren't meant for anyone else; when he said your name when no one was listening. These things—all of them—that soon, you knew, would belong to someone else.

That he would belong to someone else.

That he would marry someone else, and— and what could a knight do?

What could you do?

You'd heard it now through whispers, then through the official talks. A name had been floated; a political match that made sense.

And you told yourself that it was always going to end like this. That your role in his life was temporary. Just a secret, soft, guarded secret he'd kept while you both waited for the inevitable… soft around the edges, to be kept and folded away without too much pain.

But it did hurt.

Gods, it hurt.

Everytime you laid to sleep, you pressed your fingers to your lips like an idiot, and wondered if he remembered the last kiss like you did.

If he regretted it.

If he thought that things had stepped too far.

And then one evening, you lingered longer in the armory under the guise of inventory.

The space was dim, your hands were idle. You sat in the corner—you had run the inventory, but that was over now. And in this quiet space, your thoughts were louder than they should have been.

Because fuck it all—it hurt, and you missed him.

You wondered—should you have fought for him?

Should you have dared, even?

So little you could do in your position; so much that you could dream.

You groaned, head in your hands as your knees drew to your chest, and you barely even noticed that the door had opened.

A quiet pad of footsteps.

You raised your head, half-expecting a squire or a steward, but—

It was him.

Xavier.

You swallowed thickly, eyes frozen—

Then, quietly:

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

You could see his shoulders slump in relief a little, as if the mere sight of you had calmed him, as if he'd waited—desperately—for another moment to share with you. While you could do nothing. You watched, stayed still when he moved to sit beside you, a few paces away, respecting the boundary that he knew you'd put up, letting his words hang in the air a little.

"You… stopped coming to say goodnight," he added after a while. Not looking at you, but looking straight ahead.

As if he could scare you with another glance.

"…I, um. Didn't want to be a burden."

"You aren't, though."

You swallowed. You could feel your heart thudding painfully against your ribs. "…Well, they… They said you were meeting her. Next week, right? The… the noblewoman. Your betrothed."

Out of the corner of your eye, his expression flickered.

"Mn, they've arranged a meeting. But she isn't my betrothed. None of this means that I've agreed to anything."

"But you will."

Silence.

You turned.

"You… will, won't you?"

And then your eyes met, again you held your breath, and he gave you a slow, strained smile.

No.

"Your Highness, please, I don't want you to—"

"Do you know?"

He whispered, but it was enough to cut you off.

Your mouth clamped shut.

"Do you know how many times I've looked at the throne room, full of all these people… and only wanted to find your face?"

Your breath caught.

"I never wanted to stop what we had," he mumbled. "I thought you just needed space, so I gave it to you, I didn't mean…"

"But that's not the point, Your Highness. You're to marry, I can't just—"

"I thought you regretted it."

You exhaled slowly. "…Never."

Never.

And this time he drew closer; reached for you, as if so desperate, now, not to have you leave his side again.

How could you ever have it in you to pull back?

"Please," he whispered, "I— I haven't been sleeping."

His voice felt raw; you heard it strain like the way he was trying to keep it together in front of you.

"You… You're my knight, and you've protected me all this time,but you don't have to protect me from heartbreak. Not like this. I don't want it like this. I need you to believe that I can choose it, even if it hurts, and that I'll…"

You closed your eyes. In that moment, listening, you resigned—allowed yourself a moment of selfishness, allowed yourself to lean in, bury your face into his chest.

You heard it, the way his breath hitched.

Slowly his arms wrapped around your figure, questioning, unsure, but so… hopeful.

"I never thought I could belong in your world," you murmured. Your voice was muffled by his clothing. "I still don't know if I do. You're meant to belong to someone else, and I—"

"I don't want someone else."

"…I don't want you to want someone else, either."

He leaned down to rest his chin on top of the crown of your head then, and then there was silence.

Neither of you moved, neither of you said another word.

Right now, you thought you could enjoy it—just another quiet moment for the two of you, another illusion that everything was fine.

&—

The castle had never been louder.

“Did you hear?” said one.

“He turned her down," said another.

“It's a royal scandal!” "What will the court think?!" "Does this mean something for our Kingdom?!"

Word spread fast, as usual.

You'd borne the brunt of it before, but now you were a spectator—curious, at that.

It was today; earlier. Xavier had journeyed to meet up with his betrothed, and you'd purposely kept away from him, but he'd returned with nothing but silence.

You hadn't seen him.

He hadn't sat through his duties, hadn't offered a word to anyone… Not the King, nor you, nor—anyone. Just ridden straight through the gates and disappeared into his chambers without even an escort.

And you had heard all of this in fragments. Snatches of gossip, pieces and bits, a part of the vine that crawled, and crawled, and crawled…

Even your captain had to look up from his reports to ask, "Did you know anything about this?"

You didn't.

You knew nothing.

You didn't know why he’d done it, or what it meant, but—but you had hope that you did. The kind of hope that had you freezing; foggy. Something lodged in your throat, something unspeakable and trembling, and—

You could tell yourself to leave it alone.

You could.

You could.

But you didn't.

And in all manners predictable, by nightfall, you'd found yourself standing right in front of his door again.

It had been so long.

Your fist hovered, uncertain, still—

He'd said no, to a future. A future set out for him, a future that would've made sense, a crown-sanctioned bride that should have been—

He said no to the wishes of his Kingdom.

It was a risk, one unimaginable, even for you.

And you needed to know why .

So you knocked, once.

The door opened almost instantly, as though he’d been waiting, and he looked…

Tired.

Rumpled.

He had no cloak, no gloves, and his shirt remained half-unbuttoned at the collar, like he hadn't even bothered changing since he'd gotten back hours ago. So when your eyes met, for a moment neither of you moved.

Then, quietly, he stepped aside.

“You heard,” he said.

You entered, keeping your gaze on the ground. “The whole castle's heard.”

"… Of course."

He exhaled. A small, tired laugh escaped his lips. And still you wouldn't look at him, but you grasped at his sleeve, and tugged.

"Why?" you whispered.

“Because I couldn’t lie anymore.”

You drew in a breath.

“I thought I could do it,” he muttered. You could hear a dry smile in the way that he spoke. “I thought I could be what they needed, marry who they wanted… But I sat across from her, and all I could think was—she isn’t you.”

He took a slow step towards you; broke that distance in an instant. 15 centimeters? No more.

And every word, every breath, they would still you in your own movements, render you frozen to the spot, but he—

This time, he wouldn't let you.

“I tried to forget. To be noble. To be dutiful.” Another step. “But I’ve been in love with you for so long, and now I know that I wouldn’t know how to stop. I don't know."

You looked up, this time. Slowly, as he drew you in. A hand at your waist, a touch you didn't refuse—a gaze you couldn't look away from.

And, god, you were weak.

"…I like it, when you name things," you whispered back finally. A line that was familiar; memories drawn to that balcony, late at night, but a line you would repeat for yourself to hear. "It makes them feel more real. It makes you feel more real. Not like… Like a star, up in the sky, far too high that I can't dream to reach."

Like, you... have always been too far from me. But, I...

It began with trembling lips.

His hands rose to cup your jaw, and yours fisted gently into the fabric of his shirt—clinging, like you didn’t trust the moment to stay if you let go.

"It is real," Xavier breathed. "It's very, very real. This moment, and us."

And he kissed you.

Your lips met with the soft, inevitable gravity of two people who had always been drifting toward each other; like he had waited for years; like you had only a single remaining language in your heart that existed in the shape of him.

So when his hands began to roam—slow, careful, unhurried—you didn't stop him. You basked in it. The finality of it. It sent a heat heat skimming beneath your skin, and immediately your body responded before you could think, pressing into him as he guided you backwards.

And your name.

God, your name.

You'd never heard it sound so sweet, so loving, not like the way he whispered it between your lips. Every kiss, every movement—your name fell still, like a sigh; a quiet chant, and it made you weak.

The backs of your legs hit his bed, and you let yourself fall.

Into him, and the mattress—into everything and anything that this moment was building up to.

And he kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you—barely spent a second away from you, even as he unfastened your tunic with slow fingers, each button undone like an unspoken confession.

Only when it was off did he pause, sitting back.

You watched his eyes. Saw the awe in them.

Devotion.

Reverence.

"So beautiful," he whispered.

And as you flushed at his response to you, he kissed your jaw, your shoulder, the hollow of your collarbone. Soft, fluttering kisses, down your body, almost enough to have you weeping from the way he did it—like every part of you was worth loving. You'd barely even choked back a sob when he pulled away to undress. Clearly every bit as eager as wanting as you.

And so you froze a moment, drank him in—every golden line of his chest, the way candlelight haloed over the silvery strands of his hair.

You watched, still, as he came down over you. He placed both forearms on either side of your head, and a small smile played at your lips;

He said it again.

"You're so beautiful," he sighed. "Like… an angel."

You didn't know if you wanted to hit him or burrow in embarrassment, but even as your face reddened, that lovesick look on his face rendered you silent.

And this time, he took his time.

He trailed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone—feeling, this time, with the tips of his fingers, as if carefully wanting to leave on you a mark of his own touch.

He moved lower.

His gaze followed where his hands went, dipping down your sides, sliding over to brush beneath your breast. When he stroked over to your belly, you held you breath; when he held your hip and nudged your waistband down, you arched in permission.

And despite how the situation was—despite the way he'd leave you completely bare, despite the inevitable, then that this was leading to—you found that his touches were devoid of any ulterior motive.

His eyes, when he raised them back to yours, were so loving. As if, he wanted to say—even this, now, feels like coming home.

And maybe it was.

Maybe it was, in the way he seeked to explore every little inch of you. The way he traced your skin, meant to memorize every curve. The way every touch, now, built warmth right into you, slow, and steady, and tender, until he knew that you ached for him—possibly, then, in ways you'd never dared to explore before this.

So when he kissed you next, it was gentle.

Intentional, but gentle.

You could feel years of unspoken yearning behind the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he cupped your cheek and dipped the tip of his tongue into your parted lips.

Immediately, naturally—your legs parted, raising to cradle his hips.

Against your bare sex you could feel the friction of his bulge, and you tugged at his hair.

Off, you seemed to plead.

He only looked at you with a smile.

There was a sparkle in his eyes—love, still, and this time a little hint of teasing.

He nuzzled your cheek. "Do you need something?" he murmured.

He'd play the oblivious, innocent rabbit, even now.

"…Xavier," you whispered.

You closed your eyes, brought your lips close to his ear.

"Xavier."

And you had never said his name before. Not without titles, or formal address—

Never just his name.

You heard his breath hitch; felt his grip tighten around your arm.

"You…" He sounded like he was struggling to breathe. You could have sworn you felt him grow, against you.

And perhaps you felt daring, perhaps this was that unabashed, bolder side of you again—

You raised your hips and ground yourself against him, and you nearly trembled at the sound of his moan.

"Xavier," you repeated again, barely even a breath. "Please…"

There was a moment of parting, a moment where he stared, still, before he chuckled and complied. Slowly, articles of clothing bared him to you in turn, and you keened at the way he pressed himself against you once more. Firmer, this time. More sure.

"My angel…" he whispered, running a hand down your cheek before he kissed the place that he'd touched. "You're still here."

"I'll always be here. I don't want… to leave you ever again, Xavier, I…"

"Shhh. You're okay. I have you."

You gasped then, as you felt it.

The head of his cock rubbed deliciously at your entrance—not quite entering, but teasing, so, so, teasing.

Another roll of his hips drew a whimper from you this time, and his eyes glinted with mischief.

"You're enjoying this…" you whined.

He smiled. "Immensely."

And then he raised your hips, slot himself right at your hole, wrapped your legs at his waist—

"Breathe, angel."

The stretch was exquisite.

You felt yourself arching into him, trembling as he took you whole. Inch by inch he slid inside you, rubbing your hips in circles, bringing a hand up to his lips for him to kiss.

You were startled, almost. You could feel every vein, every ridge—every perfection as he filled you, and, all be damned—you wanted him. So, so, incredibly bad.

His hand moved, then, to stroke your side, a gentle, soothing motion as you pulsed and wrapped around him. He leaned in to kiss your temple, your cheek, your lips—as though trying to anchor you there with him.

"Are you okay?" he murmured against your skin. "Still with me?"

You could only nod, your voice too thick with emotion to answer.

His forehead rested against you, fingers threading with yours beside your head.

“You’re shaking,” he nuzzled you.

"I…"

Am I?

You marveled. You hadn't noticed, but you supposed that you were.

"I-I'm just—" You swallowed. “I'm really happy. I didn’t think I’d ever get this… you… us…"

He chuckled, kissed your cheek. "But it feels good, right?"

"Mhm. Real good."

"Can I move?"

You paused, then wrapped your arms around his neck— "Please."

And he did.

He fell against you, braced slightly on his arms, yet when his weight settled—it was grounding.

It was real.

So real, even if you felt you could float, because you felt him.

In, and out. In, and out.

He moved slowly, giving you time, watching your face with every shift of his hips. Every glide sent shivers through you. Every grind of his hips sent a heat sparking your skin.

"Xavier…" you whispered again; moaned. "Oh, god… y-you're so good…"

"Mh? Do you like it?"

He kissed you again, and you breathed him in.

And then you didn't realize you were crying, not until he pulled his lips away, brushed a thumb across your cheek.

"Am I hurting you? Is it too much?" He stilled, a moment, cupped your cheeks to get you to look at him. "You're crying…"

"No, I…"

You sniffled, a little, had to bite your lip a moment before you could continue.

You pulled him close, lifted your hips for him once more.

"D-don't stop, please," you breathed. "I'm just… so… in love with you…"

His eyes, already so tender, seemed to drown in your words, to overflow at the same time with a sense of love that only you could understand in turn.

His hips snapped—jerked, a little, as if spurred to action by the heat of the moment. Deeper, this time, so wonderfully deep. It drew a single, broken gasp from you—half sob, half moan, and he knew.

He did it again.

"…Like that?" he whispered.

Again.

You gripped his shoulders, drew your nails down to his back. "Yes. Yes, please, just like that, Xavier."

And then you had found your rhythm.

Steady, deep, and perfect.

His hands framed your face, kissed your cheeks where the tears had fallen… so much tenderness, and reverence, and devotion, and you believed—

This was how it was supposed to be.

This was how it was meant to be.

And your hands roamed his back, down to his hips, pulling him deeper. "More, please, my prince…"

"Mnnh, but you can't… s-say my title, like I'm not—"

"Xavier."

You moaned his name to placate him, but snuck in a cheeky smile.

"Xavier, my prince, my liege, my—"

You could have squealed at the way he kissed you then.

In a rush to shut you up, perhaps, his kiss had lost much of the gentleness with which he'd been treating you. Deeper, rougher, messier—his tongue found yours, and he wasn't breathing you in, he was drinking you in.

Dizzy.

When he pulled away, you forgot how to breathe, and still his hips continued to move at his rhythm.

"I dare you," he spoke through gritted teeth, panting, "to say that again." A challenge. "Do you wish so badly to be reminded of our differences when I'm inside you?"

And though his words made you flush, you only shook your head.

"It feels… ah… I-it feels more real when I s-say it out loud—" You gasped, trying to take the pleasure he was giving you. "Th-that despite everything— Even if you're the prince, and I'm the knight, we're — oh, god— w-we're both still here… In this moment… Together..."

He gripped your hips, rocked into you in a way that made you breathless.

"…You're right," he murmured. "That isn't going to change what we feel. Not anymore."

The pleasure built further, then. Gradually. Quiet moans became harder to keep in check, especially not when you could feel him pulse the way he did.

"I-I'm…" you choked out, trying to hold back a cry. "C-close… Xavier…"

"Mhm. I am, too. L-let's… cum together…"

He held your hands, gripped them tightly as he stilled.

He throbbed; you felt it. And a warm, sticky sensation filled you, enough for you to tremble, enough for you to still—frozen, captured—

He kissed you, again. Whispered your name onto your lips, a soft gasp, a prayer.

And even afterwards, he didn't dare leave you.

He gathered you into his arms, not minding the mess, not minding the way you'd tangled together in the passion you'd shared just then.

And he kissed you over, and over, and over again—

"Xavier, I love you," you sniffled.

"And I love you, my angel. For you… have always been mine."

And in the quiet that followed, as you drifted into sleep… You felt that you finally believed it.

&—

You woke slowly, the sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains in soft strips of gold. Yet, the warmth that cocooned you wasn’t just the sun—

It was him.

Still, always, him.

Xavier, half-asleep, lay with one arm lazily draped across your waist, his breath steady against the back of your neck.

For a moment you simply lay there, smiling quietly to yourself. The memories of last night came back in waves—his touch, his voice, the way he’d held you like you was everything...

You'd cleaned, before you slept, but you still felt every little sensation so vividly. Even now your body still hummed from it, a quiet, satisfied ache in all the right places. And you thought, foolishly, that you really might just lie here forever, suspended in the hush of a private morning.

Until you felt the press of his lips at your shoulder.

Soft.

Then, again—lower, this time.

You blinked sleepily, shifting under the sheets. “You're awake?” you murmured, a smile at the edge of your lips.

He hummed. "I wouldn't be, but you're distracting."

You huffed a laugh, turning your head slightly to peer at him over your shoulder. “I’m not even doing anything…”

“You exist.” His mouth trailed down the curve of your spine, slow, purposeful. “It’s more than enough.”

And before you could react, really, you felt the last shape of his smile against your back before he moved even lower, slipping under the covers.

“Xavier…” you warned gently, though your voice had little conviction. A thrill had already started curling in your belly—anticipation, excitement. “You’re insatiable.”

“But I’ve shown restraint for years,” he murmured from somewhere near your hips. “I’m just making up for lost time. Besides…"

You squeaked as you felt him lick right above your mound, sending tingles all over your body.

"I didn't taste you last night. Don't I get a taste test of my beloved queen?"

Beloved queen.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Another kiss; inside your thigh, nuzzling into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"X-Xavier—!"

His tongue was soft at first, teasing. Coaxing you awake in ways that had nothing to do with the sunlight. Your body arched of its own accord, slow and easy, thighs parting to grant him better access— You felt his hands hold you steady, and then he began to devour you with that same kind of reverence that made you feel drunk on him all over again.

You reached down blindly, fingers threading through his hair. “You really don’t have to—ah—Xavier—!"

“But I want to,” he said between kisses, between licks, with his breath still hot against you. “You taste really good, I wish I'd done this sooner.”

A moan spilled from your lips as his own closed right around your clit. It turned into a laugh, almost—you trembled, it was a little high pitched. “You—! Y-you're ridiculous,” you huffed, but still affection pooling in your chest as much as the heat searing between your legs.

This time, he didn't reply, not quite.

Just a groan—either from your words or the way you bucked slightly against his mouth, you couldn't really tell.

But oh, did it feel fucking good .

You felt him part your folds, add in a teasing lick at your entrance. He'd dip the tip of his tongue inside before gliding it achingly close to your clit—a few repetitions of the movement before it swirled over your bud, flicked it to the side.

"Oh, god—!"

Spurred on by your sounds, he only continued. Moaned against your skin, mixed in shamelessly with the lewd, slick sounds of your arousal. When his tongue slipped in, you cried—bucked, writhed, almost. Your fingers dug into his hair, and before you knew it, you were grinding into him, finding your rhythm.

"Xavier!" you whined. "Oh, god… oh, god, fffu—hnng—"

Your legs seized.

You felt him press you open, pushed onto the mattress, never daring to allow you any escape—

"C, c-cummin—ngh—!"

Your orgasm rushed to the surface as your back arched, curling into him with no more control over your movements.

But, greedily, he continued. Lapped you up, flicked at your clit. Enough so that by now you'd kicked at the covers, whined and tugged him up.

"Xavier… Xavier!" you huffed, panted.

When he stopped, finally, you sank weakly into the pillows, already drawing up one of them to cover your flushed face.

Not that he'd let you, of course.

He rose up to meet you with a smug, warm grin, crawling up to pull the pillow away and press a kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning,” he hummed.

Cheeky.

So, incredibly cheeky.

Donning a pout and feigning upset, you tilted your head to look at him, “Good morning, you menace.”

He only chuckled again and pulled you against his chest. “You like it, though.”

"You're lucky I do."

Your body was still warm, skin humming with the afterglow as you gave in and draped your arm across him. He was cozy, still. Despite the way you felt like you were already spent, you wouldn't turn away more cuddles from him. And in turn, he brushed his fingers up and down your bare back, slow and absent, as though touching you had become second nature.

You sighed contentedly.

"You know… most people start their mornings with tea."

"Mmm." A squeeze on your arm. "But this is better."

"You're going to spoil me."

"Good, I want to."

You felt him stir, then, and your breath caught—he ground against your thigh, just enough to earn you that delicious, delicious little groan.

"Your Highness…" you huffed.

"Mn, I know… But you're just so…"

Another grind, and you felt him tremble.

And it was so, so hard to resist, even for you.

"Please?" he murmured, nuzzling your neck.

"…Again? But you just…"

"I need you…"

And he rolled you gently onto your back, settled over you with a practiced ease.

A beat.

You looked at each other.

And now, like this, his eyes were so pleading, that you eventually broke out into a barely-contained smile of your own.

You were so weak.

He made you utterly, completely weak.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes, "last one, and then we get ready."

And it was so natural.

There was no urgency this time, only a warm familiarity as he slid into you. Still you felt the stretch, and still you felt yourself drawn in to take him all. And then you kissed, and gasped softly against his mouth, hands rising up to cradle the back of his neck.

“My prince,” you whispered, breath hitching as he began to move, “you’re impossible.”

He gave another peck to your lips, grinned as your hips lifted to meet his rhythm. This time it wasn't so deep, or hungry, or too much, it was just—

Right.

So right.

And kisses turned to giggles, and somewhere between slow thrusts and quiet moans, a conversation bubbled like the most natural thing in the world.

“I… still have meetings later,” he murmured against your neck. “Dull things. Reports, schedules. Nobles who love the sound of their own voices.”

Laughing softly, you arched into him again with a little hum. “And so I told you we mustn't take too long."

"But I want to spend the morning with you."

"You can't spend the whole morning…"

"Mn…" His hips moved with a slow roll then that made your eyes flutter, grinding against your sweet spot so perfect. “Still, it would be better if you were there.”

You grinned.

“As your knight or as your lover?” you teased, though something in your voice was soft. Wondering.

He looked at you then, his rhythm pausing just long enough for the weight of his gaze to settle. He brushed a strand of hair from your damp forehead.

“Both.”

You pulled him back into you, clung to him as you nuzzled into your neck.

"Ah, hearing you say that… feels almost as good as this…"

"This?"

He nudged your head, nipped at your cheek. You could feel him grin—another particularly angled thrust had the head of his cock kissing at your g-spot, and you shuddered.

"Mhm… just like that."

And he chuckled, timing every movement of his hips to hit that spot just right, just the way you liked it; only one time before and he'd already memorized every spot that made you cave so much.

He voiced it out. Poked his tongue out to make kitten licks at your neck, absolutely cherished the way that you groaned for him. "I already know what you like, angel. You like it here…"

His hand moved down, brushed against your nipple.

"And, here…"

With a grin, he dipped his head to nip at your collarbone.

"And, here…"

His hand moved lower down still, slid between your tangled limbs, and pressed against your clit.

You gasped, eyes wide, and he dared to grind against you, rubbing against your clit so perfectly that you nearly weeped again.

"X-Xavier!" you whimpered. "Y-you're so unfair, that's— ngh—"

Again he moved up your body to nuzzle your cheek affectionately, but his hand stayed at your nub and moved in slow, steady circles to match his hips.

“Today,” he said, breath warm and steady, “I’m going to tell them. The court. The council. Everyone.”

Your eyes widened, lips parted in pleasured puffs.

“I’m going to tell them I want to marry my knight,” he continued, fondly. “That I will.”

And you felt as if your heart could burst.

The world, around you, seemed to sway. Not from the motion of your bodies, even—but from this, this rush of emotion, the disbelief that settled into an overwhelming sense of love.

You didn't think you could love him any more than you did.

But he was very good at proving that notion wrong.

"You… you mean it?" you breathed.

"Mhm."

"You… I… I-I'm going to be your… queen?"

"Mhm."

He leaned in to kiss you again—that same gentle, soft kiss, followed by little fluttering ones all over your face until he reached the corners of your eyes.

Despite yourself, a little giggle fell from your lips, one that easily turned into a squeal as he flipped you over.

Now, with your face into the pillows, you felt his breath tickling your neck, as he gave you more kisses—down your back, along your spine, before he entered again.

Deeper this time. Much deeper than he had before.

"Oh, my god—Xavier, fuck— I—!"

He chuckled, raked his fingers through your hair. "Language," he murmured, "you're not being very classy today."

"Uh, it's your fault that I—!"

You barely got your words out before he slammed back into you, a motion causing your body to rock forward with a gasp. His weight pushed into you, laying like a weighted blanket, allowing you to feel just how deep he could take you.

"It's okay," he breathed, hot against the shell of your ear. "You're being such a good girl for me, my queen."

You could barely process his words, already dizzying at all these delicious sensations.

"You'll be the death of me, my liege."

When he moved again, it didn't take long for the both of you to reach your high. Similarly, still, to just the night before—his hips stilled, moans muffled into the nape of your neck, filling you wholly and completely and perfectly.

He'd turned you over then, pulling out slow, cradling your head in his hands.

"…I mean it," he whispered. "I want to marry you."

"…You're proposing to me after sex?" you laughed softly.

"Well… then do you accept?"

"Of course I do, Xavier."

He smiled. "I'm going to make you my queen. Just you wait."

"If… they don't accept?"

"We can always elope. You'd still be my queen."

You laughed again.

How odd it was, you found, that even in this situation you could still find humor, and comfort. But you supposed that was what it was like—when things felt right, when things felt settled enough.

In your heart, you knew that everything was going to be alright.

The promise lingered, settled in the quiet that followed. Here, in this room, you had everything you needed—you lay with tangled limbs, your hearts so open and tethered, and a world of hope waiting on the other side of the door, but you had each other.

That was the most important part.

You had each other.

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[eternalartblock]

overanalyzing kyoko's letter because i have nothing better to do

im having a fucking field day out here.

so in case anyone reading this is unaware, campyfire recently dropped these:

there is a LOT to unpack here. i am losing it over the namedrop but i would mainly like to focus on psychoanalyzing kyoko because. i mean this is her letter, plus in context it wasnt really meant to be read by anyone other than herself, so its likely that shes being pretty damn genuine here. which means i get to look at it and read into it and convince myself even further that she is!!! not okay!!!!!!

We hope your adventures haven’t taken you too far.

“we” is likely referring to the rest of her family, so theyre probably alive and present. which is good because i would actually kill someone if she lost her sister and had literally no one else. i really hope they gave her some support at some point because it seems like she really needs it

Since you’ve been on your journey, I've decided to become an adventurer, just like you!

becoming an adventurer is a lot. leaving home and letting go of your old life is a lot. and kyoko did that because it was something her sister liked to do, because it made her look strong and brave and she wanted to be like her. she mustve really, really looked up to her :(((

…I was scared at first, but talking with them made me happy… really happy.

ok hold up. she was scared??? while she does seem scared for them, shes never appeared to be scared of them, so… why? maybe its because they just come off as intimidating to everyone? it could be like how several npcs in the manor thought they looked off. but that was after she first met them, plus they were definitely a doing a lot better back when they only had one sword. i personally think this might be hinting at some kind of attachment and/or vulnerability issues? idk it REALLY seems like shes got some shit going on, especially because of how she lets you vent about your problems but immediately changes the subject once she mentions hers in her manor dialogue. still not normal about that btw.

Things are weighing down on them though, I didn’t want to trouble them…

shes clearly worried about being a burden to player while theyve got so much going on. even though she has literally let them vent to her. while she ALSO had some shit going on. dont get me wrong, i get why she'd think that way, player IS visibly going through it and they dont need more things to worry about. but it would probably be worth it to at least ask if theyd be ok with listening to her talk about everything. theyre her friend, and theyve got quite a few things in common. they would understand.

I shouldn't give up. I know you're out there, so I'm going to be just like you and never stop trying.

aughhhh fuckkkkkk

the thing about having a loved one go missing is that anything could have happened to them. there so many horrible ways for calypso to have gone out, especially since kyoko has ZERO IDEA where she could have gone. and yet, she chooses to believe that shes still out there somewhere, because she knows her sister, and she knows that shes stronger than that. and she wouldnt leave her.

also consider: calypso's an adventurer. it would be normal to not hear from her for a while. so imagine how long it took for her family to even realize something was wrong. calypso has been gone for a very long time.

im glad kyoko's at least coping somehow... still think she should open up a bit, but its better than nothing. i really want her to get the support she needs, because shes clearly going through a lot, despite how cheerful she might appear. also i wanna know more about calypso, it seems like she was super cool.

anyways kyoko is the best and most well written block tales character. thank you for coming to my ted talk

[a-minke-whales-tale]

The Insidiousness of Human Kindness

There is something particularly insidious and cruel about human kindness. It is not all kindness of course but there is a certain type of "kindness" humans do in which they try to imagine what they would want if they were you and then do that. It is in a way sort of an expansion of that "golden rule" to treat others how you want to be treated. That rule works fine for general social interaction and teaching children to not hurt others. However it is often mechanically applied where it is not applicable. It does start from the base assumption that we all have the same needs and wants and understanding. Unfortunately some very cruel things can be done in the name of that kindness.

This did originally come up in the context of animal welfare and animal rights particularly in regards to cetaceans. Many animal rights activists will appeal to this idea putting yourself in that animal's shoes so to speak and what you would want in that situation. The problem ultimately is you are not them. You come in with your own biases, your own vision of what a good life looks like, either for yourself or for that animal. The irony is that humans will watch some animals being cared for quite well and respond with outrage and revulsion, and watch others being abused or mistreated or displaying a stress response and respond positively of how adorable the interaction or behaviour is.

Humans do not do this only to other species though, but really any group they find different even their own species. Most creatures lack the ability to directly communicate their wants and desires, but most humans can (or could if they were given the space and means to). It is quite common for Ace and Aro people to be told how sex or romance are a normal human desire that they should want and them not wanting it means they should go on certain medicines. Humans will say how they would want X or Y in their position and so the other should to. But there is not something wrong with that person (and even if there was), they simply have a different set of wants and needs. It can also be as simple as pushing someone into a crowd to interact with others because you think they just need a push to open up and you would want that, but that person simply has different social needs and wants. It is a big part in psychiatric treatment in how many non-psychotics think that they would want the treatment and the medicine and think that we should want it as well to the point they will happily force treatment to us for "our own good". It can in some cases go as far as the beginnings of genocide and mercy killing in the belief our lives are simply too miserable to suffer through.

Arguably a lot of the "empath" or "empathic" behaviour is like this though. It can be hard to really know what someone is experiencing. So instead those cues are run through your own biases and your own understandings of the world to create what you think that person is experiencing. In a lot of cases for a lot of interactions this can be good enough for at least a surface level understanding and to carry out interaction. But when those understandings do not align people can do terrible things to others believing themselves in the right, not out of morality or superiourity, but that they are being kind and helping.

Some of the worst experiences I have had in my life have been a result of this sort of human kindness. I spent years in and out of hospitals on so many antipsychotic medicines. I used to transform fully and frequently. The process was at times scary, but it was still something I treasured. But the humans did not understand and they could not understand. They took that away, they forced me onto medicines, any resistance or argument was punished, I was chemically and physically restrained, locked into hospitals. In their mind everything they did to me was to help me and for my benefit. I learned quickly to obey, to say and do whatever it was they wanted so they would not hurt me more. I do not live in hospital anymore, but still obedience and fear dominate my life to show the humans I am doing what they want, what they feel I should want, so they do not hurt me further.

What is particularly insidious about human "kindness" regarding those experiences, and even those ongoing, is that I cannot express them to people close to me, people who as I am spiralling in the night want to help me and tell for me how much they care. But if I explain to them these terrible experiences and I explain to them the spirals they tell me instead how those were good and it was very kind of the humans to do those thing to me because they were helping me. That without it I could not have the life I have now, a life I never wanted but have to play so the humans do not hurt me. There was one point I expressed some of what happened in the hospital to my current doctor and she did not understand that those experiences for me are ones of fear, dread, and nightmare, believing instead that I was thankful for the hospitals and the doctors. Even when I discuss struggles in my life (after a lot of coaxing), my doctor has an entirely different vision of what I should want from my life and how it should be. It is far different than what I actually want, but I have to act according to their vision of what they think I should want.

That "kindness" though is something I fear very much. I do have radically different desires in life compared to the humans who watch over me. For myself I desire to return to the water, to be a whale again, to swim forever. For many humans, even other therians, the idea to turn myself back into a whale is unimaginable. I know that returning to the water I would have to go to a tank and live a captive life, I simply could not survive in the wild, and likely could not survive even in a sea pen. But even those who can understand my desire to return to the water, with the exception of a few podmates, it is hard to imagine for them that captive life is something I would want. They simply live differently and understand the world around them differently from me. We have different wants and needs. At the very least compared to other captive cetaceans I can actively express my desire to live in captivity. But will the humans actually listen, or will they use my desire as proof I am not well enough to know what I want?

I know my hopes to return to the water and to live again as a whale are very difficult. It will depend very much on genuine human kindness and understanding. It will depend on their curiousity of me and my experiences and to see a creature hurting and wish to help it. It will depend on them wanting to help and understand my genuine needs and desires. I fear though that at some point the humans will instead act in "my best interest" of how they think I should want to live out of their own belief in their kindness and rip me again from the water and again into a hospital until I can obey them as they want. It did not kill me last time, though it nearly did and I left permanently damaged and I am not the same whale who went in. I fear though that someday as the humans imagine themselves in my position of what they would want if they were me, they will surely kill me as they have so many other cetaceans before in their act of "kindness"

I would be curious to hear others experiences on the receiving end of this sort of "kindness".

~ Kala

[miks-delusional-blog]

Hair- Mizu x fem! reader

Tags: Fluff, mild angst? (Again idk how to tag guys, somebody who does know please tell me that would be amazing <3), gender reveal (reader discovers Mizu is a woman), mentions injury and violence, maybe a slow burn? (might make into a series)

Notes: in 2nd person (you), 995 words, Mizu x fem! reader

Context: you and Mizu are friends with romantic tension, also it’s a bit awkward between you two after you find out she’s a woman

A/N: Hello there. Fanfiction. Read it. Hope you enjoy. I’m going to get back to doing school work now. Or I’ll procrastinate and make a part 2. 

Also this is inspired by a scene that was cut from the show where Mizu plays with her hair.

Toodles, love Yamz x

Mizu huffed, frustrated as she tried to tie up her hair. It was normally a simple task, however, on this morning it was not. 

In a scuffle with some assassins, Mizu had hurt her arm quite badly. Although it was the day after the battle, the pain still lingered. Pain was not the only thing that lingered, but an awkward air. After yesterday’s battle, you treated Mizu’s injured arm, finding out that Mizu was not the man you thought she was.

She was a woman.

The image of your shocked face when you pulled down her haori lingered in her mind, like a reflection in a window pane. 

The two of you sat on the floor of the inn, with a noticeable gap, getting ready for the day. Her annoyed huff brought you to look up from the mirror you were holding. You turned to her chuckling softly, “You alright over there?”

She shot you a small glare. “I’m fine.” She attempted to tie her hair up again but the strands cascaded out of her grasp. Her arm fell to her side, she sighed a little defeated.

You crawled behind her, propping yourself up on your knees. Taking the hair tie from her hand, you began gathering her hair together.

Mizu hesitated before uttering, “What are you doing?”

“Shaving your hair off.” you casually remarked as you brushed the knots out of her long hair with your fingers.

Mizu jerked her head back to face you, grabbing your wrist.

“I’m joking! I’m tying up your hair, obviously.” you laughed.

Mizu’s lips curled to a frown, her grip loosening. 

“Just let me help you out.” She let you move her head so she faced away from you. You shuffled a little closer to her, her back up against your front as you continued brushing through her hair.

Mizu relaxed a little as your fingers softly graced her. She thought of how gentle you were with her. Something she wasn’t used to. 

Her usual contact with people tended to be violent to say the least.

Mizu thought of a time before she had to shave her hair as a child. How her mother would tug and pull at her hair, telling her to sit still. 

Your touch was nothing like her mothers.

You were careful and soft, touching her as if she was silk.

Mizu closed her eyes with a small sigh of relief as you gathered all her hair into one hand, using your other to smooth out any bumps.

“Sorry I don’t have a comb. I think I lost it in the heat of things yesterday. Hands are nature's comb anyway.” 

Mizu hummed in response, melting under the way your hands moved through her hair.

“All done.” You pick up the mirror, holding it so Mizu could see your handy work.

She opened her eyes, catching yours in the reflection.

“Not bad right?” You smiled at her through the mirror.

Mizu smiled back, “not bad. You didn’t shave it off.” 

“Don’t give me ideas.” You tried to brush her cowlick behind her ear but it failed to stick.

Turning around, she chuckled. The two of you became face to face “for every strand of hair you cut, is a finger lost on your hands.”

You felt the heat of her words touch your face, eyes widening slightly at your closeness . You sit back on your feet, creating a bit more distance between the two of you. “Well I guess my fingers are safe.”

“For now.” Mizu smirked.

You crossed your arms, hiding your hands away from her. You playfully glare at her which she returns before the two of you start laughing. 

After the laughter subsides, Mizu gazes at you with soft eyes. “Thanks…Uh for helping me with my hair.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.” 

“I won’t be like this for long.” She adjusted the sleeve of her haori. 

“I know. You always spring back quickly. By the end of the day you’ll probably be fighting the whole town with no problem. And even if you’re not, and you still need my help, I’ll do your hair.”

Mizu smiles again, bowing her head slightly. “Thank you.” She paused thoughtfully, her gaze lowering to the floor.

Noticing the slight shift in mood, you offered a kind smile. “Everything okay?”

“It’s nothing.” Her eyes flickered to yours.

“There’s always something.”

“It’s just… I don’t understand.” She looked down at her hands.

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“How can you be so normal? You know my secret. I’ve been deceiving you for so long… How can you act like it’s okay?” Her blue eyes gazed into yours with worry.

“Because it is okay.”

“But I lied to you. I am not a man.” 

You took a breath, one which felt like an eternity to Mizu. “Listen, I understand why hide the truth from everyone. It’s easier to walk as a man in our world than it is to crawl as a woman, and it’s easier to keep a secret if you’re the only one who knows it.”

“Well… Ringo knew.”

“What?!” You exclaimed. Mizu winced slightly.

After a brief pause you continued, “That’s… fine. A-anyway, my point still stands. I’m not angry or upset with you because I get it.”

Mizu stayed quiet, reflecting on your words. After a moment, she speaks. “You are very kind to me… I’m not sure if I am deserving of it.” 

“Well, I give my kindness to whomever I want so whether you think you deserve it is not for you to decide.” You crossed your arms. “I think you are deserving of my kindness and compassion, and you’re not the boss of me so, nyeh.” Your serious facade couldn’t stay up as you began smiling.

Mizu chuckles, putting her hands up in defeat. “OK, OK, I won’t talk more about it.”

“So we’re OK?” You asked carefully but with a smile gracing your lips.

“We’re good.”

“Good.”

[yesimwriting]

in ur bestfriend!felix series do you think farleigh cares for the reader even if it’s just a little bit? like we all know how he can be (#1 shit stirrer) but it really got me thinking!! i don’t think he cared much when she first started hanging out with felix he was probably like ‘whatever just another one of his charity cases’ but would that change later on when he sees how felix really does care for her and she’s not going anywhere anytime soon or ever possibly sorry for the long rant!! i was rereading and the one u wrote were he refused to let her get high because of felix made me think 😭🫶

a/n omg me and @ker0senebunny were just discussing their dynamic potential

farleigh and reader have such potential for an oddly endearing frenemy arch,, they definitely still bully each other, but they bond over gossiping and (lightly, at least in reader's case) judging others, especially after farleigh finally realizies that reader isn't another one of felix's phases

also can def see them growing a smidge protective of each other?? like if farleigh makes a mean joke about reader they laugh,, but if someone else makes it they both kind of side eye each other 😭

anyways here’s a drabble that also briefly features slightly flustered felix and socially unsure ollie

"Here." Farleigh's standing in front of your spot on the couch, arm stretched forward lazily. You blink, eyeing what looks like a joint skeptically.

Farleigh isn't quite looking at you as he continues to hold out his offering, but he isn't moving away. You extend a hand, taking it from him cautiously. Smoking tonight wasn't really a goal, but you're not exactly feeling against it.

You sit up a little straighter, mentally debating if his attempt at socializing with you is a result of the small scale setting of tonight's plans or if he's just that high. Maybe it's both. "Thought I was on weed probation."

He sighs. "Do you want it or not?"

You tilt your chin up to frown at him, "Moody."

Farleigh's eyes finally meet yours. His scleras are tinged pink, making his gaze seem far off and slightly irritated. You bring the joint to your lips out of the instinctual desire to seem amicable. Farleigh's far from your best friend, but recently, there's been an undertone of understanding in your catty comments. More like Farleigh laughing with you than at you.

He steps past your legs before sitting next to you. Not the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you, but still, strange. Normally, on more low key nights like this, when it's just some of Felix's closer friends hanging around in an off campus apartment instead of a full fledged rager, Farleigh's close to the center of the action. Maybe he's more bothered by Oliver's presence than you thought.

After a beat of silence, Farleigh explains flatly, "It's different tonight." You're not sure you're following, but there's a good chance that Farleigh's high enough for it not to matter. "You're not drunk and tonight's...calmer, there's nothing for Felix to worry himself sick over."

You roll your eyes. "Felix doesn't get worried sick over me." You take another hit of the joint, pretending the gesture doesn't feel performative. "And either way, it's not his issue."

Farleigh scoffs. "Please."

"Please what?"

He leans forward, propping his head up on one elbow. "Sometimes you seem so smart, it's nice to know that in some ways you're still like a little kid."

Not the worst backhanded compliment he's ever hit you with. "Mhm."

Farleigh lets himself slump against the couch before extending a hand in your direction. A silent request. You hand him back the joint. "Oh, you're cold? Take my jacket. You're thirsty? I've already gotten you a water. You're tired? Give me a minute to say goodbye to some friends and then I'll tuck you in, lovie."

The general teasing is easy to dismiss until he tacks on Felix's favorite nickname for you. It doesn't feel right to hear it in a negative context. "Leave him alone. Felix is my friend and he's nice." You tap your fingers against your knee, body feeling much too relaxed for the annoyance that wants to break through. "It's not weird or anything."

Farleigh takes his time letting more smoke fill his lungs. "Defensive." You roll your eyes. "Look around, every girl here wishes Felix was that friendly with them." His sentence is a hint too loud for you to be comfortable. The last thing you need is for some girl to take it the wrong way and blame you for it. "His new lapdog probably feels the same."

It takes you a second longer than it should to get the reference. You're not exactly close with Oliver. He's new, and Felix really enjoys his company, but you've yet to bond with him. Something in you just hasn't been able to get there yet. Sometimes you'll see what Felix sees in him, but that isn't the same as feeling close to him. You want to like him, though, so you're sure it's only a matter of time before you click over something. Felix and you spend too much time together for it not to work out between you and Oliver eventually.

"That's mean." You turn to better face Farleigh, your shoulder sinking against the seat's cushioning at an uncomfortable angle. "Like really mean."

Part of the defense is instinctual. You're not one to make fun of people behind their backs just to act like you're friends in front of them. But it's also more than that. Felix wouldn't let anyone talk about you like that, and without him or Oliver there to fight against Farleigh's snark, it feels wrong to let that kind of thing go.

"Fine. Better analogy. Sometimes the way Oliver looks at Felix feels like he wants to be his escort, or something."

You understand what Farleigh's getting at almost immediately. There's this urge to please quality about Oliver that you can't judge him for. People want Felix to like them. People want Felix to love them. It's not a draw you'd ever fault anyone for falling for. But something about the concept of an 'escort' in this context makes you want to laugh. You bite your tongue.

Farleigh holds out the joint again. You take it back instinctually, taking a quick hit to avoid having to say anything right away. "Yeah, but isn't that everyone with Felix?"

You're not sure what the goal of your response is. A poor attempt at changing the subject and steering the conversation away from making fun of someone with no one there to defend them without alienating Farleigh entirely. It's a joke, and not a very good one, but with the way you and Farleigh start cracking up, no one would ever be able to tell.

"We're..." You try through a fit of giggles, "We're awful."

"No," Farleigh shakes his head once lazily, "Not awful. We're familial bonding."

You squint at him as he plucks the joint from between your fingers. "We're not related."

Farleigh brings the joint to his lips, taking a deep inhale. "No," he mumbles, "I'm just getting ahead of the inevitable."

It takes you a beat longer than it should to understand his reference. "Farleigh." He's smiling slightly, the look smug. "Felix and I are just friends. You know that."

His head falls against the back of the couch. "Does anyone ever get along with their in-laws?"

You steal the joint from him before letting your back hit the cushioning. "Shut up."

With your body angled forward, you can see the center of the living room. Felix is near the entrance to the kitchen, Oliver by his side.

When Felix's eyes land on yours, he grins. You smile back before finally bringing the joint back to your lips. By the time you're exhaling, you can see Felix nudging Oliver's shoulder.

"Here we go," Farleigh sighs, taking back the joint.

You ignore the comment in favor of tracking Felix's path across the room. The world parts for him, as always.

"Hi." You beam, stretching a hand forward as soon as Felix is within reach. He grabs your hand immediately, squeezing your palm against his. "Felix, Oliver."

Oliver nods once at the acknowledgement, "Hey."

Felix tugs on your arm gently. "Lovie, where've you been?" His thumb brushes against your knuckles. "Been looking for you."

"I've been here," you admit, "I was waiting for you guys to get back with everyone's drinks and then Annabel wanted to sit...and then Farleigh."

Felix nods as if you've said is something of great importance. "Farleigh treating you okay?"

Farleigh tilts his head, halfheartedly glaring at Felix. You grin. "Yeah, we're just chatting."

"Chatting," he muses, looking between you and Farleigh. Before you can respond, Felix is moving to sit, taking up the last of the couch's remaining space. He looks up at Oliver, noting the lack of room for a fourth person. Felix squeezes our hand. "Sit with me?"

You nod, instantly understanding what he's getting at. You're sure Farleigh will hold you leaving your spot to give Oliver the opportunity to sit next to him against you, but there's not much else you can do, so you stand.

Felix is pulling you towards him before you can fully register the fact that you're standing. You frown, an attempt at a wordless scolding. He beams at you, the picture of affectionate innocence.

As soon as you're sitting on his lap, he's setting one hand on your knee and the other on your shoulder. Felix is always warm in the same way. There's a soothingness to it, a familiarity that you can always trust.

Oliver doesn't move until Felix's hand drifts away from your leg to pat the now open spot on the couch. Farleigh leans back slightly to make it easier to throw you a look that seems to say that Oliver's proving his earlier point.

You don't generally find Farleigh's snideness funny. You're not in the habit at laughing at his comments or behaving differently in hopes of winning him over. But, there's something about the solidarity of the look paired with your high. You laugh.

"What?" Felix asks, leaning forward to rest his chin against your shoulder.

You shake your head. "Nothing." A pinch of guilt nips at you. "I'm--I'm high."

"Could tell." Felix grins, dipping his head forward to press a kiss against the start of your back. "Farleigh's a terrible influence, hard to imagine what the two of you were up to before me and Ollie got here."

Maybe it's the lingering guilt, or maybe it's because Oliver's been almost completely silent since he got here and you know what it's like to be that person. You don't know what it is, but something makes you want to look over at Oliver. "Don't know, what do you think we were up to, Oliver?"

"Oh," he starts, tapping a finger against the edge of his solo cup as if something about your sudden attention startled him. "Up to no good, 'm sure."

You smile. Oliver and you may not be close, but at least he doesn't have an issue with carrying on a bit. Some of Felix's friends do. The first time Felix left you alone at one of these things, you made the mistake of making a joke in front of a girl who just stared at you.

"Little faith," you accuse with a shake of your head that indicates a disappointment your smile doesn't match.

"We were talking about inevitability."

Felix turns his head to look at Farleigh, "And what's inevitable?"

Your nails press into the skin of your leg. Some instinct tells you to beat Farleigh to the punch. "Oh, our wedding, apparently."

Felix tenses. "Wh--what?"

"To Farleigh," you clarify as quickly as possible, "I promise I'm not planning on proposing any time soon, so you can relax."

His hand finds your knee again. "Right," Felix sighs through a dry laugh, "Cause I--" Felix pauses, his forehead falling to your shoulder. "Farleigh...he'll say anything when high, it's..." He scoffs.

You turn your head with no warning. Felix's head slips off your shoulder. He pouts. "So the thought of being married to me is that bad?"

"No." He stretches out the vowel sound in an attempt to buy himself some time. "I--" He leans in closer, eyes flitting away from you and towards your lap. "I didn't--not like--"

You laugh. "I'm making fun of you, Lex." His skin is still slightly flushed, a pink tinge to his cheeks that's almost masked by the low lighting. "Y'can relax."

Felix's lips part in mock offense. "Lovie." He leans his head forward, hiding his face against the side of your neck.

You giggle, lifting a hand to brush your fingers through his hair. "I know, I'm mean."

"Very." He's quiet for a moment, head resting against you even though the angle can't be comfortable. "It wouldn't be bad." Felix whispers the sentence so quickly and quietly you almost feel like you've imagined them.

Before you can respond, Felix lifts his head slightly, setting his chin back on your shoulder. "Me and Ollie were talking about leaving early, watching that movie you rented." He squeezes your arm, the gesture warm. "If you want to."

"Yeah," you grin, "Sounds fun."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains

[yinemw]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚

context: letters shared between villain dabi and pro-hero reader. (The parts that are marked like this mean they are marked off and unreadable to the receiver)

warnings: angst, swearing and Dabi talking about dying

character: Dabi/Touya Todoroki from mha

m.list

To Dabi

I know I’m the last person you probably want to hear from right now, considering all things. But I didn’t know, I mean how could I. You never told me he is your father. You rushed away so fast after our last meeting and you blocked my number. I thought writing you a letter would be better, to explain my side and hope that I’ll find Toga and get her to deliver this to you.

I care for you Dabi, whether you believe me or not it’s up to you, but I really do care. Why else would I let you crash at my place, eat my food and…just talk. You trusted me with your number and I trusted you with mine, and despite everything, those late night phone calls we shared mean the world to me. For a second I felt normal, didn’t have to think about heros or villains or my work, it was just you and me.

You never told me who you are, who you really are. And it was enough to just know you as Dabi, as the villain I stumbled upon all bloody and weak in an alley way one night, brought back home and ‘healed’ back to health. It was obvious your real name wasn’t Dabi, or that you were born with your scars and burnt skin, so I was always curious about your past. Your secrets. I didn’t think finding out who you really are would be the end of our relationship friendship. The way you reacted when I said your real name…I’ve never seen that look before and I knew I had messed up. I’m sorry Dabi, for snooping in your past. I broke our promise, but I hope you can forgive me.

From…Y/n you know who

Stupid hero, sending a letter like we’re back in the 70s. Blocked your number for a reason, and there you go finding another way to contact me. Surprised you couldn’t find where I’m staying despite knowing everything else about me. Cute of you to not include my real name in your letter, scared it might have ended up in someone else’s hands and my identity is out to the public? Don’t be, I’m gonna reveal my identity soon enough. Make my father know exactly who I am.

You’re really quite something I have to admit, having found out who I am. Was it Hawks who helped you? Or maybe I underestimated you, you’re a pro hero after all, even if the whole system is a joke. I am curious though, you say you care about me, yet you continue to work with my father. Funny really, don’t you think?

Doesn’t matter, I’m done with you. Was nice not starving and have a roof over my head, but that’s all it was. I’d start training harder, hero, you have no idea what’s coming.

To Touya

Thank you for writing back, it was unexpected to see your letter on my pillow. I wish you would have stayed so we could have talked in person, but I’ll respect your space.

I didn’t know you were planning on going public with your identity. I have to admit, the entire idea does sound alarming and your ‘warning’ is, not ideal to say the least. We always talked about what we would do when the day comes that we stand on opposite sides of the battle field, and by the sound of it, that day is coming faster then I thought.

You’re right, it does sound ridiculous when I say I love care about you, and continue to work with your father. I simply haven’t been able to come so far yet, I’m not entirely sure where my career is heading. I’ve gotten so used to working with Endeavor and Hawks, been in their shadow in a way, but always there. Helping civilians to safety and using my quirk to help as best as I can, they’re my safety net, I guess. You’re right, continuing to work with him is a mistake. But you have to understand Touya, it’s more complicating than just ‘stop working with him’. I’ll figure it out, I promise, please just give me time.

(P.s next time you come over, please feel free to take as much food as you need and blankets/pillows if you need)

From Y/n

Publicly going solo, huh? Have to say, was kinda hot seeing you on TV saying how you’re an independent hero now, not working with others. Got everyone shocked to say the least, all eyes on you. Been telling you since the beginning you’re better than all those other stupid hero’s, don’t know why you’ve been hiding in their shadows.

You’re one tough cookie to crack, and I have to admit, thinking about fighting you isn’t exactly…fun. Your quirk is annoying and to be honest, I’m not even sure which one of us would win. But you’re not my main focus, so do me a favor, stay out of this fight, yeah?

P.s the pasta you made could have used less salt, just sayin

To Touya

Your notes are so short Touya, and you still won’t see me in person, please, I need to see you. I seriously can’t take this anymore, us tip-toeing around our…well whatever we are. You’re even harder to read through your scribbles and wrinkled paper you leave on my pillow. I hate to confess through a letter, especially during times like these when the entire country is anxious. But I feel like I’m losing you, for real this time.

Touya I love like you, more than a friend. It became so much more than just a ‘hero-villain friendship’. You become apart of my life, apart of my routine. I would wait everyday by my window, just to see if you would come by and sneak into my apartment. I would make your favorite meals, just in case you came by and were hungry. My life was finally exciting, I was looking forward to something, to just see or hear you. You weren’t just a broken villain to me Touya, you were everything.

I wish you would have told me about your plans, I wish you would have told me everything about you. And I know that’s a selfish thought, but the whispers in the hero community are starting to freak me out. Touya you have no idea what you’re up against, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to save you this time.

Please, come back to me.

From Y/n

So the hero fell for the villain, huh? Typical, feels like some cheesy trope from a movie. I would go as far as to call you pathetic, the way you talk about me. You have so much to live for, yet seeing me excited you. Must have been one boring life you lived before me.

Doesn’t matter, nothing you say will change my mind. It’s not about you, believe it or not. Was never about you. You fucked me up, real good in fact. Postponed all my damn plans. Nights I was supposed to spend with the league, I couldn’t help myself but to spend with you, do you know how much trouble I got into? Not that I cared, spending time with you wasn’t exactly bad.

I still remember your shocked face when you started to see my white roots, how you bought black hair dye and helped me dye my hair whenever I needed. Or the way you looked all lovesick whenever I enjoyed your cooking. Even the first night I slept in your damn bed and voluntarily cuddled up to you, I could hear how fast your heart was beating. You seriously think I didn’t know that you like me? Stupid hero. You made it quite obvious, not to mention you got quite touchy too. Not that I minded. But none of it matters, because we can’t be together. Ever. Now stop using Toga as the mailman and leave all of this behind you for good.

To Touya

You finally got what you wanted, for people to know the truth. How does it feel? Satisfied? I guess you’ll only be at peace once Endeavor is dead, so this is just the beginning, am I right?

You held back during our last battle, I could see how angry you were when I showed up to defend Endeavor. I know you’re upset, I know he ruined your life and hurt you in ways I cannot imagine, but murder is not the way. I will not let you kill him.

I don’t know where you went into hiding, but I know you’re injured. Please tell me where you are so I can make sure you’re okay. Please. I love care for you so much I can’t stand this anymore.

From Y/n

I’m sorry. Wow, feels weird even writing it down. I’ll hand you this ‘letter’ myself, before the league attacks. I want you to know, I don’t intend surviving this fight, although if you’re reading this, it means I’m already dead. Not like you’ll have time to read a stupid letter before having to fight to survive lol.

I want you to know that this is the way I want to go. By killing him. My quirk will destroy my body Y/n, and I don’t want you to see that. My body, destroyed and burnt to pieces. I may be a villain, but even I have a heart, and I don’t want your last memory of me to be a corpse. So instead, think of our happy memories. The nights we sat on your roof and smoked, or when you taught me how to meditate and we ended up laughing for hours, or even the time we went to 7-11 undercover so no one would know it’s us and ended up buying those damn good iced coffee’s.

We were never meant to be Y/n, doomed from the start actually. From the moment you decided to save me instead of turning me in to the police and putting me behind bars. You’re a fool, so stupid. Fuck, I really hate you, you know? I don’t even know what to write, you make me feel all stupid and warm, and then all fucked up and mad because I know next time I see you will most likely be the last.

Fuck, I love you. And I know you’re not where I am, you may like some part of me and care for me, but I know someone like you could never love me. But it’s better this way, hurts less. Can’t believe it hurts at all, thought I was numb until I met you. But I love you, I really fucking love you.

P.s I left my phone at your apartment, it’s under your pillow. You know the passcode. There’s a bunch of crap on it, mostly pictures and videos of us or whatever.

Love, Touya

[bisnes-socks]

i added my thoughts to the takavoltti lyrical analysis here but today i want to talk about why i think takavoltti is one of käärijä's most finnish songs ever.

this got a bit long, so just so you know what to expect going in: what i mean by most finnish is that there are references and tone of voice that are very specific to finland, there is complex use of the finnish language AND there are melodic/musical choices in the song that sound very finnish to me.

okay, here goes.

the dialogue that opens the song is already a sort of key moment to this finnishness of it all. when he says "emmä tiedä, kolisee jos kolisee, mut mun on pakko sit koittaa vetää tosi matalalla" he is doing a bit of a voice but more than that, he is talking in a way that is not quite his. his inflection, the rhythm, those are not natural to him or his dialect. you can hear it particularly when he says "koittaa vetää tosi matalalla". i don't know if it's at all easy to hear if you're not finnish, but it's not.. a serious voice or tone. the other two voices, one of them is modified to be high and the other talks like a sports announcer. the whole scene is quite comedic and it's a very specific genre of comedy that is very finnish indeed. it's also the type of thing he has been doing since always. (EDIT: OKEI MORE CONTEXT IN A REBLOG HERE)

funnily enough, you guys know köpi kallio now, the therapist in skit and autiomaa video? yeah köpi and his long time partner in crime viki are good examples of this type of humour i would say. they have their own podcast/show called viki ja köpi show but before that they were radio hosts and have been working together for ten years. the character voices and the whole vibe of the scene in the beginning of the song is very viki ja köpi to me, very ylex type comedy (yes ylex the radio station who did the ruisrock interview who still isn't back from the war).

and the small comedy bits stay in there through out the song, and they continue to have the same delivery instantly recognisable as comedic.

and that isn't to say the subject matter can't be serious. i think, again, this is something that feels inherently finnish to me. other finnish people feel free to chime in because this is hard to explain, but our culture is one where coping through making light of things is quite normal. and our sense of humour tends to be on the darker side, at least if you compare it to the american style of comedy that has taken over globally. so to make a song about there being too many demands on you and how you have a problem with setting boundaries and agreeing to insane shit, but to do it by interjecting the song with jokes just idk.. it sits in our culture lmao.

i honestly don't know how to explain this better, but quite dark comedic elements like this (after all he gets properly fucked up in the stunts it seems) in a song with a serious subject matter is something we've been doing for decades in this country (juice leskinen, for example) and it is something so loved by finnish people. we love a song that is just fucked up on multiple levels. käärijä is just adding his own style to this cultural history.

okay, onto the language.

the verse opens with "tekevälle sattuu" which is a finnish proverb.

quick finnish lesson: the word sattua in finnish means both to hurt and to happen. the word tehdä means to do but tehdä kipeää means hurting. like.. now that i think about it tämä tekee kipeää = this is doing (me a) hurt is valid and correct finnish lmao.

tekevälle sattuu, the proverb, actually means "things happen to those who do" but he is playing with the different meanings here, because he goes on to say "ain sattuu ku tekee" which can both mean "things always happen when you do" or it can mean "it always hurts when you do". then he goes on to say "ku tekee, ku kipee, ni kipeetä tekee" which is once again playing with words, because kipee here means both pain but also being sick. "ku tekee, ku kipee" would translate as "when you do as if you're sick" and "kipeetä tekee" means that it hurts.

so to recap (i'm not trying to provide a smooth translation, but highlight his wordplay:

tekevälle sattuu = things/pain happen to those who do [things]

ain sattuu ku tekee = shit happens/you get hurt when you do [things]

ku tekee, ku kipee, ni kipeetä tekee = when you do [things] like you're sick [in the head], you get hurt

so this is all to say two things: he's using the finnish language in a very clever way that really only becomes clear if you know the language and all of these idioms and proverbs. and also that he is very good at what he does. it has taken me four paragraphs to explain 13 words.

and he doesn't even end there. "oon yllytyshullu, ain hulluksi yllyn" is more play on words. jesus, jere. okay guys, stay with me.

yllytyshullu i explained in my previous analysis, but recap: yllytys means incitement and hullu means crazy. yllytyshullu is someone who does crazy shit when prompted.

"ain hulluksi yllyn" here he is using the word yltyä which is the same root as yllytys, but yltyä means usually more like.. to intensify. (for example: sade yltyy = the rain is getting heavier, or tuuli yltyy = the wind is picking up)

so to say hulluksi yllyn, he's saying like.. i let myself be incited and/or i always take it to the max, to the point of crazy.

and then he uses very clever rhyming words: "ja tää hullunmylly on kylmempi kylpy". hullu means crazy, mylly means mill, hullunmylly is basically a hullabaloo.

as you can tell, all of this is like bordering on impossible to translate accurately into a smooth translation. and that's just the first verse, but i'd be here all night if i explained the whole entire song 😭

and this to me is a very clear sign that no matter what sort of an audience he has internationally, he's not compromising on his language. and i find that admirable and, as a finnish person, very comforting too. this song is sort of reassuring, like he is reinserting himself very firmly into finnish culture, with the language and the comedy that do not translate very well. 

and if you look at the pre-chorus and chorus, the specific references keep coming: calling him kärtsä (finnish people have a lot of nicknames for him), "hyppää kybäst pommi" the slang use of kybä to mean ten meters, he mentions duudsonit (the dudesons) and he mentions jorvi hospital. all of these feel like he is signalling to a very finnish audience. (also "oon syypää sun hymyyn" could count as a cheek reference, cheek used to be like the biggest rapper in finland).

okay, time for melody and music speak. i only have one simple point here: melodically and musically speaking that has to be the most suomi iskelmä chorus i've heard from him. ever.

you could take that melody and insert it as the chorus to like any song on iskelmä radio. iskelmä is a finnish schlager music genre. kind of impossible to describe but something that finnish people will instantly recognise. the opening, with the piano synth could also open an iskelmä song.

very suomi, very iskelmä.

so.

all of this is why i think takavoltti is about as finnish as it gets. a suomi iskelmä about having serious issues with boundaries that uses clever finnish and paints a comedic picture of a banged up black-eyed käärijä who has dislocated his shoulder but is still showing thumbs up is like.. so much finnish condensed into three and a half minutes.

i know not everyone thinks the song is hilarious but i do. it's both hilarious and very serious and that's how we like it here.

and of course the fact that there is an "ai vittu" in there. we like that too.