#I still think of them often and with great fondness

[ballsandbabes]

Connection Lost

authors note: I know this is a very sports themed blog, but i recently stumbled about some very interesting Infos for a love and deepspace character, that got me inspired// y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

pairing: Luke (LADS) x fem!reader

summary: Well, its pure chaos,but basically Luke has the hots for reader, who is an informant for Sylus. So what happends when filthy thoughts enter Lukes mind, while he still has the link to his brother??

genre: romance, fluff

word count: 9.5k

The N-109 Zone was colder than you imagined.

Not the kind of cold that gnawed at your skin—though the recycled air in the outpost left much to be desired—but the kind that wrapped around your thoughts. Isolated. Quiet. Too quiet.

You were new here. An informant Sylus had handpicked for reasons still unclear. He’d said he needed someone sharp, someone who didn’t ask too many questions—and you? You couldn’t help it. You were curious about the N109 Zone and it inhabitants, especially about the twins.

You failed your Hunter Examn three times and thus exhausted the maximum number of attempts. Now you were banned and would never be able to become a Hunter. But that didn't mean you weren't good. You did things your own way, at your own pace. You needed your rhythm and that fell apart when they tried to squeeze you into the Hunter Guild mould. You were almost broken. And now here you are. In a new city, without a proper job and with broken dreams. In short, the last year just sucked. sometimes you wished you hadn't moved to Linkon to fulfil your dream of becoming a Hunter. You've had all sorts of jobs over the past few months, none of them well paid.

But when a black letter fluttered through your letterbox, your hitherto dreary life took off again. The mysterious organisation Onychinus had asked for you. In a fit of ‘I have nothing left to lose anyway’, you ventured into the forbidden zone. You had been subjected to a series of tests before you finally met him: Sylus. The head of the organisation. Gangster. Ready for violence. Handsome.

Sylus was loud, unpredictable, often seen with a too-wide grin and a datapad that blinked with encrypted secrets. And then there were the twins: Luke and Kieran. At first you found them totally annoying whenever you handed in your reports at HQ. Stupid questions, sarcastic remarks and just all-round idiocy, you thought. Most of the time, you were just annoyed when they were around.

Everything turned out differently than you thought. One evening, you made your way back to your flat in Linkon, with Sylus' new assignment in your pocket. Over the next few days, you were to shadow a person whose name had only been shortened to MC, a young woman. A Hunter. You had felt like you were being followed the whole time, but you didn't think anything of it, as the crowds in Linkon always increased in the evening. But by the time you turned into your street, it should have been too late. With a loud clang, something metallic hit you on the back of the head.

They had stolen all the documents from you that said anything about MC. The twins had searched for you after your long absence and brought you to the headquater's crane room. You had grown fond of sylus, why didn't you know? But you seemed to remind him of someone he knew. That was also the reason why he had ordered you to live at the base from now on. Before you could say anything about it, your city flat had been cancelled. And that's how you ended up here.

Sylus and the twins had become something like your family. You had lost your father in the war and you no longer had the wish to see your stepmother. You were alone. And to be honest it felt great, to be able to come home to someone, even if it was just the twins. The two of them fascinated you. They seemed to share a brain. Finished each other's sentences and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. it felt like they shared their senses and thoughts, in a sense that they felt closer to being one single entity split in half, than two regular brothers. As you figured out relatively quickly both remained with their own personal tastes and personalities, even though they were pretty similar. You always asked yourself, if that meant that they also had shared feelings.

That couldn't be true for Kieran, he was leaning over the armchair next to you with his head to the floor, reading a book. he was the younger of the two and also the slightly smaller one. He was the calm, reliable, and stubborn one of the two. Kieran didn't seem like the type to share his feelings with his brother.

Luke, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He was temperamental, unpredictable and vigilant. He also had a penchant for cold things, especially ice cream, as you noted. So being around him, felt always colder than the zone you were stationed in—until he wasn’t.

The first time he looked at you, really looked, it was like you’d stepped into someone else’s memory.

___ _ _ _

“Stop staring,” Kieran muttered to his brother one night after you’d left the surveillance room. You weren’t supposed to hear it. But the door hadn’t quite shut.

“I wasn’t,” Luke replied, voice sharper than usual.

“You feel her too. Don’t deny it. You know I can feel your nerves lighting up like a relay. She’s pretty. I get it,” Kieran said annoyed. For his nineteen years, he was sometimes quite altruistic and mature.

A pause.

“I don’t want you in this, Kieran,” Luke finally said, “Not this.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any gravity shift. What was that about? MC, the woman you were supposed to be shadowing? Granted, she really was a beauty. Did Luke fall in love with the young woman while sifting through all the footage? You had to suppress a little laugh. Sure, he was spontaneous and impulsive, but that was a new level of stupidity, even for him.

But at the same moment, that the smile appeared on your face, something else had spread. A kind of sadness. You loved spending time with the two of them, but Luke was your favourite. He always had suggestions for things to do, he took you out of your everyday life, he gave you the feeling of endless freedom. His sarcastic remarks, the silly remarks, they made you smile. You were totally blown away when he knocked on your door and wanted to take you for a night-time ride on his motorbike, in the zone.

But his affections already seemed to be focussed on someone else.

___ _ _ _

Since overhearing the twins' conversation, you had become curious. Could the two of them really read each other's thoughts? The more you researched it, the more you learned. So it was no wonder, that you learned quickly, that the twins shared more than DNA. They were psychic mirrors—linked by something deeper than blood. Thoughts, pain, senses… pleasure. It was said that if one twin dreamed, the other would wake remembering it. It was totally strange. How was that possible???

You started catching Luke looking at you more often. But he never said anything beyond protocol. Never broke rank. Never touched. You were pretty sure that this was a new task for sylus to keep an eye on you. So you thought nothing of it.

___ _ _ _

Until the night, when the rain came—acidic and red, scattering your outpost’s comms and knocking out part of the signal array. The rain in the N109 zone was almost toxic due to the air pollution. If it fell very heavily in the same place, it corroded the surface. Sylus didn't like the fact that you wanted to go out to do your chores. He thought it was stupid and careless, but now was time to shadow your target inconspicuously. So you went nevertheless. And now??

Now you were stranded inside the auxiliary hub, alone, until the door opened with a mechanical hiss and Luke stepped through, soaked and grim-faced.

“I came to check on you,” he said. His voice had an edge—like he was trying not to feel something too deeply.

You smiled, teasing despite the tension,“Sylus send you?”

“No,” he replied.

"Then Kieran send you to check," you figured. The silence stretched. Then, softly, almost like an admission, “Sylus is on duty...Some meeting. And Kieran...he doesn’t know I’m here.”

That caught you, “But… I thought you two—”

“Always,” Luke said, “We’re always connected. Every thought. Every flicker of sensation. If I burn my hand, he flinches. If I close my eyes and dream, he sees what I see.”

You swallowed,“So… right now, he—?”

Luke stepped closer, “Not if I block him. Which I can’t do for long, only a few minutes. But I had to try. He would be so mad if he knew I am here.”

He looked at you then, like you were the answer to a question he hadn’t dared to ask until now.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he murmured, “to never have a moment that’s only yours?”

You shook your head. It must be awful, to share everything. When not even your thoughts were your own.

“I want this. I want the moments we share. But I don’t want him to feel it too,” Luke admitted. There was a fragility in his voice that cracked the shield you’d seen him wear like armor. For once, Luke didn’t seem like the older, colder twin. He seemed… human. Longing. Afraid.

“What happens if you cut the link?” you asked.

He hesitated. “To be honest, there is no way to to so. But if I had to guess, I would say Pain. For both of us. It’d probably be like slicing a wire that runs through your bones.”

You reached up, fingers brushing his wrist. His breath caught—so did yours,“ I cant imagine what it must be like to not be your own person, but rather two. Then how about we make this moment yours.”

You two had sat down. You asked him if there was anything he wanted to say that was none of Kieran's business. That he always wanted to feel that was none of Kieran's business. And so a short, honest conversation began. Luke confessed that he had once been in love, but that it had been a bad thing that Kieran had interfered. Kieran had been afraid of losing his brother, of having to share and had always beaten the girl up. You had asked him if there had been anyone else after that. He had replied that he couldn't allow you to do that in his situation. Not if it was always under observation. This answer brought tears to your eyes. The idea of never being able to love because there would always be someone else around made you sad. It also occurred to you that it wouldn't be easy to find someone who was okay with this situation.

"There should be moments and feelings that belong only to you," you say, leaning slightly towards him.

Mirroring your actions, he leaned in as well, and you felt the hum of restrained energy ripple between you—like static caught in the air, like the moment before a lightning strike. Something seemed to pull you towards him. And as his lips met yours, a tremor ran through him. A split-second later, a burst of pain flared behind his eyes. He gritted his teeth and pulled away, clutching his temple.

“Kieran...he,” he gasped.

“He...what?,” you asked. He did not answer. He felt Kieran bite his hand, a warning. Luke had felt the pain too. Kieran had done it to remind him that he too would feel the pain and heartache if it backfired.

Luke had almost forgotten about that. If you didn't feel the same as him, it would just be a game for you, both brothers would have to feel the strong emotions of unrequited love.

___ _ _ _

Luke didn’t speak to you for three days after the kiss. Not in the halls of the N-109 outpost, not over the comms, not even a glance when you passed in the mess hall and brushed shoulders by accident—though you were sure it wasn’t an accident. You replayed that moment in the auxiliary hub over and over in your mind. The kiss. The way he’d said “He can’t hear me.” The pain that flared in him before silence fell.

And now that silence was everywhere. It wrapped around you like a shroud. You weren’t the only one who noticed. Sylus cornered you by the diagnostics console on the fourth morning. He leaned lazily against the panel, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a look that was too casual to be innocent.

“Y/n, did you do something to Luke?” he asked bluntly.

You blinked, “What?”

“He’s been—off. Shut down. Like someone flipped all his switches halfway and forgot to put the rest back,” Sylus explained his point of view.

You gave him a wary look, “Maybe he’s just busy.”

Thats when Kieran felt the need to enter the conversation,a s he entered the room. He snorted,“My brother doesn’t get ‘busy.’ He gets obsessed. If he’s not working, he’s reading reports. If he’s not reading, he’s training. Lately, he’s doing none of that. You’re the variable.”

You tried to shrug it off, “We talked. That’s it.”

Sylus tilted his head, smile thin, “Talked, huh?” Kids these days were something different he thought. Kieran watched you a moment longer, something sharper in his eyes now, “I haven’t felt him lately. He cuts our connection sometimes....he has never done this before. It’s muffled. Like I’m hearing echoes through water.”

Your chest tightened,“You said once you shared everything. What happens if—?”

“If he cuts me out?” leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Then he’s hurting. Bad.”

You didn’t say anything, but Kieran wasn’t stupid. His eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked into place.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me he—? Ohhh. He did.”

You looked down, voice barely above a whisper, “He said he wanted something that was his. Just for once.”

Kieran straightened slowly, the amusement drained from his face.

“He wouldn’t do that. Not unless…,” He trailed off, then swore under his breath,“He’s falling. That idiot.”

“Falling?,” you echoed.

“In love,” Kieran said bitterly,“Which is exactly why he’s avoiding you now.”

"That would explain a lot," Sylus chimed in. You stared at Kieran, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Kieran ran a hand through his hair, “Oh, it makes perfect sense if you know Luke. He feels things harder than I do. Deeper. He tries to control it, manage it like a system, but if he falls for you—then it’s not just him anymore. It’s me too. I’ll feel it. Every heartbeat. Every ache. Every crack. Every longing.”

You stepped back, suddenly cold,“You’d feel it if his heart breaks?”

Kieran nodded,“Down to the last shattered piece.”

Seeing the shock on your face, Sylus stepped in,"We should probably have told you this earlier.... There is an organisation that is experimenting with the protocores on humans. Luke and Kieran come from just such a lab. They were born twins and orphans. That's why. times chose them, or so we assume. I found them on one of my missions when they were just six. They've lived and worked here with me ever since."

"Both Luka and I each have a piece of the same protocore in our bodies. We don't know where exactly, but it connects us and makes us one person," Kieran explained further.

You couldn’t believe it. Not really, but the tears in your eyes said something different.....This was horrible. You could never grasp what the both of them must have been through.

Not until later that night, when you found Luke standing alone on the northern perimeter of the dome, hands clasped behind his back, watching the storm swirl outside like it could wash away whatever he was wrestling with.

“Luke,” you said softly. He stiffened, didn’t turn.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you tried again. He didn’t answer.

“I deserve to know why,” was your last try.

He was silent for a long moment, before speaking in a low voice, rough with restraint, “I suppressed the link to give you a moment that was mine. Just mine. I thought… I could hold onto it. Like a keepsake. But I underestimated the pain Kieran would feel, if the connection was lost. I cant imagine what it would feel like if I cut him off forever...the pain...”

Your heart twisted,“Then why are you shutting me out? Maybe I can help?”

He finally turned. His eyes were tired—dark circles under them, skin pale under the faint glow of the perimeter lights. His voice cracked like something barely held together,“Because I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

Silence dropped like a blade.

“Luke—,” you were taken aback.

“If I do,” he said, taking a step back, “you’ll be in every thought. Every breath. And if I lose you… it won’t just hurt me. Kieran will feel it too. He won’t say it, but he will. We’re not just connected—we’re entangled. We always have been.”

He looked down at his hands, as if they were covered in something he couldn’t scrub off.

“I suppressing the link would make it easier. But it didn’t. I still feel everything, more even, I can feel his pain, his anger towards me” he admitted.

You took a step toward him, and he didn’t move.

“Then don’t do it alone,” you said gently, “If you’re scared, I’ll be scared with you. But don’t pretend it didn’t mean anything. It did. To me.”

He looked up, and for the first time, you saw fear behind his usual calm—raw and honest.

“I’m not afraid of pain,” he whispered, “I’m afraid of what happens if you’re the one to walk away.”

You reached out, took his hand, “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

He didn’t pull away. For now, the storm stayed outside.

___ _ _ _

Let it be said: sneaking around a top-secret blacksite base controlled by Onychirus is technically treason. But it doesn’t feel like treason when Luke has his hand on the small of your back and is tugging you into some obscure storage closet between Section 4 and the emergency escape corridor. The lights in here flicker like a bad romance holodrama.

“Are we seriously doing this again?” you ask, breathless from running. Luke’s smirk is all slow, dangerous confidence,“We’re alone.”

“Until Sylus finds us and ejects us into space,” you teased. He kisses you anyway.

Across the base, Kieran groans and slams his datapad onto the table. It bounces, nearly shattering against the steel surface.

“He’s doing it again,” he growls to no one in particular.

The mercenary standing nearby flinches,“Who’s doing what?”

“My brother. My emotionally-repressed genius brother who thinks suppressing a psychic bond is the same thing as disabling it.” Kieran pinches the bridge of his nose,“I’m getting secondhand butterflies. BUTTERFLIES. You know what that feels like? Like indigestion and emotional weakness. In my chest.”

The merc hurries away. Too much family drama.

___ _ _ _

Back in the closet, Luke’s lips brush against your jawline like it’s classified. His hands settle on your waist and stay there.

“You’re laughing,” he says against your skin.

“I’m not,” you say clearly giggling.

“You are. I can feel it,” he smiled.

You giggle anyway and swat at him,“You’re supposed to be cold and mysterious.”

“I’m a liar,” he murmurs, before kissing you again. The whole thing is reckless, warm, and a little awkward—especially when you both bump into a shelf of prototype drone parts and nearly knock an entire crate over.

CLANK.

You both freeze. Luke whispers, “We need to be more careful.”

You whisper, “You’re the one with your hands on my ass.”

“…Noted.”

After the butterfly flew away, Kieran was able to get back to work. He stares at a half-finished data schematic and suddenly drops his stylus. His hand flexes. His heart rate spikes.

“What now,” he mutters aloud. A flash of heat wavers through his body. A shiver of tension. Someone is kissing. He is kissing? No, not him. Not really.

“Luke,” he growls, eyes narrowing, “You absolute idiot.”

"Like its a suprise", Sylus low voice said suddenly, "I want you to finish your work properly, lets go get the two. This needs to end."

And he was right. Kieran hadn't been able to concentrate on his work for a fortnight because his brother's feelings and senses had been transferred to him. Strong ones at that. It practically put him out of action.

___ _ _ _

“Found them,” Sylus announces five minutes later, as he opens the closet door with the force of a judge issuing a death sentence.

You and Luke spring apart like guilty teenagers caught making out behind a gym—which, emotionally, is basically what this is. Sylus stares at the scene in front of him: Luke’s jacket half-off, your lipstick smeared, both of you wide-eyed like escapees from a romance drama.

“You know,” he says flatly, “I may be the leader of a semi-illegal black ops mercenary syndicate, but even I have standards. A closet, really???”

Luke brushes imaginary dust off his shirt. “We weren’t—”

“I KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING. I FELT IT THROUGH THE BOND, Luke. I had to stop working because you were ‘probably not being tortured.’” Kieran gestures with both hands, enraged, “Do you have any idea how awkward it is to get secondhand arousal from my own twin? This is emotional WARFARE.”

“Sorry,” you apologized sheepishly.

Sylus turns to you, eyes narrowed. “And now to you young Lady. I trusted you.”

“Wait, what?,” all exclaimed, turning to face Sylus.

He waves you off. “Not really. But still. I had higher hopes.”

“You didn’t have to feel it if you weren’t so nosy,” Luke turned now to his brother.

Kieran makes an exasperated noise that sounds like a dying engine,“You suppressed the bond, not shut it down. You can’t mute a fire alarm by shoving a sock in your ears!”

Luke raises an eyebrow,“That’s not how fire alarms work.”

Kieran groans into his hand,“You know what? Fine. Go ahead. Keep sneaking around like horny civilians on shore leave. I’ll just be here. Being the right hand to a cutthroat corporation. Babysitting my psychically-linked disaster of a brother who keep getting emotionally entangled with his co-worker.”

As he storms off, you and Luke exchange a look.

Luke shrugs, “So… back to the closet?”

“Let’s try the ventilation shafts this time,” you grin, “More plausible deniability.”

In the shadows of the base, Kieran sits in silence, eyes glowing faintly blue. He taps into the bond—just for a second—and feels the echo of your lips against Luke’s. Kieran’s jaw tightens,“…He’s going to get himself killed.”

But there’s a faint smile on his face.

___ _ _ _

Sylus kicked the door to HQ open with all the dramatics of a man juggling a galaxy's worth of secrets in one arm and a mysterious woman in the other.

“Alright,” he grunted, dragging her in by the wrist, “we've got a guest.”

The woman—MC, as she introduced herself—was cold-eyed, scarred, and strangely calm for someone who’d just been pulled out of a top-security Onychirus intel hunt. Her presence was charged. Not psychic. Not kinetic. But undeniably… known.

And Luke, standing across the command deck, barely noticed her. Because you were standing just beside her. You. Hair a little messy from recon. Cheeks flushed from the elevator ride. Laughing softly at something Sylus had muttered.

Luke’s jaw clenched. His heart rate spiked. He looked away, hard. Suppress it. Focus.

“...and this,” Sylus was saying, gesturing toward MC, “this is an intruder send by the hunters. Wanted to attend an auction but merely was desguised. Beginners mistake. But there are also some good news, the hunters know a lot. Maybe shes someone who knows how to sever and reestablish twin psych-links.”

Silence.

Luke’s head snapped up so fast Kieran looked over, alarmed.

“Sorry—what?,” Kieran asked, crossing his arms, stepping out of the shadow like a very irritated backup drive.

MC nodded slowly. “I, myself have a protocore in my body, therefore I read your neural sequencing. You’re "broadcasting" on an open shared frequency. Crude but stable. With the right focus node, it’s possible to turn the link off temporarily… and back on, without psychic recoil.”

Sylus blinked, “You're telling me these two could—what—toggle their brains like Bluetooth?”

MC just smiled,“Basically.”

Luke forgot how to breathe. MC handed Sylus something, “The calibration protocol’s inside. Use a neuro-sink, boost frequency buffering, and you’ll get privacy.”

Privacy.

Luke made a noise that was halfway between a cough and a desperate prayer.

Sylus didn’t even look up. “I swear to the void, if you two start dry-humping across my air vents the minute you get emotional autonomy, I’m going to jettison myself into space.”

And thats, how all of you spend the afternoon. You tested it. Neuro-sync chamber. Calm lighting. A quiet hum. MC guiding Kieran and Luke through mental alignment, then detachment.

Luke stared. He felt the link to his brother loosen. He stood up. Kieran blinked at the sudden action,“You good?”

Luke walked right past him. You were still in the hall, besides the little room MC, Kieran and Luke tried to disable the link, when Luke emerged, and it only took a look for everything to combust. He walked straight to the hall. Straight to you.

“Are you—?,” you began to question. And then he was on you. Mouth crushing against yours. Hands gripping your hips, pulling you into him like you were the only solid thing left in the universe. You gasped into his mouth. He groaned.

“Oh my stars—,” Kieran’s voice echoed from the comm system. “Were not fully detached.”

MC coughed politely in the background.

“Can they breathe?” she asked.

“They’re young. Let them burn it off,” Sylus said, sipping from his thermal flask,“They’ll pass out eventually.”

___ _ _ _

By the time you and Luke emerged in the dinner hall—clothes slightly rumpled, hair an arguable disaster—Sylus was reviewing MC’s data, waiting for dinner to be served and Kieran had fully committed to pretending you didn’t exist.

“Are you okay?” you asked him.

He scowled,“Your boyfriend’s psychic horniness just leaked through the backup link and I got a vision of a janitor’s closet that I wish I could unsee.”

Luke didn’t even pretend to be sorry. Sylus sighed deeply, not looking up from the display,“If you break anything while making out, you're both getting reassigned to waste-processing in a Nebulon outpost.”

You saluted. Luke smirked.

Luke had you. His head was clear. His brother wasn’t screaming. And teenage horny chaos reigned supreme.

[disappearinginq]

Fic association: Wrong Side of Heaven

Ah, Wrong Side, my beloved...

Deleted scene:

I wrote and rewrote Chapter 9 like 13 times. Possibly more. I kept trying to include every aspect of their captivity, and I wanted - so badly- to have the scene where Thomas 1) sees the bad guy and 2) realizes that Hannah sold them out. But I could not fucking write it to save my life and it irks me to this day

So, have the part I kept:

Thomas had plenty of time to think. In the dark of the Pit, where time ceased and all he had were his own thoughts and he needed something to distract him from the worry about his friends, the ache that settled deep in his bones and made it impossible to sleep, he wondered why.

Why were they here?

Not in the cosmic sense, but…why them? Why here? Why like this?

If they were so concerned about Robin, then why keep them here, alive? The longer they were prisoners, the less any intel they had would be useful. Information they demanded was out of date, utterly useless in a matter of days, if not hours. Weeks? Months? It was pointless. Unless it was just an excuse to torture him, but…why bother with a reason, other than because they could?

Jesus, it could be years before they were released. Only one POW was ever successfully recovered between WWII and now, and she was rescued after only nine days, and it was only because she was taken to a hospital and someone reported her to the Americans.

So why were they kept alive? They weren’t being bargained for. In all the times they’d beaten the hell out him - pulled nails, snapped fingers, punched and kicked and hit until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move - they’d never demanded he renounce the United States. They never asked after anything except Masters. Even now, months later.

What the fuck did you get us into, Rob?

Thomas’s best guess was Robin caught their traitor on camera, with undeniable proof of their existence. But if they were concerned about their identity being revealed, why not kill them? Before it could be rationalized that they wanted information, but now…now that made no sense at all. What information could they possibly think Thomas had that would be of any value? If Robin was dead, any information he had died with him. If he was alive, he would’ve given up the evidence by now, and Thomas and the guys would be dead, and the Taliban wouldn’t give two shits one way or another where Robin was.

Thomas let his head drop back against the wall of the Pit, wincing as he found another bruise. God, his MRI was going to look like a goddamn Christmas tree.

Okay, he thought to himself. If Robin doesn’t matter, why do they keep asking?

Why would he keep asking a question he already knew the answer to?

To keep them from knowing what he was really after.

He felt a surge of something disturbingly close to hope stir in his chest.

Something that started with Robin, or they would’ve never asked about him in the first place. Maybe something they thought Robin shared with him? If that was the case, it was again back to but why wouldn’t they just kill us and be done with it?

Back to the drawing board.

Information he shared with Robin.

Did they think he’d passed information along to Robin? No - had to be something a little more than just sharing with him, because again, they were more of a hassle to keep alive if they thought he was the one with the damning information.

---

“Oh. Oh…” Jahingir leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth curling up into a genuinely amused half smile. “You haven’t put it together, have you? Given the stories I’ve heard about you, Lieutenant, and, honestly, considering the colossal pain in the ass you’ve been to my operations, you must not have all the pieces.”

Thomas blinked, struggling to make sense of what the man was spouting off about now. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jahingir laughed outright. “You still don’t know why you’re here. Why it’s you, and nobody else.”

Thomas shook his head, not so much in denial, but because he had no idea what the guy was on. “Because we were with Masters.”

“Close,” the man said, clicking his tongue. “Very close. But not quite. You see…Masters is my primary target, that’s true. But only because he’s not here with you, and I don’t have any proof he’s dead elsewhere. No, Lieutenant, you’re here, with your friends, because you were poking about where you didn’t belong. Scratching at doors that didn’t need to be opened. You probably don’t even know how close you were to proving my existence. Well…” he shrugged, then amended. “Maybe you knew how close you were to me. You seem the type to have a sense about those things. But did you perhaps wonder…just for a moment…that I couldn’t have this empire of mine if I was alone? Who must have helped me, you think?”

Magnum didn’t dignify him with an answer. He’d suspected it many times. Too many pieces were just that – pieces. Loosely connected and hardly relevant. It was the argument he’d gone round and round with Greene about – having enough proof to justify a manhunt to rival that of the one for Bin Laden. The man seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice – he would let him talk. Let him implicate Academi and Wert and his guns-for-hire private paramilitary group.

Jahingir’s grin broadened. “You think you know, but you don’t. Because if you truly understood how you came to be here…I doubt you would take it so gracefully.”

Thomas frowned. “Just spit it out. I’m working on my third concussion, so all trains of thought are currently being derailed, and I think I might pass out before you get to the point.”

Jahingir suddenly leaned forward, out of his seat until he was almost nose to nose with Magnum, hands slamming down on his forearms and gripping with bruising strength. “You did, Lieutenant. All of my greatest successes, I owe to you. In another time and place, you would be an honored guest at my table for all that you have done for me. This empire of mine would not be possible without you and your friends. It shames me that I must treat you so now, but I have struggled too hard and too long to let Masters and his fatal curiosity to risk it now, and you refuse to give me the information I need. This could be over, Lieutenant, as soon as you tell me where I will find that fduli journalist.”

Magnum knew he misheard. Maybe Nuzo was right about the brain damage. He struggled to form a coherent thought, a rationalization of what the man in front of him just told him.

He was too sincere to be lying.

But he had to be.

“What?”

“You have cleared my path of any obstacles, my friend. My enemies struck down by you and your team. I control everything now. All thanks to you and –”

“Hannah…” he breathed.

Jahingir smiled. “Yes. Hannah. Your lovely fiancé, if I heard correctly? Congratulations on this happy news. She’s made me promise to keep you alive, but as she hasn’t lived up to her end of the bargain, I see no reason why I should. So let me make this abundantly clear, in as few words as possible - tell me where Robin Masters is, and what he knows, and I will let you live. I might even be persuaded to let you go. Now, I’m not about to drive you up to the base gates, but I’ll give you a sporting chance - a half hour head start. I’ll even tell you which direction to head in. And if the locals don’t shoot you, or the dogs don’t tear you and your friends apart, and the vipers don’t bite you…you’ll have a fighting chance of making it home. You are a SEAL. I’ve seen what men like you can do.”

Thomas stared at him. He didn’t hear a single word the man said. The world faded around the edges, tunneling his vision until all he could see was Jahingir. The confident smirk on his face. The pristine white of his perahan tunban, the fine embroidery of his coat along the chest. Everything about him was perfect. Pristine.

And in that moment, Thomas wanted him to be as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.

He was still tied to the chair, but only at his hands, which was stupid on their part, but good for him. Jahingir’s face was still only inches from his, and Thomas lunged forwards and savagely bit down on the cartilage and bone of the bridge of his cheek. His teeth sunk down through skin and muscle, the taste of blood filling his mouth but he refused to let go. Hands pushed and pulled against him, yanking at his hair forcefully enough he thought for sure it would give way and tear his scalp from his skull, but he didn’t let up. He sank his teeth down further, scraping bone, until suddenly the skin between his teeth gave way.

There is the possibility that this will still be included in a flashback, but this is the inciting incident as to how he wants up with the wound of unknown origin from the pilot, and why he stops talking around this time in the fic.

[pipskippy]

theres something abt suzaku and lelouch that makes for really nice atmospheric dreams for me i think it’s a big part of why cg has stuck with me lolll. very fitting actually bc i originally watched it because i kept having dreams about it and got curious…

[qqueenofhades]

Look man, I don't know. There are a lot of fascist fuckwits trying their best to ruin everything for everyone right now. There have often been a lot of fascist fuckwits trying to ruin everything for everyone. Not to downplay the pain and trauma we're all feeling at having to struggle through this particular go-round when the future looks especially dark, but it's not exactly a new thing in human history. Alas.

There are still many, many people telling the fascist fuckwits to eat shit. There are still long green spring evenings and slow golden summer afternoons and winter nights and autumn leaves. There are still coffee shops and weird little bookstores and small businesses on sidewalks lined with flowered trees. There are still sunrises and sunsets and blue skies and ocean shores and mountains. Oh yes, there are still mountains, which I have an especial fondness for. High up there in thin air, you can see forever.

There are still Gay People In Your Phone and texts and in-jokes. There are your blorbos. There is still fic and fanart. There are still books and music and games and art. There is a lot of art. Even with the AI beast trying to gobble and commercialize everything, there's still art! There are still people who think using your own brain to do things is important! There are still universities and publishing houses and other places where it's our job to think about things that matter!

There is still work that feels fulfilling to do. There are still constant little moments of quiet and beauty and rest. There are still jaw-dropping pictures of nebulae and galaxies and the great immensity of space, as we continue to learn things we never knew before. And amid all those stars, there is still a tiny, beautiful, and vulnerable blue planet which we only get to live on for a very short time, and there are still kids who are counting on us to make sure they get to inherit it in some kind of recognizable form. There is still the weird fact that when you give someone a hug and sit with them for a while and tell them over and over that it will be okay, it actually feels like it might be okay. I think that all means something.

Doomerism is really easy right now. I get it. I honestly 100% do. But I also don't see any point whatsoever in throwing up our hands and letting said fascist fuckwits gleefully terrify us into submission and make us live in fear and act like they're the Actual Meaning of the World (they are not). They suck so incredibly hard, but they're also so small and so stupid and so ultimately insignificant. They will not define this particular moment if we don't let them, and if we stick around to make sure they don't. Fuck 'em. I believe in you.

Courage, etc.

[twilightofthesandwiches]

There’s a lot of stuff in Deltarune, especially Ralsei’s arc, that is, I think, kind of an exploration/critique of common Video Game tropes about Player Character-NPCs friendships. Mainly the simplification of good/bad options in friendship progression and the concept of the blank-slate protagonist in the context of video game friendships.

I mean, that whole thing of having a Player Character being a stand-in for the Player and so building friendships in-game is much more focused on flashing out the NPCs and making them lovable to the Player. While explaining which traits in the Player Character the NPCs likes or what they would like to do together is given less focus and a lot more ambiguity. Because… well… that character needs to stand in for any person ever who plays the game and they need to feel like this character likes them whatever their individual traits may be. As well as how this whole thing interacts with choices. Like gamifying the idea of friendship into just picking the nicest and most pleasing and placating option until you ‘win’ the status of being friends with them.

Like, that’s also kind of a thing in Undertale (as certain elements in Deltarune are based on or built on the audience response to Undertale). I hardly think it’s a detriment to that game, to me it’s more of a thing of “a game can’t be Everything at Once. Part of Undertale’s greatness is that it knows what it wants to focus on”. But many fans have already poked fun at how, because the idea of Frisk not being a total Blank-Slate-Self-Insert is actually kind of a twist - most of the other characters’ friendships with Frisk involve these wonderfully-written fully-rounded adults trauma-dumping on this silent blank child and then going “Wow you’re such a great friend, I’m so happy you’re here to support me!”

Papyrus’ character was already kinda a Tounge-in-Cheek acknowledgement of the absurdity of the situation. A Guy who is both extremely self-absorbed and extremely wholesome to such an absurd degree that he basically cannot help himself but befriend you, no matter what you do (I mean, unless you kill him)

And I think a lot of Ralsei’s arc in Deltarune, in the ways he relate to Susie and Kris, is meant as a more serious exploration of these tropes.

Because Ralsei starts out with a very… video-gamey idea of how friendship works. He thinks that it’s just about being nice and making sure others are happy

And is shocked to realize how much he appreciates Susie, a person who… if she was the Player, she would absolutely not be choosing the nicest most placating choice each time. She can be a bit prickly and abrasive…. but it doesn’t actually diminish of his fondness of her.

Because, you know, that’s what actual real-life friendships are like.

And yet Ralsei is still surprised to learn that the same is true of him. That his friends also don’t demand just generic niceness, placating comments and gifts from him - they like his personality, not a blank slate. That’s the important part.

And, of course, that also connects with the whole thing of Choices That Don’t Matter and the disconnect between Player and Player Character. While Frisk being their own independent person that you had to leave to have a happy life with their friends is kind of a Twist in Undertale, we know Kris is their own person from pretty early on.

So first of all that creates more situations where despite our control Kris can let their unique personality shine through regardless. Kris’ friendships feel real because Kris is a person separate from the Player who therefore has their own personality that their friends like.

Plus, like with Susie, Kris isn’t necessarily the nicest and most accommodating person. They’re kind of an Edgelord WeirdEnby, so the interactions that show their personality and endears them to their friend often stands in contrast to the nicey accommodating tone of a Player trying to always choose the ‘Good’ option.

Sometimes the ‘right’ answer with Kris isn’t the nicest one, even when they’re with their friends. Because they like Kris, and that kinda comes pre-packaged with a little bit of emotionally-detached teasing.

And our choices don’t really matter, because outside of the Total Terror that is the Weird Route, the Player can’t really choose in a way that changes Kris’ relationships. They will rebel against words that are too cruel or too saccharine for them.

And the actions they take on their own will always be the most important to the development of their friendships.

It’s kind of the most heartwarming twist Deltarune has on the idea of ‘Your Choices Don’t Matter’. Your choices don’t matter because when it comes to friendship, Kris’ personality will always triumph over your choices.

And of course, the general conceit of Deltarune makes the idea of an NPC liking the Player over the personality of the Player Character to be an especially chilling conceit. It makes people inherently more open to the idea because the alternative feels like such a grim concept in-universe. This is one case I am very thankful my choices don't matter and I would like it to continue that way!

[dannyriccsystem]

CUDDLE-BUGS!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

SUMMARY: How the drivers like to cuddle :)

OVERALL W.C: 2.1K

WARNINGS: Fluff, slightly suggestive in a few of them

FEATURING: MV1, DR3, LN4, KA12, CL16, PA17, YT22, AA23, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81, OB87

NOTE: Featuring Paul Aron as a special treat for the lots of fans he has here…

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

Oh this boy LOVES cuddling. Max is big on physical affection and you actually can’t convince me otherwise. He’s constantly sprawled across the sofa cushions with his head on your lap, and if you dare not play with his hair instantly, he will literally grab your hand and put it on his head like a silent command. He’s like a cat; as soon as you stop touching him, he’ll nuzzle against you until you continue.

Cue the Maxplaining. He’s rambling, talking with his hands while he looks up at the ceiling. You watch with a fond expression, brushing strands of hair away from his face while he goes on and on about the car and the physics behind it and all the great overtakes he’s witnessed. You’re listening, but not retaining the information, because all you can think about are his pretty eyes and how cute he is when he’s ranting.

When you’re both laying down, Max likes to be tucked into you. He usually has his nose buried in your neck, taking in the soft scent of your perfume. He’ll pepper you with lazy kisses; he only stops when he falls asleep, which usually doesn’t take that long. He’s knocked out in an instant. There’s something about you that lulls him to sleep almost instantly.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

This is the spooning truther. Daniel loves spooning, he thinks it’s so intimate and close. But here’s the grand question of the day: Is he the big spoon or the little spoon?

Well. Both.

It really depends. I think most days he’s the big spoon. He likes holding you in his muscular arms. It makes you feel extra small, which is a bonus in its own. He likes whispering little jokes and quips in your ear, and making you squirm when he lightly tickles your sides occasionally.

But sometimes he likes to be held too. He likes when your much smaller arms wrap around him, and he gets to feel vulnerable. Even if it’s just for a little bit. You’re warm as you snuggle him from behind, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. He likes how you cradle him and hold him like he’s the only person in the world.

So, yeah. This giant softie likes to be on the receiving end of your hugs every now and then. Be kind to him and let him show his soft side.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Lando streaming with his camera off, only because you’re asleep on his lap. His audience is wondering why his voice has lowered tenfold, and why his rage-quitting moments have been reduced to a soft bang of his fist on the desk followed by a gentle sigh.

Little do they know, your thighs are straddling him with your face tucked into the crook of his neck, snoring away. He’s cradling your figure with one hand, and using the other to play the game, which explains why his quality of performance has gone way down. He’s rubbing circles onto your back, occasionally kissing your scalp and forehead. He’ll lean away from the mic to whisper in your ear when you stir to consciousness, lulling you back into your slumber.

He loves the fact that you’re somewhat clingy with him. He loves how you have to be close to him—so much that you’re willing to just fall asleep right there on his lap. He’s burning the memory into his brain because he never wants to forget your cute sleepy face :)

—

KIMI ANTONELLI - KA12

I think Kimi’s hard to cuddle with sometimes. He’s always moving, and always talking. One second you’re spooning, the next he has his back to yours, and then he’s on top of you like a blanket, and then he rolls over and you’re on top of him… Yeah. Can’t hold still.

“Did I tell you about what Ollie said to me today?” He’d muse to your sleepy self, and before you could even utter a groggy no, he’d be telling you anyway. You often want to tell him to shut up and go to sleep, but he has that big dorky smile on his face and you just can’t say no.

Even long after you’ve fallen asleep, he continues yapping. It’s not until he actually realizes you’re happily snoring away that he finally quiets down and goes to sleep himself. He always asks if you find it annoying, but in reality his joyous voice and his fluctuating heartbeat, that you can hear with your head on his chest, are usually what ultimately lull you to sleep.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

This boy needs a hug and you can tell. Whenever he comes home, no matter where he’s gone off to, it’s practically become a ritual for him to walk in pathetically, tail tucked between his legs. You’ve nearly conditioned him, and he doesn’t even realize it. The first time it happened was just a mere coincidence: he was genuinely upset, and you welcomed him with a warm bed and open arms.

Then it kept happening, and eventually you realized that he pretended to be upset every time he came home so that he could snuggle up against you and have you baby him all night. You have to wonder if Charles even realizes this anymore. It’s just part of your nightly routine at this point.

He practically flops on top of you as soon as you send him that little smile and open your arms. He buries his face in your neck, arms wrapped around your abdomen. All of a sudden that sad expression has been replaced by a shitty grin that tells you he won. This is heaven. He just doesn’t realize that you absolutely know what he’s up to…

—

PAUL ARON - PA17

Paul is a delight to cuddle with. An absolute delight. He’s quiet, respectful, and very affectionate. As soon as he sees you pull your current book out, he’s diving onto the bed to situate himself beside you. He has one arm thrown across your stomach, and his head resting on your shoulder. He sleepily studies your face, occasionally peeking at the words on the page.

His hands wander for sure, but not in a weird way. Lightly calloused palms spread out over your stomach, scratching you like you’re a dog. When you start to play with his curls, he essentially loses his grip on staying awake. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep at that point. Your fingers curl around his hair, playing with individual locks and blonde swirls.

Pepper his face with kisses once he’s asleep. He likes waking up to go to the bathroom, and finding that his face is covered in your lipstick. Absolute perfection. He doesn’t even bother wiping it off, he just joins you in bed again and happily dozes off again.

—

YUKI TSUNODA - YT22

I think it depends on Yuki’s mood. He’s either all over you, or he’s falling asleep as far away as possible. It’s not even like a… Yuki’s angry so he doesn’t want to cuddle. It's just that some days he’s not up for it, and that’s perfectly fine with you.

However, no matter what position you fall asleep in, you two almost always wake up in each other’s arms again. He’ll fall asleep saying he wants some space, and then you wake up and he’s squeezing you like you’re his personal stuffed animal, entirely unconscious whilst doing so. He may be small, but he has a mighty grip on you.

Not big on PDA, but when you’re alone together, he loves being all over you essentially. Let the guy climb you like a tree.

—

ALEX ALBON - AA23

Alex is one of those people that loves to be cuddling… Constantly. But his favorite is at the beach. Both of you could be sprawled out on a large towel or blanket, taking in the sun, and suddenly he’s pulling you to his side and clinging to you like a damn barnacle. He’s a gentleman, too. He’s always asking if you’re comfortable, and how he can get you to be comfortable if not.

Once you try to pull away, he tends to get a bit whiny. He’s pulling you back in his arms and pretending like you’ve really hurt his feelings by daring to get up. He’ll drag it on, too. “Sighh,” With the clutch of his chest as you wriggle around in his hold. “I can’t believe you hate me… Is it because I stink? Sighh…”

He’ll let you go, but not without a lot of complaining. It would be easier to just give him what he wants, honestly. But at the end of the day he really just wants to snuggle up behind you and fall asleep like that, your body pressed to his.

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Unfortunately cuddling with Lewis always leads to a wholesome make out session. Or, maybe that’s more fortunate than anything. You plant yourself atop him, legs on either side of his lap. When you lean in to rest your head, you find yourself being pulled into a kiss instead.

You peck his lips momentarily, but he’s hungry and he keeps pulling you in for more whilst you share soft laughter. It could potentially develop into something more, but there’s always some obstacle. A few times you’ve accidentally bitten his lip a little too hard, and you both break away to laugh instead.

Cuddling is nice afterwards. He holds you like you’re his entire world— because you are. He’s both gentle and rough, soft and warm— Lewis is a dream. He’s the dream. He’s perfect.

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

Carlos is a very traditional cuddler. When the two of you watch a movie together, he’ll casually throw his arm over your shoulder and tug you closer, usually kissing your scalp in the moment. He loves having you curled up next to him with your head on his chest.

It’s at this point he kind of stops focusing on the movie, and his attention diverts to you. Your smell, your sleepy eyes, your little giggles whenever something funny happens… Now he can’t seem to focus on anything but you, because he just is so infatuated with you.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the night ends in cheeky little kisses. If you’re lucky, maybe a bit more. He can’t help the way you make him feel.

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

George does not mind PDA, and he definitely favors a good lap cuddle. I think if you were both attending a late night event, he’d let you rest on his lap, even if others were watching. Your legs are thrown over his, and your face is nestled against his chest. He has one arm around you, and the other is over your lap to gently rub your thigh.

Other people used to stare, but everyone’s used to it by now. It’s not like you guys are being gross and secretly kissing and touching and giggling. You’re simply just asleep on his lap, and he’s softly rubbing your skin to help you stay that way. It’s cute.

If you don’t wake up, George will even carry you back to the car. He keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives because he knows it brings you comfort. Your joy is his top priority. Always.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

Oscar shamelessly loves to be between your thighs.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. Not in a dirty way. He likes to lay his head back on your stomach with your legs on either side of him, framing his face. It’s oddly comforting to be lightly squeezed by your legs, he has to admit. Play with his hair a bit too, he could sleep there forever.

Sometimes the roles swap though. You find yourself between his meaty legs, encased by pure muscle. It’s like heaven, situating yourself there. However… Not to be crude, but he does have to keep his thoughts tame during the process, otherwise you’ve both got a mess to handle.

He’s not a huge cuddle bug I’d say, but when Oscar is in the mood for some intimate touching, it’s… Between your legs. Not like that! Most of the time.

—

OLIVER BEARMAN - OB87

He’s been eyeing you all night. Everytime you ask him what’s up, he denies it and says he was just zoning out, but there’s definitely something on Ollie’s mind. You think you have him figured out, but he’s not giving you much to work with… So you test it out.

You mutter a rather loud “it’s cold in here,” and it’s like he’s a sleeper agent being awoken by those code words. He turns to you quickly, and suddenly he’s up from his position on a nearby chair. He walks over to his bed, and flops down right on top of you, all 6 feet and 2 inches of Ollie smothering you.

He even pulls a blanket up on top of that. He’ll bury his face in your chest, a stupid grin covering his face. He’s right where he wants to be.

[retrosabers]

𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship & smut hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a lot of angst (mentions of insecurity, past trauma), some relationship fluff, 18+ SMUT CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DNI (praise kink, dry humping, fem receiving oral, a tinge of dirty talk)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: if you had a dollar for everytime i apologized for not posting, boy would you be rich LMAO

this writer’s block is no bueno. but, i can sense my bucky era coming back full throttle and i think he might be the cure. enjoy these unnecessarily angsty hcs in the meantime ;) and feel free to share any of your own!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

is very fond of the outdoors. he’s not a “take a hike and run a mile” kind of guy, but he gets genuine enjoyment and relaxation from sitting on a park bench and breathing in the fresh air and soaking in his surroundings. one afternoon you surprised him with a trip to a botanical garden on the outskirts of the city and he absolutely loved it. you don’t think you’ve ever seen bucky more at peace than when he was wandering amongst the greenery without an ounce of tension in his body.

can’t stand clutter. once he warms up to acquiring more belongings, everything has its designated place and it needs to stay that way. call it a mild case of ocd, or an undying need to control the ins and outs of his day to day life, but bucky can’t even think about shutting down for the night if his apartment is a mess. any files out on the table get tucked away in a well organized filing cabinet, dishes are dried and placed in the cupboard, laundry is either in the hamper or folded neatly in its respective drawer. he keeps everything as neat and pristine and possible for the sake of his sanity.

one of the only useful pieces of advice he retained from therapy was journaling. bucky still struggles a bit with verbalizing his feelings, so he often just writes them all down in lieu of talking it out. after he realizes just how much it works, he starts to journal about his days in detail. doesn’t matter if he’s feeling calm, or anxious, or how mundane the itinerary is, he makes sure to document it. partly because of the relief it brings, and just in case something happens to his memory again.

secret candle enthusiast, except it’s just one specific scent. you bought it for him as a housewarming present and he was absolutely certain that it was going to smell atrocious. what could possibly be so great about amber vanilla musk. turns out it’s the most perfect gift you ever could’ve given, so much so that he snuck over to bath and body works the next day to buy another one. the aroma fits him in a way that’s indescribable, plus it makes his apartment feel more like somewhere he wants to be rather than has to. it’s become a running gag to gift him one for every special occasion, and he always accepts it with a small, appreciative smirk.

this man is a real life disney princess. animals follow him EVERYWHERE and he’s got no clue as to why. you say it’s because they can sense at his core that he’s kind and gentle, and he always waves it off with a frown and a grumble (and a blush he desperately tries to hide). he feeds all the strays on his block, and eventually caves and brings one of them home. when you went to his place and found a tiny white kitten sitting on the counter, you thought you were hallucinating. then bucky walked in and gave a little scratch between her ears and it all pieced together.

“i knew it,” you mutter knowingly, eyes fixated on the way she preens from his touch. “you’re just a big ol’ softie.” bucky doesn’t offer any sort of rejection or rebuttal, only a halfway pointed stare before simply scooping the little animal into his arms and showing her off to you like she was a rare jewel.

he is very opposed to listening to current music, and the only way you can even remotely convince him to give things a try is if they’re on vinyl. it’s a happy medium, because even though the tunes may be vastly different than back in the 40s, he still has the familiar comfort of a record player. it’s still an uphill battle to get him to listen to anything made after 1950, but persuasion comes a bit easier when you pull out a record from your personal collection.

*psst. i have a fic about this you can kinda read about this here*

introducing him to doordash was a mistake because this man racks up an insane charge on his credit card with takeout. he hates the unnecessary socialization aspect of ordering at a restaurant so you best believe those delivery apps are his best friend.

loves to bitch and complain about maintaining his bike when in reality he enjoys it far more than he’d ever care to admit. he likes being able to fix something; to put his hands to good use and they actually have a positive impact instead of negative. offers to help any of the old timers at the va with their bikes if they have any trouble.

you know how some people get seasonal depression during the winter months from the bleak weather? bucky has that times a million, because the bone chilling cold never fails to trigger his ptsd, and send him right back into reliving his hydra days of being frozen against his will. when you catch wind of it, you make it a note to try and spend as much time with him as you can; make sure he’s not alone or that he at least has something else to occupy his mind other than his traumatic memories as the winter soldier.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

old fashioned in the best way possible. while he strongly agrees with most of the 21st century’s stance on gender equality, he’ll never stop believing it’s a man’s job to take care of his woman. don’t get it twisted, he never tries to stifle your independence; it’s one of the many things he loves about you. but bucky can’t help but be a little “old-timey”; whether that be paying for your meals, or encouraging you to take a day off to relax while he’s working. it’s one of the only things he’s happy to have hardwired in his brain.

not entirely fond of pda but will ALWAYS have a hand on you when you’re out and about. usually a protective arm slung over your shoulder or a hand pressed into the small of your back. something that keeps you close to him for safety reasons, and also to let everyone else know that you’re taken.

doesn’t like to admit it but he can be a tad bit possessive. when you’ve spent nearly a century having zero control over your life and your choices, being territorial is inevitable. bucky will be damned if he loses the one good thing he’s ever had, especially to some punk who needs to learn how to back off. it’s a bit irritating at first, but once he lets his walls down and confesses the reason behind his actions, you let the man stake his claim every now and then. only because you know there’s no toxic intent behind it and because it’s lowkey a little hot.

#1 cheek kisser oh my GOD. this might not make sense to some people but if you’ve ever seen grey’s anatomy, derek has the most gentle way of kissing meredith on the cheek and that’s exactly how i picture buck.

the “i hate everyone but you” boyfriend (except he’s not really mean to anyone per se, he just does a complete 180 and turns into a big pile of mush when you’re around.)

king of random gestures. he loves making you happy and will take just about any opportunity he can to see you smile. you got a raise at your job? there’s a bouquet with a note waiting at your desk. sometimes you’ll come home to little “just because” presents on your dining room table because bucky can’t help but find little glimpses of you everywhere he goes. it’s his unspoken way of showing just how much he loves and appreciates you.

when he’s tired and grumpy he 100% does grabby hands (with a sweet lil pout might i add) to get you to come into bed and it’s the cutest thing ever.

sam wasn’t kidding when he said bucky’s got a staring problem, but it’s much more endearing in a romantic context. he finds you so beautiful, so mesmerizing; how is he not supposed to stare? and it won’t always be because he’s admiring you externally. sometimes he’ll be so caught up thinking about how lucky he is that you; sweet, kind, funny, and caring you, chose him as your person. he can’t help it if his eyes are glued to you while he’s pondering. everytime you catch him, he breaks out that shy little smile of his, and you find yourself falling in love all over again.

“you’re staring y’know,” you tease, feeling your face warm under his observation. he just shrugs, gaze unwavering as he saunters closer. “can’t help it.” he always take pride in watching you grow flustered as he closes the gap and presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

hot take: everytime i see “doll” used in fics for him i cringe real bad. i see bucky as more of a “honey” and “sweetheart” kind of guy. more honey than anything. in all honesty, i don’t see him breaking out pet names often, but if he’s going to, it’s one of those.

throws you over his shoulder like it’s absolutely nothing when you’re being difficult or arguing because he knows it’s a way to help playfully ease tension, as silly as it is. if he can get you laughing then you’re not mad, and if you’re not mad, he can reason with you a little better. it also leads to some very delicious sex afterwards when he conveniently drops you onto the mattress.

he’ll do the sweetest thing where if your hands are full this man will come up behind you and either put your hair in a braid or a ponytail (a pretty decent one might i add) if you need it away from your face. it’s always sealed with a kiss to the crown of your head and a squeeze of your hip, and never fails to give you butterflies.

SMUT:

i swivel back and forth between thinking that he’d be a bit hesitant or shaky with intimacy or that he knows how to please a woman in under five minutes. i honestly believe it’s somewhere in the middle; that while he does indeed have experience from his whore days back in the 40s, nowadays he’s not as willing to get to that point with someone unless there are deep feelings involved.

with that being said, when bucky decides to take that step in your relationship, boy does it take you by surprise. there’s a level of confidence that comes with being able to satisfy someone with such skill and ease, and he’s got it down pat. he’s even a little bit cocky with it, looking down at you smugly after your first orgasm, and it only amplifies your already flaming attraction to the super soldier.

nine times out of ten, sex is focused on your pleasure; he’s not cumming until you’ve cum at least once, and he’s not giving you a half assed release either. no, he’s working hard to make sure you see stars every damn time.

pussy eating king and i don’t think i need to elaborate on that.

is always down for a good dry hump. bucky loves kissing, kissing you more than anything, and one day he was particularly worked up, and it just…well it just happened. he was bright red once he realized what happened, but you quickly quelled any embarrassment he felt when you expressed that it was insanely hot. he didn’t even remotely understand why, until the next time it occurred. you were the one who came prematurely. and that, was when bucky understood the arousal behind it. now he’s got no qualms about having a good old fashioned makeout that may or may not end with a shared orgasm.

praise kink praise kink PRAISE KINK. it’s something he tries his hardest to hide but the boner he pops whenever you tell him he’s doing a good job in non intimate settings, and the increased speed of his thrusts when it happens during sex, are a dead giveaway. you tell bucky he’s being so good for you, making you feel so fucking good, and that man’s a goner. in his brain, it’s refreshing, exciting almost, to be told that he’s doing the right thing after a lifetime of being forced to make the wrong choices. what better place to hear that he’s right on track than when he’s with his lover?

hung. as. fuck.

i don’t foresee him being very vocal, but when he is, jesus take the wheel. somehow he always knows what to say and when to say it, no matter how few and far between the occasions may be.

“that feel good honey? yeah that’s right it fuckin’ does.” “always gonna take real good care of my girl.”

i don’t care if he’s got the serum stamina i 100% see this man conking out after sex. while he may be able to last a few rounds, the second you call it quits, the exhaustion overtakes him and he’s snoring into your pillow, but not before he pulls you close and peppers your face with kisses, muttering a final “i love you” before succumbing to slumber.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @dameronology @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

[astrologyvas]

1st house overlays/synastry

18+

please do not copy or repeat my work anywhere sun in the 1st house overlay: as we know, the sun illuminates anything it touches. naturally, in synastry, the sun will light up & shine onto the house's personality, appearance, and approach to life. this is a great placement to have for both romantic and platonic endeavors because you feel a mutual understanding; like you're on the same page in the book of life. the house will feel an abundance of validation and recognition from the sun. something about the sun just makes the house feel good, like the world still has something to offer. the sun is very fond of the way the house deals with situations thrown at them. "i love the way you handled that". there's a natural sense of comfort found in one other, it feels like you just get each other. the house may find a lot of peace and serenity within themselves when they find their way back to the sun. gives me the energy of the house thinking "i wish they were here" when they're at a shitty party. the house's general character and disposition is highly aligned with how the sun sees themselves, giving a sense of familiarity and closeness. complimenting each other back to back energy. this person would be a great partner to go out with, because they will always give you the acknowledgement and confidence you're seeking. "should i get this tattoo?" "you would look amazing with that tattoo".

moon in the 1st house overlay: there is no room for concealing emotions in this connection. both parties intuitively sense how the other is feeling, and can see their true motivations with ease. the house may feel almost unveiled by the moon, surprised by how quickly they are able to keep up with their emotions. this is the type of person you miss having as a friend when breaking it off with them, even if you were romantically involved. similar to the sun, the moon overlay shares a natural compatibility with one another. this synastry provokes emotional harmony and deep understanding. the feeling of telling them something you wouldn't ever open up about with anyone else. in this connection, the moon can serve as a tender reflection to show the house how to heal and nurture themselves. this overlay will make both not only physically attracted to each other, but also intensely emotionally. the moon finds the house's mind, body and soul irresistible, while the house desires the moon physically as a means of emotionally connecting. you are able to read each other exceptionally well, the energy of knowing how they feel just by the look on their face. the house will be openly receptive to the moon's way of reassurance. the house saying "i never thought about it that way" when the moon offers them consolation. both parties feel immense relief and comfort within each other. the person you look for in a crowd, to find they were looking for you too.

mercury in the 1st house overlay: this overlay is a like-minded and stimulating bond. having this synastry makes connecting on basic levels practically intrinsic. it feels like you get along right away, and often share similar outlooks on topics and values. the way mercury speaks and allocates knowledge is admirable to the house, like mercury is able to lay out information in a way that resonates with them. the house feels listened to by mercury, like they don't understate the house's intelligence. mercury can easily enthrall the house person. it's like mercury has an innate ability to make any conversation exciting and intriguing for the house. both may steal slang and phrases from each other, because they like the way they sound coming from the other person. initially, the house may struggle to keep up with mercury's fast-paced nature, or find them hard to fully grasp. mercury may feel like they're much more charismatic and magnetic when they're in the presence of the house. it's like a switch flipping for mercury, being able to reel the house in with their words. both parties banter and make fun of each other all the time. the two of them may be very attracted to each other's hands and arms, like you can't stop staring at their fingers when they're doing random tasks. mercury will be inclined to mentally pursue the house, they want to win them over with the charm they exude. no matter what, mercury feels an unquenchable curiosity for how the house operates and perceives information.

venus in the 1st house overlay: this is a connection that will cause intense physical attraction no matter what. in my personal experience, this has been an infatuation placement. the intangible pull these two feel for one another is powerful and consuming. venus finds the house very physically appealing, and the house basks in the planet's admiration. everything about the house, how they move, walk, and talk, venus can't get enough of. on a less superficial level, both parties will find the other very gratifying and enjoyable to be around. this connection will be fun under any circumstances, they can have a good time together even if they're on a sinking boat. venus will feel proud and confident in public with the house. "can you believe i pulled them?" energy. however, this placement can be bittersweet, in the sense of the house feeling like venus doesn't see their personality, only their looks. this can be difficult to overcome if there aren't substantial placements or aspects to show genuine admiration rather than shallow attraction. at its worst, this synastry can have the energy of shane & rachel from the white lotus. in this bond, both venus and the house share a similar taste for clothing, art and culture. the type of relationship where they like to dress each other up and pick out their clothes. the house will feel increasingly attractive and charming when in the vicinity of venus, and venus easily finds inspiration through the house. this is the person you have a hallway crush on at school.

mars in the 1st house overlay: mars falling in the 1st house is an enticing, aggressively playful, and physically erotic linkage. this synastry gives me the energy of not being able to contain your smile, even though you're arguing. these two grind each other's gears, in a way that you want to strangle them, then make out. mars is instantly on a pursuit for the house, like they see them as something to conquer. the house thrives on the ego boost from mars' chase, and may deprive mars of their presence to maintain control. initially, the mars is definitely somewhat at a whim of the house. however, the house is physically captivated by mars. mars appears as a rugged, lustful meal of sex appeal for the house. "i could eat that girl for lunch". it's like mars gives the house a taste for life and adrenaline. eye-fucking each other across the room vibes. this overlay may feel like a game at times, like a nonchalant war to see who breaks the tension first. the house's behavior riles mars up, intentionally or not. the energy of mars making fun of the house constantly, while the house is telling them to shut up. the first impressions of this person are very strong and memorable, you definitely won't forget them after originally meeting. this connection is inspiring for the house, as if mars pulls motivation out of them. very lively and dynamic relationship. laughing, tickle torture, and angry sex.

jupiter in the 1st house overlay: both the house and jupiter light up when they're around each other. jupiter, the planet of "so much abundance it's spilling off the plate," entering the 1st house is a great placement for self-esteem and confidence. both parties exhilarate and inspire each other plenty. jupiter is able to expand the worldview of the house, encouraging them to take risks and learn about life simply by having fun. jupiter's praise massively inflates the houses ego and self-worth. the house feels emotionally enriched by jupiter, like they can't help but feel fulfilled by them. the house may find that being around jupiter brings luck & opportunities for them, like things just fall into place. it makes me think of jupiter as a celebrity, and the house as their friend who gains recognition through jupiter's influence. jupiter feels very admired by the house in this connection. the house can learn a lot from this bond; it feels like jupiter is an infinite well of knowledge for the house to dive into. this synastry can almost be pedestal-like for jupiter, as if the house thinks they can do no wrong. be wary of rose-colored glasses and too much glorification. if the house is younger or less mature, jupiter can find their timidity annoying at times; offended that the house doesn't always trust jupiter's wisdom and direction. however, the mutual respect this connection brings is healing for the soul of both jupiter and the house. this synastry is groupie love, painting portraits of each other, and endless flattery.

saturn in the 1st house overlay: this synastry will force you to grow outside of yourself. if saturn does one thing in this connection, its holding the house accountable for their bullshit. both party's insecurities and weaknesses are obvious to each other, like they're sprawled out on the table. saturn often tries to clean out the house's faults to help them grow. this can be suffocating for the house at times, especially if they aren't looking for or open to change. the house can subconsciously try to look good and doll up if they know saturn is going to be there. the house craves saturn's validation, and can succumb to imbalanced power dynamics if not careful. if saturn is afflicted or unevolved, this connection can be critical and envious in nature. the house easily expresses themselves, which can inspire jealousy in saturn for something that doesn't come as instinctually to them. saturn can really pick at the house's insecurities if they want to, and vice versa. these two need to be mindful of their jabs, and careful of being too mean and berating. if this connection is stabilized and healthy, these two can be the ultimate power couple that comes off as sultry and mature to others. saturn builds the house's confidence from the ground up, like they're a project for saturn to work on and improve. saturn returns are a great time for these connections, because of the structure and discipline the saturn person offers in the chaos.

uranus in the 1st house overlay: in this connection, uranus loves to stir things up within the house and help them break free from the mundane comforts of life. initially, the house can find uranus to be totally weird, "out there," and sporadic. it's like the house is puzzled by how uranus acts. "i've never met anyone in my life like you before". uranus grows on the house very fast, and inevitably, they start thinking uranus is unique and ahead of their time. the house needs to be cautious of being too stubborn and apprehensive in order to keep uranus' flighty nature from kicking in. this connection can feel like you grow into the best and most authentic version of yourself through each other. uranus helps catapult the house into being who they truly are, leaving no room for self-doubt and embarrassment. the house may be fascinated with how uranus conducts and presents themselves. it gives me the energy of the house pulling a lot of fashion inspiration from uranus, because of how innovative and original the planet comes off to the house. the type of people you save to your pinterest board. this bond is electric and unpredictable, they love to keep each other on their toes. however, both may be resistant in relation to commitment because of the intense need for freedom uranian energy activates. these people provoke rebellion in yourself you've never felt before, like you want to see how far you can go before getting caught. uranus sees a plethora of untapped energy in the house, and thrives off inspiring them.

neptune in the 1st house overlay: the converging of this overlay is dreamy and illusive. the energy lingering around this connection is an intoxicating, love-at-first-sight experience. neptune is bewitched by the house's beauty. this synastry is rose-colored glasses on steroids. underneath the blissful admiration and mesmerized gazes, neptune's blurry nature makes what you think you know about your partner and what is actually real an uncomfortable awakening. the house can feel a frustrating pressure to live up to neptune's unrealistic fantasy that they have projected onto them. on one hand, the house wants to indulge and relish in neptune's perception in order to maintain a beautiful and magnetic aura. on the other hand, the house wants to be loved for their true, genuine self. both need to tread carefully in this connection, as the neptunian influence can replace typical bonding and becoming acquainted with predetermined conjectures and assumptions. the feeling of cutting them off, then realizing you didn't know anything about them. however, this synastry is a great opportunity for combined spiritual expansion and growth. sex is an unearthly union between them. deep understanding is mutual and almost psychic. "you make me feel like a person". they slip into your dreams, and know what you are going to say before you speak.

pluto in the 1st house overlay: pluto's presence in the 1st house can be an intensely metamorphic bond. this relationship goes beyond physical, into the deep intertwining of each other. the house portrays a fascinating allure towards pluto. pluto feels very tempted and inexplicably drawn towards the house, almost like the house is testing to see when pluto gives in. the house feels like pluto dominates their mind, which can quickly lead to them becoming smitten. pluto's persona intimidates and simultaneously attracts the house. in this connection, pluto will inevitably hold a lot of power, and can become jealous and overbearing regarding the house. this bond requires pluto to be mindful of arising insecurities revolving the house's outward charm to others. the house feels like pluto peers into their soul, seeing their vulnerabilities and weak spots. the house almost can't turn away, because of the intimacy they discover through this connection. this is the type of couple that turns heads when they walk in. if pluto is afflicted, this synastry is susceptible for forced change and control. pluto needs to be cautious of trying to mold the house into what they want, rather than what the house wants. by supporting the house, pluto can propel the house's spiritual and psychological broadening, and act as an important guide for the house to fulfill the immense potential that pluto sees in them.

lilith in the 1st house overlay: in this overlay, lilith finds the house to be the living embodiment of their raw and primal "dark" side. everything lilith hides away and rejects in themselves, they see in the house- physically and internally. in this relationship, identity is extremely affected on both sides. the house's friends & family may find them unrecognizable in the presence of lilith, because of the shadow they naturally evoke in the house. these two mirror each other's most repressed desires & taboos, easily exhilarating each other in the process. your heartbeat increasing uncontrollably when in their presence vibes. upon meeting, both parties feel irrevocably lustful and attracted to each other. there is a very intense bodily chemistry between the two, the type of energy that other's can feel because of the potency. in this connection, there is innate mutual respect, but heavily lilith for the house. lilith honors and admires the house's unapologetic nature regarding themselves; and the house thrives on lilith's passion and sexuality. in public, the house may feel like their impulses are drawn out- simply by lilith's company. although, however transforming this experience may be for both parties, this overlay can cause lilith to be obsessed with the house superficially- if the powerful lilith energy is not handled correctly. something about this couple could be scandalous or "unacceptable" to normal society, like age gaps, background differences, or social statuses. however, they are not concerned with backlash from others, and love uplifting each other to their deeper emotions and true colors.

[corsomondo]

Fuck it, first batch of OUAW moms, because I think about these women more than the actual cast.

More info under the cut.

First up is Genni Grimgrin, Grickos mama. She´s a carefree and kind soul, not unlike Gricko, but more of a pushover, often insecure and unsure of what she wants. She dedicated so much of herself to raising Gricko and mantaining a roof over their heads after her husband walked out on them, that once Gricko went too, she was left behind alone to ponder what she once even wanted out of life. They at least still regularly hear from eachother though and it seems as though shes picking up hobbies of her own.

Next we have Myriani, sometimes also called ´the strange one armed witch from around the corner´, Torbeks mother. A wild sorceress with distant elven heritage, she hails from the Feywild and posesses great magical abilities. She has lived in poverty for as long as she can remember. Never intending to have children, she conceived Torbek with the intent of selling him, resulting in a spiral of traumatic events that left her fleeing after a forced c-section, never learning of Torbeks fate. She wants nothing to do with the child she carried though and now lives hidden away from society.

Last up comes Farheen, Gideons mom. A great Djinn with immense powers, she has lived for eons and tricked many who tried to gain favour from her. When a measly farmer comes to her though, something goes differently. One can´t be quite sure what happened - if he promised her something she couldn´t refuse, if she warmed up and grew fond of the mortal man, but somehow they conceived a child together, which gideons dad was left to raise on his own as Farheen vanished as quickly as she had entered his life. Perhaps she couldn´t handle the attachment she had grown - or maybe she just found something new to entertain her immortal life with.

[moonstruckme]

https://www.tumblr.com/moonstruckme/781092034027159552/this-is-the-anon-who-just-sent-a-request-ab?source=share

oh the way you talk about spencer in this response is so lovely! would you ever consider spinning this into a small drabble - maybe a reader who often compliments spencer and him just not knowing what to do, if it takes your fancy! thank you! <3

Aw thanks angel! I really do think he deserves the world. Thank you for your request <3

cw: joking mention of cannibalism; mention of narcotics, addiction, withdrawal, torture, and death; vague discussion of muder victims' families/grief and very vague talk about a case the bau recently investigated

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Spencer thinks you might be trying to eat him. He’s met his fair share of cannibals—more than the average person, that’s for sure—but none so nice as you, so he thinks he’ll allow it. You’re being sweet about it, gentle little love bites in between thoughtful questions, leaving marks like gifts up and down the column of Spencer’s throat. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go. 

“How did you know about that?” you ask, nose tickling the underside of his jaw. 

“I recognized part of a quote the unsub left at the crime scene,” Spencer replies. Your lips brush his Adam’s apple, and for some reason the thought that you might feel his voice in your mouth makes pleasant chills skitter up his spine. “It was taken from Antigone, but not the most common version. There was an older translation which stopped printing in the early twentieth century, so for the most part the only copies that still read that way are in public libraries. We narrowed the libraries with those copies on record to ones in the unsub’s comfort zone, and that’s how we found his hometown.” 

Your sigh sounds almost reverent. “You’re so smart.” 

“It was a leap of faith.” 

“A good one. How’d you recognize the quote if it was different from the common translation?” 

“I’ve read both.” 

Spencer feels lucky, so lucky, to be graced with the feeling of your smile blooming against his skin. “Of course you have,” you say, utterly fond. You mouth gently over a constellation of marks you’ve just made. “You realize they would have never found this guy without you, right? You’re so smart, baby.” 

Spencer’s guts twist, a strangely pleasant feeling. He always thought that was weird—couples calling each other baby. Why would romantic partners want to address each other as if they were infants? It defied the tenets of mutual respect and responsibility that adult relationships were supposed to be built upon. It confuses Spencer to no end why he doesn’t mind at all hearing it from you. 

“It was the whole team,” he says. 

You make a sound half amused and half vexed, nipping almost rebukefully at the edge of his jaw. Spencer’s hand splays over your back in surprise. His first instinct to keep you close. “Especially you,” you say. 

“Why do you always want to hear about my work?” Spencer asks. 

It’s a genuine question. Spencer is aware that the details of his cases don’t make for great pillowtalk—even his own team prefers not to discuss them after they’re off the clock—but you ask questions like all you want in life is Spencer’s body beneath your hands and his voice in your ears, forever. 

It had been a longer case. Four days, three nights. No sooner had Spencer texted you that he was back D.C. than you were insisting he come meet you at your place, and no sooner had he gotten off the elevator than you were running out of your apartment to greet him, arms around his shoulders and body pressed to his and a warm, sweet kiss finding his lips. You love like no one else Spencer’s ever known. You’re unafraid of it, liberal with it, brazen in it. You always meet Spencer like a cup overflowing, without a care for whether he catches the spillover or not. He tries his best to. 

“Because I like hearing about your day,” you answer, mouth turned gentle again where you kiss your way up beside his ear. “I like catching up on everything that happened while I wasn’t with you. And I like hearing about you being a hero.” 

A little laugh stutters out of him. You pull away so he can see you, obviously displeased by this reaction. 

Spencer doesn’t think of himself as a hero. He knows some people do. It’s not the first time he’s been called one. Some people think of all law enforcement as heroes, and since Spencer falls into that category he’s one by default. But that’s not…him. That’s not the same as Spencer being a hero, it’s just an arbitrary title that came with his badge. 

“I don’t think I’m a hero,” he says. 

“You are to the people you help,” you reply obstinately. “You’re a hero to the victims’ families. You talk to them nicely instead of brushing them off, and you try to comfort them when they’re overwhelmed with questions and media coverage and trying to process their grief. That means a lot to people, Spencer. It’s important.” Your eyes are soldered to his. Firm, but not harsh. Earnest. “And you’re a hero to all the people who never had to hear about you, because you caught the bad guy before he could make victims out of them. You’re a hero to them. I just…after all you’ve been through, I don’t think you get the credit you deserve for still choosing to help others.” 

Spencer’s eyes burn. Almost nobody talks about that. What his job has cost him. Spencer has been tortured; he was addicted to narcotics; he went through withdrawal; he’s seen people he loves hurt and some killed right in front of him. And he goes on, because there’s nothing else he knows how to do. He knows that’s what the rest of his team is doing, too. But sometimes, when everyone acts like nothing happened, Spencer feels like no one remembers but him. 

You hold Spencer’s gaze. His hand presses into your back, keeping you close. Always wanting you close. 

“You don’t have to,” you murmur, “but you do. A lot of people would decide that they need to only look after themselves after all that, and that’s reasonable, I think, but you…” You get a heart-melting sort of look on your face and find him again, your lips pressing softly into his. “You keep looking after the whole world anyway. That’s a hero, baby. You’re thoughtful, and you’re so valuable to your team, and you have the—the kindest sense of justice of anyone. I think you’re just so used to it you forget it sometimes.” 

Spencer’s burning all over. It’s a happy sort of burning, a smile he has to fight as you peck the corner of his lips, his cheek, your own smile bright and unabashed. 

“You’re blushing,” you say. 

“I never had a chance.” A breathless sort of laugh escapes him. 

“A chance against what, handsome? The truth?” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re relentless?” 

“Yes.” You give him a devious look. It makes Spencer feel like you’re going to squish his face, probably because you often do. You don’t now, pinching his chin instead before bringing your lips to his. “It’s a compliment, you know.” 

You’re sweet, and brazen, and warm beneath his hands. Spencer’s chest burns with a soul-splitting fondness. He kisses you back and promises, “It is.”

[chocobje]

How I like to characterize Sprout is that he’s great talking with the ones he’s close with (Cosmo, Astro, etc.) But incredibly socially awkward with others. He comes off as brash, but he’s trying his best.

What guidelines do you try to follow when writing Sprout? I’m just curious.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to yap about one of my favourite characters hehe..

You asked for guidelines I gave you a character analysis instead.

(Don't mind the images I didn't want this post to look naked)

ALSO NOTE THAT AT THE END OF THE DAY THIS IS MERELY MY INTERPRETATION OF HIS CHARACTER. EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN!! Don't take my post as a mandatory guide to follow.

Let's talk about what's canon:

I like checking the Wikipedia for his dialogues every now and then to make sure he's not too out-of-character.

Sprout comes off as blunt, he does not sugarcoat his words when he has something to say.

Not even an excuse or a reason as to why he doesn't want to join Teagan for tea; It was straight up a "no" until Teagan told him Cosmo will join them too. (Also I want to point out he doesn't immediately say yes when he's told Cosmo will be there, so for all we know he'd still decline even if his best friend's joining Teagan).

Dandy's dialogue when you purchase Sprout. I think about it a lot. Out of all the character dialogues, the one with Astro is what I feel like is an example of his overprotectiveness coming across as "pushy".

He'd definitely be the type to scold his friends. Especially after Gardenview's shutdown with all the Twisteds wreaking havoc and whatnot. I don't think Sprout is fond of going on runs, but only does so he can watch over everyone and keep them safe. He makes sure everyone is focused and on high alert, he doesn't want anyone to be reckless.

He prioritizes safety over answers. His dialogue with Rodger shows that. Maybe he's also curious as to what has happened, because in Vee's dialogue he tried talking to Dandy only for Dandy to walk away. I assume Sprout just wanted to check up on him rather than knowing what's going on with Gardenview and the Twisteds.

Another thing I don't really see often is how Sprout is actually pretty forgetful and impulsive.

For a Toon who's constantly keeping watch on everyone he surely does not apply the same kind of attention to himself.

He talks before thinking about his words, but once he realized that he immediately apologized to Vee. I don't think he always notices when he comes across as rude though.

I actually think he's actually quite reckless when he bakes. I obviously can't show it in this post but if you look at that animation with Cosmo and Sprout baking they're not even measuring the ingredients. I mean what. 😭

The way he bakes feels so impulsive and it just looked like they were winging it. Somehow despite that their baked goods still end up great and that's honestly impressive.

Okay now for that dialogue between Bobette and Sprout, I was getting there-- I've never made a gingerbread house but from what I've seen from other people it requires a lot more patience and carefulness.

Sprout is neither.

According to him, his gingerbread house fell apart immediately and then he stopped trying afterwards. It's honestly funny.

I feel like this also shows through his stats. Both his extraction speed and skillcheck is 2 stars. His stamina and speed is way higher. He prefers running around, probably to make sure he can watch over everyone during their runs. That or because he has long legs.

Anyway to recap; Sprout in canon is blunt, pushy, overprotective, and impulsive. But he genuinely has good intentions and means well. He cares for his friends, which is why he scolds them because he wants to make sure they're safe.

Now for some headcanons:

Okay this is the part where I make stuff up. So it's just my take;

• He has ADHD.

I'M STARTING WITH THE NEURODIVERGENT HEADCANON.

This is not a unique headcanon. I've seen so many people who headcanons this too so it's relatively popular. Personally, I only see him with ADHD. (I'm projecting).

He's forgetful, impulsive, and quite socially awkward in a way aswell. He's easily distracted. He keeps forgetting about the oven. He's impulsive when baking. I'm a very impulsive and reckless person myself, I constantly make mistakes when I draw, yet somehow they end up okay 😭. When I'm not able to draw something right, I give up immediately. (I projected this onto the gingerbread house thing earlier).

• He comes across as intimidating.

You know in Kids' birthday parties when there's a mascot a lotta kids go run and hide? I based it off of that. I remember when I was like, 6 or 7, when a mascot came in I cried and hid under a table. They were tall.. <\3

I feel like there was a concerning number of kids who were actually afraid of him, despite how friendly he appears both in person and in the show. Maybe it's the RBF when he's not smiling..

I also like to think he's taller than some of the kids who comes to Gardenview which plays a factor to the whole "intimidating" thing. The way Sprout deals with this is giving the kids cupcakes or other sweets. Once the kids actually talk to him they're immediately comfortable.

• He was one of the very first to become "Twisted".

I don't have a concrete idea on how the story of the game goes, but I always imagine the Mains being the first victims. Sprout is a healer and he keeps an eye on everyone, so he had to go first.

–

Okay, I think that's all now. If you read all of that wow thanks, this took me hours to write 😭. I love overanalysing characters.

[gtgbabie0]

{A soft, quiet moment away from camp with Queen!Natalie}

My poor girl literally can not catch a break </3

Natalie needed to get away from all this ‘Queen’ bullshit— from Shauna’s bullshit and Mari’s bullshit and whatever bitchiness was going on between them. Just everything and everyone, for a single moment so she could breathe without someone bitching and moaning at her— honestly this whole leader thing was so much more harder than she had anticipated.

It felt great at first, being anointed by the fireplace in the dead of winter—all the attention the group gave her, the way people looked at her with a glint in their eyes, warmed her and gave her purpose. Now it was spring, and she was just exhausted.

“We’re meant to be relaxing, Nat.” The sound of your gentle voice snaps her out of her thoughts, breaking through all the troubles that have clouded her mind.

She hums in acknowledgment, leaning back against your front with a small grumble— something incoherent. You had snuck her out of camp a while ago, guiding her through the forest and into a clearing— a small creek that you had found, hidden behind trees and foliage, the water crystal clear and twinkling beneath the afternoon sun.

It was a nice getaway from all the stress. The water had been cool against her flushed skin, almost relaxing in a way as the pair of you splashed around— a mini water fight that had ended in you both being stripped down to your underwear, your clothes now hung up over a tree branch to dry in the sun as the pair of you now relax by the water, bathing in the warm rays that peak between the trees.

You drop a kiss to her freckled shoulder, arms curling around her waist from behind as if to keep her from slipping too far away in her own mind— “I am relaxing. So relaxed.” Sarcastic as ever.

"Mhm, you're all tense still." A smirk stretches across Natalie’s lips at the feeling of you nuzzling against her shoulder, trailing kisses along the side of her neck— “Is there anything I can do to help, my Queen?” You giggle against her warm skin as she all but groans, slumping against you dramatically.

“Don’t you fuckin’ start with that too.” She mumbles through a small scoff, trying to hide her amusement behind slightly narrowed eyes as she turns her head to catch your gaze— a playful frown scrunching up over her face.

“Don’t pretend like it doesn’t secretly turn you on.” She shoves your shoulder for that, sticking her middle finger up at you with a grumbled “Asshole,” beneath her breath as you lay back against the blanket you had laid across the grass in a fit of giggles.

Natalie swears you’re the prettiest damn girl she’s ever seen, especially like this. Careless and free, stripped down to a worn out tank top and your underwear— the colour faded from the fabric. She absolutely whipped for you. Admiring how the orangey afternoon sunlight dusts across your face, painting you in some kind of heavenly light. You were an angel, her angel, she thinks.

Yeah, it’s a mushy thought, but she doesn’t find herself wanting to shake it off or push it down— you had managed to soften her sharp edges and for once she wasn't afraid to let someone in, to let you in. It felt good, like really good.

Natalie’s gaze softens into something tender, watching as your laughter ebbs away gently only to be replaced by the surrounding sounds of nature— rustling leaves and trickling water. “You’re so pretty.” Her words sudden yet gentle, a meaningful whisper, carried out by the breeze.

You push yourself up with a small smirk, brow twitching slightly in fond surprise— it's not often you can get her like this, so you relish in it. “Mm, no you are.” you throw her compliment back at her with a soft kiss to her cheek, “You’re the prettiest.”

And she really is. The sun has left the faintest smattering of freckles across her face and shoulders— her chest. Her roots now growing through, peroxide blonde clinging to natural brown as she slowly sheds that grungy, angsty persona into something… dare you say a little softer perhaps mature?

Natalie rolls her eyes, “Yeah, yeah— whatever you say.” She acts like it’s not a big deal, that your compliments didn’t make her heart jump several beats and her stomach feel all fluttery— but you could tell, just from the way her eyes glint with love, shining in a way that takes your breath away.

Silence settles between you both comfortably as Natalie drops her head against your shoulder, face tucked into the crook of your neck— you could practically hear her the cogs in her mind wiring up a storm of concerns once more.

“Stop thinking.” You sigh, brushing your fingertips through the soft blades of grass— plucking up two daisies and idly making rings out of them, something that Akilah had taught you one night.

“I can’t.” The words are huffed, muffed frustratedly against your neck— then her tone drops, barely whisper “What am I gonna do?” It makes your chest feel uncomfortably tight, an ache building up inside you.

“Whatever you feel is right, Nat.”

“Won’t matter if they find out. You've heard the way they all speak” Right. Coach.

With a small sigh you turn to sit in front of her, hands gently cupping her face— her eyes flickering up to yours almost pleadingly and you wonder how they’d all react if they knew their ‘Queen’ looked at you like you were some sort of deity.

“No matter what happens I’m right behind you, always.” That seems to be enough for right now because she’s nodding against your palms, with a soft— “Yeah, you promise?”

Natalie watches you as you settle down beside her with a nod, fingers going back to work on the flower rings that quickly catch her attention— her brow twitches questioningly but before she can ask you, you're slipping the daisy over her ring finger with a soft smile. “I promise.” Eyes fixed onto hers.

It shouldn’t make her heart jump as violently as it does— but god it does, the reverence in your tone, the way you look at her so unwavering in your words. She lets herself believe you.

“Okay. I’ve got you too.” The words are whispered just as sternly as yours, her fingers fumbling with one of the dainty flowers you've made rings from— and ever so gently she slides it over your finger and you both burst into breathless giggles, leaning into one another suddenly overcome by a wave of giddiness that wipes all worry from your minds, it felt as if nothing existed outside of this tiny little bubble you've built around yourselves.

It’s sappy, unbelievably so and she lets herself drown in it— drown in you as you wrap your arms around her shoulders in a tight hug. “You know behind every great ruler is an even greater woman…”

“Don’t push it.” Her finger pokes your side before her hands drop to your hips, stealing a kiss from your lips— then another and another until you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck. Maybe, just maybe she’ll be fine as long as she’s got you.

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: A lover's embrace is often all the comfort one needs. Your companions show you, through their touch, just how much your bond means to them.

[Lae'zel x Reader/Tav, Gale x Tav, Astarion x Tav cuddle headcanons]

Genres: Romance, fluff, humour, angst.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(This turned out a lot more romantic and sentimental than the humour/fluff I'd planned. Either way, hope you enjoy it, lovely readers!)

Lae'zel: Dodge and Feint

In all fairness, you hadn't expected her to be party to softer forms of affection.

When all of this had started between you, it had been the result of a rather bold proposition after a difficult battle. Lae'zel had warmed to your fighting prowess, and your first time with her had reflected all of that desire, and more.

What you hadn't expected was the depth of respect, passion and acceptance you'd received from her, when you considered that in her eyes, you'd started off as a specimen of a weaker species with a nose that was too long for comfort.

If you'd been in her shoes, you're not sure you'd find yourself attractive.

Those thoughts aside, you'd found yourself wondering at times, whether you'd be able to persuade her to appreciate other things too. The softer side of affection, touch specifically, had always appealed to you.

You hadn't dared suggest as such to her yet, but you'd be lying if you hadn't fantasized about her strong arms holding you close, the tickle of her braids over your collarbone, the steady beat of her heart against your back.

But how to proceed?

Lae'zel was a tough nut to crack. You'd considered the direct approach; simply asking her outright for a cuddle. The images your mind threw up as a response made you choke on your tea. She might just coldly turn you down, and somehow, that seemed a lot worse than being punched in the face.

And yet ...

On a particular afternoon, after trekking through the mountains, your exhausted band had camped out on a rocky outcrop. The sky was an embroidered masterpiece above you, adorned with pearly stars stitched by some heavenly hand.

Blanket draped across your shoulders, you'd brought a steaming drink of mulled wine to Lae'zel, courtesy of Gale's stash of recipes. She'd glanced up at you silently, accepting the vessel.

You seated yourself beside her, before inching closer. She showed no sign of feeling the cold.

"The stars look beautiful tonight."

She turned her gaze upward, fingers curling tightly around the cup in her hand.

"I've seen the stars, up close. Most are chunks of cold, empty rock, without even the memory of a single soul's tread. They are beautiful, I suppose, in their loneliness."

Something in her description caught at your mind, causing you to glance sideways at her.

"And once you leave your tread on them? Do you think they retain some fondness of that moment?"

"Stars have no soul."

"And if they did?"

She snorted and took a sip of her drink.

"You ask the oddest questions."

"You seem to like them. Most of the time."

You offer a cheeky grin in response to her sharp look.

"You assume a great deal."

Emboldened, you shift up until your side is pressed to hers, before passing the blanket across her shoulders and tugging the end snugly back towards you, effectively wrapping you both within the soft, comfortable folds.

She didn't move, but raised her eyebrow at your actions.

"I don't recall saying that I was cold."

"Maybe you're not. Maybe you are. It's my job as your chosen partner to wrap you in a blanket either way."

"Hmm. More presumption. What do you gain from this? You'd feel warmer if the blanket was wrapped more firmly around just you."

Your voice grew softer, almost hoping she'd let the comment pass without acknowledgement.

"I like this better."

"This?"

"Being close to you."

She remained still and silent for the rest of the time, but you noted that she'd made no move to remove herself from your proximity.

In the course of your short relationship with her, you'd found that Lae'zel was highly observant, mentally recording a lot of the things you said and did, only to produce that knowledge later in the most unexpected ways.

A few days after that night camped on the mountain, she'd suggested a sparring session, with no weapons involved. You'd eagerly agreed, deciding that your hand-to-hand combat skills needed some practice.

Not that you'd appreciate being flung down into the dirt multiple times, but it was certainly better than being caught lacking in a decisive battle.

And Lae'zel had proven herself an efficient, if somewhat ruthless teacher.

You readied yourself for the session, stretching your muscles and hopping back and forth, limbering up. Lae'zel took a sip of water from her canteen before closing the top, joining you in the open glade near camp that you'd chosen for this session.

She didn't give you the grace of an easy start, as you knew she wouldn't. Her hands darted out, landing a series of sharp jabs against your ribs, so rapid that you didn't feel anything at first, but then the impact kicked in and you winced.

You took courage from the fact that just a month ago, you'd probably have been doubled over in pain. Lae'zel had certainly conditioned you well.

Regaining your balance, you swept your leg out, watching  as she nimbly leapt back. You hadn't managed to knock her over, but you'd put some space between you.

Circling, watching her follow your motions, you felt a shiver pass down your spine. Lae'zel's demeanour shifted, very subtly, during sparring. You gained a taste of the way she faced her opponents in battle, focused, predatory, a born hunter stalking its intended prey.

You feinted high and swung a blow that actually landed on her side. You felt the muscles of her abdomen clench, absorbing the impact before her hand closed around your wrist and she tugged sharply. The momentum behind your swing had you catapulting forward, off balance, right into her powerful hold.

Your feet left the ground, and you heard her grunt as you turned the tables, throwing your full weight back. She went down, but her hold on you never slackened.

Breathing hard, you squirmed in her grasp, but she stayed firm, one arm looped around your torso, keeping your arms trapped at your sides.

You huffed out a frustrated breath. You'd really thought you'd had her for a moment. More fool you.

Tilting your head back against her shoulder, you gave your concession.

"All right, this round goes to you."

"Are you surprised? You shouldn't be. It'll take much more training before you can best me."

"Thought I did get lucky for a moment there."

She remained silent, but you noticed that she hadn't released you from her hold.

"Lae'zel?"

"What is it?"

"Are we ... continuing?"

She didn't answer, but her grip around you loosened enough for you to free your arms. You turned slightly.

"Is everything all right?"

"Of course it is," she snapped.

"Then why have you stopped?"

Her put-upon sigh blew against the shell of your ear, warm, almost gentle.

"I thought you liked this."

"What? Being wrestled to the ground?"

"No, you imbecile! Being close to me."

The pieces suddenly slotted together in your head with stunning clarity.

She'd wanted to offer you physical proximity, and offering a sparring match in a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of others, had obviously been the logical conclusion in her mind.

You almost laughed, but then decided that this would be a very, very bad idea.

Instead, you sighed happily and leaned back in her embrace, head tucking beneath her chin.

"You thought right. I do like this."

"Hmph. So easily pleased. You should be glad I volunteered this training session. Otherwise, you'd just have to go without."

Her triumphant (rather smug) tone sparked a surge of something unbearable in your chest, a yearning you hadn't know you were capable of feeling.

How did she manage to do this to you?

Even with her clumsy, abrupt manner, her biting comments, her quick and sharp reprimands, her stand-offish nature, Lae'zel had somehow rendered herself so vulnerable to you.

You could feel it in the way she pressed her cheek to the top of your head, you could see it in the way she trusted you to lead her. You could sense it in the way her words reached you, always sincere and spoken from the purest of fires that burned within her, a warrior's constant in your cosmic equation.

And when her lips find yours, the latticework of the trees above you seem to open up further, exposing the arch of the sky, and your fingers find their way into her hair, sinking into the sweet hope of traversing that endless plane alongside her someday.

Gale: Materials and Method

"So, I've heard ... "

You downed the last of the healing potion and looked quizzically across at Gale.

He cleared his throat and stirred the pot with a little more vigour.

"I've heard ... no, read, a treatise on the healing power of touch. You know. To make you feel better after ... large and potentially traumatic events."

You grinned at him.

"And where did you find this treatise? Sharess's Caress?"

He shot you a reprimanding look, betrayed a little by the way his mouth twitched.

"Hmm. I don't think we're talking about the same written work on the subject of intimacy, although, dare I say, both have their merit."

You propped your chin on your hands, your breathing now a little easier as you felt the potion go to work on the bruising around your ribs.

The bandits you'd encountered in the hills had gone down fairly quickly to your party's combined attacks, but not before getting in a few blows of their own.

"So tell me, what does your treatise say?"

"Well, it speaks of the psychological benefits, all well researched, mind you, of maintaining skin to skin contact with someone you are already ... attached to. Someone you care for."

"And how are any of these things measurable?"

"Ah, through the release of certain hormones in the blood. Those can be measured."

"Is it really as simple as that?"

He was quiet for a time, gaze distracted.

"There was a time when I thought it was. That perhaps, love could be quantified. That its increments over time could be precisely measured by how much ... one gave. And how much was taken."

"And now?" you prompted him, gently.

"Now, I don't prescribe to the same school of thought."

He turned to you and smiled, that familiar warmth you'd come to associate with Gale's regard passing pleasantly over your features, as if touched by some invisible sun.

"Now ... well, I don't know what I believe. Let's just say that I'm ... open to conducting more research."

"Are you now?"

"Indeed, I am. A fortunate position to be in, don't you think?"

You laughed and watched him stir the stew for a while. You were fully aware of what he had done, setting out the offer for you, waiting patiently for you to turn it over in your hands, consider it from all angles, and decide if you'd give your consent or not.

In actuality, your mind had been made up some time ago.

"So, is there any way I could help you with your research?"

"There most certainly is."

His answer came a little too quickly, and your expression grew sly as you noticed the embarrassed flush steal up his neck.

"All right. Humour me, Master Gale. Where does all research begin?"

"With a question."

"How do I know if I'm asking the right one?"

"You have to refine it. Make it as concise as possible."

"Hmm. Here goes then. Gale, would you like to position your arms around me?"

"That's the wrong question. The real one should be- "

"About the benefits of embracing someone. I'm aware."

"Then - "

"Let's cut to the chase and begin experimenting?"

He uttered a soft laugh, one infinitely full of affection. Rising, he approached you with playful deliberation, pausing before you, one hand on his chin.

"I'm simply taking a moment to check whether you're ... receptive to my experiment."

You drew your knees together and raised your voice in a piteous falsetto.

"Oh, what foul Gods have sent this mountain breeze my way? I am so very cold. If only a warm and toasty man, of the scholarly persuasion, could come by and warm me."

Gale checked off a point on one of his fingers.

"It seems my services are required after all."

He resumed his steady pacing around your form.

"Next, I should observe the reactions before and after an embrace. Does it really have the intended effect, or can my subject survive quite well without it?"

You collapsed sideways across the log you were seated on.

"Oh, I am about to perish from this cold and loneliness. If only there was a man with a handsome beard, smelling slightly of stew, to come by and deliver sustenance to my soul."

"Ah. It seems they are both cold and lonely. A frightful combination, to be sure."

Gale was now right behind you, both hands coming to rest on your shoulders. His touch was light, but the weight of intention laid heavy across you both. He began to move his palms in soft soothing circles, beginning at the tops of your arms and slowly traversing the slope of your shoulders.

"Now, how does this feel?"

"Quite marvelous. I feel like I may be cured in no time."

"Never rush to conclusions like that. A true scholar would question the validity of what they feel in this moment. Does it really make you feel good?"

"Are you ... fishing for compliments under the guise of scientific inquiry?"

"I am merely following the method. Wiser men than me speak for its merits, you know."

"Well, wiser men seem to be beating about the bush an awful lot. It feels wonderful, Gale."

There was a pause before you felt him shift, the material of his trousers scraping across the log as he stepped over it and positioned himself in front of you. You took his outstretched hand, standing to face him.

"Looks like the spirit of experimentation is growing bolder."

He shook his head, shoulders heaving with silent laughter.

"You've played along wonderfully so far. Don't stop now."

"Oh, fine then."

You straightened and met his eye, shivering slightly in anticipation at what you'd seemingly kindled there.

"What next?"

"Put your hands on my shoulders."

When you complied, he stepped into your space, breath fanning along the flesh of your ear.

"And now for the final determination. The proving of my hypothesis, so to speak."

His arms slid around your waist, gentle, enclosing you in everything he was, his hold always considerate, but firm. You felt the light scratch of his beard against the side of your neck and inhaled sharply.

"And what is your hypothesis?"

"That this is most beneficial indeed."

"I have to agree."

You felt the curve of his lips against your skin, the tightening of his arms as he drew you close, enveloping you in his scent. Your hand found the nape of his neck, running up into the flow of his hair.

He inhaled deeply, taking you in, before he froze, gripping your waist and moving you a little further away. In the dim light, his eyes gleamed with amusement and chagrin.

"I do believe, in my desire to test this hypothesis, that I've managed to burn the stew."

Astarion: Practice makes perfect

He was staring again.

You could feel his gaze tracing along your skin, like molten threads of metal through a sword, fresh from the forge.

Making the journey from the Shadow-cursed lands (now no longer under the hold of Ketheric Thorm), had been slow at first. Your party was exhausted after the battle at Moonrise Towers.

Even though you had taken respite afterwards, the imperative nature of your mission to overthrow the Absolute was pressing. You compromised by setting a steady pace towards  Baldur's Gate, frequently stopping to rest and re-supply.

As occupied as your thoughts were with what awaited you in the city, there was another puzzle to be unraveled.

Astarion's recent behaviour.

Since your encounter with the drow blood merchant, Araj Oblodra, there had been some revelations in your relationship with him. Astarion had come clean about his original 'plan' to seduce you, and his own budding feelings that had put an end to it.

As much as you were still processing what it all meant, you couldn't help the spark of hope that

flared every time you looked at him and saw the genuine softness and affection, the well-concealed pleasure he took in your company.

And now, there was something new. This ... watchfulness, for want of a better term.

You couldn't make head or tail of it.

He seemed to be waiting to ambush you at every dark corner in camp, his flowery drawl snaring you every time you passed his tent. He sat with you while you ate, even considering his distaste for regular food. Sometimes, you'd check your clothing and find new embroidery or repairs, probably done in the dead of night.

All this was well and good. You could accept the attention, and lavish him with your own, but he seemed to be ... expecting something from you, and you couldn't possibly make out what it was.

It was obvious that he was growing rather impatient with your lack of discernment. Once, you'd given him a peck on the cheek to say good night and you'd spied the flash of hurt that had lingered in his eyes for a moment, covered up instantly with charm and wit.

It was bothering you to no end.

What did he want from you? Why wouldn't he come out and say it?

On one particular night, the thoughts he'd inspired left you tossing and turning, sleep evading you. Rolling onto your back, you stared at the roof of your tent.

Right. No answers there.

It was then that you heard it; a soft tread just outside. Raising your head slightly, you listened carefully, one hand inching beneath your bedroll for the knife you kept handy there.

The footsteps stopped, then started up again. You realised that the person was pacing. Up and down. To and fro. It went on for some time, with pauses in between.

You put the knife back.

No assassin would be this indecisive. And besides, you recognised that tread. Your senses had all but made it highly familiar.

You called softly into the night.

"Astarion?"

The footfalls stopped abruptly.

"I know you're there. Come inside. It's so cold out."

There was a pause before he pushed the flap aside and crawled in. The dim glow from the campfire filtered into your tent, outlining him in flickering shadow.

He sat cross-legged, silent.

You waited for a few seconds before inching across to him, wrapping your blanket around his shoulders and retreating.

He uttered a small sound of frustration.

"Why do you do that? I'm not made of glass you know."

You frowned. He sounded ... tired. A trifle bitter.

"Do what?"

"You know what."

"Astarion."

You took his hand, feeling his strong, cool fingers clench convulsively around yours.

"You need to speak to me. I really have no idea what's been troubling you."

"You ... it's ... why do you avoid me? What have I done wrong? Are you ... regretting being together with me? Is it not enough? I knew it couldn't be enough. Why else would you ... "

You held up a hand to stem the confused flow of words, bewildered.

"What are you talking about? I've never once avoided you. I love being with you. You know that."

He was watching you again, eyes flicking between yours, as if to catch some hint of insincerity.

He found none, of course. You felt some of the tension leave his body, but your question still remained unanswered.

"You need to tell me. Why do you think I avoid you? And when?"

He shifted, dropping your hand and taking a deep, bracing breath.

"Do you remember the night we ... spoke. After meeting with that drow merchant?"

"Of course."

"Well ... why haven't you come to my tent since then?"

He waved his hands wildly, as if to grasp answers from the air.

"I'm pretty certain that I don't smell bad, for an undead being. And I'm beautiful, that much goes without saying. My hair hasn't been at its best in recent times, I admit, but plant extracts are rather hard to come by in the Shadowlands, darling, and I - "

You snorted incredulously.

"Are you serious? You really think any of that would put me off you?"

"Well, obviously something has. You don't ... you haven't ... "

He cut off, head lowered, hands braced on his knees. This was evidently difficult for him.

Reaching out, you gently stroked his cheek, a flutter of something vital and warm surfacing as he leaned into your touch.

This foolish, foolish man.

But you had to choose your words carefully.

"Astarion, I haven't been avoiding you at all. I was just ... giving you space. You trusted me with the knowledge of everything you've had to endure. I wanted to let you ... come to me on your own terms and ... oh."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you realised what you'd done. Falling silent, you lowered your gaze.

He folded his arms.

"Oh indeed. You're truly dense at times, my sweet."

"But I - "

His finger laid itself across your lips as you opened your mouth to protest.

"Gods, you're the most lovely, silly, frustrating ... idiot I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

You scowled under his silencing finger, but the relief in his voice was so palpable that you couldn't help the smile that bloomed in quick succession. You reached up and caught his wrist, lowering his hand.

"So, you want me to ... not be quite as considerate of your space as I've been."

"One would think you'd get the idea, considering how I've been invading yours. Not your brightest moment, my love."

A laugh bubbled up in your throat.

"So that's what all of that was about."

"I'm so glad you noticed my bounteous desire for your company."

"All right then. Now that we've cleared the air ... what would you like me to do?"

He scoffed, some of his old panache returning. A welcome change.

"Honestly. Can you not remember a thing about that night?"

"Wait, what?"

"The thing you did."

"Eh?"

"Gods below, I've developed feelings for a deep rothé."

"Can you just tell me - "

"This," he hissed, before leaning forward and wrapping both arms around you. He released you almost instantly, observing your face with attentiveness. The firelight turned the ruby hue of his eyes to something darker, more desperate. In spite of his light-hearted banter, he was -

"Astarion."

Your voice was so full of tenderness, so soft, that you saw him flinch from it.

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"Well, it's not exactly - "

It was your turn to silence him, finger lightly grazing his lips. He took a shaky breath.

"What the fuck is this? Why is this so damnably difficult?"

"It's not. We just ... both of us just ... need to learn how to speak about things, I suppose. That's ... simple. Once you get the hang of it."

His voice had lowered to a whisper.

"It is?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure myself. But we'll start with this."

You held out your arms and he approached eagerly, slinging the blanket over both your shoulders. His unusually graceless movement pushed you off balance, and you tumbled back with a huff of amusement, tugging him down with you, his head knocking against the bridge of your nose.

"Ouch!"

"Lae'zel was right. Your nose is too big."

"What are your elbows made of? Gondian steel?"

"All the better to prod you with, my dear."

After a series of scuffling movements, you finally found yourself lying on your back, his head propped on your shoulder, just beneath your chin. Soft curls brushed your cheek as he shifted, his arm curling possessively around your body, leg sliding over yours.

His scent was familiar, breathtakingly so. It pervaded your senses, the sharp stringency of the soap at the Last Light Inn, the faint citrus essence of his hair cream, the smokiness of burning wood from where he'd sat too close to the fire.

You hadn't realised, until that moment, how you'd needed to hold him like this once again, the immediacy of his presence a comfort beyond words.

He raised his head slightly, mouth now on level with your ear. You felt the shift of muscle beneath his shirt, the slide of his hand against your ribs.

"Can we fall asleep like this? Every night?"

"We can."

"You ... really don't mind?"

You turned over, now facing him, your breath dancing across his lips.

In the dark, you couldn't see much detail, but you knew the lie of his features as well as the most well-traced map. Reaching up, you passed fingers lightly over his eyes, mouth, ears, nose, chin.

Your devstatingly handsome rogue. Your shadow dancer. Yours, in all his vulnerability, within these fragile canvas walls.

"I want to wake up to your face. On every morning until ... "

His lips silenced you, opening in unspoken passion against yours. When he parted from you, it was no loss. His entire body was pressed against the length of yours, and your arms had found their way around him again, holding him the way he had desired beyond anything.

"Don't. Don't say more. Just fall asleep with me."

"Just like that?"

You felt him smile into your hair.

"I suppose it''s simple, darling. Once you get the hang of it."

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 1000 FOLLOWER MILESTONE PT. 1

synopsis: zoro's inexplicable feelings for the crew's newest member leave him a flushed and confused mess. he can't eat, he can't sleep, he can't think... and he can't possibly talk to her.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, (nsfw in pt. 2), zoro is emotionally constipated, reader's a sweetheart, girl talk, zoro is so adorable i cant, i love making him awkward

a/n: tried to be a bit more prosey lol <3 literally why i had to split this it would've been entirely too long (pt 2 is gonna be even longer tho sigh)

Zoro's appearance was deceiving.

He was an imposing figure among his fellow members of the Strawhat crew; people would often think twice before approaching him.

Some would claim it was all about his look: his glare—a look that would feel like a stab the moment it settled upon oneself.

Immobilizing, evoking uneasiness, as if in them there was an unforgiving tint that would petrify.

Moreover, the scars littered all over him—one of them rested across his chest, elongated along his clavicle and stretched well past his hip—were not only marks of his chivalry, his bravery, but also marks that warned others about his fierceness, about his staggering strength.

He was threatening to be around, to say the least.

Still, as rough, relentless, and brutal as he could be, even the roughest stones can be smoothed over time.

Yet achieving such a thing is no easy task at all.

Not for everyone, at least.

"You're in love, Zoro." Robin, the ship's archaeologist, had been the first one to point it out to him, the expression of the swordsman contorting into one of surprise.

It did not dawn on him until that very same moment.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He grumbled, turning away from her gaze, whose smile did not waver in the slightest—but instead it deepened.

Frustration took over Zoro as he bit the inside of his cheek—he could not handle himself.

Being in love... it was rare, at some point even displeasing.

This, the fact that he could not deny it, that he could not help the warmth taking over his cheeks, that his heart would do nothing but race in his chest at the sole mention of you.

He blamed himself for acting so helpless, for turning ever-so hazy at the thought of you.

But he couldn't help it, to grow fond of that very same softness.

It was corny, yes, but what could he do against it?

That day, he struggled to sleep throughout the whole night, restlessly gazing up at the ceiling, in consideration to his feelings and the great dilemma of what to do with them.

A thirst that began to become so eloquent that he could no longer turn a blind eye on it—that he could to turn a blind eye on you anymore; because the once glances turned into gazing with undeniable longing and admiration.

Soon enough, you would reign over every minute of his life—in thoughts, in feelings that would dwell in his mind.

Love sickness, one could conclude, but also the impotence of not being able to do anything beyond that because, even if he accepted his feelings for you, the uncertainty of you doing the same was offsetting to him.

Maybe you'd never look at him that way, maybe it is just a silly crush weakening a heart that should only beat with the motivation to fight and protect, and nothing more than that.

But then, again, what is the motivation for protection?

To protect there needed to be a resolution, and the resolution to protect almost always derives from love.

Love is inevitable, love is everywhere.

Love can come in all shapes and colors.

But then again, this is the first time it had ever come to him in this way.

His resolution to fight, once for his dream, once for his friends, soon enough began to include you into the same picture, and even if not at a higher priority, it became his motivation during training, during meditation.

And with that meditation, with deep introspection, he began to reason; if there was a time you would open your heart up, would it be for him?

Would there be any chance?

But then, why would you?

What makes him worthy of you, after all?

But even if he talked himself into you never looking at him, he could never fight the fact that he was so head over heels over you—the feeling did not diminish at the end, but doubled.

And so Zoro began to die of thirst, and the drought could only intensify over the time and, the more he thought about your beauty, your smile, your presence, your voice, he could not help himself—it felt as if his hands were tied, and it was inevitable for him to not just surrender to the feeling.

Nami thought all of this was cute to see from the outside—Zoro was just helpless when it came to women: Every time he would be approached, he just couldn't bear the fluster invading every single corner of his body.

In fact, she, as your longest and closest friend on the crew, was the first to notice and tell you.

Fed by the way he behaved towards you, she couldn't stop herself from wanting to give him a push.

In her morning stroll across the Sunny, she spotted you sunbathing on the deck, and decided to join you.

"What's with that smile?" You knew the redhead well enough to know that with that smile came mischief.

"Noooothing..."

But you knew it was written all over her features, and so you raised an eyebrow at her.

She was up to something.

"I don't believe youuuuu..." You sang, mimicking her, which made your friend burst into a giggle.

And that was the moment she told you.

The Strawhat's swordsman was in love with you.

To be honest, Zoro was no more than fellow crewmate to you, even if you deemed him handsome in all his roughness, yet never did feed that thought beyond fantasy.

When Nami told you, she had pointed out a truth that, up to now, had remained unbeknownst to you, mistaking his indeed love for you by shyness of being around women.

"How do you know all of this?" You asked her, heart shaken up at such an unexpected confession.

But Nami just pressed a finger to her lips, giggling and shaking her head.

There was something more important than thinking about the way she found out.

There was a fiber in you that had been moved, something that tingled within you with this information.

You thought about him, but now his image held something more than just being the ship's swordsman.

There was something different now in your perception of him, something that led a wave of fuzziness to bubble in your gut.

"Y-you thinks he likes... me?" You pointed to yourself, blinking in disbelief.

Her eyes sparkled with sincerity—not to say that Nami was a dishonest person.

You knew she would never lie, even more now that she indeed found you two compatible.

"It's obvious!" she retorted, giggling, "Don't you see how he is around you?"

"He's always like that with women. He's... awkward?" you asked, still surprised.

"It's different," she emphasized; she knew for a fact—Robin, another one who rooted for you and the swordsman—that he would ask about you, or do things so his care for you would be implied.

Robin, in all her kindness, saw the goodness in Zoro, and knew that he could be the right one.

Nami agreed with her, claiming that your warmth and your sweetness was one to get easily attached to.

"Besides, he's aaalways looking at you," she nudged you, squealing in excitement. "Always asking about you..."

She trailed off, but by the time you could ask her what she meant by that, she had already dashed away, her excuse being that she had promised to meet up with Usopp.

And ever since that moment, you began to ponder her hypothesis: you became observant, attentive.

You started talking to Robin about it, and all the proof had seemed to turn toward the conjecture of the ship's navigator being true.

So you began glancing more his way, gaining another perspective from the swordsman.

Firstly, with curiosity, then with something more: a feeling that would tingle in your stomach when reciprocating glances that he would break no sooner he realized your sight on his.

To you, seeing the heat spread on his cheeks was absolutely heart-warming, and no matter how much anyone tried to reassure him, Zoro would slur out an excuse and walk away so he could finally breathe.

Adorable—that was what he looked like to you.

And so you began to fall for him.

Yet few were the moments in which you could actually get closer, and you wished it would escalate to more than just stolen glances.

But rescues, training, liberating—a plethora of other circumstances—would always get in the way of you two.

But, even so, no obstacle was as hard to sort as his awkwardness.

Zoro was aware of that, and often wished he could just "grow a pair", as Sanji would tell him and gain the courage to approach you, yet to no avail.

Helpless, it would all end in a what if, something he dreaded, but also something he could do little about.

Knowing this, frustration would take over your chest, an oppression that would become hard to ignore as you watched him turn every time he thought about coming closer.

Watching him had begun to become impossible, to the point that yearning would be unbearable.

A moment with someone you love is always difficult, yes, and even more in this case.

But at the sight of the circumstances, it was up to you to make the first move.

Making a move and praying it worked.

One good day, you woke up feeling lonely; feelings had been escalating to the point that, now, the ardor, the desire for your now favorite swordsman burned in your skin, and you found yourself missing him.

Missing him so much, that not just a glance could calm you, nor the monosyllabic responses of his.

Nami came to wake you up, staring with surprise at the fact you were already long awake before her arrival, given your habit of oversleeping.

There was a wide smile on your face as you finally got to go outside, breakfast having already been served, which you ate fast before before heading off to your chores.

"Think I'll train with Zoro today."

The few stragglers still in the kitchen—Brook, Usopp, and Robin—turned to each other as they wondered whether you were all right; judging by your large grin, and the way you were behaving—shining even brighter than usual.

The answer was obvious:

You were not all right.

And Zoro didn't expect any of this, of course.

He was, like every other day, completing another ruthless training session—starting by endurance training, followed by weight room, finishing with meditation.

Being in a constant state of go often helped him take a break from his insistent, lovesick heart—at least for a moment.

However, as he could not gather any sleep lately, he'd grown even less lenient than usual.

He kept his training harsh, curiously resembling a certain gloomy warlord when practicing his swings, or glaring at interlopers in his count.

Though, a tap to his arm from behind took him by surprise, and when he turned, he swore the air ceased to flow into his lungs.

"Hey."

He could barely stammer a greeting back at you after that; it was the first time—or at least one of the first times—that he was this close to you.

It was the first time that he got to see your beautiful eyes gleaming as you looked right at him; the first time that he got to see your smile spread for him.

It was the first time that he could see you early in the morning, where the sun shone right upon you, highlighting your breathtaking self to the point that his heartbeat turned erratic.

"Training extra hard today, I see..."

Your lips curved upwards in a bright grin while a faint wave of heat crept up your cheeks, you internally praying he didn't see—the swordsman was too busy trying to get his soul to come back to his body to notice, though.

From every single thing that could take him by surprise, this was one of the most unforeseeen to him.

Of course, he would wish and long for just a minute in which he could see you, his gaze often looking for you even if he did not want to.

You were so bright, so...

...Pretty.

Zoro felt as if his throat was closing.

The summer sun felt even more boiling on his stinging face—face that he might have been unaware had turned undeniably red.

Awkwardness immediately took over him, and so he did really forget how to utter a word correctly, without stumbling.

You did not miss any of this; it was obvious—you wanted to believe it was—and that got your heart fluttering.

"Yeah," he blurted, unable to look away from you, when he normally would.

But, how could he even look away, if any time you were around, even if you were unaware, his gaze was always upon you?

It was as if, out of reflex, he had trained himself unconsciously to look in the direction of his heart.

Of course.

"Mind if I join you?"

The question took him aback, and if he had been petrified before, he now stood as stiff as a tower.

Joining him?

You... wanted to join him?

Which meant staying until late afternoon with him?

Which meant staying together, which meant being close to one another—

—Oh, shit.

A nod left him without much of a second thought; it was faint, but overt.

It didn't fail to make you giggle.

You knew you were right to like him, and just how obvious he was with his non-verbal language could only make your heart race.

"All right, then!" you beamed, tugging a hair tie off your wrist and pulling up your hair. "You gonna show me the ropes?"

You turned to Zoro, oblivious to the leverage you had, even more so when your gaze laid ever-so charmingly on the swordsman.

However, before he could respond, some of your crewmates—Usopp, Brook, and Franky—had been unlucky enough to be caught by said swordsman in the middle of their giggling.

Whether at you, or at his helplessness, he was unsure, until his gaze flickered to them—to which they had been quick to turn away.

"What's so damn funny, huh?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it had lowered several octaves to the point that it came across as a deep hiss—needless to say, this was enough of a threat.

You, ever oblivious to what was going on, pressed your lips into a thin line in order to stifle a laugh.

It was indeed cute to see how he could assert such dominance and fear.

Your poor, terrified crewmates were quick to run and begin their chores, since it was known that Roronoa Zoro's threats were not empty ones.

So, while everyone began to scatter, the awkward silence arose once more.

Zoro tried hard to keep his gaze away from you, tried to distract himself with the workout he was supposed to be doing—but even so, you could still sense how tense he was.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" You spoke up eventually, a while after your training had begun.

There came once again your attempt to break the ice.

At first, it was a strenuous task, his answers coming in single syllables and mumbling until, as the day progressed, he would untense, and allow your conversation to develop into something more fluent, more relaxed.

Zoro eventually found himself being more verbose as you continued.

Whether it was getting used to being near you or just being partially focused on completing his training, he actually felt at ease with you, comfortable.

All of these feelings combined, plus the sight of you laughing—or just being, in general—made the feelings he kept for you bloom even more.

The same could be said about you, as well.

As he spoke, you couldn't help but allow yourself to memorize every one of his details.

The way the tip of his eye scar wrinkled as he talked, or the way he would hold back the desire to look at you—even at times it would be inevitable to do so.

Or the way that whenever he talked, there was a flicker of his eye, going down, then up, then back on you.

Or the way in which, from time to time, his lips would curve upwards into brief smiles that were ever-so heartwarming.

He showed himself genuinely to you, and this made you fall for him even more.

Which only made you want things to escalate more.

Were you nervous? Of course.

But your nervous heart commanded your movements, your actions, your words, forcing bits of excitement to bleed into your voice and make it crack in the slightest as you spoke.

And so, what was first deemed new soon enough turned into regular, and Zoro would even find himself delaying his training for you, waiting so you two could chat together, even go for a walk together.

Just like the day it happened.

[ooooo-mcyt]

Jimmy is the kind of guy who is best friends with his exes to me. In the life series we always have these dramatic toxic breakups between seasons but Jimmy is not that guy to me.

Like, Tango? They get on like a house on fire. Jimmy sees Tango and he goes "!!!! :D" and there's literally zero negative tension, like, probably the soulmate pair that got out of Double Life with the least Weirdness between them. They may not be Partners anymore but they have so much fun together and are actually besties.

Martyn and Joel both playfully bully Jimmy of course and he complains about it but I think it reads as being all in good fun and they're both still very fond of Jimmy, which I think is a very very mutual sentiment.

Things were More Weird with Scott for a long time, admittedly, and this is maybe the least positive relationship in this list to me, because there have been times when these two were Not On Great Terms, but I think as the seasons go on we get significantly less Divorce Weirdness and significantly more more "(i can always tell when you're nearby) Because you're my best friend and I love you lots <3" moments, so like. Nature is healing.

I just feel like it's a testament to how likable Jimmy can be that despite the Lifers' love for dramatic breakups and grudges, Jimmy is pretty consistently adored by his previous partners whether they'll say it out loud or not, and often maintains a very positive dynamic with them.

[siredtoelijah44]

Teacher's Pet - Elijah Mikaelson (18+)

warnings: teacher x student relationship, age gap (everyone's 18), daddy kink, innocence kink, hints of corruption kink, fingering, oral (f!receiving), I think that's all lmk if I missed something

a/n: uhh this is my first real full length smut so sorry if it sucks and don't date your teachers irl

word count: 3497

Elijah stood at the front of the classroom. He knew his students were bored. It was a typical occurrence during his class. He was well aware history bored them, especially this particular group. They were almost at the end of their education in the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted. Most of them couldn’t be more excited. 

The weather had finally warmed back up. The quad had been full of students basking in the sunshine all week. It was Friday and Elijah knew the only thing on everyone’s minds was getting out of class for the weekend. This was his last class of the day too. 

But there was a particular student who’s wandering mind caught his attention. Her. 

She always paid attention in his class. Her hand was always up when he asked questions and she nodded along during his lectures. So it was unusual for her to be so quiet. Her gaze was fixed on the window behind Elijah and he wondered why. 

She was his best student. His sweetest student too. She was in the older bunch of kids still at the school because she had nowhere else to go. So the headmaster – Alaric Saltzman – had arranged for a sort of ‘college’ program. This way the students who aged out of high school weren’t completely on their own after graduation. 

She was one of those students. She had been adopted by parents who knew nothing of the supernatural world only to find out their new daughter was a werewolf. The Salvatore School had been designed to help kids like her who had nowhere else to go. And she hadn’t even triggered her curse until she was 17 so she’d only been in the world of vampires, witches and werewolves for two years. Hence she stayed. 

And all her friends were here. The Saltzman twins weren’t leaving any time soon. And Elijah’s niece, Hope, split her time between Mystic Falls and New Orleans. 

Elijah had become fond of her over the months. She was a curious girl and it was reflected in the sheer participation in his class. She was in one of his advanced history of the supernatural classes for the older kids. She wasn’t required to take any more classes, but she did. And Elijah often found her in his office looking for more books and mind bubbling with questions. 

That was why her blank stare concerned him. So as class ended he decided to do something about it. As students filed out of his classroom he approached her desk. She was still packing up her things. 

“Is everything alright?” he inquired, pulling her from her own thoughts. 

She looked up at him, clearing her throat. “Y-yeah.” It didn’t sound very convincing and the look on his face told her he didn’t believe her for a second. “I just… I haven’t been sleeping great,” she finally admitted. 

He nodded. “Nightmares?” 

She shook her head. “No, just… just weird dreams.” 

He arched an eyebrow as he looked down at her. “You know you can talk to me,” he said gently. He had an open door policy for all his students. If they needed something they could come to him, but it was different with her. She’d spent far more time with him than any of his other students. 

She sighed softly. “I know, but it’s weird, Elijah.”

He smiled to himself. It had taken a while to finally convince her that she was allowed to call him Elijah and not Mr. Mikaelson. Most teachers at the school were called by first names. It was a tight knit environment. 

“Weird or not, I’m a good listener.” 

“I know you are.” A soft smile graced her lips as she looked up at him. 

✦

It had taken a few more days before she was finally willing to tell him what was going on. 

It was Sunday afternoon when she slipped into his ‘office’. Nearly everyone was either outside in the quad or off campus for the sunny afternoon. Alaric had taken some of the younger students on an outing, so the school was quiet. 

He heard her footsteps long before she opened his door. He continued reading the page he was on of his book until she finally sat down on the chair opposite of him. His office was cozy. He lived in a building that had been added on to the Salvatore property for the students. His office was there. He was sitting on the chair near his bookshelf. 

She cleared her throat. 

“What is it that I can do for you?” he asked, marking his page before setting the book down. 

“I just wanted to talk,” she murmured. He nodded. He’d assumed she’d wind up coming to talk to him sooner than later. She always did. She came to him for anything and everything, from boy problems to needing a hug when she was sad. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah… it’s just about the other day,” she said quietly. She seemed more nervous than normal around him. “Those dreams I’ve been having. This is going to sound really stupid but…”

He smiled gently. “You can tell me.” 

She sighed heavily. “When I wake up from… from the dreams,” she hesitated. He noticed the way she fiddled with her bracelet, a nervous habit of hers. “I’m all hot and achy.” 

His eyebrows shot up at her words. Hot and achy. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way her words affected him. He’d always found her beautiful but it was off limits. She was a student, barely 19. He was old enough to be her great great great, and a few more greats, grandfather. 

“Is that what being turned on feels like?” she asked. 

Elijah felt like he was going to have a heart attack. “Darling… I don’t think I’m the person you should be asking about this,” he said, his voice shakier than he would’ve liked. It was rare someone caught him off guard but her words had done the drink. 

“I know but… it’s way too embarrassing to admit to my friends that… that I don’t actually know what sex is.” 

He finally met her eyes again. “You… you don’t?” His voice was tight. 

She shook her head. “My parents um they were really religious.” 

He nodded as he understood where she was coming from. He had seen all sorts of things over the years. He’d been alive during times when sex was never discussed, especially amongst women. But it surprised him to know that a girl her age in this time didn't know anything about sex. She was innocent but the thoughts running through his head were anything but. 

“Well then I suppose, yes, I… I would consider what you described to me as being aroused.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at him. “I’ve tried everything to make it stop,” she whispered. “Hope made me a sleeping potion a-and I’ve even been trying Lizzie’s silly yoga routine but nothing helps.”

He couldn’t tell if she was just trying to get a rise out of him or if she was genuinely this clueless. “Oh darling, that’s not a solution,” he said softly. In fact he’d argue that ignoring it was going to make it worse for the poor girl. “It’s necessary to… release these desires.” 

He watched her face carefully after those words. She immediately averted her eyes “I-I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she squeaked out, clearly embarrassed by the thoughts of ‘releasing these desires’. 

“There’s no need to get shy all of the sudden,” he said. “We’re far beyond that, aren’t we?” 

She looked back up at him. “I told you it was stupid and weird–”

He cut her off. “It’s not stupid or weird. It’s completely natural, my dear. Everyone experiences some degree of arousal. And these dreams are also normal. Many people have… night time fantasies.” 

Her mind had immediately gone to the idea that Elijah had nighttime fantasies. He’d gotten the impression her mind was wandering as her eyes widened. He chuckles softly. She was so innocent it was adorable. 

“Are these dreams about me?” he asked bluntly. 

She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again. She repeated the action a few more times before she managed to find her words. “I-I… why… why would you… how did you…” she stumbled over her thoughts. “Yes,” was the final, quiet admission. 

He nodded. “Is this why you’ve been so distracted in my class, darling?” 

He watched her teeth sink into her bottom lip before nodding. “Yeah…” 

His lips curled into a taunting little smile. “And you came to me because what? You wanted me to help you, isn’t that right? Teach you?”

“I didn’t know who else to ask!” she protested. But she had come to him. She’d inadvertently told him she’d been fantasizing about him in her dreams, only to wake up aching. She didn’t know how to handle her desires or what it all really meant, so she’d turned to the one person she trusted with it. And the source of all her problems. 

A soft, nearly condescending, laugh left his lips. “Don’t lie to me. You wanted to know if I would take care of you. If I could fix that little ache between your thighs.” A flip had switched in him the second she’d finally admitted she’d been thinking about it. It wasn’t just him who’d been fantasizing. “You want me to make that feeling go away, don’t you?”

Her skin heated up as she digested his words. She’d never heard him talk like this. “Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“All you had to do was ask, silly girl.” He stood from his chair, stepping towards her. She had to tilt her head back to look at him as he approached her. “Instead you made this harder than necessary by playing games with me.” 

She swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I’m sorry,” she instinctively apologized as he towered over her. His fingers pressed under her chin to keep her looking at him. 

“Hm.” He looked her up and down. “I’ll accept your apology under one condition – you tell me exactly what you want from me.”

The thought of admitting she desired him was embarrassing, especially because she was so inexperienced. She didn’t know what she was asking for. She just wanted him to make it all feel better however he could. “I want… I want you to make the ache go away.” Her admission was quiet. 

“You can do better than that, darling.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. She felt flushed and she could feel her heart stuttering against her ribcage. “I want you t-to touch me. I want to know what it feels like when someone touches you like that.” 

“Better,” he hummed. His fingers ghosted across her jawline, down her neck, making a shiver run through her body. He smiled at her reaction. “I’ll take care of you.” 

Her eyes widened as he sank to his knees in front of her. “E-Elijah–”

He cut her off, tutting softly. “When I take care of you, no calling me Elijah,” he said, his voice more commanding than usual. “Daddy or sir only. Understood?” 

She nodded. 

He clicked his tongue again. “I asked you a question. I expect you to answer with words.” 

“Y-yes, I understand.” 

His eyebrow raised. “Yes, I understand…?”

“Yes, I understand, daddy.” Her skin felt like it was on fire from the combination of embarrassment and arousal. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d come to him in a moment of weakness. Perhaps deep down – like he’s suggested – she’d come to him because she wanted this to happen. But it was overwhelming. This whole thing was completely new to her. No one had ever touched her. Hell, she’d only ever been kissed once. 

“Good girl,” he cooed, “you’re learning quick.” 

He leaned up to press his lips against hers. Her lips against his were clumsy at first. She didn’t know what to do with herself as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, but eventually the fell into a delicate rhythm. Her lips were soft against his. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was breaking so many rules but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when she’d showed up in his office in that little skirt, telling him she was having wet dreams. 

I wake up all hot and achy. Is that what being turned on feels like? The question had been so innocent, despite the subject. Her eyes had been wide with curiosity he was familiar with. She’d asked it just like she’d ask him any other question about history. The words had shot straight through his body, making his blood rush south. 

Now with her lips against his, he was finally giving in. He couldn’t stop now. He was in too deep. He needed to be the one to touch her. She’d admitted to being untouched and he needed to be the one to ruin her innocence. He couldn’t imagine some boy having his hands all over her pretty little body. The thought made something ugly rear its head in him. She deserved better than some fumbling boy to be her first time. She deserved someone who could actually make her feel good. He’d make her feel good. 

Her lips were swollen from his kisses as he pulled away and glistening with spit, as her breath came out in soft puffs. She already looked like a wreck and all he’d done was kiss her. He couldn’t wait to see how pretty she looked once he got his hands on what he really wanted. 

He kissed down her neck, letting his teeth graze lightly over the skin. But he didn’t let his lips linger long enough to leave obvious marks. He didn’t need anyone questioning how she’d ended up with love bites all over her neck so he resisted the urge to mark her as his. He’d do it in other ways. 

Elijah slipped his fingers under her shirt, feeling the smooth expanse of her stomach. He pulled his lips away from her skin long enough to ask, “can I take this off?” 

She nodded but remembered his earlier words. “Yes, Eli–” she was quick to correct herself. “Yes, daddy.” 

He smiled. She lifted her arms up to help him peel her shirt off, leaving her in only her bra. “Such a pretty girl,” he cooed. His gaze was heated. His hands left fire in their wake as he gently traced down from her collarbone to her breasts. 

He didn’t bother to take her bra all the way off. He just pulled the cups down, revealing her already hardened nipples to his gaze. Elijah ran his fingers over the hardened buds. He watched her face intently, noticing each expression she made as he explored her body. She seemed particularly fond of the way he was playing with her nipples. 

“Oh–” she gasped as he took one into his mouth, tongue swirling around. Each sound, each twitch of her body only spurred him on. And each flick of his tongue, each pinch of his fingers had her arching her back further into his touch as little noises escaped her swollen lips. 

Once he’d gotten his fill, he pulled away, admiring the way her skin glistened with his spit. He’d even left little marks across her tits. A reminder of him where no one else but her could see. 

Lips trailed down her stomach now, tracing the smooth skin until he reached the waistband of her skirt. His fingers worked quickly on the zipper and pulled the fabric down her legs. It was tossed to the side as he focused on what he really wanted. 

His hands were warm against her skin as he pried her thighs apart. He could smell her arousal clearly once her legs were spread. She was wearing heart covered panties. Cute, he thought. But Elijah had to bite back a groan as he saw the wet spot. She’d completely soaked through the fabric. 

She mewled softly as his finger brushed over the wetness. He looked up at her face, enjoying the way her face pinched up as he teased her through the fabric. But he couldn’t tease her for long. No, he was just as desperate as she was. 

Her panties were quickly discarded. She felt so bare but the way Elijah looked at her made her feel better. He was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

He groaned as he finally got a glimpse of her. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Look at this pretty little pussy. She’s dripping for me, princess.” 

Her cheeks burned at his crass words. She’d never heard Elijah talk like this before. She was going to say something but he stole the breath from her lungs as he ran a finger through her folds. An embarrassingly high pitched noise escaped her lips. 

Elijah only wanted to pull more pretty sounds from her. He ghosted a finger over her clit before leaning in to flick his tongue across the sensitive bud. Her thighs instinctively tried to close around his head, the pleasure overwhelming. But he gripped her thighs tightly to keep the spread for him. He wanted to devour her. And he did. 

He explored her with his tongue, taking mental note of what made her react the most. He focused his attention on her clit. He loved the way she moaned and tried to squirm as he did. But he still wasn’t satisfied. He was greedy.

A finger prodded at her entrance, gently pushing it in. He relished in the tightness of her pussy, the way she clenched around just one finger. He curled it, pumping it in and out until he found that spongy spot inside her that had her toes curling. 

He pulled his mouth off her. “Have you ever touched yourself like this?” he asked, looking up at her from his spot between her thighs. 

She shook her head. “N-no, daddy.” 

“Never?” he curled his finger again. “You’ve never rubbed your clit? Never put your fingers inside this pretty pussy?” 

His words sent heat through her body. She was tense, clenching around his finger again. She was overwhelmed in every way possible. And the feeling in her tummy was only growing – like a knot being wound, tighter and tighter with each touch. 

“Never,” she finally managed to choke out a response. 

“You’ve never come?” 

“No.” 

He was even more determined now. He redoubled his efforts, sucking her clit into his mouth. He needed her to come. He needed to be the first one to ever make her reach that high. He’d ruin her for anyone else. 

Soon enough, her moans were increasing in frequency. Nearly every touch had her crying out for him. He knew she was close. He kept up his pace, never faltering for a moment. Not even as she tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensations. 

“Just let go for me, princess,” he murmured against her skin. 

He curled his finger just right, his tongue flicking across her sensitive bud in tandem. It sent her over the edge. The knot in her stomach snapped, her toes curled and that warm, euphoric feeling spread through her body. It made her legs shake and then her body went limp. 

Elijah worked her through the aftershocks of her very first orgasm, bringing her down gently. He pulled away, sucking her juices off his finger. He squeezed her thigh gently.

She looked like a wreck, slumped in his chair with her eyes half lidded and hazy. Her hair was mussed up.

“Good girl,” he praised her softly. “Did so good for me, darling.”

She smiled weakly. “Thank you, daddy,” she murmured. 

He picked up her discarded clothing. He put each item back on her body, redressing her with care. He tried to smooth out her messy hair but it was clear what had just happened. Elijah pulled her from the chair to sit in his lap. He was still uncomfortably hard but he didn’t want to go there yet. She was still so innocent, completely new at this. 

As she curled up in his lap, she watched the way he adjusted himself in his trousers. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

“Don’t worry about that, love,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her forehead. “That’s for another time.” 

“Another time?” she couldn't help the hopefulness in her voice at the idea of doing this again. 

Elijah chuckled softly. “Did you think once would be enough?” 

“I dunno.” 

He smiled, kissing her forehead again. “Not a chance. You’re mine now darling, so you come to me when you feel achy again, okay?” 

“Okay,” she nodded, her head resting back down on his shoulder. 

“Good. Now rest.”