#this is especially obvious with like. names and places. also numbers

[voidimp]

hey u know how when ai tries to make text it looks all weird & the letters are sometimes like combined or theres random bits where there shouldnt be... if u look at regular text & it kinda looks like that..... do we think that might possibly be........ dyslexia................ asking for a friend (me)

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

[digiflora]

╭┄──── 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. genshin men 〆 wc. 1.2k

art creds. こは on twt 〆 contains. suggestiveness and brief smut!!, toxic fwb dynamics, jealousy

gia's notes. i drank too much coffee and now i feel sick and can't sleep ughhhhh 😞😞 n e ways enjoy these headcanons while i work on a proper fic (kinda) about this premise :3. i was gonna write more for this but then i kinda ran out of juice so... y'all rocking with this ⁉️⁉️

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 HELLOOO I read your friends with benefits angst and IF UR COMFORTABLE WITH IT could u write if they found out you had someone else on the side as well? If they’d care, if they’d be bothered by it and just little headcanons and stuff, anyways, I hope u have a good day/night !!! 🎀❤️:3 ❞

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ HE’S COMPLETELY FINE WITH IT… RIGHT?

-these guys are your most dependable to get into a friends with benefits relationship with, simply because they’re very good at drawing a distinction between being around you to fuck and maybe cuddle afterwards, versus wanting something more

-and before this had all started, you had drawn out some very distinct ground rules

-one. if you start to catch feelings, tell the other person

-two. If you start fucking someone else, tell the other person

-three. ESPECIALLY if you’re doing it raw with number two

-and this has you wringing your hands pathetically in your lap, fingers twisting themselves into knots as you can barely meet the eye of the man that you had called to come over a mere twenty minutes ago

-he wasn’t stupid- the fact that you hadn’t yanked him into your place by his shirt before ripping it off of him made it clear that the nature of his visit was… not for the ordinary reason

-another great sign was the way your leg bounced incessantly, eyes darting everywhere in the room but him as you chewed at the edge of your thumbnail

-the silence was killing him, though, so he decided to put an end to it

-he calls your name, trying to be stern though you can both hear the playful edge to his voice. he also plants a warm hand on your knee, enough to make you finally look up into his eyes

-”you gonna tell me which rule we need to talk about today?”

-your eyes widen, gaze darting off to the side once again and he chuckles at your bashfulness

-fuck, had you really been so obvious?

“look, i understand, honestly i’d fall for me too if i were you, what with the way i fuck-”

-“-it’s rule two”

-and back to silence

-”ah. i see”

-you’re scanning his face now

-you weren’t even sure that you knew what you wanted him to be feeling right now. jealous? hesitant? indifferent?

-”and are there… any other rules you need to mention?” the silence hangs heavy in the air, any of the other numbers you could mention opening doors to such avenues that you firmly wanted locked right now

-”no”

-you look him in the eyes for this, again. you didn’t ave anything to hide

-and you watch with surprise at the honest to god grin that crosses his features, as if you had given him a birthday gift early

-”well,” he begins, shifting his weight to face you, knees brushing yours as his hand begins to travel further up, smoothing over your thigh

-”that’s a relief to hear”

-”it is?” you sound breathless, and he uses this as an excuse to lean in closer as if to hear you better, only to whisper his own words right into your ear

-”i must be your favourite, because you’re going to have to definitely mention that rule three to him”

-your scandalised retort dies on your lips when his head dips lower, lips and tongue latching onto your neck, tracing patterns and leaving love bites in his wake

-”thereee we go, that’s more like it,” he chuckles into your skin again, hands leveraging you onto his lap so that he can continue his ministrations

-he’ll have your brain so muddled by the end of tonight that you’ll question why you even needed a rule two in the first place

-and maybe, just maybe, when you do break things off with whoever he was, you’d need to stipulate a rule one as well

KAEYA, ayato, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, itto, THOMA, zhongli

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ THE LOVERBOY… WHO’S DEFINITELY NOT HEARTBROKEN!!!

-sleeping with him, even in this little undisclosed fling, is sweet

-you can tell that he cares about you, more than whether you cum or not, and there’s adoration in his eyes when he runs his hands all over your body

-it’s enough to twist that little knife in your chest that much further every time he bites his lips when the two of you are making love

-(fucking, you would correct him hastily)

-you see how hard he fights to keep what he wants to say inside of him as you ride him, hips slow and sensual before slamming back down against his thighs

-you see the way his brows crease, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels you clench around him, a strangled moan just managing to escape him

-and when he cums, deep inside you, you’re left with the cloying taste of guilt in your mouth when he kisses you feverishly before anything else, like a lover

-and it breaks your heart to do this, it really does, but you have to remind him that at the end of the day, you’re not exclusive

-”i’m seeing someone else”

-you try to slip it into a conversation as casually as possible

-the two of you are sat at his table, eating a meal that he had insisted on cooking for you, only candlelight illuminating the room, and some soft music playing in the background

-the scene felt so domestic that you were scared he would ask you to be his girlfriend any second now, and it just slipped out before he could get another word in

-you’re digging around your plate, pretending to fix yourself a forkful- he really was a good cook- though you can’t miss the way that he tenses in the corner of your vision

-your throat feels dry, and that knife just can’t quit twisting- but you need to make this distinction clear. for yourself. for him

-”i don’t know what to say”

-you quirk an eyebrow at this

-”really?”

-he pauses now, thinking, not enough to hide the hurt in his eyes. it’s injected into every feature of his, and he picks at his own plate now. the blade’s embedded deep in your chest, and it hurts now

-”i’m… sorry”

-you technically didn’t do anything wrong- you both agreed that this would be casual. but why did it feel like you had betrayed him?

-it’s an agonising silence as you both process what you just said. you’re not sure if he’ll ever speak again until you hear a hoarse voice croak out “i think that you should go”

-you didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was crying- you at least had the dignity to not mention it, to not fight it as you nod silently, feeling numb as he walks you to his door

-it all feels too final as he looks you in your eyes one last time, searching for something there before he looks crestfallen and sighs, beginning to close the door

-”goodbye, y/n. get home safe”

-you can only see the paint of his door now- some shuffling on the other end of it before you’re left utterly alone, stabbed clean through with the dripping mess of your grave mistake pooling at your feet

DILUC, neuvillette, CHILDE, dainsleif, ALHAITHAM, cyno, kaveh

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... she hold me down like gravity

[tarisbackyard]

Here's how to write an authentic Grimm style fairytale, brought to you by a Certified German TM:

Forget everything Disney movies taught you, besides maybe Snowwhite, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty. But even those are on thin fucking ice. Also ignore modern fantasy literature conventions, especially Dungeons & Dragons type stuff.

Ideally only the protagonist or none of the characters ought to have names. And the names should either be really fucking ordinary, or some kind of epithet. Like, either that's a Franz or a Bramblesock, cause when Bramblesock was a child he lost a sock in a shrub of brambles. Everyone else is either the king, the grandma, or the carpenter.

The common types of protagonist: Regular working class guy who cons his way into a life of riches, poor downtrodden peasant who through hardworking kindness is granted salvation (usually via gaining riches), too pure too good for this world princess who can't catch a fucking break, too nasty too bratty for this world princess who gets taught a lesson in humility.

The characters are generally very one note and the only kind of character growth they can experience boils down to "maybe I shouldn't have been a dick, huh?"

The location is either as vague as possible or super fucking specific for no reason; either the story takes place literally nowhere or in the town of Buxtehude.

Animals and inanimate objects that can talk for no apparent reason and no one bats an eye at are always a great addition.

If you want to add any fantasy races, use giants (large, dumb brutes), dwarves (angry little guys who live in the wilderness and get really angry if you touch their beards), or gnomes (mischievous house spirits who might be helpful but watch out!), but never more than one of these. Fairies are rare and usually the "tall beautiful wise woman" type, not the small annoying pixie type. Dragons are very pointedly no-where to be found, those distinctly belong in sagas, which are their own distinct type of literature.

Weird moral of the story that either boils down to "be smarter than all the other fuckers", "good things happen to good people, bad things happen to bad people", or "don't upset the supernatural".

Random tidbits of gore that no one bats an eye at.

Witches eat children, if a mother gets more than single line dedicated to her she's evil, fathers are spineless and/or assholes who either die or come around in the end.

Ugly means evil, pretty means good. Except when it doesn't.

Optional: Repeated rhyming phrases and numbers. Seventh son of a seventh son kinda stuff. The numbers 3, 7, 12, and 13 in particular.

Ideally a 19th century scholar should be able to read some clumsy Germanic pagan wishful thinking into the story, no matter how big and obvious the Christian overtones are.

Optional: Start the story with "Once upon a time" and end it with "And if they didn't die, then they are still alive today."

[luxaofhesperides]

Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen. 

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart. 

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment. 

They’ll never get to meet. 

Duke had never felt so alone before. 

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours. 

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again. 

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow? 

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart. 

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage. 

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer. 

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better. 

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets. 

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret. 

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes. 

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it. 

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe. 

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal. 

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts. 

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more. 

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning. 

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago. 

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden. 

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin. 

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands. 

“Meet me out front in an hour then.” 

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick. 

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them. 

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit. 

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin. 

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful. 

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience. 

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was. 

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails? 

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him. 

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot. 

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him. 

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants. 

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke. 

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark. 

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees. 

“Man, what a day.” 

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny. 

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen. 

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark. 

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

[maximoffwitch]

Thanks for Noticing!

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

warnings: none, literally just fluff and emily being oblivious

summary: you've been flirting with emily for the past year. she finally notices.

word count: 966

a/n: inspired by that iconic wait, did you just flirt with me? have been for the past year but thanks for noticing! left this open for a pt 2 potentially so lmk (: also nothing can top emily’s undercover look from 52 pickup but the dress i pictured her wearing in this is the one above from her interview with conan 🤭

“Remind me why I’m the one doing this? Again,” Emily huffed as she finished clasping in her earring. 

Hotch had picked Emily to go undercover at a club and play seductress with the unsub. To say she was annoyed would be a massive understatement, especially given you were also a woman on the team, one who specialized in undercover operations. 

“Because you’re so good at it,” you teased, a goofy grin on your face. JJ bit back a chuckle as she reviewed the file in her hand. 

Rolling her eyes at you two, Emily tugged at the hem of the sparkly black dress that clung to her curves in all the right places before flowing past her mid thigh to right above her knees.

“Don’t you think this dress is a little,” she paused to find the most accurate word to describe the garment decorating her body, “too flashy.”

“It’s perfect,” JJ placated, not even looking up from the paper she was reading. “(Y/N/N) agrees with me.”

You nodded along to the blonde’s words, your eyes unabashedly ogling the exposed skin of Emily’s legs. “JJ’s right. It looks good.” Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you lifted your gaze to meet Emily’s burning one. “Though I think it’d look even better on my floor.”

Emily’s eyes widened and her lips parted. You could see JJ, out of the corner of your eye, look up from her file, her hand barely covering the amused smile dancing on her face. An awkward silence hung in the air, but you kept your eyes focused on the woman in front of you. 

“Did you just flirt with me?” Emily asked, regaining her senses. Her cheeks were now tinted red, and a flush of warmth had crept throughout her chest.

“I have been for the past year,” you quipped, “but thanks for noticing.”

At that, JJ couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips. Glancing over at her, you smirked knowingly. The media liaison had been an audience many times to your flirtatious remarks made towards Emily. She had also been privy to the revelation of your true feelings, not that they were much of a secret considering your blatant flirting.

“Wait, what?” Emily pursed her lips, the shiny pink lip gloss making them appear to be in more of a pout.

“Seriously, Prentiss.” You raised a brow and lightly shook your head. “I thought you were a profiler.”

“But, I–” she paused, an array of memories flashing in her mind. 

All the nicknames you had for her flooded her memory. When you first joined the team, it started easily with you calling her “Em” and even testing the waters with “Milly,” which received a stern glare. But then you got bolder, calling her “pretty lady” and “baby girl,” taking a page out of Morgan and Garcia’s book. And as the two of you got to know each other better – after a number of girls’ nights out and also sharing hotel rooms during cases on the road – you softened, calling her names like “honey” and “darling.”

It didn’t stop at the pet names though. Your flirting encompassed everything from teasing jokes to clever innuendos. 

“Do you come here often?” “I literally work here (Y/N).”

“You’re lucky I like you’re so cute” “I wouldn’t say luck has anything to do with it.”

“Stop distracting me, Em.” “I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Why don’t you let me take you out sometime, Prentiss?” “Like with a gun or on a date?”

Emily’s mind reeled as everything finally clicked into place. Every word, every glance, every smirk; it all seemed so obvious now. She suddenly felt even more exposed, standing in front of you in a skimpy dress, her oblivion on full display.

Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, not out of modesty, but more to anchor herself against the swirl of emotions rushing through her.

“I feel like an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath, and your expression softened. 

You took a small step forward, but before you could protest, a firm knock stopped you.

“Prentiss, you ready?” Hotch interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was time. 

Emily nodded curtly, straightened her spine, and, with a single breath, slipped her professional mask back on. “Let’s get this over with.”

As she passed you on her way to the door, her arm brushed against yours. You inhaled sharply at the contact, her warm skin leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“We’ll finish this later,” she said, her gaze more determined, more confident.

“I’m counting on it.” You smirked, your eyes following her, dropping ever so slightly as Emily swayed her hips out the door. 

Even as she was out the door and long gone out of your sight, you continued to stare after her, a stupid grin plastered on your face. 

“So that finally happened,” JJ said, breaking your reverie with a slight elbow to your side. 

“You’re telling me.” You rolled your eyes playfully and let out a small laugh. “So, you gonna tell me who won the bet?”

“Which one?” JJ teased, a mischievous glint in her eye as she made her way towards the door. The two of you were supposed to be on your way to the club, acting as cover if anything went wrong, but you wanted to know about the other bets.

“Wait, what?” It was your turn to be taken off guard. 

“Let me know how it goes later, and I’ll tell you who won the bets. All of them,” JJ bargained before turning back around and speed walking down the hallway. “Come on, Romeo. We’re gonna be late.”

Shaking yourself back into reality, you grinned to yourself, a nervous excitement churning in your stomach.

You couldn’t wait for later.

[ghostbooba]

can you pls do headcanons of Victoria with controversially young girlfriend!Reader??? IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES. not that much of an age gap but maybe like have reader be 22 or 23? Or even slightly younger if you’re cool with that! Whatever you’re comfortable with!

controversially young gf!reader seems to be really popular amongst Victoria lovers... gee I wonder why...

For a good long while, you manage to remain both her plaything and her little secret: no one had to know, right? Her career would certainly take the fall of it all.

You met at a bar, a simple night out with friends to decompress, no expectations; and so even through all the flirting and not-so-subtle stares, you were quite starstruck when not only she gave you her number, but also brought you home.

She’s protective and wary, especially because you’re younger, and while mature, definitely inexperienced in regards to all sorts of things, interactions, and environments. You're barely twenty, for fuck's sake. She won’t shelter you, but also won’t let you barge headfirst into something. Lots of planning and reprimands, but lots of coddling as well.

She tries to understand and inform herself on whatever slang is popular at the moment, to be “hip with the kids”, trying to seem young and fuun to you. to you it doesn’t matter, you like her for being herself. Still, it’s a little funny, so you keep quiet.

Within the privacy of the four walls of her home (because oh no she’s absolutely not letting you stay in that shabby rented apartment downtown) she can be quite sweet if not uptight, scolding you as if you were a child for the silliest mistakes only to kiss you senseless at the mere sight of a pout, crawling between your legs on special days as a soundless apology. Well, not so soundless on your part.

She pulled some strings to get you hired at the Bureau early in the relationship, both because urgently in need of a new secretary and more than eager to have you frolicking around as eye candy in her office.

She tries not to make it obvious at work, but rumors spread quickly, and after a paparazzi shot of you two making out after a speech went viral, there was nothing more to do.

Victoria’s P.R: team was furious, working overtime to cover the whole thing up, but when life gives you lemons…

So she starts parading you around, her pretty little jewel not to touch but to look at; visibly ruining you with hickeys and scratches to then have you wear low cut dresses, because they look sooo good on you, Especially when everyone can see you’re hers.

It’s news for a week or two, but tabloids go quiet when new, exciting news appear: like bees to pollen. And sure, rumors still go around, calling you both all sorts of names (cougar and sugar baby seem to be some of the favorites) but life moves on.

It’d devolve into full on PDA and blatant favoritism pretty quickly, gaining you a promotion (or two, if you actually work hard enough and don’t spend half the time under her desk), annoying more than one of your coworkers. The smarter ones avoid the murmurs and whispers, making friendly conversation as they oh so reasonably don’t want to get fired for something as silly as “age gap” and “power imbalance”.

NSFW

She’s downright cruel: having you whine between her legs, until you show her “what a good puppy you are” keeping you in place while sucking and licking her clit until she cums, without letting you touch yourself, of course: “that’s mommy’s job”

She loves office sex, period sex, risky sex really: anyone in their right mind would call her an adrenaline junkie, but the fact that you’re curious and willing to try anything out has put her in dicey scenarios more than once.

Manipulating your blood while she’s eating you out, or vice versa: chin streaming with cum and blood as you whimper because at this point she’s made your clit so sensitive you might cry.

She tends to dom, not necessarily top, but it helps her scatch that itch that for once, she’s the one in control as you writhe and writhe and beg her as she latches on your nipples. She commands you around, no matter who’s wearing the strap... if there’s even one in the equation.

Not opposed to the use of toys, especially after a stressful workday; on that same note, some days are dedicated to gentle sex, worshiping her weary body until she passes out.

She love to buy you frilly lingerie, and can be pretty disappointed to find you jn walmart cartoon kids boxers while getting you naked. Youa rgue that they're funny and really cool.

Aftercare might be both of your favorite: the loving intimacy of taking care of ssomeone; although Victoria always feels the need to be the one to do all the work, again because you’re young. And you oppose her with her own argument “young and capable” yet it always ends in small chuckles and smiles.

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠🪱Wriggly Wednesday🪱🧠

Thanks for the tag @stervrucht!

So I was literally just thinking about Sugar Daddy Steddie with rockstar Eddie, coincidentally enough…

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

Okay so get this. Eddie Munson is some fucking metal legend. Corroded Coffin made it big, right? Right out of high school some scout saw them playing and swooped them up immediately, and before you knew it they were household names. Even people who don’t listen to metal know who they are.

And look, Steve Harrington? Metal is so not his scene. That much is obvious with his striped polos and overly large noise cancelling headphones, but he’s there in the crowd, front row, with a pack of teenagers scampering about. Obviously not his own, but he’s watching them, a glorified babysitter. He looks kind of bitchy, but the occasional fond smile settles over his lips as he takes in the lot who are having the time of their lives.

They all have backstage passes and are there for Dustin’s birthday because Corroded Coffin is his all-time favorite band and he’s always wanted to meet the guy he idol worships. They go backstage, meet the band, and it’s great. Fantastic even. The band is a lot more down to earth than Steve had been expecting, and there’s no naked ladies or drugs in obvious places, so he decides maybe they aren’t too terrible.

Except the frontman keeps hitting on Steve.

At first it was startling, because Steve isn’t some cheap whore (no hate to actual cheap whores, Steve is 100% sex work positive, but he’s there as a babysitter), but Eddie doesn’t spend the whole time hitting on Steve. He actually spends the majority of it talking to Dustin and the others, and he gives way more free shit to the teens than was agreed upon with the backstage passes, and he and the rest of the band sign anything and everything the teens want.

(Eddie also offers to sign Steve’s tits, which gets him a flat glare.)

And that should be it when they leave. Except Eddie slips Steve his number. For when he’s not acting a babysitter.

And that’s the thing. When Steve isn’t in babysitter mode? Fuck. Eddie Munson could get it.

Steve might not be a whore, but he is a bit of a slut. And Eddie had been far more charming that he let it be revealed, not least of which being because of how he handled Dustin and the others, especially sweet El. He’d absolutely beamed when she called his outfit “bitchin’” and there was no artifice there.

Now, Steve wasn’t some groupie, but…he wasn’t opposed to hooking up with a hot rockstar in a band he couldn’t really care about if it got him some good dick.

And good dick he gets. But first, Eddie actually takes him out, taking him out to a really nice and fancy restaurant, despite Steve not dressing for the occasion expecting this to be a hit-it-and-quit-it situation, but Eddie pays off the staff to look the other way. After all, Eddie’s not really dressed all that appropriately either.

Then Eddie takes him for an honest-to-god moonlit carriage ride around the park, complete with flowers and cheesy romantic music. Steve would like to say he was unaffected, but it really did it for him. He was a romantic sap but he was used to being the one always having to be the giver, never the receiver. It was…nice. And sweet, because god, Eddie Munson was secretly a sweetheart when you got him alone.

And then, after the sweet and romantic date, the two of them have the most disrespectful sex of Steve’s life.

He can’t get enough of it.

He knows what this is, however. He knows someone like Eddie Munson probably does this every tour, picking up some random person and wining and dining them and then teaching them things that would make the Kama Sutra blush.

Except, when he sneaks out Eddie’s room in the hotel penthouse in the morning, bruised and rumpled in all the right ways, the rest of the band lounging in the sitting room are as surprised to see him as he is to see them. Because, it turns out, apparently Eddie doesn’t do this. At least not to the extent he showed Steve.

No one was ever asked to stay until morning, at least.

But Steve has to go home, and he thinks that’s it. But then Eddie comes out and asks for a second date when he tries to leave. Offers more backstage passes to the next show for the kids, and Steve is hesitant to say yes, and that’s when Eddie hits him with another surprise.

Eddie says that he doesn’t care that Steve is a babysitter or a nanny or whatever, he isn’t doing this out of pity over Steve’s financial issues, which he accompanies with a slight tug at the worn and slightly frayed edges of Steve’s polo. He says that he just wants to treat Steve right because Steve deserves it. That he wants to buy him pretty things and shower him with whatever he wants. Wants to keep having the sweetest dates with the most disrespectful sex with him.

And Steve…well. Steve is stumped.

Sure, he’s wearing old clothes, but he thought he was just having a dick appointment. And yeah, he was a babysitter, but the teens were actually weirdly his friends despite the age differences, not to mention many were the younger siblings of his other, more age appropriate friends. And yeah, Steve had blushed when Eddie mentioned going to a fancy restaurant and said he didn’t have the money for it, but that’s because he left his wallet behind because, as previously stated, he’d thought this was just a dick appointment.

But you see, Steve Harrington was the CEO of a major international corporation that had been in the Harrington family for generations who, once Steve took the helm from his father, had also recently begun work in far more charitable organizations and activities. His company was, in fact, one of the major donors that supported the arena in which Corroded Coffin had just played in last night. The company’s logo, a small crown with the company’s initials, was printed on all the tickets and on the backstage passes.

How else would Steve have been able to afford over half a dozen of them if he was living on just a babysitter’s salary.

Yet, here was Eddie, offering to be his…sugar daddy?

Steve would have laughed, was tempted to even, but Eddie looked so genuine and earnest and like truly all he wanted was to spend more time with Steve.

And really. Steve was so used to having to be the one to provide luxuries for his dates, to be the one in charge, to always have to give give give. Maybe, just maybe, he could play along with Eddie’s utter misunderstanding and take just a little bit. He’d pay Eddie back when the rockstar got bored of him and moved on, so really, what was the harm?

So yeah, Steve just smiles and says Okay, Daddy, and accepts the goddamn gifts Eddie had apparently already bought for him even before their date, and he lets himself have his fun.

After all, it’s not like it’s gonna turn into anything long lasting, right? Nothing serious, right? And there’s absolutely no way that they could ever fall in love…

…right?

Aaaaand yeah. Other things that I envision could pop up in the story:

Robin is his best friend and works for him with international clients due to being polylingual. She discovers what is going on and calls him a dingus. She also wants all the gossip.

Dustin finds a diamond studded collar in his bedroom that says “Babygirl” and asks if Steve is getting a dog. He was looking for something to wear to impress a date and Steve forgot Eddie’s latest gift was still on his bed.

Steve is in full sugar baby mode when they accidentally run into one of Steve’s business associates and/or they are at one of the venue locations Steve secretly owns and he’s trying desperately to hide anything that might have his name or face on it.

In the end, Steve starts buying Eddie expensive gifts too which freaks Eddie out because he doesn’t want Steve to waste what little money he has on him. Or so he thinks.

Some big angsty misunderstandings and the truth finally being revealed. It ends with them agreeing to spoil each other, but only Steve gets to be called “Babygirl” and Eddie remains “Daddy”. Everyone is sick of how in love they are.

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

No pressure tags: @scoops-aboy86 @endlessmusings1801 @viviseawrites @steddieassheg0es @stevesbipanic (if you’ve previously been tagged, just ignore me!)

[smutinlove]

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ—ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ

—You know what this is. For my fellow Jason Todd lovers, this is for you.

✯A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

This man can either be rough or soft. But most of the time, he is rough. But he also loves taking care of you. After sex, he'd run a bath for you or give you a well-deserved massage while whispering something along the lines of, "You did so good, love."

✯B = Body part (His favorite body part of yours)

He is a total thigh man. He loves your thighs. Jason loves seeing you wear short shorts that show off your thighs. He also loves it when you sit down and your thighs quadruple in size. It always gets him in the mood.

✯C = Consent (He's a gentleman)

He will NEVER do anything to you without asking first. Jason would hate to see you hurt, especially if he hurt you. He couldn't live with himself if he were the one that hurt you.

✯D = Dirty secret (Very obvious)

Whenever you're out or not around, he'll raid your closet and masturbate using a piece of your clothing. (He is a major horndog)

✯E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

He's had a few flings and hookups before he died. He's experimented with a few things. (Toys etc..) He's a very experienced person. Jason's a quick learner when it comes to you as well. He knows what you feel uncomfortable and comfortable with.

He's occasionally asked Dick or Bruce for advice as well. (Bruce would probably avoid the question and say he needs to go on patrol or something. But Dick would definitely answer and questions from Jason.)

✯F = Favorite position

Missionary. He loves seeing you squirm and moan beneath him while he fucks you until you can't walk straight. And if he's in an extra special mood (jealous/angry) his hands suddenly find their way to your neck, giving you a rough squeeze and ramming into you like it's his last day on earth.

✯G = Goofy (Is Jason more serious or just goofy?)

It depends on Jason's mood. Sometimes he'll make jokes and tease you. But mostly, he's serious and into the moment. And when he's angry or frustrated, he always feels better when he hears you scream his name and moan.

✯H = Hair (Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Jason keeps himself neat. He occasionally has a bit of facial stubble. And he may or may not have a bush down there. But if you want him to shave, he will. He's good like that.

✯I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantic aspect)

I feel like Jason would get a bit uncomfortable when he feels vulnerable. But during sex, he's definitely more rough and does his best to ask how you are.

Jason struggles with showing his emotions and expressing his feelings, but it's something he's working on.

But when you're not having sex, he knows you. Jason is great at reading your feelings. He knows what you want and don't want. He will always want to make you happy and remind you that you're loved.

✯J = Jacking off

(Mentioned in dirty secrets) He really only does it when you're not around. Most of the time, you are the number one thing on Jason's mind, causing him to get hard and have to do something about it.

✯K = Kinks

Size kink - He has a major size kink. He's around 6 feet and he loves the feeling of being bigger than you. He loves towering over you and randomly picking you up, feeling your figure against his chest.

Choking - After he was thrown into the lazarus pit, his grew. A lot. He became stronger as well. He loves the feeling of having control over you. The way you squirm under his grasp makes him feel powerful.

Orgasm denial - He loves to see you beg. Jason wants you begging for even the slightest bit of release. It makes him

✯L = Location (Fav place)

He isn't picky. He will bend you over a sink at your local Arby's if it meant he could fuck you. But Jason loves fucking you in the shower. Him seeing you squirming and moaning under him as he fucks you in a tight secluded space does something to him in so many ways.

✯ M = Motivation (What turns him on)

Jealousy. He absolutely hates it when you talk to other men. He's very possessive over you. The idea of you even taking a small liking to ANYONE pisses him off.

Arguing/bickering. This man loves chaos. It's his natural home. And whenever you two fight, it gets him hard. And that leads to angry makeup sex.

✯N = No (Turns offs)

Gun/knife play - NEVER. He would hate to put you under that kind of thing. Jason would never dream of hurting you. And he grew up in one of Gotham's crime alleys. He knows all the disgusting things that happen.

Threesomes are a no. He hates sharing, especially when it comes to you. The slightest thought of it angers him. He also does not want anyone else to look at you.

✯O = Oral (Preferences in giving receiving, skill, etc..)

This man knows how to eat pussy. He'd eat you out like it's his last meal. He's good at it. He knows what makes you scream. But Jason also doesn't mind being given head. He teases you, calling you a "good girl" and he praises you when you swallow his come.

✯P = Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and gentle?)

It'd depend on his mode really. But he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. He'll definitely hold your hand. And later on, he'll run you a bath and take care of you.

✯Q = Quickie (his opinion, how often etc..)

He'll never say no to a quickie if you two are down bad. But Jason prefers to take his time with you. He wants you screaming and begging for release. He just loves to tease and make fun of you.

✯R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's not much of a risk-taker. (He def can't be an entrepreneur.) If you want him to try something new, you'd have to beg. And it would take a long time for him to actually warm up to it. He'd be okay to use restraints if it's okay with you. But he would never put himself in a submissive position.

✯S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long?)

It would depend on his mood, really. He could definitely go for a round or two if it's just casual sex. But if he's angry or jealous? You will not be able to walk for a few days minimum.

✯T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? do they use them on their partner?)

Jason would NEVER use them on himself. He hates feeling submissive and losing control. But on you? Definitely. I feel like he would definitely use handcuffs on you just to stop you from moving your hands so much when he's devouring your cunt.

✯U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jason motherfucking Todd is the biggest tease ever. He will touch you everywhere but where you want him too. He wants you begging for him. Jason wants you screaming his name, begging him to touch you where you want him too.

✯V = Volume (how loud they are, etc...)

Jason isn't really loud. You'll hear an occasional grunt or low moan coming from him. But he will definitely pull your hair and give you an occasional reminder that HE is the one pounding into you.

✯W = Wild card (random headcanon for character)

Jason wants to dominate you. Period.

✯X = X-ray (what's happening under those clothes?)

his cock is def 8-9 inches. no explanation needed.

✯Y = Yearning (sex drive)

Jason definitely has a high sex drive. He would definitely fuck you all day.

✯Z = Zzz (sleep)

He doesn't fall asleep until you do. He wants to make you feel comfortable and protected. He's a gentleman (most of the time) frr.

»»————<3———-««

im def going back into my jason todd phase. maybe i'll do one for dick and bruce. <3

anyway this took so long to write and im tired. VERY TIRED. maybe jason can tuck me into bed and give me a kiss?

[captain-huggy-bear]

With my PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) I take a ton of supplements like inositol and multivits and my most hated chore is putting my weeks worth in my pill organiser, even though its better than finding them all out in the morning from separate places. I feel like Clay does little things to make your life easier especially if they're little chores you hate. I also feel like he's a super supportive partner when you have a condition or illness, whether its changing his diet/lifestyle to help or just reminding you of things.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You wander around almost the entire house trying to find Clay to no avail. It's the middle of the day and you've checked all his usual midday spots. The kitchen where he'd be eating lunch, the living room with a game on for him to study, the garden with Lucky, but still no Clay.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, frowning up them before shouting out his name. It's unusual for Clay to be upstairs during the day, but not out of the realm of possibility.

"Clay?"

You wait a few beats before you hear his voice calling back. Loud enough for you to hear like he knew you were near the stairs and not just down the corridor, knowing Clay he probably did. He had a strangely good judgement on sound direction and distance.

"In the bedroom, baby!"

You make your way up the stairs and down the corridor, stopping in the doorway of your shared bedroom to see him hunched over your weekly pill organiser. His large hands fiddling with pouring out the right number of each of your supplements for your PCOS, occasionally dropping a few on the vanity and swearing, especially some of the tinier ones. He's focused, meticulous, each day being done in order, both morning and night.

"Clay? What are you doing?" You take a step further into the room.

"Sorting your pills for you." You can see that but it still doesn't make sense to you. They're your pills, you always organise them, even though you hate doing it. Clay's never done it before, you've never asked him too, he's busy enough with the season as it is.

"Why?"

Clay stops what he's doing, closing the last compartment on your pill organiser and looking up at you with a confused look, brow, the one that's still scarred from the puck to the face, lifting.

"Baby, you hate doing it." He says it so matter of fact, like that answers your question, as he stands and starts making his way towards you, a few long strides closing the distance.

"Okay?"

"So I figured I could sort it out before I have to leave for the roadie this week, that way you don't have to worry about it." It's really sweet but also puts an odd sort of panic through you, a fear that he feels like he has to do this, like he feels forced to.

"You don't have to do that, I'll do it." You try to insist even when it's obvious he's finished sorting it for the week, even as he smiles at you with a patient sort of amusement. The sort reserved for someone who's being silly but endearingly silly.

"Sweetheart, I want to do it." Clay tugs you towards him by the hands until you're in his arms, his palms resting on your lower back.

"But..."

He cuts you off, forehead pressing into your own, eyes half-lidded, a soft sort of smile directed at you. He loves you and he wants you to understand that this isn't a chore for him, it's something he wants to do for you, something he takes a certain pride in. Something he wished he'd been doing from the start, rather than just thinking to do it now. He likes taking care of you.

"I want to make your life easier...you're already dealing with your PCOS. The last thing I want is for you to get stressed out about sorting your pills out or forget to do it." He sees the strain you're under, the stress of trying to eat right for your body, to follow a million and one rules just to manage your symptoms and keep your body from fighting you. How you fight with your body dysmorphia on bad days. The last thing Clay wants is you to have to worry about something he can help with. He can't fix everything, he can't take your PCOS away or make your body work for you the way you want it to. But, he can do this.

"...Thank you..." You whisper it close enough to his lips that your breath is warm against them and he has to resist the urge to kiss you before he can respond because Clay's not done yet.

"Baby, I love you...you don't need to thank me for taking care of you." He knows you often feel like a burden, some leftover from your childhood, where you grew to feel like your needs were too much. Like you had to be thankful always in order to keep someone around. He hates it because he doesn't need thanks for looking after you, for loving you. He just does it.

"I know. Still, thank you. I love you...even if you didn't do this sort of thing, Clay, I'd still love you."

"I know, sweet girl."

This time he does kiss you, mouth slanting over yours for a deep kiss as his hands slip to your arse. He can't always be there. His work gets in the way, but things like this? Taking care of your pills or making sure the food in the house is the stuff you can eat? That he can do and it's his way of making sure you're taken care of, of saying he loves you without having to say it.

[ninus9607]

❝𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬❞

𝟣𝟣. 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒/𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝑒𝓉𝒸…

Pairing(s): Marvel Characters x Female! reader

Word count: 3.6k

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DEATH AND BLOOD

tags: l content: fluff, jealousy, blood, death, Comfort Fic, Mission Gone Wrong, Kidnapped Reader, Injured Reader, Possessive Love, Emotional Support

AN: HEYY GUYSSS, I hope u like it! SORRY FOR EVERY MISTAKE HAHAH, ALSO my requests are stillll opennn so feel free to ring me up!

xx

Steve Rogers / Captain America

You were wrapping up a busy morning at the flower store when it happened. The bell above the front door rang, indicating another customer, but this time, a bunch of guys jumped in. They were harsh and definitely not here to buy flowers. They did not say anything, but grabbed you and demanded to know where Captain America was. You attempted to struggle back, but their hold was too powerful. One of them held a pistol to your side, which silenced you quickly. You were afraid.

They pulled you out of the store and threw you in the back of a vehicle. Your thoughts and heart were racing.

They wanted Steve, and they knew exactly how to find him. As the van raced away, you realized you wouldn't be able to get out of this alone.

Hours passed, and Steve had no idea. He was in the middle of a meeting with the Avengers when his phone rang with an unfamiliar number. His stomach fell just when he replied, when he heard your voice shaking on the other end of the line.

"Steve... they took me."

Steve was a man of action, therefore, there was no time to spend. He dropped everything and instantly began planning to get you back. The drive to the destination was a haze. Steve's hands gripped the wheel tightly, his thoughts racing through every possibility. He was aware of the risks. He knew that the guys who were capturing you would not hesitate to hurt you. However, there was no turning back. He was not going to lose you like that.

He eventually arrived in an abandoned warehouse, as the kidnappers had described. It was disturbingly silent. Steve crept inside, his senses on full alert. He went fast and quietly, taking down every guard in his way. His concentration was focused on one thing: bringing you to safety.

When he finally found you, you were trapped in a small room with your wrists tied and your face pale from stress and a lack of food. You looked up, shocked to see him, but the relief rushed over you and caused your chest to constrict. Steve raced up to you without saying anything, his hands quickly reaching for your shackles. He mumbled your name and looked you over quickly.

"It's okay, I'm here," he murmured, his voice raspy with emotion. "You're safe now."

You nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything, tears welling in your eyes. He drew you into his arms, clutching you hard as if proving to himself that you were indeed present, alive, and in his arms.

Headcanons:

Steve's Protective Nature: After the kidnapping, Steve becomes extremely protective of you. He's constantly checking in on you to make sure you're well and nothing else happens. If you are out of his sight for too long, he becomes nervous.

Steve's physical affection has grown more intense, particularly in public places. He does not mind showing affection, but it is obvious that he is still dealing with the fear of losing you. When you're together, he'll make a point of holding your hand or wrapping his arm around you, especially if others are there.

His Guilt - Steve feels terribly bad about the incident. He hates himself for not defending you sooner, which often leads to times of silent meditation in which he simply stares out into space, thinking. He may even apologize repeatedly, regardless of your assurances that it was not his fault.

The First Time He Lets Himself Sleep- Steve struggles to sleep after settling in for the first time. He is terrified of losing you, and he is often up at night, keeping an eye on you. He eventually comes to trust that you are secure. The first time he falls asleep in your arms, he gets his first complete night of sleep in days.

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Tony Stark/ Iron Man

You used to joke with Tony that dating a millionaire Avenger was a combination of luxury and near-death incidents. You never believed you'd be proven correct.

It started as a routine day at the Stark-Malibu mansion. The sun was beautiful over the water, the AI was playing your favorite music while you prepared breakfast, and Tony had just stepped in wearing nothing but sweatpants and his smug little smirk.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he replied, stooping down to kiss your forehead before pouring his coffee.

You expected another quiet day. You were wrong.

It happened quickly.

The windows smashed first. A missile, followed by another, struck the cliffside property with terrible power. You shouted as glass rained down around you, and you ran behind the bar just in time. The house is shaking. The alarms boomed.

"JARVIS, suit!" Tony shouted, and in an instant, bits of his Iron Man armor rushed towards him from across the room, clamping onto his upper body.

He looked at you while explosions shook the floor of your house. "Stay down. No matter what, don't leave this area."

"Tony!"

But he was already gone, flying into the sky to stop anybody who tried to harm his house. You shook, your heart pounded, and your ears rang. The mansion crumbled around you. Smoke engulfed the air. You couldn't breathe.

You crawled into Tony's hidden panic room, murmuring prayers under your breath that he would be well.

Not until the door was wrenched open and Tony appeared in the entrance, covered in soot and grime, eyes wild until they landed on you.

"You're okay," he whispered, falling to his knees in front of you. "You're okay."

Headcanons:

After the attack, Tony activates Hyper-Protective Mode, providing complete protection. He replaces your phone with Stark-level technology, provides you with AI security, and insists on putting defensive procedures anywhere you go, even your favorite bookshop. 

Tony sleeps with one eye open and struggles to sleep properly for weeks afterwards. When he does, it's just wrapped around you, with fingers continually touching some part of your body—as if he needs constant confirmation that you're real and alive.

Shower Moments: Tony often avoids talking about his feelings, but the post-traumatic stress brings them to the surface. You'll be standing under the water as he carefully washes your hair, murmuring how sorry he is and how he'll never allow you to be in that type of danger again.

Guilt and Fear: Tony has deep guilt and dread. He had always feared that his opponents would target those he cared about, and now it has come true. He gets nightmares about it. He even considers shoving you away for your own safety, but the moment you see that expression in his eyes, you shut it off immediately.

"Do not even think about it, Stark. We are a team. You and I."

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Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier 

It was supposed to be a regular infiltration mission. Inside and outside. Minimal contact. You and Bucky had done this a hundred times: two shadows moving as one. Professional, crisp, and focused.

But it didn't matter when the information was incorrect. While the enemy was waiting.

You didn't even hear the gunshot. Just feeling the sting in your side and the way your legs collapsed beneath you. You landed hard, your breath seizing in your throat as your fingers brushed against the cut, wet with blood.

"Y/N!"

Bucky was at your side in seconds, diving to his knees, eyes wild, one hand cradling your face and the other clamping down on your wound.

You attempted to speak, but your voice broke, and sorrow shot through your body.

"Hey, hey. Don't talk. You're okay. You're going to be fine," Bucky whispered, his voice low and angry, as if he was forcing it to happen.

The following few minutes were blurred. Gunfire. Screams. And Bucky transformed into something unrecognizable, as if his Winter Soldier instincts had snapped into place and the only thing that mattered now was to defend you.

He snatched you into his arms as if you weighed nothing, clutching you to his chest as he tore across the property. You could hear his pulse racing, feel his breath on your hair, and the way he repeated your name like a prayer.

"I've got you, doll. You are secure now. Please hold on. Do not close your eyes, okay?"

You awoke hours later in an Avengers. Medical facility, you're side stitched and bandaged, painful as hell, but alive. Bucky sat near your bed, slumped over, clutching your hand as if it were the only thing holding him together in the world.

He appeared to have remained still.

"You scared the shit out of me," he said, his voice scratchy. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled weakly but sincerely. "I didn't plan on getting shot, Buck."

He did not reciprocate the smile. Instead, he leaned in, placed his forehead to yours, and breathed you in.

"You are everything to me." I can't lose you."

Headcanons:

Human Body Armor: Bucky refuses to let you lead the front line after that incident. Even during missions, he puts himself in front of you, metal arm ready, eyes continually searching. Even if you object, he will protect you.

Overprotective but Soft: He is both overprotective and soft, keeping a close eye on you without overwhelming you. Always be sure you eat, relax, and heal. He acts like a guard dog, yet he wraps you in his sweatshirt and kisses you on the forehead before tucking you into bed.

Haunted by "what ifs": He has witnessed too much loss. Losing you would break him. Following the mission, he silently spirals—he rarely sleeps, checks on you every hour, and even sits outside the medbay at night to listen to your breathing.

Will Kill For You: No one talks about what Bucky did after you were shot. But everyone knows. There were no survivors left in that building. And he made sure your blood was the last one spilled.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Loki Odinson/God of Mischief

In Asgard, victory was usually followed by a celebration. The palace sparkled with glittering flags and tables brimming with food and drink. The air was filled with music, laughing, and the heavy smell of battle-won pride.

You were not immediately involved in the celebration. As a maid, you had to move silently, clean fast, and remain out of the soldiers' path. However, the aftermath of conflict has delivered something else: prisoners, war-beasts in human form, bound and growling, hauled into the dungeons underneath.

Nobody expected them to escape.

You were merely in the wrong corridor at the wrong moment, on your way back to the servants' quarters, when you heard a sudden, violent crash behind you. You turned just in time to see one of the larger prisoners lunging out of the shadows, bloodied, wild-eyed, and enraged.

You hardly had time to scream before he grabbed your wrist and pushed you back into the wall.

"Pretty little thing," he scoffed.

Your heart smashed. You struggled and were frightened, but he was stronger. Too powerful.

And then he showed up.

Emerald glints. A burst of rage.

The opponent was leering at you one second, and the next he was gasping on his own breath, magically held in place. Loki showed up out of the shadows, his eyes glowing green and his power crackling in the air like electricity.

"I would think very carefully about your next breath," he said, his voice low and nasty.

The prisoner never got the opportunity to speak. Loki's blade slashed his throat in an instant—quiet, quick, and brutal.

He quickly turned to face you, his eyes still gleaming from the last pulse of power. "Did he touch you?" he said, his voice shaking with wrath rather than fear.

You shook your head, too stunned to speak.

His hand lifted, paused, and finally rested lightly on your cheek. "You are secure now. I am here."

Headcanons:

Feral, Silent Protector: Loki does not make a huge statement about what happened. But from that day forward, you're never alone. As you walk the corridors, you observe how the shadows alter. Guards nod at you with odd reverence. You always get the feeling that someone is watching you, but not in a horrible manner.

Possessive to the Core: Loki is possessive and subtly claims you. There's no spectacular statement; he simply starts showing up more. Giving little grins. Standing by your side. Looking at everyone who speaks to you for too long, as if he's measuring them for a coffin.

Gives You Power: You discover that you have suddenly been granted new rights. Fancier chambers. Lighter duties. A lovely necklace adorned with protective runes - "a gift," he adds casually, yet the enchantment enters your skin like his promise.

Little Acts of Care: He's subtle, but not shy. He appears with warm tea when you're tired. Offers books you never told him you liked. One day, there's a knife under your pillow - enchanted, beautiful. "Just in case," he murmurs.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

Training sessions with Steve were usually tough, but you enjoyed the challenge. He was patient, motivating and pushed you just the right amount. Until today.

It went on quickly.

You were sparring hand-to-hand, deflecting his punches and dancing just out of range. But one step too late- one miscalculation, and his foot collided with your knee more forcefully than expected. You dropped with a sudden yell, pain shooting up your leg as you grasped the joint.

Steve knelt immediately, an apology washing across his face. "Shit Y/N, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

But before you could respond, she was there.

Natasha burst into the training room like a red flash, her gaze fixed on you before switching to Steve with ice-cold precision. "What the hell happened?"

"She took a hit, wasn't meant to land like that," Steve said, raising his hands.

Natasha did not even glance at him. She crouched behind you, pushing your hair away from your face, her gaze sweeping across your entire body.

"You're done for today," she said quietly, slipping her arms beneath you before you could argue.

"Nat,  I can walk! "

"No, Milaya. You don't get to debate. You got injured. You are mine. I am taking care of you."

You looked up at her, shocked, as she effortlessly grabbed you into her arms and took you to the medbay, ignoring everyone else in the gym, including a very embarrassed Steve.

"I'm not mad," she said softly into your hair. "But I am going to kill him just a little bit later."

Headcanons:

Ultra-Protective Mode ON: She's already protective on a normal day, but the second you get hurt? She's locked in. No more training unless she's there. She even makes you wear knee pads when walking around the Tower as a joke, but deep down, she's serious.

Scary Calm with others: She does not shout. She does not throw punches. But her quiet is deadly. Steve maintains she didn't say anything after the incident, but he remains scared of her glare.

Shadows you for days: She stares. Always around the corner. Constantly keeping an eye on everything. Do you go to the kitchen? She's already prepared your tea. Do you wince when walking? She's already by your side, her arm around you.

Loves babying you: She won't say it, but she enjoys caring of you. She brings you to bed, rubs your knee, carefully bandages it, and kisses your forehead as if it were sacred.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch

It was supposed to be a straightforward observation mission. Inside and outside. No major clashes or shocks. However, those are always the messiest.

You were teamed with two fresh recruits (Wanda was not on the team this time), and somewhere along the road, a concealed Hydra sniper fired a shot. The bullet touched your side, drawing blood but not killing. Nonetheless, it was scary. You were able to patch things up and complete the assignment. Barely.

However, as soon as you returned to Avengers base, everything changed.

She did not speak when she saw you. Her hands trembled. Wanda ran across the corridor and held you in a tight, magic-warmed hug before you had time to catch your breath.

You could feel her body trembling against your own.

"You didn't call me," she muttered. "You got hurt. And I was not there."

"I didn't want to worry you..."

"I felt it, Y/N."

Her voice was soft. Almost childish. But there was something darker lurking beneath the surface of her gaze. The red mist wrapped around her fingers, like if it had its own awareness.

"I felt something snap in the air," she said softly. "And then I looked at my phone and saw your name in the mission report and—" She cut off, breathing shakily. "You're not allowed to do that. You don't get to be brave alone."

Before you could respond, her hands caressed your face. Gently. Carefully.

"I almost tore apart that compound just to find you."

Headcanons:

Telepathy Check-ins: She starts using her powers more often, telepathically checking in on you without asking. You'll be brushing your teeth and hear, "Are you okay?"inside your head. She tries not to intrude. Tries....

Cries When You Flinch: If you wince or shift in pain, even a little? She looks like the world is ending. She apologizes a thousand times even if she didn't cause it.

You catch her reading spells: One night, you find her in the living room, surrounded by books on blood magic and protective sigils. She's talking to herself, her eyes burning.

"You're not allowed to get hurt again," she adds quietly. "I won't let it happen."

Sleeps Curled Around You: She won't sleep till you're in her arms. She's afraid of dreams. Yours and hers. So she stays up longer, simply watching you breathe.

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Agatha Harkness

It started quickly.

One moment, you were wandering along the edge of the forests outside town, the moonlight soaking your skin and the chilly night air keen with magic. You felt a rush of fury before you saw her. Not yours. Hers.

Agatha had met paths with a witch decades before, angry, bitter, and now brave enough to seek revenge. You didn't have time to respond before the air cut apart. Hundreds of sharpened wood spikes flew your way.

One of them hit.

Right below your collarbone. Close. Too close.

You did not scream, but you stumbled back, your chest searing with sorrow. You reached up, your fingers dripping with your own blood. Even for a vampire, a cut this near to the heart may have been deadly.

Then Agatha came.

The air crackled with blue lightning, a wild force. Something inside her cracked when she saw you.

"You," she hissed, charging towards the other witch like a hurricane on two legs. "You DARE touch my WIFE"

The other witch did not have a chance.

It was not a duel. It was a massacre.

You didn't know how long it lasted, how many times Agatha attacked her with spells you couldn't even remember, but when it was over, all that remained was smoke, shattered dirt, and Agatha standing in the dark, her chest rising and falling like she'd been hunting prey.

Her eyes were gleaming as she turned to face you. Her hands shook. Her fingers were stained with blood when she reached out for you.

"You're all right," she whispered. But she did not seem convinced. "You're alright."

You were still standing. Barely. "You should see the other witch," you attempted to joke.

Agatha did not laugh.

Her lips touched your temple. Then, your jaw. Then the area around your wound. Her voice lowered to a whisper, almost reverent.

"She was half an inch away from taking you from me."

Headcanons:

Possessive doesn't begin to cover it: She doesn't let you out of her sight for days. Follows you around the house. Watches you sleep, even though she knows you heal fast.

She cannot stop caressing you: Her hands are continually resting on your neck, wrists, and back, as if she needs to remind herself that you are there. That you did not die.

Love confession through rage: "You don't get it," she hisses one night as you try to calm her down. "You are the only thing I have ever loved without falling apart. If she had stolen that from me, I would have destroyed the world."

"I should've killed her centuries ago." She blames herself. She won't say it out, but she thinks about it every time she sees the wound. She feels that allowing the witch to live was her only mistake, and you paid the price. 

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Rio Vidal/ Death

You were not even meant to be on the battlefield.

You'd simply come and bring herbs and assist healers in patching up the injured. That is all. However, conflict is unconcerned with your work, especially among chaotic people who would rather see the world burn.

A cursed soldier, blood-soaked and barely alive, struck out the instant you approached him. When his sword sliced across your ribs, you didn't scream; your breath just fled.

And for a little second, you saw her.

She stepped out of the smoke. Silent. Unmoving. Eyes like storms. Death.

But rather than taking you, she kneeled alongside you.

"I told you," Rio muttered, her voice barely contained. "This world doesn't deserve you."

You attempted to grin. "Hey... look who showed up."

Blood dripped from your lips.

Rio did not laugh. She lifted your body with unbelievable gentleness, as if you were made of light and glass, and vanished with you into the fog.

The last thing you recalled was her voice in your ear:

"Don't die on me. If you do, I will personally drag you back. Even if I have to remove your soul from heaven."

Headcanons:

Furious with whoever hurt you, Rio doesn't kill him right away. She hunts him.  And when she's done, there's no one left to bury.

Takes you somewhere only the dead know: A world of peace. You are the only living being there. She keeps you covered in warm shadows, utterly safe and entirely hers.

You're never allowed to walk alone again:  She appears whenever you attempt to travel alone. Even in the garden. Even into the kitchen. "Don't argue, mi amor," she adds quietly. "You're not ready."

Territorial behavior turned possessive: After your injury, she doesn't let anyone else near you. No medics. No friends. Only her. She bathes you. Feeds you. Heals you with her own energy.

[shortstrawberry]

A RL AU where Donna is Dr. Donna Beneviento, your Professor of Botany and Toxicology. Because we deserve it.

You met Dr Beneviento in a totally cliche way. By bumping into her while you're running late for your first day at college. At that time you didn't even realise she is a professor at the college. Dr. Donna has this young baby face that would make anyone think she's a senior at college, and not a woman well into her thirties.

So it's no wonder that you made a complete fool of yourself in the first meeting. You apologise 10 times for knocking her books all over the place. You also noticed her trying to hide her scarred side of face while gathering the very same books with you. Like a over enthusiastic idiot, you went ahead and tried to make your future professor feel comfortable about it with you.

"Scars are beautiful in my opinion. They show you survived so much. You don't need to hide them, at least from me."

Thankfully, Dr Beneviento didn't take any offence to your eager compliments, and instead just blushed and smile at you. That was enough for you to get your first crush at college. But like the gay panicky idiot you are, you didn't take her name or number. Still, you figured your roommates would know about her. How hard can it be to find a beautiful pale faced senior in college?

Not so hard, you figured out as the very same beautiful woman showed up in your Botany lecture. That's right, the woman you had tried to shamelessly flirt with was your Professor.

Understandably, you were mortified. You approached her after class, fully intending to kowtow before the professor in apology. Dr Beneviento though shyly waved your apologies away, instead asking you to assist her in her botanical garden.

A first year being asked to be a professor's assistant is no doubt strange. But Dr Beneviento was so insistent you take the job. She even went ahead and assured you a good pay and two days holiday in a week. Something she honestly didn't even need to do. You were already such a simp for her and would have done it for free.

And so starts you getting to know your Botany professor up close. The woman was almost always squeaky shy, the tempo of her voice barely reaching above her whisper. But when she stands on her podium, teaching a batch of 100+ students, you swear a spilt personality takes over the normally shy professor. It shows that Donna knows the shit she is teaching, and she demands respect over it from her students.

However, it soon became obvious that Dr Beneviento harbours a sweet spot for you. You'll always remember that one moment where she had caught you sleeping in one of her classes. You had stayed up all late tending to the new batch of soil you're preparing for the garden. The usually impartial professor came up to your seat, took off her trenchcoat and draped it over your sleeping form. She even went ahead patting your head before continuing with her class. She also did this in front of 100+ students.

After this, you can't help but get your hopes up high. Still, she's your professor and there's nothing you can do on your end. What if you have it all wrong and Dr Beneviento cares for you because you're her niece Angie's friend? And so you keep quiet.

Little do you know, Professor Donna Beneviento fell for you at first sight. Inviting you to be her botanical garden assistant was a ploy to get close to you. Inviting you and Angie to her cottage for dinner was a ploy to get to know you outside of classes and work. But just like you, Donna is also afraid of making the first move. Especially when you're still her student and she is so much older then you in age. For now, she is content to admire you from as close as she can get to you.

Wanna see a jealous and possessive Professor Donna in action? Let me know!

[amphitriteswife]

One sided love

Summary: blud realized he suffers from second ml syndrome

Warnings: dohwa crying, it’s platonic

Pairing: Beak Dohwa x fem! Reader

Tagging: @erinnea

Being friends with Dohwa had it’s ups and downs. Many didn’t like you being close to him. And other’s thought the two of you made a great couple. But for you and Dohwa it was just platonic friendship. He likes Su ae, you already had a boyfriend from another high school. Many didn’t know about the crush dowha had on Su ae, but they did know that your ‘boyfriend’ usually visited you from time to time if he skipped school. Dohwa liked the way your relationship with him is, there are no secrets, no lies, only truth and honesty which he appreciates. It was flawless. Perfect and the best example of a girl and a boy being friends…yet there was one disagreement which caused a strain in your friendship: Su ae

One might think you were jealous of dohwa liking Su ae, but was that really the case? Ofcourse not. The problem started with you telling Dohwa that you think it’s not smart to pursue a relationship with Su ae. It wasn’t impossible. But you already knew she liked Eunhyuk. It’s obvious isn’t it? Well not for Dohwa. Or perhaps it is and he’s refusing to see it. Love makes one blind after all. Because of the strain the two of you didn’t interact much individually, only with the group or other people, just not the two of you anymore. Keeping the distance made things better in terms of fighting, yet also awkward when you saw him in the hall or outside.

You were hanging out with friends, mutuals friends that also knew dohwa but at the time were having a day out with you. You had planned to go to the arcade and then grab some drinks because the lessons tomorrow started later. It was a nice surprise and it gave you the time to finally socialize after the long and exhausting study days. Yet your relaxing didn’t last long, it took only an hour or so before your phone started vibrating. Excusing yourself, you found yourself outside the bar. Staring at the phone with only a number written on it. It was a number you would always recognize, even if you didn’t have his name saved anymore. Dohwa. It was…difficult to say the least. The two of you weren’t in good terms. And he especially wouldn’t call you out of everyone right? So why is he calling you? Is he in danger? Or does he simply have no one to talk to? There were many questions in your head, but they can’t be answered if you don’t pick up the phone. So that’s what you did.

When you clicked on the green button to pick up, you could hear the sound or rummaging on the other end before you heard the phone getting picked up. A soft but raspy and shaky voice on the other end said hello. If it wasn’t for you knowing Dohwa’s number like it was the most basic thing in the world, you wouldn’t even have recognized the voice on the other end. ‘Hello? Dohwa? Why are you calling me?’ You asked him, bringing the phone to your ear to hear him better. You heard a few heavy breaths at the other end of the line before you heard a raspy yet soft and slightly unstable ‘C-can you come to my apartment?’ Half through his sentence you could hear a soft sob. He was crying…You didn’t really know how to feel about this, the two of you didn’t have a good bond anymore….but he was still someone you cared about…so screw it. Only this time will you do another favor once again.

‘I’m on my way.’ You said before hanging up the phone and going inside the bar again, you told your friends that something urgent came up and that you’d call them when it got sorted out for making plans another day before leaving your part of the bill on the table.

Arriving at Dohwa’s place brought back memories. They were both nostalgic yet painful. You couldn’t help but remember the good old times you spent with him laughing, gossiping, talking or just hanging out. Yet those same memories hurt, aching because it was now past tense. Something that isn’t and hasn’t been a thing for quite a while. Something that was almost forgotten in the back of your mind. It makes you wonder if Dohwa felt the same, did he also miss the close friendship the two of you had? It’s not like the friendship was ever one sided. To be honest…the two of you never even grieved the friendship..

Breaking out of your thoughts, you softly knocked on the door of Dohwa’s apartment, inside you could hear some rummaging and some footsteps coming closer to the door before it fell silent for a moment. You could hear the sound of someone collecting and trying to steady their breath before the door opened. ‘You came..’ Dohwa didn’t look like the person you usually saw in the halls. His eyes were red and puffy. His hair was also disheveled and not in it’s original shape. His cheeks were stained with the wetness of tears and he seemed a little out of breath.

Seeing him like that hurt you. It wasn’t a pleasing sight, even if the two of you weren’t so close..or on the brink of breaking off a friendship it didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. ‘You called.’ You said calmly. He let you into his home, one where you had been many times. It hadn’t changed at all. Like nothing in there had ever been touched. Dohwa lingered a little next to you, unsure if he should speak or not. ‘It’s okay, you can talk to me.’ You told him a little reassuring, smiling at him warmly and putting your purse on the table. Dohwa seemed a little hesitant before he sat on his couch and signaled for you to sit next to him. He took a few deep breaths before he started talking slowly. ‘You were right…’ he said softly. He sounded very heartbroken. And it pretty clear what it meant. He probably now only found out that he had been friend zoned since the beginning and that he frankly, never stood a chance. After all, it was obvious that Su ae and Eunhyuk were supposed to be together, it was common knowledge. They already had chemistry before Dohwa even came into the picture. Everyone knew, except Dohwa. He wouldn’t listen. But…it’s now what he needs right now.

Dohwa hugged you. It was sudden, and perhaps maybe a bit rude. But it’s not like you cared. And neither that you minded, you wrapped your hands around his torso, softly rubbing his back as he buried his head into your shoulder, then the waterworks started. Then the word vomit. You couldn’t even understand what he was saying, it was all just tears, sobbing, incoherent words and shaky breaths. He held you tightly. It was almost as if the two of you were back to normal, like how it always had been. As if nothing ever changed. The same old trust and comfort the two of you found in one another. ‘I’ve always told you right? Never be someone’s second option.’ You told him, rubbing his back even more. Dohwa cried even harder, knowing that he was never considered as a number one. Not even closely. It’s sad…almost pathetic even. ‘I know…i know…’ dohwa choked out. He knew it. But he just wanted to believe it, it was his first experience to love. He really thought that she’d love him the same way he did with her.

You ran your hands through his hair, getting them out his eyes and offering him more comfort. Even if he now has his first experience in heartbreak instead of love, at least one important thing came back. You.

Thank you so much for reading! 🧡💛

[tillichan]

❀˖° [Fluffy Valentine] for @kittywhoo °˖❀

Rose — What makes them realize that they're in love with you?

"Sorry... what?", asked Yoichi awkwardly. The thing is you asked him, if you can do his nails. And even though Yoichi found this embarrassing at first, somehow he just couldn't say "no" to his cute adorable friend. That's how he ended up sitting in front of you, while you were showing him nail varnishes of different colors. And when you asked Yoichi which one he'd like to choose, he chose one of this that caught his eye immediately without even thinking. It took all his willpower to not stare at you, so Yoichi pretended to look out the window, but he stole glances at you from time to time. Yoichi felt himself strangely every time your hands touched his, his heart raced and his face burned, even though the room wasn't so warm. And when you started painting his nails, Yoichi gasped, because he realized that the color he chose instinctively was the color of your eyes. Even though he was nervous from the very beginning, Yoichi got really flustered from awareness of his feelings. Everything fell into place, he was in love with you and that's why he was so flustered. The rest of the time, Yoichi was zoned out, praying that you couldn't hear the sound of his heartbeat. Ah, he was head over heels!~

Aster — Courting/flirting headcanons. How would they act around their crush?

The first thing Yoichi does to win you over he invites you on a date whenever the two of you have some free time, but he pretends that this is just a friendly hangout. Yoichi wants to get to know you better, he starts out slow and tries not to rush into things, enjoying every single step in your relationship. Even though the two of you start as a friends, his intentions are clear. His soft loving gaze, reserved for you, his enthusiastic compliments Yoichi just blurts out because, oh, you're just so perfect, he can't, absolutely can't, hide his feelings about you. Yoichi's love is so pure and obvious, it literally swipes you off your feet. He also would like to become the important person in your life, an essential part of your life, he does his best to make you think about him more, be it some thoughtful gifts, He pretends he bought this just accidentally, but the truth is he spent hours choosing the perfect present. meetings with each other's parents or becoming the person you spend the most of your time with. And, of course. Yoichi wants to confess you as soon as it's possible to call you his girlfriend not only in his dreams.

Lilac — What are they like when they're in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Ah, Yoichi, this lovesick puppy, he's so smitten with you. He isn't smooth or like this, but he's just so in love with you! His feelings are so obvious for others, almost painfully obvious for his friends and they don't hesitate to tease him about it. They call him "lovestruck", "whipped", "simp", all these nicknames stuck to Yoichi. But what he can do? He can't hide his feelings around you, he doesn't even want to try, because Yoichi wants to show you how much he is in love with you. When the two of you are together, Yoichi always has this lovesick smile on his face, while he's looking at you with the moon eyes and talking to you about stuff the two of you find interesting. He doesn't interested in people around him, he only has his eyes on you. Yoichi makes sure that you feel comfortable and loved. You're his priority number one, his time reserved specially for you.

Daisy — How easy is it to embarrass them? What can you do to fluster them and make them melt?

Yoichi gets flustered pretty easily, especially during the crush phase and in the beginning of your relationship. Every time you touch him, compliment him, tell him something sweet, damn, even when you call him by his fist name, all of this makes butterflies in his stomach go crazy and you can see his adorable flushed cheeks. But as soon as Yoichi joined the Blue Lock, he became more confident, even shameless sometimes. And now he switches from cute blushing mess to teasing you back and making you flustered with great success. Despite this you're his beloved girlfriend and Yoichi can't help, but melts into a puddle every time you spoil him with your affection. He lives for the moments when it's just the two of you enjoying each other's presence. And even though he doesn't get flustered so easily now, you still can catch him off the guard and then look at Yoichi turning into the stuttering mess.

Hellebore — Comforting headcanons. How would they help you when you feel down/have a panic attack? And how would you help them?

Being a very empathetic person, Yoichi learned all your habits. He knows when you started getting mad or feeling down by the single expression of your face. And Yoichi does his best to avoid the situations that make you feel uncomfortable. But of course everyone has bad days, so Yoichi is more than ready to comfort you if you feel down for some reason. He is very, very gentle, treating you like you're made of glass. Every time you feel bad, Yoichi cuddles with you, his hand strokes your back gently or he runs his fingers trough your hair, whispering sweet nothing in your ears. If you cry, Yoichi wipes your tears with the softest smile on his face and kisses your eyes then. His actions always make you melt into a puddle of affection and forget about the bad stuff that happened that day.

Even though almost nothing can throw Yoichi off balance, he still has some bad days and the things that disappoint him. Every time Yoichi feels down, he becomes more silent and distant. It's a little difficult for him to open up his true feelings, he doesn't want to show this side of him. But of course you know that Yoichi is disappointed and encourage him gently to open up. Yoichi would be happy if you encourage him to ramble about the things that disappointed him, while the two of you are cuddling. Your words of comfort along with gentle touches help Yoichi to calm down and enjoy the sweet moment you share.

Peony — Nicknames headcanons. What petnames do they have for you? What are their favorite nicknames for you to call them?

In the beginning of your relationship the two of you called each other by last name. It took time to start calling each other by the first name, but it was a really special moment between you two. From that moment on, you and Yoichi call each other by the first name and this's your favorite. Yoichi also likes reducing your full name and adding "chan", he finds this so cute! But sometimes when he feels so smitten with you, "angel"  just flow out of his mouth, he can't control himself. And as soon as Yoichi found out about Kaiser's feelings for you, he started calling you "my princess" or "my queen". "My" is very necessarily since Yoichi wants to show that your heart belongs to him, not to mention that this's true, you're amazing, the embodiment of the queen.

When it comes to Yoichi, he likes when you call him by his first name or again literally any petname including "my": "my boyfriend", "my cutie", "my best football player". His heart flutters, yes, he is yours, he is only yours. His heart, his soul, his love belong to you.

Forget-me-not — Their favorite memory with you?

Yoichi will always remember your first date hangout. He asked you if you'd like to do skiing with him. And when you agreed Yoichi didn't sleep a wink of excitement, dreaming about your date. Even though he has never done this before, Yoichi enjoyed the every single minute of your date. Especially when you taught him to skate, holding his hands in yours. Ah, Yoichi couldn't focus on skiing because he adored your hands. Yoichi thought what that would be like holding your hand as your boyfriend, not as your student. After skiing, you two went to the cafe and take a bite. And then Yoichi walked you home and... He got the courage and took your hand! Even though his heart has beaten like crazy, he was so happy. On this day, Yoichi vowed to himself that he would confess you one day and make you his girlfriend.

Daffodil — Love triangle headcanons. The character who has a crush on you and how does your s/o react to their crush?

Yoichi hates, absolutely hates this fact that Michael Kaiser, his rival, has a crush on his precious, adorable, the most beloved girlfriend. Even though Yoichi always thought that he isn't a jealous or possessive type of boyfriend, now his confidence wavered. Not that Yoichi is doubtful about you, he just feels that he is ready to explode every time he sees Kaiser with you. Fortunately, as soon as Michael realized his feelings, he distanced himself, so current situation is much more peaceful. But the time Kaiser flirted with you to piss Yoichi off, oh, dear, Blue Lock thought that the Apocalypse isn't so far. These two were like Shido and Rin, bickering every day, it almost came to blows. Their poor teammates had to break the fight apart. But Yoichi calmed down as soon as you understood the situation and assured him that he is the only one you have your eyes for.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello Hello!! I saw that you're taking requests? If it isn't too much trouble could I request something for a platonic Alastor x Tailor!Reader? Maybe being besties or gossip buddies? (Since I made an OC design based on ideas)

Oooh! I like this idea and to be honest, it reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about when it comes to Al; I made that one post of KNY’s Iguro Obanai with a Fluttershy! Reader and I have the extreme urge to see Alastor with a Rarity! Reader— but anyway. Let’s try this out

Alastor- Mischievous Rumours

“That’s when Charlie said ‘oh fuck you, Alastor. All you do is stand there, smiling while you watch us struggle and fail’. She’s such a fool for thinking I care for her and her friend’s helpless little struggles. Isn’t that delusional mindset so hilarious, my dear?” Alastor, the Radio Demon, laughs upbeat and eccentric with the radio effect deeply laced through his thick transatlantic accent voice chimes out as the grip on his signature staff-like microphone-cane seems to loosen. Standing completely still and on a nice marble pedestal, the deer Overlord spoke both mockingly and casually to the sweet kind tailor sinner, Leitora. A wonderful talented soul with the needle and thread, when it comes to tailoring coats like his own

“It definitely is, Al” You chime out softly and a bit distracted, hands wondering around the long torn rims of his red pinstriped coat. Only wondering in order to find the out of place tear that Alastor pointed out upon visiting your tailor shop. Some sinner named ‘Sir Pentinous’ had managed to tear off a bit of Alastor’s classic coat and as his most trusted tailor, it’s your job to take care of this little rip and tear within Alastor’s patience

The Radio Demon will not deny… he likes being up on this pedestal and his coat being touched, it makes him feel on top of Hell

“I know, darling. I find it so amusing that she believes I believe in her” This is a common thing Alastor did whenever he came to visit you for a hangout or when he needed you to repair his clothing. He loved to throw shade and shit at the Hotel staff and clients he surrounds himself. He loves to berate Husk for being incompetent, he loves to badly mock Angel Dust for flirting with him, he loves to mock and ridicule Vaggie, and he especially enjoys making fun of Charlie’s ‘delusional’ dream of redeeming sinners. You didn’t mind it, you find Alastor a funny man

“You’ll never believe in redemption, hey?” You also don’t mind snarking and teasing Alastor. He lets it slide with a natural toothy-less smile. His blood red eyes following the way you traverse over to the silver rack of many neatly organised rolled-up fabric bundles to pick out a perfectly shaded and patterned piece of crimson red fabric to begin sewing onto the obvious edge rip on the left side of his coat’s hems

This’ll be over in a few seconds but that doesn’t mean you won’t spend a whole twenty minutes with Alastor, spreading gossip around with him about sinners in your opposite ends. He’ll tell you about Overlords, you’ll tell him about the common Sinners. You like Alastor as a friend for a number of reasons, one of the main reasons being the mere fact you two can chat and gossip around, so fluently and naturally

“Believing in redemption is like believing a heart can beat without blood, darling. It’s just not possible. It’s foolish, mindless, sheltered. All adjectives to explain Charlie as a whole” Alastor is quite brutal with this and you can actually just sense the sourness pouring out of his voice and darker eyes as he speaks once more, his stance still well-mannered and classy but his gripping hand growing firmer, as if bottling up some type of anger deep within his soul. Deciding to not poke the sleeping deer any further, you effectively use your claws to trim off the rest of the string that tied the new fabric chunk onto his coat’s hems and repaired the tear to complete perfection

“Yes, Al. I understand, you are right in that sense”

Like a light switch upon hearing you agree, Alastor is instantly back to smiling more soft and caring with zero fangs visible than the very tense, passive-aggressive wide grin he had just painted on his face. Stepping down, rather gracefully, from the flat round multilayered pedestal, the Radio Demon readjusts his signature bowtie with a flick of his wrist. Sharp long red-tipped black clawed fingers dancing over his snazzy accessorises before facing you once more

He knows that new look of yours very well. A look of kindness and appreciation to see him once more but also urgency and duty. You’re busy and need him to leave but don’t want to say a word to avoid disappointing him

No, he didn’t like that whatsoever and he plans to be just a little bit selfish with one of his most favourites in Hell. He’ll have to take you away from your afterlife-stealing occupation so you can spend a day relaxing with him, drinking some nice warm tea and talking more smack about the people you two despise

Without even hesitating nor really thinking it over, Alastor locks his arm with yours and speaks once more, his kind and actually welcoming gaze and grin never once dropping as he begins to take charge, already deciding what’s going on for you today and he won’t hear you refuse such a idea

So… sorry, you’re gonna have to deal with it

“Darling. Don’t tell me you’re going to kick me out after this? How about you close up shop for today and we go out to a nice café? It’s been a while since it’s just been me and you”

[goosewriting]

Underneath

summary: after getting stationed at the fortress inquisitorius, it seems a certain inquisitor takes an interest in reader.

relationship: inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) me being absolutely delulu, slow-burn-ish??? as it can get at 7k lol, making out at the end and fade to black, sexual tension if you squint, psychometry 

word count: 7.6k

A/N: started writing this back when i restarted JFO and got cal’s inquisitor clothes, so it’s been in the works for quite some time. also i had made pancakes back then and was sad about having no one to share them with, so i shall share them virtually with all of you <3

there's a second part now! go read warmth after this :)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As long as you can remember, you’ve always been fascinated by the way people communicate with each other. Now, as a linguistics and behaviour expert, you count yourself lucky to be one of the probably few people who actually like their job. Stationed in an Imperial office on your home planet, you mainly monitor comms and analyse the occasional security holovid in an attempt to weed out any suspicious activity. 

In fact, it was thanks to you that a rebel cell was found, since you caught a suspicious exchange on unused frequencies, which earned you a promotion. You were content with that already, but then your superior said he’d put in a good word for you, as he’s always felt like you were far more capable than just listening to comms all day, and that you could use your skills better in service of the Empire. 

Fast-forward three months and lo and behold, you’re now stationed at Fortress Insquisitorius. 

It’s the first day and while you’ve got the grand tour of the place by a group of stormtroopers especially assigned to you (you still can’t quite believe you get your own little squad of troopers), there’s still some time before dinner. After dismissing the men, saying you’ll catch up to them later at the mess hall, you walk around, further checking out the place. 

As you turn a corner to a hallway you haven’t been to yet, you notice it looks rather deserted. You check the small sign on the wall; this leads to one of the bigger residential wings, but not yours. So you decide to turn on your heels and head the other way. Except that before you can even take a step in that direction, you’re stopped in your tracks by an invisible force and turned back around again. This hold around you isn’t so tight that you can’t breathe, but you do feel the pressure keeping your arms at your sides and your body suspended in the air, the sole of your boots hanging barely an inch over the polished floor. Unable to resist your captor, you’re met with an Inquisitor, of all people, who slowly walks towards you with one of their hands in the air, holding you in place.

They come to a halt before you, the helmet tilting slightly to the side as the eyes under the red visor study you, out of your view. 

“Who are you?” comes the distorted voice. Despite the modulator, you can tell by the tone and body language it’s a man. You’ve heard stories about Inquisitors, and despite being stationed at their base, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with them. Just your luck, and in an empty hallway no less.

Nonetheless, you tell him your name, station and even your office’s room number. Just in case. 

“I’m new,” you add, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. He remains eerily calm and still all the while. With a polite smile, you throw the question back at him, “And you are?”

His helmet tilts the other way ever so slightly as if your question took him by surprise.

“Inquisitor Kestis,” he replies after a second. “Cal Kestis”

“Well, nice to meet you, Inquisitor Cal Kestis,” you say. If you could move, you’d stretch out your hand towards him out of habit as a greeting, but he probably wouldn’t take it either way, so you’re glad you don’t get the chance to embarrass yourself. Yet, anyway. 

For a few moments, he just stands there with you in his invisible grasp. Is he looking at you? Did he space out? You suddenly feel your stomach complaining about its emptiness.

“Uhm, could you let me down again?” you ask, looking down at the floor tiles and back up at the red visor. “I’d like to go get dinner.”

Without a word, he places you back onto the ground surprisingly gently, then takes off in the direction he came from, disappearing from your view as he turns a corner. Well, you think to yourself with a satisfied nod as you make your way to the mess hall, I think that was a solid first impression. Good job, me.

The next day, you officially start your new job, and you’re all sorts of excited and nervous. You’re still intercepting messages, decoding and translating encrypted communications, but on a much higher level this time. These are important people you’re monitoring. You’re also called as an interpreter when there’s holocalls with parties who refuse to have droids in the room. Besides, the officers and generals seem to actually enjoy having you around, with your happy and optimistic demeanour in this otherwise cold and sterile building. You know that Imperial staff can be rough sometimes, but you’re convinced that the kindness you put out into the world eventually comes back to you. So you make sure to treat everyone equally, with kindness and respect, wearing a smile whenever you get the chance.

The days go on, and you see all sorts of people around the place. You do see some Inquisitors from time to time, mainly in the hangar. Occasionally they make an appearance in the mess hall as well, but they usually sit alone and for a very short amount of time on one of the round tables in the far corner of the mess. You never see Inquisitor Kestis there, though. 

As you sit with your little trooper squad, you chew on a stringy piece of meat deep in thought, not really paying attention to the conversation. This Kestis has you intrigued if you’re being honest with yourself. You still don't understand why he talked to you. The other Inquisitors seem to ignore you, as well as everyone else, most of the time. Besides, Kestis could have just talked to you. There was no need to Force-hold you or anything. Was he trying to show you he’s in charge or something? Doesn’t that mean that he felt threatened? 

With a light scoff at yourself — because the notion of an Inquisitor being intimidated by you is pretty silly — you take another bite of your food, your gaze scanning the mess hall without looking at anything in particular. The thing is that, since you don’t see Kestis in the mess hall like, ever, you only catch fleeting glances of him here and there when you see him slip into the elevator or turn a sharp corner at a hallway. You furrow your brows. It’s almost like he’s avoiding you. And that makes you just much more intrigued in what his deal is.

When the squad is in a good mood, you try to slip a question into the conversation about the Inquisitors here and there, asking if they ever saw their faces or what they’re like, and what they do. The troopers can only tell you the rumours you’ve already heard in a thousand different versions, the details getting more violent and out of hand every time you hear them. You dismiss most of those stories; you’ve noticed that a few Inquisitors walk around without a helmet. And others are pretty direct in their attitude towards others, getting into arguments or even physical fights when something bothers them. So they all want the rest to know who they are and be scared, many even seem to enjoy the fear in people’s faces. But Kestis? The few times you’ve seen him, he moves like a well-oiled machine. His face is always hidden, every movement is calculated, and he doesn’t waste his breath on any unnecessary syllable. That’s just proof that he has a carefully curated persona he wears when he’s out and about. But once he’s alone, when he gets to peel back all those layers? You truly wonder what lies beneath. 

One evening you find yourself thinking about him yet again, suddenly concerned about his eating habits, wondering if he’s okay and eating well. For some reason that you still can’t quite comprehend, you decide to just go to him. After all, if he didn’t want to see you, he’d just send you away, right? By now you’re very well aware about what the Inquisitors are capable of, but you’re both on the same side, so surely there’s nothing to worry about. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your feet carry you to the mess hall that evening.

After you’re done eating (the food today is better than you would have thought), you order a second portion to go. You start walking down the hallway, looking for a console or a droid. You know where the residential wing is, but you don’t know what floor the Inquisitors’ rooms are, and doubt there’ll be specific directions towards them. It isn’t long before you do find an R4 unit, and you ask where the Inquisitor quarters are. The cylindrical droid beeps and jumps a little with a startle, at first unwilling to tell you, afraid that if it does, the droid will be sliced in half. But you promise the droid that you won’t tell on it. So after some more convincing and promising the droid you owe it an oil bath, it finally brings up a holomap of the place, showing you where you want to go with a blinking dot. 

With a pat on the head, you say your thanks and go to where the map said. Soon enough, you find yourself in a wing of the building you’ve not only never been to, but one you didn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for the droid. The design of the walls is even sleeker here, and the sound of your boots echoes through the hallway. The further you walk into this wing, the fewer people and troops you come across. Even the constant rumbling of machinery behind the panels seems to be quieter here. 

After some more minutes of walking, you finally reach the door you’re looking for. There are no signs or name plaques, but you remember the number on the door from the droid’s map. The lettering is almost the same shade of black as the door, so it took you a moment to find the right one. But you’re fairly sure this one should be it. 

Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. In the seconds waiting for a response, you suddenly feel silly about being here. He’s a full-grown man. An Inquisitor. Why did you think he’d need you to bring him dinner? What if he didn’t like it anyway–

The door opens with a whoosh, and you look up. For some reason, you were expecting to be met with the red visor of his helmet. Which now that you think about, doesn’t make sense; if he’s in his quarters, he wouldn’t be walking around with his full uniform on.

Instead, you’re met with a pair of intense yellow eyes, and equally fiery red hair on his head. Your breath hitches and you’re not sure if it’s the surprise of seeing his uncovered face or the realisation that he’s incredibly handsome, and it just caught you off-guard.

He gives you a quick once-over, momentarily looking at the box in your hands, then bringing his eyes back to yours, boring into your very soul.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a flat voice.

“I haven't seen you in the mess hall today. Or, any other day, really,” you explain, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Ever since I've started working here. So I brought some food in case you haven't eaten yet…” Your voice starts trailing off at the end as you once again realise how dumb that sounds out loud.

He holds your gaze a little longer, narrowing his eyes at you as if to scrutinise whether you're being honest or not. While you hope he’ll accept the food in case he actually hasn't eaten yet, that's all you expect to happen. You’re counting on him taking the box and leaving you be, so you can go back to your quarters and continue reading your novel, which you are actually looking forward to.

To your surprise, the Inquisitor takes a step to the side, silently inviting you in. You walk past him, slightly bowing your head as a thanks, and take in his quarters. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it's surprisingly… normal. Bigger than the barracks and other quarters you've seen, including yours, but still normal. There’s a banner with the Imperial emblem hanging on the far wall, a couch on the other side, and a round table with some chairs in the middle, as well as a kitchenette. Everything is neat and clean.

You hear the doors close as you walk to the table and place the box on it, turning back around to Kestis, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“It’s still warm,” you tell him, pointing at the food.

He walks by you to pick up the container, and that’s when you notice he’s still wearing his gloves. It strikes you as odd to be wearing them in the confines of his own room, but to each their own. Kestis walks to the kitchen and pours the food onto a plate and throws away the take-out container, then rummages in a drawer for a fork.  After walking past you to sit at the table, he takes off his gloves and places them neatly next to him on the table.

“Sit,” he orders without looking at you, and takes the first bite. You sit down across from him.

“Have you already eaten?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” you give the honorific a try, and he seems to like it. “At the mess hall.”

“I wouldn’t have any food to offer you either way,” he states, and lifts his gaze to look at you. “This visit is… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry for intruding, Sir. I didn’t mean to. I just–”

“You just what?” He shoots you a look akin to a glare.

“I was just worried, I guess,” you say. He scoffs.

“Please don’t act like you care,” he retorts. “If you need or want something, just tell me upfront.”

“What? No, I- I’m not acting,” you reassure him, raising your hands slightly to underline you’re being earnest. “I’m not trying to gain something in exchange. I was genuinely worried about not seeing you in the mess hall.”

His fork stops mid-way from the plate to his mouth, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” he asks. You squirm slightly in your seat.

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest,” you admit, and you can’t help the defeated slump of your shoulders. “You were the first one who talked to me when I got here out of their own volition and not because of work. After our chat, I was hoping to see you around or something…”

The pause that follows lasts for a couple of seconds only, but it feels eternal. Until finally, Kestis lets out a short sigh and continues eating.

“I usually avoid the mess hall,” he says, his voice much more gentle now. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply. 

Taking the two last bites of his meal, Kestis sets down the fork. That’s my queue, you think.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep imposing,” you say, rising up to your feet, and he does the same. Before turning around, you search his eyes one last time. “That’s really all I wanted to do: to bring you the food. I’ll be going now. Good night, Sir.”

The Inquisitor walks you to the door, and just as you walk past the threshold, his words surprise you.

“Next time you could bring two portions.”

You whip around, but the door whooshes shut with a hiss.

— — —

After that, you two fall into a strange routine where you get dinner to go and bring it to his quarters so you can eat together. The conversations start out as polite small-talk, but soon enough you can broaden your topics, ranging from work to anecdotes and fun facts you picked up here and there. 

While the tone remains polite and all in all pleasant, you do notice that he’s very careful not to touch you. You think it’s because he’s being respectful, but unbeknownst to you, it’s because he wants to get to know you organically, and not pry into the echoes of your belongings. Even if he knows he could, and you’d never even know, and despite his growing curiosity, he feels… compelled to try. For you. Because you bring a refreshing factor into his otherwise stale life, like a gentle melody in the cold vastness of space. 

It’s rare to run into Cal, as he’s recently allowed you (and only you) to call him, in the halls or in the hangar. As fate would have it though, you’re just about to get into a ship with your trooper squad to leave for a job off-planet, while Cal happens to be getting off his own ship at the same time.

You don’t want to disturb him. Even if you want to wave at him from afar really badly, or even call out to him. But you think he’d appreciate it if you keep your relationship, whatever it is, a secret. To your complete surprise however, once he spots you in the ever moving crowd of the busy hangar, he comes to you.

Beelining towards you, he comes to a stop in front of you, sporting his full uniform. And while the group around you stiffens up and some even take a precautionary step back, you feel very at ease in his presence, greeting him like you normally would with a smile. If you’re being completely honest, you feel kinda proud that one of the most feared Inquisitors on base came to you, and that everyone seems so scared of him while you are completely relaxed, though still remaining respectful of course. 

“Welcome back,” you greet Cal with a genuine smile. “I hope your mission wasn’t too eventful?”

“It all went according to plan,” the distorted voice says with a static crackle.

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. 

Cal’s head shifts ever so slightly, the visor looking past your face to something behind your back.

“Is there a problem, trooper?” the Inquisitor asks, standing a little taller as he addresses the soldier who’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“With all due respect, Sir, we’re on a tight schedule-“

The trooper next to him elbows him in the side.

“Is that so,” Cal asks rhetorically, and you can’t really read his tone because of the distortion. Still, you decide to intervene.

“It’s okay, we can still make it on time,” you assure him and shoot the trooper a pointed look while whispering to Cal that he’s new. “But yes, we should probably get going. I’m glad I got to see you, though. Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”

Cal nods and makes room for you to walk past, while the others keep a noticeable distance between the Inquisitor and themselves as they walk around him. When you reach the ramp to the ship, you turn around one last time. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised to see Cal standing there, hands behind his back, facing your direction. You give a little wave with your hand, then hurry up the ramp and take a seat. As the ship takes off, you’re checking the data on your holopad. You suddenly feel something on your cheek, like the faintest caress of a summer breeze, and you could swear you just heard a voice in your head.

‘Come back safely.’

As the ship activates the hyperdrive, your hand involuntarily comes up to touch your cheek where the skin still prickles from what you can only describe as a ghost’s touch. 

— — —

Ever since then, you notice a shift in the way everyone treats you, even your superiors, but especially the troopers. Some seem to get out of your way completely when you come walking down the hall, while others are especially attentive to your needs, offering to help you whenever you look like you’re lost or are searching for something. That one trooper who had spoken up to Cal, you haven’t seen him around at all. In fact, it isn’t until two weeks after the incident that you decide to ask one of your other squad members where he is, and she tells you that he got reassigned to not only a different squadron, but an entirely different planetary system. You have a hunch about who’s responsible for that, but you're still not quite sure why he would go to such lengths. Had he really felt that disrespected? You should watch your tone with him from now on, lest you also be sent to some backwater planet…

However, Cal still acts as he always has around you. You still eat dinner in his room, like you’ve been doing for a while now. And while it may just be your wishful thinking, it seems like his whole body language has finally started to soften too. When it’s just the two of you, his shoulders are not as tense, his jaw not as tight, his eyes not as harsh. Even the way he talks has changed. Others may not notice, but you’re literally trained for this. His choice of words has shifted to a less strictly professional lingo, allowing himself to articulate more freely, as well as use more face expressions, voice tone changes and hand gestures, compared to how he acted when your dinner routine started. At some point, he even stopped wearing his gloves around you all the time.

On one hand, for the past couple of months, dinner has been the highlight of your day. You get to spend time with someone who actually listens to you, not because of work, not because you have data they need, but because they just like to spend time with you. Or at least you hope he does. 

On the other hand, you’ve been noticing a slight knot in your stomach whenever you stand in front of Cal’s door, waiting for it to open. As well as the prick of heat on your cheeks when he reacts to your jokes (you haven’t seen him properly smile or laugh out loud yet, but you’ll get there). And let’s not forget the involuntary hitch of your breath accompanied by the skip of your heart when you discover him in the same room with you when you weren’t expecting to see him. 

Somewhere deep within you, you know what all of those mean. But you like the relationship that you’ve built with him, no matter how weird it is, too much to listen to your gut right now. So you just push all and any thought of that kind waaay back into the darkest corner of your brain, hoping it’ll pass.

— — —

One day, you’re feeling a little blue, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Cal. He asks what the problem is, and you tell him you miss something from your home planet. He assures you, whatever it is, he can get it for you. So you write down some things and he orders them. Only two rotations later, the package is at his door. 

He's really curious to open it but decides to wait for you to get there that evening. When you’re finally in his quarters and he shows you the box, you’re super happy and unpack everything: it’s candy, some fruits he’s never seen before, a jar of what looks like herbs, and another jar with a blue spread of sorts. 

You hum, thinking about what to show him first, and decide to go for the jar with the spread. Picking it up, you’re about to start explaining what it is while you open it, but whatever you plan to say gets cut off because of your fruitless effort to screw open the lid. You give it a second try, but it just won’t budge.

With a sheepish look, you wordlessly hand him the glass and when he takes it, there’s a cocky smile on his face that you’ve never seen on him before. You bite your tongue just in time to stop some witty remark, because it would have been a jumble of sounds and no coherent sentence anyway. For in a split second, all those feelings and thoughts you have been repressing come back all at once in one massive wave that crashes over you, drowning everything else around you.

If that small of a change in his face has such a big effect on you, you wonder what else there is. What would a proper smile on him look like? Would he ever properly smile at you? With you? For you? And if it was the other way around, if it was you wearing a cocky grin, looking down at him, how would he—

Oh, oh no. You’re in it bad. So bad. 

The sound of your name snaps you back to reality, where Cal is offering you the now open jar, waiting for you to take it. You blink a couple of times, your eyes moving from his face to the jar, then back to his face. One of his brows rises to give you a questioning look. Heat spreads on your face, ears and neck at the multiple images that appeared in your head. You give him a quick thanks, grab the jar, and turn around to hide from his gaze. Already familiarised with his kitchen, you walk up to the counter to rummage in the drawer for a spoon. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart, you turn back around. Cal is still standing by the table, following your every movement with his yellow eyes. And for some reason, you feel like all the walls you had managed to pick away at ever so slowly have been pulled up again around him.

You’ve heard stories of Force users being able to read minds, and right now you really hope they’re not true. What if he can sense your thoughts? Is he… disgusted at you? 

Somehow managing to regain your composure and willing away most of the prickling heat on your face, you explain to him what this spread is called in your mother tongue, which translates to something like “sweet of milk”, and how delicious it is.

You’re still by the counter, not really wanting to get into Cal’s space, and you take a spoonful of the jar’s contents and put it into your mouth.

“Hm, it’s so good,” you say, offering him the spoon to give it a try himself.

He suddenly seems to revert to his normal self and approaches you, grabbing a new spoon from the drawer. Ah, you should have known, he doesn’t like sharing cutlery. Or cups. Or… anything, really. Odd, but you’ve always just attributed it to him being scared of germs or the like, which is very valid. It’s probably the same reason why he’s wearing gloves all the time, especially outside. 

As he twists the spoon in his mouth, you see Cal’s face light up for the first time; he likes it. You’re relieved.   

“So glad you like it! Alright then, let’s make some pancakes. You’re going to love them,” you exclaim. 

Seeing the rest of the imported goods on the table, you tell him to try some candy while you work. You take off your bracelet, leaving it next to the box, and roll up your sleeves to get to work.

While the pancakes are cooking, you watch Cal’s reaction to the sweets. He first inspects it closely in his fingers; it’s shaped like a short stick with stripes in different shades of pink. You tell him the wrappers have trivia facts about animals, but they’re written in your native language. So while he chews on the soft candy, he walks over to you, holding out the wrapper for you to read.

“What does it say?” he asks, and you can’t help feel extremely endeared. Your eyes fall to the paper in his hands.

“It’s about banthas. It says that both females and males have a pair of spiralling horns, and they grow a knob a year. So you can tell the age of banthas by how curly their horns are,” you read out loud. “Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Interesting,” Cal remarks with a short nod of his head. He chews some more on the candy while inspecting the drawing of the bantha on the wrapper. He seems to like them a lot. In fact, he goes back to the table and takes a second one. He asks you what they’re called again, saying he will probably order some more for himself. 

Flipping yet another pancake, you tell him their name and smile to yourself, glad you managed to introduce something nice and colourful into his life. Not that being an Inquisitor wasn’t fun… was it? Truthfully, you have no idea how they feel about what they do out there. You’ve tried getting something out of Cal, but whenever the topic of his work comes up, he shuts you out. You also try not to listen too closely to the gory details of their work that are talked about in quick whispers in the hallways. Either way, you like to think that you broke whatever monotony there could be for Cal, even if only a little bit. Maybe he even looks forward to your moments together, as you do.

The Inquisitor asks what the other jar with the herbs is. You explain that it’s actually leaves for an infusion, and ask if he could put the kettle on.

Suddenly this whole moment feels strangely domestic, and you reprimand your heart for yet another beat it just skipped. It’s just a normal hangout between… colleagues. Making pancakes and having tea. Absolutely normal, strictly professional behaviour, yes. 

You flip the last pancake and watch as Cal stands up to get back to the kitchen, but when he puts the jar with the tea leaves back on the table without really looking, his bare hand grazes your bracelet. With a sharp breath through his teeth, he suddenly tenses up, and his gaze is fixed on some spot behind you, without really focusing on anything. You’re not sure what’s happening, but he’s completely frozen up, and you start panicking.

After turning off the heat on the stove, you hurry to stand in front of the Inquisitor, unsure what to do. You call his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t react. Your hand comes up to the side of his arm but you hesitate, stopping just before touching him. Looking up at him, you try calling his name again; still no reaction. So you don’t really have a choice. You place your hand on his upper arm and give him a gentle shake.

“Cal,” you call yet again. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

He takes a big gulp of air, as if he had forgotten to breathe all this time. After blinking a couple of times, it seems he’s back with you, and his eyes dart back to yours, boring into your skull with an intensity that takes you off guard. You’re quick to remove your hand from him and instinctively take a step back to give him some space.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask. “You just spaced out really hard for a moment.”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he replies, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter. “It was… something occurred to me that really took me by surprise, is all.”

“… Right,” you stretch out the word, waiting for him to explain what he meant further, but he reverts completely back to normal in an instant. 

“You asked me to put the kettle on, right?” he asks and is already on his way to the kitchen. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you follow him with your gaze, confused, then remember an important detail, so you join him in the kitchen. “Oh, but don’t let it boil. That will ruin the leaves. Just gotta heat up the water.”

“Got it.”

— — —

After some more preparations, you’re both sat at the table, and you show him how to eat the pancakes. They’re not like the thick, small pancakes he knows. These ones are larger in diameter and very thin. You demonstrate how to evenly apply the blue spread, stack the cubes of fruit you prepped, then roll up the pancakes like a tube and pick it up in your hands.

“Ta-da,” you exclaim. “And now, enjoy.”

Taking a big bite, you squeal at how good it tastes. It’s been ages since you’ve had this! 

Cal imitates what you did earlier, putting together his own pancake tube, and takes a bite as well. Even he can’t help the low moan that escapes through his nose at this fantastic combination. You giggle at the sight, enjoying it immensely that you get to see all these sides to him that probably no one else has seen. Once more, your brain is invaded by the thought of what else there might be to Inquisitor Cal Kestis. If he allowed you to lower wall after wall, layer after layer… what would you discover? 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the images starting to form. Nope, can’t go there. 

Instead, you decide to show him how the tea is brewed. You grab a small cup and pour some tea leaves in there, which are chopped much more finely than other loose tea Cal has seen. Then you place the special straw that came in the box in the cup. Cal has never seen something like it; it’s essentially a metal tube that is flat at the top and ends in a bulbous shape at the bottom full of little holes.

“So, let me get this straight,” he starts once he understands the mechanics behind your concoction. “Instead of putting the contained leaves in water and then removing them to drink the tea, you just put loose leaves in the water and filter it through the straw to drink the tea?”

“Essentially, yes!”

“That’s so many extra steps…”, Cal sighs, bringing his hand up to hold his temple.

“It’s literally the same,” you laugh. “Just in a different order.”

Pouring hot water into the cup, careful not to overspill it, you offer the cup to him.

“The things you make me do…” he says under his breath, taking the cup and giving it a tentative sniff. 

“Oh please,” you say teasingly, and a grin spreads on your face as you prop up your chin on your elbows. “As if you’re not having the time of your life today. I saw how many candies you ate earlier.”

Cal’s eyes dart down to your lips and back up so quickly that you miss it. With a defeated sigh, he gives the tea a try, grimacing at the bitter taste. You chuckle.

“It certainly is an acquired taste, but give it a chance. It gets better with time, trust me.” Kinda like you, you think.

He looks at the cup and back at you, kinda lost on what to do now.

“You’re supposed to suck on the straw until there’s no more water left, then you pass it back and I pour another one,” you explain.

“So many extra steps,” he repeats with a playful shake of his head, but he does as you said, if only to humour you. Once the straw makes the typical noise of there not being any more liquid at the bottom of a cup, he passes it back to you. With a smile, you pour more water into it, and have a drink yourself. He seems a bit shocked about that.

“Oh yeah, this is a drink passed around in a group, and everyone drinks from the same straw…,” you explain. Not to sound like a 12-year-old, a voice in your head says, but that just was an indirect kiss with an Inquisitor. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked for a second straw so we could both use one each. I was going to offer another round of tea to you after I’m done with this one, as it usually goes, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Cal straightens up in his seat in surprise at your words.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“You don’t like sharing cutlery and stuff like that, right?” you ask, now confused as well, thinking back to when he clearly grabbed another spoon to try the spread. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s… never mind.”

He fidgets with his fingers for a second, but when he notices you watching him, he hides his hands under the table. You merely hum in response, taking another sip. Is he… nervous? The mood seems to have shifted again and now you’re completely lost as to what’s going on. All those years of training and studying, yet this man before you remains a mystery.

The rest of the evening is spent eating pancakes and drinking tea, holding a pleasant conversation, albeit a superficial one. At times, it feels like his eyes are completely fixed on you, but within seconds, it’s like he can’t even look at you. 

Concluding you’ve overstayed your welcome, you offer to quickly wash up, then be on your way. He merely nods and helps to bring all the dishes to the counter, then goes back to the table. You assume it’s to get another candy from the box. But you don’t mind; you offered to wash up after all. 

Silence envelops the whole room, the only sound being the water coming from the tap. As you’re putting the last of the dishes on the little drying rack, you sigh. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea after all. Full of questions and doubts, you dry your hands on the towel, fully set on ending the evening by thanking him for getting the things in the first place, saying you had a good time and keeping your goodbyes short. You aren’t even sure if you’ll manage to appear here with a straight face for dinner tomorrow after everything that happened today, the problem being mainly the things playing out in your own head.

Being so deep in thought, you don’t notice the presence behind you, so when you turn around, you’re almost nose to nose with Cal. You can’t help the surprised little “ah, kriff!” that escapes you at his sudden appearance. With the counter behind you though, there’s nowhere for you to back away to, and Cal isn’t budging from where he stands. 

“Don’t forget this,” he says in a low voice and holds up your bracelet, which you had left on the table earlier. He’s so close that you can feel his soft breaths on your face.

“R-right, thanks.”

Looking anywhere but at the Inquisitor, you take the piece of jewellery and put it on your wrist. It takes you a couple of tries though, because your fingers are trembling. In fear, anticipation or something else, you don’t really know. You fumble for a moment until you finally manage to secure the clasp. Cal however, is still standing right in front of you, his hands now coming up to rest on the counter on either side of you. You don’t dare to breathe.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you ask in an impossibly small voice. 

“I think you know.” 

It takes every last drop of courage in your body, but you scrape it all together and put it into lifting your eyes to look at Cal. And when your gaze meets his, the breath is knocked out of your lungs entirely. He’s looking down at you so intensely, so hungry, you can’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your brain is long gone, you realise, so now you’re entirely at the mercy of what Cal does and whatever physical reaction that gets out from you. And it seems he’s very much aware of this, enjoying the state you find yourself in, if that tiny side smile is anything to go by as he leans in next to your head. You go completely stiff. 

“If you want me to back off, tell me now,” he says directly into your ear.

You take a shaky breath, and the last of the voices in your head all but screaming at you to get out of there is abruptly shut up. Anything and everything in your mind and body is Cal Kestis right now, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s using some Force mind trick on you or if this is all you. That thought dissipates instantaneously though when you feel Cal’s breath tickle your ear, still waiting for your response. You merely shake your head, and it’s so subtle he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he didn’t have his face right next to yours. 

With his cheek now against yours, you can feel him smile. Properly smile. 

“Good,” is all he says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. 

His arms snake around your waist, pressing your body into his, and he devours you with such ferocity that you need a moment to regain control in your limbs. Once you do, your hands are all over him. One fists the shirt at his back, the other goes into the hair at the nape of his neck and you give it a gentle, tentative pull. The groan that leaves his lips is intoxicating, and you know right then and there that there’s no going back from this. Not tonight, not ever. This is all it took for you to know you’re officially addicted to Cal Kestis. 

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss further, his tongue pressing against your own and pushing both your hips into the counter behind you. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you. Any other day you would have felt embarrassed, but today you don’t care. You’re making out with a kriffin’ Inquisitor and it’s great. As if he could hear your thoughts, Cal gives your bottom lip a nip, starting to leave a trail of bites and licks along your jaw, while his hands slide to the backside of your thighs. Before you can process what he’s doing, you're being lifted onto the free counter space like you weigh nothing, with Cal standing between your legs. One of his hands slowly moves further up your thigh, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. 

Suddenly, something occurs to you, and with a breathless “wait” you tilt your head to the side to take a breather and try to regain any rational thought you may have left. You’re both panting heavily, and while he looks openly annoyed at your interruption, he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, then backs away a bit to let you take a break. 

“What,” he finally says, and it’s less of a question and more of an impatient bark, as you still haven’t said anything.

Your brain is going at a thousand miles an hour, there’s too much input from everywhere, but you still manage to find the words somehow.

“I just- This is- Not that I’m not enjoying this immensely, but… why? All of a sudden?” you ask, finally feeling like you’ve caught your breath again.  

Cal huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and while you probably should be a little bit offended at his gesture, you’re suddenly way too focused on what you have the chance of witnessing: the way his hair messily falls into his face once he drops his hand. The clear blush adorning his freckled and scarred cheeks, nose and even the tips of his ears. The puffy lips, mouth still parted. The backlighting coming from the main room behind him almost gives him an ethereal glow, making the golden hue in his eyes stand out even more. You commit the image to memory. 

“The bracelet, when I touched it earlier,” he starts explaining, but when he sees you just as dishevelled as him, he decides he can’t be bothered right now. “It’s called psychometry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

With an impatient grunt, he just picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Right now there are more pressing matters,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You realise you’re being carried towards the door that’s always been closed every time you come over. When you both approach, they slide open with a hiss and you’re met with his bedroom, as you’ve always speculated that’s what lies behind it. 

Letting you fall backwards onto his large bed rather unceremoniously, he starts climbing on top of you, but before putting any weight on you, he stops and looks down at you with a serious face. 

“Last chance to back out,” he offers.

You can’t help at chuckle, and grin up at him. 

“As if.”

Your hands shoot up to hold him by the collar. You have no idea where the confidence even comes from at this point.

“I want you, Cal,” you say breathlessly, and that’s all it takes for him to be on top of and all over you again. Let’s just say pancakes and tea aren't the only treats you’ll be getting today.

— — —

A/N 2: inq!cal has a sweet tooth, honk if you agree

A/N 3: where my palitos de la selva gang at B)

~~~~~

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