#COLE ACTUALLY HAS A PERSONALITY GUYS!!!

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

STOP I'm thinking about the part in Gravity Falls where Stan shows up with freshly bought (stolen) light bulbs only to see Ford screwing a new one in surrounded by family.

And OH my GOD. AGH.

Stan gets a little (ir)rationally upset about this because... It's.. Guys,,,

Stan perceives it as Ford once again easily receiving the praise and love of their family when he had to fight tooth and nail to receive even half of it.... I'm not well ✋😔

[scoutofmymind]

Reader and Luigi basically being the old married couple of the group. A newcomer finds out that they aren’t actually together and it feels like breaking news because it’s basically assumed by most that they’re together. Maybe it isn’t until one of them starts getting actively pursued by someone else when it starts clicking why it makes them uncomfortable at the idea. Trying to leave this open ended for you.

The Jester’s Fucking the King — {Luigi x Reader }

Content: I’m gonna call this one NSFW— MDNI, friends to lovers, confusing feelings, Luigi has a physical touch fixation, you’re his fidget toy, fr tho, emotional manipulation lowkey, just a pinch (if you squint) of dirty talk, kinda love triangle

Wc: 3,458

Notes: yourself and Luigi have been Inseparable for six years, and the introduction of a new friend into the group throws a wrench into everything.

Before we start, I wanna make a quick note about the title, and where the hell it came from (lol). I was inspired by a tumblr post I came across awhile ago, and it stuck with me, I guess, because I randomly thought of it while I was writing this. That’s all. Enjoy xo

I took this and ran with it.

As usual.

"Who's this guy that she's bringing again?" you ask to the car at large, slumped in the backseat between your roommate Scarlett and the window. Your thumb swipes across your phone screen, watching Chloe’s location dot inch its way across the map while Luigi maneuvers through traffic and Ben fidgets with the radio from the passenger seat.

"I dunno, some guy she met in her new sculpture class this semester," Luigi mumbles through a barely-concealed grimace. The thought of adding another person to their carefully balanced social ecosystem clearly weighs on him. You know he's already mentally rehearsing his nice to meet you smile, the kind that takes more energy than he's willing to spend on a random Tuesday night.

"It'd better not be that kid Cole," you mutter, already dreading the possibility.

And because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, it was absolutely, undeniably, that kid Cole.

It hardly mattered what preconceived notions you’d had about him; they dissolved over time as Chloe started bringing him around more often.

The traits you once found annoying gradually morphed into something oddly endearing.

Still, he never quite seemed to understand the dynamic between you and Luigi.

On movie nights, when the six of you crammed into the living room, a messy sprawl of friends and blankets overtaking the couch and floor, you naturally claimed your usual spot; sprawled out across Luigi’s lap. Tonight was no different. You laid there with your back propped against the arm of the couch, scrolling through Instagram while your bottom half stretched longways over him, as if his lap had always been yours to occupy.

Every so often, you’d interrupt the movie to show him a meme or a video a mutual friend had sent. You’d lean in close, shoulders brushing, stifling your laughter together so as not to disturb the others watching John Wick. “That’s fucked up,” he muttered through a barely-contained chuckle, his eyes still on your phone screen.

Madison lives at home, her daily subway commute to campus a small price to pay for access to her parents' sprawling estate. Their backyard is a mediterranean dream, with a pool large enough to host the entire group of misfits, with room to spare.

You're draped over Luigi as he meanders around the pool's edge, both arms curved naturally around your waist beneath the waster. It's the kind of casual intimacy that comes from years of friendship, comfortable and worn-in. "Cole's actually pretty cool," he muses, tilting his head back expectantly.

You comply with the wordless request, holding the La Croix to his lips so he doesn't have to lift his hands from the water.

"Yeah," you agree, your eyes drifting across the pool to where Cole is pretending not to watch this whole exchange. His gaze darts away the moment yours meets his, like a kid caught stealing. "I really did think he was annoying at first, though."

Scarlett’s birthday party, your arms wrapped around Luigi’s waist, your head tucked beneath his arm as you swayed together and sang happy birthday. The whine as you shared a piece of cake, something about how “Luigi won’t even kiss me in public.” When someone said the two of you would have won prom king and queen if you went to the same high school.

Ben’s party followed just weeks later, the night still young and champagne bubbling through your veins. Luigi's hand clamped desperately over your mouth, but your eyes danced with mischief as you nodded enthusiastically at the circle gathered around you. "Yeah, Lu's got a PhD," you managed to say, and before he could stop you, the words tumbled out against his palm: "A pretty huge dick."

Cole watched.

"Did you know Cassie is seeing Dylan?" Cole asked, matching your frantic pace across campus. The morning fog swallowed your mumbled recitations as you mentally rehearsed your presentation for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, Cole, and I'm fucking Luigi.” you scoffed, the sarcasm dripping over every word like sticky molasses as you rolled your eyes. You yanked open the auditorium doors, disappearing behind them without a backward glance, mind already racing ahead to bullet points and transitions.

The very idea that Cole would believe such obvious campus gossip had you shaking your head as you slid into your seat.

But he did believe it.

He stood frozen in the hallway you'd left him in, staring at the closed doors like they might offer some explanation. "Yeah? I know.” he mumbled to your ghost, the words settling confused and heavy in the empty corridor.

The absolute certainty in his voice would have made you laugh, if you'd been there to hear it.

The seasons had shifted, and with them, Cole's hope had quietly ebbed away. After months of watching you, he'd finally accepted what everyone else seemed to know instinctively — even if Luigi wasn't in the picture, you were simply out of reach.

Saturday night found your usual crew at your claimed table in Madison’s backyard, the surface cluttered with emptied drinks and scattered Uno cards. Luigi absently twisted the rings on your fingers — a mindless habit he'd developed somewhere between freshman year and now — while chaos erupted around you.

The familiar symphony of shouted accusations about who was hiding the Draw Four cards mixed with the glow of phones being passed around, TikToks and screenshots sparking new waves of laughter.

Cole watched the way Luigi's fingers danced over yours, and for the first time, the sight didn't sting quite so much.

“I still can't believe Dylan and Cassie are dating," Cole mused through a cloud of smoke, beer bottle dangling precariously from his left hand while a joint was stuffed between the fingers on his right.

The table fell silent, five pairs of eyes fixing on him with varying degrees of confusion and amusement.

"Who told you that?" Scarlett's voice cut through the stunned silence and the resurrection of a dead and gone campus rumor, her phone screen illuminating her face as Dylan's name flashed across it. "Where did you even hear that?"

Cole's eyes pinballed around the table, finally landing on you and Luigi.

Your hand was caught in one of Luigi's absent-minded gestures, knuckles pressed against his lips while he listened — a habit so commonplace to everyone else that they'd stopped noticing years ago. "Uh— wait—" Cole fumbled, taking a desperate pull from the joint as if the answer might be hiding in the smoke. He passed it to his left and asked through a cough, "Are they not?"

“No, you idiot.” Scarlett threw a lighter at him, which he narrowly dodged.

"Well- why did- “Cole's words stumbled over each other as he locked eyes with you across the table. Your brows knitted together, genuinely bewildered by his desperation. "I- you said they were," he insisted, hand gesturing vaguely in your direction like a drowning man reaching for a life raft.

Scarlett's head whipped toward you so fast her earrings clinked, a new lighter in her hand that was suddenly transformed into a weapon of interrogation, the flame pointed in your direction. "You what?"

"I didn't say that!" Your hands flew up defensively, face flushing as you ransacked your memory for any conversation that could've led to this moment.

But your mind offered nothing but static.

"I asked you if you could believe they were- and-“Cole gestured helplessly at Luigi, who was studying your profile with the intense focus of someone who'd stopped processing verbal language three hits ago. His fingers hadn't stopped their absent dance with your rings once you lowered your hands again from your surrender to Scarlett’s mercy, muscle memory outlasting coherent thought.

Cole felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate dimension where everyone spoke a language he'd never learned while those same pairs of eyes dissected him with the kind of judgment only drunk twenty-somethings could muster, making him feel about two inches tall. "And you said 'yeah, and I'm fucking Luigi,'" he defended weakly, the words sounding more ridiculous with each passing second.

"Yeah!" You practically launched across the table, laughter threatening to bubble over as understanding finally dawned. "Because I'm not!" The force of your declaration nearly knocked over someone's beer, but you were too busy watching Cole's face transform as the shoe finally, finally dropped.

Luigi, for his part, just kept twisting your rings, lost somewhere between the fourth dimension and your knuckles.

Cole's jaw went slack, his eyes darting around the table again where this time everyone had suddenly developed an acute interest in hiding their smirks behind their hands — a masterclass in delayed politeness. "What?" He practically shoved the joint away when it circled back, as if too-late sobriety might make this make more sense. "But- but the dick size jokes and- and you tell everyone he won't kiss you in public."

"Oh, you poor thing." Chloe dabbed at her eyes, tears of mirth threatening to ruin her mascara. "She's always done that shit." The words came out half-strangled by suppressed laughter.

Months passed, and Cole transformed into your personal guardian angel. One desperate NEED SUGAR NOW OR DEATH text to the group chat, and he'd materialize with your favorite convenience store candy before anyone else had even read the message.

He collected details about you: the way your nose scrunched at certain perfumes, how you could quote every line from that one movie, the specific shade of purple that made your eyes light up. When he finally told you he liked you — really liked you, more than he'd ever liked anyone — you said you liked him too.

The gravitational shift was subtle at first — like planets realigning. Your usual perch in Luigi's lap gradually migrated to the chair beside Cole, a transition so natural that few noticed, not even you.

It came to a head one Saturday when Luigi texted his absence from movie night, claiming a sudden illness.

The excuse was paper-thin, and you both knew it.

You stood outside his building, jabbing the buzzer with the familiarity of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. "I know you're not sick, Luigi." Your voice crackled through the intercom, bouncing off the walls of his apartment where he lay curled into himself on the sofa, rigid as rigor mortis. "I can see your Oura ring stats." The betrayal of technology made him groan, and the offending ring went sailing across the room, a tiny meteor of exposed lies.

His father knows the developer.

That's the only reason he'd agreed to wear the damn thing — a circular shackle of obligations that now betrayed him from somewhere under his coffee table.

Your finger finds the buzzer again, gentler this time.

"C'mon, bub. I miss you." The sweetness in your voice hits him like a sucker punch, memories of simpler times wrapped in those words. "It can be me and you tonight. We can have a bestie night." The offer dangles like a Time Machine to the past — back when your world was just two planets in perfect orbit, before it expanded into a solar system of friends.

Before Cole ever came around.

Luigi appears in the doorway like a ghost, just as you're about to admit defeat. Your face splits into a grin, but it falters when you really look at him. "God." Your eyes track the sharp edges of his collarbones beneath his shirt. "Have you been eating?" The question trails behind you as you follow him up the familiar path to the second floor.

The apartment feels wrong — like walking into a black and white version of a color photograph you know by heart. Every blind drawn tight against the afternoon sun, as if he's been developing emotional negatives in the dark. "Hey, what's going on?" Your fingers find his forearm, anchoring him before he can drift away again. "This is kinda giving me flashbacks to when you failed your final."

He flinches like you've pressed on a bruise, eyes scanning his self-made darkness as if seeing it for the first time - the familiar choreography of his pain laid bare by your observation. "This definitely feels different from that." His voice comes out hollow, each word carefully chosen to dance around the real issue.

"Better, or worse?"

"I don't know."

He sinks back into his spot on the couch, the oversized blanket making him look smaller than you've ever seen him. His eyes fix on the half-finished Lego set on his coffee table — the Millennium Falcon he'd started weeks ago, now collecting dust mid-construction.

Three hundred pieces still sealed in their bags, waiting.

"Is it your mom?" you try, but Luigi shakes his head. "Is it school?" Another head shake. "Work?" No. "Was it your aunt Lisa again? That bitch—" He cuts you off with another shake. "Is it me?"

The question hangs there, and Luigi pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, refusing to meet your eyes.

He lets out a long breath, knowing he's trapped himself here — in this moment, in this conversation, in this truth he's been avoiding.

No way out.

"What?" You cross the room in three quick strides, dropping beside him and tugging at the blanket he's using as camouflage. "What do you mean, Lu? C'mon." Your hands search for any part of him that isn't wrapped in fleece, but he's determined to stay hidden. "What did I do?"

Luigi's eyes catch yours for a fraction of a second before darting away. "I really just want to sleep." The words come out muffled as he tries to fold himself smaller, but you're faster, yanking the blanket down before he can disappear completely. "Please."

"Luigi.” Your voice cracks, and you don't try to hide it. You've never had to beg him for anything before, not in all your years of friendship. "I can't leave knowing you're upset with me." It's the rawest truth you have, stripped down to its bare bones on the couch cushions between you. "Come on. Talk to me."

The silence grows so thick you could suffocate in it, until Luigi finally breaks it with a mumble. "How come you only make jokes about fucking me?" His throat works visibly before he adds, "And not anyone else?"

The question hits you like a slap. Your eyes drift across his coffee table, taking inventory — the joint still smoldering in the ashtray, his anti-anxiety meds beside it, a forgotten Gatorade from the night before.

Everything a testament to hours spent alone with his thoughts.

You drag in a deep breath, searching for words you've never had to examine before. "I mean — that's what we do, you know-"

"No," he cuts you off, voice sharpened. "It's what you do."

"Lu." Your spine straightens as confusion settles in. "Why is this suddenly an issue? I've always- I've always made those kind of jokes about us. How everyone thinks we're dating all the time." You stretch yourself forward, trying to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. "I just lean into it, I guess. I didn't know it bothered you."

He sighs, the sound muffled as he drags his hands down his face. "It doesn't bother me."

"Then," frustration bleeds into your voice as you throw your hands up, lost in whatever conversation he's having three steps ahead of you. "What do you fucking mean?"

"I- I mean-" His tongue clicks against his teeth, each word coming slow like he's translating from another language. "It doesn't bother me in that way."

"In what way?"

"In the way that means you saying you'd fuck me bothers me."

"But you just said it bothers you."

"No,” he says, “I didn't."

Heat rises up your neck as your patience frays.

Your mind twists itself into knots trying to decode whatever puzzle he's laying out between you. "Look at me." The command comes out sharper than intended as you try to yank the blanket away from him. "Fucking look at me!"

The blanket rips from your hands with unexpected force, sending you sprawling onto his hardwood floor. Your oversized sweater is the only thing saving your tailbone from a bruising. "You fucking asshole." The words come out hot as you fumble for your boots to put over the socks that betrayed you in their slipperiness, and just as you manage to wrangle one on, Luigi emerges from his cocoon, fixing you with a look that stops you cold.

"I mean I guess-“ He clears his throat, looking down at you with that familiar steady gaze, but there's something different layered over it now, something raw. "I mean- Why wouldn't you fuck me?"

The question hits like a fist to the cheekbones.

You freeze, one boot half-laced, mouth hanging open as heat floods you to your temples.

Of all the directions this could have gone, you never expected this brand of brutal honesty, delivered while you're sprawled ungracefully on his living room floor and wrestling with your shoelaces.

Your eyes dart between the coffee table and his face, pieces clicking together with nauseating clarity. "What kind of question is that?" The words come out sharp as your fingers hook uselessly around your boot laces.

"Well, what kind of joke is it to go around telling everyone we fuck?" He throws your logic back at you with devastating precision. "What's so funny about that?"

You bury your face in your hands, a groan muffled against your palms. Every memory floods back at once — all those times he tried to stop you from making dick jokes, all those moments people assumed you were dating and you played it up while he went quiet.

Six years of friendship viewed through this new lens makes your stomach lurch, and another heavy sigh tears from your chest.

"Can you at least tell me?" Luigi's voice comes out barely above a whisper, watching you curled up on his floor like a wounded animal.

You finally lift your head, meeting his stare head-on. "Do you want me to say I'd fuck you?"

The silence wraps around you both like a physical thing, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as color floods his cheeks. "Huh?" You arch an eyebrow, challenging. "Want me to say how hard I'd do it?" Your discarded boot connects with his shin. "How I know you whimper."

As if on cue, a small sound escapes him — half whine, half breath. He's still staring at you like you've knocked all the air from his lungs, struck speechless while you press your newfound advantage.

You move closer, settling between his knees as the blanket slips from his shoulders. With gentle pressure, you ease him back against the couch. "Want me to tell you how none of it was ever really a joke?" Your hand rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath your palm. "How every time that you felt me push my ass against your dick wasn’t just your imagination?”

Luigi reaches for you then, fingers trembling as they find your skin — reverent and careful. He's always been tactile with you, always finding excuses to be close. He knows the map of your hands better than you do, how your breathing changes when you drift to sleep, all the little things that make you who you are. "I knew it," he whispers as you settle against him, both of you finally exactly where you're meant to be.

You'd spent so long pushing these thoughts away, rationalizing every touch as just his nature — absent patterns traced on your skin during movies, fingers intertwined during conversations, gentle pressure points mapped across your arms during lengthy lectures.

Each gesture filed away as mindless habit.

But this was different. Every point of contact now carried weight, intention.

"I'd fuck you too," Luigi murmurs, drawing you closer, face pressed against your sweater. His hands spread warm and steady across your back, holding you like something precious, something he's afraid might slip away. “And I’d whine as much as you wanted.”

The next week comes floating by once again, Cole hurrying beside you as you rush to your next lecture, desperately trying to untangle your earbuds, hearing Luigi’s voice echo in your mind, laughing at you for your resistance toward Bluetooth devices. “I - I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to-“

“I’m fucking Luigi.” You turn to Cole, your expression deadpan but fixed, serious but not all that concerned before the doors of the auditorium are flung open, and once again, you vanish behind them.

Cole bursts into a fit of giggles at the thought, realizing now that believing such a thing would be mean he was naive — he’s since learned from his mistakes. “Yeah.” He murmurs to himself, “And Cassie and Dylan are still dating.”

[oldwritingm]

Hey! Can I request head canons about the ninja finding the reader (their partner) wearing their clothes?

Finally getting around to clearing out my inbox! Here ya go, friend!!

Ninjago - Ninjas Finding You in Their Clothes

Kai

He notices that you’re wearing his shirt the second he walks in the room

He has a very good memory when it comes to what clothes he owns, so when he sees them on you, he knows them in an instant

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe

He lets out a long whistle, startling you

“Looking fine, babe. I like the shirt.”

“Yeah? You like my shirt?”

His smirk grows, and he saunters over to you

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you into a kiss

He reminds you that it is, in fact, not your shirt

Cue the teasing that ends with you being chased around the house until Kai corners you and tickles you, refusing to let up unless you admit the shirt isn’t yours

As much as he likes seeing you in his clothes, he isn’t going to let you keep them

But he starts asking if you also want one whenever he gets a new clothing item, because he thinks you look totally hot in his clothing style

He just doesn’t want to have to give up any of his clothes; he needs them all to be available 24/7 for ✨fashion purposes✨

Cole

It takes him a second to realize it’s his hoodie you’re wearing

It’s the bagginess that he notices first; he’s a pretty big guy, so his clothes would most likely be at least a little big on you

The longer he looks, though, the more familiar the hoodie becomes

When he finally realizes, a huge grin blooms on his face

He walks up to you and envelops you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground and swaying back and forth

He is absolutely elated that you’re in his clothes

He likes his clothes, and he likes you, so put those things together…

Perfection in his eyes

When he sets you down, finally allowing you to breathe again, he plants a kiss atop your head

“Please wear my hoodies more often. You look great.”

Even though they don’t fit you too well, Cole’s clothes are very comfy, so you take full advantage of his open-closet policy

What he loves most is getting something back after a while and finding that it smells like you <3

Jay

His initial thought is that you also happen to have a Starfarer shirt

He says as much, but when you give an amused giggle he gets suspicious

Going to his room, he finds his shirt gone

He comes running after you

“Thief! Get back here!”

“Heheheh, no!! It’s comfy!”

When he finally tackles you onto the couch, both of you laughing your lungs out, he peppers your face with kisses

He’s not really all that upset, he was just taken by surprise

In actuality he thinks you look great, and he tells you to keep the shirt

He thinks it’s cute that you borrow his clothes, and he probably tries to return the favor at some point

He’ll be over the moon if you let him wear your clothes from time to time

He’ll be really picky about what he takes, though, so you don’t have to worry about all your clothes suddenly disappearing

Except for hoodies. Lock them away. He will steal them all.

Zane

He notices you in his clothes immediately

He was aware that he was missing a tunic, so he made the connection pretty quickly when he saw you in it

At first he’s just confused

“Are all your clothes unfit for wearing? I did the laundry yesterday—”

“No, I just… wanted to wear yours.”

He’s still pretty confused, but he can tell that you’re happy so he lets it go

He knows it’s some kind of affectionate thing, but he doesn’t understand it personally

He starts purposefully putting some of his clothes in your drawers, just so you don’t have to “steal” them

He doesn’t care when you wear those, but he does get a little irked when you do steal from his wardrobe

Not genuinely upset, though; he just dislikes the confusion of finding something missing

As long as you let him know beforehand, he has no trouble letting you borrow whatever you want :)

And perhaps he’ll even let you keep it…..

Lloyd

Lloyd turns pink in the cheeks when he sees you in his shirt

The corner of your mouth quirks up mischievously when you see this

“Something wrong?”

“That, uh… is that my shirt?”

A smile curves his lips as he says it, but his face is still very much a dark shade of red

He thinks you look fantastic—but that’s only part of the reason that he’s blushing

The idea of you wearing something that he wore…

Indirect hug

He settles down next to you to give you a direct hug too :)

He thinks it’s cute to borrow each others’ clothes

To him it’s a sign of intimacy

So of course you guys set up an open-closet policy, and you guys often lounge in each other’s clothing

Nya

She gets so excited when she sees her shirt on you

She thinks all her clothes are nice, so she’s glad to see that you apparently agree

Enough to have stolen her shirt without asking, anyway

She wraps her arms around you from behind, pinching at the fabric and grinning

“Cute shirt.”

“Isn’t it? I got it from a place called ‘Nya’s Closet.’”

“That’s where all the good stuff is!”

She literally drags you to her room and starts pulling out clothes she thinks you’d look nice in

You guys have a little fashion show that ends late, with clothes everywhere, you in her pjs and her in yours

Needless to say, she’s more than happy to share her clothes

She knows they’re irresistibly stylish; she’s just happy you have good taste

Thanks for reading!! And thank you for your request :) take care duckies!! <33

(divider by saradika)

[puck-luck]

airline affection | cole caufield

warnings: drinking (tequila), sex with a stranger, protected p in v (me breaking my pattern fr), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, hair pulling, mentions of a round 2 but not explored in this fic (will probably not be explored in a part 2 either because i like how this fic ends), use of Y/N (my least fav)

pairing: cole caufield x fem!reader

summary: cole caufield and fem!reader basically join the mile high club, despite their feet being on the earth.

wc: 3,772

There are a lot of things that you hate about winter storms. The number one thing, though, is when it delays your plane. You’re usually impatient in airports. The energy in these buildings seems to spark something in you that just makes you restless. You’re almost always checking the time and your eTicket to make sure nothing changed since the last time you checked it a minute prior. You’re running through your checklist of to-dos and making sure you have everything you need in case your flight gets so delayed that you need to book a hotel. 

You’re already pretty sure that you won’t make your connection, although the three-hour layover between landing and departure was a nice cushion. It’s not like your flight has been delayed by much, anyway. It’s just an hour. You’ll still have time. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can sprint across the airport and still make it with plenty of time to spare. 

If not, getting a hotel in Montréal for the night wouldn’t be too bad. The city seems interesting enough, though… knowing yourself, you probably won’t venture out of the airport and hotel if you are stuck there for the night. You’ll want to get on the first flight out since you’re already anxious to get home, so you’ll just bite the bullet and go to bed early.

The minutes continue to drag on and you watch your layover grow slimmer and slimmer, until you know it’s futile to make it from one terminal to the next. Especially once the gate agent behind the desk turns on the microphone and you hear his voice, automatically more grating because of the news he presents, announce that the plane has been delayed another forty minutes. He can’t help it, but you still wish you could go over and tear into him and vent out all of your frustrations.

You instead stand up and drag your carry on behind you towards the airport bar about a hundred feet from your gate. You snag a seat at the dark, polished wooden bartop, tucking your carry on between your stool and the bar itself. Even though you don’t believe anyone would actually steal your carry on while it’s right by your side, you take the precaution anyway… even if it makes you uncomfortable. You order a drink from their specialty cocktails– something with tequila and lime and pineapple– and seethe to yourself.

When you lift your eyes to the mirror behind the bar, nestled behind rows of liquor bottles, you catch a glimpse of a strong jaw and a pointed nose. You double take at the tousled mop of hair on this man’s head and linger on the dimples bracketing his glowing smile. 

You can’t feel bad or angry when you’re looking at a smile like that. 

He’s with a group of guys, drinks in hand, and they’re laughing. You can’t tell if this guy was the person who made the joke that sparked the chortles around his table or if he’s laughing along with something one of his friends said. 

Lifting his glass of beer to his mouth, the man happens to catch your eye in the mirror.

You blush and duck your head, startled that you were caught staring at this guy. You stare at the rim of your glass and trace the condensation on the side, letting a dewdrop gather on your fingertip and seep into the miniscule ridges that define your touch. 

After enough time has passed, you dare to peek at this guy again.

His gaze was waiting for you. His grin changes imperceptively, neither growing softer nor wider but changing somehow, and he lifts his glass in a tiny toat. It’s an acknowledgement of your stare and a casual ‘hi,’ should you choose to take it.

You feel yourself blushing again and lift your hand in a miniature wave before you pinch your bottom lip between your thumb and index finger to tame the change in your expression. You’ve never been good at controlling your face, especially not when a cute boy is going out of his way to notice you. It’s not like this never happens, but you still get a flutter in your stomach whenever it does.

You sip from your straw, gulping down a couple of moutfuls of your drink. To entertain yourself, and to avoid looking in the mirror again lest you make eye contact with this guy, you pull out your phone. You’re fully intending to text the group chat with your closest friends, saying that there’s a hot guy behind you in the airport bar, when you notice the aforementioned hot guy taking the seat to your right.

“Hi,” the man says. His voice has a distinct quality to it– not in a bad way. It just sounds like all of his words come from the back of his throat. His pitch is lower than you expected. Just from one word, you can tell that he talks with the confidence of a much taller man.

“Hi,” you reply. You take a sip of your drink after speaking. 

“Are you a nervous flier?” he asks.

You eye him, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He gestures to the drink in your hand. “You’ve been downing that thing. Trying to get a buzz before your flight takes off?”

“Oh,” you say lamely. You shake your drink, the ice cubes clinking in the glass. “Not really. I’m just annoyed. Delays, you know. I’m drinking in memoriam of my connecting flight.”

The man laughs, to your surprise. That wasn’t even a good joke, but here he is. He raises his glass, holding it out to yours and clinking the rims together. “In honor of your connection,” he says, then raises his glass to his lips. He raises an eyebrow and you do the same after stalling for a brief moment.

You’re not even in a good outfit. You’re in airport clothes, just leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, plus a baseball cap so no one sees how greasy your hair is underneath the cap, and this guy with– holy shit– massive fucking biceps is flirting with you. He’s leaning close to you, too, and he smells nice. Old Spice, maybe. 

“So, how long until your flight?”

You look at the time on your phone. “Thirty minutes.”

“Cool.” He nods. “Can I get you another drink?”

You consider the offer. 

“Or,” he lowers his voice to a whisper and brings his mouth close to your ear. “If you’re interested, I could provide you with another kind of stress relief.”

Your mouth gapes as he pulls away and fixes you with a confident, yet kind smile in the face of such a flagrant offer. 

“Think about it,” he murmurs. He catches the eye of the bartender. “Two chilled Casamigos blanco shots, please, under Suzuki.” When the bartender turns to pour the shots for him, the guy turns back to you. “A confidence boost. I’ll be over there, with the guys. Come find me if you want to make good on that second offer.” He takes one of the small glasses from the bar and clinks it with yours before heading back to his table. 

You stare at him, swiveling in your stool as he goes. Your jaw is still hanging open. It’s only once this guy– whose first name you still don’t know, by the way, except that it might be Suzuki?– returns to his table that you right yourself in your seat and touch the shot before you. 

You whip out your phone and take a picture of the shot. Hot guy in airport just bought me this shot and offered to have sex with me???? You type with frantic fingers, sending the message to the group chat you’d been planning to text before the man came over and made a move on you.

Your friends are well aware that your flight was delayed. They have been waiting for an update and this one is more than welcome, simply because of how dramatic and unexpected it is. 

send pic!! One of your friends replies, which the other friend emphasizes.

You’re able to snipe the man through the mirror of the bar, pretending like you’re taking a picture of the liquor selection. If they zoom in, your friends will be able to see his side profile and judge it accordingly.

Good enough for an airport crush, the second friend says.

you’ll basically be a member of the mile high club if you do it, says the first. 

You pocket your phone and fix your eyes again on the shot before you. It’s acclimating to the room temperature of the bar, but you can still see sharp shards of ice floating in the clear liquid. 

Fuck it. 

You take the shot and close your tab. Why shouldn’t you fuck this dude? How many people can say they’ve hooked up with an airport crush rather than losing them to distance and time? It’s not like you’ll ever see this guy again. You take a brisk, short breath and set your jaw. 

Once again dragging your carry on behind you, you approach his table and tap his shoulder.

Immediately his face splits with a smile. “I hope this is a good sign.”

“Let’s go,” you say without room to argue. You sound a lot more confident than you feel, but you’re also riding on the absurdity of the situation. You’re about to have sex in an airport. With a stranger. That goes against every rule of stranger danger that you’ve ever learned.

“You can leave your carry on with the guys,” he says. “They’ll watch it.”

You grip the handle. Leaving your luggage with a bunch of randos is where you draw the line. “No, I think I’ll bring it with me.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. C’mon.” He takes your other hand and leads you out of the bar, looking both ways before darting to the right. 

A hundred feet later, he’s locking the door to the single-stall family bathroom and pushing you up against it.

“What if someone knocks?” you ask.

“We’ll be quick,” he says, not answering your question. He kisses you before you can speak again.

Like everything that this man has done so far, the kiss is sudden and surprising. He overwhelms you and, while in the first second your eyes had grown wide in shock, your eyelids flutter shut and you melt into the kiss. 

His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you welcome him in, tasting the beer that lingers in his mouth. He is quick, like he promises– his hand is making its way past your waistband and when he touches the band of your panties, you jerk back.

“Wait,” you say. 

The man pauses, his hand drawing back up to your stomach and resting there.

“What’s your name?”

He cracks a smile. “You scared me for a sec there. I’m Cole.” He lifts his hand from your stomach and finds your right hand, fitting them together in a handshake even though it’s a weird angle. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you reply. 

Cole drops your hand and lets out a little chuckle. “Cute. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.” You put a hand on the hair at the nape of Cole’s neck. “As you were, soldier.”

There’s no time to cringe at the statement before Cole is kissing you again and inching his fingers into your panties. He’s laughing at the little nickname you uttered, his kisses growing shorter and sweeter as his mouth moves with his chuckles. 

You don’t speak much after that, but Cole does make a litany of quiet moans and sighs tumble from your mouth. 

His fingers are blunt and certain with each movement. Cole’s cock presses into your hip as he touches you. With the constraints of your panties, because he hasn’t taken your leggings or underwear off, the pads of his digits flick over your clit and draw wetness and slick from your pussy. 

Within minutes, the digits are making their way to your entrance. It is not slow and reverent like you have experienced in the past, but you like that. You like that Cole is kissing you as his fingers work inside of you with a singular purpose– to open you up and prepare you to take his cock. 

Your legs are shaky and weak when Cole adds a second finger to your heat, then a third. They’re pushing inside of you, pushing in and out and thrusting until your hole has stretched to fit him. His tongue has moved to your jawline, tracing down the column of your neck and leaving wet kisses in the wake of the trail.

Unable to handle all of the pleasure he’s giving you without doing much at all, and unable to bear the uselessness that you feel while his hands are busy and yours are not, you push your hand down the front of his pants and grasp his length. 

Cole smiles into your skin and sucks a hickey just above the collar of your sweatshirt. 

You grip the member, feeling the hot flesh rub against your palm when you fist it. You try to picture Cole’s cock from touch alone, feeling the ridges and veins press into your grasp. Your thumb and index finger circle the crown of his cock, following the curve on the underside of the cockhead that reflects his cupid’s bow though not nearly as prominent.You come up to his very tip then all the way back down, feeling the soft thatch of hair at the base. He fits comfortably in your hand and there’s still room for you to move up and down, and you relish in the choked groan that he paints into the crook of your neck.

His efforts double when you touch him, which makes you work harder, and then it just becomes a competition. You try to beat each other out to see who can relent first, but it just dissolves into a fit of laughter when you realize what the other person is doing.

Cole guides you toward the sink with his other hand pressing into your side, finally working his hand around to pull your leggings down. He struggles since his fingers are still buried in your cunt and your hand is rather distracting as it pulls on his cock, but he eventually manages to get the tight fabric down to your mid-thigh. 

“How’s this going to work?” you ask, your bare behind coming into contact with the cold sink. You jump a bit and reach for the paper towel dispenser with your free hand, tugging a few sheets loose so that you can lay them on the edge of the sink and put a barrier between your body and the germs.

“Gonna bend you over a bit, if that’s okay,” Cole says. His words are certain, although he’s sure to check with you and make sure it’ll be comfortable.

“Okay,” you agree, allowing him to turn you around. You lay the paper towels down and lean against the sink, bending at the hinge of your hips. You look at Cole in the mirror and grin. 

He matches you. You watch him shove a hand into his pocket, coming back with a condom. He tears the wrapper and rolls the silicon onto himself. He slides his cock between your ass cheeks and thrusts slowly, just to feel the way that you grip him. After a couple of smooth movements, he brings his tip to your entrance and breaches the tight ring, which had drawn back into itself when Cole removed his fingers.

His hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you in place. You’re grateful for the touch because you do lurch forward when he buries his cock into your pussy, thrusting forward until his abdomen is flush with your behind. Without his hand holding your neck, you probably would have knocked your forehead into the mirror hanging on this airport bathroom wall.

“Careful,” Cole murmurs with a tilted smirk. “Can’t have you getting a concussion on me, Y/N.”

“Maybe be gentler,” you bite back without any heat brewing behind your words. 

“You want me to be gentle?” Cole asks. He draws out of you as slowly as he can, then fucks back into you at the same pace. It’s so slow that all the pleasure is lost on you– it just feels like something mechanical is filling you and leaving you. You know he’s just being difficult and even though you’re stubborn, it still makes you go back on your request.

“No, I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, pushing your hips back. “Really fuck me.”

“Good,” Cole says. “Hold on.”

You fit your hands around the curves of the sink, gripping the slippery fake-marble as best you can. You watch Cole in the mirror. 

There’s something poetic about that– you spotted him in the mirror of the bar less than twenty minutes ago and now you’re watching him draw out of your pussy until just his tip remains. 

He bites down on his lower lip as he thrusts forward, finding a brutal rhythm. His hand goes from your neck to your shoulder, his fingertips curling over to the front of your body and digging into the flesh above your collarbone. He keeps you more securely in this place in this position, even pulling you back to meet his thrusts. 

A strand of hair, wavy and delicate, falls over his forehead. His cheeks dimple as his face contorts through the movements. He’ll grimace and grit his teeth, but you know it’s not because of pain or anything negative. He’s doing his best to stay quiet, you think, just like you are. The door of this bathroom separates you from the gates and the hoards of people traveling to a new destination and none of them want to hear two people having sex– except, you know, a perv. There are bound to be a few in the crowds. Still– you don’t want them to hear you.

There’s a vein in Cole’s neck that is popping out from the hyper-focus he has on your body. He’s looking down, eyes fixed on the space where your body welcomes his driving hips and his unrelenting cock. 

Punishing thrust after punishing thrust has you hurtling towards orgasm. In this position, and with Cole pulling you back onto his cock, he’s hitting all the spots inside of you that have your stomach turning and clenching and twisting. It doesn’t help that the edge of the sink is digging into your abdomen and applying pressure.

“Can feel you getting tighter,” Cole grits out. “Come on, Y/N. Come.”

His voice is tight when he speaks, like he’s trying to hold himself together until you unravel. The timbre is hot as hell and you let out an involuntary whimper, dipping your head.

Cole brings his other hand to your hair and yanks your head back up. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, narrowed like he didn’t want you to look away from him even though he wasn’t looking at you, and the jerk of pain on your scalp sends you over the edge.

You come, entrance spasming around Cole’s shaft as the climax takes over you. Your jaw drops and your eyelids flutter. 

Cole loosens his grip on your hair and your head falls forward– he allows it this time. His hand comes to your hip and keeps you steady, along with the hand on your shoulder, as he chases his own orgasm. You ride out the aftershocks and Cole prolongs them, if only a little bit. He bucks forward a few times before you can feel his cock twitching and spurting cum into the rubber wrapped around him.

After coming, Cole fills you with hard thrusts four or five times. Then, he draws out of your heat and removes the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trashcan. He covers it with a layer of paper towels before returning to you and wiping you clean. 

You’re the one to draw your panties and leggings up, feeling satiated. It’s clear that you’ve been fucked, knowing your own body, but you don’t feel like you’re gaping. There’s a dull energy around your core, but it’s indescribable. 

Cole tucks his cock away and reaches behind you to put a bit of soap on his hands, then hip-bumps you out of the way to have full use of the sink. He grins at you through the mirror.

You hover awkwardly for a chance to wash your own hands. As you do, Cole comes behind you and kisses your cheek.

“That was fun,” he says.

You hum, agreeing with a nod.

“Have a safe flight,” Cole bids you before he slips from the bathroom. 

It’s probably better that you’re leaving at different times; you wait a few minutes before nonchalantly leaving the room yourself. There’s no one nearby that is giving you a second look and you’re astonished that no one knocked on the door while you were fucked thoroughly by a stranger– yeah, you’re still on that– but you also feel a bit proud. You did something wild and no one is the wiser.

You head back to your gate with your carry on wheeling along behind you, finding a seat and waiting less than five minutes before you board. You’re in one of the first few groups because you’re insane about checking in and being on time. It also helps that you’ve been flying on this airline forever and you have a boatload of rewards points. 

As you’re fastening your seatbelt in your window seat near the wings, the same one you always choose, a familiar voice greets you.

“Would you look at that,” Cole says. He lifts his carry on into the overhead compartment and double-checks the row number. “What are the chances that we’re sitting together too, Y/N?”

Your face floods with heat and you immediately know that there’s a red blush coating your horrified expression. You were operating under the impression that you’d never see Cole again… and now you have to spend a whole flight beside him.

“What do you think about round 2?” Cole asks in a low voice, sly and conniving. He leans back after the proposal, dimples as deep as you’ve ever seen them. He fastens his own seatbelt and knocks his knee against yours.

The universe might be out to get you.

But you might take him up on that offer too.

[yokelish]

Solas sees himself in Rook is the lie in Veilguard I cannot get over.

"Solas sees himself in Rook, perhaps even things he doesn't like to acknowledge", they said. There are no two people more diametrically opposed than Rook and Solas. Outside of Rook doing that thing that pissed off a bunch of people in some sort of authority over them, there is nothing between the two to connect them. All their parallels are utterly superficial.

Well, they are both leaders! Solas lead armies, agents, spies against seven powerful mages with armies, agents and worshipers of their own. He had to be ruthless, to sacrifice, forge alliances knowing he'll break them, to manipulate. His friendship with Felassan suffers because it's exceptionally difficult to be emotionally open with a person you give orders to, who you know might die in your name, for your cause, willingly. Solas know it. That's why Felassan writes about how Solas is planning something and is not telling anyone, even his closest friend. It's nothing good. Both know that and neither can do anything about it because there is massive wall between them made of their complex relationship, their cause, Solas' devotion to Mythal and his vengeance for her murder. Solas cannot be a true friend to Felassan just as Felassan can be a true friend to Solas. Love and care are there there but there are things bigger than them and their relationship at play. Solas had to go along with the Dread Wolf narrative even if he hated it. Rook has to prove they are a really good guy to factions and therapyspeak their team of professionals into working under a lot of pressure. Rook suffers none of the consequences of leadership unless they utterly ignore their companions' side quests. What does Rook lose? Their moral codex? Not once did they have to do anything morally questionable. Their relationships? Hardened mechanics is utterly meaningless in the narrative. Since Hardened mechanics is the only thing that was brought from Origins, it's fair to compare it to Origins: Neve is not Leliana who becomes ruthless and thinks murder might actually be an answer to many questions; Lucanis isn't Alistair who accepts that he must become First Talon. What does Rook lose? One companion who willingly sacrifices themselves.

Solas made choices. Stupid ones, yes, but choices. His actions had terrible consequences. Rook is not active in the narrative. They only react. The choice between cities is so in the moment that it isn't about what Rook is willing to sacrifice, what terrible consequence they are more likely to accept, it is not about "all choices are terrible and you have to choose" but reacting to having to choose at all with very little information based on your companions 3 seconds explanation before they ran away. In inquisition, the choice between mages and templars is also quite early in the game. But it influences how you meet Cole and Dorian, it influences who comes to attack Haven, which enemy you are more frequently encounter in the world. Antivan Crows and Rivain apparently have business dealings going all the time, about supplies and Antaam, but after a dragon attacks Treviso, the Lords of Fortune do not offer a dragon hunter (who is big Crow fan) to help out their assassin business partners and consequently Rook. No, it's on Harding to find the dragon hunter. They see a blighted dragon in D'Meta Crossing, hear Ghilan'na speak through it, and not even say that this might be a big fucking problem very quickly and no one nearby knows how to handle it. It's after a city gets blighted that Solas is telling you to find a dragon hunter. Thank you, dear, but I knew that 6 hours ago. Rook somehow didn't tho. The choice between the cities is utterly superfluous, influencing only your gameplay (which companion can't heal you, which city's side quest get cut, which merchants aren't available) rather than the world. Minrathous is no better for fending off Elgar'nan in the end whether you save it or not. UNFORTUNATELY, due to AMA and John Epler, they resolved the artificial moral quandary of this choice as well. Because the Blight in Minrathous will calcify and die at the end of the game, the blight in Treviso will not. Thanks, I hate it. Though the Archon you choose is very much aware that there are blighted gods with an equally blighted dragons but no preparations for any war marches, attacks, sieges will be made. Antiva doesn't reconsider its governance after having a city invaded and blighted. You chose Treviso? Cool. MInrathous' blight will die at the end, Dorian will become Archon and outlaw slavery and cults. Crows rule unchallenged. You chose Minrathous? New Archon is outlaw slavery and cults, your blighted mage will be just fine, Crows rule unchallenged, not a single Talon is blighted. Sad about Treviso, though, that place might just have to be Chernobyl of Antiva.

Solas had moral complexity. Rook doesn't. Varric handpicked the goodest, goofiest little guy to go against a morally dubious ancient being (MW Rook seems to have committed some cultural taboo but don't worry that will not influence how Emmrich views you. MW is EASIER to gain rep with instead of harder. Strife being that way about VJ Rook who saved lives of their people is nonsensical because Strife sided with helping a human mage instead of cutting off said mage's limbs to free himself. LoF background is nonsensical. Why a bunch of pirates give a shit what nobles think? Because trade? They trade fucking lost treasures, not freshly caught salmon. If not those guys, it's gonna be the other guys. Every nation has insufferable rich people who like to put "exotics" into their home decor.) WHY Varric picked the goodest, goofiest little guy in Thedas to stop an ancient mage who fooled an entire organization (and possibly his lover) a decade ago before disappearing into mist that Spymaster of Inquisition couldn't find him until he wanted to be found makes no sense. The man who has lived and actively participated in the shit happening in Kirkwall and Inquisition. The man who fucking lies for a living. Yes, Varric is a overall a good man, but he isn't the paragon of goodness, far from it. It's not Varric who approves you helping refugees in Inquisition. In fact, Varric approves of Inquisitor deciding to let soldiers to fend for themselves. Varric greatly approves of bullshitting your way through thing, including lying, and protecting what is yours. Hawke was never the goodest guy, they are either a smuggler or merc he hired to go through the Deep Roads. Without committing to either choice presented in DA2, Hawke was presented with moral choices where either pick can be dubious. Hawke had to have picked either mages or templars. A bunch of people who are without a doubt dangerous. Or an order who will commit atrocious crimes because they can get away with given that the crime is against a mage. Hawke had some sort of relationship with the guy who bombed the Chantry and either executed him or let him run, either choice without being canonical presents a moral quandary of its own. Varric writes books about how underhanded tactics, lying, spying, and manipulation with a dose of blackmail can actually be for the benefit of the greater good if done with right intetions. But by choosing Rook, it's like Varric thinks that goodness of Inquisitor is what gets one through Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, and not ruthlessness, self-service, and a lot of Varric's own favourite hobby - lying. Why Varric you meet in DA2 and Inquisition picks Rook? Well, he CALLS Rook clever and adaptable, but all Rook's cleverness is bulldozing through obstacles and killing obviously evil guys. Rook is stubborn, determined - no doubt. But Rook isn't clever, cunning, or crafty. They prioritize saving life in droves, which is something that would be on Varric's mind IF Varric was to believe Solas was a heartless bastard with no regard for the damage he causes and we know that's NOT what Varric believes about Solas.

Solas has to fight against his downfall - pride. I genuinely don't know what Rook has as a flaw they struggle against. Their compassion doesn't get them in trouble, they don't get tricked or betrayed. But Solas puts them in prison! Yes, but the reason Rook gets caught isn't due to Solas's trickery but because they can't do shit in the moment. They just fought against Ghilan'nain and her darkspawn puppets alone while trying to free their companions, get knocked on the head a few times, hangs upside down like cattle while their friend gets skewered. How Solas gets them into the prison is TACTICAL. Rook is weak, Rook is tired, Rook is vulnerable, and the Veil is thin so he can actually reach through. It's not trickery. But Rook and Co couldn't shut up about Solas' inevitable betrayal so the payoff is due in whatever way possible. Solas thinks he alone can fix what he has broken, he alone has to face Elgar'nan because many ancient grudges and regrets are knotted up in there. Solas turns on his friends because he thinks what he must do is the thing he must do or all is lost (elven immortality, magic, spirits, knowledge, the world he knew and its history). He thinks he alone knows better than anyone. Partially because he is one of the very few beings who lived since it all began, before the world was changed by the Veil. The Prison sequence wants you the player to believe Rook carries the responsibility in some internalized way, but it's not fucking written in any way until this point, so why would you consider it an issue Rook has to actively face and has struggled with and not just an excuse to have Solas out? My brothers and sisters by the Maker's grace, Leandra scolding Hawke for their sibling's death was more scathing than choosing a whole damn city to be left to burn.

"I've molded you into someone the prison can accept in my place". How? You've done nothing. We had like 4 conversations. 3 of which you spent telling me about the Evanuris, the Blight, their dragon thralls, and how much you fucking hate Elgar'nan. Solas says nothing that changes Rook in any way, how they view their leadership, their actions, or themselves. I think the prison will accept anyone with a formed frontal lobe, honestly. Solas makes you say "I'll do whatever it takes" in the dialogue! Again, that attitude Solas tries to push on you is: a. fucking necessary? you have immortal beings with pet dragons and almost unlimited power to fight against. b. the attitude is more embraced by your companions than Rook. c. Rook is never pushed into doing anything morally questionable or even debatably interesting to reach their objective. Not once is Rook saying "i don't want to do this, i hate to do this, but i have no choice." Rook doesn't even have to lie! Not fucking once!

Tricking someone doesn't make you right. It's one of the things Rook and Solas will discuss. And regardless of anything, Rook will go Shiro Emiya "just because you are correct doesn't mean you are right" on Solas's ass. And that's good. It shows that Solas is shit with introspection just like Elgar'nan and Ghian'nain are. It shows why he is stuck in the prison. On the other hand, his fucking murals are shows very nicely why he is stuck in the prison: he immortalizes his regrets that he wishes to forget instaed of working through them. And by bringing the point of trickery without engaging with what it actually menas to trick... It creates a problem. Well, two problems, actually. A. Where the Solas you meet in Inquisition and Trespasser and when can we get him back? Where is the man who tricked a whole ass organization, played chooms with a Seeker of Truth, Qunari spy, published liar, Spymaster of the Divine, and most ruthless diplomat? Never once does Solas feel superior or above the people he tricked there. He is in fact very fond of the Seeker of Truth who not once found truth on her own (I love you Cassandra). He is very fond of the Antivan diplomat who cheats, lies, manipulates, blackmails probably even better than he did as Dread Wolf and he doesn't feel any superiority for having outplayed Josephine. The reason Solas is the trickster is because it's his only weapon. He was never as powerful like Elgar'nan or Mythal, doesn't have a bunch of other somewhat powerful egomaniacs standing for his cause. Wits, trickery, deception are his only damn weapon, were his only damn weapon for centuries. That's why he is so good at it. The problem of Solas isn't in being a fucking trickster who thinks he is right because he can outsmart you, Veilguard, it's that he goes about solving the problems he creates the same way he goes about making them in the first place: alone, through deception. His trickery is a double edged sword and he constantly cuts himself, refusing to lay it down. He alone tricks the Evanuris into containing the Blight with their life force. Boom! The Veil. He lets the Venatori get his orb and bring it to Corypheaus, thinking he outsmarted them all and soon will unlock his orb and tear down the Veil he created. Boom! Corypheus lives, there is hole in the sky! So he slithers his way into the only force he thinks can fix what he just fucked up - the Inquisition - through deception, alone. That's his torment nexus. You tried and you came close, Veilguard, I giveyou that, but you slightly misrepresented the issue. B. The other problem is that Rook never has to trick anyone. Not even their enemies. Rook can never truly testify for the claim "outsmarting someone doesn't prove you were right" because they never had to. Rook is never confronted by the idea that tricking someone might actually good, put you on that high horse and it can be hard to get off. So Rook's words are just lipservice and not proven experience or tested issue.

"Solas sees himself in Rook". Only if Solas views himself as an insufferable goodie-two-shoes fool who thinks in straights lines and is about as easy to trick as a toddler.

[websterss]

LOVEBUG — COLE WALTER

REQUEST: Can I do a request for Cole Walter where he and the reader are about to sleep together for the first but she figures that he just will hook up with her and go back to Erin. But he actually has feelings for her and he found out it is her first time ever so he makes sure to tell her that he actually has feelings for her. (Some mature content if you’re cool with that)😏

WARNING(S): Angst, fluff, only indication of smut at the end, no actual smut.

WORD COUNT: 2,804

PAIRING: Cole Walter x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! Also, I don't do taglists any more guys!

MASTERLIST

If there was one thing you couldn’t let go of it was trying and not being able to have a conversation with Cole. You found it difficult since he had been avoiding you like the plague. He’d brush past your shoulder in the halls, and if you locked eyes in public he was already walking the other way. Your friendship has been one for the history books. A long-lasting friendship since elementary, but you wondered when and if your bond was soon to expire. You wanted to keep trying though because trying meant you wouldn’t have to lose Cole for good. 

You had had your doubts the second Katherine had invited you to attend Haley and Will’s wedding. Your doubts clouded your mind as you felt your presence and attendance would cause a great deal of stress or frustration for Cole. Seeing as how he didn’t want to talk to you, you did your best to stay far away, sit far, but even then you watched as he left in the middle of the dancing. Heading towards the barn. You had wished you had gone after him sooner, but you waited, waited till everyone was asleep. Anxiety was all you felt as you faced his workshop shed. The light was on indicating that he was in there but if it hadn’t been for the banging and clanging of tools against metal you would have assumed otherwise. It was only one foot after the other. You thought to yourself. Some part of you told you to run and turn, but he was alone and in his element, this would have to be your only time to get your chance. You had to be brave, and strong, but you were not at the moment so you went head first, heart second. You had opened the door and made your way inside. You complicated whether to make your presence known but it ended up being one hesitant knock followed by two certain ones. You had barely made your way into the area before his voice made you halt in your tracks. 

“Didn’t expect you to be hanging around still. It’s late, shouldn't you be on your way home by now?” 

“H-How’d you know it was me?” You gape at him like a fish out of water, not having expected him to speak first. 

“You’re the only person I know that knocks after walking into a room.” He continued to twist a bolt. “Plus you do things in threes.”

You gaped at him. “No, I don’t.” 

You watched as he turned his eyes towards you, a shit-eating grin on his eyes as he leaned to his left. His hand curls into a fist as he reenacts your entrance. Tapping against the metal for effect.

One… two three. 

“Three times.” He smirked, raising his left brow. You wanted to slap him then and there. 

“Didn’t peg you as the type to pay attention to things like that?” 

“Like what? Like how you scrunch your nose and close your eyes when the sun is in your face, and continue to have a conversation like that. Or how you like to listen instead of speaking when you���re in a group. It's just how observant you are. Or how you do things like knock three times after entering a room.” He chuckles, pointing and mocking where you entered. “Or how you don’t ask or expect anything from anyone because you feel like you’re being a burden. Which you’re not. Or how you go out of your way to help others so much, even though some people don’t deserve to be blessed by your kindness. Or how you prefer bikes to cars cause it means you're helping out the planet a little bit more. Or how you prefer Custard instead of Murphy now because when we were younger Alex said you’d be fine riding him…but then you fell off and you got hurt, and it took a long time to get you to trust us again, and get you back on a saddle. Or… how you’ve been nothing but sweet to me when all I’ve done is treat you like shit.” He slams the hood of his truck down causing you to flinch. Regret fills him instantly. “Or…how you hate loud noises because it reminds you of all the yelling that happens at home.” If your heart could stop you’d have collapsed dead on the floor before him. But it hadn’t, it only skipped and increased in speed because you never thought he'd be so attentive to you. 

“Still don’t peg me as the type to pay attention to things now?” He opened his arms out and gave a tight-lipped grin. 

“What happened to us?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He brushes past you like he’s done so time after time again. He walked over to his work table looking for a torque wrench knowing the one he needed was over by the truck in his toolbox. He just couldn’t face you right now. 

“Cole…will you look at me, please? I’ve been trying to talk to you for months now and-“

“Have you seen my torque wrench anywhere I can’t find it?” He cut you off. 

“Cole, I’m serious, if you’d just give me a second-“

“Can we not do this tonight? I need to work on the truck okay? It needed more work after it broke down on me and Jackie the other day and I’d appreciate it if you-“

“Can you just look at me for once, dammit!” You walk over and bang your fist on the hood and flinch. You see his side profile first before his body follows, he raises a brow at you unimpressed. 

“On my truck.” He gestures to where your fist rests. 

“I have been trying and trying for so long now to get your attention. To talk to you.” You run your hands down your face. “Because I miss you…” You gesture an open hand to him. “I miss my best friend. I miss wanting to know how your day is going or if your knee has been hurting, but I can’t do those things because you don’t give me the time of day.” 

“I’ve been busy…” He shrugs. 

“Busy right? Yeah, I know what you've been up to.” You close your eyes. “Look Cole, I don’t know if I’ve done anything to make you want to avoid me but if I have then I’m sorry.” You let your head hang forward. “I don’t know what to do anymore…” You hear him before you feel his hands touch your skin gently. In a soft gentle caress, you can’t help but lean into his palm. “I’m sorry…” 

“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. I’ve been a jerk okay…I've been a shit friend and an even shit brother, but I’m working on it. I am. Things will be different. Okay, if my speech was anything to go off of, I meant every second of it. Meeting your person…When I met you, nothing, nothing else mattered to me. I should’ve realized it sooner too but when do I pay attention to you.” He joked slightly, causing you to roll your eyes. “I should've held you closer because as my mother likes to remind me constantly. You’re good for me, to me, and way out of my league…” Cole laughed lightly. “I guess what I’m trying to get at is I’m sorry…for everything. I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven for the way I’ve treated you.” 

“You don’t.” Cole retreats his hands from your face. Accepting that as your final word. He’d have walked off with a nod if you hadn’t given him the sweet smile he loves seeing on you. “It’s a good thing I forgave you two days ago then..” 

“Wait what?” 

“Thanks for fixing my bike by the way.” 

He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did you know about that?” 

“I had to take Luna to the vet since she got out the night before, she came back with a limp, but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, your mom and I chatted and she assumed we were on good terms again and asked if you had given me my bike back yet. It didn't take long to put two and two together. That and I’ve been missing my bike for a week now.”

“Can’t trust her now.” He joked. 

“When did you even take it?” You shook your head.

“When did you start asking people for rides again?” He raised a brow at you but laughed as you went to playfully smack him for he was the reason for your lack of transportation. “I was driving the boys home from school when I saw you one day kneeling beside your bike. I wasn’t spying by the way, I just happened to see you in all your damsel ness…” He dragged out the s. 

“Right…” You squint your eyes at him in amusement. 

“I figured it could’ve been the chain since you complained about it falling out one time, so it was either that or the tires finally gave out because let’s face it, sweetheart, that thing was ancient.” He started walking backwards with a smirk. “It was supposed to be a surprise but I guess now is as good of a time as any.” He grabbed a hold of the sheet that covered it and yanked it off.

Your heart did stop then and there. You gasped quietly as a cherry red bike was presented before you. Cole rolled it over in front of you before pulling down the support lever. Though it had been the basket with a pink bow on it that caught your attention. It was beautiful.

“You fixed it.” You reached a hand out to touch it but left it hanging mid-air. Too scared to ruin it. Break it. “And…painted it?” You raised a confused brow at him.

“No. I got you a new one.” He grinned sheepishly as you looked up at him in shock. “The basket was a personal touch I added to it though. I thought you could use something to carry your backpack and books, and the flowers you deliver on Wednesdays. You’ve always carried your bag on your back so I thought this could help take that heavy weight off your shoulders.” 

“Cole…T-This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you…” His heart swelled as you flashed him a smile. You looked back to the bike…thinking he must’ve spent his paycheck on it. You couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing for you. 

“You’re welcome bug.” He nodded. “You deserve something nice. Plus your old bike was on its last limb. That and I thought it’d be good for me to get some exercise in. Work the leg out some more ya know. Believe it or not, I don’t remember the last time I ever rode a bike.” He chuckled. 

"Bug...You haven't called me that in a long time."

"It's my name for you..."

"Yeah, I know it is..." You mutter softly. You thought about the name for a second before your brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait if you got me a new one…What did you do with the old bike?”

“Ah thought you’d never ask. I fixed it.” He jogged back over to the corner. Rolling over the old rusted red one out. He swung a leg over the seat. “Thought you can use the company on Wednesdays.” 

“Keep me company huh?” 

“Yeah, I think it’s time I find a new hobby.” 

“Sulking bored you out.” 

“Among other things…” He shrugs. “I want things to be different.” He cleared his throat and held your gaze. 

“I’m happy for you Cole.” You nodded. 

“Anyway…Let’s test this bad boy.” He pedaled out a few feet then you both watched and heard as the clank of the chain fell out. It lay on the floor. You looked up in time to meet his gaze. You had to cover your mouth to keep you from laughing. 

“Thought you said you fixed it.”

“Yeah…The chain won’t stay. So expect a lot of stopping when we go out on them.” He gave a sheepish grin. 

“You took the old one.” You stated. Turning back to your new one with a new sense of warmth and longing. 

“You were due for a new one. No way I could keep letting you ride this thing. I mean, look at it!” He judged the rusted two-wheeler. 

“Hey don’t make fun. She held out for as long as she could.” 

His eyes flickered onto you, lingering on your eyes a little longer before he let his eyes roam to your heels, up to where your dress ended, then his eyes raked back up to your pouty lips. The accidental double entendre wasn’t lost on him. You had held out for him as long as you could too and he’d been nothing but an ass. 

“Yeah, she sure did…” He nodded slightly. You hold his gaze for a bit longer then look away. 

“For what it's worth. I appreciate you doing this for me.” You grew closer to him, a timid stance as you fiddled with your already chipping nail paint. “I don’t think I can show you just how thankful I am, but all I got is this.” You exhaled, then leaned over to press a kiss against the side of his cheek. Cole closed his eyes wanting the touch of your lips to linger on him a bit longer. You pulled away the slightest, your eyes flickering down to his lips before you averted your gaze. Cole’s chest rose and fell at the sudden change in the atmosphere. He often wondered what your lips pressed against his felt like. Thoughts and questions he probably shouldn’t have had like what did you taste like? What noises he could get out of you. He was hungry for your touch, and he wasn’t about to ruin the opportunity to do the one thing he longed for. 

You watched as he stood up from the bike, letting it lean on the support bar. You took a step back as he closed the distance between you two. His hand reached up to find its place again against your cheeks. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” Your breath hitched at his words. “Let me know if you’d like me to stop.”

“Okay…” You had closed your eyes shut as you waited for him to lean in. It was the barely-there brush of his lips that had you gasping for air. It was the effect he had on you. When he was sure you wouldn’t pull away from him, he slid his hand underneath your jaw holding you there as he walked you both to his work table. The wood had met you back as he knelt to pick you up. Your hands slid over and into his locks. Tugging him closer to you as he stood in between your thighs. 

“Say the word…” He pulled away from your lips kissing down your jaw, onto your neck. “And I’ll stop.” He breathed out as he took note of each sigh of contentment you let out. 

“D-Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” You lifted his chin to have him look at you once more. You curled a hand into his hair and crashed your lips onto his.

“I won’t stop then.” He pecked your lips, pulling back in a teasing manner. You grabbed both sides of his face to press your mouths together, having enough of his playfulness. You just wanted him then and there. You knew you were in for a long evening hearing him unzip his slacks. His belt buckle following next.

“P-Promise this isn’t just a one-time thing. That this won’t be like Erin or any of the other girls you’ve been with. That you won’t leave after this. This is my first time after all.”

“Is that what’s worrying you?” He leaned in and pecked your lips sweetly. 

“Would you be upset if it was?”

“No. Thank you for being open and honest about your concerns to me. But I promise you this time it's different, with you it’s different. I feel something when I’m with you, and I don’t want to find out what my life will be like if you aren’t in it any time soon, but as long as you’re game. I’m in this for the long run.”

“I thought Cole Walter didn’t do relationships…” Cole knew you were only kidding by the teasing in your tone.

“Yeah well that Cole didn’t know what love felt like until he met you.”

“You love me?” You grin feeling that warmth spread over your heart once more. 

“I love you.” He nodded certainly.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Fix it For You

Igor x fem!reader

You meet Igor at a bar and he somehow worms his way into your heart by being your personal handyman.

word count: 10k

This is in collaboration with the talented, brilliant, amazing, show stopping @the-witty-pen-name! Love you, Cole!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) oral (both m and f receiving) mention of grief and loss of a loved one

The bar is nothing but busy when Igor enters it. He was hoping a small place like this would be quiet but it’s fucking loud that he can barely even hear himself think. He’s about to just leave when he sees you behind the bar, a bright smile on your face as you serve drinks. He thinks he can stay for a minute. 

He shrugs off his jacket and sets it on a still before sitting down. You turn towards him and your face lights up as you make eye contact with him, almost as if you’re old friends. He’s trying his best to hide his pink cheeks, hoping that you can’t see them. 

He catches your eye immediately and you think you might actually flirt with him for real and not just to get tips. He’s cute, unlike most of the guys you see around. He seems shy and you’re not sure that he feels comfortable here considering his constant looking around the place. 

You stare at him for longer than you should, taking in all of his features, wondering if already slipping him your phone number is too much since he’s just entered the door. You finish up with your customer then head over to where he’s sitting, already starting on your closing side work so you’re guaranteed to get out of there at a decent time.

“What can I get you, handsome?” You ask and as you wipe down a glass and all of the English words he’s learned for this very situation have disappeared from his head. Trying to save himself, he picks up the little menu to the left of him and points at one of the beer names he recognizes and you nod, turning your back and fetching it for him. 

A guy sits to the left of him and in unison, they light up some cigarettes which you are quick to notice, whipping around and setting the beer in front of Igor before breaking the bad news. 

“Sorry guys, you can’t smoke in here,” you tell them and Igor mumbles a quick “sorry” before stubbing it out onto the bar before grabbing a napkin and sweeping the ash into it and discarding it into the trash. 

“Says who?” The guy asks and Igor has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He will never understand why people always want to put up a fight. 

“Me,” you point to yourself then the giant “no smoking” sign above your head, that in Igor’s defense, he couldn’t read since he’s still learning to read in English. He can understand it just fine but reading and writing and speaking it are just so difficult for him no matter how hard he tries with all of the different apps. 

“And all of the signs all over the place.” 

“Well,” the guy’s about to speak but Igor nudges his shoulder and motions with his hands to tell him to cut it out. 

“Fucking bitch,” he mutters under his breath and that’s the final straw for Igor. Before he can stop himself, he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it into the floor, stubbing it out. He then throws a hard punch directly at the guy’s nose, making you and everyone else in the place gasp. 

Once he feels like the guy’s gotten the message, he grabs him by the hair and forces him to look you in the eye. 

“Apologize,” he commands and the guy mutters the words “I’m sorry” to you before Igor drags him over to the door and throws him out onto the sidewalk. 

He then makes his way back over to the bar and sits back down on his stool as there are scattered claps for him and his cheeks are bright red now even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol. He hates having attention on him, but seeing the way you’re looking at him, it all seems to be worth it. 

It looks like he just did that whole thing on a whim, but what most people don’t know is that this is his job. He’s so used to throwing people around for a living that even off the clock, he feels like it’s his job to dispose of the people who are causing problems even though he’s not getting paid for it.

He takes a sip from his beer and you set a plate with a burger and fries in front of him to which he looks at you with a questioning look. 

“It’s on the house,” you tell him. “Along with anything else you’d like. For being my hero and all.” 

“Oh-“ He wouldn’t want to take advantage of your kindness, but he just feels so lonely all the time so he’s going to take what he can get. He of course has his grandmother, but his job just makes him feel so isolated because he always only gets seen as the muscle, told what to do and when to do it and no one really makes small talk with him like they do with the others. Most days, he just feels like he only has himself. 

And being from another country that doesn’t speak English doesn’t help either. He’s been learning but it’s been a struggle for him, the app he uses for his lessons being his only company most days. He’s been trying to speak with his new words, but they sound weird, heavy on his tongue like he’s trying too hard so he just doesn’t say anything. People have made fun of him multiple times because of his accent so he just doesn’t want to even try anymore.

“No one’s ever done anything like that for me before so you deserve it.” He doesn’t want to believe that but the sad look in your eyes is leading him to believe that you’re telling the truth and that breaks his heart.

“Thank you,” he nods, then takes a bite out of the burger which somehow has everything he likes on it. 

“It’s y/n,” you tell him as he smiles as he continues to chew. Once he swallows, he takes a sip of his beer then sits there, trying to repeat it like you said it. 

“Y/n,” he repeats and even though it sounds foreign on his tongue, he has to admit that he likes it a lot. So he says it again. “Y/n.” 

“Yep, just like that. What’s your name?” You ask, leaning down on the bar and you’re surprised when he maintains eye contact, not even trying to sneak a peek at your cleavage. 

“Igor,” he replies, his accent thick as he introduces himself. 

“Igor,” you repeat and he hates the way he melts at hearing you say it. It sounds so much better coming from your mouth. “I like that. Where are you from?”

“Armenia,” he replies before taking a sip from his beer and you nod. You begin to wipe down glasses and he’s becoming disappointed that this might be the end of your journey together. He just likes your company. You’re easy to talk to and you don’t get onto him about being a man of a few words. You go at his pace like no one else seems to want to do and he really appreciates that. 

“I’ve never been there,” you reply and that makes sense to him. It’s a country that most people don’t even think about. “But I’ve always wanted to.” His face lights up at your words and he doesn’t even care if he looks silly. It’s like you’re saying all the right things to make him feel like he finally has a friend. 

“My mom is actually Armenian. Was,” You correct yourself. “She was. Sorry, she passed away last year and this is all still new to me. We were supposed to go this fall. I still have my ticket, but I’m too afraid to go by myself. Sorry,” you shake your head, suddenly realizing who you’re talking to. “This isn’t your problem.” 

You’re now wiping down the counter and he’s trying his best to scarf down his meal so he can get out of your hair as he holds up his plate so you can wipe down right there. You laugh at him holding his plate under his chin as he eats but he just hates when people overstay their welcome, especially at establishments like this. He should be going to bed anyway since he’s got an early morning. 

But instead of going home like he planned, he sits there at the bar, watching you close up because you insist on having the company and who is he to say no? You’re just so persuasive-not that he would need much convincing to hang out with you. Even in just the few hours that he’s spent with you, it’s like all of the screaming in his head has stopped. It’s now filled with your laugh and the jokes you’ve made throughout the night. 

You’ve been scared to get close to people since your mom died and you know that you just met Igor, but there’s something about him that makes you feel safe, appreciated. Even though he doesn’t speak much, you just love that he listens and only adds input when necessary. A lot of men you’ve come across, especially when working, seem to love the sound of their own voices, so everything about Igor is refreshing to you. 

The bar is clean and everyone is gone besides the two of you. You make sure that everything is good to go for whoever is opening and Igor is still there when you come from the back with your purse and jacket. He gets off his stool and holds his hands out, gesturing to your coat. He holds it open for you and you try not to let your heart melt at the sweet gesture. Once he’s got his on, he makes sure that you’re in front of you, making sure to open the door for once the two of you exit the bar. He stands close to you as you lock up, constantly looking over his shoulder because he knows that the freaks always come out at night. 

Once you’re settled, you drop the keys into your purse and head down the street, Igor following closely behind, still on high alert in case he needs to take action. If he didn’t feel like he was overstepping, he would wrap his arm around you for extra protection. He wants to so badly, but he settles for walking behind you since it’s easier to block if someone tries to come from that direction. 

You seem to be feeling the same way because before he can even register what’s happening, you’re grabbing his arm and wrapping your own around it like it’s something you’ve done thousands of times. Igor goes stiff at the sudden action but he doesn’t dare stop you. Something about it just feels so right having you hold onto him as you yap away. 

And you don’t even seem to bat an eye that he’s walking you home even though he didn’t ask. You can defend yourself if need be with your pepper spray or stun gun, but there’s something about a man being protective of you that makes you feel special. Especially since Igor barely even knows you. In fact, he doesn't even know you at all. 

But maybe you want him to. Maybe you want to invite him inside where you can share a joint and have a glass of wine while you watch something on the tv. You don’t think you can take any more than that but that actually sounds nice. 

You used to spend so much time with your mom that it still feels weird doing things by yourself even though the idea of letting anyone else in is terrifying. After she passed, you cut off everyone who mattered to you unintentionally and now it feels weird even possibly letting someone else into your little bubble. 

You have to remind yourself that this is just one night. You don’t have to fully let Igor in if you don’t want to and you’re sure that he would be okay with whatever you wanted. You don’t have to make any big decisions right now so you don’t know what you’re so worried about.

When you finally get out of your head and turn to him, he’s smoking a cigarette, taking a long drag before holding it out to you. You take it from him, your fingers brushing as you do so and he tries his best not to stare at your mouth as you put it between your lips. He does his best to not think about what it might be like to kiss you. 

He doesn’t even know what’s going on here, but he’ll stay as long as you’re willing to keep him around. All his life, all Igor has wanted was to be wanted. He’s always a last resort, the person people hang around when the person they want isn’t available. But you picked him when there were so many men in the bar you could have gone home with. For the first time in his life, he’s feeling wanted. 

You hand the cigarette back with a polite “thank you” before pulling him along as a gust of wind comes your way. And without even a second thought, he turns you to face him, puts his cigarette between his lips and zips up your jacket for you. It’s your turn to stare at his lips now, wanting to know what they’d feel like against yours. You wonder if he’d be sweet or if he’ll push you against the brick wall behind you. 

“Oh,” you say, the sweet gesture catching you off guard. “Thank you, Igor.” Hearing his name fall from your lips again, laced with so much sweetness is making his heart grow even more. You’re smiling up at him as you take hold of his arm again and he doesn’t know how he’s going to leave you after walking you home. Maybe he’ll just have to come back to the bar again after tonight. 

“You’re-” he says and even though you know what he’s trying to say, you don’t try to finish his sentence, letting him get there on his own. You can only imagine how hard it would be to learn English of all languages. “Welcome?” He asks and your smile widens, almost as if you’re proud of him. 

“Right,” you nod as you pull him down the street. He has no idea where you’re taking him and he’s afraid that he’d follow you anywhere. Even if you were to lure him to his death, he’d still follow you because there’s something about you that’s alluring. 

He follows you a few more blocks, now holding your hand as you pull him along and he feels disappointed when you stop at what he assumes is your apartment building. He’s waiting for you to let go, but you’re staring at him with that pretty smile as you swing your linked hands back and forth. God, he could do this for hours. 

You’re stalling now, not wanting to go inside, contemplating inviting him to come with you, but you don’t know what the protocol is here. This has never happened to you before. You normally know exactly what’s going on when you’re spending time with a man, but you can’t get a read on Igor. You know that he’s into you, or at least likes spending time with you because he willingly walked you home from the bar, but other than that, you’re not entirely sure what’s going through his head. 

He holds the door open for you, his other hand still holding yours as he does so and you nod your head towards the lobby as you head inside. 

“You can come in if you want.” He nods once then follows you towards the stairs, the elevators having signs on them that say that they’re out of order. You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. They’ve been like that since you moved in three years ago. 

He follows you up the stairs as you tell him all about the building which you know because you have way too much time during the day to google things like that. He’s fascinated by all of your knowledge, not bored in the slightest as he nods along even though you’re in front of him and can’t see what he’s doing. 

“I know a lot of fun facts. What about you?” You ask and he wracks his brain. “Anything you find interesting?” You he wants to say but decides against it even though he wants to know everything about you. He wants to know your favorite color, what side of the bed you sleep on, how you take your coffee in the morning. 

This is all so new to him. He’s never felt the way before, especially not about a stranger and it’s making him feel crazy for wanting to be close to you, to want to talk to you all night. Maybe if he plays his card right, he might get your phone number or maybe even a kiss if he’s really lucky. 

“No,” he replies as you open the door to your floor, holding it open for him this time and he thanks you as he steps through it. 

“What interests you?” You ask, suddenly feeling guilty for only talking about yourself but little do you know is that he doesn’t mind one bit. He thinks he’s quite boring in comparison. All he likes to do is sit with his grandmother while the two of them crochet while watching television. 

“Crochet,” he replies, his cheeks heating because he knows it’s not a manly thing to do but you smile at him again and he swears he’s going to faint right there. 

“I love that,” you reply as you unlock your door. “You should make me something sometime.” He knows you don’t really mean it but you have no idea that he will do whatever you fucking ask. 

“I can do that,” he nods, already examining your apartment when he steps inside to see what kind of things you like. He’s too shy to actually ask, so he’s just going to do what he does best and observe. 

You’re trying not to fall for him, you really are, but how can you not when he tells you that he crochets and zips up your jacket and walks you home? He’s the perfect gentleman, the kind you only read about in books and he’s here, right in front of you and for whatever reason, you’ve convinced yourself that you can’t have him. 

He’s just going to be a friend. He has to be because all men do is hurt you and you really can’t have that happen again. Keeping him at arm's length just makes sense for right now. 

As soon as the door is closed, he helps you take off your jacket and you hang both yours and his on the rack before turning to him. 

“I really have to go to the bathroom, but please, feel free to make yourself at home.” You gesture towards the living room then disappear down the hallway, leaving Igor alone for the first time since you met him. 

He can’t help but notice your apartment feels like you. It’s hard to explain but your essence is everywhere in this space. Even while you’re away in the other room, he still feels surrounded by you. It’s so full of life. 

It could be all of the fucking plants that seem to be living on every space. Your bookshelves, your tables, on top of your cabinets…it seems like they’re invading every nook and cranny. He admires it, knowing how much effort and care must go into keeping them alive and thriving like you’ve done. He grew up helping his grandmother garden so he can understand how much work it can be. He smiles to himself, thinking how telling it is that you have so many things you have cared for that just surround him. 

The buzzing in his head is coming back as soon as you leave and he looks around for something to distract him. He sees a package of lightbulbs on the island and when he looks up, he realizes that the buzzing isn’t in his head, but the lightbulb above the island that won’t stop blinking. He doesn’t know why it hasn’t been changed because it’s only been a few seconds and he’s already about to go crazy. 

He sits on the island and takes one of the bulbs from the package and quickly switches it out with the one that’s almost out, discarding it in the trash can that’s on the side of the island just as you’re coming out of the bathroom. 

You can’t help but gasp as you immediately notice that the flickering and stupid buzzing has stopped and resist the urge to throw yourself into Igor’s arms and pepper his face in kisses. You had spent months trying to get that bulb unscrewed but it just wouldn’t budge. And you’re fucking super wouldn’t send someone to fix it so you’d been stuck with that stupid light for ages. 

“Oh my god, did you just change the bulb?” You ask and he steps back, afraid that he’s offended you but when you smile at him yet again, he has to let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t fuck up this time. 

Before he can register what’s happening, you’re standing on your toes and pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek. It feels warm when you pull away so he’s sure that he’s blushing, turning away to make sure that you don’t see it. 

“You’re cute,” you tell him as you pinch his cheek and if he didn’t think so before, now he’s really thinking that you and his grandmother would get along so well. He’s convinced that she’d love you. He’s never brought a woman home now and then she’d start asking about marriage and great grandchildren and that would definitely be far too much for you, he’s sure of it. 

“Cute?” He asks with a scoff. He’s only heard that word to describe animals and small children, not grown adults. It’s weird, he has to admit, but he’ll take any compliment you’re willing to give him. 

“Adorable,” you pinch his cheeks again, loving how you can make this scary looking man weak in the knees. 

“I think that’s you,” he says and you can’t help but smile again. You’ve been doing that so much tonight that your cheeks hurt more than normal. 

“No,” he shakes his head, leaning closer so that your faces are only inches apart. “It’s not a competition but if it was, you would win.” 

“Igor,” you gasp, followed by a giggle. “Who knew you were such a flirt.”

“I should go,” he says and you pout. You now don’t know what you’re going to do without him. “I can give you my phone number.” Your face lights up as you fish your phone out of your back pocket and pass it to him. He quickly types his number in then hands it back to you before heading towards the door reluctantly as he grabs his jacket. 

He really hopes you call soon because as he’s heading down the hallway and to the stairs, he already misses you. This has never happened to him before and this is why he doesn’t get attached because it just complicates everything, especially his job. But he can’t help but be aware of the magnetic pull between the two of you and for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to stop it. 

You close and lock the door once he’s gone and decide that you should head to bed. As you do so, can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have him on the other side of the bed, cuddling you to his chest as his fingers run through your hair, murmuring sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep. 

_

As you wake up to go to work a few days later, you notice that the cabinet in your bathroom that the mirror is attached to is screwed up. It’s hanging off one of the hinges, looking like it’s seconds from falling to the floor. You know your super won’t send anyone out to fix it (He never actually does his fucking job.) so you have to take matters into your own hands and figure out what the fuck to do. Part of you wants to call Igor, but you feel like you’d be bothering him and he also has a job so you don’t want to interrupt his day.

You go back and forth in your head, and you let your finger hover over his contact as you try to decide what to do. Screw it. You think to yourself. The worst thing is that he will say no. So you press the call button before you chicken out, and your heart is in your stomach as the phone rings and rings. Voicemail. 

“Hey- um, it’s me. Uh, (Y/N)… we met a couple days ago at the bar, you walked me home and saved me from the horrific buzzing lightbulb in my apartment?” You chuckle nervously, you can feel yourself rambling but you can’t help it. It’s compulsive. “Listen, I hate to ask this of you, but I don’t have anyone else to ask- my super actually fucking sucks. My bathroom cabinet is like one step away from just giving out so if you’re around- I can pay you. If you don’t mind! Just let me know! No worries either way!”

He’s so thankful he’s wearing air pods. Igor would never hear the end of it if the guys in the car with him could hear him listening to the same voicemail over and over again. He can’t let himself get swept up in the giddiness he feels that you finally called. He needs to be on. No one can be intimidating if they’re blushing- especially him. He just hates that he needs to wait until after this job to call you, he hates that he can’t just drop everything he’s doing and head straight there. 

It’s a few hours later when he finally calls, and you feel like your stomach does a flip when you see his name pop up. You answer maybe a little too quickly but you’re too anxious to talk to him again you can’t find it in you to care. 

“Hey,” you say brightly, maybe coming off a little strong. 

“Hey, sorry. I just got your message.” Lie. “I was working. I can come over now if you‘ll be home?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant. He hates talking on the phone but he could do this with you for hours. He instantly feels calm around you, no longer feeling the stress of his job that’s always on his shoulders when he’s speaking to you. 

“Yeah,” you nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’ll be home all day so just whenever.” 

“I’ll be on my way in a minute.” He doesn’t tell you how fast he plans on driving fast to get to you quicker. He has to see what you need and maybe he’s just desperate to see you again since he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the other night. 

“Oh, thank you so much, Igor. I really appreciate it!” You hang up before he can say “you’re welcome” and he gets into his car to head to you. 

He’s there in a flash, knocking on your door as he stands there, out of breath. You pull the door open and he stares at you, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives an awkward wave. 

You’ve never had someone drop what they were doing to come meet you so you’re caught off guard by how quickly he showed up. He’s standing there with his little tool box and you’re wondering how you’re already falling for him after only seeing him twice. This never happens and now you’re wondering if fate has anything to do with it as opposed to your apartment just being shitty. 

You’re going to choose to believe that it’s fate even if your apartment is that shitty. Because this is the first time since your mother passed that you’ve felt like you can trust someone. You feel safe with Igor despite having only seen him once before now. Something about it just feels so right and now you want to take a leap and dive head first into whatever this is. 

“It’s straight through here,” you lead him to the bathroom and he sets his tool box down, following you to assess the situation, but as soon as you both enter the small space, the mirror gives and falls to the floor, the glass shattering into a million pieces. 

Igor is quick to grab hold of you and pull you back, tucking your head into his chest with his hand while his other holds onto your waist in a protective manner. You’re both breathing heavily, still holding onto each other even after the loud crash. 

This is the closest you’ve ever been and there’s just something about it that just feels right. You feel safe, protected. And this is unlike how you’ve felt with any other man. 

Igor feels the same way, loving holding you in his arms. In this moment, he feels like nothing can hurt you because he’s got you. It feels so intimate and he’s not sure when the last time he held someone like this was. Something about it just feels so right and now he’s not sure he wants to let go. 

You stay like that for a little longer until he finally pulls away, making sure that you’re almost before he asks where your broom is, sweeping up the mess without a word. He’s so thoughtful and you keep wondering how no one has snatched him up but you’re secretly grateful because now you have him all to yourself. Your own personal handyman. 

_

It’s to a point where Igor is at your apartment more often than not and now you’ve given him a key to the place so he doesn’t have to knock every time. It might just be a key but it means so much more to the both of you. That this might be becoming more than just a friendship. 

You’ve cuddled on your couch after he’s finished up your tasks for him more times than either of you can count. You order dinner for the both of you and you talk over your meals, laughing about things on the tv. You’re not even official yet but you both know that there’s something there. Maybe if either of you could get it together, you’d get the guts to actually ask. 

-

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The sound of your kitchen sink was driving you absolutely insane. It has been days, and you did your best up until now to ignore it. It was becoming unbearable. It was all you could hear and you swear it was becoming louder with every passing day. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

I’m so sorry to ask another favor. My landlord will not send someone out to fix my faucet and it’s driving me crazy. Do you know what to do to fix it? 

Igor couldn’t help the way he was smiling to himself when he read your text. He couldn’t help but feel practically giddy at the idea that you need his help- that you need him. It was an indescribable feeling that bubbled up and made his entire body feel overwhelmingly warm. He’d fix everything, solve all your problems- anything you asked. He liked being the one you turned to. 

I can come by today

Whenever you can! Don’t worry about it- no rush. 

He chuckles to himself, as if he wouldn’t drop whatever he was doing to help you when you call. He appreciates how sincere you are, not wanting to take advantage of his kindness. He wishes you’d realize how much he wants you to take advantage of him. He wants to help you, he wants to do anything to just make you happy. If fixing a leak, a light bulb, a loose hinge… if that made you smile, he’d gladly do it no questions asked. He’s at your apartment within the hour and you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are.

“Hi,” he says simply, and you can hear that he sounds a little breathless. Did he run up the stairs? You can’t help but feel a little flustered at the idea as you step aside to let him in. 

“Hi,” you say back, grinning. 

“I brought the stuff,” he says matter of factly, holding up his tool box. 

“I really appreciate this, honestly,” you say, leading him over to the kitchen- directly to the offensively loud kitchen sink. “You’re a lifesaver.” Your praise makes his heart swell, and he does his best to look the other way so you don’t see him blush. 

He takes a moment to just observe as he puts his tools down on the counter. You noticed that about him- how incredibly thoughtful he is with everything. He doesn’t ever rush- except when he threw that guy out at the bar. But even then, everything was just so concise. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone like him. You have to physically shake your head to expel the thoughts before you let yourself get so wrapped up in watching him. 

“This shouldn’t be difficult,” he muses. “I have it handled, just do whatever you need to do.”

He opens the cabinet doors under your kitchen sink so he can look at the pipes, and he sees the source of the problem. You watch as he lays on his back and sticks his head into the cabinet to get a closer look at the pipes, shining a flashlight in the right spot. You don’t want to hover, or annoy him with a million questions so you decide to just follow his advice and continue on with your day. 

You look down at your appearance as you walk out of the kitchen into your bedroom. You were still in the clothes you slept in and your hair was one or two days past your normal wash day. You hadn’t thought about that and now you’re a little embarrassed he’s seen you like this but you rationalize that he didn’t notice or even care. 

Peeking out into the kitchen again, Igor’s head is still buried under the sink as he tinkered away so you decide you can probably sneak into the shower without him noticing. You escape back into your bedroom and peel off your clothes, tossing them haphazardly into your hamper. You pull on your robe, which is suddenly feeling so much shorter than it usually does. 

You tie the belt of your robe securely around your waist and use one hand to keep the top closed snugly across your chest. You poke your head out to see if he’s still working. Thankfully, he is so you tip toe across the hallway. But of course, your apartment is ancient so the floor creaks loudly as you forget to avoid that one spot on the floor. You wince, hoping he didn’t hear it, pausing for a moment. You hold your breath, even though you aren’t sure why. 

The unexpected sound makes him jump, and he curses in Russian when he hits his head on the pipe. You rush over to him as he clutches his head and kneel beside him to get a look at his wound. His skin is red when you pull his hand away, but he’s not even thinking about that. He’s distracted by your robe and what’s underneath it, scolding himself for the impure thoughts, but he can’t help it. What would happen if he just reached up and-

“Igor?” You ask and his eyes snap up to your face, hoping that you didn’t catch him staring at the top part of your robe that opened just a bit. He couldn’t see anything, but god does he want to. “I’m gonna get you some ice, okay?” You ask and he totally doesn’t get a glimpse up your robe when you stand up and head to the freezer to grab an ice pack. 

“Here,” you tell him as you rest the ice pack that you’ve wrapped in a towel on to his forehead. He doesn’t even need it now but he appreciates the gesture. 

“Thank you,” he says, as he moves so he can lie back onto the floor but he notices something soft underneath his head. You got him a pillow. You’re so sweet and he has no idea what he did to deserve this treatment but there’s no way he’s going to deny it. “I’m fine, really.” 

“Right, because a concussed man wouldn’t feel fine enough to look up my robe.” You say it as a joke, but his cheeks are burning, his eyes widening as he realizes that he’s been caught. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you kneel beside him again. “I don’t mind. In fact, you can look all you want.” You’re being so flirty and he can’t believe this is happening. It’s something he only thought was possible in his dreams. 

You lean closer, your face only inches from his. So close that he could just lean in and-

“Can I try something?” You ask in a whisper and he nods enthusiastically. Whatever it is, he’s down. He watches you get up on your knees and in a flash, you’re sitting on his face. 

You sit there for a second then panic when he doesn’t do anything, wondering if you read the situation wrong. If you completely fucked up the whole thing you had going on. You go to get off him, but in an instant, he grabs hold of your thighs and pulls you back down, causing a gasp to fall from your lips. 

Just when you’re about to ask what’s going on, you feel him spread your legs, his tongue gliding over your cunt as you lean forward, pressing your hands against the hardwood because you know that your legs already feel like jello. 

You let out a moan as his tongue moves down to your slit, licking and sucking before introducing his teeth, eating you out like he’s a man starved. This is exactly what the both of you needed and you can’t believe it took so long to get there. 

You’re hitting your fist against the floor as he continues, not even caring if you get a noise complaint from your neighbors because it just feels so good. 

His hand reaches up and unties your robe before he gently rolls you onto your back, pulling away as he pushes your robe open to get a good look at you. He mutters something in Russian that you’ve heard multiple times but you still don’t know what it means. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, staring down at you and he prays that you can’t see how lovesick he really is. Seeing you lying there completely naked for him, that you trust him that much, it’s making him fall for you even harder. 

“You think so?” You ask, your skin feeling like it’s on fire as he’s now looking like wants to eat you whole. 

“Swear,” he nods before hooking your legs over his shoulders then going in again, hungrier as he continues, feeling his cock straining in his jeans as he hears you moan over and over, feeling you grabbing at his shirt, balling it in your fists just to have something to hold onto. 

You’re already close, feeling an orgasm build and for once, you’re not in your head, wondering if you’re doing it right. With Igor, something just clicks and you’re able to stop yourself from overthinking. All you can think about right now is that he definitely knows that he’s doing.  

His name spills out of your mouth in a breathy moan as you reach your climax, your back arching as you scratch up the part of his back that’s exposed by his bunched up shirt. He goes for one more bite before pulling away, wiping his face with his shirt. 

He closes your robe and gently ties it before leaning down, his face only inches from yours. You’re sure, positive that he’s going to kiss you, but he just smiles, the one that’s only reserved for you. 

“Go shower,” he says and you nod as he stands to help you up but as soon as your feet hit the floor, your knees give out and he’s quick to catch you. He picks you up and carries you to the bathroom and sets you on the toilet before turning on the water for you. He then wordlessly leaves, shutting the door behind him to go finish the pipes, both of you not able to think about anything besides what just happened. 

All Igor can think about since he left your apartment the other day is you. Well, more specifically, how he should have kissed you when he had the chance. You were right there but he was scared. He doesn’t normally kiss people during sex because that’s just too intimate for him so he avoids it at all costs. But he wanted- wants to kiss you so badly that it hurts. 

It’s plaguing his mind, all he’s been able to think about ever since. He just sees your lips and wonders what they’d feel like slotted between his. He just knows they’d taste like that lip balm he always sees you putting on and he desperately wishes he could rewind time and just go for it. It’s been days and he can’t escape it, and it’s driving him absolutely insane. He feels like he’s reaching a breaking point and he needs to do something about it. 

Fuck it. 

Before he even thinks about what he’s doing, and it’s so unlike him to not think something through, he’s knocking on the door to your apartment, silently praying that you’ll be home. He can’t stand it anymore. He’s sick of waiting, he’s sick of holding himself back- 

“Igor, what-” 

His lips are pressed against yours and you both feel sparks, butterflies, electricity- whatever you want to call it. He feels everything when he’s around you, and he can’t let himself deny it anymore. Your lips are just as soft as he dreamed about, and he worries he took things too far until he feels you relax into his touch and kiss him back, your lips slotting against his in perfect rhythm. 

His hands cup your face, his thumb affectionately rubbing gently over your cheek as he walks you both back into the apartment. He kicks the front door shut behind him, not even caring in the least at how loud it slammed shut. Your hands rest on his chest, melting against him. You feel practically dizzy. He takes up all of your senses. 

You don’t break the kiss until you're both breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you try your best to calm the beating of your heart. Your chests rise and fall in sync as you both just silently bask in the aftermath of the kiss. You can’t help the lovesick smile that spreads across your face as you open your eyes to see him smiling back at you. 

“я тебя люблю.” When he musters up the courage to finally fucking say it, it feels like a weight has been lifting off his shoulders. He’s burdened him by keeping his emotions hidden for far too long. He’s done, he’s never felt more confident in anything before. This is it- you’re it. He knows it. “I love you,” he reaffirms, making it clear. 

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his confession. His statement hangs in the air for a moment as your eyes scan his. You can’t believe what you’ve heard for a moment- it all feels too good to be true. But, you let yourself believe him. You finally feel ready to fully let him in. You know you can trust your heart with him. He’s who you want, always. 

“I love you too.” 

You press your lips to his again, not wanting to be apart for as long as you have already. You feel like you have so much time you need to make up for and you don’t want to waste another second. With your lips never leaving his, your tongue is in his mouth as you pull him further into your apartment. He lets you drag him, happily. He’d follow you anywhere. 

Guiding him into your bedroom, you gently push him down onto your bed. He’s sitting on the edge as you straddle his waist. He wraps his arms around you, his hands slipping under your shirt to rub your back and your arms wrap around his neck. You smirk against his lips when you feel his bulge underneath you. Emboldened, you grind down on it and elicit the softest moan from his lips. You’re already addicted to hearing it and you want more. You do it again, proud of yourself, for being the one who makes him feel like this. 

He’s disappointed when he feels you pulling away from him, and he pouts until he sees you sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyes widen, watching you so intensely and it thrills you. You fumble with the fly of his jeans, pulling the zipper so tantalizingly slow that he thinks he might combust. 

“Always take such good care of me,” you purr, and you tug on the waistband of his boxers. He helps you get them down his legs and you swear he hasn’t even blinked. “I want to show you how much I appreciate it… how much I need you.” 

Oh, he’s completely and utterly fucked. He wants this so bad that it actually hurts. He can feel it straining in his jeans and he just needs some release. You’re pulling his pants down and both them and his boxers drop to his ankles. 

You stare up at him with that flirty look and he’s glad he’s sitting because if he wasn’t, he’s sure that he’d need to. He presses his hands against the mattress as you spit into your hand, wrapping it around him before pumping. 

He watches you, a shuddered breath falling from his lips as his eyes flutter closed. No one’s done this to him in so long and he forgot how it felt. And maybe this is because it’s you, but he’s convinced that this is the best handjob he’s ever received. The sensation is overwhelming, and he can’t help but throw his head back as he chokes back a moan.

“I wanna hear you,” you coax, running your hand up his thigh encouragingly. He nods, biting his lip as he watches you. Fuck, you’re so pretty. He’s mesmerized by every little thing you’re doing, taking it all in. He watches as he’s wetting his lips because suddenly his mouth feels too dry as you tilt your head down, licking a long stripe from the base of his cock to his tip. 

He whimpers, gasping at how good it feels as you kitten lick the precum from his slit. You look at him with these doe eyes as you sink your pretty lips down on his cock and he can’t even think straight. His breathing his jagged as he brushes your hair out of your face for you, and he can’t help but just admire you. He swears he’s never felt this good. 

“Fuck,” he moans, as he feels your tongue swirl around his shaft. He feels like he might pass out if you keep going like this. You’re going to make him see stars and he’ll forget his own name. “You feel so good… красивая девушка,” [“beautiful girl,”] he gasps, stroking your hair as he gazes down at you like he’s in a trance. “So close… fuck.” 

He feels like all of the blood in his body is rushing to his cock as he feels that familiar coil winding inside him. He wants to ask you what to do, he doesn’t want to assume. It’s like you can sense the question before he’s able to ask, because you quicken your pace almost like you're daring him to finish. His eyes shut tightly, and his whole body shivers as he cums and you still don’t stop. 

He’s struggling to catch his breath, his body practically feeling like putty in your hands as your fingers stoke his thighs comfortingly as he comes back from his orgasm. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he’s at a loss for words when you open your mouth- sticking out your tongue just enough to show him how you’re swallowing everything he gave you. Fuck. 

He’s quick to cup your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you again. With a gentle touch, he’s guiding you back up towards him as you peel your sweats and your soaks panties down your legs. You’re shocked that he still wants to keep going- guys you’ve been with before would be done by now, but not him. He’s so completely obsessed with getting you closer, keeping you closer- you both are nowhere near done. He has too much time to make up for. 

As you straddle his waist, he guides you down gently on his cock and you softly moan against his ear as you feel the way he stretches you out perfectly. The atmosphere around the two of you has changed- neither of you frenzied, but ready to settle into each other. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nuzzles into your collarbone, pressing kisses over the fabric of your shirt before pulling it off of you. 

God, you make him feel so warm everywhere. His breath catches in his throat when you finally sink down on him completely and he worries perhaps that his heart stopped. He presses his forehead against yours, his large hands wrapping around your back pulling you close- your bare chest flush against his. 

“You feel incredible,” he praises, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck and down your shoulder. You tentatively move your hips and his hands find your waist, holding you still and at first, it confuses you. When you realize what he’s silently asking for, you’re more than happy to oblige. You hold his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck and he strokes your hair. 

It’s so intimate. And you feel so strange by how much that it doesn’t scare you- not anymore, not when it’s him. 

It’s a few moments until you're squirming, desperate for a little friction. You start small, grinding your hips again slowly, drawing out your movements as you carefully observe his reaction. He must feel the same desperation as you do, because it’s all he needs. He groans, throwing his head back, overstimulated at the sensation. His hands slide down, holding you securely as he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss and thrusts up into you messy and desperate. 

“Love you,” he pants, your breath hot and jagged in your ear. It sends shivers up your spine. “Only want you,” he promises, and he says it like a needy whine as you feel his movements getting sloppier. 

Your fingers are digging into his shoulders, and you're leaving red marks all over his skin. He loves it, wanting to see all the evidence that you were everywhere. He needs the reminder when you’re not around that this was all actually real. Your nails against his skin make him shiver, and he suddenly is hyper aware that he loves the sensation. That’s not even something he’s even thought before- he’s just so attracted to every part of you that he’s infatuated with your nails for fucksake. He loves it, he loves you, he wants to spoil you if you’d just let him. He’ll pay for you to get your nails done pretty however you like if you keep using them to mark him up like this. 

You’re moaning, his name falling from your lips and you look so pretty sitting on his cock that he can’t focus on anything else. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, overwhelmed entirely by how well he’s hitting that one spot so well that it’s making tears prick in the corners of your eyes. He’s feeling so close, so desperately on edge that he can’t think straight- but he still reaches up, and gently wipes them away with his thumb. It’s a touch that’s way too tender in contrast to the way he’s fucking you. 

You feel yourself getting close, and you swear that you’re seeing stars as your orgasm washes over you. You cry out, burying your face in his chest because you’re feeling so sensitive. He can feel you tighten around his cock and he knows he won’t be able to last much longer. He can see that your orgasm exhausted you, so he skillfully flips you both gently so you're laying on the bed and he’s hovering over you. 

“Fuck, you did so well,” he praises, continuing his pace, kissing you. He’s holding his upper body up on his hands as they rest on either side of your head. He’s gazing down at you, taking in how you look in this moment- your hair splaying out on the bedspread, your chest rising and falling as you breathe, your eyes looking up at him… it’s all too much. 

He feels like all of the emotion, everything he’s feeling, all of it just begins to bubble over and he pulls out just in time before his orgasm hits him like a large wave. He finishes on your stomach and he rests his head against the crook of your neck as he takes a second to catch his breath. 

Your eyes feel heavy as you both lie there for a moment, the haze taking over both of you. He kisses your cheek, pushing your hair back from your forehead. He gets up, promising he’ll be right back. You can hear the sink running, and he waits for the water to warm before he runs a cloth under the stream for you. 

You can hear him puttering around, and you’re starting to wonder what he’s doing that’s taking so long. Just when you begin to wonder, he’s walking back into the room with a warm damp cloth in one hand and your reusable water bottle in the other. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, kissing your temple, and putting the water bottle in your hands. “I emptied the filter so I wanted to refill it before I forgot.” 

How did you end up here? You wonder what you did to somehow deserve this treatment. He drags the cloth gently across your skin, cleaning you up carefully. He disappears again to toss it in the hamper and then rejoins you on the bed, pulling you in close to him. You rest your head on his chest, your fingertips gently tracing the tattoo on his chest aimlessly. 

__

Not too many days after, you’re waiting outside Igor’s house- the music from your car’s speaker is making the bass vibrate as you tap your hands on the steering wheel. You sent him a text, letting him know that you’re here- cause who just walks up to the door these days? Not you. You pull down your sun visor, taking one last look at your appearance in the mirror- you were nervous. You’d never been to his house before, never met his grandmother who he spoke so highly of. It was intimidating. 

Your phone vibrates, and it’s Igor calling. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why he’s calling you instead of meeting you at the door. You answer almost immediately. 

“Hey,” you say, trying to sound more relaxed than you were. You were trying desperately to make your heart stop beating so fast with nerves as you looked over to the house. You turn off your radio. “What’s up?” You ask, trying to sound casual. 

“I’m so sorry,” He apologies, and he sounds completely sincere. “I’m not home yet. It was-uh, work thing.” How does he even begin to explain all the shit he saw today? He wants to tell you in person. He wants to just see you, knowing that would be enough to make all of the stress of today melt. “I will be there soon- as soon as I can.” He can sense your hesitation over the phone. 

“Please, go inside,” he urges, and you bite your lip feeling unsure. “My grandmother- my tatik is home- make yourself comfortable. She wants to meet you…”

“She wants to meet me?” you ask, a shy smile spreading across your face. He’s talked to his grandmother about me. The thought itself is absolutely dizzying, and you can’t remember a time you felt like this before. 

“Of course she does,” he says, a little surprised by your question. “I told her about you- please, I won’t be long. She’s expecting you to come anyway.”

“She doesn’t speak English well,” he adds quickly. You feel anxiety rise in your chest. You worry about how this interaction will go if he’s not there to translate. You decide to not let that apprehension win, and you decide to just say fuck it and go inside. 

“Okay,” you resolve, “I’ll see you soon.” 

With that, you pulled your key out of the ignition and walked up the front steps. You take a deep breath before you knock not knowing what to expect. Igor spoke so highly of her, and you wanted her to like you, desperately. 

You weren’t expecting to need to look down when she answered the door. Hunched and slow moving, she opens the door with a smile on her face. In her house and fuzzy slippers, she didn’t seem at all bothered to greet company in her pajamas. She ushered you inside before you got a chance to introduce yourself. You slide off your shoes and leave them in the front entry, and she nods approvingly. 

“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself and offer to shake her hand. She extends her fragile hand out to you and you smile, gently shaking her hand. “Igor told me he’d be late…”

“Always late,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. You can’t help but giggle at her disdain for his tardiness. “Come- help me,” she says, hurrying you into the kitchen. “Need young arms.”

Before you even realize what you’ve gotten into- you are elbows deep in kneading dough with your forehead covered with flour. She watches your technique over your shoulder and nods approvingly, appreciating your effort since she doesn’t have the strength to do it anymore. 

Igor can’t help the way his heart swells, hearing the laughter of the two of you from the entryway as he gets home. His grandmother sees him first, walking over and swatting him on the arm. 

“Почему вы не привезли ее раньше?” [“Why didn’t you bring her over sooner?”] She asks, and she sounds angry. You tilt your head confused, worried you did something. Igor offers you a gentle smile, melting at the sight of how quickly you’ve seemed to settle into his world. He sends you a reassuring look, and he watches the anxiety melt away as you continue what you’re doing. “Пришло время привести домой хорошую девочку,” [“It’s about time you brought home a good girl.”]

“Она великолепна. Не правда ли?” [“She’s great, isn’t she?”] He replies, blush forming on his cheeks. “не смущай меня” [“Don’t embarrass me.”]

She waves him off, walking back over to my side and she pats me on the shoulder for a job well done. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. 

Spending time with Igor’s grandmother in a way, made you feel more connected to your mother again in ways that you didn’t fully expect. You find yourself back in the midst of your mother’s culture, and it’s almost like you can feel her presence again. It feels like family, and it terrifies you and excites you all at the same time. 

You want to hold on to the feeling so tightly and never let go. You were so afraid of getting hurt again but if you find yourself longing for more days like this as the three of you sit around his grandmother’s dining room table. It feels so normal that you could cry. It’s stable, and it feels safe. For the first time you let yourself relax into your feelings and you can’t help but smile as Igor’s grandmother forces you to take thirds, which you know better to decline. 

After dinner, he walks you to the door and you have three tupperware containers of food in your arms his grandmother insisted on giving you to take home. He rests his hand on your back as he walks you out, guiding you gently out onto the porch so you can have a few minutes alone. 

“I think she likes me,” you smile, triumphantly and he can’t help but nod in agreement. 

“Mhm,” he murmurs, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. 

“I wanted to ask you..” you trail off, suddenly a little shy under his gaze. 

“Yes?” He asks patiently. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sweet gesture makes you shiver. 

“I have that trip… the one I was supposed to go on with my mom…” You begin, not sure how to ask him. You second guess yourself, wondering if this is all happening way too soon. You take a steadying breath. “Would you ever consider coming with me?” 

“Of course,” he promises, smiling widely. He chuckles, and it relieves all of the anxiety that built up while you sat on this question for weeks. “There are so many places I’d love to show you.”

[buggie-eyed]

THERE ARE SPOILERS UP AHEAD FOR NINJAGO DR S3!!!!

This post will be tagged properly, but I placed that warning just to be safe. You have been warned~

Now get ready for my dr s3 notes, in no particular order of importance

- Right off the bat, I love love love Frak. We didn’t get to see his personality on full display in s2, and now that I know what he’s like I freaking love this guy. He’s kind of a dick, but not on purpose, more like in a teenager way. He really reminds me of the early season ninja, when they just said whatever tf they wanted, whenever. With Arin and Sora being pretty sweet most of the time, and Wyldfyre being a little pest but not actually saying anything controversial, I like that an overly opinionated guy got added into the mix.

- with that being said, I really didn’t expect Sora to be given a real love interest, but I don’t hate her and Frak as a possible pairing. Ik people interpreted her as a lesbian but idk pan Sora also works for me. Their dynamic is pretty fun. I like that Lloyd can’t pick up on the fact that they’re bonding and not actually full on arguing.

- PIXAL MY BELOVED IS BACK AND HER EYES ARE OOPY GOOPY AND HUGE!!!!!! WHY ARE THEY SO BIG, IS IT TO SEE HER DARLING HUSBAND WITH?

- Zane being goofy w/Pixal as soon as they reunited was what got me to tear up. That might sound weird but I love love, and their love means so much to me :[

- I didn’t know I needed and Lloyd and Pixal hug until they did it and now I need more Pixal hugs with her friends

- “Wow it’s awesome that Morro got his moment. He’s so epic and noble now, what a guy. I hope we see him again.”

- The second and only other time I cried was because of Arin and Sora’s friendship backstory, and when they hugged again for the first time in ages. God damn the writers didn’t have to make their dynamic and friendship that amazing but they did. They are the definition of platonic love, together until the end. While it’s sad that Sora left with Arin and Ras, it actually makes me so happy that she chose friendship.

- ^^ And now to add on. It was obvious from the start that Ras was lying about Arin’s parents. His non specificity about their deaths cemented it for me, and what shocked me the most wasn’t Jay’s reveal. What shocked me was that Jay instantly knew exactly who the ninja were talking about when they mentioned Arin’s parents. Is his memory really good? (It would be ironic, I know) but if Jay was really managing that many people, for like 7 ish years, the idea that he remembered these people who mean nothing to him right away is so Jay of him.

- NOW FOR JAY. He was really awesome as Rogue. Bro was kind of a beast. He took so many damn hits, yet he was suddenly “really hurt” the minute he was offered a warm and safe place to rest (🥲). I doubt his reluctance to go with the ninja was real and not an act. I think he’s genuinely sad and lost, and then these kind people showed up and he doesn’t know how to react without claiming it’s weird. I’m excited for him to learn to be vulnerable again. That was kind of his whole thing before, wasn’t it?

- I need to know what happened to Zane’s actual body. Is it in the suit? Is it under maintenance somewhere else? Like hello?!?! Imagine transferring bodies and being that chill w/it. It will for sure be addressed (I think)

- I really like that Kai and Nya got so many moments together. They deserve to be with each other, and annoy each other to death after being separated for so long.

- For the people who got sidelined a lot- Wyldfyre and Cole - here is why I don’t mind it too much:

- Wyldfyre was given a boyfriend, and while they like each other a lot, I did think they needed more development. And development is what they’re getting. I also liked seeing Wyldfyre apply her lessons with Kai about remaining calm(ish) when things are looking bad.

- Cole, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen for most of the first half of s3. Why do I not care too much? Because they’re really trying to hammer in the fact that Cole is a family man now, with a responsibility to his husband (yes husband) and his kids. That’s my interpretation, and now I need the writers to commit to a lostshipping kiss :]

- “Well I think that wraps everything up. I’m glad that boss dragon was defeated, so anyways- Oh, is that Morro again? Cool, maybe he’ll get to see the ninja or- wait what’s happe- THAT DRAGON ATE MORRO? He FucKinG ATe hIM WHAT TJE FUCK YOU CANT END IT LIKE TJAT-“

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[kindaasrikal]

Whose to say the ninja would actually recognise a living, breathing Morro when they only knew him green, see through, and dead.

I highly doubt the whole green and see through thing made it easy to see all his facial features when you can also see a chair through him.

So i personally find it likely that Morro could just wear a baseball cap to hide the green streak, maybe some makeup if he still has his under eye markings or a green glowing scar like Cole’s, and just walk freely around Ninjago.

Like maybe Wu might recognise him, that was his first student after all and technically his kid, but the last time he saw a living Morro was decades ago and when he was ten, so.

But Morro might still get away with it seeing as Wu doesn’t seem like the type to be around Ninjago city often, so all he really has to deal with is the ninja and their friends.

He actively avoids Chen’s noodle house unless he’s feeling self destructive enough, he has to hide from Jay and Lloyd at the comic book store in the isle right next to theirs, he actually does frequent Dareth’s restaurant until he almost bumps straight into Nya, he goes no where near that large tower in the middle of the city (Borg tower) and instead frequents the library where he comes face to face with Zane, and when he runs off barely making it by he almost runs head first into Cole who just picked up some cake and was now meeting up with Zane.

If this was a fanfic, Cole and Zane would end up talking to a very reluctant Morro, somehow forcefully convince him for his number from a phone he magically got, and would be stuck with two ninja trying to interact with this guy name ‘roe’

[lyubovsdiary]

Confessions

a.aretas x best friend!reader

summary: your best friend armando has been by your side through every disappointing date, relationship and talking stage. but one fateful night he says something which will alter your friendship forever. the question is: will it be for better or for worse?

prompt: #2853 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

"I just want to fall in love!" She sobbed into her hands. "Why won't it happen?"

"What about the last person you saw?"

"I try. I actively try to like them.”

go check out their prompts if you’re interested, they’re amazing!!

a/n: jordan and cole are based off of my experiences with men, just with changed names. they made me lose hope in men. also the feelings of having to fit in and feeling like you’re always the problem when meeting someone new were were self-indulgent, as well as being kinda romantic to friends but then switching up, because it sadly is something i doe very often. anyways, enjoy!!

Turning the key in the lock of your apartment door, you walked in with hunched shoulders and a disappointed expression. The date you were on today had been disastrous. Justin, a guy you had met through a colleague, had been so boring, that you had to make up a bullshit excuse about your sister needing someone to drive her to a doctor’s appointment. You didn’t even have a sister.

Walking further into the apartment, you noticed Armando, your best friend for years, sitting lazily on your couch. He was in your apartment practically every day, so you weren’t too surprised to see him here. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon and evening with him sounded ten times better than spending even five minutes with Justin.

“Hey, how’d your date go? Any luck with this Jordan guy?” Armando asked between bites of what seemed to be your leftover lasagna.

“His name’s Justin, but no. How can someone talk about his first driving lesson which happened three years ago for forty-five minutes? Nothing happened! It was a completely normal experience, except for the fact that he still remembers the colour of the house he parked next to for the first time,” you ranted as you took off your purse and shoes and went to wash your hands. Once you were in the bathroom, you also changed into more comfortable home clothes. Armando wasn’t someone you felt like you had to dress up for. He complimented you even when your hair looked like it had never been touched by a brush.

Armando never made you feel ugly or as less than. No matter what you looked like, he always treated you the same, which was like a breath of fresh air, when you considered how the majority of the men you had met acted like. The sweet thing was that he also made sure to not only compliment your looks but your personality as well. You didn’t know how he kept finding things to point out, but it was amazing to have someone understand you like that. You had different reactions to his compliments. If it was about your appearance, you’d take it lightly and give him a kiss on the cheek in thanks. If it was about your character, you’d look at him with as much gratitude clear in your eyes and be physically close to him for the rest of the day, however long that may be.

“Was he the tarado that asked you not to wear leggings or joggers on the first date?” Armando asked while laughing.

You sat down next to him in the couch and put your head on his shoulder. You felt his arm going over your shoulders and your body instantly relaxed. Being in Armando’s vicinity always had this effect on you. All of your worries disappeared and you got to truly relax. You were lucky to have such a connection with your friend.

“No, that was Cole. Besides that part, he was actually really nice,” you sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I can’t make a relationship work.”

“It’s not your fault, mi querida. The men you go out with are the problem. Your taste is very…interesting,” Armando tried to soothe you. He also said something in Spanish, but only knew the basics of the language and some insults Armando taught you a couple years back. You just hoped the names he called you weren’t too nasty.

“It can’t be only their fault though. It takes two to make or break a relationship. And it seems that everyone but me has managed to do it. Happy couples, people in love are all around me, but I can never seem to be one of them. I just want to fall in love,” you groaned into your hands, which had come up to your face to hide your frustration. "Why won't it happen? Why can’t it be as easy as befriending people and feeling love for them?"

“What about your last boyfriend? You were in love with him, weren’t you?” Armando asked in a tone you couldn’t place.

Yet his words made you think of your ex, who you had had a complicated and difficult relationship with. Love wasn’t supposed to be complicated. It wasn’t supposed to make you overthink every word you said, it wasn’t supposed to make you change your personality to fit better into someone else’s life. A lover was supposed to love you despite and because of your flaws and not nitpick every single move of yours until you felt like a painting in a museum full of cruel critics.

But you had never shared those details with Armando. In fact, your ex had tried to isolate you from him and all your other friends, so to avoid any more fights, you had agreed with his ‘rules’.

Now you knew that what you had felt in your last relationship wasn’t love. It was desperation to fit in with your peers. Desperation to have finally found the most wonderful feeling a human being can experience: love. And while love and desparation do go hand in hand, it is important to remember their differences and base one’s behaviour off of that. That’s where you had messed up.

“No. I tried-I actively tried to like him and all the other guys I’ve gone out with, but it just doesn’t work. I either try too hard and seem too eager or I can’t force myself to care and lose interest before barely knowing more about the guy than what is needed in a police description,” you explained the conclusion you had come to while analysing your behaviour one sleepless night.

You then started tracing patterns on Armando’s arm while it served as a substitute for your sketchbook. Your hands needed to be occupied with a task or you’d be restless. “I also seem to always compare the guys to you, of all people. They either aren’t as charming, as funny or as pleasant to be around.”

Your words made Armando stiff as a board next to you. The reason why his evergrowing feelings never faltered or died out, was because you always said shit like that. One moment you could be making fun of every single part of Armando’s existence and in the next you’d be telling him how his presence alone makes you feel at home.

But it wasn’t just your words that rattled Armando. The gentle feeling of your soft fingers imitating drawing on his skin made the familiar warm feeling in his chest bubble up again and caused his brain to short-circuit. Armando loved feeling like your personal canvas, taking whatever you had to offer without complaints.

It was up ahead in his all-time favourite things to ever happen along with the cuddling you enjoyed so much. Every year when winter came around, Armando was almost giddy at the thought of you positioning your body as close to his as humanly possible, because you got cold quickly and he ran hot.

Still, it was all becoming too much all at once. Armando’s unwavering feelings towards you, your careless behaviour towards him, making him think he may actually have a shot, when he just doesn’t know anymore. You were the first person in a long time to make him feel unconditionally loved, but then you went ahead and went on a date with another man. You told him how no one could ever take his place in your life and then told him how he was the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

That was what frustrated Armando the most. He didn’t just want to be your friend anymore. He wasn’t sure that he had ever wanted that. Armando wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to sleep wrapped around you every night. As a matter of fact he wanted to be around you every second of every day, spending as much time together as their lifestyles allowed. Armando wanted to talk and talk and talk with you, getting to know every single one of your most intimate thoughts, opinions and memories. He wanted to know you better than he knew himself. Your soul was already a big part of his own, but he wanted them to be connected so fiercely that nothing could break them apart.

Armando knew that the change from a friendship to a relationship wouldn’t be that drastic, after all, the two are pretty similar, at least in your case. But he still wanted the feeling of belonging which came with a relationship. The knowledge that you were his and he was yours. It was not only a guarantee for him that you would never leave, but also a sign to others that you were taken now. No one would allow himself to come near you if they knew you were with him.

Due to his confusing thoughts and conflicting thoughts, he couldn’t control his tongue very well. “Be with me then,” he tried to joke, but it came out wrong. It sounded more like a plea, begging to be taken seriously. As soon as the words were out, Armando froze. The fear that this would make him lose you hit him at full force. As hard as he tried to play it off, he just couldn’t be the non-caring, hardly fazed person he was around others, when he was around you. Everything about you made Armando’s resolve crumble and his heart melt.

Your laugh died in your throat as Armando jumped up and went to the conjoined kitchen of your apartment. You quickly went after him, noticing the change in his behaviour.

“Wait- Were you serious?” you asked him unbelievingly. You had never seen Armando like this before. He was usually an excellent liar and great ar improvisation, something which combined with your flirting skills made you two able to get out of every type of trouble.

Right now though, Armando was fiddling with the glass in his hands which he was trying to fill with water.

“No, no, of course not,” he said. He sounded defeated and you didn’t want your favourite person to feel like that, especially because of something you said.

“Armando, tell me what’s wrong. I promise you, I’m gonna be here and listen no matter what. You’re my best friend, you can tell me anything,” you told him, trying to get the truth out of him. You meant every word of what you said, but you weren’t sure if Armando was going to believe them and/or actually listen.

As if to prove your point, the man before you rolled his eyes and turned away from you.

“You can’t help me with this, maravillosa niña. I appreciate the thought, really. But mi amor para ti isn’t exactly something I can talk to you about,” Armando remarked wistfully. His hands were grasping the glass so hard, his knuckles were white. This only made you worry more, since Armando was usually pretty laid-back.

“Armando, I promise you, you can. There’s nothing you could tell me that would change anything between us. I know you. I know you have a good heart, as hard as you try to convince others that it isn’t true. So whatever is on your mind and affecting you this bad, I promise you can share it with me, so you’re at least not the only one carrying its burden,” you expressed, conveying as much love as you could in your words. Armando was very important to you and you made sure to tell him that in different forms every once in a while.

“You ask what’s affecting me? ¿No es obvio? You are. The fact that I crave your company when you’re not around, the fact that I want to be the first person you call when anything happens or when you just want to talk! You have made me addicted to you and it’s not an addiction one can ever overcome. I love you. Every cell in my body yearns for your touch, every thought in my mind is devoted to you. llevo años volviéndome loco,” Armando finally blurted out. He hadn’t meant to confess his feelings for you in this way. He actually hadn’t meant to confess them at all, but they had just come out.

Armando’s words stunned you into silence. You had truly never expected to hear these words, but after overcoming the initial shock, there was something like … relief flooding your veins and takings its place right between your ribs. Armando was an amazing person who you admired deeply. The fact that he loved you made you feel happy in a very specific way.

Your mind was running a thousand miles an hour, processing every word Armando had said. If you imagined those words coming out of one of your other friend’s mouth, you wouldn’t be as overjoyed as you are right now. You would be flattered, but not excited as you were right now.

Which led you to only one conclusion.

Darting forward, you wrapped your arms around Armando. One went to his face and cupped his cheek while the other went to his side. You spared a quick look to his eyes, finding confusion, hope and lust in them, but then focused on his lips. They were just as beautiful as every other part of him, now also slightly parted as his soft breaths were hitting your collarbone.

‘Fuck it,’ you thought and connected your lips to his. He immediately kissed back and you could feel his hands coming up to your waist to hold you even closer. You moved your hand from his cheek to his hair and buried it in his soft curls. The two of you stood there intertwined for a long time, lips moving in a steady rhythm, until you broke the kiss to get some air.

“Was that okay?” you gasped out, trying to put air in your lungs again. The grin you sent in Armando’s direction earned you a crooked smile.

“Perfect,” was the only warning you got before his lips crashed against yours once more.

Smiling while your lips were still pressed together, you mumbled out a “Told you I could help.” and resumed making out with your handsome best friend.

Translations:

tarado - moron

mi querida - my dearest

maravillosa niña - wonderful girl

mi amor para ti - my love for you

¿No es obvio? - Isn’t it obvious?

llevo años volviéndome loco - I’ve been going crazy for years

[sha-brytols]

see i think he's right in that there is no actual discernable line between Anders and Justice but i think it's a little bit more complex than that because. well obviously we see moments where justice just straight up takes control of anders body like in the fade or the quest with ser alrik or his rivalry path. but i also feel like a lot of the things anders says and does is not entirely just him. like.

okay so justice has a very distinctive style of speech. very verbose. rarely (if ever) uses contractions. has a very declarative style and frequently speaks in terms of absolutes. "It was your condemnation of their race that led to your folly" and "This is a mortal body of flesh! I am trapped within!" it's a very similar, albeit less poetic, manner of speech to that of cole's. their mannerisms are very reminiscent of someone whose grasp of communication is limited to the abstract (if that makes sense.?) so their speech feels unique in that it's more visceral and conveys a certain Feeling in the player. while cole's is more flowery and evocative, justice's speech is direct and forceful.

and as we know anders in awakening, he talks more casually, much more carefree, upbeat, very informal and uses more colloquialisms in his speech. "Erm... i didn't do it?" and "Whoa. She's talking to me. Voluntarily." he's literally the most unserious man in the world and honestly talks more like the class clown from your college frat party than a fantasy wizard.

i think this is most apparent when you see him and justice talking to each other:

justice is very no-nonsense and straightforward and really super does not fucking appreciate anders' cheeky attitude, while anders is borderline obnoxious and seems to enjoy being a smartass for the fun of it.

so like. in da2 we know that for the Most part, the smarm and glibness has been very toned down and anders is now more somber and subdued. he's also become more romantic (both in the literal sense as well as in the literary sense) and idealistic. he seems to have settled in a middle ground between polite and familiar and his tone is less playful and more earnest. he's also become a lot more respectful with how he talks about religion, compared to how he casually wonders if andraste was actually ugly or something in awakening (interesting thing to note: we know for a fact that justice actually believes in the maker and also has a deep respect for mortal faith)

so my personal interpretation of the justice/anders dynamic is that they kind of exist on a spectrum of sorts. one side being "mostly anders" and the other side being "mostly justice" with his default state being right smack in the middle. something that immediately stuck with me when i got it was anders' reaction in aveline's act 2 quest

maybe i'm insane and overthinking it but. this is just such a fucking abnormal response to a cute goofy "oh no how do i get this guy to like me?!" conversation that i can't not immediately think. hi justice.

her banter i think also provides a pretty perfect example of this

hi justice ^_^

hi anders ^_^

so my interpretation has always been that like. while i do believe for the most part they are genuinely "one" as anders claims, it's pretty clear to me that there is still a small divide between them, but it's more like in the way purple is always a mix of red and blue, but sometimes purple is more blue than red. and sometimes it's more red than blue. they aren't entirely separate from one another, but you can clearly see which is the strongest at any given time.

am i making sense. is anyone here. can you hear me. hello

[gods-special-little-lobotomite]

WHAT IVE LEARNED ABOUT JRWI PRIME DEFENDERS THROUGH OSMOSIS

WILLIAM WISP:

he died badly but got better

he has danny phantom powers

he gets vivisected at one point?? this might have been someone in the fandom making a top surgery joke im not sure

he's killed at least one person. possibly more

he goes to hell and meets the devil

VYNCENT SOL:

an elf? from elf world??

elf world is real and called prime. and thats where he comes from

he wears a shirt that says KNIFE and has KNIFE related powers. im thinking like number two from umbrella academy

i have yet to see a piece of art where hes not being shipped with either william or ashe. whats his deal

DAKOTA COLE:

grizzly pc

canonically white i think but nobody draws him white

canonically skinny i think but nobody draws him skinny

beats people up "cole style"

worlds biggest weeb

capable of turning people who like men into squares

possibly capable of turning people of other sexual orientations into other geometric shapes

ASHE WINTERS

i thought she was a girl for the longest time

people kept saying how trans girl coded she was and i took that to mean wow this cis girl character yakko plays is so trans girl coded

apparently ashe winters is canonically a cis dude. insane 2 me personally

possessed by an evil little freak called the trickster

i thought yakko was trans too. thats not related

LE FROG

honestly the main factor in me wanting to listen to pd

lameass french guy in a frog suit

actually i dont think hes even french i think he just does the accent for funsies

powers include: jumping high?? enjoying stinky cheeses???

he gets a sidekick named le tadpole at some point with cooler powers than his

i dont know what the actual plot of pd is every piece of fanart ive seen is just putting these guys in situations and drawing william wisp in tshirts with werewolves on them

[oldwritingm]

Hey can we get the Ninjas with an S/O who's basically Jessica rabbit and how they would deal with people constantly hitting on their S/O?

Of course my dear!! Unrelated but I love Jessica Rabbit,,,

Ninjago - Ninjas With an s/o Who Gets Flited With a Lot

Kai

When he first sees someone flirting with you, his initial reaction is a sort of pride

He's happy that other people are noticing how smoking hot his s/o is

But that only lasts for half a second; then comes the jealousy

He hops up and tries to look casual while he saunters over and wraps an arm around your waist

He'll stare coldly at the person flirting with you, trying to intimidate them

When it doesn't work he uses his voice, trying to show the person that they're not welcome

"And just who are you again?"

He'll only get more passive aggressive as the interaction goes on

There have been times that he's escalated it to straight-up aggression, and even violence, at which point you had to take it upon yourself to remove you both from the situation

You'll have to talk to him while he cools down, letting him vent about how angry the person was making him

In the end he knows it's not your fault and that you'd never leave him

Still, reassuring him on that front would probably help him calm down

He's just mad that some scumbag thought they could take you from him

After such an instance he usually sticks close to you, making sure to keep a hand on you to demonstrate that you're together

Cole

He doesn't really care when people flirt with you

He knows that it's only natural; you're the most gorgeous person in the world to him (and others, evidently)

He trusts that you'll be loyal and that you can handle yourself

But he still keeps an eye on you when out in public

He's watching to see if you're uncomfortable and need help; only then will he step in

He knows all your tells, but you guys also have a secret hand gesture that means you need help

So, when he sees the gesture, or any body language signaling that you're uncomfortable, he jumps into action

He sidles up to your side, placing himself as close as possible to you

He'll try to be at least somewhat pleasant at first: just emphasizing that you guys are dating, hoping to put the person off

But if that doesn't work he'll be more blunt

"Dude. You're being creepy. Get lost."

When they finally leave, he checks to make sure you're okay

Your well-being is much more important to him than any doubts he might have about your relationship

Not that he has any; he's fully confident that your relationship is strong

But if he did he'd still put you first

If you want him to be your body guard for the rest of the night, he'll happily oblige

(and he makes a pretty good guard, too, being so huge and intimidating (when he wants to be))

Jay

He HATES when people flirt with you

Like, he knows why; you're obviously always the most attractive person in the room

But you're his s/o! Other people shouldn't be flirting with you!

Sometimes he wishes that you could just wear a big sign that says "I'm taken"

(He has actually asked you to do this before)

The second he sees someone talking to you, he's already inching closer to see what's up

Even if they're not being outright flirty, he's still suspicious of them

He'll keep getting closer, not bothering to be sneaky at all

This often has the unintentional effect of the person leaving before he even gets within talking range

They just get creeped out that this guy is glaring at them while slowly yet steadily approaching

If they don't get scared off, he wraps an arm around you and intensifies his glare

He'll insert himself into the conversation crudely, speaking directly to you and "ignoring" the other person

"Hey, babe. Ready to go back to our shared apartment? Where we live together because we're partners?"

Then the person usually takes the hint, but by then they're probably more amused than annoyed

When they're finally gone Jay still watches them, still glaring

He's a little insecure that you'll leave him, just because you're so stunning (and, admittedly, sometimes the people flirting with you are, too)

He'll need lots of reassurance that he's good enough for you :(

Zane

Out of all the ninjas, Zane is the most bothered when people flirt with you

He knows he's not the best when it comes to romance, so he feels like every time someone flirts with you he's instantly being one-upped

It makes him more sad and insecure than anything

He knows that you're loyal to him, so he's not jealous

But he doesn't know why you're so adamant to stay with him, especially when someone flirts with you

He just frowns while he listens to their clever pick up lines, sometimes not even understanding them

It makes him feel a little better when you frown, too

When you send him the "a little help here?" look, though, that's when his heart skips a beat

It's his chance to show why he's the one you chose

He balks for half a second, but quickly gathers the courage to insert himself into the interaction

He places himself at your side, standing like a perfect gentleman and even smiling faintly (despite the fact that he feels a little inferior to the flirter)

Then it's your cue to emphasize what a gentleman he is, and how disinterested you are in everyone else

"This is my boyfriend, Zane. He's always so respectful in. Just look at how he's standing! Never gets all handsy or flirty in public, either."

Zane just nods, his smile growing along with his confidence

He needs to hear those words about as much as his "competitor" does

Once they're gone, he feels much more confident about himself and why you want to be with him :)

Lloyd

Lloyd respects you immensely; he knows you're loyal, honorable, brave... and most of all, drop-dead gorgeous

It's that last thing that worries him a little

Not because it makes him question your other merits; not at all

It makes him more conscious about others' merits (or rather, lack of)

He doesn't trust people to be respectful to you

He tries his best not to hover when you're in public, but he does get a touch anxious if you don't check in every now and again

Especially if you're the type to get uncomfortable when someone flirts with you

He tries to prevent flirting from happening in the first place, but sometimes it just can't be helped

The second he sees someone flirting with you, anxiety strikes

He knows how... inappropriate flirting can get, and just the thought makes him blush

He doesn't want you to be subject to that

So he'll hurry to your side, turning the situation away from romance

He won't be nasty or try to scare the person off, he'll just redirect the conversation

"Hey, how about that game last night? The, uh... sports... game..."

He's trying 😭

He doesn't want to disrespect this person (even though they're low-key disrespecting you)

When they're gone he'll double-check to make sure they didn't make you uncomfortable or anything

As long as you're good, he's good :) until someone else comes up

Nya

She also gets flirted with a lot, especially operating in a team of all boys

So she knows the struggle, and she's fully equipped to help you out

She'll teach you the tricks she's learned to scare off creeps, but of course she's also always more than happy to step in

You guys have a complete code language of phrases and gestures that mean things ranging from "creep o'clock, be on guard" to "I'm good, are you?" to "please save me"

To give an example: if you're both in a conversation and someone is starting to seem like they have bad intentions, you can say "I saw a snake a while ago," which means "potential creep right here. thoughts?"

Responses include: "so did I," ("yep, let's ditch") or "no, it was a rubber hose, remember?" ("let's stick around a little longer")

It's a very intricate language that only expands over time

You guys actually have a lot of fun making and using it

And it's obviously quite useful

But in terms of jealousy, since Nya knows what it's like to be harassed, she knows it's not a challenge to one's loyalty

She totally trusts you, and expects you to feel the same

But sometimes when she just really doesn't like someone, she'll put a protective arm around you and make it obvious that you're hers

When they're finally gone, you guys either giggle about it or watch them leave with scowls; either way you make sure to check in on each other first

In general, though, you guys learn to have fun expelling unwarranted advances; it's almost like a fun little game you play together :]

Thank you for this request! And thanks for reading, take care sweet duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[mitsy-thesheetghost]

Guys idk if the ninjago Fandom is still alive on here but if it is I need your help.

Okay so I can't write for shit but I can give so many ideas. These two are my favorite ship I live laugh love lava and I have so many ideas for cute little like at least oneshots or like parts that can just be added to fics. So let me give you guys my ideas and if you know of any fics with these ideas or if anyone writes fics based around my ideas (I don't need the credit unless you want to give it to me idc) please please please tell me or something like comments tag me idc I love them and I need more of them.

Apologies for my god awful grammar and all that. I suck at it just be glad I used periods. I don't when I text people rip my friends.

Okay so here are my ideas!

1. Okays so I don't think Kai can handle the cold like at all. I mean he's the elemental master of fire so he's gotta be warm just strictly based off his element. So hear me out. Idk how exactly you wanna do it or if there's even actual seasons in ninjago (because we don't really ever see any we see like rain and different parts on ninjago have different climates) but like either they're in a place with snow or it's just like snowing where they live and Kai can't do it. He's freezing but he tries to act all tough and strong but his fingers are going numb. Anyways poor boy can't do it and so Cole decides to warm him up. Like I have a couple ideas for that. So if they're out in an area with snow like not the Monastery and hypothetically they're like camping out for the night they just cuddle together under a blanket. Or like if they're at the Monastery and it's too cold for Kai Cole would like make him hot chocolate or something. (Yea ik the whole bit is that Cole can't cook but how badly can one mess up hot chocolate??) But they'd drink hot chocolate together and cuddle.

2. Okay so in my brain the ninja are all close with each other. Like that obvious but like specifically Cole and Kai. They're stupid and in love with each other but don't know it. (Stupid love trope idc it's cute fight me.) Everyone else knows and they're trying to get them together but the duo are just like "no he doesn't like me I don't want to make things weird." But like Kai and Cole are so much closer emotionally and physically than they are with the rest of the team. They're always leaning on each other or hugging. All because they both like each other but are too stupid to realize the feelings are mutual. (This one has probably been done before but idc if you have fic recommendations pleaseeee.)

3. The next one is in a way partly based off the first one (Kai not handling the cold). So basically it starts with Cole letting Kai borrow a hoodie or something because he's freezing but then it turns into Kai just stealing Cole's clothes constantly. Like they could be dating but I think it would he funnier if they weren't (yet). So Kai would just be sitting on the couch playing games with Jay or someone and Cole would walk in and see Kai in one of his shirts and he'd just kinda stare before going "Dude is that my shirt?" Kai would just shrug and be like "yea it's comfy." And go back to the game. Secretly Kai just like wearing Cole's clothes because they smell like Cole.

4. Okay so we all know Cole loves cake right? (Omg first one more based around Cole?? Crazy! (Sorry Cole love you king Kai is just my favorite)) But from what I remember (I don't fully remember the original seasons. There's a lot of seasons and they're still making more there's so much to remember.) Cole doesn't always like to share his cake. (Listen I could he very wrong and I'm sorry if I am but go with me here.) Which is so valid because me too. Anyways Cole doesn't always like sharing his cake but whenever he likes a person enough he will. And Kai just so happens to be that lucky person. Unfortunately for Cole and Kai (headcanon time sorry guys) Kai doesn't really care for cake. Like sure it's not bad he just wouldn't eat it a lot. I have this headcanon because of this one fic on ao3 called A Burning Heart by Theseus_Katsuki. (Its a rewrite of the seasons and it's really good. Oh and there's lava sooo.) Anyways in the fic they tall about how Kai raised Nya and how they couldn't really afford sweets and stuff like that so Kai never really got to eat cake so he didn't really see the hype. I really like that idea so I'm adding it to my headcanons thank you pookie! Okay so anyways Cole really wants to share cake with Kai because he likes Kai and trusts him but Kai isn't a big fan of cake but he eats it anyways just because he loves seeing Cole's smile it gives him butterflies.

5. Cole has nightmares! Nightmares about a couple different things. So here's the small list of things I think he would have nightmares from: So obviously losing or disappointing his mom (Rip Lilly Brookstone we miss you queen). Like his mom seems to be his inspiration and the reason he fights and protects people. She told him to stand up for people and he is dammit. Another one would be being stuck at that preforming arts school doing something he didn't enjoy for the rest of his life. He didn't want to be a dancer. But his dad wanted him to be. He was going to do it for his dad but he couldn't stand. So he has nightmares about being stuck there. Another one would be getting turned back into a ghost. I refuse to believe he took being a ghost well. And I think he might be a little nervous around water now. Not like how Kai was (no I still think he is especially after Seabound). But just because that's ghosts whole big weakness. Plus he was legit see through and couldn't hold things. He could barely use his powers half the time. I just like think he would have nightmares of being a ghost again and his friends slowly forgetting him.

6 (part 1). Angst time! It's not bad just like them crying and being sad. Okay so Kai doesn't cry. We've seen in season 11 that when Kai has strong emotions it just makes his power stronger. He doesn't handle emotions well. He's got anger issues and he's over protective of everyone on the team but especially Nya and Lloyd (RGB siblings I love you so much!) So in one of the random times that specifically one of those two get hurt or kidnapped or something big happens (*cough* looking at you seabound *cough*) he will shut himself off from everyone else in order to not snap on them. Kai raised Nya you can't convince me otherwise. Their parents left when they were 3 (Nya) and 5 (Kai). He wasn't taught how to handle his emotions. So he blocks them out because he couldn't just sit around and be sad. He had to step up to take care of Nya. But anyways. Kai will shut everyone out or he will go crazy on "training" in all actuality he's just trying to get his emotions out in the only way he knows how. Cole hates this. He hates seeing Kai this upset and now being able to do anything. (This can be platonic or romantic idc i just love them.) And Cole feels like he needs to help. Jay and Kai are close sure but they're not going to sit and cry together (well maybe because of seabound). Zane (love him dearly) still isnt great with emotions. That's not his fault. And with Lloyd that's his little brother if Kai refuses to cry in front of Nya do you really think he'll cry infront of Lloyd? No of course he won't. So that means Cole is left. Cole wants to help so badly but Kai won't let him in. Kai yells at him to go away and walks off but Cole will talk to him in his gentle tone and try to get him to calm down at least a little bit so Kai's not yelling. Kai will try to walk away again and Cole will stop him by grabbing his wrist and pulling him against his chest and just holding Kai there. (Another trope I know. Fight me) Kai will eventually break down in Cole's arms and cry and tell him everything that has been building up.

6 (part 2). Angst but Cole's version. Cole's a crier but only when he's comfortable with someone. That someone is Kai. The amount of times after the end of rebooted (The Titanium Ninja episode) that Cole cried is Kai's arms. Cole and Zane have like a special relationship (I'm a glacier enjoyer as well and a bruise and well a lot of Cole's ships besides like ones with Lloyd and Nya) but it's platonic. (At least in this set up. Listen I wont hate on you for shipping them because me too but I'm just a really big lava enjoyer and a really big Pixal and Zane enjoyer.) They're basically best friends. (Yes I know Cole and Jay call each other best friends but I'd argue that Cole is close with most of the ninja.) At least in the early season like 1-4. Anywaysss he sobbed like ugly sobbed over losing his best friend for days. (As he should because I ugly sobbed when I was younger when I watched that episode and Zane isn't even my favorite.) And Kai was always there. He would hold him and let him cry and run his fingers through his hair and whisper soft words telling him is going okay and it's okay to cry. Kai had to learn how to help other people deal with their emotions because he raised Nya but he never really figured out dealing with his own.

I might leave it there if you guys want more let me know!!

[snaggletoothedbastard]

I've seen a couple of people complaining that the Captain didn't get a Coming Out Scene so that means it's Bad Rep, and I think they're missing the point a bit.

Like, sure, it would have been nice to see him finally come out but also, he doesn't have to? Personally I think it's amazing that ThemThere managed to create a character who isn't openly gay but is so obviously gay that we all just know without him having to say it. It's clear that they put a lot of thought and care into all the signs - the way he looks at the guys he has crushes on, the little offhand comments about Mike making a very fine soldier or the builder being handsome, the references to queer culture (Dorothy, Elton John, Cole Porter etc). They didn't half-ass this. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they were careful and subtle about it.

Also, we know the Captain's personality by now, right? He only talks openly about personal matters when he feels it's absolutely necessary, like when he's explaining about the bomb in "Redding Weddy" and explaining how he died in "Carpe Diem", and he doesn't seem particularly comfortable in either of these instances. He was alive in a time when he either wasn't allowed or didn't feel that he could be open about who he was, and seeing as he's sort of stuck in that time, what with him still acting like the war's continuing, he's obviously still heavily repressed. And it's in character. It makes sense for him to still be closeted. And of course, throughout the show he does gradually learn to relax and open up a bit, but he's not a fan of change anyway so it also makes sense that it takes a while for him to do that. As shown in "Gone Gone" after Mary moves on, he'd rather keep himself busy than talk about feelings.

And this is more a personal preference here, but I really really love seeing a gay character who isn't out. Now this doesn't mean I don't like openly gay characters, I love them too. But we see quite a lot of them, and it's just nice to have something a bit different. The Captain means so much to me as representation because while he's not openly gay, it's still very clear that he is gay. He's not a queerbait character, because they haven't hinted that he's gay and then revealed that he's actually straight. They've purposefully made the Captain gay, and there's barely any ambiguity, so even though he never says, "I'm gay," you'd have to be a fool to think he's anything but.

Queer people don't suddenly become queer when they come out. Just saying the words, "I'm gay," doesn't make someone gay. Being gay makes someone gay. That's it.

And the Captain is gay. That's it.