#yes those tags have zero sense

[meowsticmarvels]

reposting this from my twt bc its funny but olike. im still thinking about this. sigma with glasses could be real methinks... mostly because it would be really funny but also I Love giving characters stuff like that actually

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 1

Source for the pic

Firestarter 1

Word Count: 3056

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : Below the summary is the masterlist. I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: Here's the first chapter of Ace's story. I've been having a blast writing this, I do hope you enjoy it as well. If you want to be tagged when I post a new chapter, let me know! Also, don't be shy, I'd love to read about your thoughts! Thank you! ❤️

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Next Chapter

After lunch you take another quick stroll through town and ask around for some part-time jobs, but nothing’s available so you return to your car, ready to go home and hoping Nami and Robin can help you find that job, like they promise they would. 

But the car doesn't start. 

You try to do what your father said, as silly and idiotic as it may seem. You pet the dash of the car and the steering wheel and coo at them in a soothing voice. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You're going to work for me now, aren't you? You're a pretty little girl, aren't you?” 

Rolling your eyes and inhaling deeply, you turn the key again and the engine sputters and chokes almost catching but it doesn't and you grunt. 

You spend the next fifteen minutes alternating between spewing pretty words at the car and shouting ugly insults, but the car is dead. Finally you give up and call your dad. 

“Dad, the stupid car won't start!” you whine like a teenager, not caring because you're annoyed and upset. 

“Have you tried-...”

“Yes!” You interrupt. “I've tried everything! I've tried being nice and petting it, and I've tried being mean and hitting it. None of it is working!”

You hear Ace's loud guffaws in the background and instantly blush. “One of those options usually gets me started!” He shouts and you ignore him. You hadn't realised you were on speaker. Shanks starts to go into detail about what you should do but you just sigh in exasperation. 

“Can you come help me, dad? Please?” You add another little whine to your voice because that might do the trick. He sighs on the other end and concedes so you tell him exactly where you are parked. 

You still try to get the car to work while you wait, but it only makes you more and more frustrated. On your last attempt, you make the engine overheat and smoke billows everywhere, so you get out of the car, open the hood and wave your hands around to disperse the smoke. 

The smell of burnt oil and smoke is overpowering, and you are soon assaulted by a coughing fit before the cloud dissipates and you manage to take a look inside. Supporting  your weight on your hands, you lean inside, certain that you can find whatever is wrong with it despite having zero knowledge of mechanics. You have absolutely no idea what you are looking for. 

“Princess, you wanna kill me?” Ace's voice is deeper than you've ever heard it, and he manages to surprise you enough to elicit a small gasp. 

“Ace!”

He's leaning against the hood of his jeep, legs crossed, a hand on his chest and a smirk on his lips as his eyes drink you in. At least he has a shirt on for once, which is a first since your reencounter. “You can't lean like that while wearing a tiny dress.” He emphasises with hand gestures so you get his point. “Someone might see more than you intended.” His smirk grows. 

Your eyes pierce his without any hint of amusement. “Are you saying that you saw my butt, Mr. Someone?”

His laugh bubbles up in a sweet sound as his freckles dance along with the vibrations and you have to force yourself not to get dragged along into laughter as well. 

“I'm not saying that. I just don't want someone else to see it.” You can't control the small blush that fills your cheeks with embarrassment. The way Ace manages to make you flustered is almost infuriating. 

“Where's my dad?” You ask, deadpan. 

“Couldn't make it.”

“Meaning?” You are proudly becoming Ace-fluent and understanding that everything he says has a double meaning. 

“I volunteered.”

“That's what I thought.” You sigh and he laughs. “Can you actually help?”

He moves away from his jeep and approaches you, supporting one hand on the hood and the other on his hip while casually glancing over the engine. “That's totally fried.” He points at the engine and shakes his head. “You'll need to come with me.” With another languid smirk he points at his jeep. 

“You're bullshitting.”

“I resent that.” His hurt-boy act almost convinces you. 

“No you don't!” 

“I don't. I just like to see you mad at me.” 

You huff and place both hands on your hips while glaring at him. “Be serious, Ace!”

He sighs and this time actually leans properly into the hood, starting to mess with some parts. You have no idea if he's just touching things for the sake of it or if he actually knows what he's doing. 

“I know what I'm doing.” Is he a mind reader? “I help Franky at the firehouse all the time. He's the mechanic, but I know a few basics.”

“Firehouse?”

“Yeah, I'm a firefighter!” He exclaims as if it's something you should've known by now. 

“I didn’t know that.”

“Luffy works with me there as well. It’s hardly a job when we have as much fun as we do.” He chuckles softly. “I guess we’re lucky firefighters since there are barely any accidents where people get hurt. It’s mostly forest fires or small car accidents.”

You nod. “The perks of a small town.” You mumble as you lean closer to see what he’s doing and your shoulders bump and brush together. He’s warm and taut but you focus your eyes on his hands, paying no mind to your closeness. You notice that he’s screwing some oily nuts. He uses just the tip of his middle finger to turn the nuts, and the precision with which he does so is insane.

And he smells nice. How can he smell so good if he’s been working with your father all morning? He smells like…  nature! Some sort of sandalwood or cedarwood with a fresh hint of pine. It’s intoxicating and you try to breathe as little as possible near him.  

“Yeah, and that’s why I have time to help your dad and learn new stuff. Franky’s the genius mechanic, but I’ve got a few tricks.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, but you don’t look at him.

You're still distracted by the nuts and the amount of oil making his fingers glisten as he twirls them. You’re not usually a very carnal girl, but Ace does things to you and your body. Uncontrollable things. Inadvertently, you wet your lower lip and let it catch between your teeth, humming at his answer, or at his actions, you can't quite tell, except that hum sounded quite close to a low grunt. “That's… interesting.” 

Wow. Awesome brain power. You almost kick yourself for that but he immediately catches on and stops his motions, his eyes looking at you hungrily as they pause on your lips and the way you're biting them. Then travel up to your eyes and it’s almost as if he leans into you, like magnets being pulled close together. So close. 

“You alright there, princess?” He exhales sultrily as his warm breath tingles near your face, and you gasp, coming out of your bliss and scratching your head with nervousness. 

“Yes, yes. I'm fine.” You train your eyes back on the car’s insides. “So, is it overheating?”

“Damn right it is.” He mumbles making you look up once more and his eyes never leave your lips. Your breath catches as you pull away from the hood to gain some distance from him. 

But as you do, you take a step back towards the open road, just as a car is going by. 

“Watch it!” He yelps as his oily hand grasps your forearm with a strong grip, that’s sure to bruise, and he pulls you towards him making you collide with his chest with a sound oomph. “That was freaking close!”

Your heart is banging against your chest in an insane rhythm, the adrenaline of almost being hit by a car making you tremble and gasp for air. Ace’s hand is still gripping your forearm tightly and it’s starting to hurt but you can’t seem to find your voice. 

“Drive slower, asshole! You’re in the city” He screams at the car, his other hand wrapping protectively around you and settling on your head, pulling you flush against him. It’s a weird dichotomy, this feeling. One hand holds you tightly with a deathly vice while the other protects and soothes you with a soft caress.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent - that strong wooden scent - trying to ground yourself and will your heart to calm down. 

“Are you alright?” He mutters your name softly, trying to shake you out of your slight shock. 

Nodding fervently you pull back, away from his warmth and his intoxicating scent. You find your voice and force it out with a shaky breath. “You’re hurting me, Ace.”

He eyes you quizzically for a moment before realising he’s still holding your arm as if you’re about to be taken away from him. His grip relaxes instantly and he raises his hands releasing a string of apologies. 

“Ah, crap, sorry. I didn’t realise I was still holding you that tightly.”

Your arm hurts and will definitely bruise, but you don’t want him to feel bad about saving you, so you give it a quick massage and dismiss the subject with a smile. “Thank you, Ace. That was quick thinking.”

His face seems deadly serious and you had yet to witness this side of him. “It shouldn’t have to be necessary. The asshole was driving way out of limits. I should’ve gotten his plate number to give to Zoro.” He sighs as his eyes leave the road and finally settle back on you. “You sure you’re alright?”

The slight edge of his voice makes you realise he was also scared, despite not showing it, and you are deeply grateful. “I really am.”

“Oh, shit. I smeared oil all over your arm, hang on.” You look at the arm he was gripping and it is, indeed, covered in greasy oil that transferred from his hand, but you’re fine with it, you’re about to go home, anyway. Yet Ace doesn’t relent, he seems to be looking for a rag or something to wipe your arm with.

“I think I have some wipes in-... no, Ace! That’s not necessary!” But you’re too late. Off with the shirt he goes and now you start to think that he might be allergic to any kind of shirt since he’s always so keen on having his torso bare. 

“I’ll clean you up in a second.” He uses his shirt to wipe your arm and you sigh, knowing full well that this is a useless fight and you can’t win, so you just let him do his thing. 

A string of giggles and high-pitched squeals makes you turn your head to the sidewalk. Sure enough there are two girls giggling in each other’s arms, ogling Ace’s form and you frown.

“Hiiiiii, Ace!” They say in unison, their voices hitting a note that would’ve been able to shatter the finest of crystal glasses. 

Ace’s job is thorough, though, and he only turns when there’s no trace of oil on your arm. But when he does turn, it’s with a cheeky smirk and a tip of his hat. “Hello, ladies!” He leans his hand back into the hood of the car so he can give his full attention to them.

They giggle some more and you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Pathetic.” Mumbling curses between your teeth, you close the hood with vigour, making Ace yelp because you almost caught his hand in the process. “Sorry.” You scorn, not sorry at all. 

Then you reach inside and take out your purse and car keys, locking it in the process, and walk towards Ace’s jeep.

“Let’s just go.” You state coldly.

Why are you acting so jealous? It’s not like Ace is anything to you. You’re not special, you’re nothing to him. 

And you don’t want to be anything to him. So maybe get a grip and stop acting bitchy?

The girls wave goodbye at Ace and one of them tells him to call her because she misses him. You’re not quite sure how your eyes don’t fall out of their sockets from the force with which you roll them. 

Acting bitchy it is, then, you decide as you settle into the passenger seat.

He finally climbs into his jeep and you’re about to ask if he’s seriously going to drive without a shirt on, when he reaches into the backseat - leaning towards your side and making you turn to the window so you don't have to face his naked chest right up your nose - and retrieves another crumpled shirt, putting it on in a swift movement. 

Your eyes follow his earlier movement, to see if there’s an infinite pile of shirts back there, and you release a light snort through your nose at the sight you discover. There’s a folded duvet and a pillow, and thinking about the size of the bed of his jeep, your head instantly makes the assumption on why he keeps that in his car. 

You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to think about it, it just happens. Your mind is stronger than your will and, in a split second, pictures of you and Ace in the back of that jeep course through your head.

The open night sky above you, shining with stars, little dots that act as sole witnesses to your acts of passion;

Languid kisses that trail from your neck, to your chest and end in your lower belly, promising more;

Feather like touches that start on your entwined hands, where he places them above your head. His fingers trace the inside of your raised forearm, tickle your armpit, and follow along your side to your ribs, settling on the bone of your hip, stealing your breath away;

His body slotted above yours, his knee between your legs, keeping them open for him as his chest lowers above you and his lips claim yours;

You shake your head vigorously, mentally chastising yourself for what your mind conjured. He’s a player! You don’t need another fuckboy in your life. Hell, you don’t need another man in your life, period!

“Do you want me to call Kid? He owns the mechanic shop and he can tow your car.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it later. Just take me home, Ace.” You realise how cold you sound and you’re pretty sure he realises that too because he keeps looking at you with his eyebrow raised.

“What happened to your mood, princess? I’m sure Kid can fix your car in a heartbeat.”

He’s seriously that clueless? Figures.

Setting your sight on the open window and the view outside as he starts the jeep, you shake your head.

“Sure. Don’t call me princess.”

Ace settles an arm behind your headrest and turns his body to look back as he reverses the jeep and you force your head to stay still and your eyes to stay glued on the post office signpost across the street.

Fuckboy, player, womaniser. Fuckboy, player, womaniser.

You keep repeating that mantra without fail until he finally faces forward and drives the car. There are few things sexier than a hot man reversing the car like that and you’re not about to add that image of Ace to your already scrambled brain. You refuse. 

“Are your panties in a twist, princess?” He chuckles.

“Two things, Ace. Three, actually.” You raise your fingers as you go and this time you actually look at him. “Don’t talk about my panties, don’t talk to me the rest of the way, and don’t call me princess!” You emphasise the last sentence and end with a hiss and a huff followed by crossing your arms over your chest and turning back to the window. 

You can almost hear the cogs turning inside his head. You’re pretty sure he’s reliving every interaction with you up until this moment and why you’re acting pissed. But you’re not about to admit to him the real reason. 

It’s a freaking stupid reason!

You’re not entitled to be upset. You’re not even entitled to be jealous or pissed. Yet, here you are. So you might as well just roll with it. But you’ll never admit it. Ever.

The ride is tense and it seems longer than it actually is, so you can’t wait to jump out of the jeep as soon as he parks it outside your house, but he presses the button that locks the doors and you sigh while turning to him with a raised brow and pursed lips, waiting for him to speak.

“What did I do?”

“That’s a good start. Always admit to guilt. Men are always at fault.” You snort and try the door, even though you know it won’t budge. 

“Princess, look at me. I really don’t know what I did wrong.” The uncertainty in his voice almost makes you cave, but there’s that freaking nickname again. And it’s getting under your skin. 

“Don't. Call. Me. Princess.”

“That’s it? Is that why you’re upset? ‘Cause I can stop. I don’t want to, you’re my princess.” He jokes but you’re not in the mood for jokes. 

“You know what I think, Ace?” Your angry stare bores into his eyes as his smile suddenly dissolves. “I think you call all your girls princess, or sweetheart, or gorgeous or another stupid, infantile pet name, because you can’t be bothered to learn their actual names!” Your hand grips the handle and you try to open the door again, this time with more force, yet it still doesn’t budge. “At least that way, you’re safe when you actually forget their name because they’re just another notch in your freaking cowboy belt!”

He just stares at you, jaw slack, while his hand grips the wheel. 

“Open this door, Ace! I want to leave.”

You huff again but it takes him a moment to react. Downcasting his gaze he nods and unlocks the door without another word. 

“Thanks for the help.” You tell him before slamming the door and climbing the steps to the porch. This was not how you had envisioned the end of this afternoon. 

At all.

[andre-and-cal]

Do you got any scary Andre and Cal HCs?

Yes, I’ve got a few scary headcanons for em !! Enjoy :3

Scary Zero Day HCs

Sometimes, Cal steals little things from Andre. He feels he gains a sense of control over Andre from it, knowing he has Andre’s stuff and is “close to him” when he’s not around, especially when he or Andre are out of town. He plays dumb whenever Andre asks Cal if he’s seen where his chain necklace went, or that old shirt of his he just can’t find anywhere. And yet Calvin puts on a small, believable smirk, teases him for losing such a belonging, and denies having seen it, all the while clutching whatever item he stole from him in his pocket. He rarely snatches clothing items, since it’d be hard to get away with that.

Not to say he hasn’t, of course, but he’s only stolen one of Andre’s shirts and a pair of sunglasses from him. Andre had to get new ones as a result. Cal doesn’t want to risk Andre catching him pulling off a shirt from his hanger in his closet, doesn’t want to amp up the anxiety he already faces from stealing something miniature. So, his go-tos are rings, necklaces, pencils, etc. Yet, he leaves Andre’s dog tag necklace alone— since their dog tags are a matching symbol of their unspoken suicide pact. And after Zero Day, when Cal’s parents were cleaning up his room and preparing to get rid of certain items of his, they discovered a small box in his closet stashed behind board games and old VHS tapes of him and Andre in middle school. This small box containing some of Andre’s goods, which Cal had carefully pocketed or shoved into his overnight bag when Andre was in the bathroom or not looking his direction.

Cal does like to watch Andre change, whether he’s aware or unaware of him watching. One time, Calvin took the camcorder and barged into Andre’s room while he was changing, having pretended he was in the bathroom, and he walked up to him, filming him half naked— he was only in boxers and socks, to be exact. But he didn’t stop recording, even though Andre quickly grew embarrassed and visibly pissed off and demanded for him to put the camcorder down. Since Cal was refusing, Andre pushed him out of his room within a couple seconds. And later, alone in his bedroom, Cal extracted the camcorder footage and put it on a more personal tape of his, if you catch my drift.

Cal shows very little emotion when someone, often Brad, provoke him into boiling with rage. Typically, he’s not a verbally explosive individual, because he’s more of like a quiet “I could kill you right now and nobody would find your dead body”. And it isn’t uncommon for him to resort to subtle antisocial behavior or outward violence. After all, if you poke the bear, he’ll wake up. For example, before he and Andre egged Brad’s house, Cal wanted to slash Brad’s tires or break a couple of his house windows or car windows. While Andre wanted to agree as well, he also knew he had to be rational and calm Cal down, since he knew they would both get arrested for vandalism if they followed through with that.

In addition, he harbors shallow empathy toward other people, especially those he isn’t close to. Though, due to his shy personality, many of his peers remain oblivious to this. Andre can tell how he cares so little even when something rare— like a medical emergency or an accident— happens to someone in public or to a peer at school. He just doesn’t care, and hypothetically, if he had to call the police for someone, he’d take his sweet ass time doing so. He’s not very sympathetic, he’s not panicky that their life may be at stake. Andre has to scold him and tells him to least pretend he cares so nobody grows suspicious of his indifference, for which Cal responds with, “But it’s hard since nobody is at our level, you know?”, which is basically Cal’s way of saying other people don’t matter, except him and his comrade, Andre.

Andre can go from 0 to 100 pretty fast. When he’s enraged, he’s enraged. It’s usually hard for him to calm down until he acts out and takes his anger out on an object… or someone. A few times in the past, he’s seriously punched Cal when they were fighting, but Cal always made it equal and punched him back. Andre has gotten into a few fights with Brad before, too, but he doesn’t win any fights against the guy. A student on the track team is not winning against the captain of the wrestling team. Sometimes he imagines himself pulling out a shotgun and blasting Brad’s brains to bits.

Andre and Cal are around each other so much that it feels like a part of Andre’s brain is missing when Calvin isn’t around. So the nights Cal is busy, for example with Rachel or his family, if he tells Andre where he’ll be gone, sometimes Andre will drive to the place Calvin is at and park a good distance away from the building so Cal doesn’t notice him following him. Andre doesn’t get out or anything, just sits in his car. He wants to make sure he’s okay, in his mind. He worries about Cal, after all. Too much, even. He needs to know he’s alright, because to Andre, “Anything can happen”. He only stalks Cal once in a while; he doesn’t do it all the time, because he knows how not-normal it is to do such a thing. Moreover, he doesn’t want Calvin to find out about him doing this.

Andre knows some areas in New Stratford where you could bury a body and get away with it, where it would truly never be found. His mother, with her maternal protectiveness toward her son, often mentioned the places where it would be best to hide dead bodies in town, referring to what she’d do if someone ever hurt Andre. Now, at the time, Andre didn’t really understand what she meant and he had no idea where these places were. But now, as an older teen, he knows, and he still keeps them in mind. But Andre doesn’t want to kill anyone yet— not until Zero Day. He knows he’d be too clumsy and anxious with handling a corpse. But for him, it’s still good information to mentally note.

Andre isn’t just fixated on the concept of violence within the military; he’s also focused on the sheer devastation, message, and the impact war leaves behind. That’s why, from what I could see, he was focused a little more on the aftermath of Zero Day in the film. He wanted to leave him and Cal’s mark behind, like the paths warfare leaves behind between countries. He even tried to mimic some army poses with his guns during the massacre. He wanted to “declare war” on him and Cal’s school during Zero Day and hopefully witness the effects of the planned tragedy after traveling cross-country to do the same to other schools. But obviously, this didn’t end up happening, as they cut their lives short during the shooting. However, he and his comrade still left a greater, more sorrowful influence than they anticipated, even in death.

[thecoffeelorian]

Anomaly (Jod Na X Reader)

A/N: I typed this out in the span of a morning on my phone, and then worked my way up from there. Anyways, to business...

Title: Anomaly

Chapter Title: The Stowaway

Genre: Drama/Romance

Word Count: 1,077 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: I have zero idea if Jod is going to be either the pirate I think he is or the ex-Jedi that others believe him to be...however, if none of these turn out to be true, then I'll just mark this as an AU and keep on trucking along. 'Nuff said!

No Pressure Tags: @ladysongmaster @braveincafleet @ireadwithmyears and anyone else who might want to catch the first-ever Jod Na x Reader story in this fandom! Thank you for your consideration!

ANOMALY

This doesn’t feel like the Great Work to me, you think to yourself, glancing around in silence as the Reclamation Committee gathers at At Attin’s first, and probably last, official spaceport. Originally, you would be deep into your latest pile of holo-work in the Undersecretary’s office, a half-drank cup of caf on your right and the few images of your surviving relatives sitting still upon your left.

Thanks to the curiosity of a handful of local children, however…everyone’s daily routine, yours included, has since been upended be it for better or for worse. In fact, the tension’s visible on everyone’s face as they await the incoming ship, and most likely for good reason—the ones said to be on board, at least in theory, are going to have a lot of explaining to do.

As for you, you’ve got both eyes upon your datapad screen like the good little Intern you are, making as many mental notes as possible while you wait. So far, according to the reports—or, at least, the official documents that you had been granted access to—all four of the missing children had been found safe; they had then been directed onto a secure flight back home; and, once the growing blur of that same flight could be seen from the platform and the volume of all human conversation around you grew alongside it, they would certainly be participating in a very long debriefing once those docking bay doors finally opened.

And yet...everything that you hadn’t been informed about becomes, as soon as the one known as Neel is the first to step off, pretty sparkling clear once the security droids all aim their weapons at the back of the ship.

“No, wait! Don’t hurt him, he’s a friend!”

To your surprise, if not also the surprise of everyone else around you, there was a fifth person on board. This person must have been halfway decent enough to keep this little group under their watchful eye, for the remaining kids still on the ship—Fern, Wim, and KB respectively—all add their voices to Neel’s protest as they’re coaxed onto the platform, Wim going so far as to try and pull the blaster out of a droid’s hands before a short pop of static electricity teaches him differently.

And, once those same droids give the order for them to come out with their hands up…your first sight of that fifth person all but takes your breath away.

Oh. Dear. Me.

Yes, there’s a man hiding back there, not some Wookiee in a fit of rage…but he’s not just any man as the ones among you already have been. No, this one has the equal look of both predator and prey written into his body language, for the look he gives the security team is nearly an even mix of one about to shoot down several live targets and one about to run for cover, almost like he's known both such situations in the course of his life...but isn't about to breathe a word of it.

To your growing sense of alarm, he’s also far too damned attractive for his own good, let alone yours. Sure, there are the signs of middle age upon him, why would there not be—and yet, other than the visible age lines upon his face, the stiffness in his steps, and the traces of silver within his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself from running a visual scan of everything else he’d brought down to the surface. Things like...the hard set of his shoulders, the sharp outline of his jaw, and—worst of all—those startling blue eyes that you swore saw everything ahead, behind, and every other direction around him in a matter of seconds. Eyes that could see right through you if you’re foolish enough to let them, though you can only hope you never fall for any piece of this stranger’s charm, direct or otherwise.

And if that alone hadn’t somehow warned you in advance not to look too long, not to examine him too closely, and above all else, not to allow yourself to care too much about what might happen to this mysterious stranger…the reaction of the head droid would finally drive it all home.

”Jod Na Nawood, also known as ‘Crimson Jack’, also known as 'Captain Silvo', in the name of the Republic, you are hereby under arrest…”

Crimson Jack…? Captain Silvo? Him?! That one was the 'Thief Of A Thousand Treasures'?

You’d heard of a few stories about that scary figure, but that was all they were supposed to be. Stories. Legends. Tales one told to their children in order to get them to behave at the dinner table, and not real people of flesh, blood, and bone, because there were supposed to be no such thing.

Especially not away from the pages of a holobook, let alone outside of any datapad video feeds.

And yet…as this infamous Crimson Jack finally allowed the binders to be snapped around his wrists, one sad look sent towards the children before being taken into custody, it was here that you had to start asking yourself whether or not some of these stories were, in truth, full of facts as solid as durasteel—and if so, whether this stranger was truly as dangerous as the stories whispered in the dark made him out to be.

It would also be about a few seconds later that those startling blue eyes would just happen to meet yours, an even stranger feeling of both warmth and cool air pass between you like the rush of a long-dormant hyperdrive slowly working itself back up to full power and, finally, a phantom set of words echoing within your mind just as surely as if he had spoken them aloud.

I see you.

Several minutes would pass by until you snapped yourself out of your stunned silence and came back to reality, a few familiar faces around you making sure you were all right, that no tricks or funny business or strange arcane rituals had taken your mind over where you stood—and yet, for all of that, there was only one thought left in you, only one question that made sense—and so, even though this man was no longer in your sight, still you asked it out loud for everyone else to hear.

“And if I were to get inside your head, Mister ‘Crimson Jack’...what would I see?”

[beerok23]

Runaway Groom AU - Chapter 19 - NOW COMPLETE

With the compliments of my beta @somewhere-in-wales

Excerpt from Chapter 19 - A Very Ineffable Cock-up

‘She’s our Creator, Crawley! Without her, we wouldn’t even exist!’ The demon’s thin fingers grabbed his long-time hereditary enemy's forearms. Crawley wouldn’t lie, he’d dreamed about touching the angel’s arms more than once during the millennia. He’d dreamed of being close to him, of being intimate with him, of hearing Ezra whispering his name against his ears in the darkest hours. And yet, this was the first time that Crawley dared reach out to the being he considered a best friend, a teammate in a group formed by the two of them. He shook Ezra, trying to put some sense into his wonderful, clever brain. ‘We don’t belong to her anymore, angel! She lost any claim on us when it turned out what kind of horrible creepy god she actually was!’ Ezra shook his head in denial, not wanting to hear the truth spoken so openly and dangerously by the demon. ‘Ezra!’ Another shake. ‘She doesn’t own us anymore! We belong to ourselves. We belong – to each other…’ The demon’s voice had turned into a whisper as the storm announcing the Apocalypse raged around them, threatening to destroy everything and everyone in its path. ‘We belong to this world. To OUR world!’ ‘Crawly--’ ‘And we belong to the humans. Remember all those silly, marvellous people that we’ve protected over the millennia? Where was God then, angel?’ Ezra’s eyes were wide now, and he was speechless, confused, and scared. ‘She wasn’t there, Ezra. WE were there. Together.’ ‘Together?’ Ezra muttered; a word pronounced as the prayer of a dying man. ‘Yes.’ Crawley was shivering too, now. Because Ezra was finally realising that they were more than what their Creator had programmed them for, so much more. ‘You and me. On our side.’ ‘Our side,’ Ezra repeated. And then he smiled that beaming smile of his. A smile (and Ezra had no idea of this, but Crawley had been a witness since day zero) that had converted millions of people to the side of the good since the Garden of Eden. A perfect, wonderful smile that had inspired Crawley to fall in love with the angel as soon as he’d met him, on that fateful day when the first Man and Woman had fallen and Ezra had sheltered him with his pristine white wing to cover a demon from the drops of the very first rain. Crawley offered his hand to Ezra, and this time the angel didn’t hesitate to take it. They walked towards the horizon with their fingers entwined. Two inseparable celestial beings. The ying to each other’s yang. Whatever their future may hold, Crawley and Ezra would face it, joined by an invisible and unbreakable line. They would face the storm, they would face their enemies, they would face their (forgotten) Creator. Together. On their side.

[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

I'm both sad and happy that this story is finally over. I still have a little thing to post (a short chapter 20), probably in time for Christmas, but I don't want to spoil too much 💛💛💛💛

Stay tuned, because I'm working on a new original AU, with a loooooot of pining (but no angst 💚).

Thank you all so much for all the love ❤❤❤❤❤

TAG LIST

@firephoenix2305 @on1occasionfork @moralsofanalleycatsposts @captainblou @bellisima-writes @shadesofecclescakes

With the ineffable trailer created by @ineffablerainstorm and the support of my second beta @pookasluagh 💛🧡

[oflights]

wip snip 8.1

thank you for the tag, @buhloodweeeave! your snip looks like so much fun!

my current wip is a fic called Travelling Together (based on that w.s. merwin poem, yes, i am who i am). the premise is this:

After the tadpoles are gone and everyone goes their separate ways, Astarion and Gale realize they can still hear each other’s thoughts. Probably because they’re soulmates.

and here's a snippet!

“Astarion?” Gale gasps out loud. “When did you learn Sending? I thought you lost the sending stone I gave you! Did you find—wait. I’m not Sending, but you’ve been responding to me; how is that possible? Did you discover a new kind of stone? A more advanced working of the spell? You must tell me all about it—” Gale! Astarion shouts in his head. Somehow just the sound of his name in Astarion’s distinct voice, angry as it is, sets Gale’s heart fluttering slightly, which is quite pathetic and embarrassing, actually. Ugh, stop—you’re thinking far too fast and too much, I can’t make heads or tails of it. Slow down, will you? Just—think. Quietly, slowly. “That’s not exactly my strong suit,” Gale says, and Astarion immediately counters you don’t have to talk. Just think. As if you’re Sending. “But I’m not Sending,” Gale says, and then he flinches because he feels like someone has just smacked an open palm over his face. He stares down at his hands, which haven’t moved, and looks around his kitchen again. It’s still empty, if warm and cozy, the morning sun dappled on his honey-colored floorboards and baskets of fruits and grains hanging from various hooks, humming with spells to stay fresh. There’s the wall of shelved preserves and drawers of ingredients, everything in its right place. A fire crackles in the hearth, ready to cook his breakfast, and a few birds land periodically on his windowsill, twittering merrily as if they know that Tara’s not about. But for those birds, it’s just Gale here, alone in his kitchen.      Did you feel that? Astarion asks in his head. Gale narrows his eyes at—at nothing. His still empty kitchen. He’s beginning to wonder if he might still be rather drunk. What about this? Invisible fingers pinch at Gale’s left nipple, sharp and sudden, with a familiar twist—“Ouch!” Gale yelps, clutching his hand over his chest. “That was—how did you—that was entirely inappropriate given the current state of our relationship—or lack thereof—” Gale Astarion cuts in mentally, even managing a long, mental sigh. Stop talking. You’re giving me a bloody headache. I woke up with a headache Gale thinks forcefully, lips pressed together in consternation. Did you give that to me? From your waking musings, I believe the headache is from the alcohol last night, you lightweight Astarion tells him. Gale feels his face go hot. So you heard—I mean, you can hear— I can hear your thoughts, darling; at least the ones that make sense. Some of them are too fast for me, especially when you’re talking—and gods, that makes so much sense. As his knees suddenly go a bit wobbly, Gale sits down hard in the nearest kitchen chair and stares despairingly, still at nothing. I don’t understand he thinks pointedly, beyond caring about the admission. He doesn’t even mind Astarion’s answering jab. Well, that must be a first.

tagging @ashamedbliss @junietuesday @hausofthestars @shallanigans and @koalamatcha to share snippets (with zero pressure!!)

[akookminsupporter]

https://www.tumblr.com/akookminsupporter/774617578661445632?source=share

Your tags on this post speak to me so much! I'm not a shipper but obviously I'm very interested in Jikook's dynamic which is why I'm here. And I'm so sick of coming across videos about Jikook that are embarrassingly slowed down accompanied with unnecessary commentary from the editor of the video. Like sweety, there's no reason to do that. Of all the ships in Bangtan, Jikook is genuinely the least one that ever needed "analyses" on all that nonsense because 99% of the things those two say or convey to each other are clear for anyone who uses their brain to see and really don't need any analyzing.

Just the other day on Instagram, I came across that cute video of JK watching Jimin cry on stage and you can just *see* how it's affecting him, so much so that at the end of Jimin's speech he decides to go to him and comfort him when it's obvious he initially planned to stay where he is. It's like his body reacted on its own.

But here's this delusional ass shipper putting commentary on the video like "nah I don't care my Jiminie needs me" the moment you see JK act on his emotions. Like I really don't know if that's just me but it annoys the shit out of me. And I just can't help but argue all the time with Jikookers about it and of course they call me an anti-Jikooker or Taekooker cosplaying as a Jikooker in response.

Yes, I can share your overall views about something and still call you delusional in how you talk about it. Thinking you're delusional doesn't mean I'm saying you're delusional about believing your ship being real, just in how you behave about those beliefs (don't know if I'm making sense here but I hope you get what I'm trying to say)

That moment is one of the most beautiful (and very underrated by Jikook shippers, might I add) moments between Jimin and Jungkook and it SPEAKS FOR ITSELF. Anybody with eyes and well-functioning brain would look at it and think "oh it really hurts him to see that one cry, oh there he goes to comfort him and tries to cheer him up" WITHOUT someone inserting thought bubbles on their heads in the video, God help me🤦🏾‍♀.

I'm sorry but it's giving Taekooker. The ships that need slow-mo, red arrows, thought bubbles, moments taken out of context and all that exaggerated analysis video jazz are the ones who have absolutely zero to show when the content is real and unedited. Jikook has never been one of those ships. Y'all need to get a grip.

Anyway, I absolutely love the clip you shared. I know the way Jungkook looks at Jimin is considered one of those cliché reasons many Jikookers have used to express why they believe in them. But it's my number one favourite thing about them idc. Jimin is so beautiful, inside and out - one of the most beautiful people to ever bless this world with their existence. But when you look at him through Jungkook's eyes, it's as if he becomes even more so.

I have the exact same problem with Jikookers but on TikTok. My God, that place is a nest of misinformation and delusion. And it’s so annoying because there’s just no need for it. There’s no need to slow down videos to “prove” something that isn’t there. No need to slow down videos to hear voices or things that don’t exist. And absolutely no need to claim that some random person in the background of a video was one of them just because they were wearing black or white and had a hat or a beanie. And it’s definitely not necessary to insist that Jimin was in Qatar with Jungkook.

I'm sorry but it's giving Taekooker. The ships that need slow-mo, red arrows, thought bubbles, moments taken out of context and all that exaggerated analysis video jazz are the ones who have absolutely zero to show when the content is real and unedited. Jikook has never been one of those ships.

I completely agree with you.

If that reason is cliché, then I’m the most cliché fan in the world LOL. Every time I see a clip of Jungkook looking at Jimin like that, I just imagine him thinking: Damn, he’s way too cute. aajajajajajajaj.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/753405110589259776/note-spoilers-on-this-ask-for-anyone-who-hasnt

I’m this anon, and using your anon box to reply to a bad take in the reblogs of it lol.

1. aO3 treats the show and book series as separate fandoms for Bridgerton. My friend’s genderbend fic though is based on the books — thought I made that clear here. And yes book fans were being genuinely homophobic in her comments, not just her interpreting them not shipping it as “homophobia.” It was full of “get out of OUR tag” and claiming just writing a female character in a male version or shipping her male love interest with a guy was “misogyny,” exactly as I said. It’s a huge problem in the fandom. The main Reddit sub is so full of homophobia that queer fans had to spin out a separate inclusive sub called r/bridgertonlgbt. I’ve heard of people on TikTok being called “bourgeois degenerate” and “groomer” just for questioning why it’s supposedly such a dramatic and horrible change to make Michael into Michaela in the show.

2. Can we finally fucking retire the really tired, knee jerk “book is always better” attitude that has never been universally true anyway lol. The books Bridgerton are based on are pretty middling het histrom that repeat plots so much between them that that’s one of the big changes the show has had to make — just not have seasons 1 and 2 follow the same plot beats like books 1 and 2 did. The show has had to make a lot of changes just because it has a bigger audience than your average het histrom reader and while I haven’t loved every shift, it is overall better for it. Or just like, focusing on more than just each season’s main couple like the books only do — also better! The subplots are some of the most fun parts of that show, but also, it makes sense that people are going to continue to want to follow their favs from season to season and not just zero in on each couple. Yes I’ve read all the books. They simply are just not that great, TV is a different medium than books anyway and so certain changes are necessary, and frankly most of the loudest parts of the “book fandom” online who complain about the changes are people who read the books because of the show anyway. They’re all wildly inconsistent in what they consider acceptable changes: they’re largely on board with making the universally white books more racially diverse, but not adding queerness and gender diversity. Why is one ok but not another? Especially when a lot of them are ok with sad or bittersweet queer stories in subplots like Brimsley’s but not happy stories for main characters. Why is that, I wonder? A lot of people are pretending to be “book snobs” as a mask for bigotry, or just have bad taste, but regardless I think we need to get over the idea that stalwart defense of some mediocre and overly tropey romance novels is more elevated or intellectual and like the show isn’t an improvement in being less lazy about the cliches of that genre than the original author. (Seriously, I read a lot of romance novels, so this is not a knock on the genre as a whole or its readers — but the Bridgerton books are SO lazy and SO repetitive. Honestly I think a lot of the book defenders need to read more histrom themselves. Then maybe they’d see how weak and lazy those books can be compared to what else is out there.)

Fandom please learn basic things about how adaptation between different mediums works 2k24 also stop assuming that consuming a story in text form over another is an inherently intellectual activity

--

A pretentious friend of mine who loves Shonda Rhimes was going on at me a while ago about how she ~always reads the book first~ and then waiting for applause as if that's unusual!

She then tried to launch into how shocked she was by the books being... well, lowbrow trash, but she had some complex and boring way of explaining this.

I was like "Honey, you do know what a regency romance novel is, right? Right?!"

I mean, there are adaptations that are nearly exactly like the middle tier of romance novels. They're movie length and they air on Lifetime. This was a change not only of medium but of overall target audience and vibe.

[gamerwoman3d]

Pretend I'm Him 

Imagine secretly banging Kuai Liang before the shit hit the fan at Ying Fortress.  In the aftermath of the fallout, the grandmaster wants a word…

[My apologies to other genders - lady anatomy used, from the start this time. Additionally, you don't have to agree with what this reader character thinks: just understand her information has been filtered. She is not omnipotent. Her information about the fallout is limited to what her clan/grandmaster has said about those events.]

Tags: SOFTER Bi-Han.

[Yes this is MK1 Bi-Han x Reader]

[🔞Spicy/Explicit after the cut🔞]

Imagine this non-committal relationship with Kuai Liang that was supposed to remain a secret. Imagine sneaking out on the regular, just to feel his hot tongue on your clit. You learned every soundproof nook and cranny of the Lin Kuei stronghold like your lives depended on it, not because any threat to either of you existed here at home, but rather because if you were forced to go more than a couple of days without sex, you felt like you just might die.

And then there was some bullshit at Ying Fortress. You were already so pent up waiting for Kuai Liang to return. You knew it was serious because his brother, the Grandmaster himself, went with him to oversee the mission.  Your heart jumped for joy when you overheard that the Grandmaster finally returned, only to discover that Kuai Liang and their adopted brother were marked as traitors, and would likely never be returning to the fortress.

Sure, you were worried for Kuai Liang, for the clan, for the future. Hell, you even felt some concern for your Grandmaster's broken heart. And maybe you were a little scared for yourself: Kuai Liang wasn't the enemy when you were sleeping with him, but you did sleep with said enemy, and had some concerns about what that might mean for you if that fact was discovered going forward. After all, the Lin Kuei stronghold was your home. Its walls protect your friends, family, and your entire support network, all clumped together in this small community which calls the stronghold home. Their protection might be at risk if the clan begins to suspect you of colluding with a traitor.  But deep down, in your shadowy id, the second you heard the news, your initial gut reaction was "FUCK. WHAT AM I GONNA DO TO GET MY NEEDS MET, NOW?”

No one can blame you. Every day that Kuai Liang was gone was a day that you burned inside for the lack of him.  You were so excited when you thought he was coming home, so energized, so ready to extinguish the flames, so wet.  

What a fucking letdown. And it was days ago.

You stared at the blank encrypted messaging app on your phone. If you messaged him, and were discovered, it could be taken as an act of consorting with the enemy. If you didn't, it might seem to him like you didn't care. If you reached out, he might think you were stalking him to help your clan hunt him down. But the only way to stop overthinking it was to reach out and see what happens.

Kuai Liang didn't answer. You weren't being left on "seen" - it was as if he lost his phone entirely.

No closure. Fantastic. Could it get any fucking worse.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Not Kuai Liang, as you had hoped, but your best bud. You answer on the first ring, only to be interrupted by your breathless friend's frantic whispering.

"Hey! Sub-Zero's looking for you. I dunno what's going on, but I gotta go.”

You'd rather be back in school as the kid walking shamefully to the principal's office. You'd rather be back at bootcamp pounding sand in freezing temperatures.  You'd rather be a deer stuck in the headlights of a speeding semi.

You snap to your senses and delete the encrypted app from your phone.  You straighten yourself up and do what you do best - Sneak out, and sneak around the Lin Kuei stronghold.

You hid for a minute to think, watching from the shadows as your Grandmaster's best people searched for you in an unobtrusive manner. Then, you decided to take yourself to him. His family's private domicile was far enough from yours that your immediate family wouldn't have to see or hear whatever went down. Maybe you could keep your secret a bit longer that way. Or maybe he'd murder you on the spot.

His back was to you as you approached the garden at the front of his home. He stood unmasked, and spoke to a pair of his men. The men each stole a glance at you, prompting Sub-Zero to turn and glance over his shoulder as he spoke.

He did a double-take.

He immediately dismissed the men, who walked past you as you strode up the walkway toward them.  With the whites of his eyes visible between the top of his bottom eyelid and the bottom of his brown irises, Sub-Zero's expression felt uncharacteristically soft as you approached.

"I heard that you wanted to see me, sir?" you questioned.

You held your breath.

"Yes. Don't be nervous, you're in no trouble," he said.

His voice sounded strange when he spoke gently.  It sounded strange without the muffled echo from the mask.  Both things being true at once, it was like speaking to a different person than the masked master of the training grounds. His voice wasn't the stinging gravelly growl that he used while in command. It was a husky, comforting sound, sprung from a genuine intent to calm and reassure your quivering heart.

With a wave of his hand, he invited you inside.  Someone brought tea, and he redirected it to an office in his house. Now life felt exactly like a visit to the principal's office, if upon one of the bookshelves was a photo of your shirtless lover holding your shirtless principal in a headlock.

Your eyes fixated on the photo of Scorpion and Sub-Zero. It was before Kuai Liang had the scorpion tattooed, but well after his biceps had formed into what they still are, today.  You wanted to say that you missed him dearly, but damn, you missed his body.  Staring at the divots along his obliques had you dying to feel them between your thighs once more.

Sub-Zero's eyes followed yours to the photo. For a millisecond, his eyebrows knit in pain in an otherwise bemused expression.

"Tomas took that photo... the little traitor.”

“What happened?” you asked.

“Mm. Mom called Kuai Liang to nag him over the phone. I can do a convincing imitation of him so I snuck up behind him and said ‘You can’t make me!’” Bi-han mocked.

You had to admit to yourself that his imitation in that moment was spot on. But you also forced yourself to keep quiet, even as the uncanny mockery of your lover's voice made you miss him even more.  

He continued.

“Immediately, we hear her squawking on the other end of the line, and he crushes his phone so hard in anger that the screen snapped. She always believed he actually said it and then hung up on her.”

The bemused expression faded from his face, leaving behind a pained gloss over his brown eyes.

“She was mad at him for so long. I deserved the beating he tried to give me.”

Sub-Zero reached out and gently turned the photo down upon its face before opening a locked file cabinet and rifling through its folders.  He gestured to the tea and to the seating, welcoming you to make yourself comfortable.

You thanked him, sat, and took a sip of the boiling hot tea that was served to you; it would have been seen as an act of enmity not to do so.  You held the cup for warmth and comfort.  Truthfully, the hard ceramic was stinging-hot and smooth to the touch... god damn. Must every little thing remind you of his touch. You pressed your fingers into the glazed surface to feel the sting on your fingertips, in a futile attempt to disengage yourself from the current reality. Your panic over the immediate future kept a strong hold on you, even as you wished to be back in Kuai Liang's arms.

Sub-Zero closed the drawer, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers of a file he'd withdrawn. It still wasn't apparent to you how much the man knew about your relationship with his disaffected brother. And the grandmaster had yet to state what he wanted with you. If you truly were not in trouble, does that mean he didn't know? Or was he secretly ready to send you back to the character select screen? You bit back your burning questions. Moments of excruciating silence passed.

"... Keep breathing," he instructed, trying to withhold a smirk.

You gasped a bit. You realized that you weren't just biting back the questions - you were holding back your breath.  Your breath hitched and shuddered as it fought to catch up quietly.  Sub-Zero waited until your breathing evened out to speak.

"You still haven't asked me why I wanted to see you. Do you already know?" he asked.

The question was bait. And you knew it. You shook your head and said no.

He nodded. 

"You're good. You are really good," he said.

You took the compliment in silent confusion.

"I think if anyone here could get to Kuai Liang, it's you," he said.

You swallowed. You broke a sweat.

"What makes you think that?" you asked, acting as though you were innocent of having had any prior connection.

He arches an eyebrow. At the same time he thumbs a piece of paper out of the file: a receipt from the pharmacist. The receipt showed that you were issued a few prescriptions: silver based ointment for blisters, and one slightly more embarrassing cream. You remembered needing it after a particularly hot experiment with Kuai Liang went wrong in the early days of your secret relationship.

You turn red, not when he shows it to you, but when he looks into your eyes with a cocky, knowing gaze. His eyes may as well have become the headlights; your secrets become the deer. The mess was just as bloody in your mind either way. You suddenly wish patient-provider confidentiality were a more sacrosanct part of Lin Kuei military tradition. But even if it were, the grandmaster likely had methods of extracting their information. Your heart pounded. 

He knew you'd fucked Kuai Liang. 

His voice stayed strangely dulcet, full of compassion and understanding when he next spoke. His words didn't match his timbre.

"When I read this, I came to the conclusion that you both got a little too fired up.”

"Not the puns, please. I'll go pound sand in the freezing desert, please no more puns," you thought.

You didn't mean to groan aloud at his terrible pun. It just kinda happened. You didn't expect him to soften and apologize so quickly, but he did.

"I am sorry to have brought that up. I truly am. I imagine it must have been painful, or at least deeply uncomfortable for you. To the matter at hand, let us both start by committing to being straightforward with each other. That will benefit the both of us, greatly. And now I will ask you, kindly, please do not insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance, and I will not insult yours by pretending I'm funny. Agreed?" 

“You said I wasn’t in trouble.”

“You’re not. Listen… I can't afford to make a mortal enemy out of someone who can sneak around my own home as effortlessly as you have. I had my best people searching for you, but when you arrived here, my guard was down. My back was to you. If Kuai Liang had asked you to kill me, you could have done it, right then.”

It’s true. Your eyes widened. Your thoughts were so preoccupied with whether or not he would kill you, that it never occurred to you that he could be worried about your own ability to kill him, let alone kill him in his own home at any time you desired.

He sat the papers down, cupped your face with both hands, and lifted until your eyes met his. This close, you could see the dark circles of sleeplessness form beneath his eyes. Something about the out of place strands of hair on one side of his bun made you imagine him awake all night, laying on the messy side.

“I just want to be able to sleep. I try to sleep each night knowing that on any given night, you could end my life if you wanted. I’ll sleep easier when I know where you stand. I’ll sleep much easier if I know you’re going to stay on our side. But even if you don’t, Kuai Liang is out there somewhere and I fear he is lost, suffering, and alone. I know I couldn’t stop you if you want to reach him and join his side. And even if I could stop you, I would choose to let you go, in hopes that someday maybe you can talk some sense into him. And no, I do not want to see any harm befall either of you. You are Lin Kuei. The Lin Kuei are my life. You have my word that I will continue to honor and protect your family and friends to the best of my ability if you decide to leave. But stay. Please. I would do anything for you to stay. So what is it? What do you want? What can I give you that will make you stay?”

Your face turned red between his warm hands. You hadn’t been touched by a man since they left for Ying Fortress, and your body had jumped to inappropriate conclusions beneath his touch. You couldn’t answer him. He studied your face. He shook his head and spoke.

“The only thing you want is him, isn't it?”

Well… maybe the only thing you wanted was sex. You weren't quite in love with Kuai Liang, not in the way that would have you abandoning everything you knew to join him in his fight against everyone who ever supported you. With Bi-Han’s firm grip on your face, you couldn't turn your head from your grandmaster. But you broke eye contact, casting your eyes down in shame from your inability to honestly answer that Kuai Liang was indeed the only thing you wanted. He wasn't.

“I don't want to die, and I don't want to break my oaths,” you said.

“You're not breaking your oaths. I'm willing to command you to go to him. To spy. To watch over him. To guide him and make sure he doesn't get himself killed in service to Liu Kang. You'd never be marked as an enemy, always welcome to return.”

Leave everything to go babysit a grown man? Hell naw.

“I don't want to leave…” you admitted it.

“Then look me in the eyes and tell me you are not considering running away to find him,” Bi-han gently ordered.

You turned your eyes as far away from him as you could. Logically, a man that breaks his oaths and abandons your entire community was not worthy of running toward. It should have been easy to tell Bi-han that there was no part of you that wanted to chase after Kuai Liang. But instead, you replied:

“I can't. The… the sex… was amazing. And the thought does cross my mind.”

As you said it, his breath stilled. Your words caught him off guard.

“So then it is only the sex that you want? Not the connection, the heart nor the soul?” he asked.

You certainly had not treated each other like soulmates. If anything, you and Kuai Liang had treated each other like fucktoys, and you both loved every minute of it.

“That's right,” you said.

Somewhere in your gut, you realized: if Kuai Liang had loved you, considered you his soulmate, or had even wanted to build a life with you, he would be here. He would have returned. He would have done anything to return to your side, including obey illegal orders. If he ever truly loved you, he would have at least considered joining his brother in betraying God Himself. But Kuai Liang had done none of that. He chose his path with no hesitation. He was gone from you now, and if you were honest with yourself, you always knew that the two of you weren't meant to last forever.

The thought brought angry, embarrassed tears to the brink of your eyes. You hoped you could bite them back for the duration of Bi-Han’s inquiry.

“And yet, you want it enough that you feel tempted to run to him. It burns so badly that you feel tempted to aid a deserter?” Bi-Han said.

Neither you nor Kuai Liang were serious about each other. At least not enough to label each other or go public with your fling. That's why you both kept it a secret. You should have told your Grandmaster all of this with your words when he asked if you wanted his brother's sexual services more than his heart and soul: but you said it all with a cringe and a silent nod.

Yes, it was only the sex that I wanted. Not his heart. Not his soul. you silently admitted.

Bi-Han’s face twisted into a quizzical pout, not dissimilar to a look you'd seen on your lover's face in the past when he silently sought solutions as he worked through problems in his mind. The silence lasted too long for comfort; you could sense him figuring out what to do with you. His brows flashed with the strike of an idea.

“Pretend I'm him,” he said.

“What?”

Your mind jumps to a scenario where you pretend that Bi-Han is your lover and act out all the fantasies you'd saved for Kuai Liang's return. You felt perverse: it felt wrong to assume you'd been ordered to *treat* Bi-han in the same sexual manner that you would treat his brother. Surely he didn't intend for you to imagine Kuai Liang while he pleasured you in the deepest most erotic methods. Even allowing yourself the briefest glimpse at Bi-Han through a carnal lens proved devastating. One glimpse was all it took to deeply appreciate his shoulders, his eyes, his strength, his agility, his voice, his highly regimented grooming habits. Good god, you marveled at what he could do to you if he wanted. Was he really suggesting himself to be your lover? A stand in?

Imagine the Grandmaster reducing himself to the role of a stunt cock, just to keep you loyal to the Lin Kuei. Erotic thoughts banished the angry tears back into whatever well from which they sprung.

You were certain you couldn't have understood him correctly. Maybe he meant “imagine what I'd do if I were in his shoes planning my next move” or something.

You asked him to repeat himself, to clarify his orders.

“That was an offer, not an order,” he said, “I'm at your disposal. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to have rest assurance that your oaths still mean something. Use me however you wish. Make me sneak away with you if that's what excites you. I won't make you keep me a secret, yet if you desire it, I'll take our secrets with me to my grave. Whatever you want from him, I'll do my best to provide you in his stead.”

“You're offering… sex?” you asked incredulously.

“If that interests you, then yes. Whenever you want him, whenever your desire for him burns away your strength, leaves you weak, needy, or desperate enough to leave us, I want you to consider coming to me first. You won't have to explain yourself, and I do not expect you to banish all thoughts of him.”

Words failed you.

He allowed the uncomfortable silence to linger a bit too long.

He inched closer, hovered over you where you sat in a small but growing puddle of your own wetness. His face lingered near yours, his breath against your flushed cheek. You pressed your knees together. He murmured toward your ear, in a hauntingly familiar mimicry.

“Pretend I'm him,” he said in Kuai Liang's voice.

He continued to warp his timbre to mimic his brother's softer, hoarse intonation. And, for the first time in your life, you dared to interrupt him.

“Does that interest you? If not tonight, then later-” he asked.

“Tonight. Tonight, please,” you whispered.

“As you wish,” he said, perfectly mocking his brother's voice.

He leaned in until the bridge of his nose almost met yours. He stilled himself. His gaze invited you to make the first move: cognizant of the amount of power he held over you, he required a great deal of assurance that you truly wanted to do it. He let his warm thumbs caress your cheeks as he waited for you.

You shut your eyes, pressed your lips shut, pressed the shut lips against his, and kissed. He kissed back.

His lips were different from Kuai Liang's. They were firm, fitting. Kuai's lips were supple and plump enough to surround yours when kissed like this. Bi-Han’s lips could only give yours that surrounded feeling by parting just enough to gently suck your kisses, while gliding his tongue against them to tease them open.

You trembled, imagining what this sensation would feel like on your clit. You whimpered into the kiss despite yourself. You couldn't imagine this kiss as one of Kuai Liang's; Bi-Han’s kiss tasted like minty whitening gel and expensive honeyed tea. Kuai Liang’s kiss smells like smoke, tastes exactly like one might expect that a man who breathes fire and eats pussy should taste like. It was too different. It was Bi-Han. You were letting the grandmaster slip his honeyed tongue into your kisses, and into your dreams; You couldn't let yourself pretend otherwise.

You remembered the way you would melt just to feel Kuai Liang breathing. How you'd melt to feel his hands on your back. How you'd feel to be enveloped in his embrace. Bi-Han’s body was not so comfortable as Kuai Liang's. You remembered Kuai Liang's thick arms felt strong but pliant. You held Bi-Han’s biceps in your hands. They felt more like polished mahogany, stiff, smooth. The density of the man's arms was unlike what you were accustomed to; but the feeling raised your temperature.

You pushed back on his chest, pulled yourself away, and broke the kiss. He let you break the kiss, and waited for you to explain.

“Do you still feel okay?” he asked.

“Yes, it's just different.”

“Is it too different?”

“You taste different,” you said.

“What should I taste like,” he asked.

Fixated on the thought of his tongue on your clit, you bit your lip and parted your knees slightly from muscle memory. You were remembering times when Kuai Liang tasted like you in the moments after he tongued open your pussy.

When you didn't answer his question in words, he studied your body language, noting that your legs were no longer pressed together. Fear of impropriety forced you to hide this sexual part of yourself from your grandmaster for as long as you could remember.

“Ah,” he said as if reading your mind, “is that where you want me?”

“Yes, yes I want you there, but with kisses. Kisses please. I want your kisses, there. I need you to kiss me the way you did just now, only, down there,” you finally answered, keeping your eyes closed for the duration of your confession.

“You like my kisses that much?” He asked.

The sound of a smile painted his voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” you answered, “I like your kisses, I haven't had any kisses since you left for ying fortress…”

Sub-Zero realized your statement was true whether you were pretending to address him as Scorpion or not - either way, you haven't had any play since “he” left for ying fortress. He let his hands wander along your hips, stroked over your belly below the naval, just to watch you squirm.

“That sounds rough. No kisses, none at all?” he teased.

“Nooo, none! What about you?”

He shifted into his natural, gravely tiger-purr voice to whisper an answer.

“I can't speak for him on that topic, but for me it's been a long while. A lot longer than Ying Fortress.” he confessed.

Part two link here

To See My External Masterlist, Click Here

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

I just can't

So leftist want all Jews dead because they label them as white (most of them) and quite a few people on the right actually think Jews are controlling the world and want them dead.

I don't fucking understand this. I really don't I do not get the "Jews are actually destroying the world and are puppeteering in the shadows" mentality. the same as I don't understand the History illiterate people who think Jewish people are not native to the Israel.

No really prove it. You can't. OH WOW some people in positions of power around the world HAPPEN to be Jewish. Ok......so what? What's your point. That's the same mentality of, "Some black people commit crime, therefore they must ALL commit crime." And yes it is exactly the same. And yes I see you leftists. You think Jewish people are all just these white landlords who are trying to take away poor "poc" peoples homes. Sorry shithead. No. Palestinians are not defendant of Philistines. WE KNOW they aren't. AND even if they were. Jews lived in that region even before they did.

I do not get this Leftists and Far Right hate of Jews. I really don't. It makes zero sense. I'm in servers in discord that talk about things like DEI, and current day issues and when I get in VC, or listen to certain people talk or hint, they are all trying to say that "The issue is Jews". HOW EXACTLY!?!? WEF is not headed by some "Jewish Cabal". There's no "conspiracy" where all Jews just have this INSTALLED SOFTWARE where they are like, "Ya know, I want to destroy every country, I want to rule from the shadows, and I just love flooding nations with those not of their ethnic groups".

WTF. No really WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK! I can't get away from this shit. It's insane to me that leftists and far right all seem to believe the most insane conspiracies about Jewish people and I legit DO NOT understand. Dear Far Right, the idea that "A few Jewish people are in positions of power and doing stupid things. Therefore all Jews are the problem" is quite literally no different AT ALL than the Leftist view of, "White people have owned slaves period, they will never be able to repent. Henceforth are all evil." IT'S THE SAME FUCKING MINDSET!

And Leftists. LEARN ACTUAL FUCKING HISTORY. And maybe stop viewing all groups you hate as "White" or "White adjacent". Stop viewing Jewish people through the lense of "Landowners" and "Rich people". You are literally participating in the same Nazi rhetoric Hitler did. You are no better than the far right.

What the fuck is wrong with the world. What? The Bible called Jews god's chosen and now the whole world just wants to just delete them? I'm not even religious but fucking hell. What the FUCK.

Mutuals. Follows. Please if you know anything I ask you weigh in on this. If I tag you don't feel obligated to respond. I'd just like your opinion on this. Because I respect your opinions.

@nerdylilpeebee @gsirvitor @siryouarebeingmocked @generallemarc

[folded-boats]

oooh you said Superpower Story has 30k words? wanna tell us a bit about that?

Ok I know my tags were kind of a leading remark soooo yes absolutely :D

Honestly the premise is just your run-of-the-mill superhero high school setting. A bunch of teens taking classes, learning how to control their powers, working toward becoming government agents or something (that part isn't super fleshed out yet, don't worry about it).

Where the fun comes in is the powers. I tried to make them unique, which is a really tough task given how saturated this genre is so idk if I succeeded, but I'm happy with them. In this universe, powers tend to have sizeable drawbacks, or a catch or trick to them that makes them inconvenient or even debilitating. Sometimes the drawbacks outweigh the power itself, especially if the power isn't that strong, so those kids have to work with specialized teachers to train up the power and minimize the drawback as best they can.

Enter our main cast! From left to right: Slips, Snappy, Chroma, and Lucky.

At this school, everyone gets a nickname. This is so I can avoid giving the characters actual names. The drawings were done by @insomnimelodies who brought all these characters to life so beautifully when I didn't know the first thing about what any of them looked like cause I literally never describe appearances in the story and now I have sketches and I love these goobers so much and I love my talented friends!!!!!!! Ahem. Anyways.

Lucky can control their luck. They can't control the outcome – the luck does what's best for them, not what they want. They also aren't that much luckier than the average person. They can only control when they spend their luck and how much. This allows them to be very successful at small things such as exams or board/video games or instruments without much effort. However, used this way, the power is almost laughably weak compared to their peers. If they want to do anything noteworthy, they have to save up their luck for weeks at a time... which makes them really unlucky in the meantime.

Snappy can enter a person's head at the snap of a finger. Once he's there, he sees an immersive, deeply convoluted mindscape that he can manipulate as he pleases. Time also doesn't pass while he does this – viewed from the outside, the result is instant. In theory, he can completely change a person's knowledge, beliefs, personality, or sense of self in an instant. However, he can only do this once per person. As a result, there is zero room for error. The mindscape is also difficult to interpret, and it takes a lot of data (aka going into many different minds) to figure out patterns and learn to interpret things properly. Going into a person's head unprepared and changing things without knowing what he's doing can have disastrous consequences... Tragic backstory ensues. :(

Chroma sees emotions as colors. Theirs is one of the more potent empath powers around, sometimes to their own detriment. Strong emotions linger in the air around them for years, meaning that in emotionally fraught locations they can't see anything at all. They also don't automatically know what the colors mean, and have spent years deducing the meanings through experience. There's a lot of colors and emotions to keep track of, so some the more complex associations still elude them. Overall, their power is more manageable than many others, so they don't have to take the same remedial classes as the rest of the main cast.

Slips is a clairvoyant. She holds the only known future-seeing power with 100% accuracy, which wins her the (very much unwanted) attention of the school's Evaluators, a group of mysterious and sometimes ruthless overseers who evaluate each student's progress... and their future usefulness to the government. The catch: Slips's predictions are very difficult to control, and to achieve them, she has to surrender her own memories and knowledge. The relevance of the memory or knowledge to the desired prediction, the work put into gaining the knowledge/memory, and its personal importance all play a role in what the prediction is going to be. Getting it right is extremely difficult and might take many tries... if it works at all. As a result, Slips's memory is basically Swiss cheese, and she very much lives in the moment, as much by necessity as by choice.

Together, these four form a tight friend group, and they will eventually become a team of government agents (who are always in teams of 4, shout-out RWBY). Their skills make them poorly suited for combat but very well suited for avoiding combat – covert missions, spying, negotiating, etc. This is when they will start to discover (surprise surprise!) that the government is more nefarious than it seems.

Here's another rendition of them by @insomnimelodies! AAaaAAaAaaAaaaa

I've rambled enough but if anyone wants to hear more, there's a solid supporting cast with equally complicated powers, plus some fun intrigue both written and unwritten. :)

[phillippadgettwrites]

Sense, Chapter 2: Taste

Rated X / 689 words / Tagging @today-in-fic / Posted on AO3

Delightfully and unsurprisingly, Scully has the most delicious cunt he’s ever had the pleasure of eating. Had he known seven years ago that she had the sweetest, wettest—gah, he can’t even think about it without getting hard. Had he known, there’s no way he could have resisted making a move. Absolutely zero chance.

The first time he got his mouth on her, his cock got so hard it nearly shot off his body like a goddamn rocket. She has big, pillowy pussy lips and a clit like a fat blueberry, and she gets so wet it runs down his chin. She tastes sweet, and salty, and musky, sometimes like a fresh loaf of bread and sometimes like a copper penny. He delights in sampling her at different times of the month and at different points in the day: after the gym, first thing in the morning, once right after he fucked her. He gently begged for the opportunity to be the first to eat her out on her period, and her hasty acquiescence told him she wasn’t all that against it in the first place. Just knowing that she’d let him, that she trusted him that much, made it so fucking erotic she came almost instantly, and he was inside her before she stopped throbbing.

Much to his disappointment, she made a rule that they can’t spend more than three nights together before they have to spend at least one apart, and she’s stuck to it steadfastly. On the nights he’s alone in his bed, he jerks off and thinks about her tasty little cunt. He imagines eating her asshole until she screams into the pillow, then having her sit on his face until he can’t breathe. By the time he’s back in her bed, he’ll be desperate as a starving man, pulling her panties to the side and wrapping his lips around her fat clit because he can’t wait the ten extra seconds it would take to pull them down before he tastes her.

He salivates thinking about her. About the silky slip of her when she’s ovulating, those blessed days where she’s so horny she lets him take her home on their lunch break and eat her over the arm of the couch before they sit down at the table and share leftover chicken scampi. She’s generous with her juicy cunt; she says yes more often than no , and lavishes him with praise while he laps at her peach of a slit, telling him what a good job he’s doing. Once, he managed to make her squirt right into his mouth, and it ran down his throat like hot rainwater, tasting like the earth, and the heavens, and everything in between. He’s obsessed. Obsessed and shameless, no less.

Any question regarding what he’d like to have for a meal will be met with, at the very least, a suggestive pop of his eyebrows, particularly if they’re on duty and he’s on a short leash. But if it’s after hours or they’re alone in one or the other’s apartment, he’ll tell her that nothing sounds more appealing than her tart little snatch, then rub her over her pants. Nine times out of ten she goes along with it, and at this point he has to assume that she knows exactly what she’s doing.

It’s a good thing he didn’t know. If he had, he’d have laid her out on that motel bed in Bellefleur and stuffed his tongue inside her. He’d have made her come right as the power came back on, just in time to watch her face, and taste her end-of-day cunt, and see her fall apart in front of him all at once. He’d have ruined it all before it ever got started, and it would have felt worth it.

Mulder grunts and watches cum spurt out over his hand and pubic hair, running down his knuckles as he continues to stroke. He licks his lips and he swears he can taste her, salty and slick, across his tongue. Just one night. It’s just one night until he can get his mouth on her again.

[remnantofstars]

Would you consider Tom to be quite possessive/ the jealous type? I know people think these are synonymous with romantic relationships—but they aren’t necessarily. I feel like Tom would just unlike Severus not for the whole boss-underling thing but just because he exists.

Tom seems like the type to have just a “special person” and the rest are obstacles.

OH MAN! So this might become a little of a long one to answer, because I gotta break down my thoughts on Tom without spoiling anything TvT He's not inherently possessive/jealous as a type. Not in the romantic sense or in relationships. I think with the way he grew, yes there's a lot of jealousy and trouble with possesings that are his and his boundaries that weren't listened to (I have zero confidence in that oprhanage as you can tell. Children in that time period were often treated as objects, and that has ramifications on their healthy deveolpment with their stuff, what they concider theirs, how they think/function, and the relationship with people around them. Unfortunatly Dumble didn't help a lot with that.). But that's not all he is, or how he approaches relationships. So yeah no, I don't beleive possesivesness/jaelousy is a romantic requirement, and can be rather,,, strange sometimes to make a requirment of a relationship. He's also, aroace in my fic. Same as Dakota. Their basis of a relationship is built on platonicness. Being afraid to lose someone isn't the same as possivieness. Jealousy can exist, but I like to think he's just like an cat. You know? Cat's who pretend they don't want all the attention but will be in your way CONVENIENTLY all the time for pets. The whole underling thing would definetly be more of a problem to Severus than Tom (I also don't imagine Severus particularly likes Tom as a person, vs Tom who can see his usefulness but doesn't tend to think much of him and his personness, I hope that makes sense?), it's a point on how their relationship is a lot to tackle, and neither has any interest for it. If that makes sense? "Special person"! Tom does seem the type! Between the two, Dakota has a better handle on liking people, and remembering them as full autonomisous beings (better doesn't mean perfect, he is in a fictional world, he's struggling with that and his own issues!). Tom doesn't care much, I've called him a practical person before and that fits on this area too. When he is forced to care though, like with Dakota because he has got to keep him alive, it's a special circumstances thing. So special person is rather apt, in ordinary circumstances it wouldn't be quite as easy to care. Dakota and him are object in motion (haha) meeting immovable force. I'm not sure If I'm explaning anything quite right. I just woke up after a full day of work and a lot of commuting haha. While Tom and Dakota's relationship is important, I hope people don't think it's the only thing that's important. They are still aroace, I'm not going to write them having a full romance or doing things couples do. So I hope people aren't expecting that, I don't want to dissapoint people over something I thought I was being clear on. There's a reason they're not tagged with a / relationship tag, mostly because I'm still figuring out how to write those two. But also because yeah, aroace. (this isn't aimed at you secifically, I love doing a bit of a deep dive on these two! I've just been thinking about it a lot yesterday and thought it was a ideal time to say that under here haha) Thank you for asking! I hope you're enjoying the fic, and that I sound a bit coherent :D (Oh god I yapped too much, I'm so sorry)

[morningstarfirstsin]

Shooting Stars (1/20)

(A/N: Many of my older works don't have proofreading and, well, I'm not a native speaker either. English is not my first language. Therefore, I ask for patience, but I believe you will find some grammatical errors here (and many more in older works).

That said, this text is interactive, giving the reader space to fit into the character, but she has a name and appearance, she is a transmigrant (yes, I know, but its my favorite trope and I almost never find any fics that fall under those terms :<)

There will be spoilers. There will be lore breaking. MC is female as the “real MC”.

I hope you like the fic. I hope it's as fun for everyone as it has been for me, marinating in this idea and finally having the willpower to write again. The tailcoat I was inspired by is this one here, from Alice in Wonderland )

Summary: You lived for them. You died for them. That was the only thing that made sense, the prophecy given to you said. You were sure of it. Live for them, die for them, make them happy. Let them live their lives with the ones they love the most and only so you'll be free to finally leave this looping of suffering.

You gave your heart, your soul, your life and your years. You gave your freedom so they could be free to love. Be free to live. And yet... Why is the story repeating itself?

Why are they coming back to you?!?

Pairing: Sylus | Zayne | Xavier | Rafayel | Caleb x female!reader

Important tags for this whole series: Angst, Fluff, Smut, reader is in denial, Past Lives, Mild Gore, Blood, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, All love interests fall in love with reader, reader is not MC

Chapters: (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) Read it on AO3

A tired sigh left your lips. As you hugged one of your swords and played with the small rabbit-shaped charm, time seemed to pass slowly, almost imperceptibly. The air felt still and heavy around the palace and as much as you truly wanted to make this story happen as fast as possible, it was basically impossible to rush things any further than they had already been rushed. 

The number of times you sat across from your MC and talked to her, tried to understand why she didn't accept either of Xavier's two marriage proposals, why she seemed to be so resistant to the prince when things should be so much simpler . 

Everything seemed so complex when, in fact, everything was supposed to be so easy and even so, the reason seemed to be invisible to the eyes of your creation. With another tired sigh, your eyes turned toward the tower clock. It was already more than 6 o'clock in the afternoon and the prince would soon leave the meeting he had been summoned to, so it was necessary to be prepared to assume the role of a watchdog once again.

Adjusting the black mask that covered from your nose to your chin, making half of your face unknown to absolutely anyone, you put away your sword  once again and stretched for a moment. Your muscles tensed and then relaxed. 

“Still guarding His Highness?” - A familiar male voice caught your attention. With a gentle smile on his lips, the boy who spoke directly to you was Jeremiah, one of Xavier's other royal guards and one of his best friends. He was adorable, even more so up close like that.

"Yes." - Despite your short answer and the robotic voice expelled by the mask, you held a look full of affection and sympathy for the boy. The process of being as cold and distant as possible was complex, especially in a world where you didn't belong and were desperately alone, but there was a reason for this behavior. 

Soon both Xavier and Jeremiah were preparing to take the long-awaited journey to the past and you would need to play an essential role when that happened. 

“Always monosyllabic. It's a shame you don't engage more than half a dozen words on a lovely day, Zero. I would really like to know a little more about you…” - And dramatically, Jeremiah threw his shoulders up, sighing deeply. - “Well, I'll leave before his highness thinks I'm interfering with your work.” 

And with a wave, the brunette walked in the opposite direction from which he had come, his steps as light as that of an experienced knight should be. 

That brought a thought to your mind. After so many years of training and scars that marred your whole body, you weren't sure how many times you had lived or how old you were in general. You stopped counting after the first two hundred, since in this life alone, you were almost sure you already had surpassed three hundred years old. The only thing you truly knew was why you were here and what your mission was. 

Ironically -or perhaps not-, after reading so many books and comics on this topic, something similar had happened. The weird part was that you didn't remember dying in your last life. Furthermore, some things still seemed to have survived in your memory. For example, here in the world of Love and Deepspace, they didn't speak your native language, no. They spoke what you called “common”, a language you learned as soon as you started speaking.

Another important point was: Your memory of this world began when you cried the first time, on your mother's lap. It had been many, many years. You have literally lived entire lives in completely different timelines. Lives where you were close to Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus and now, Xavier. It was strange to say that you didn't understand or know for sure which of these lives had been the first or whether what was happening at the moment was real or just a memory. But before your brain could get lost in any more wondering about questions you couldn't answer yourself, a noise caught your attention. 

With a click, the door opened, and from inside, some members of the imperial family began to come out. Xavier had been one of the last and, as usual, you started walking behind him without saying a single word. His gaze focused in search of any danger, despite his relaxed posture. 

“Zero…” - The prince called your name for what seemed like the first time in his entire existence. Now you were already away from any area where there were other passersby in the palace, even if you were still moving on your way to Xavier's room.

With a bit of shock, since the prince was usually indifferent and cold towards everyone he didn't consider close, you just nodded, still following behind the blonde, waiting for what he had to say. It seemed ridiculous that a wave was enough, especially when you weren't leading the way, but you knew the prince too well to know that he had seen your nod and, a few seconds later, as you arrived in front of his bedroom door, he invited you inside. 

Shaking your head in a negative manner, you remained outside, expression as neutral as possible, indicating that you would not enter. 

“I need to talk to you about… Well, you know about who. And I would like to do it in a way that I am comfortable with.” - his voice sounded tired, bordering on exhaustion and that was the only thing that convinced you to take a very hesitant step into the prince's room. 

"Thanks." - He said, closing the door and then going to sit on the sofa in the small leisure area that the immense royal bedroom offered. - “I don't know if I could say that you must be wondering a lot of things since… I don't think I even remember what your voice sounds like anymore. But... I'd like to ask you a favor. Certain things are going to happen and… I would like you to protect her. Never leave her side.”

Your gaze fell on the blonde's hands, fingers intertwined, muscles contracting with some anxiety. He was certainly talking about his farewell, his future journey and how he was putting his plans into action for your MC to become queen of Philos. This was one of the moments you were eagerly awaiting. You would finally accomplish something that had never been done before, that timeline would be broken and you would be responsible for it in no time. 

With a rare smile on your lips -even though they were hidden by the mask-, you knelt down in front of Xavier, one hand resting on your knee and the other on the floor. Lowering your head, you dared to speak a few words this time.

“I swear on my life that I will keep her safe as long as I live.” - The robotic voice sounded with a little emotion. Maybe it was the tiredness that had finally spread like cancer through your body and soul. Living so many lives and dying all of them, remembering the loved ones you had all this time, family and friends, as well as the people you loved so much in the 'real world'. All that weight finally felt like it had been dumped on your shoulders once and for all. 

“I…” - Xavier seemed shocked. His eyes widened slightly, but then he smiled gently. It was the first time he had smiled at you and he was as beautiful as every time he had smiled through a screen. - "Thanks." - and with a hand on your shoulder he seemed to have conveyed everything he always wanted to say during the entire time he was in the company of his beloved MC. You knew how important she was to him, but little did the prince himself know of your plans.

With a nod, again, you stood up and left the room, standing guard outside. Even during the early hours of the dawn, there was no tiredness in your system. It felt like your heart was pumping blood faster than ever, an expected state of adrenaline when you only had one chance to make things work. 

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Our old tale is found in the annals of Philo’s history. 

Wandering bards sing of it throughout the land. 

For hundreds of years, Philo’s throne sat empty. Now the crownless queen of legends foretold regains her scepter. 

Philos is to be ushered in a new spring. in darkness does one claim a glimmer. The new queen shall bring the dying Philos its real end. 

As she sat on her cold throne, at the bottom of the steps, her Grandis Knight, Xavier stared at her. A queen’s coronation ceremony should be a day of bliss, yet, he chose that day to bid her farewell. 

“Are you not afraid the Backtrackers suspect you betrayed them for a private audience?”  - Your mc asked, her voice shaky. 

“They are aware.” - Xavier sighed and averted his eyes for a second. - “As a knight, it’s my duty to attend to Your Majesty.”  

A moment of silence made the throne room colder than before, quieter than the normal. Your eyes never wandered away, staring directly at Xavier while he spoke to your mc. She was beautiful, so much that it pained you to see this scene repeating again and yet, you’ve spoken no words, in a guarding stance beside your new queen as you promised.

“... Are you truly leaving?” - Her eyes were glassy, full of non-shared tears. 

“The spaceship is ready.” 

“Your trip is one of danger and uncertainty!”

Shaking his head, Xavier didn’t reply right away. If only so that he could extend his own stay, even if just a little, if only to hear her breathe, so that he could just hear her heart beat for the last time.

“Our safety is assured so long as Your Majesty doesn’t call our steel into battle.” 

Your Majesty. He addressed her with a cool indifference. He hadn’t addressed her with her own name for years and now, seeing him stand, she realized it’s been some time since she got  a good look at her Grandis Knight. 

“You’ve already made up your mind. In that case…” - Your MC spoke, rising from her throne and walking down the steps, standing before Xavier. - “I’ll tell the citizens. The Grandis Knight perished in battle. I shall give him the highest honor.” 

He smiled at her. His voice was so ever soft and full of affection, one she couldn’t have noticed for how her heart was broken. 

“Your Majesty has my gratitude.” 

The wind sweeps into the room, the tassel with a star-shaped charm swaying on his sword. Nightfall obscures the tassel and without saying another word, Xavier takes his leave, his steps echoing through the room. 

When you heard the door close completely, you examined every part of that large hall with your eyes. Your MC knelt on the floor and started crying profusely. Sobs of a lost love for a journey that would have no return.

You took a few steps forward, walking down the steps of the throne and standing next to the queen. Placing one hand in front of your face and the other behind, touching a device on the back of your neck, you removed the mask. Something you had never done in front of any of the people who lived in that palace. In fact, the last people who had truly seen your face had long since perished. 

"Your Majesty." - Your voice was low, almost like a whisper in the silent night. A melodic voice that went well with the long pastel pink hair you grew. Your eyes were almost hidden beneath a fringe that urgently asked for a cut, but even so, nothing was a mystery anymore, not for your queen and you had only done that because you knew she would never remember your face. 

“Z-Zero?” - Your MC's voice was still weak and longing, choked. Her eyes widened for a moment as she admired your face, her fingers reaching out and gently brushing against your skin, feeling the softness and plump, pink lips. 

A toothy smile showed your dear mc that she could continue her curious caress while you yourself moved your hand to caress your creation's cheek. It was a strange feeling, it wasn't the feeling of motherhood you get with a child, it was more like seeing something you were a part of, now forging its own path.

“I'm sorry about that. I've seen and rewatched this story so many times and... My return home depends on your happiness... So I'm going to break some rules. I hope you forgive me.” - With a soft kiss on your queen's forehead, you murmured a few words and the world around you seemed to enter a great state of… glitching. 

Your MC didn't even have time to say anything, she was paralyzed like everything else at that moment. The entire world had bent to your will. With a snap of your fingers, you were facing the spaceship that Xavier and Jeremiah would board in a few minutes for the mission back to the past. 

You opened the door and carried your queen inside, laying her gently on one of the beds in the dorm. With another snap of your fingers, her clothes were already organized in the correct compartments and the amount of supplies needed for the trip had been re-established. 

“I hope you live a peaceful and happy life. Give Jeremiah some love for me, I’m sure he’ll be a great gardener.” - You said with a smile on your face and walked out of the machine, letting the door close again. 

Time came to an end and you disappeared into the darkness, just waiting for things to happen according to your will. Xavier and Jeremiah boarded the ship, adjusted the coordinates and left Philos. Using a device that would be similar to a GPS, you followed their departure until their return could no longer be something tangible and only then, with a sigh, did you unpause the rest of the world around you. 

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Walking to the Starfall Forest, you entered the forest safely. That would be the last time you would need to do something. Or maybe it was the first. Maybe it was just a memory. It didn't matter the order of any of the timelines, just that you were certain that by completing this final task, you would finally have your freedom returned.

After all, the prophecy, before the countless times you were born -or had been born- was always the same: “Seek for the true happy ending. Allow the chance to love for those who never manage to consummate it.” and there was nothing that made more sense than simply changing the story of each of the characters you loved so much. Yes, these boys never seemed to have a happy ending, with their tragic pasts and broken hearts.

Wide steps made your path shorter and shorter, white pants that outlined your curves and highlighted your rear, black knee-high boots and a blue tailcoat with details in gold threads, made the air of royalty more intense than ever. It was especially sad to know that, despite all the flower details in your hair, your jewelry - however discreet, they were still there and were exuberant to the attentive eyes -, no one would see you that night. Literally dressed to kill. The mask was no longer part of your current uniform. 

Your hair, long enough to reach your waist, was gently swayed by Philos' gentle breeze, as if it were a relief that you had finally arrived on that planet to put a real end to such a monstrous situation. 

Pulling your two swords from their respective sheaths, your next movement was too quick for any creature or wanderer to follow. You were destroying the core of that damned land. Never again would those humans make sacrifices to keep their selfish lives extended.

Your consciousness slowly faded away as your sword destroyed every barrier on the planet’s protocore, trees and creatures being destroyed in a white flash, a merciful way to go, you thought. At least it would be painless, as all the pain on that planet now passed through your veins to the point where you expected to wake up back in your own bed. Back to your world. 

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

When you opened your eyes again, you were in an alley. Your mask was on the floor as blood fell from your nose and mouth. Several men were on the ground, huddled together and stacked on top of each other.

Blurred vision and a feeling of nausea, you realized you were in a fight. What had happened this time? The world seemed much less technological than on Philos, but your mask... Hearing some footsteps nearby, you tried to get up, supporting yourself with one of your swords as you pulled your mask and fitted it back onto your face. 

Your body was heavy and your arms were making a Herculean effort to maintain support for your swords. You knew you needed to walk faster and you forced your own body to follow as much as possible.

Not that you knew how to go. Or where to go to. But your feet were dragged towards what felt like a familiar place. Entering the automated building, the robot recognized your face, even if it was bruised and swollen behind the mask, granting you access to the elevator. 

You don't remember when your eyes closed, but you felt a warmth, as if something was holding you gently and not letting you fall to the ground. Your consciousness faded. 

At some point, in the midst of a delirious fever, your eyes opened and closed, but everything was spinning and your stomach no longer seemed to want to contain anything inside it. Turning your face to the side, you vomited everything you had previously ingested along with blood. 

You heard some noises of footsteps, more than one person was moving in that environment, someone seemed to curse almost silently while another person gently held your torso and hair. 

“She needs to go to the hospital right now. I can’t treat her here.” - A cold and harsh voice sounded above you. It matched the cold touch of the hands that held you.

“Her arms… Her arms are turning… black. Would this… be necrosis?” - Another voice, less rigid, spoke. Familiar like the first. 

"No. That’s her evol.” - Another male voice. How many men were there in this place? 3? 4? Your head was too dizzy to answer that question. - “Luke and Kieran are heading here, let's take her to the hospital, help me find other clothes to dress her.” 

“I don't think there's time to put other clothes on her right now. As much as I hate the idea of ​​leaving her in this state, let's prioritize getting her back to my car. Let me try to stabilize evol, after all, this heart is hers.”  - Maybe you have been answered. 4 men? But there were two more that were mentioned… were they already here?

When you felt a warm touch on your skin, your eyes opened wide, but you couldn't see anything. A scream left your lips as you writhed in pain and tried your best to get away from whatever they were doing to you. 

“Shit, hold her straight, just a little longer, I’m making her evol regress!!!” - The person who had touched you shouted, a few more pairs of hands came to hold you. Whether it was seconds, minutes, hours or an eternity, you didn't know, but before falling into oblivion once again, all you heard was the voice from the someone who had touched you previously and cried out to be in possession of your heart. - “Shhhh… It’s okay, cutie. You'll be fine…”

© morningstarfirstsin original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

my whole life loving you | rhett abbott x oc

Summary: "we always used to have sleepovers as children, why would it be weird now?" aka what if they were childhood best friends to lovers? huh? what then? (wc: 3393)

Requested: YES by @saltynametag

Warnings: childhood best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, a sex joke involving doggy bedsheets, and SUPER suggestive at the end there + a cliffhanger on where that situation goes

✎……uh...if ya want me to finish out what happens at the end there just lmk...

✎……MASTERLIST

It is a truth universally acknowledged that children of ranchers stuck together. Even if one of those ranchers specialized in cattle and the other in horses. 

Tessa Abernathy and Rhett Abbott were no exception to this truth. They met when they were just four years old, their fathers having brought them along to the local tractor supply to pick up a few things for their respective ranches. Both Royal Abbott and Nathan Abernathy set their kids down for only a second to look at something. But then the little tots were gone. Nowhere to be seen in the large store. They were only missing for about five minutes — neither of their fathers were even all that worried. Royal and Nathan wandered up on the two of them standing side by side on an overturned bird feeder box, looking at the baby ducks under the heated lamp.

The two of them were inseparable after that. Pre-school and kindergarten, elementary to middle school — their friendship even lasted throughout high school, when some childhood friendships were most tested. Kept together through their love of the rodeo and each other. Weekends spent at one or the other’s houses, when they weren’t traveling with the rodeo team. Pictures up in their bedrooms of shared bathtubs when they were still little, pillow forts with Nintendo 64 controllers in hand, vacations one or the other tagged along on, and dances where neither of them could think of someone else to go with. Neither of them could imagine a world where the other wasn’t in their life. It seemed impossible, when they had spent nearly their entire lives knowing and caring for and teasing one another.

Everyone expected, their parents included, that they would get together eventually. That they would finally realize that they loved each other as more than friends, bite the bullet, and start dating. But it never happened. High school came and went and the subject was never broached or even brought up once — even amongst their other friends.

Even though they both, at the time, secretly harbored crushes on the other. Little fleeting things they hoped would just go away with time. Because they were best friends. Had known each other forever. They couldn’t possibly be a couple. They would drive each other mad. Or at worst, it would ruin their friendship forever. And neither of them wanted to take that risk. So the crushes went away with time, and friends they remained.

The children of ranchers stuck together like glue.

Rhett had just finished helping Tessa move into her new place. A little cottage on her parents’ property that was entirely hers to do with whatever she wanted. Her own place after living at home for twenty-three years. She didn’t think it was that special. She was still living on her parents’ land and even renting from her parents, but Rhett thought she was lucky. She was out of the house, with her own space but still some responsibility. He would kill just to have one of the lofts in a barn to himself. But he was happy for her, even if he was a little jealous.

It was late by the time he pulled out of her driveway, the sun dipped low below the horizon and the moon hanging high in the sky. If they were younger, he would have just stayed the night. Not caring or even thinking about the implications of it. But now he was older. Now, he understood that Tessa was a woman, in every sense of the word. With soft curves and pink lips and zero inhibitions about being as close to him as possible. Now, he knew what all that could mean — what it meant to stay the night with a woman like that. 

And he knew Tessa didn’t want that from him. Never has, and never would.

Even if that twisted up something inside him he refused to understand.

But, he was about halfway home when his phone started to ring with a call from her. A picture of her sitting on top of her horse grinning ear to ear back at him greeting him as he picked his phone up from the cupholder.

“Hey, sunshine, I forget somethin’?” he questioned, small smile on his face as he answered her call.

“Um, no…” Tessa answered, voice sounding small and a little afraid.

Rhett sat up straighter as he drove, prepared to pull over or turn around at any second. “Wha’s wrong?”

“S’nothing,” she replied instantly, but when he didn’t say anything back she sighed and went on. “I jus’ feel weird bein’ here alone, s’all.”

His shoulders relaxed, his grip on the wheel loosened. He should have known she would react like this to her first night alone. Tessa might have been on the quieter side, but she was a creature of the den. She liked when there were people around, noise and comfort. Knowing that she wasn’t alone. But there she was, all alone in a little two bedroom cottage for the first time in her life.

“Y’r parents’re righ’down the road,” he said lightly, even as he pulled over into the shoulder and made sure no one was coming up or down the dark road.

He knew what she was going to ask before she even had to say it. 

“I know, but —” There was a pause as she sighed, Rhett could practically see her in his mind’s eye standing there with the phone pressed to her ear, bottom lip caught strong between her teeth. “Can you stay the night? Jus’this first night. Please?”

“M’already turned around. Be there in ten,” he said, pulling back out onto the road. “I better get extra pay f’r this.”

Her laugh, soft and gentle through the phone, was like music to him. “How ‘bout I have hot chocolate ready when ya get here?”

“Yeah, that’ll work. N’breakfast in the mornin’?”

“Yes, n’breakfast in the mornin’, ya bottomless pit,” she laughed again.

“Wait, you even have eggs?”

“Yeah.” He heard the fridge open in the background. “Ma insisted we stock up the fridge n’cabinets before we moved any’a my stuff in.”

They stayed on the phone and talked until Rhett pulled back into her driveway. He didn’t need to ask to know that she wanted him to stay on the line until he got there. He just knew.

He didn’t even knock before he came inside. Just pushed open the door and took off his shoes, greeted by the smells of hot chocolate and Tessa humming under her breath as she stirred the pot it was in. Always from scratch, never from a packet with her. She smiled over her shoulder at him as he approached, pushing his hair back from his face with a returning grin.

It felt…Domestic in some way. Her standing in the kitchen, him coming home to her, the house all to themselves. Rhett wasn’t the type to imagine things often, save for a ride he was minutes from undertaking. But he could just picture coming up behind her and wrapping her up in his arms. Pressing kisses into her neck just to make her laugh. Making her sway to the song that wasn’t playing but they both heard. Coming home to her every day for the rest of his life.  It felt so real, so effortless for him to do. For them to do. As he approached, he nearly did just what he imagined. His arms instinctively reached for her. It swelled up something inside him that, again, he refused to understand. He refused to acknowledge as he got down the mugs he put away only hours before instead of living out his fantasy.

“Thank you, f’r comin’,” Tessa said quietly as she ladeled out the steaming beverage into each of their mugs.

Rhett shrugged with a lopsided smile. “Y’called.”

They drank their hot chocolate in relative silence. She didn’t have all her furniture yet, so they had to squeeze together on an oversized armchair and watch some crime show on her laptop. She leaned her head on his chest, their legs tangled together as they somehow managed to sit comfortably, and again there was that feeling. That fantasy bubbling up in Rhett’s mind. His heart. His gut. How he could so easily put his arm around her and press his lips to her head. How some part of him wanted to end every day just like this. With her by his side. How he could just so, so easily pull her into his lap and kiss her like he’s always wanted. 

Like he’s always wanted? Rhett fidgeted with his empty mug, completely lost on the plot of the show in front of him. Has he always wanted to kiss her? Love her as more than a friend?

Has he been in love with her his entire life and has only just now realized it?

A kind of heat he wasn’t familiar with flooded his chest as the idea dawned on him. As the answer hit him with the force of a raging bull. Because of course he’s spent his entire life loving her. What else was he supposed to do? It’s almost what he was made for. To love Tessa Abernathy. The girl who ran away to look at ducklings with him. The girl who encouraged him to follow his dreams of becoming a bull rider in the first place. The girl who took care of him when he broke his ankle and his arm at the same time. The girl who forced him to go to prom. The girl who had spent her whole life loving him, too.

When the episode was finished and both of their mugs were emptied, Tessa disappeared to wash them out and put them in the sink. Then she came back to where he was still leaned back and spread legged in the chair with a sleepy smile.

“Y’ready f’r bed?” she asked.

He blinked up at her for a second. Could nearly picture her reaching out a hand, ready to drag him to their shared room where they could hide under the blankets from the world. But she wasn’t doing that. She was just looking at him with that tired smile and her hands messing with the hem of her shirt.

“Yeah,” he finally sighed as he pulled himself from the armchair. “Got any clothes f’r me?”

“You sleep in y’r boxers,” she pointed out, even as she led him back to her room, the bigger one on the right side of the hall.

She only had a full bed and a box spring for now. Little by little she would buy all the furniture she needed for the place, make it her own. Earlier in the day, Rhett thought her excitement about her own place and having her own furniture was endearing. Maybe even cute. But now he couldn’t stop thinking about going with her to test out bed frames and couches, moving it all in his truck and getting thanked for a job well done with a few kisses. Rhett shook his head as he followed her into the sparse room, pushing a hand through his hair again. 

He needed to get his head on straight. Tessa was just a friend. His best friend. Always had. Always would be. 

And there was that twisting in his chest again. Sharp and brutal as a knife.

How could he spend his whole life loving her and be just her friend?

“S’cold,” he explained simply, “N’it’ll be even colder out on that armchair.” 

She looked over at him with a furrowed brow as she opened one of her boxes of clothes. “M’not makin’ you sleep on that thing.”

“Where’m I sleepin’ then? The floor?”

“In here — on the bed — with me,” she said it simply, like it didn’t crush something in his chest.

“Tess…” He tried to think of what to say, how to excuse himself from having to share a bed with her when it was all he wanted to do.

“Oh, com’on. We used t’do it all the time as kids,” she argued, not finding what she was looking for in the first box and opening another.

“Yeah, cause we were kids.”

“S’not like this’s any different.”

Her words felt final, like there was nothing more he could say that would make her change her mind. And Rhett didn’t know if he wanted to make her change her mind. So instead, he stood there and stared at the bed they would soon be sharing. Just like when they were kids. No big deal.

After a minute of digging through a few boxes, Tessa presented him with an old pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt from the high school rodeo team. Also his. He narrowed his eyes at her as he took the proffered clothes she had clearly stolen at one point or another. But she just rolled her eyes — he couldn’t tell if the blush on her cheeks was him imagining things again or not.

Again, they got ready for bed in silence. Moving around each other like they had been doing it for years. Tessa offered the spare toothbrush she had for when she needed to change out her own. But all the while, something was building and twisting and knotting itself in Rhett’s gut. Anticipation? Worry? Guilt? Desire? He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

He just wanted to get through what was bound to be a sleepless night in the same bed as his best friend. Just so she didn’t feel alone. Just so she felt comfortable and safe. God, he would do anything to make her feel that way. Even if it left him uncomfortable and wanting.

Even if it made their little world crumble down around them.

“Y’re in Montana nex’week right? Big rodeo up there?” she questioned as she pulled back the covers, an extra on her side so she wouldn’t get cold.

“Yeah,” Rhett replied, pushing back his hair again. “Migh’even’ave a chance t’win big.”

“Maybe I could…Go with ya r’somethin’,” she spoke bashfully, sitting down by her pillow.

He gave her a look. “Thought y’had that big girl job now — they just gonna let ya have a week off?”

“S’all remote work. Imputin’ numbers and balancin’ books — borin’ but it pays. I could, I don’know, work at the hotel durin’ the day when I have to n’then be there at the rodeo at night.” 

“Could be fun,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “Like the good ole days.”

“C’n even sneak down t’the pool past closin’, if ya really wanna relive those days,” she chuckled lightly, picking at the sheets.

“If’s the good ole days we’re both drunk on straight vodka, which, honestly…” Rhett groaned as he laid down on his side of the bed. “The memory of makes me wanna hurl.” 

“Yeah, might be too old f’r that bit now.” 

They both laughed at that. It was true, they were getting older. Tessa got a degree and was working a full time job now. They still probably drank and partied too much, but they hardly ever stayed out past midnight anymore. Pretty soon they would be sipping wine or IPAs at dinner and not staying out past nine. The idea, despite Rhett not regretting a single thing about how he lived his life save for still living at home, sounded nice to him. If he was sipping wine and IPAs at dinner with her. If he was calling it a night and curling up on the couch to watch TV with her.

He wanted to do anything and everything with her.

But then he noticed her sheets.

“Hol’on, y’still have these sheets?” he asked incredulously as he pulled part of the fitted sheet up to a point, looking up at her with a smile and a raised brow.

“Back off, I still like these,” she replied, cheeks pink as she shoved at his shoulder.

They were green and fleece, which were both fine, especially now that it was getting colder out. Rhett’s only complaint, and really his only tease, was that they were covered in little cartoon dogs. And he remembered them being on her bed when she was twelve. That was over a decade ago and she still had them on her bed. Rhett grinned at her again as he worked on straightening out the wrinkle he had made.

“I don’know how I feel abou’sleepin’ on ten year ol’ doggy sheets,” he prodded.

“Jus’do it doggy style then,” she replied.

Then went red in the face, shifting her blue eyes over at him with her lips pressed into a thin line. They both knew what she said. They both knew what she meant and also what it sounded like. And usually, Rhett would have just gone on teasing her. Disipated the tension by pointing out what she just said and bringing it up for the next several days. But he just couldn’t. Not when it felt like there something lodged in his throat and he was just now noticing her warm thigh pressed up against his own.

Not when his imagination, suddenly so active, was showing him images of Tessa, his best friend he’s known since he was four, on her hands and knees for him. Her skin bare and sweating, a forming bite mark on her ass, her back arched, and whining high in her throat for him to come closer. Just to come closer. Looking back over her shoulder at him, so much like she did in the kitchen, only now her eyes were glazed over and she was begging him to be inside her. Filling her. Loving her. 

Rhett coughed awkwardly as he pulled the covers up over his lap. 

“Well, good night,” Tessa offered quickly, voice high-pitched and her cheeks still bright red as she turned off the cheap lamp on the floor beside the bed.

Then she flopped down onto the bed beside him, blankets yanked up to her shoulders as she curled up on her side. Facing away from him. And he tried his best to just lay back on his pillow and go to sleep. He really did. But how could he when his mind wouldn’t stop and the object of all his desires was laying right next to him? When he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her and kissing her and kissing her and kissing her? When he could feel the heat coming off of her skin and she was so close he could nearly touch her? There was no way he was making it through this sleepless night now. Not when all of it, his desire and his love and his years of longing, were bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin. Like a pot about to boil over on the stove.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was rolled over onto his side and tugging at her arm. She rolled over to face him without any fight, just a sigh like she knew this was coming. 

“Look, I get it what I said was dumb —”

“Sunshine, I — I can’t do this,” he muttered out as he looked at her face in the blue light of darkness.

She just looked at him confused. “Do what?”

He didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know how to articulate anything that was on his mind or on his heart. His mouth opened and shut a few times, trying to find the words that would speak it all into existence. But it just wouldn’t come. He couldn’t force it, even if he tried. It was all blank save for the pulsing need between his legs. His need for her. That really had been there all along. Even when he didn’t know it. 

So instead, he reached out for her and blindly took her hand beneath the covers. The furrow between her brows seemed to deepen as he dragged her hand across the small distance between them. But her mouth popped open and her chest heaved when he pressed the palm of her hand against the bulge in his sweats.

“R-Rhett…” she whispered, voice wavering and unreadable.

“F-Fuck, please, sunshine,” he breathed back, pushing further into her hand, further into her space. “I-I can’t anymore, please. Need you. Need you.”

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[noxinkwell]

Let's Talk About: The Bizarre Relationship Between Readers and Writers/Authors and Book Reviews/Fanfiction Comments

So this is gonna be a rambly one and I'll put a TL;DR somewhere, I promise, but I've been on BookTok and I wanna talk about the weird relationship between authors/writers (published and non published) and readers. Let's create a discourse on the types of conversation we see online about books/literature and fanfiction. TL;DR: A book is not bad because you hate it. A character is not bad or poorly written because you hate it. And it is so freaking important to remember to think about what authors are intending to do with their writing before you make very strong claims about it. Writing is such a personal experience because of most of us (if not all of us) write from a personal place in our hearts. Getting negative feedback is not at all helpful from randoms on the internet so maybe don't share it where the author can easily see it (i.e. don't tag them, don't comment on their fanfictions).

Disclaimer:

We are all entitled to share our opinions.

The BUT to that is: We are entitled to share out opinions kindly, respectfully, and we should keep in mind keep the thoughts of those who are on the receiving end of those opinions.

Initially, I thought it was a cognitive dissonance but I'm not sure the definition quite matches up. But maybe it does, so let's go with it.

If anyone is curious though:

Cognitive dissonance occurs when a person's behavior and beliefs do not complement each other or when they hold two contradictory beliefs. 

Typical examples:

"I want to get healthy, but I'm not going to make the changes to do it."

"I could have done more work, but I watched TV."

"I really want to help the planet, but I'm not going to recycle."

To me, it occurs with readers like this: "I want to help make the writer better by giving some random concrit/constructive criticism to an author when I have zero idea on what their intentions are as a writer."

Or: "I'm going to leave a negative review for a book and it will impact other people to read the book or make the author change how they write."

I am mostly talking about this as a fanfiction writer and someone who reads more published writing than I do fanfiction (these days).

My first thing is: Goodreads. Or just comments/reviews in general on fanfiction and other literature/books.

Some of the Goodreads reviews are. fucking. bizarre. And by bizarre I mean, they are so aggressive. And they bring zero productive conversation to books. They're just inflammatory. They're not at all constructive and quite frankly, they're not helpful for readers either.

And let me just say, that is entirely fine. Y'know, I think book reviews are for READERS and not the WRITER/AUTHOR, but still... I'm not even sure what I gain as a reader reading this type of review:

*yawn* I'm really sad I wasted my time on this romance that was completely overhyped, in my opinion.

or

at any given time, i feel like i'm reading romance as a cry for help.

And when I see these types of reviews, I feel like people fail to remember this very simple thing: Not. all. books. are. made. for. you.

Not. all. fanfiction. is. made. for. you.

You. are. not. always. the. target. audience.

So why do you read it? Stop reading it—especially if you can't share that opinion in a kind way. It's not productive.

When I get feedback on my writing (as a fanfiction writer) I will always, always, always ask for specific feedback. Is this line okay? Are my characters coming across in this way? Is the pacing okay? Does this make sense? How's my SPaG? How's my prose as a whole? Am I varying my sentence structure enough? Is my character development going okay?

And sometimes, with my most trusted writing friends I will say: "Hey, give me whatever feedback you think I should hear. Give me what you feel is going to help strengthen my writing."

Because YES—in my opinion, some parts of writing is purely objectively good or bad.

So when I see reviews or comments about someone saying a character is objectively annoying or that they don't relate to them I get sad. When I see that someone says a book is bad because of xyz reason... I sometimes want to shake them because it's just not how that works.

A book is not bad just because you hate it. A character is not bad because you inherently dislike her/him/them.

A fanfiction is not bad because a character did not do something you didn't like. A fanfiction is ALSO not bad if the character was out of character from canon and you didn't like the choices they made (this one irks me the most as a beta reader and a writer).

Why am I saying all this?

Because sometimes, readers forget what the author or the writer is intending to do with their writing. Sometimes the writer intentionally makes the characters annoying. Sometimes the writer intentionally adds angst and hurt and pain and jealousy. Sometimes the writer intentionally adds TOXIC traits to a character because they thought it would be fun or because it serves the moral they're attempting to tell. Sometimes they're toxic because it's DRIVES THE PLOT.

If a character cheats or kills someone it does not at all mean 1.) the author is condoning it and 2.) it doesn't mean the character is a bad character or a poorly written character either.

It just means it didn't resonate with you.

So I want to ask you all: Do you ask yourself why you dislike something before you decide 'yes, I hate it'? Do you think about what the writers intentions are when you're reading? And hey, perhaps, this type of reading may take the fun out of it for you. And I get that. What I don't get though, is disparaging authors and writers who are trying to make a living or trying to write for fun because you feel the need to give criticism on something that you actually may not know enough about.

To top it all off, we don’t know the authors. We don’t know the writers. So an author/writing receiving “advice” or “constructive criticism” from a random “schmuck” in their writing is just not gonna over well. Writers take a lot of time practicing their craft. While we’re all entitled to an opinion, it doesn’t always need to be shared in the face of the creator. I say this kindly, sometimes, you’re reading a fanfiction or a novel and you don’t like it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you know why and it doesn’t mean that your opinion on it aligns with the goal of the person telling the story.

Constructive criticism is a WHOLE other post probably, but I'll just say this here: If you don't know how to give it, then don't give it. If they didn't ask for it then DEFINITELY don't give it. If you REALLY have to give it, think about what you’re saying before you say it. And if someone is upset with you giving concrit and they never asked for it, maybe look within and ask why you felt this was helpful for the person on the receiving end of that concrit.

Also, if you're gonna post something negative: Do not tag the author. And if you're gonna comment negatively: Don't post it on the fanfiction either.

Why? Because reviews are. for. readers. You saying that you didn't like something on a fanfiction does not do anything for the writer except discourages them. Fanfiction writing =/= Published writing.

If the author wants it, they'll ask. (And I will post something this later). Did you make it this far? If you did, damn. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Authors and writers are humans. We write from a personal place in our hearts. Sometimes we write about the things in our lives that hurt us the most. Sometimes we write about other extremely personal experiences. So getting feedback on it is scary and forcing negative feedback for them to see is not kind. Writing takes hours, days, weeks, months, and even years to do. Reading takes...a fraction of that. So before you go and destroy someone’s work with your words online, maybe think about it first.

I, too, am an avid reader and sometimes we just want validation for our opinions (good or bad). But sometimes it's important to remember how we share them.