#they are fun and interesting and should interact move

[centipedetea]

the similarities between spamton and ralsei r so interesting

[logansdoll]

professor

the students are excited to have their old biology teacher back, but you can't be that great... right?

CW: fluffy fluff, the events of Last Stand didn't happen, Logan being Logan, reader is a chlorokinetic (controls plants), love at first sight, Logan's down bad off rip

It was a couple months back when word of your return began buzzing around the mansion.

No one knew where the rumor started, or who started it, but the day wasn't even half over before the entire student body was obsessed.

Whispers muttered during class, lunchtime gossip chains, study group pow-wows.

Many couldn't believe it.

You? Come back?

No way.

Some could've sworn you were supposed to be gone for at least a few more years.

Others thought you weren't supposed to come back at all.

And a small few even believed that your arrival could come as soon as the following month.

But after a week or so of no follow up, eventually, the rumor was put to rest, interest diverted to the next, newest gossip on campus.

...

That is... until the story came out.

Apparently, one of the students—who seemed to have some sort of super-hearing—eavesdropped on a conversation between Scott and Charles, and found out you would, in fact, be returning to the school and your position as the biology teacher.

And that was all the students needed to go absolutely berserk.

It wasn't even a full twenty-four hours later before the first meeting of your welcoming committee was held, the new club already having about twenty-five members.

While they began making preparations and to-do lists for your arrival, another group began going out to your garden on the weekends, trimming the overgrown weeds and planting new flowers in their place, caring for them in the meantime.

Some students even started straightening up your old classroom, cleaning the clouded glass of the greenhouse and redecorating with your favorite blooms.

And, of course, Logan had to return from one of his trips right in the middle of it.

Now, at first, he didn't really give a shit.

But out of curiosity, he asked Rogue what all the commotion was about—especially after some kid ran past him with a trolley full of potting soil—and what he gathered was that you were some professor who left about a year ago to teach abroad.

Apparently, you were nearly every kid's favorite teacher, your fun and interactive lessons, along with your genuinely kind and caring personality, touching the hearts of damn near the entire student body.

Even kids who had never met you before were chipping in, helping out those who needed a little extra manpower.

It was almost unbelievable.

'If this chick doesn't show up, Charles is gonna have a nuclear war on his hands...'

"Guys!" Kitty shouted, running straight through the front door and into the foyer. "I think her car just pulled up!"

The following stampede could've ranked as a 9.0 on the Richter scale.

It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, and half the kids were still in their pajamas, but they all moved with lightning speed, grabbing their signs and noise-makers before running down the stairs.

A boy with super speed sprinted to the lower level dorms and woke everyone else, while a girl with the ability to stretch hung up a welcome banner over the archway.

"Hurry! She's walking up!" Kitty reported, her head halfway through a window.

Quickly, the students formed a crowd at the door, the teachers slowly descending the stairs to join them.

"Mmm. She's here already?" Jean yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she landed on the final step, hand in hand with Scott.

"Still as punctual as ever," he smiled.

"I'll say," Ororo grinned, crossing her robe over her chest, "She wasn't supposed to show up for another week."

Logan was less amused.

No one should have that much energy on a weekend.

Even still, he quietly settled himself off to the side, leaning up against a wall while the others joined the crowd.

'You wouldn't get this kinda reception if the President was the one coming...'

"Y'know..." Ororo started, seemingly out of nowhere, as she joined him on the wall. "I think you'll like her... she's just your type."

He turned to her, raising a brow, "Is she, now?"

Despite his playful tone, he wasn't entertaining the idea in the slightest.

All that true love-soulmate bullshit didn't exist for men like him.

He was 136, going on 137, and had loved and lost enough times to realize that at the end of the day, he'd outlive her.

So why bother?

His life would be one he forever walked alone—a fact he was slowly coming to terms with.

Or at least he thought he was.

Because as you walked through the threshold before him, flashing a heart-stopping grin, he felt all that shit go flying out his head.

You were absolutely beautiful.

And you'd think after 200 years he'd learn...

"Surprise!" the children cheered, proudly holding up their signs and tossing confetti into the air. "Welcome home!"

You gasped, dropping your bags and covering your mouth in shock as you admired the homemade decorations.

"Kids, you shouldn't have!" you smiled brighter than the sun, letting out a small laugh as they all rushed you for a group hug.

And, of course, you were happy to oblige.

"It's good to see you, (y/n)," Scott greeted, he and Jean walking over.

(y/n).

The name sounded like honey on his tongue.

"Logan," Ororo smirked, elbowing her friend in the rib. "You're drooling."

The man cleared his throat, closing his mouth and averting his eyes so they couldn't embarrass him any further.

"Some of you have gotten so big since we last met!" you cheesed, pulling back to examine each of them. "And I see some new faces, too..."

But, against his will, Logan's gaze trailed back to you, Jean's speech going in one ear and out the other.

And when it landed on your face again, he realized he wasn't the only one staring.

Your soft, (e/c) eyes were trained on him as well, their flicker of curiosity and awe completely contrasting your composed demeanor.

It made him feel hot, being subject to your gaze, and he could feel himself thoughtlessly straightening his posture, making himself appear taller, and slightly larger.

You let out a silent laugh, discreetly bringing a hand to your lips to cover it, but not before letting the man get a peak of your smile once more.

Fuck, that smile.

"Can you two quit eye-fucking? It's gross," Scott groaned, joining the two on the wall.

Logan ignored him, looking toward you with a small smirk.

Something about you gave him a good feeling... like things would be different.

Maybe love could exist for him after all...

[iydiamartinx]

THIS MEANS WAR V

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 3k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: This might’ve been one of my favorite chapters to write so far—I had way too much fun with it  Also, not sure if everyone caught my earlier heads-up, but I’m currently on vacation! This is a scheduled post, and I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to interact while I’m away. I will catch up once I’m back though! You can check out my little announcement here, for more info on when posts are scheduled and how long they’ll keep coming. The taglist will most likely be on pause until I return, but feel free to let me know if you’d still like to be added—I’ll make sure to include you in later chapters once I’m back!

OUTSIDE THE GOLDEN CUP

You were fully ready to go home and forget Jason Todd ever existed—maybe even bitch about him to Milo and Anthony over some wine, when you caught sight of the last two people you wanted to see.

They were strolling your way, all smiles and casual affection, like some goddamn ad for moving on. Jake laughed at something she said, and you watched—horrified, frozen—as he brushed her hair back with the same hand that used to trace your jaw.

Your breath caught.

No. No, no, no.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath. “This is not happening right now.”

They hadn’t seen you yet, but it was only a matter of time. And you couldn’t do it again—you couldn’t be the girl standing alone while your ex showed off his new life like it was a goddamn prize he won by throwing you away.

You refused to give him that satisfaction.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You turned around and bolted after Jason.

“Wait—come back here!”

He turned, confusion flickering across his face as you reached out and grabbed his arm. “What the hell—?”

You barely let him finish.

“I need you to kiss me,” you hissed.

Jason stared at you like you’d sprouted a second head. “What? No!”

“Just kiss me!”

His brow furrowed in complete disbelief. “Why would I kiss you? Are you—are you insane?”

You glanced over your shoulder—Jake was looking this way now—and panic flared hotter.

“I’m serious!”

He leaned back slightly, like he was trying to decide if you were testing him or genuinely unwell. “Absolutely not. You’re completely bipolar.”

You let out a desperate, frustrated sound and grabbed him by the collar before he could protest further—then yanked him down and slamming your lips against his.

You kissed him.

Hard.

He froze.

But only for a moment.

His grip slid instinctively to your waist, and he kissed you back with a heat that knocked the breath out of you. His mouth was warm, confident, a little possessive. Infuriating as he was, Jason Todd could kiss. 

Your fingers curled tighter in his jacket as the world fell away. For one dizzying second, you forgot Jake existed. Forgot why you were doing this. Forgot everything except the heat of Jason’s mouth on yours and the steady grip of his hands anchoring you in place.

Then—

“Y/N?”

Your name cut through the haze like a slap of cold air.

You pulled back, breath catching in your throat, lips tingling. Jason didn’t move. His mouth was still inches from yours. His gaze flicked to your lips, then up to your eyes, like he was debating whether he should kiss you again—reasons be damned.

Jake’s voice came clearer now, closer. “Y/N.”

You turned toward him, feigning surprise like you’d only just noticed. “Oh!” you gasped—more breathless than you meant to be, though that only worked in your favor. “Jake! Wow, what are the odds of running into you again?”

He smiled, but it was thin, the kind that hovered somewhere between forced and insincere. “Yeah. Funny coincidence. Who’s this?”

You forced a bright smile, even as you felt Jason’s stare drilling into the side of your face, sharp enough to make your skin prickle.

“Jason—my boyfriend,” you said, pitching your voice higher than usual. “You remember, right? The doctor I told you about? We met at that neuroscience conference.”

Jason still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t stopped glaring. Your nerves were fraying with every second of silence, mentally begging him not to ruin this. Not to humiliate you.

Then, finally, he shifted.

Jason turned toward Jake and Hannah with a grin that was all charm on the surface—and nothing but sharp edges underneath. “Jason Todd,” he said, extending his hand.

Jake hesitated, then reached out. The second their palms met, Jason’s grip tightened just enough to make a point.

Jake winced.

“Jake,” he replied, trying not to sound rattled. “You’ve got a strong grip. So… you’re a neurosurgeon?”

You resisted the urge to groan. Three years of dating, and Jake still hadn’t figured out the difference between a neurosurgeon and a neuroscientist.

“Scientist,” Jason corrected smoothly, not missing a beat. “Same as Y/N. We work together—and I have to say, she’s a brilliant woman.”

Jake’s smile twitched, strained at the edges. “Yeah she is.” he agreed more out of the sake of agreeing rather than actually believing it.

“Oh wow, that’s so amazing,” Hannah gushed, completely sincere. “A couple that’s both gorgeous and smart? Total power duo.”

You didn’t miss the way Jake’s jaw ticked at that. His smile faltered.

Jason, of course, leaned into it with practiced ease.

“Ah, Y/N’s the amazing one,” he said, glancing down at you with a look so convincingly tender your stomach flipped. “I don’t know what I love more—getting to work beside her or waking up every morning knowing she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat blooming beneath your skin.

God. He was good at this.

“He’s such a charmer,” you laughed, sharing a quick smile with Hannah before turning to Jason with a soft shake of your head. “If anything, I’m the lucky one.”

He crinkled his nose. “God, I love you.”

“I love you,” you giggled—at the exact same time.

Jake blinked, clearly caught off-guard, his expression faltering. His mouth opened like he might say something—then shut again, silent for once.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours again, gentler this time. Your fingers curled around his jacket instinctively as your body leaned into his without thinking. When you finally pulled back, you let out a breathless laugh, resting your head against his chest.

“We’re really happy,” you told Jake and Hannah, your voice light, breezy, too casual for how hard your heart was pounding.

Jason nodded, keeping you close with a hand settled snugly at your waist. “We are. But then again—who wouldn’t be happy with her? She’s got the brains, the beauty… even the brawn. Did you know she was a gymnast in high school?”

Jake stiffened. His frown appeared, vanished, then locked into place. “No. I didn’t.”

Jason’s grin turned wicked. “Didn’t think so.”

You gave a slightly awkward smile, not having expected him to bring that little detail up. “Yeah… he likes to brag,” you said with a giggle, reaching up to lightly slap his cheek in a silent shut up.

Jason just laughed, eyes dancing with mischief. “Ooh, feisty—I love it. My girl’s such a wildcat.”

And then, to your horror, he emphasized the point by bringing his large palm down on your ass in a quick, confident smack.

You let out a startled squeak. “Jason!”

He grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Sorry. I just can’t get enough of you.” Then he turned to the other two with a grin that was anything but apologetic.

Jake looked like he was rethinking every life choice that led him to this moment.

But Hannah?

Hannah sighed like she’d just watched the final scene of a rom-com. “That’s so romantic,” she breathed, practically glowing. Her eyes were glued to Jason, dreamy and starstruck, like she’d just mentally cast him as the lead in every fantasy she’d ever had.

You blinked.

Jason smirked.

And Jake looked one second away from combusting.

He shifted awkwardly, clearly itching to escape. “Well. It was nice seeing you, Y/N. And… meeting you, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You too, Josh. We gotta run.”

Jake blinked. “It’s… Jake.”

“Oh.” Jason tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Right. Jake. Sorry, man. So many J names floating around in my life lately.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard, doing everything you could not to burst out laughing.

“It was really nice meeting you,” Hannah said sweetly, clearly trying to smooth things over.

Jason turned to her like she was the only person in the world. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said, catching her hand with gallant ease.

Then—of course—he bowed slightly and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand like he was stepping straight out of a period drama.

Hannah flushed instantly, caught somewhere between flattered and utterly frazzled.

Jake’s frown sharpened, but he forced a brittle smile. “Oh look at that. A kiss on the hand. Classy.”

“You are so lucky,” Hannah whispered to you with starry eyes. And she meant it. The poor girl was enchanted.

You gave a polite, noncommittal smile. “I know.”

Jake clearly had enough. He tugged Hannah’s hand a little too firmly. “Enjoy your night.”

“Oh, we will,” Jason replied, already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against him like he’d been waiting all night for an excuse. As the couple turned to walk away, Jason called out, sweet as syrup, “See ya, Justin!”

“It’s Jake!” came the snapped reply from halfway down the block.

Jason grinned, satisfied. Like a cat full of cream and mischief. His eyes still sparkled as he watched them disappear around the corner.

Then Jason turned to you, expression flat, voice bone-dry. “So. Want to tell me what the hell that was?”

You let out a slow breath, brushing your hair out of your face as the adrenaline finally started to fade. “An emergency.”

He arched a brow. “That’s not how normal people handle emergencies.”

You snorted, the tension finally beginning to unravel from your spine. “I’m not normal. You of all people should know that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s one word for it.”

Your mouth twitched, and you looked up at him, expression softening. “Thanks, by the way. Really.”

A sly smile curved across his lips as he cupped a hand behind his ear. “Sorry—what was that? This ear’s a little deaf.”

You huffed, but it came with a reluctant smile. “I said thank you. Thank you. You don’t have to be annoying about it.”

He grinned, but this time there was something softer behind it. Something genuine. “You want to try this again? Start over. We could grab a bite—your pick.”

You hesitated, teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Then he added, “You do owe me an explanation for… whatever that was.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. He wasn’t wrong. You had, technically, assaulted him with a surprise kiss and roped him into a soap opera without warning. The fact that he went along with it—without throwing you to the wolves—definitely earned him a second chance. And probably dessert.

“Come on—I know a café just down the street. Cozy, quiet, not too many people. Coffee that’s actually good,” you added, shooting him a teasing look over your shoulder, “and the pastries are amazing.”

CAFÉ NERO

“…and I packed up everything,” you said, fingers tracing the rim of your iced coffee. “Turned down a position at STAR Labs. All to move back here with him.”

You took a sip, using the taste of the cold overly sweet liquid to ground you for a second.

“Few months later, I found him in our bed with his yoga instructor.”

Jason winced. “Damn.”

You gave him a rueful grin. “You can say it. I’m an idiot. Three PhDs, I literally study the brain—and I still didn’t see how much of a tool he was.”

Jason shook his head. “You’re not an idiot. You were in love. Love’s great at messing with the parts of the brain that normally warn us about red flags. Doesn’t make you dumb. Just makes you human.”

Your gaze softened at his surprisingly insightful words. “He just wasn’t the guy I thought he was. It feels like… a mistake.”

Jason leaned back, his tone more certain. “I don’t believe in mistakes.”

You gave him a look, amused. “That’s a very convenient philosophy for someone like you.”

He smirked. “Maybe. But it’s the mistakes that shape us. Break us down, sure. But they also build us. They brought you back here, didn’t they?”

You blinked, considering. “Would you rather be back in Central City?” he asked.

“Surprisingly… no.” You glanced out the café window, watching the Gotham streets pulse with life. “For all its chaos, Gotham was—is my home. I love my place and my best friends live across the hall.”

“And you like your job,” Jason added.

“I love my job,” you agree, thinking about all the brilliant sleep deprived lunatics you taught and worked with.

He shrugged. “So there you go.” Then, watching you mull it over, his smirk softened. “Just saying.”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “That’s dangerously close to sounding wise.”

“I have my moments,” he smirked, then quoted, almost under his breath,“‘We all have a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.’”

You blinked. “Wait—what was that?”

Jason took a slow sip of his drink, expression suspiciously innocent.

“No way!” You gasped “That’s Pride and Prejudice.” You pointed a finger at him, eyes lit with amusement. “That’s a direct quote.”

He didn’t deny it. Just smiled. “You sure?”

“Yes!” you laughed, practically bouncing in your seat. “That’s Elizabeth. Talking about trusting your own judgment. I wrote a whole damn paper on it in high school!” You leaned forward, studying him like he was a puzzle you’d only just realized you wanted to solve. “How do you know that quote?”

“Maybe I just appreciate the classics,” he said, trying for nonchalance—but the faint flush rising in his cheeks betrayed him.

You squinted at him. “How many times have you read it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve lost track.”

His flush deepened, blooming up his cheeks now, and you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You so are.”

“It’s good,” he defended, a little sheepishly. “Austen didn’t just write about romance. She wrote about perception. Power. How we lie to ourselves and convince ourselves we’re right—until someone challenges us.”

You tilted your head, watching him with new eyes—seeing a side of him that didn’t quite fit the arrogant bad boy persona you’d so easily pinned him with. Maybe he was right. Maybe you had been too quick to assume. He hadn’t exactly made the best first impression, sure—but you hadn’t given him much of a chance to prove otherwise, either. The truth was, you’d both misjudged each other. Different shades of the same mistake.

“It’s not just Darcy and Elizabeth dancing around their feelings,” he went on. “It’s how pride isolates you. How prejudice can ruin things before they even begin. It’s about waking up to your own flaws and doing something about them.”

“Wow,” you murmured, genuinely impressed. A smile tugged at your lips. “Okay. That was… borderline profound.”

He chuckled, looking a little self-conscious. “I read it when I was younger. Thought I was a Darcy type.” He paused, then added dryly, “Turns out I was more of a Lydia.”

You choked on your drink. “Lydia?!”

“Metaphorically,” he said, raising his hands. “Reckless. Stubborn. Thought I knew everything and didn’t need anyone.” He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “But don’t worry, I’ll still be the Darcy to your Elizabeth.”

“That is so cheesy.” You giggled. “I still can’t wrap my head around the face that you’re a closet Austen fan.”

“Don’t go telling people,” he said with a crooked grin. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Too late,” you teased. “I’m never letting this go.” A smile lingered on your lips as you shook your head in disbelief. “And here I thought you were all leather jackets and terrible flirting.”

Jason leaned in, forearms braced on the table, eyes glinting. “Maybe I just needed the right Elizabeth Bennet to call me out.”

You raised your cup, matching the spark in his gaze. “You’ve got a long way to go, Mr. Darcy.”

His smirk deepened. “Challenge accepted.”

Now that you weren’t arguing or making assumptions about each other, the date had gone… surprisingly well.

More than well, actually.

You found yourself genuinely enjoying Jason’s company—his sharp wit, his unexpected depth, and the fact that, beneath the leather and bravado, he was a total literary nerd. Not only could he keep up when you started debating themes and structure, he actually challenged you. Matched your pace with insight and humor.

It reminded you—just a little—of how Dick had been able to keep up when you started rambling about science. The way he hadn’t just nodded along, but asked questions. Listened.

You tried not to think about that. Tried not to dwell on the small, unwelcome flutter of disappointment still lingering in your chest over the fact that he hadn’t texted you back. Maybe he got busy. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. You brushed it off and pulled your focus back to Jason, who, to his credit, hadn’t given you a single reason to walk away again.

What were the odds, anyway? Two gorgeous, intelligent men—both with sharp minds and devastating smiles—taking you out in the span of a few days. 

You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until you glanced outside. The streetlights had flickered on. Gotham was slipping into night—where the real chaos lived. The two of you had been talking for far longer than an hour, and while your brain wanted to stay planted in that booth, you’d learned your lesson.

You stood reluctantly, gathering your things as the last traces of sunlight slipped out of Gotham’s skyline. Juan glanced up from where he was wiping down the counter and sent you a knowing grin.

“Can I expect no more order for one?”

You glanced toward the door, where Jason was already there, holding it open with one hand, waiting. Then back to Juan, smirking. “We’ll see.”

Juan chuckled softly. “He’s good man, Doctora.”

You smiled, warmth creeping into your chest. “Yeah,” you said, eyes drifting back to the door. “I think he really is.”

Outside, the air was cooler now but neither of you seemed to mind, wanting to drag out the moment for just a few more minutes.

Jason paused beside you on the sidewalk, hands in his jacket pockets. “So,” he asked, voice casual but eyes watching you closely, “what’s the verdict?”

You tilted your head, lips curling into a smile. “The verdict is… I actually had a lot of fun. And I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

Something that looked suspiciously like relief flickered across his face before settling into a crooked, satisfied grin. “And here I thought I might have to crash another one of your lectures.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You were insane for doing that.”

He shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “Worked, didn’t it? Got me a date with you.”

You grinned, warmth blooming in your chest despite yourself.

The two of you exchanged numbers and say your goodbyes. Jason offered one last wink before turning and disappearing into the crowd like he belonged to the night.

You made it home in one piece—miraculously not mugged or emotionally spiraling—kicked off your shoes, and flopped onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. Then you checked your phone.

One unread message.

Your eyes widened as you saw the name on the screen.

Dick Grayson

Hey, sorry I haven’t texted sooner. Got caught up with an emergency. Let me know when you’re free for that second date.

Your stomach dropped.

Oh. Shit. You were so screwed.

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Taglist: @mei-simp, @sept3mberchild, @a-brilliante-mariposa, @feralwolfkat, @mercuryathens, @beepboopcowboy, @lordbugs, @coffeemin, @nikkeora, @yuyuti02

[astolat]

hey, I really love in your GOT fics especially your sense of military strategy and idk... kingdom building for lack of a better word? and I was wondering if there's any particular sources or histories you read that helped you develop how a sense of that would work.

Aw, thank you!

A caveat here: I have spent literally decades reading history for both research and for fun, and I am terrible at remembering titles, so I wouldn't say these are particular sources. Also, I note that as a storyteller, I'm not especially interested in realism. I read history for illumination and inspiration, not to use as a model.

All that said, here are a handful of sources that I love and happen to remember as I type:

The Art of War by Sun Tzu (many versions out of copyright and available via project gutenberg).

Everything written by Barbara Tuchman who is probably my single favorite writer of history.

A Military History & Atlas of the Napoleonic Wars -- I think this will be tough to process if you don't first read several histories of the Napoleonic era to give you an understanding of the period and events, but it's a peerless book for learning how to translate historical descriptions of battles into a more grounded understanding of where and how the soldiers involved actually were and how they moved and interacted.

Nelson's Navy is also a great reference work for Age of Sail, as is the period source A Young Sea-Officer's Sheet Anchor, which is also out of copyright but worth getting in a printed version for the illustrations.

Podcasts/videos: Fall of Civilizations is fantastic, The History of English (as in, the history of the English language) & The History of Rome are also great. If you're willing to shell out for a membership to Great Courses for long enough, the 48-episode History of Egypt by Bob Brier is also wonderful.

I also highly recommend the heavily moderated AskHistorians subreddit which is a great rabbit hole in which to lose three days where you should have been writing. :P

I invite other people to chime in with useful sources that I can go read!

[the-one-who-lambs]

Sheep body language

Since the body language of cats is pretty common knowledge, I haven't had to research it too much for fic-writing purposes. I haven't gotten a chance to interact with sheep nearly as often as I have cats, though, so I find myself looking up the body language of sheep quite often. I thought it might be helpful/interesting to share some of what I've found over the years of writing CotL fics, in case anyone wants to use it to help with their writing/art c: Some of this I've learned from professional/farming resources, but most of it is honestly just from reading forums about sheep and reading the "informal data" about people's experiences with sheep!

Stomping, quite predictably, means a sheep is irritated/aggressive, but their stomping isn't actually all that loud as you might expect with hooves. (Thus, it's easy to misjudge how aggressive a sheep might be feeling if their stomping is fairly quiet.)

If they're pawing someone, though, it often means they're trying to pester for treats/pets.

Ears turned sideways or a bit backwards means a sheep is relaxed. Pointing backwards usually indicates fear. Pointing forwards, especially if the head is tilted up, can indicate either stress or curiosity (the common denominator here is the sheep is trying to figure out what's going on/if something is unfamiliar or new). Asymmetrical ears are associated with stress or frustration as well.

Scared or uncomfortable sheep might drop their heads, as if to blend in with the flock/their surroundings

If the ears are flicking, the sheep is probably frustrated or stressed. Their ears tend to move more often the more uncomfortable they are

They also tend to snort when they're annoyed

Half-shut eyes indicate feeling safe, but squinting can indicate the sheep's in pain. Another common sign of pain is grinding their teeth.

Bunting is an aggressive gesture, and so is lowering the head/presenting the forehead and backing up (preparing to bunt).

On a similar note, head pets or horn touches can similarly be taken as a show of dominance/challenge since rams headbutt. Top-of-the-head pets should be given with caution, only if you know the sheep enjoys it, but it'll depend on the individual

Common places sheep like to be pet: base of/behind/inside the ears, under-neck, under the jaw, chest, under the belly, top of the tail, behind the horns (apparently sheep can get itchy behind the horns). If they're really happy with the scratches they might lick the air.

Happy tail wiggles.

Sheep can get the zoomies when they're excited.

It takes about 4-5 sheep to get them to display their normal flocking behaviors. Isolation from other sheep "causes severe stress and should be avoided," and sheep separated from their mothers in young childhood tend to be more anxious in adulthood even when in company of others :)

Take the above info as much or as little as you'd like to, since we're all making fan creations that are fictional anyway so you should do whatever you want forever. Anyway, have fun with these

[frostiexavier]

⎯⎯ ୨ campus confession ୧ ⎯⎯

☆ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ only ☆

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

ੈ♡˳ summary: You tag along with Caleb for the weekend to help him settle in at the DAA. He is super excited to show you around campus and introduce you to his friend. But this weekend doesn’t go as either of you had planned.

ੈ♡˳ warnings: fem! reader x caleb, fluff, smut, praise, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), i think thats it, very fluffy end, oh also angry reader tehe

ੈ♡˳ word count: 10.1k (sorry its kinda long)

“I will be there in 5 minutes to pick you up, pipsqueak. I can’t wait to see you!”, Caleb exclaimed excitedly over the phone.

“Me too! Text me when you get here and I will make my way down to the car!”, you said both excited and in a hurry. Trying to finish packing before Caleb arrives.

“10-4, see you then”, he replies and you end the call, tossing your phone into your pocket.

“Okay, keys, wallet, phone, toiletries, clothes, ugh but I’m forgetting something”, you try to think while you scramble through your backpack to triple check you have everything. A sudden knock on the door stops your commotion.

You move to the front door and open it to find Caleb standing there. Leaning against the door frame like he has been waiting there for an hour when it's only been 10 seconds. He is wearing the t-shirt you bought him last time you were together and a pair of blue jeans. The shirt makes his biceps pop, which makes your heart flutter. You knew he would wear it, which is why you bought it for him.

You and Caleb have been inseparable since you were kids when Gran took you both in. Even though people would call you siblings, you never saw Caleb in that way. Ever since you met Caleb you have always had a secret crush on him, He would always get attention from girls at school and it made you slightly jealous. But when guys were interested in you, he would always play the protective older brother role and tell you that those guys had bad intentions. You weren’t interested in anyone else anyways but it made it even harder for you to move on from your crush. Even now when you are both heading off to college, he made you promise to tell him if you liked someone so he could approve of the guy. You love him for being protective of you but you wish he would take the hint.

“I told you to text me”, you sigh and let him walk past you into your apartment.

“I did, but figured you were trying to pack in a hurry”, he says, looking at all the stuff that was just neatly packed in your backpack a disarray on the couch.

“You procrastinator”, he smirks and turns to you with his arms folded in front of him.

“Don’t look at me like that, I was totally ready to go but I feel like I am forgetting something”, you say, scratching your head and sighing.

“Phone charger?”, he smugly asks, placing his hands on his hips.

“ Oh my god Caleb, that's it!”, you say and quickly run into your room to grab your phone charger from the outlet behind your nightstand. You quickly make your way back to Caleb.

“You were right!”, you say as you start to repack your stuff.

“You always forget it and end up stealing mine. Remember in middle school you forgot to pack it for our school trip and my phone suffered; it was dead the entire time.”, he chuckles as he joins in helping you repack your things.

“You didn’t need your phone, the trip was so fun that your mobile games would have taken away from your free time”, you say zipping your backpack closed and Caleb helps you put it on.

“Yeah but it would have been nice to take some photos of the trip. I only have the ones you sent me, and they are all pictures of me”, he replies, grabbing your baseball cap he gifted you a few years ago and placing it on your head; adjusting it to his liking.

“You should be happy I took photos of you. You have memories to look back on now. I could have been mean and not have taken any pictures of you at all”, you retort sticking your tongue out at him. He chuckles at your playfulness.

“Okay pipsqueak, but I didn’t get to take any of you”, he states, making his way to the front of your apartment door, carrying most of your things for you.

“Well you saved me from forgetting my charger this time; your phone won’t suffer so you can take all the pictures you want. With my approval of course, I won’t let you keep ugly pictures of me to hold as blackmail”, you state, locking your door and walking down the hallway with him. Reaching the elevator and taking it to the first floor.

He giggles and replies, “Oh pipsqueak, I already have a whole album on my phone of embarrassing pictures to blackmail you with. You have yet to cross me but when the day comes, you will have to beg me not to post them.” He leans toward your face and sticks his tongue out at you, mocking your teasing from earlier. Before you could respond,the elevator door opens and Caleb makes his way to his car. He places your things in his trunk as you make your way to the passenger seat.

“You aren’t the only one that keeps embarrassing pictures, tough guy. You better watch yourself too”, you remark at him as he gets into the car and buckles his seat belt. You take the hairbow from around your wrist and look in the cars built-in shade mirror to put your hair up into a messy bun.

“Okay let’s call it a truce, by the way, is this what they call a passenger princess?”, he laughs as you place the blanket you brought with you over your lap. You also have a cup already placed in one of the holders in the console of his car.

“I’m just getting comfortable. Why? Do I look like a princess?”, you say, leaning toward him and batting your eyelashes.

He leans towards you, mere inches away from your face and replies, “More like a passenger pipsqueak”. Your smile quickly turns into an annoyed expression and you flick his forehead.

“Ouch, hey that hurt”, he chuckles and flicks your forehead afterwards but not with as much force.

“Okay let’s go before we end up with bruises on our foreheads”, you laugh as you check the spot where he flicked you in the mirror.

“Alright, buckle up miss princess”, he replies, putting his sunglasses on and starts the car. He checks his mirrors and places his hand behind your seat looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking space. You loved when he did this, you always got a whiff of his cologne. You looked over to see the muscles in his neck extending.

After backing up he glances over at you and smirks before putting his attention back to the road and placing the car in drive. You can’t help but blush as he places one hand on the steering wheel and leaves one hand on the gear shift.

During the 3 hour car ride you and Caleb shared things about what is going on in your lives. You told him about how you will apply to the hunters association after college ends and all the training hunters have to do to keep up stamina. He listens intently to every detail and smiles as you talk about your dreams. As the hours go by and road trip games become boring, you finally arrive at the DAA. The campus was a lot bigger than you imagined, the dorms almost look like skyscrapers you would see in a big city. There was a runway with multiple jets and planes, to practice flying with you could only imagine.

“Woah”, you say astounded at the view before you.

“Pretty cool right?”, he says, parking the car in his designated student spot while tipping his sunglasses down to look at the runway.

“You should have become a fighter pilot like me so we could have gone to school together”, he says, directing his attention towards you now.

“No, I prefer the ground”, you laugh and unbuckle your seatbelt to exit the car.

He gets out of the car too and starts to grab your things. You are left carrying only the backpack on your back because he insists on carrying everything else.

“Follow me pipsqueak”, he says gesturing with his head to go with him.

“By the way, where will I be staying? You got me a visitor room right?”, you ask him and he chuckles softly in response.

“Visitor room? No, you’ll be staying in my dorm. I requested a single but they ran out so they gave me a double bed all to myself. I think I lucked out honestly. So I thought why waste the money on a visitor room”, he says walking to the front of the skyscraper-like building. The silver paneled windows and the sleekness of the architecture almost blinds you. You don’t know how he got lucky with a double bed by himself but you are just happy to be staying with him.

You walk in and the lobby was very modern. Everything looks grey with either black or white accents. People are studying with laptops and coffees within arms reach. The lobby is huge and Caleb doesn’t stop to make time to admire it, he makes a beeline for the elevators.

He presses the elevator button to go up. While waiting he takes his sunglasses off and hooks them to the front of his shirt. Still holding all of your luggage in his hand he waits for you to go into the elevator first once one opens up.

“Ladies first”, he gestures, making sure the doors don’t close on you while you get in. It's just the two of you in the elevator as he makes sure to press the “door close” button before anyone else could get in with you.

“What floor is your dorm on?”, you ask and he replies by pressing the button to the 14th floor.

“There are 50 floors?”, you say astonished, this building really was big. He looks over at you and loves how you are so easily amused.

“There is also a pool, game room, movie room, snack bar and other things like that. We can check them out later if you want”, he smiles at you as you turn and nod excitedly. Before you could say anything else the door opens and you let Caleb out first so you can follow him to his dorm.

“Here we are 14-12”, he says pressing his finger to the door handle, it automatically opens. He pushes the door open for you to go in first and you are astounded once again. The dorm is huge, it has a big kitchen and living area. You immediately walk in and examine the area, Caleb already has a few things set up but moving boxes are spread across the room still taped and all.

Caleb sets your things down on the sofa and stops to look at you admiring the place.

“Well whatcha think?”, he asks, placing both of his hands on his hips, head tilted to the side waiting for a response.

“It's huge Caleb, how are you affording this?” you ask him while touching the marbled kitchen counter.

“I told you pipsqueak, workin’ hard in school pays off, I got scholarships and I don’t have to pay a thing”, he crosses his arms, feeling proud of himself and he looks around his new place.

“Well you deserve it then I suppose. So what are we doing first?”, you ask him, looking around at all the unopened boxes.

“Why don’t you get settled, put your things up and I will look and see what we can tackle first yeah?”, he says, picking your things back up and heading to a bedroom.

He opens the door and places your things on the bed but to your surprise there are two beds in the room. They are exactly opposite of each other, making them parallel. The other is neatly made with dark blue sheets and a matching duvet.

“Uh Caleb, why are there two beds in here? Where is your room?”, you ask him and he turns around confused at your question.

“What do you mean? I told you I had a double bed room.”, he states nonchalantly.

“I thought you meant like a 2 bedroom dorm. We can’t both sleep in here. What if I need to change or something? Plus you snore so bad, I can always hear you on the other side of the wall at home”, you say in frustration. He blinks a couple times and pulls something out of his bedside table.

“Got it covered! If you need to change I will just leave. The bathroom also isn’t attached to the room so you can get ready and everything in there. Why are you freaking out, it's not like we haven’t lived together before”, he says, holding nasal strips and rustling your hair. He throws the strips back onto the side table and goes to exit the room.

Before he leaves he turns to you and says, “I’ll give you some privacy to put your things away, you can put your stuff in the other dresser. Come out here when you are ready.” He proceeds to leave the room. You can’t believe he would be okay with sharing a room like this. I mean, you did live together but never shared a room until now. A part of you is excited but nervous. You push your nerves aside and decide to unpack.

After putting all your things away in the dresser you head to the bathroom. After turning on the light you notice he has made space for you to put your things on the counter. Your heart melted thinking about him preparing for your arrival, making sure you had space to put your things. But Caleb is just like that, he would do that for anyone because he is too nice.

To your surprise, Caleb has eliminated over half of the boxes already. All the kitchen stuff was put away along with his toiletries and living room things. Leaving only his stuff for his bedroom.

“Caleb, I was going to help you. Why did you do it all already? That was the whole point of me coming here.”, you ask him with a slight chuckle.

“Well I don’t want you to spend your whole time here just helping me unbox stuff. Come on, you can help me hang up my clothes in the closet”, he says while grabbing two boxes and taking them to his bedroom. You follow behind him like an excited puppy.

He places the boxes on his bed and rips them open with his bare hands, making the tape snap in half. He grunts then lets out a sigh when he does the second one. You can’t help but admire his strength and the way his arms flexed so naturally while opening the boxes.

“He thinks of you as a sister, stop thinking these things.”, your subconscious reminds you. You mentally try to push your thoughts away when Caleb snaps you out of them.

“Where did you go, pipsqueak? Start hangin’”, he states while handing you a hanger and a shirt.

You and Caleb quickly get the closet finished and he places his jeans, socks and intimates in his dresser.

“All done, now we can just hang out all weekend”, he smiles and places a hand on his hip.

“So basically you didn’t need my help at all”, you retorted and sit, on “your” bed.

He sits across from you on his bed and says, “Well if I asked you to just come out with me you would refuse so I had to come up with an excuse. You can’t deny me when I need help.” He smirks and places his hands behind him on the mattress as he leans back. His motion automatically makes his legs spread wider.

You roll your eyes but then suddenly remember something.

“I almost forgot, I got you a move-in day slash yay you got into college gift”, you say excitedly and start to dig in your backpack beside you.

“Oh? Let me guess, it's those apple candies that I love huh?”, he says leaning forward trying to peek into your backpack.

“Noooo, now close your eyes and NO peeking”, you say and he throws his hands up in defense.

“Alright alright”, he laughs and closes his eyes, placing his hands on either side of him on the mattress and leaning forward.

You dig some more in your bag and pull out a small box. You open it and pull out the necklace you bought him. A dog tag that says “When U come back” with a little apple charm attached to it. You smile and get up and move closer to him.

You lean down slightly to put the necklace on him. His eyes remain closed as you take a moment to admire his features. His face has the faintest of freckles and perfectly shaped eyebrows. His lips formed into a slight smile but also relaxed at the same time. You swallow and focus on putting the necklace around him. When he feels the weight of the dog tag on his chest he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay open your eyes”, you say just above a whisper. You are nervous, hoping he likes it.

He looks down and holds the dog tag in his hand examining it. He smiles to himself.

“I got a dog tag because I heard a lot of flight pilots wear them but I wanted to add something personal”, you say fidgeting with your hands.

“I love it, and it's your style too”, he smiles then looks up at you. He suddenly stands up, giving you barely any time to back up. He then pulls you into a hug.

“It’s perfect, thank you y/n”, he says into your hair. You hug his big figure back and smile.

“You’re welcome Caleb”, you say into his shoulder. The hug lasts a few seconds longer, then he pulls away.

“Alright, let’s go, my friend is excited to meet you!”, he says, grabbing his wallet and phone.

“You mean guy friend? Why do you never have friends that are girls, I never get to make new girl friend. You don’t have a girlfriend either.”, you say, pressing to see what he says.

“Girls just don’t interest me right now, just want to focus on becoming a pilot ya know? I’ll let you know if I ever get a girlfriend. Plus I have you, you’re all I need pipsqueak.”, he says laughing and rustling your hair again. There he goes, giving the same response as always and treating you like a little kid again.

“Come on, grab your things. Let’s go”, he smiles and makes his way to the dorm's front door. You pout and fix your hair from where he messed it up. You grab your backpack and your phone and follow Caleb.

The walk down to the lobby was quiet, not many words exchanged between each other. You catch Caleb looking at his necklace again, he must like it.

Once you reach the lobby Caleb walks to a table with one guy sitting with his attention on his phone until he sees Caleb in his sight. He waves Caleb down and you follow him to the table, the guy looks very familiar.

“Hey y/n, long time no see!”, the male gets up from his seat.

“Gideon! Oh my goodness, how have you been?”, you smile and he goes to give you a light hug. You hug him back and he scans you quickly.

“I’ve been good, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you?”, he smiles. Gideon has definitely changed since you last saw him. He is much taller than he was in middle school, and he was even tall back then. He definitely has built some muscle, not as much as Caleb though. He is wearing a black t-shirt with a blue and white jacket and some black jeans.

“I’ve been good, currently trying to get into the hunter’s association to start training and taking classes”, you tell him.

“Oh right you did want to become a hunter, you’re all grown up now”, he smiles at your dedication.

“So are you, look at your muscles dude”, you say pointing out his huge figure.

“Yeah I’ve been working out, trying to get ready for training. Wanna feel?”, he pulls his arm out of his jacket sleeve and flexes his arm. You reach out to touch his arm when Caleb grabs your hand.

“You reunite and the first thing you wanna do is touch his arm?” Caleb scoffs. You wiggle your hand out of his reach and reach your hand out to touch Gideons flexed arm.

“He offered.”, you retorted back at Caleb.

“Gideon, you are ripped”, you say, not believing how much he has changed.

“Thanks, I worked hard for it. But look at you, you grew into your features too. You’re so pretty”, he smiles putting his arm back in his jacket.

“Thank you”, you look down at the ground, feeling slightly bashful. You don’t get called pretty often, especially with Caleb around. It was nice to hear that from someone other than Gran.

“Are you two done flirting so we can go to the game room?”Caleb asks with arms crossed at his chest and tapping his foot, looking annoyed.

“Sorry, let's go!”,Gideon exclaims as you follow behind him. Caleb follows you both like a lone puppy.

You walk into the game room and there are so many things to do. It's set up like an arcade but they also have a pool table, ping-pong, table air hockey and more! You and Gideon start playing air hockey immediately. You are stunned at the amazing game room they have access to on campus.

You and Gideon have played a few games when you decide Caleb should have a turn. You hand Caleb the mini air hockey mallet and he turns his head away.

“You guys can keep playing, I’m going to go over there and shoot some hoops”, he says referring to the mini basketball game in the back of the room.

What’s his problem? You brush it off and continue playing with Gideon.

“Alright I’ll start”, he says and starts a new game. After hitting the puck back and forth a few times Gideon breaks the silence.

“So how are things with you and Caleb?”, he asks, continuing to pass the puck avoiding letting you get it in his goal.

“Fine I guess, what do you mean?”, you ask him, trying to figure out a strategy to get the puck in his goal and not yours.

“You guys are together aren’t you?”, he asks.

You immediately stop your movements and look at Gideon. He takes the moment to hit the puck into your goal, earning a point.

“Did he say that?”, you ask him seriously, Gideon catches on to your mood shift and sets his mallet down.

“Uh, well the way he talks about you I just figured. I guess I just assumed”, he says scratching the back of his head.

You turn your focus to Caleb who is shooting basketballs into the basket without missing a single one, His back flexing each time he throws one.

“No we're not, he sees me as a little sister”, you scoff and pick up your mallet again, looking away from Caleb.

“Are you sure about that? Maybe you should ask him”, he says, continuing to play the game.

You drop the topic not wanting to force him into an uncomfortable conversation. What did he mean by that? What does Caleb say when you aren’t around?

Another hour passes by and you all decide to call it a night. You said goodbye to Gideon and walked back to the dorm with Caleb without a word from him.

“Caleb are you okay? You’ve been really quiet”, you ask him.

“Yeah sorry, just tired from shooting hoops. You want something to eat? I can make you something”, he says but avoids eye contact with you. You try not to think too much about it and decide to let it go.

He made you all your favorite foods and his mood started to improve. You both talked about how his life will change now while he is away from home and how it will be weird not to see each other all the time; since he won’t be in linkon anymore.

“Alright go change and I’ll clean up here”, he says and you nod while getting up from your chair.

You head to the bedroom first to grab a pair of pajamas and stop in your tracks to see a photo of you and Caleb framed and sitting on his nightstand. It's obviously a silly picture but it warms your heart to see he cares enough to display it. You smile to yourself and make your way to the bathroom, you see Caleb doing the dishes as you walk by.

You start to change into your silk matching pj set. Pink shorts and pink button up top, you instinctively start to take your bra off like you normally do but stop yourself.

“It’s probably not appropriate to do that with Caleb in the same room.”, you thought to yourself.

You keep your bra on and just put the pj shirt on over it. You put your hair into a messy bun and brush your teeth. You wipe today’s makeup off and decide to head to bed. Once you exit the bathroom Caleb is not in the kitchen anymore. You head toward the bedroom and Caleb is sitting on his bed, phone in hand with grey sweatpants on and the shirt he wore from today still on.

After entering the room his attention turns to you, he pauses before he speaks.

He clears his throat and asks, “Are you going to be comfortable like that?”

“Huh?”, you ask softly and almost innocently. He looks away for a second, debating on whether he should ask. You realize what he means, he is referring to your bra.

“I just feel like I should keep it on, just for the weekend”, you say as you sit across from him on your bed in a criss-cross applesauce position.

“Don’t feel like you have to because of me. If you are uncomfortable I can face the wall or even go sleep on the couch”, he says standing up moving to grab his pillow and blanket.

“No no Caleb, you don’t have to sleep on the couch. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable if I didn’t wear one”, you say while looking at your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

“Come on pipsqueak it isn’t like I haven’t seen you stumble around our old house without one on before when you're half asleep in the morning. You would always come to get breakfast barely dressed while brushing your teeth”, he nervously chuckles.

“I sleep without my shirt on”, he says pulling his favorite shirt from the back collar over his head ruffling his hair a bit. You try not to stare at his finely toned body and look only at his face.

“See it's not weird or uncomfortable, just like old times. You’ve seen me without my shirt plenty of times”, he laughs and makes a silly face. He is trying to lighten the mood but all it does is piss you off.

It's not his fault he doesn’t have feelings for you. But it’s not your fault you have feelings for him either. This whole day has been a struggle to get through. Especially after what Gideon said, and he is still treating you like a little kid, you are sick of it.

“Fine then, i’ll take it off since it doesn’t bother you”, you say standing up and pulling your arms into your pajamas shirt to take it off underneath your shirt. You want to prove a point but you don’t want to show him anything.

“Wait, you can go to the bathroom if you want to change or wait and I’ll-”, he says frantically to try and stop you but you cut him off.

“Why? You said it's not weird. Just like old times”, you retort, acting like it's no big deal. You finally get your bra off and dangle it in your hand in front of his view.

“You’re right, much more comfortable. I’m gonna go to sleep now, goodnight Caleb”, you say and turn toward your bed and pull the covers over your body while facing the wall.

“Night pipsqueak”, he says in a soft tone. That fucking pipsqueak nickname, makes you more furious. He gets up and turns off the light but to your surprise he starts to leave.

“Why are you leaving?”, you ask him, in a somewhat sassy tone.

“Uh- I forgot to take a shower today, so I’m going to go take a quick one. You can go ahead and sleep, I'll be back, promise”, he smiles and closes the door to the bedroom.

You mentally roll your eyes and a few minutes later you can hear the shower head turn on. You are mentally struggling with all this. You shouldn’t be pissed off because Caleb is just being his sweet self and wants you to be comfortable but that's also what pisses you off. You want him to see you as a woman not a little girl. You want him to see you as you see him. Caleb is a man now; he’s not that little boy from your childhood anymore. You just wish he felt the same way about you.

The words Gideon said earlier are also haunting your brain. What did he mean by that? He thought we were together because of what he said? What is he saying about you? To be fair, people in highschool always thought you were a couple but then realized you lived together like siblings then brushed it off as him just being a protective older brother. You remember girls would swarm you to give him confession letters and gifts. That thought was just pissing you off more. You decide to try to get some rest to relieve the stress and frustration. Listening to the shower and pretending its gentle rain outside, helping you drift off into slumber.

THE NEXT DAY

You wake up to the sun peeking through the window, shining right in your face. You scrunch your face as you slowly sit upright. You look over to see Caleb's bed made and him nowhere to be found. You sigh and decide to get changed in the bedroom, making sure to lock the door for Caleb's sake.

After deciding on your outfit of a cute white cami crop top, a yellow cardigan and a light wash denim mini skirt you leave the room. You make your way to the living area and to your surprise Caleb is asleep on the couch with a couch pillow and a blanket on top of him, with his shirt on.

You make your way to where you are standing in front of him and scoff. Your mood is already in a sour state. You look at him for a second and flick his head.

“Ow-“, he says in his deep morning voice, taking a second to realize you were standing in front of him.

“Oh, mornin’ pipsqueak”, his yawn turning into a small smile while he looks up at you.

“Why didn’t you sleep in your room last night?”, you ask, getting straight to the point. He slowly sits up before answering your question.

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep so I came out here and watched some TV, must have fallen asleep on the couch. Whoopsie”, he says, rubbing his eyes and then stretching. It’s hard to be annoyed with him when he looks this cute in the morning.

“Weren’t you going to show me around campus today?”, you asked him.

“Oh yeah, let me get changed real fast then we will go”, he jolts up and jogs to his room. You wait on the couch while he gets changed. A few minutes pass and he emerges from his room wearing blue jeans, a white muscle shirt and a black baseball cap. Sunglasses and phone in hand with the necklace you got him still around his neck.

“You ready?”, he asks and you nod in agreement. You honestly are excited about the little tour because this campus is amazing.

You both decide to walk around instead of driving to get the full student experience. He shows you the cute park with a small fountain placed in the middle of campus. He proceeds to show you the runway you admired yesterday and even lets you get into one of the jets. Him sitting in the pilot seat and you as the co-pilot. He shows you the infamous movie room, it looked like a legit movie theater with a popcorn stand and everything. He takes you around campus all day but not without taking some selfies and cute pictures of each other in all the locations.

“You want to eat at the cafeteria? I’m starvin’”, he asks and you agree, all the walking has made you both super hungry.

You both walk into the cafeteria and grab a table. You sit down and Caleb hands you his phone.

“Here, pick out some cute pics we took so I can post them. I know you like to pick them out yourself. I am going to order for us”, he says before he quickly makes his way to the lunch line.

Before you can say anything he is gone. You decide to scroll through the photos you guys took together today.

You smile as you send a few to yourself. He looks so adorable today and you both look so well together, especially the selfies were admirable. You exit out of the main album and scroll and see an album listed “her”’with a red heart emoji next to it . For a second your heart drops, was he lying about not having a girlfriend? Upon your better judgement you open the album and it's flooded with pictures of you.

The album has fairly normal pictures of you but when you press on one you see a small note section at the bottom. The first one saying, “she looked so pretty today”. You scroll left and the next one reads, “she doesn’t know how beautiful she is”. Many more photos like that with comments underneath them just as sweet. Your peeping gets cut short when Caleb walks back to the table and sets your tray of food in front of you.

“Bon-appetit”, he smiles at you but all you can do is stare at his phone.

“Whatcha lookin at?”, he asks and then sees what you have been doing. His eyes widen, like he has been caught. He looks at your face then back at his phone before he snatches it out of your hand and locks it.

“You shouldn’t snoop”, he says, frantically placing his phone face down on the table.

“What was that album supposed to be Caleb?”, you ask as he tries to ignore you by putting a fry in his mouth.

“It’s nothing pipsqueak, you better eat before your food gets cold”, he laughs it off and continues to eat his food.

You have reached your limit with him. You just want to go home, you are sick of the deflecting. You just want to leave all this confusion behind and get away from here.

“I’m not hungry anymore”, you say as you stand up to leave. Moving away from the table you head toward the exit.

“Wait, y/n”, Caleb shouts as people give him weird looks for shouting in the dining hall. He picks up the trays and throws the food away before running after you.

You make your way toward the dorm rooms and up to his dorm before Caleb can catch up to you. You were infuriated, walking at a fast pace.

You make it to his dorm but realize you have to wait for him to open the door. Suddenly the elevator doors ping and out comes an out of breath Caleb.

“Open the door”, you demand and he does without a question. He knows you are pissed now.

“I’m gonna pack my stuff and get a taxi to take me home. I’ll be out in 20 minutes”, you say to him making your way to the bedroom to grab your stuff.

He quickly follows behind you and shuts the door.

“Wait, I’m sorry I-. Are you mad about the photo album?”, he asks nervously. Putting his hands through his hair.

“No.”, you answer rather short. You grab your duffle bag and start to pack the things from the dresser into the bag.

“Then what's wrong? If it's something I did wrong I can fix it. Just please don’t go pipsqueak”, he says, his voice starting to break at this point. You pause your rage packing and turn to face him. His expression worried and eyes glossed over.

“It’s exactly that Caleb, it’s treating me like I’m still a little kid all the time. I just can’t take it anymore. You only see me as this helpless little sister figure that can’t protect herself. I am a grown woman now, I have feelings and I don’t like being treated like a child”, you confess to him. His face turns from worried into confused and flustered .

“I don’t understand what you mean?”, he says quietly, genuinely trying to piece it together.

“The nicknames, the head pats, the deflecting. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t see you as my little crush I had as a kid, I see you as a grown man who has this new life and I wish he would see me differently than the little kid from his childhood. I want him to see me as a woman. Then I saw those comments under those photos of me and I am so confused and frustrated. I don’t know what to do anymore so I have to leave.”, you finally confessed. You don’t have anything left in you, you have laid it out all on the line. You start to pack again and you get interrupted buy Caleb grabbing your wrist holding the clothes. There was no breaking free. He started to walk toward you, moving slowly until your back met the wall. You try not to gasp by the sudden contact.

Caleb placed both of his hands on either side of your head, his body towering over you as he looked down at the ground.

“You think you're frustrated? I have been in agony for years”, he replies back, his voice suddenly deeper than before. He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze.

“Day after day I have had to push my thoughts and feelings away because I wanted to be a guy you could rely on. I wanted to be your rock, someone you could be comfortable around and trust. If I couldn’t have you, I could at least be that right?”, he says, breathing ragged and your heart starts to flutter.

“Caleb-“, you whisper but he moves in closer, his face just inches away from you.

“I tried to be the gentleman, pushing my thoughts and desires aside for you. Having to watch you everyday and pretend I didn’t see you in that way was the most painful thing that could ever happen to me. I thought moving here and going to college, not seeing you everyday would help me come to terms with it. Not seeing you everyday wouldn’t be as torturous.”, he says, you can’t believe what you are hearing.

“But now, now you want me to forget all of that. You want me to see you the way I have always seen you. Beautiful, smart, strong-willed, brave and incredibly stunning. I asked myself, what would you think of me? Would you leave me? Would you think I was a creep? Would you abandon me?”, he exclaims. You take your hand and place it on his cheek, his features softening a bit.

“What am I supposed to do now, hmm? Do we forget everything we said and go back to pretending? Or are you going to abandon me?”, he asks, genuinely he is terrified of your answer.

“I would never abandon you Caleb but I am done pretending”, you say looking into his eyes, the once soft purple color turned into a deep violet.

He takes a moment to look at you and then down at your lips then back up to your gaze.

“Y/n if we do anything there is no going back. No more pretending to be innocently tied to each other. I can’t go another second knowing what I know now. This is your out.”, he says looking at you with desperation. Hands that were once spread beside your face now clenched.

“I don’t want an out. I just want you, only you, it's always been you”, you place your hand from his cheek to behind his neck and play with the strands of hair there.

That's all it takes before he crashes his lips against yours. Moving his hands and wraps them arounds your waist, pulling you insanely close to his chest. His lips were exactly how you imagined it, soft with a hint of mint from his lip balm he always uses. His lips in perfect harmony with yours, he deepens the kiss, it feels desperate and hungry. He licks at your bottom lip to ask for permission to enter, which you grant him. He doesn’t come up for air once and walks backward until you both meet his bed as he sits down and pulls you into his lap, your thighs on either side of him.

You take the moment to pull away for a second trying to catch your breath.

“Sorry, I’ve just been waiting so long to do that, you have no idea.” he says, kissing your cheek and making his way down your jaw line.

“I think I could guess, since I’ve been waiting too”, you smile when you feel him smile against your skin between kisses. His mouth makes its way down your neck, basking in the feeling of him leaving marks behind you let out a soft moan.

After hearing your sounds he wants you to do it again and again and again. After his torture on your neck he licks a stripe from your sweet spot up to your ear where he gives it a little nibble.

“All this time wasted, when I could have been touching you like this”, he says breathlessly as he helps you lift your cami top off along with your cardigan.

You gasp at his words, after leaving you topless, you help him take his shirt off as well. He throws his hat across the room, leaving his top half with only his necklace on.

You take a moment to admire his figure and experimentally drag your index finger from his becks all the way down the middle of his toned abs and just below his belly button. His skin warm to the touch and his chest rising and falling rapidly. You see his bulge from his blue jeans, before you can reach for if he grabs your wrist.

“Pipsqueak, are you sure?”, he says looking at you one last time to get your consent. You think it's sweet how he keeps asking but you want him to pounce on you already.

“Yes, enough with the pipsqueak”, he tell him and he smirks.

“Okay baby”, he says as he grabs your cheek and merges your lips together once more. He grabs your back and switches positions to where you are lying underneath him on the mattress.

“You are so stunning”, he says, kissing your collarbone all the way to your shoulder. You have goose bumps all over your skin from his mouth. Moving your fingers through his hair you sigh. You can feel your arousal in your underwear starting to pool. You need him desperately.

“Caleb please, I need you”, you moan. Caleb moves back to your neck, licking and sucking at your sweet spot.

“I want to savor this moment, I don’t know when I’ll get another chance like this again”, he says against your skin. He moves away from your neck and looks into your eyes and then to your chest.

You grab one of his hands and place it over your still covered breasts and squeeze his hand giving him the okay to touch you.

He reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra after a few seconds and throws it across the room somewhere. He focuses back on your chest. Giving one of your breasts a gentle squeeze. The feeling of his big hands kneading, earning a little whimper from you. Your breasts fitting perfectly in his hands he starts to knead the neglected one. Your hand finds place in his soft hair once again as he kisses his way down from your chest to your abdomen to the area just above where you need him most.

He settles himself between your thighs once he lets go of your breasts. Pinching your nipples before letting go, causing you to gasp.

He looks up at you from his position looking for approval.

“Caleb, I haven’t done this before. I’m a little embarrassed”, you confess, you know you can tell him anything but this is all new to you. This is the most intimate you have ever been with anyone. But he knew this, this was his first time too.

“Don’t worry, we can stop if you want to, just tell me at any time, okay? Don’t be afraid to speak up, you trust me right?”, he asks you, eyes peering up at you from the waistband on your denim skirt.

“Yes Caleb, I trust you. Please touch me, do anything”, you beg him, squeezing his hand.

“Don't worry, I’ll make you feel good baby girl”, he says while unbuttoning and unzipping your skirt. He slowly drags it down your legs along with your panties in one motion.

The hot environment hitting your now completely bare body and Caleb pauses to admire you.

He scans you entirely, making you bashful and wanting to hide yourself. You go to close your legs but Caleb puts his hands on your knees and spreads them back open.

“Don’t get all shy on me now. Let me take in all of you”, he says as he is trying to process seeing you bare for the first time, all for him. This makes his dick twitch in his pants and he grunts trying to calm himself down. He wouldn’t live it down if he came in his pants before he had the chance to feel you around him.

He positions himself between your legs once again, Kissing from your knees and slowly up to your inner thighs.

The anticipation is killing you, you need him to touch you, to do anything.

“Please Caleb, need you so bad”, you beg and make eye contact with him.

He wastes no more time and gives your inner thigh one last kiss. He positions your thighs on his shoulders and leans down, placing a gentle kiss to your clit.

You gasp finally feeling the contact you have been craving. He has barely done anything but you tug on his hair because of how good it felt.

He groans and lets his tongue explore your heat. Licking and sucking between your folds and going back up to your clit to give it a gentle suck.

You try to close your legs around his head because of how intense the pleasure is but his strong arms keep them spread open for him.

“Oh my god Caleb-“, you moan a bit louder as you move your hands in his hair. Trying to find leverage of some sort.

His tongue works its way to your hole, thrusting in a few times, making your arousal pool out of you. You are unbelievably wet and his warm slick tongue is making a mess of you.

“Ugh more, more please Caleb”, you moan out. He moves his mouth backup to wrap his lips around your clit to give it another suck while he inserts an index finger into you. Your body jolts up from the mattress causing your back to arch and your nails to dig into his sheets.

“Fuck, don’t stop”, you moan and tug at his hair again, He moans against you causing a vibration on your clit and making you lose your mind.

He starts to kitty lick your clit while he inserts a second finger, making sure to do a scissoring motion to help stretch you out for him.

The feeling is new but feels so so good. You close your eyes and start to grind into Calebs face. He moans into your heat again and you are almost to your limit.

“I’m gonna cum”, you warn him. He sucks on your clit again and moves his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace.

“It’s okay baby, cum for me”, Caleb says against you, giving your clit a few more licks before sucking it harshly one more time.

You moan loudly as you come undone on his face. Caleb doesn’t stop and works you through your orgasm. Making sure to relish in your taste before you come down and he pulls away.

He positions himself over you again looking down at your fucked out face.

“Was that okay?”, he asks, remains of your orgasm still on his chin. You take a moment to wipe it off of his face and pull at his necklace so he leans down to kiss you. Your lips move more in sync together, this kiss filled with more passion.

You break away and say, “it was perfect, but I need you inside of me.”

Caleb stands up and pulls down his jeans and boxers. His length fully hardened to the point you think it's probably hurting him. His dick super red with veins popped out along it. He ignores your gaze on his dick when he realizes something.

“Y/n I don’t have a condom. I don’t keep them because I don’t need them but now..”, he trails off.

“It’s okay, we can do it without one. I have an IUD for my periods remember and we are each other's firsts so”, you mention to him.

“You’re right..oh fuck”, he sighs realizing his first time with you will be raw.

He moves back on top of you and locks his lips with yours again, lowering himself to where his dick is settled on your folds. He takes the base of his cock and drags it into your folds collecting your arousal and slick from your previous orgasm to lubricate himself.

“Y/n I don’t think I’ll last long. You feel so good”, he says gripping the sheets beside your head.

“It’s okay, I won’t either”, you giggle and he slightly chuckles into your neck.

“One second, lift your hips up”, he says as he grabs a pillow from beside your head and places it underneath your hips.

“I heard this will make you feel better and hopefully not hurt as much. I prepped you so it shouldn’t feel as painful as it would without it”, he says going back to rubbing himself between your folds, his tip touching your clit making you moan into his mouth.

“When did you learn all this?”, you ask him, feeling him align his tip to your entrance.

“Online, I wanted to be prepared if the day were to ever come, I just didn’t think this would actually happen”,he states, giving his length a few pumps.

“Please Caleb, need you”, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m gonna go slow, tell me at any point if it hurts too much and I’ll stop alright?”, he asks. You nod but he doesn't do anything yet.

“I need to hear you say it y/n”, he states firmly.

“Yes Caleb”, you say while kissing his cheek.

He smiles, “good girl”.

You feel him slowly push his tip in, causing both of you to groan.

“Fuuck”, he drags out his moan, burying his head into your neck.

“Keep going”, you moan and he starts to move inside of you, taking him in inch by inch.

“You are doing so good, my good girl”, he says, kissing your neck.

You wrap your legs around his waist causing him to slip into you completely. Burying himself inside and his tip touching your cervix.

“Y/n”, he moans into your ear. You can’t believe how deep he is inside of you, You can feel every vein of his dick sitting snugly in your core.

“You okay?”, he manages to slip out between moans.

“Yes, you can move now”, the stretch was just uncomfortable at first but now seems okay.

He waits for a few more seconds, he pulls out and gives a slow thrust back in. Causing you both to moan.

“Oh fuck y/n, you’re so tight”, he moans right next to your ear. You slightly scratch at his back causing him to whimper.

“Faster, I can take it”, you urge him on. He lifts his head and gives your forehead a kiss.

He begins to move his hips faster and a bit harder. Both of your bodies are moving along with your hips.

“yes, oh my god don’t stop”, you palm at his back, reaching for something to hold onto.

“You feel so good baby, squeezing around me like this. Had to take a cold shower last night because of you; after that little stunt you pulled. I have to admit, you’re so sexy when you’re mad”, he begins to thrust faster, getting a rhythm down. You squeeze around him again, earning a groan from him.

“How am I not supposed to see you everyday after this huh? I need you by my side, every minute of every day. It’s like I crave you.”, he says grinding his hips so deep he finds your g-spot. You practically scream his name. He smirks and starts angling himself in that spot so he can hit it everytime, making your vision blurry.

“And now that I finally got a taste, I don’t think I can stop”, he looks into your eyes as he fucks you into the mattress. Bed squeaking and the echoes of where your bodies are connected make your cheeks blush.

“I’m cumming, I-I’m cumming Caleb” you gasp, unable to tell what's reality anymore as he continues to tell you sweet nothings.

“Cum for me baby, wanna feel you come undone around me. Let me see how beautiful you are when you cum, just for me, only for me”, he says kissing your ear.

That's all it took for you to cum around him. Your body shaking from the intensity, scratching Caleb's back, definitely leaving marks all over. Caleb kisses and fucks you through your orgasm and pauses his thrusts when he cums.

He watches you come undone and he shoots his seed into you while you contract consistently around him. Throwing his head back as he has the most euphoric moment in his life, and sharing it with you.

After a few final thrusts back into you, milking him for all he’s got; Caleb practically collapses on top of you.

You both are dripping sweat, you can feel how wet his hair is as his head is resting on your chest. You both stay silent but it's a comfortable silence. You play with a few strands of his hair and rub the back of his neck.

“I love you”, you hear him say just above a whisper. You’re heart melting hearing him say it in a romantic way for the first time. He raises his head to look up at you.

“I mean it y/n, I love you so much. I have loved you for so long, I can’t even remember anything before you”, he confesses. You stroke his face and he leans into your palm.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know”, you reply. He leans in to kiss you and this one felt different. It was soft but had a meaning behind it, feeling loved by him.You break away and you both let out a giggle.

“We should probably get cleaned up. You wanna take a shower with me?”, he asks you with his eyes focusing on yours. He looks like a golden retriever waiting for a treat.

“I guess as long as you won’t be weird about it”, you tease him.

“Y/n, I literally was inside you 2 minutes ago, I think we are past that now dontcha think?”, he laughs. You swat at his shoulder but he grabs your hand and places a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up”, he says, getting off of you and holding out his hand. You take it but immediately get swept off your feet.

“Caleb!”, you shout and he laughs, he is holding you bridal style and starts to carry you to the bathroom.

“I don’t want you to have to walk until you are clean. Now hop in, I will get some towels ready for us”, he states letting you get warm under the water as you step past the glass door and into the shower.

He quickly joins you after setting out a change of clothes and towels for each of you for when you get out. When he steps in he immediately starts to help you by washing your hair, applying shampoo and conditioner and even lathering your body with soap. He takes a washcloth and helps you clean between your legs and your inner thighs. You do all the same things but repeat it to him. He leans down so you can lather his scalp with conditioner. After you both are clean he helps dry you off with a towel and wraps your hair in another one.

You both get changed into your pajamas and he offers to blow dry your hair, like he always does.

He admits to you that he used to love it because it was the only thing he could do to get close to you.

After finally getting comfortable you both head back to his bedroom.

“Oh, I should probably put my sheets in the washer downstairs”, he says as he pauses mid step.

“Ah, I’ll do it tomorrow, if they stain then they stain” he laughs.

“Caleb oh my god, you need to go wash them”, you tell him.

“No, it's too far and I wanna lay here with you anyways.”, he says gesturing for you to lay down in “your” bed first.

You get in and lay down and caleb joins you soon after. He lays down facing you as he wraps his arms around your figure and looks down at you.

“So this may be silly but I feel I still need to ask”, he chuckles as he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“What is it?”, you question him, butterflies going crazy in your stomach having him hold you like this.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”, he asks you softly.

“Caleb, I feel like that was pretty obvious”, you giggle at his soft face.

“I know it's silly but can you just say it”, he asks again. Him wanting reassurance from you.

“Yes Caleb, you can be my boyfriend”,you say as you hide your face in his chest.

“Am I still dreaming? Pinch me please”, he says and you pinch his nose in response.

“Ouch, that actually hurt pipsqueak. Oh wait, can I not call you that anymore?”, he asks with a little bit of sadness in his voice.

“You can’t call me that on dates or in the bedroom, other than that it’s still okay. But no head pats, I don’t want to be treated like a kid anymore”, you say firmly.

“That's going to be a hard habit to break.”, he says while rubbing his temple.

“Everytime you have the urge to do it, replace it with this”, you suggest as you lean up and kiss his soft lips. The peck doesn’t last very long and when you pull away Caleb’s cheeks are left with a tint of pink.

“I could get used to that”, he says and leans in to give you another peck.

The night ends with you both falling asleep in each other's arms. Except Caleb forgot to put a nasal strip on so you got to hear his snoring all throughout the night.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

a/n: hi, i think i like this one waaaaayy better than the previous zayne one. what did you guys think? I think I did well encapsulating his character :) Sylus next perhaps??

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[peachpitfics]

Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you. 

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

--------------------------------------------------

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

do you have any advice of where to start reading wh40k? I played rogue trader and really enjoyed it, but there are so many books and tbh i don't trust the taste of reddit dudes

In my opinion, there is a very clean selection of starting/beginner choices for people wanting to get into 40k.

First, very simply, stay away from the Horus Heresy series unless you specifically want to know about the Horus Heresy. It's over 50 books long and prone to being disjointed. Moving on! (Recs under the cut)

The best two starter series are, with almost universal agreement, the Gaunt's Ghosts series by Dan Abnett, and the Ciaphas Cain series by Sandy Mitchell. Both follow the exploits of Commissars (disciplinary officers) embedded in the Imperial Guard. The former is fairly gritty, very ground-level, and delves strongly into what it's like being regular people in a wider war and the way people in those situations behave and live their lives. The latter is lighter in tone and more episodic, with the titular Cain running into most other factions within the setting whilst really wishing he wasn't there. There's still plenty of awful shit happening, of course, but it's dressed up in a more camp/humourous perspective. I would recommend both series, with priority going to whichever sounds more inviting for you personally (tonally heavy, or something more relaxed).

If you're interested in the sort of party/group dynamics in Rogue Trader, I would also suggest the Eisenhorn and Ravenor series by Dan Abnett. Eisenhorn follows the investigations and adventures of an Inquisitor (Gregor Eisenhorn) and his retinue, and Ravenor actually ties into it, being about a former acolyte of Gregor's (Gideon Ravenor) who is a powerful psyker and inquisitor in his own right, with his own retinue. The only caveat I will give is that the first Eisenhorn book is quite old, and so can feel a bit dated/off kilter with its portrayal of setting elements.

If aliens are your thing, I recommend the Infinite and the Divine by Robert Rath. Extremely fun, extremely well-written book featuring the millennia-long feuds and hijinks of a pair of Necrons (undying alien robots). If your interest in Necrons is kicked off by this book, I suggest reading the Twice Dead King duology by Nate Crowley to really dig in to Necrons as a faction.

Perhaps you want to read about Space Marines! The best starter book for them is Spear of the Emperor by Aaron Dembski-Bowden. Great for looking at how different astartes behave, how similar they can be despite their differences, and how they view/interact with humans.

If Chaos Space Marines have you interested, Night Lords: The Omnibus (Also by Aaron Dembski-Bowden) is the best intro book to them. It follows the lives and exploits of a group of heretic astartes (and their humans) and show off why they're terrible people, but still not devoid of complexity, humour and sympathetic elements.

There are, of course, other books I could recommend, depending on the specifics of what you want. BUT, if you are just starting out and want to familiarise yourself with things, comfortably expand your understanding of the setting, feel out what you do and don't like, I think this list should have you pretty well covered.

[ghost-proofbaby]

SIMPLE. (astarion ancunin x afab!reader)

based upon this request by @leahthesith: you've grown tired of astarion's games of jealousy, and it all comes crashing down one night when he chooses to spoil your fun with shadowheart.

warnings: mentions and allusions to astarion's past, as well as his sexual trauma. biting. lots, and lots, and lots of biting. oral sex ('f' receiving), smut. reader is not explicitly gendered/no pronouns are used. only a brief comparison of a 'schoolgirl crush'. reader has also had almost romantic interactions with several companions. 18+ - minors dni.

wc: 7.4k+

kinktober masterlist

There’s no reason for him to be looking at you like that. 

No explanation, no justification, no reason for those jewel eyes to be glowering at you from across the tavern. For his fist to wrap around the mug of whatever he’s sipping on for show, pale skin going translucent in the dancing candlelight. For his entire chest having gone still the last several minutes, and for you to be unable to decipher if he’s simply too distracted to bother with the last of what remains of his living instincts or if it’s another instinct all on its own – if he’s holding his breath as he watches your conversation with Shadowheart.

Then again, there’s no real reason for you to be watching him back. 

The matter of the fact is that you’re watching him just as closely, just as captivated by his presence from across the room, just to simply notice these things. The stillness in his shoulders and the glint that you swear must be his fangs poking past his lips should not be in your periphery. Your focus, all your attention, should be on the vibrant girl on the stool beside you. The dark beauty who’s speaking more with her hands than her lips, giggling over yet another glass of wine. 

“You know,” she sighs wistfully, and you have to tear your gaze away from where it had wandered towards the vampire currently sulking away from the group, “The wine here in the city is much better than on the road.” 

You hum as you distractedly take a sip from your own glass, tongue immediately peeking out to trace along your bottom lip subconsciously, as if you might be trying to savor the flavor. As if you can even taste the flavor. Your tongue has gone all but numb to the ruby liquid as a very different shade of red has captured your interest. 

This could be the same wine from the druid party at the beginning of your journey, the party in which you snatched a bottle from the very shadow that is watching your every move, and you wouldn’t know the difference. 

“It is,” you lie, swirling the red liquid a little bit, an attempt to bring back the taste all over your tongue. 

And even if she buys your lie, Shadowheart can tell something is off, leaning in just a bit closer, peering at you just a little more concerningly, “Is everything okay? You don’t seem yourself.” 

You don’t feel yourself. You should be feeling much more jubilant. You should be joining in on the same fun everyone else is having, toasting to yet another battle won. The end of it all was so close you could taste it. 

And yet, you don’t. Because he’s in the corner brooding, and with him he’s seemingly taken both your mind and your mood. 

“It’s been a long day,” It’s been one long day after another for months, it seems, “I suppose the wine is just making me relax a bit too much.” 

That it is. The alcohol has managed to wiggle its way into your bloodstream, heading straight up your spine and to your brain. All your thoughts feather at the edge, and perhaps that was why you were watching Astarion back so intensely. 

Months of this journey, and you still felt no closer to figuring him out than you had that very first night of discovering his vampirism. Each layer of him that you had peeled back only revealed more confusion to sit with. Some days, you swore you had him entirely figured out. You knew every in and every out of all his wits, and you knew all the steps to the dance in which he’d attempt to draw you into. You could play into whatever design he was spinning between the two of you; you could beat him at his own game. 

But other days, days like today, you simply couldn’t. 

All his flirtations, all his subtle seductions – you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was still for show. For every innuendo he’d whispered into your ear, he shared just as scandalous a comment with another party member. For every seemingly accidental graze of his cold skin against yours, he was attaching himself at the hip of another one of your companions. For all he gave, he would take just as much. Leaving you spinning in the hope of it all; leaving you with a yearning hunger that probably neared the threshold of his own vampiric hunger. 

You want him. You hate him. He infatuates you. He irritates you. He is both sides of the same coin that has damned you every step along the way of this peculiar journey you’ve embarked on together.

“I know what you mean,” Shadowheart brings you back to reality with one swoop of her hair, a careful gathering of the locks to leave a shoulder exposed, “What is it that they always say? Wine is the secret ingredient for every bad decision?”

Your eyes trace carefully over her skin, the slope of where her neck meets her collarbone, the residual bruising leftover from the latest fight blooming beautifully over her. A welcome distraction.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard them say that,” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips, eyes still traveling. Up, up, up. 

Over the line of her jaw, across the curve of her chin. Pillowy bottom lip and softly rounded nose. Softness – she’s made up of all soft and delicate features, such a contrast to someone such as Ast-

You must stop thinking about Astarion.

You’re no longer asking yourself of it, you’re demanding yourself of it. You make a point to move your body and head carefully, positioning yourself just so that the outline of the confusing vampire on your mind is entirely blocked out by Shadowheart’s silhouette. 

“Oh, trust me – they say it all the time,” something simmers beneath Shadowheart’s returning grin, a sparkle in her eyes that should spark some sort of excitement in you. But it’s a hollow ache; you’re still painfully aware that he’s in the room, “Say, would you like to maybe… I don’t know, get out of here? I’m sure we could sneak some more of this exquisite wine to the room upstairs, perhaps find somewhere to relax together even more-” 

“Oh, my dear Shadowheart, don’t you know that that would be thievery?” 

His voice, so close and sudden, sucks all of the air out of your lungs. 

“Astarion!” Shadowheart jumps a bit at his sudden appearance, but you hardly move a muscle. As though your body had been expecting him, as if you had always known the night was leading to this outcome, “I’m surprised to see you’ve given up your gloomy act to join us all. I thought you might sulk in the corner all night.”

His eyes lock on you, and the facade of his usual self seemingly melts. There’s something darker beneath the surface, an animal caged away, and you can see it as it bares its teeth, “Not sulking. Merely observing.” 

You can’t speak. Your entire chest is still tight, lungs still deflated, by his proximity. 

“Well, hard to tell the difference when you hide away in the darkness,” Shadowheart manages to get out before her lips press tightly together, clearly irritated at your companion. 

She’d nearly had you. She had been giving you clear signals, doing away with any games of cats and mice, and she had nearly had you. 

“It’s in my nature, I suppose,” his tone falls flatter than normal, the words void of all the airiness and usual cadence he accentuates. 

He still has you far more enraptured than she’d ever stood a chance of accomplishing. 

“We were just heading upstairs,” you blurt out, and Astarion’s eyebrows raise at your proclamation.

“Is that so?” 

You don’t quite understand why, but you feel the need to over explain yourself, painfully aware of Shadowheart’s inquisitive gaze as she watches you fumble with your words, “Yes! I- I was just telling Shadowheart how tired I’ve grown. We were just calling it a night-” 

“By stealing a bottle of wine?” his tone is growing sharper, and you squirm beneath what has almost become a glare. In an instant, he’s noticing all that discomfort, and you watch the facade be built back up in real time. Brick by brick, he once again resumes his usual role, voice raising a few octaves and a dangerous smirk returning, “And stealing our dearest cleric away from such a wonderful night of celebration? Nonsense! Allow me to accompany you instead, my sweet.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue as naturally as it always does. Sugary syllables, predatory purring. It almost reels you in until you remember the give and the take. The push and the pull. 

Two sides, same coin. And you’ve yet to figure out the value of that coin. 

“There’s no need for that-” Shadowheart begins to protest, but Astarion quickly cuts her off with a flourish of his hand. 

“Please, I insist,” even with his words lightened, sweetened up the slightest bit, that animal still lingers below the tone. Shadowheart will not be accompanying you up to the room. That much you know. “You were clearly having such a good time. It’s truly no problem, I don’t mind watching after our fearless leader.” 

“I don’t need to be babysat,” you snap, reactive like a dog threatened. 

Like a dog cornered.

Yes, that was what you were. A rapid animal, backed up into a space, given no choice. Your heart was racing at the idea of being alone with Astarion. It was no longer a game of mental chess played across a busy tavern – it would be just you, just him, and all those terrible layers you had yet to decipher. It was a recipe for disaster. It was the perfect storm brewing, set for the destruction of you.

“I won’t be babysitting you, dear,” he smiles, and it looks more like a hungered sneer than a sign of genuinity, “Simply there, at your service, for whatever you may need.

I need you to leave me alone. I need our journey to be over so I can stop being your puppet to string along.

You wonder if the thought may have traveled over the tadpole bond and that was why his face falls, rather than your stubborn silence. 

For a moment, you think Shadowheart is going to speak up. That possibly, she might just fight back against him, save you from the impending doom. But when her mouth opens, you hear the last possible thing you could have ached to have fallen from her lips. 

“I… suppose I’ll be on my way then. Have a good night.”

Defeat. 

It wraps around your name as she whispers it before she stands from her stool, unassuming to all your silent signals begging her to stay. Footsteps echoing over the commotion around you as she turns her back, and you feel the walls of this corner drawing in on you. 

“I-” you start when you finally look back to Astarion, but he’s already reaching out to grab you. 

“She’ll get over it,” he says harshly, pulling you along as if you were nothing. As though you weren’t digging your heels into the creaking floorboards below, as if you weren’t resisting him with every fiber of your being. 

“Astarion- stop, I’m- I’m not worried about her,” you stutter out, cursing the way your voice falters, tugging against his grip on you, “Gods, why do you do that?” 

The question has him halting at the foot of the stairs. The shadows encase the two of you as his eyes glow in the subtle darkness. 

“Do what?” 

“This.”

You wave your free hand in the space between the two of you wildly, as though that might suffice for explanation. But when Astarion only levels you with a blank stare, you know it won’t. You know it doesn’t. 

“You pull me along, you push me away,” you continue, heart still racing wildly, breaths coming out short and fast, “You treat me like something special and then discard me, and the moment I seek out that genuine treatment from someone else, you’re back to collect me as your own personal play toy. I want to know why.”

For all the exasperation you feel, there’s a pride beneath it all. The pride of being able to articulate, the smugness of assuming you’ve left him speechless. You haven’t.

Today is not one of the days in which you can beat him at his own game. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he claims, chin lifting just an inch, eyes flitting towards the ceiling before making their way to the bar scene behind you. Anywhere but you. “I’ve done no such thing-”

“Bullshit,” you spit out, “Bull-fucking-shit. You’ve done it numerous times, Astarion. Do you not recall the night in which Gale had approached me, offering to teach me about the Weave, and how you’d interrupted-”

“Our dearest wizard would have bored you to death. It was a mercy to interject.”

“-or the night of the tiefling party, when Karlach had been on the verge of confessing something that seemed an awful lot like an admittance of liking me-”

“Karlach likes everyone. Have you seen the eyes she makes at Wyll?”

“-And how about the time when Lae’zel openly invited me to share a bed with her, and you’d overheard, and obnoxiously guffawed? Hm? What’s your excuse there?” 

Finally, his grip has slackened on your wrist, allowing you to pull both arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. Chest still heaving, mind still reeling. 

He clearly doesn’t have a very good answer as his lips twitch briefly into a pathetic smile, fading quickly as he shrugs, “Well, I simply found the entire image conjured amusing.”

Your heart nearly stops, leaving your chest as empty a cavern as Astarion’s, “You find the image of someone wanting me, wanting to lay with me, amusing?”

And for all he plays dumb, Astarion is not a fool. 

He catches the fall in your demeanor, the way your arms slowly drop and your entire face contorts with your frown. Damage has been done. 

“No, wait, I-” he tries to begin damage control, but the damage has been done.

“Save it,” you cut him off, “I’m going upstairs now. You can continue on your moping down here in the shadows – I don’t need a babysitter.” 

He almost looks as defeated as Shadowheart had when he’d intervened for a second, a second just long enough that you begin taking the long strides up the stairs. You think you’ve gotten the last word, for that eternity of a second. Making it all the way to the first platform, turning to take on the second set of stairs. 

When suddenly, your back is flat against the wall behind you, a cold body pressed against the entirety of yours. 

“I do not find it amusing,” Astarion huffs, those beady eyes suddenly staring right into yours, lips dangerously close to your own. The defeat has been long forgotten, “The image of you with the others – entranced by Gale’s magic, giggling by the fire with Karlach, on your knees for Lae’zel – is not amusing,” his hands are tight on your hips, bruising grip keeping you pinned with no escape. His body rolls, every inch of his clothed skin beginning to press against your own, “You, laying with anyone else, is the farthest thing from amusing, darling.”

His head tilts in warning, forehead nearly pressed to yours, the end of his nose bumping against yours. You can feel every unnecessary breath he takes. Every huff of his sudden irritation invades your space, and all you can do is attempt to turn your head. 

One of his hands is quick to reach up, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer. You want to look away, but he won’t allow it. 

“Would you like to know the truth?” 

A loaded question. A ticking time bomb when it comes to this game between the two of you. 

You decide to set the fuse aflame when you nod your stiff head against his pinching grip. 

“The truth is,” he takes a deep breath, one you know he doesn’t need. He’s sucking all the air out of the room, air he has no need for, before his heavy eyes pour into yours. You’re blinded, all visions of red and smoky warning signs, the chatter of the tavern faded to nothing, “the image of you laying with anyone else absolutely infuriates me.”

Anyone else. 

Anyone else. 

Anyone else.

You open your mouth to respond, not even sure what you could possibly say to that, but it’s Astarion’s lips on yours that kills all words on your tongue. 

There are no witnesses. Not a single soul below can see as he all but devours you, hungry lips melding to yours in desperation. The shadows he had been taunted for haunting for the night now serve as a veil, allowing you to cling to what’s left of your dignity. If anything, it feels as though he might be controlling the shadows, beckoning them to come and wrap the two of you up as his arm sneaks behind your back, pulling your body tightly to his as he chooses to steal the breath directly from your lungs now. 

The push, the pull – the coin. The value, it seems, is finally coming to light. 

Through the kiss, you can feel the damnation of all the emotions Astarion must have been holding back for the journey. All the want, all the yearning, all the anger, all the confusion – every single emotion you’ve been battling, breaking the surface as his fangs nip at your bottom lip. 

It takes more willpower than you’d expected to shove him away. 

“Astarion-” you gasp out, taking gulps of air into your burning lungs. 

“Tell me to walk away,” he begs, body still aligned with yours, hands still clinging to you, “Tell me to leave you alone, and this time, I’ll obey.” 

Your tongue can’t move. The depths of his whispers, his pleads, are ringing in your bones, and you can’t say the words he asks of you. 

“Say it,” he presses on, his fingers only digging deeper into your hips. You can’t tell if they’ve gone numb from the chill of his fingers, or from the lack of circulation due to his strength, “Just say it, and I’ll do it. Say anything. I’m yours to command.”

You should tell him to walk away. You should call off the game of cat and mouse. You should save what’s left of your soul for someone else, anyone else, who won’t send your head spinning with a plethora of mixed signals. 

“Room. Now.” 

Of course, you don’t. 

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion. 

And you continue to earn it as your hands tangle up in the snowy curls at the nape of his neck, silvery strands slipping between aching knuckles, lips attaching themselves to his porcelain skin as he guides you up that final flight of stairs. You’re not thinking of Shadowheart, not thinking of anything delicate or soft. Harsh clashes of teeth, harsh bites to rebuttal his fangs against you, harsh fingers digging into soft meat, harsh red lines left behind across his skin that fade away too quickly for your liking. 

Harsh, harsh, harsh. 

All your tensions and frustrations are put into the meshing, and you hardly notice once Astarion’s gotten the two of you through the threshold of the shared room. Everyone else is still downstairs, still celebrating, still cheersing and chatting away. Completely unaware of your demise. Oblivious to what’s about to happen.

Anyone else.

It’s been a long time coming. 

You can see flashes of it in your mind as he carries you with him, door locked behind his back before he’s finding one of the vacated beds to lay you down onto. The night you’d discovered his vampiric nature, the night you had been his mirror with his scars, all the times in which he’d blatantly saved your ass during fights. The blurry figure that is your savior, conveniently getting between you and goblins or shadows alike as he buries his daggers to the hilt. Always there, always watching.

Always yearning. 

Your heads sing in tune as that tadpole connection comes to life, like an exposed nerve as you feel it all reciprocated from him tenfold. Flashes of yourself, with soft eyes and gentle words. Patient palms and charming smiles. A pulling gravity so grandiose that it sparks sheer fear. 

The room is quiet save for your gasps every time Astarion’s lips leave yours long enough to allow for breathing, the ruffling of clothing and bed sheets filling the air soon enough. Just quiet enough you can hone in on that fear, dig your claws into it instead of his back, focused entirely on following it all the way down. 

More memories of his overriding yours. His exposure of Cazador, his admittance of his past. All the trust he put into you – all the faith he’d blindly handed over to you on a silver platter, only reminiscing and regretting once he was left to his own devices at the end of the day.

And then came the jealousy. 

You’d already felt enough of it through his kisses and movements – the way he pins your body beneath his, the way his fangs graze your exposed neck – but it nearly drowns you once the connection has opened the floodgates. 

The image of you and Gale, and a twist in your gut like no other. Incomparable to even vampiric hunger. 

The image of you and Lae’zel, and a burn in the back of your throat that drives you beyond reason. 

The glimpse of you and Karlach, and the urgency rising in your chest to simply stop it. To pull the brakes, not once considering the consequences. 

Every small moment between you and someone else – companions, strangers, those who have helped along the way – is given to you from Astarion’s point of view. You feel all that he has felt; you burn as he has burned. 

You feel a glimmer of understanding, a pitiful ounce of sympathy, but then you remember all that you have felt. All that confusion, all that unsureness. Every time you’ve had to question the glances the vampire offers in your direction or double back on his words. 

He’d done it to himself. You had to remember that – he’d done it to himself every single step of the way.

“You could have said something,” you whisper out as his lips travel down the path of your neck, sharp tips of his fangs pressing to your pulse but not quite breaking skin, “You could have just told me.”

He’s lithe as a cat above you, each scrap of clothing being removed between the two of you exposing more of your bare flesh to the chill of his. You can feel all those muscles beneath his surface, and you can feel the hesitation as you say this. The freeze – the pause. 

“You make it sound so simple.”

The fangs scrape at your jugular as he whispers it, mouth shaking as he uses all his self-constraint to not simply bite down. Taste your sweet blood, let it sing on his tongue rather than this conversation you can tell is setting fire to all his anxieties. He doesn’t want to talk.

You’re not even sure if you want to talk. 

But you do, with the weight of him between your hips and his hands dancing along your torso. Your head is thrown back as you sigh, “It could be.”

It could be simple, it could have been simple this entire time, if only he’d allow it. 

He’s had you dancing beneath his spell since the moment you’d met him. You had offered yourself over to him, time and time again, knowing all the costs. Despite the warnings from others, and despite all the sirens sounding off in your head every time your eyes had met his, you’d still pined. Still fantasized what this current moment might taste like as you’d lay in your tent at night, still chased after his attention across Faerun. If he had just directly said the word rather than stringing you along, burning in private – you would have been his far sooner than now. He could have had you in the palm of his hands long before he’d ever spotted the Gate of the city. 

He has you now, though. Entirely encapsulated, bending to every whim of his fingertips.  

A flick of his wrist, and you’re exposing more of your neck. A nudge of his knee, and you’re arching your back to press more of yourself against him. Offering your skin, offering your soul, offering your blood. A silent temptation for him to simply devour you whole; a silent begging to not complicate things more than what was necessary. 

You had both been in the wrong. He had sent mixed signals, and you had been complicit in your own silence. 

And right now, you weren’t particularly in the mood to rehash and reassign blame. 

“Show me how simple it could be,” his voice is muffled against your skin, lips velvet against your pulse. It nearly frustrates you – was that not what you were currently doing? Were you not proving to him just how easily he could unravel you with those cold, cold palms? “Go ahead, darling. Prove me wrong.”

You’re not the one meant to take an action, though. Your hands fly up, fisting at his white curls, and you apply pressure to let him sink deeper into your skin, but you’re not the one who can break the barrier.

It’s him that must – his fangs must do it. The first bite, the smallest of sips. 

Your blood trickles past his lips and you let out a sigh. As if this was what you were waiting for, as if this was all that it took. Your vitality draining slowly to invigorate him, your breath becoming his, your heart now beating for both of you. 

He must feel it. He must taste it. 

The simple entanglement of the living and unliving. How simple it was to become his.

You swear you only allow your heart to race as it does to encourage your blood to pump faster onto his eager tongue. He laps at it, hums at the taste, his grip on you becoming stronger with each pass of the ichor. Each passing second with his mouth glued to the side of your neck isn’t marked with the tick of a clock, but the roll of his hips, and your own desperate legs shaking in those precious moments between, cursed to choose between tightening shut around his hips or spreading wider to encourage more of him to occupy you. 

Just as you start to feel light-headed, he pulls back. Wide and vibrant scarlet eyes boring into yours, fangs tinged pink with you poking against his bottom lip. 

The tadpole connection has gone silent. Not due to either of you cutting it off entirely, but due to the lack of thoughts transpiring. Both your minds have gone quiet, and all that’s left is the warm buzz of knowing you’re connected. Static that you can feel at the back of your head, running down your spine, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

Simple. Mind-numbingly simple. 

You can feel the spark of something snapping after only a few moments of eye-contact, and you know it’s the ember that blazes within him as his next few actions transpire. Messy kisses leaving behind a trail of pink spit along your skin, hands no longer grappling at you mindlessly but with intention. He slips them between your thighs, a finger trailing down your cunt in time with his tongue down your sternum. What might be a memorized dance to him has become an entirely unknown experience to you, body buzzing with the novelty when his fingertip’s cool caress circles your clit before he slips down to your hole. It’s seamless – the stretch, the crook of his knuckle against you as he sinks deeper, the relief in the curl of your toes. 

“You’re not another mindless dance,” he murmurs as he sinks deeper and lower, an unnecessary breath escaping him across your lower abdomen. 

He’d heard it. He’d heard all of your thoughts at the moment. 

You peer down at the ethereal sight of him between your thighs, his hair and mouth seemingly shimmering with all the stars and moon itself, “No?” 

“No,” his voice is strong as he lets the tip of his nose press against you, mouth creeping closer to where two fingers now pump within you, “You’re not like the others.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, even as the haunting question of who the others might be echoes within you. He completely distracts you as his fingers slip from your cunt and his tongue begins its work, worshiping you with every flick of it. Nose, tongue, breath – they all work in conglomeration as the unraveling truly begins. Every ounce of you is tensing, combating all the relief of having his mouth on you, as he pushes you closer and closer to a precipice you’ve only dreamed of him guiding you to. 

The suckle of his lips. The cut of his fangs when he gets a bit too excited. The lap of a tongue like a dog worshiping at your altar. It’s all almost a bit much. 

When your hands travel to entangle in his hair, you can feel the hesitation. For a moment, you believe he might reach up to take your touch away. Force you to grasp at the bed sheets, at the edge of the mattress, at the frame above your head. Anywhere but him. 

But he doesn’t.

The pause only lasts a few seconds before he’s returning to his mitigations, even more intent than before. Words that could never be spoken between the two of you take the shape of his lips around your clit, sucking almost as hard as he had at your neck. An animal seemingly overtakes him, his mouth not leaving you for the mortal necessity of breathing, but rather for something harsher; he breaks away only for his fingers to slide back within you, and immediately takes to biting at your thighs. 

It isn’t like he had done to your neck. This time, he’s not chasing after your blood. Nips and fuller bites, not just his sharpened canines sinking into fletch but his front teeth as well. 

These aren’t bites to drink from you. These are bites to claim you.  

He lines your legs with them, scattered sporadically as he shifts himself up and down. From the apex of your thigh down to your ankle, there’s hardly an inch of your skin that doesn’t paint with Astarion’s touch. The bite marks, lingering outlines of his hands clinging to your flesh, patient hickies left throughout. 

You’re mine. 

The message is clear enough whether you had seen it in his actions, or if he had sent it through the bond. You understand well what point he is making. 

The point stands stronger and stronger when he works his way back up your body. He offers your hips the same worshiping treatment, leaves his imprints across your chest as well. A few marks brand your shoulders and neck, matching the two pricks that started this entire devourment. 

“Do you have any idea of the hold you have upon me?” he sighs out as he holds himself above your body, hovering just close enough that your skin jumps as the skin of his abdomen brushes your own, “Our entire journey, I have been so focused on… on freedom, on abandoning the concept of ever being controlled…” he trails off, and when he looks into your eyes this time, you can see something clicking into place. A fearsome realization. “Only to end up in the thralls of your beck and call.” 

You hold your breath and await the inevitable. This is the part where he runs. Where he removes his flesh from yours, where he jumps across the room and surely spits out some sarcastic remark. It’s the time in which he is meant to break all the hope that had been built over the minutes spent alone. He’ll make some nonchalant remark, or a crude joke, and he’ll go make eyes at some other poor fool below. He’ll cast his spell over someone else, anyone else. He’ll leave you, wanting and yearning and hopeless, once more. 

His body stays above yours, the thin fabric of space shaking between you two. 

With a trembling hand, warm against his skin, you take a chance, “I’m not your master, Astarion.” 

You aren’t. 

You have no desire to control him the way he describes. You would curse the day should you ever become something even comparable to being a placeholder for Cazador. He isn’t telling you anything new; you’ve known his end goal of this entire journey. Astarion has always wanted one thing and one thing only – freedom. 

And you thought you’d been helping him. Following him blindly through the woes, helping him achieve his ultimate goal wholeheartedly. Never for a single second had you assumed the role he’s seemingly given you. 

A short laugh escapes him, the smallest of smiles flitting his face, “No. No, you aren’t. And that only enthralls me further.” 

His lips descend upon yours in a fervent fashion, even more desperate than before. It feels as if he’s actually trying to devour you whole this time – it feels as though he might actually accomplish melding you into his existence, sinking you right into the marrow of his hollow bones. 

When his cock sinks into your heat, it’s ecstasy. Euphoria. Everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything you’d been hoping for. You stretch around him, just as you had his fingers, body eager to take in every last inch of him. The buzz becomes a roar and your entire body feels as though it might be on fire. You want more, you need more, and he’s more than willing to give it. 

More, more, more. 

His hips roll agonizingly slow against yours, making sure every movement is felt across every nerve ending within your body. Deep within your gut, down along your thighs, all the way up your chest. You feel him everywhere – he makes sure of it. 

Centuries, his voice curls through your mind like dark smoke.  For centuries, this body has felt tainted. Never quite mine, never quite clean. 

His hands are shaking as he lets them caress down your sides, over your hips, clinging for support. 

You take that feeling away. 

The words are heavy, the press of his chest over you heavier. Your own hands wander, and you make a point to avoid the scars on his back. The ones hardly deciphered, the ones that have tied him to a fate you refuse to let him succumb to. No amount of jealousy, no amount of spite, can reverse that ardent decision within your mind. 

You’re not an old coat, Astarion. You whisper it back, along the bond, your physical mouth gaping wide open as you tilt your head back into the pillow, feeling yourself tighten around him. You’re not a worn pair of boots. You’re a person. 

A terrible mon-

You cut off his rebuttal, a complicated person. Snarky, indecisive, too flirtatious for your own good. But still a person, and still worthy. 

Two simple words, and they send shudders through his entire body. Still worthy. You don’t look at him as something to be discarded or owned; you don’t envision him as a prize or a trophy. And you certainly don’t see only his flaws when you look at him. When his ruby eyes meet yours, both his and your own eyelashes flutter ridiculously as all the pressure mounts, the blush of your blood across his cheeks and running down his throat, you both know. You don’t need to put it into words.

Even when he infuriated you. Even when he made you second-guess his companionship in the beginning. Even when he made you swoon like a schoolgirl only to divert his attention. Never once have you fully faulted him for the mistakes. 

He’s done bad things. You’ve all done terrible things. And yet, you still want him. 

He’s worth more than the sum of his worst moments, even if he hadn’t bedded you tonight. You would still help slay Cazador. You would still fight tooth and claw for his freedom. 

You love him. You hate him. You hate to love him, you love to hate him. It’s all smoke and mirrors at the end of the day when you’re feeling the weight of him collapse on top of you. And it’s mutual. The complicated, infuriating emotions are all reciprocated. 

Every inch of your skin stings with the lingerance of his fangs and lips, gasps and mews slipping between your lips as he picks up his pace. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and hips in a failing attempt to pull your body back to his, the reciprocation languid in every stroke. Every slap of his skin against yours, every moan of his own – they mingle in the air and spell out the inevitability of this moment. You swear you feel his sharp nails nick you, a bead of blood no doubt bubbling and staining the sheets below.

You don’t care. He doesn’t, either. 

Your whine echoes through the empty room right along with a harsh grunt from him. He’s ravaging you. Bruising you inside and out. 

“Fuck, Astarion,” you gasp out, giving up using the bond. Your mind has melted far too much for coherent thoughts as both your breaths quicken, both abdomens tightening as you feel him reach even deeper inside your cunt, “Fuck.”

You can feel him letting go just as it feels as though your body might give out. Blissful soreness hidden behind a curtain of pleasure that turns your vision white. You almost wonder if your body had been simply a vessel for his own pleasure this entire time. 

You wouldn’t mind if it had been, but he’s made damn sure it isn’t. 

You’ve never felt quite as cared for as when his hips stutter, feeling warmth fill your fluttering cunt as his open mouth places random kisses anywhere they can reach. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel his tired lips pressing repetitively over your marked neck, your shoulder. They even graze the original bite mark, and the simple action sends shockwaves through you to join the rest of the residual quakes that keep your legs shaking around his waist. 

The bedlinen sticks to your skin from a mixture of blood and sweat as he collapses next to you for a moment, still curling up to you like a cat. Nose running along your bare shoulder, lips still reaching out for you. 

It takes you a second, but when you finally catch your breath, you can’t help but ask the dreaded question, “Does this mean you’re officially mine?” 

His chuckle is unexpected, vibrating against your chest as he rolls most of his weight off you and lifts his head, “Have I not made that much obvious?” 

“I just needed to make sur-”

He cuts off all your hesitation, lifting the entirety of his upper body now, “Allow me to make this very clear to you, darling. I have been yours since the moment you reacted to me holding a dagger to your throat with a damned headbutt.”

You smile sheepishly, “So you’re telling me when I did that… I knocked some sense into you?” 

“Never,” he scoffs, waving a hand, the only sign of his own fatigue to match yours being the way he drops back down at your side. You don’t miss the faint smile gracing his lips, “But it was an impressive move. Quite enchanting for this old heart of mine.” 

“So now you admit that you’re old?” you joke, prodding at an inside joke that had been ongoing since he’d admitted the entirety of his vampiric nature to you. He’d always pouted like a child at any mention of his age, but he’d always allowed only you to get away with any jabs at it. Your entire group still doesn’t speak of his reaction to Gale trying his hand at one of the jokes, “Goodness, what has gotten into you, my Star?” 

He flushes at the nickname, eyes diverting as he slowly creeps his body up the bed, face to face with you now. Your heart tightens a bit when he takes his time replying, swallowing hard, tongue peeking out instinctively as he runs it over his lips and fangs slowly. 

You almost believe he won’t look you in the eyes again, but he does. As he says the heaviest words yet, he looks to you as if you’re the only thing in the room for this moment. 

“I care for you,” his voice comes out tight, nearly strained. “Deeply. You make me want to be… a better… man, monster, whatever I might be. And if that’s a crime?” he pauses, and takes another one of those pesky deep breaths that you’re well aware aren’t vital to him. A glimmer of the human, the person, beneath the self-proclaimed monster. “Well, I haven’t been much of a rule follower thus far in our journey anyways, have I?” 

You pay no mind to his joking tone, seeing the words for what they are. Your hand reaches up, fingers carding through silver waves, and you can’t help your grin when he doesn’t swat you away as he had done Shadowheart for the exact same show of affection the week before. 

I adore you, Astarion. 

Quiet words. Silent words. Only for the two of you, within the confines of a shared mine. 

He clears his throat uncomfortably, “Mind you, I may need some time, given all the memories this wretched city brings-”

“Take all the time you need,” you interrupt. From the second he’d opened up to you, offering that vulnerability in the heat of the moment regarding his body, you’d seen this coming. “I can wait for you, my love. Let’s just focus on surviving all this, yeah?” 

He can’t hide his affection. It’s written plainly on his face, it travels clearly across the bond. 

“Yes,” he whispers back, reaching for your wrist finally, but only to hold it placid as he turns his lips towards it. You think for a moment he might bite you one final time, and you’d let him, but he surprises you. No fangs appear – only the softest of kisses against the most vulnerable of skin. “Survival. Of course.” 

It’s not so much words as it is an image, a promise, that comes to mind from him. The fluttering of a future he sees being possible, the threat of a city burned down should any harm come to you. 

“And no more jealousy,” you croak out, trying to not be overwhelmed by his own emotions mixing with yours. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Another kiss to your wrist, this one far quicker, far more habitual than the first. He’s kissing you simply because he can. 

You know there’s more behind his smile when he whispers, “Oh, of course, lover.” 

And you find out later on the reason for such a mischievous smile, once he’s cleaned you both up and migrated for you two to rest in his claimed bed. When Shadowheart is the first of the group to enter the room, confronted with the image of you curled up on Astarion’s chest as his fingers dance over your aching skin, you don’t even have to wake up properly to see the vision of a smug Astarion through your dreary eyes. 

Words are exchanged, but they’re lost to you in your sleepy state. You only catch the ones that matter. 

“Astarion! Are those bite marks-”

“Mine?” if you were any more conscious, you would have scolded him. He knows it, too, as he squeezes you closer to him, “Why, yes. Yes, they are, our dearest Shadowheart.” 

Shadowheart’s huff of breath tells you all you need to know about Astarion’s smirk. You’ll talk more of jealousy in the morning. 

[charchev]

Blue Lock boys meeting your younger sibling for the first time!

bllk x gn!reader

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi would approach the situation with his usual laid-back demeanor. He’d likely stay quiet at first, letting you do the introductions. If your younger sibling shows interest in gaming or something Nagi enjoys, he’d open up more.

If your sibling is shy, Nagi wouldn’t push conversation but might share something like, “Wanna play? I’ll let you win… maybe.” He’s not the most social, but his casual nature could make your sibling feel comfortable.

“This is fine as long as it’s not too much effort. They’re not bad, though.”

Reo Mikage

Reo would be warm and welcoming from the start, trying to make the best impression. He’d see your sibling as an extension of you, so he’d go out of his way to ensure they felt comfortable and liked him.

Reo would ask your sibling about their interests and might even have a small gift prepared in advance. Whether it’s a soccer ball, a book, or a treat, he’d nail the gesture. If they like soccer, he’d offer to teach them a few moves.

“I want them to like me—gotta make sure they think I’m the coolest.”

Sae Itoshi

Sae would remain polite but reserved, more focused on you than your sibling. He wouldn’t be unkind, but he might take a bit of time to warm up to them.

If your sibling idolizes him as a soccer player, Sae would indulge them with brief but thoughtful answers to their questions. He’d be slightly amused if they tried to impress him and might even give them a small compliment.

“They’re fine, I guess. As long as they’re not too noisy.”

Rin Itoshi

Rin would be visibly tense and unsure how to interact. He’s not great with social situations, especially involving kids or younger people. However, he’d make an effort for your sake.

Rin would probably stick to short sentences like, “Hi,” or “Nice to meet you.” If your sibling challenges him to a game or asks him about soccer, he’d reluctantly participate but might get overly competitive without realizing it.

“What do I even say? Don’t want to mess this up.”

Bachira Meguru

Bachira would be thrilled to meet your sibling and immediately treat them like a friend. His playful energy would make the situation fun and relaxed.

He’d start chatting with them as if they’ve known each other for years, asking about their favorite things and suggesting fun activities. If your sibling is shy, he’d find a way to draw them out of their shell, like making funny faces or telling a silly story.

“This is so much fun! I’m gonna make them my partner-in-crime.”

Alexis Ness

Alexis would be polite, charming, and composed when meeting your sibling. He’d see it as an opportunity to impress you by showing how well he handles family dynamics.

Alexis would ask thoughtful questions to get to know your sibling and would adapt to their personality. If they’re shy, he’d be gentle and encouraging. If they’re outgoing, he’d match their energy while still maintaining his elegant demeanor.

“It’s important I get along with them—they’re part of y/n’s world.”

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser would approach the meeting with charisma and confidence, treating it like a performance where he has to win your sibling’s favor.

He’d try to dazzle your sibling with his charm, cracking jokes and showing off (especially if they’re into soccer). If your sibling is unimpressed, he might pretend to be hurt, saying something dramatic like, “What? You don’t think I’m the coolest guy your sibling knows?”

“This should be easy—I’m great with people.”

i picked my favs to do this with so i may do a second part with more ^_^

[fafodill]

The exact wording of the ask I got was: 'what if someone was asking deprived!Snape (read my whole essay about him) to "break them off a piece of that KitKat bar?" How would they go about it?'

So today we're going to discuss this. Buckle up people.✨

SO his reaction will largely depend on the context and their current relationship but one thing that will happen FOR SURE every time before anything else is that he's going to think they're messing with him.

What else could it be? This man had been so heavily bullied as a teen his self-esteem is buried and has its own tombstone.

"Here lies Snape's self-image. Spit to pay your respect."

We don't have any canon proof of it happening but many people headcanon that some of the bullying might have been people being dared to come up to him and fake attraction or compliment him (so funny omg) only for him to realize they were just messing with him. It's totally the kind of immature stupid shit kids will come up with (speaking from personal experience here). Not funny but deeply scarring for one's self-image. So being told he's attractive would trigger him in his adult life. Any potential suitor asking him out would be welcomed with him immediately closing up and getting angry at them. They'd need to find a way for him to believe them first.

If you're thinking "this already sounds like a pain", yes it is. Welcome to deprived!Snape. Welcome to Snape, basically. If they want a piece of him, they have to brace themselves for the long run.

He will get angry and leave a lot. Fleeing the situation - since it's a very vulnerable subject for him - will be his go-to move. The whole ordeal will require patience. So what should this person do?

Friend or Stranger?

If it comes from a DE he'll think it's an angle. If it's from a member of the Order, he'll think it's a joke. If it's from a colleague at Hogwarts, he maaaay be a tad less suspicious? In any case, it will depend on how close they are. The more time they have spent together, the closer he'll be to not flip out... too much.

I'm a bit torn about his reaction if it was coming from a stranger. Either it's easier because he can lean into the idea that maybe they're lying about their attraction and he doesn't care (and if he's horny then why the fuck not, it won't affect him as much since they both now they're here for physical release) OR he might not be into it at all because he actually needs a real connection (and I think this is more realistic). Severus is a feral cat, he needs time to trust people.

What else? He could also maybe open up faster with someone not from his usual inner circles (a foreigner or a muggle) as the interactions wouldn't be charged with the same deep-rooted habits and expectations.

I also believe he'd unconsciously feel way more at ease with someone coming from a modest background. A pureblood aristocrat hitting on him would have little chance of getting past his natural distrust of them (unless he knows them very well).

So what should they do?

Build trust

The quality of their interactions and conversations will have a huge impact. Do they have an interesting personality? He needs someone capable of taking him on and keeping up intellectually. Can they keep up with him and challenge him?

Severus has a temper. Can they deal with his bullshit and not give up on him at the first scowl? Argue with him? It doesn't mean they can't be nice, but I don't see him get worked up over someone cowering under his gaze.

They need to be stubborn. He's a Capricorn and he's got the horns. He's hard-headed. They need to not back down when he bites or dismisses their attempts at flirting. One of Severus's classic tactic is to hurt people so they leave him alone, so they need to be able to dodge the attack, make fun of him or retaliate.

If they manage to deal with his temper, they will start to see what's on the other side of the snarky exterior. Then, they'll be able to start kneading the dough (Severus is the dough).

Convince him the attraction is real

That person could go the gentle/honest way, assuring him they're not kidding and explaining what they find attractive about him (he'd be super wary and need days to digest it - if he can). Genuine compliments could work quite well as he's good at reading people but it would be a process and it shouldn't be too much at once. He's NOT USED to compliments so if the person goes too hard, he's going to get overwhelmed, distance himself and reject it. A good trick would be to compliment his intelligence and magical skills alongside physical traits. A 2/3-1/3 ratio would be a good start. He would trust compliments about his big brain way more than anything regarding his cute butt.

Complimenting his presence, aura, voice might be good too as it's not directly related to physical traits. Else, physical starters could include hands and eyes. But I also love the idea of taking him by surprise and complimenting his nose. Might weird him out in a good way.

Or they could go the blunt way (or what I now refer to in my mind as the @maxdibert way) and be like "dude, I really think you're hot, deal with it" and leave him to sort his feelings out like a big boy.

The two strategies can be mixed of course. But at the end of the day, the real problem is that Severus as approximately a thousand confirmation bias in his mind telling him this is not happening. So what could they do to help ease this process?

Make him horny

Less overthinking = more chances to get this piece of ass.

Severus Snape needs to be warmed up. And as stated in my previous essay, he's plagued with the core beliefs that he's ugly, ridicule and undeserving. These beliefs need to be kneaded and challenged enough (not healed, this would take decades and it's not their job), so that he can relax and open up to the idea of intimacy.

Here are a few strategies to do so.

First, de-dramatize the subject. Making the topic less taboo by talking about it in a lighthearted way (no flaunting! certainly not!). A good move would be to joke about it. Deprived!Snape isn't comfortable with the subject but it's because it's evaded him and then he convinced himself he wasn't concerned or interested.

-> Here are some of the things he could benefit from hearing: that sex is not a big deal at all and we can laugh about it. It should be fun, a shared moment, trials and errors are part of it and there should no be judgment about experiences and preferences. People with a high 'body count' aren't necessarily good lovers, it's all about presence and intent etc.

His potential partner could share funny mishaps that happened to them and - when there's an opening - ask him what he would expect from a pleasant intimate moment (that's a very advanced move, don't forget he's bad with words)(it would only work in my opinion if they're both drunk and have been going at it for a while).

Also sharing experiences is a great way to build trust and intimacy (and arousal). He thrives on knowledge so learning more about his potential partner might ease his mind in some way (and give him some free intrusive thoughts). See it as added ingredients to make him simmer.

Though they shouldn't talk too much about the number of partners they had and said partner's skills. This might make him retreat. Again: low self-esteem and always on the lookout for an excuse to sabotage it.

Wait what about drunk!Snape you say? That's a trope we enjoy around here. Although I headcanon him as not being a heavy drinker (if a drinker at all because of his father) it would be a great way to lower a bit his inhibition. A DE would have a hard time sharing a drink with him, same for an Order member (he never stays after meetings but could be coerced), but a colleague could maybe drag him to the Three Broomsticks with other members of the staff and then leave early with him. wink wink Come on, rub his foot under the table and look at him choke on his ale. He'll skin you alive with his eyes and you can just raise a suggestive eyebrow back.

Persistence, persistence.

Of course a bit of physical baiting could help with his dusty libido. After all, they'd kinda be dealing with an teenager, experience-wise. Nothing too bold (though I headcanon that his sooty Cokeworth self would get way more worked up over unabashed desire than delicate courting but he's buried a bit too deep at the moment) but a nice cleavage, some leg showing, a fitting pair of pants or robes might not be a bad move. Since he might be uncomfortable with words, they could flaunt the goods in his face! The man has eyes, let him look and scold himself for looking. Also a few heavy looks, biting a lip and lingering fingers could go a long way for such a deprived man, especially if it's directed at him.

At the end of the day, the trick is to make him able to put his worry aside (or snap, if you find the word sexier).

They could go the provocative way, being insufferable and making him want to shut them up.

They could try some endless teasing until he's a lost hot mess, unable to express what he wants except by going 'fuck it' and going for it.

They could go slower and create a safe space with a weekly ritual (every Friday night meeting for a drink/to grade essays/to hang out) which can lead to a late night snog (floating candles optional).

They could be blunt and go 'I want to kiss you so bad right now' as they leave Hogsmeade together and are walking on the dirt path towards the castle. A gust of wind will prevent him from hiding himself behind his hair and they'll see the flush creeping on his face.

They could hammer the compliments and validation, because Severus craves recognition (is there a praise kink in there? yes). So first it could be his mind, his work, his skills... then the way his cape suits his frame so well, his silky voice... and then bam, hitting the nail on the head with complimenting his mouth. Blabbering mess guaranteed. Might flee but blush deliciously. Or might stop dead in his track and then it's time for them to claim these lips.

Kissing

Clumsy. Tentative. Awkward.

But earnest.

He might freeze at first. Wait, these lips knew how to do that once upon a time... how does it go again? He'll need a bit of time to remember but the best way to (re)learn is practice.

It will be a lot for him. As he's extremely touch-deprived he'd be literally rediscovering human contact. So much to feel, the supple of the lips, their shape, the softness, the wetness.

Honestly, deprived!Snape could get really worked up just from kissing.

(They could honestly make him cum just from this and some grinding. Amen. If he does he'd need reassurance after and still might flee and hide and snarl for a few days because male performance blahblahblah. Hopefully they'd be able to skip this step at this point in the relation.)

But I believe he'd enjoy it greatly and this might be a step he'd want to stay at for some time before going further.

Undressing

I headcanon deprived!Snape as being very self-conscious about revealing his body so it might only be possible with someone he really trusts. It might be painfully difficult for him (might require dimmed light if not obscurity but I mean come on, they're here to look at him and it'd be better for him to rip the bandaid... but giving him the option might help).

Either he'll be too aroused to care (or act as if he doesn't) or he'll feel very self-conscious and look for cues to confirm his belief that his partner will find him disgusting. It's the right moment for them to express their desire.

If for some reason he gets too triggered and leave, they wouldn't be back to square one but again, patience is key. He needs time. Or maybe they could convince him to stay and try to resolve the situation by stopping the intimacy and just talk about something else. It could be good practice to show him this isn't a big deal and that everything is fine.

But at this stage, complimenting him sincerely (no coddling) whilst not hiding their arousal could work nicely. Sprinkling some of the fantasies they had about him as well. ('I've been dreaming about these hands on me', 'You have no idea how much I've been wanting to kiss these lips to make you shut up', 'I laid awake at night thinking about touching this part of you'). Showing appreciation with touch could convince him more though and it has the advantage of preventing him to think too much.

But really, he won't like to focus on his appearance as it's something he has no control over so they should -unfortunately- bite their tongue and keep the flood of horny compliments to themselves at first. A new one might be fed to him once every two weeks to slowly build his confidence.

In Bed

Deprived!Snape is: prideful, yearning for control and very sensitive.

Now honestly I could make a whole other post with the different scenarios where he'd be more top or bottom. Instead, I will focus more on what would happen either way.

He'll want to learn. Because Severus is nothing if not a scholar. He's got a very curious nature regarding topics that interest him so if his partner is showing him how they like something, he'll get super serious about it. He will try to touch them in the exact same way at first and he's a fast learner so once it's mastered, he'll experiment. And he's going to be good at it.

That man got dexterity and an inventive mind. And that's canon.

But his focus on his partner might also be a way to keep control during this highly new situation. Depending on how self-conscious he is about his inexperience, shifting the focus on him might be a challenge. Maybe letting him take the lead could be a good idea. But maybe shoving him against the mattress and seizing control is the way to go here.

Now, he will be very sensitive, won't he?

Yes, he might. He might be a whimpering mess in no time. His partner should be cautious and gentle with him. Severus letting his guard down and letting them touch him is a very big effort coming from him so they should savor it and be sure to make it feel safe if they want this to happen again. Help him relax, let him breathe, don't hesitate to pause if he gets nervous. The walls will be destroyed, moan after moan.

But what if he isn't sensitive?

That's a possibility as well. He's been by himself for years and his wariness of intimacy and people is wired in his cells at this point. He's disconnected from his own body and never pays attention to it. He might also tense heavily once in bed with his partner, the vulnerability of it accentuating the disconnection. He might not feel pleasure, might get frustrated and feel angry or inadequate.

This situation - which I find very interesting and seems like a realistic follow-up to him wanting to kiss for a long time and struggling with undressing - is tricky and will require diplomacy and more patience.

But maybe this could be a dealbreaker for him. If the payoff isn't worth the discomfort, he could easily take it as a confirmation bias that intimacy isn't for the likes of him. The best course of action could be to focus on non-sexual aspect of intimacy.

But this essay is way too long already so I'm going to stop here.

What should I write about next? Is there something you wish I had addressed here? Is there something you'd like me to discuss next?

UPDATE: so a few people seem to be mad at me, demanding I keep on elaborating SO. Let's say I'm done here for the 'how to bed him' part (which was the premise of this essay) and I'll do another one following thoughts and possibly... focusing on the different roles in bed (top/bottom/switch) for our dear Severus. See you there.

TLDR: He's gonna be a pain, his partner needs to have calming draught for their nerves but in the end it will be very rewarding because he's starved and inventive.

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow?

This post is inspired by another post about the Crowd Strike IT disaster and a bunch of people being interested in what I mean by Dataflow. Dataflow is my absolute jam and I'm happy to answer as many questions as you like on it. I even put referential pictures in like I'm writing an article, what fun!

I'll probably split this into multiple parts because it'll be a huge post otherwise but here we go!

A Brief History

Our world is dependent on the flow of data. It exists in almost every aspect of our lives and has done so arguably for hundreds if not thousands of years.

At the end of the day, the flow of data is the flow of knowledge and information. Normally most of us refer to data in the context of computing technology (our phones, PCs, tablets etc) but, if we want to get historical about it, the invention of writing and the invention of the Printing Press were great leaps forward in how we increased the flow of information.

Modern Day IT exists for one reason - To support the flow of data.

Whether it's buying something at a shop, sitting staring at an excel sheet at work, or watching Netflix - All of the technology you interact with is to support the flow of data.

Understanding and managing the flow of data is as important to getting us to where we are right now as when we first learned to control and manage water to provide irrigation for early farming and settlement.

Engineering Rigor

When the majority of us turn on the tap to have a drink or take a shower, we expect water to come out. We trust that the water is clean, and we trust that our homes can receive a steady supply of water.

Most of us trust our central heating (insert boiler joke here) and the plugs/sockets in our homes to provide gas and electricity. The reason we trust all of these flows is because there's been rigorous engineering standards built up over decades and centuries.

For example, Scottish Water will understand every component part that makes up their water pipelines. Those pipes, valves, fitting etc will comply with a national, or in some cases international, standard. These companies have diagrams that clearly map all of this out, mostly because they have to legally but also because it also vital for disaster recovery and other compliance issues.

Modern IT

And this is where modern day IT has problems. I'm not saying that modern day tech is a pile of shit. We all have great phones, our PCs can play good games, but it's one thing to craft well-designed products and another thing entirely to think about they all work together.

Because that is what's happened over the past few decades of IT. Organisations have piled on the latest plug-and-play technology (Software or Hardware) and they've built up complex legacy systems that no one really knows how they all work together. They've lost track of how data flows across their organisation which makes the work of cybersecurity, disaster recovery, compliance and general business transformation teams a nightmare.

Some of these systems are entirely dependent on other systems to operate. But that dependency isn't documented. The vast majority of digital transformation projects fail because they get halfway through and realise they hadn't factored in a system that they thought was nothing but was vital to the organisation running.

And this isn't just for-profit organisations, this is the health services, this is national infrastructure, it's everyone.

There's not yet a single standard that says "This is how organisations should control, manage and govern their flows of data."

Why is that relevant to the companies that were affected by Crowd Strike? Would it have stopped it?

Maybe, maybe not. But considering the global impact, it doesn't look like many organisations were prepared for the possibility of a huge chunk of their IT infrastructure going down.

Understanding dataflows help with the preparation for events like this, so organisations can move to mitigate them, and also the recovery side when they do happen. Organisations need to understand which systems are a priority to get back operational and which can be left.

The problem I'm seeing from a lot of organisations at the moment is that they don't know which systems to recover first, and are losing money and reputation while they fight to get things back online. A lot of them are just winging it.

Conclusion of Part 1

Next time I can totally go into diagramming if any of you are interested in that.

How can any organisation actually map their dataflow and what things need to be considered to do so. It'll come across like common sense, but that's why an actual standard is so desperately needed!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, I really liked it and I thought the maidenless board game club headcanons were really fun, I don't know if you've done it for any other club, but if not, I'd like to ask if you could do it for the basketball club if it were possible, it's the club that has some of my favorite characters and I would really like to read :)

[Maidenless Board Game Club headcanons here!]

asdyugagsodoefa Thank you, I'm glad you liked those original headcanons 😅 That post is actually a bunch of ideas I cooked up while talking with a friend. We also talk about the Basketball Club a lot, so here's a compilation of those too. It should be noted that I do not intend to complete this prompt for all of the characters; I'm only posting the Basketball Club content because I happen to have them on hand. Any and all mentions of the reader are meant to be gender neutral; gendered terms may still appear in these headcanons, but never in reference to the reader.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Ace tries to claim his stake as the "cool guy" of the team by bragging about his ex to the older players + acting like some dating god and advice dispenser. They seem none too impressed by him, with some of them (including Floyd) dunking on him for being ganged up on and scolded by a bunch of girls.

He swears to his club mates he can bag someone, he just thinks dating’s way too much trouble so he’s fine by himself, thank you very much! It’s Ace obviously scrambling to salvage his pride and reputation among his peers. (No one believes him.)

During the move-in week to NRC, Ace was out in Foothill Town to buy school supplies. He saw Jamil in casual wear and mistook him as a mature onee-san so he catcalled him. Ace rambled on for a while before Jamil cut him off by informing him that he is a man. This shocked and embarrassed Ace so much that he shut up and scurried away, thankful that the chances of running into Jamil again are slim... until he sees the exact same guy at the Basketball Team tryouts.

Ace has too much pride to back out now, but he also deeply fears that Jamil will obliterate him by sharing their first interaction with the team. Whenever Jamil smirks, Ace gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and dreads what Jamil will say next. It could be the end of his social life at school! (It’s dangled over Ace’s head as collateral to get him to behave; if Ace acts out, Jamil will start to tell the story as a warning.)

If Ace spots a cute spectator at their games, he’ll wink at them, then call out and dedicate his next shot to them. (Bro proceeds to completely whiff the throw; the ball bounces off the rim of the hoop.)

He feels insecure about his masculinity, especially when put next to his senpai who get a lot more attention than he does. Ace tries to mooch off their popularity by claiming he’s a lot closer to them than he actually is or by playing up the role of being “the cute one”, only to be humiliated by Floyd or Jamil’s jeers. “Mmm? Isn’t Crabby the one who called me ‘the worst’ the other day?” / “… ‘Cute’? You? Don’t make me laugh. You’re anything but.”)

Attracts a decent amount of romantic attention (which Ace loudly complains about) but never commits to actively pursuing any relationship in the long term. No one seems to hold his interest long enough--and besides, Floyd's not lookin' to be tied down.

When asked “why do you like them?” or “why are you with them?” Floyd usually responds with a shrug or an answer that’s not too well thought out like, “Uh, cuz they told me they were into me?” or, “I dunno, just felt like it today.”

Frequently pisses potential partners off due to his attitude. Floyd can be fun but he flakes very often, saying he’ll be there one day and then cancelling like an hour before the date. He’s never consistent with anything, and that tests patiences.

Also commits the sin of ghosting people once he loses interest or he feels they’re being too needy. Ace calls him a bastard for that, but Floyd shoots back by reminding Ace he did this to HIS ex too.

There was an incident in which his S/O of like... one weekend's worth of time saw Jade in public and approached him, thinking it was Floyd. Jade did not recognize them but played along just to have fun. The S/O was so offended they stormed off and broke up with Floyd via text. He wasn't bothered at all; he and Jade shared a laugh about it. ("You're equally awful," Jamil had chided them.)

Casually and shamelessly talks about his escapades. Doesn’t care to be tactful with his wording, lays it all out there. Ace is super invested in the gossip whereas Jamil makes it clear he’s disgusted by this use of their club time.

Single because he is legitimately way too busy with school, caring for Kalim, etc. to even entertain the idea of a relationship. Doesn’t need that extra stress right now.

Najma calls him “forever alone” to her friends and jokingly acts all disgusted whenever he acts slightly shy or affectionate towards someone. “Oh my gosh, Jamil…! Are you crushing on them?!” she teases him. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be all lovey-dovey…” Since that first incident, Jamil had vowed to himself to never allow his sister see him in such a vulnerable state.

Due to his flat voice and placid face, Jamil is aware he can come off as cold or disinterested. He makes sure to smile a little and to brighten up his tone when speaking with someone he wants to make a good first impression with--but he's also careful never to get too close, to be too familiar. He must keep polite and professional at all times, lest he bring shame upon his name--or the Asims' name.

Jamil has somehow settled into the position of the "team mom" (not by choice, but due to necessity; who else is going to round up all these idiots?). He's the one bringing snacks, reminding the team to behave and to stay hydrated, tending to injuries with his first aid kit, etc. Ace sometimes makes fun of this and claims "no one wants a second parent for a boyfriend", to which Jamil just rolls his eyes and tells him to stop acting so childish.

The only one with some god damn common sense around here. Jamil listens to the callous way Floyd and Ace treated their exes and shakes his head, sighs, and tells them off. In his head, he talks himself up and claims he isn't so stupid as to make the same mistakes that they did if he were in their shoes. (... Yes, Jamil Viper is his OWN hype man for hypothetical romantic situations 😭)

HE’S SO REPRESSED, HOLY SHIT. Since he can’t feasibly go out and seek a relationship, Jamil settles for daydreams of a peaceful domestic life, traveling Twisted Wonderland together, and other adventures. He’d rather die than share any of these fantasies with his peers.

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[kithj]

Announcing the second Queer Vampire IF Jam!

This is a month-long game jam that will run from January 10 - February 20th, 2025. The goal of this jam is to create more interactive fiction games about queer vampires, focusing both on queer relationships and queer experiences as told through a vampiric narrative.

Check out the entries from last year here!

JAM RULES:

Your project must focus on queer characters and vampires. Queer relationships, romantic or platonic, as well as other queer experiences, whether gay, lesbian, bisexual, ace, aro, trans and nonbinary - this is an inclusive jam. 

You can write from a human or vampire perspective (or both!)

This jam will accept any medium, so long as the work is an Interactive Fiction.

This jam will accept adult content as well as games covering heavy & uncomfortable topics, but please be sure to properly list trigger warnings either in-game or on the game page.

Entries that promote any kind of bigotry will not be accepted.

Games should not include any AI generated content.

You can submit as many entries as you'd like.

There is no language requirement; we will accept games in any language.

You are allowed to start working on your project early! That's why I'm announcing it now. This jam is unranked and it's not a contest, this is just for fun.

Submissions open midnight, January 10th EST. They'll close February 20th at 11:59pm EST.

Join the jam here!

hosted by me and @nyehilismwriting

Additional questions we got asked frequently last year, for clarification:

Do Visual Novels count?

Yes!

What is Interactive Fiction?

Personally, I find interactive fiction hard to define, and I’m not interested in policing it, so as long as it’s recognizably interactive fiction - ie, the game has a narrative focus primarily with text, and the player can interact (whether that be with direct choices, clicking through links, or allowing the player to choose how to move around and interact with the world/the game like in bitsy) then it counts. Parsers, visual novels, choose-your-own-adventures are some of the popular examples of IF, but there are plenty that don’t fall within any category. Check out the IF tag on itch.io and you can see just how varied it is.

Does it have to be horror?

No, any genre is accepted!