#I highly doubt this will appear in the tags; as usual

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 6)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

-

Megumi raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "What's going on?”

Without a doubt, they had raised Megumi to be better than them, more skilled, stronger, and way more, smarter...

“What’s going on where?” Gojo feigned innocence, cocking his head to the side slightly. “I don’t-”

“-Sure, you do, Satoru.” Megumi was quick to interrupt holding the same eyebrow up. 

“Dad, you are supposed to call me Dad or Daddy, how many timed do I have to ask you, Megumi.” Gojo teased, hiding his nervousness behind fake annoyance, all his efforts put on gaining a few more minutes. 

Megumi growled in annoyance at the old act his adoptive father used to play when he wanted to get his attention. Since he was little, was always the same fight with Satoru Gojo-... the young adult swallowed his annoyance and instead tried to go downstairs to get you, only to find himself flanked by Gojo, but this time by his broad body getting strategically on the way.

"Why are you blocking my way?" Megumi asked without patience, and Gojo snickered, lamely.

"Am I?" chuckled out the special grade sorcerer awkwardly, "...you misunderstand me, my child, I-I…I just want a kiss on the cheek from my Gumi-"

"NO!" Megumi’s voice raised, cheeks coloring with embarrassment, and Gojo saw it as his chance to take advantage of his obvious discomfort to get closer, to block his path better, to buy more time for you to come back from that mind-blowing orgasm he had just given you, all disguised behind his typical and characteristic needy self, finally his spoiled personality will serve someone else’s than him. "Come on, Gumi. Give Daddy a goodnight kiss-"

"...You're crazy, I'm not a child anymore... stay away!" Megumi grunted, pressing his strong palm on Satoru’s face who kept insisting on invading his personal space, lips raised, pouting like a fool who was ready to steal that embarrassing kiss. "Stop it, Satoru!"

"Satoru, leave him alone, he didn't even want to kiss you as a child... now that he's older, even less so." Both struggling sorcerers heard Geto say with an amused chuckle right next to them.

Satoru pouted throwing a tantrum but internally highly relieved, if Geto was there that meant that you...

"Satoru-sensei, if you're going to be harassing us like that, I'd better go," your voice made its appearance, that hint of tiredness and shortness of breath disguised behind false irritation.

"(Y/N)," Megumi sounded surprised, his cheeks exploding at being caught in such an awkward domestic scenario and forcing himself to use all his strength pushed Gojo off him.

"How mean are my favorite students with their poor sensei," Gojo complained, putting a hand against his chest to feign indignation, "...if I didn't know that I was your favorite professor, I'd be offended-"

"You're not our favorite professor." Megumi answered mercilessly, and you supported him, only to fall once again into the usual protocol, a protocol that would chase away any suspicion from Megumi's mind of what was really happening between you and his parents.

"Nanami is our favorite." You delivered the final thrust, and Gojo's shoulders drooped comically, Suguru laughing at the comical outcome.

From where he stood, the curse-eater could see from the corner of his eye that slight tremor that accompanied your knees, the way the muscles in your thighs continued to have involuntary spasms, your pretty hands squeezing your uniform shirt to catch your breath and summoning all your strength to keep you upright when the only thing you wanted at that moment was to collapse and rest.

That orgasm had been way too intense, it was the longest minute of your life, you had never cum so fast and so hard, every nerve felt on fire, your sensei had ripped every ounce of strength from your body, and you could only think about now was sleep.

"-It's late, maybe we should go rest, Megumi."

You suggested quickly, hoping that you could catch your breath in the arms of Morpheus, clean the saliva that covered your thighs and pussy, and sleep under Megumi's sweet and safe company.

Megumi nodded, handing the briefing to Satoru and offering you his hand, which you took without hesitation to let him guide you up to his room.

"Leave the door open," Suguru commented a little too firmly, and immediately regretted his involuntary spurt of unnecessary jealousy.

"We are not children anymore, Suguru-san. Good night." Was Megumi's final response.

Gojo and Suguru were reduced to wishing you goodnight, there was nothing else they could do, they had to control themselves no matter how much what was happening bothered them.

"G-Good night, Suguru-san, Satoru-san." You said and both softened their voices to respond.

"Good night, (Y/N)."

"Sleep well, little one."

A growl was the last thing that was heard before the door to Megumi's room was closed and the latch put on, you were now inside the room of their adopted son, and they couldn't feel more uneasy.

-

No matter how much you insisted, Megumi wouldn't let you sleep on the futon on the floor, giving you his bed instead.

"I don't mind, (Y/N). I prefer that tomorrow you are at your best for the mission." He had said without letting you protest, getting into the futon and watching you from below as you climbed onto her bed and snuggled against her pillow. 

“Thank you, Gumi.” 

Were the last words you directed at him making him smile timidly before darkness reigned in the room as did silence, only a ray of moonlight subtly illuminating one part of the room until Megumi's eyes became accustomed to the shadows.

How he wanted to be in that same bed with you, his arms around you, your face against his chest, your warm breath against his skin.... he had to stop thinking about it or he couldn't control himself. 

Megumi closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, and his cheeks flushed when he opened his eyes again and found you looking at him from the edge of her mattress. A mischievous smile kidnapped your lips, and you couldn’t stop to tease him.

"What were you thinking, Megumi Fushiguro?" you asked him in a not-so-innocent whisper, "your cheeks are red, and you look agitated..." you continued, ignoring how uncomfortable he looked, "tell me, best friends don't keep secrets from each other."

Megumi gulped and you could see the abrupt movement of his Adam's apple.

"-Nothing interesting," the black-haired man answered, looking away.

"Liar,” you accused, “don't you trust me?" you asked him and this time, his mouth opened without his permission, letting out his biggest insecurity.

"Trust? How dare you-” he cut himself mid-speech and instead, asked. “... You like older men?"

"Older men?" you repeated dazedly.

The question was out there with all its implications and silence reigned once again in the room, "I know I declared my feelings to you this morning but-" Megumi steeled himself, "-but I need to know if you prefer them... "

Megumi's heart beat a mile a minute. You're smart, he doesn't need to say more for you to know who he's referring to. He's not stupid, he's not easy to fool... of course, he noticed the traces of sweat covering your face, your rosy cheeks and your shortness of breath, combined with Satoru's needy attitude so suddenly, something was happening and even though he refused with fervent stubbornness to believe that you could have an affair with his guardians... he needed to say it out loud and hear you deny it out loud. Megumi wants you for himself, you are soulmates. Satoru and Suguru already have each other, it's only fair that they let him have you.

Your silence felt like a hot knife piercing his beating heart, that heart that for years has only beaten for you, for your attention, for your affection.

Megumi sighed heavily, and this time it was anger at your cowardice that made him insist.

"Who do you prefer? Satoru or Suguru?" this time his question dripped venom, "Despite their age, both are still very popular with-"

"I prefer you." Your sudden confession stopped him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Don't just tell me what I want to hear, (Y/N)-"

His stubborn mouth was silenced as your soft lips claimed it. Slowly he felt you crawling from the safety of the bed towards his dangerous futon, where he would no longer be or want to be the kind boy who only held your hand timidly.

Your tongue pushed its way between his lips and Megumi's crotch woke up, firm and throbbing against his pajama pants. His hips stuttering up against your warm, covered core, he doesn't want to force you into anything you don't want but he's not in control anymore.

"...Are you sure?" Megumi forced himself to ask and immediately scolded himself for fear of a refusal, but you grinned against his mouth and your tongue licked his lips before asking.

"You do not want?"

Megumi nodded, "I want, I want you more than I need air." The black-haired man declared fervently, "...I just want you to-"

"I want to, Megumi." You voiced out and he shuddered with excitement, "I want you to do to me everything you've been planning for almost two years-"

"Three years, hun." Megumi revealed, stealing little pecks from your panting lips, "Three agonizing years, I've loved you since you set foot in school-"

"Then don't hold back, Megumi." And that was all the permission the young adult needed to let go.

His head shifted to the side finding refuge in the hollow of your neck. Slightly parted lips pressing too insistently against the tender skin as he bathed it in warm, elaborated breaths. 

“You had your chance.” Megumi warned and soon, there was nothing innocent or gentle about the way his lips moved against yours, or his hands slipped under your pajamas, or the way he gets rid of those cumbersome layers of clothes.

This boy’s actions were fierce and desperate, could feel the heat radiating with each touch, each movement was devastatingly daring and conceived just to drive you to the edge and let you rush into the abyss of his very soul. It was the true essence of a greedy man who had been asleep for far too long under layers of control. Each layer had been ripped apart by your acceptance of his feelings and now only the raw man remained, wide awake and hungry.

You felt at his mercy, more precisely, like his willing prey. 

Megumi grew too enamored with the plush curve of your hips and all restriction flew away from his rational grasp.

“Fuck-…. Do your very best not to scream, baby.” 

COMING SOON PART 7....

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER.

[sgrplumditz]

Simon falls for Johnny’s wife…

render by @ave661

a/n: I’ve been working on this for a hot minute, but ended up having it sit in my drafts for a couple months :(. these images were released and it definitely struck a chord in my delulu mind. hence why i decided to finish it..

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"I've got a bad feeling about this one, Johnny," she said to the Scott with a shaky breath. Their toddler clinging to his mother's leg while keeping a tight grip on his father's finger. His little hand too small to grip the entirety of his hand.

She couldn’t help but notice his worrisome sigh as he looked for the comforting words, "Eh, don't you worry, Darling. I always come back don't I?" he replied enthusiastically as he embraced her figure, his chin resting on the top of her head and his free hand caressing the back of his son’s head. Johnny always knew how to comfort her, but she couldn’t shake her nervousness and doubtful thoughts as he said goodbye to her husband and the father of her only child.

The memory of their final interaction as a family replayed in her head continuously as the rain created soft tapping noises on her black umbrella. The pattering of the water creating an almost hypnotizing effect on the new widow that kept her mind on the only aspect that was left of her late husband -- memories.

The toddler, a three-year-old boy, who like most of the time clung to his mother's body. Except this time he was fully embracing his mother, his little face placed into the crook of her neck as the pair stood together at the outdoor memorial service. She could only stare blankly at the urn that held the remains of the love of her life. Through her observant stare she took note of the simple, yet lovely set up of white roses, numerous awards and medals. All of which surrounded a framed photo of her Johnny — her favorite photo. A candid picture snapped of the blue eyed, dark haired man by his wife — the woman he kept a secret from his work life. Not out of shame, or malicious secrecy — Johnny loved his wife and his child. Love them so much that he couldn’t be bothered ever putting them in any sort of danger.

She could feel numerous pairs of eyes prying into her and her son as she stood amongst the medium sized crowd of individuals. She assumed all of them were teammates, Co-workers, or people simply paying their respects. she knew he was a highly decorated soldier, but he was far more than that. None of them knew about his personal life, and nobody knew about the widow and small boy he had left behind. Nobody but Captain John Price knew about Soap’s little family. In confidence, Soap had asked Price to maintain word of his wife and son under the rug of the sake of their safety. Although they were hidden, he always carried pieces of them with him wherever he went — attached to his dog tags were two small and silver flat pendants that had been engraved with his wife and son’s fingerprint, his wedding band usually accompanying them on the same chain whenever he was deployed.

When Johnny was home he never removed his ring. He would often complain about how difficult and stubborn the piece of jewelry was when it came time to remove it for work. Johnny thought he was as discrete as he could be when it came to protecting the two most important people in his life, but there was a certain masked individual who took notice of the tan line that marked his left ring finger, the sudden dark under eyes and disheveled appearance that started 3 years ago when they would meet early in the morning for briefings, and when he caught sight of a vomit stain decorating the left shoulder of his black t-shirt — he just wasn’t one to pry.

Those same observant eyes were glued to the grieving widow and the blue-eyed toddler.

Her mind was pulled out of thoughts as Price approached her with a warm and tender expression in his eyes. In his hands were the dog tags, along with his keepsakes of his beloveds and in a small box was the wedding band. All of his personal belongings packed neatly into a box. Price knew he didn’t have to say anything to her for her to know that he was paying his respects to Johnny’s wife. Prior to the memorial service she had made it clear to Price that she wanted him to keep his ashes. She found they would get at least some closure from releasing them.

As Price drew her small frame in for a polite hug her son grew restless in her arms. She knew he was too young to understand that his father was gone, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable and upset from the lack of him. "Mama, it's cold" he fussed as he smushed his face farther onto her neck, "and your feet are getting wet. You're gonna catch a cold". She gave Price an apologetic smile as she turned her attention to her son now — Price had taken it as a signal to retreat. He now stood with two other men.

She couldn't help but smile at the innocence and kindness that exuded from her son. She gently patted his back to soothe his discomfort, "How about we get out of here and get some lunch?" she tried to speak in her most joyful tone, but even then it was coated in sorrow. The boy did not catch on to her somber response, and instead eagerly nodded his head as he perked up to look at his mother. That is when she realized how similar their son, Samuel, looked to his father. He mirrored him in nearly every aspect -- the eye shape and color, the dark hair, and even the mannerisms were similar. This could all be a fragment of her imagination -- she thought. Maybe it was part of her grieving process. She missed him so much that she began to look for him and could only find him perfectly in their Sammie. She was so consumed by her thoughts, that she had not realized the single salty tear that slipped out of her eye and down her cheek. Samuel hated to see his mother cry, he quickly brought his tiny hands up to her cheek and wiped it away with a slightly heavy palm. Usually, he would verbally comfort her — as best as a toddler could do, but all he did was lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his mother's forehead, "This always makes you feel better when Daddy does it". Does -- in present tense.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She could not tolerate being at the memorial service for much longer, and neither could Samuel. She had buckled him into his car seat and handed him a strawberry and banana squeezable fruit pack and crackers to ease his rumbling tummy in the meantime.

However, as she closed the car door and turned her back to face the crowd of people one last time she was instead met with a tall, burly build of a man. His face was hidden by a balaclava, leaving only his eyes on display. But the rest of his face was not necessary to note that he was also grieving. She noticed him within the crowd of the memorial service as well -- she assumed that was one of Johnny's friends, but did not bother to congregate with anyone since Johnny kept his personal life completely separate from his work life. And if she was being honest with herself, she did not have the emotional stamina to socialize with people that spent months out of the year with her late husband.

"Sorry. Can I help you with something?" she asked the brute man. She stared up at him with her eyes slightly shut to avoid water from getting into them.

"He’s Johnny’s" was his only reply. For a moment she only blinked and stared at him and noted the heavy English accent. The mention of her late husband’s name stung as she now was fighting back tears. Yes, he is Johnny's son. His pride and joy -- was what she wanted to say, but she could barely muster up the strength to nod her head.

She could tell that the individual's lips tightened into a line by the way the fabric of his mask slightly stretched. "My name is Simon. I was a friend of Johnny's..." he attempted to continue speaking, but all he did was nervously rub the back of his neck. "Johnny meant a lot to me, a real friend of mine..." he trailed off again.

She knew he was grieving, but it was a different type of pain. She sensed guilt within his sadness, but she knew better than to ask about any specifics. Her kind nature and maternal habits took over as she saw Simon struggling to find his words. For whatever reason this man decided to make himself emotionally uncomfortable to introduce himself, she figured there would be no harm in easing his mind.

She knew who Simon was since Johnny would bring up his friend "Ghost" every now and then "I know who you are" she smiled warmly trying to be the emotional rock between the two, "How about you join us for some lunch. I think Sammie would love to talk to and get to know his Uncle Ghost" she spoke eagerly in an attempt to lighten the mood -- something that was usually Johnny's role.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The three of them sat in a booth within a homely diner. The rain had completely let down at this point, the large drops of water hitting the roof of the diner with loud individual pats. Her hands were wrapped around a warm mug of coffee as she stared out the window watching blades of grass be temporarily smooshed by the inclement weather. The waitress had refilled her mug causing her gaze to turn towards her, her eyes softened and she gave the waitress a subtle nod to thank her. It was then that she realized that her son was wearing the ghost mask that was once on Simon. There was a glimmer of joy in Sam's eyes as he stood on the booth and gently hopped toward his mother to show her the "cool mask".

"I look so cool!" he exclaimed which only caused a chuckle to leave both her and Simon's mouths as the toddler's face was completely exposed through the eye hole on the mask -- his features obviously too small to fill the mask in the same manner. Upon hearing the slight laugh she turned to look at Simon, who she was surprised to see with dirty blonde hair. He was overall a handsome man, something that anyone would notice at first glance, but his eyes always conveyed a lot of emotion. Right now it was amusement tinged with pain as he stared at Sam. She knew he also noticed how strongly he resembles Johnny, and a part of her found comfort in knowing that she was not grieving alone. The way he looked at Sammie made her feel warm. She sensed that Simon knew Johnny deeper than most of the people at the memorial service — knowing that she found herself smiling at the thought of her being able to cherish Johnny’s memories with someone else.

The waitress had arrived with everyone's meals. Sam did not hesitate to dig into his plate. The toddler abruptly grabbed the bottle of syrup and drenched his pancakes in it. His careless behavior causing some of it to spill onto to the table, "Use your table manners please" she spoke sternly, but softly to the boy as she slipped him a napkin and a set of covered utensils.

"He looks just like him" he spoke in a gentle and respectful tone. His eyes rested on Sam -- who was now too focused on using his utensils properly to pay attention to the conversation happening in front of him.

Her hand wiped a strand of dark stray hair away from his forehead before she turned her attention toward Simon, who was now looking at her, "Yeah. Carried him for 9 months and he's got the nerve to look just like his father" she shrugged with a pained smile — her attempt to lighten the mood once again failing, "but I wouldn't have it any other way".

Simon took note of the sorrow hidden within the smile as his own face mirrored it out of empathy.

A few minutes had gone by and Samuel was still working on his meal, Simon had quickly eaten his, and she played with her food, tossing it around all over her plate in a desperate attempt to distract herself. How embarrassing would it be to break down at a family diner. "You should eat your lunch" he spoke. The deep voice dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced down to look at his empty plate and her contrastingly full one. Casually shrugging off his suggestion she set her fork down and let out a soft sigh, "I'll just take it to go. I don't really have an appetite at the moment" she spoke in a casual tone — too causal of a tone. She was normally a social person, the type to be able to engage in conversation with any type of person for hours. Her personality was magnetizing in the sense that she was an incredibly open minded person, which only made her a vessel for hundreds on conversations, all of different topics and tones — a quality that Johnny loved about her. She was one of the few that would keep up with his mindless thoughts and nonsense ideas. That is where she was at the moment. In her mind she was thinking about the woman she was before she got the gut wrenching knock at her door. The knock where she was told by Laswell and Price that her husband was gone. “Killed in Action” were the words they used. “He died saving the world” was something Price added.

Sure he had died saving the world, but her and her son’s was destroyed. She was never a selfish person, but in that moment she wished the world would burn if it meant he was in her arms instead of merely a memory. She hadn’t noticed until recently that tears were flooding her cheeks and spilling onto her meal. Simon had been observing her for a moment as she watched her fall into deep thought, but once he saw her tear stained face he acted quickly.

He swiftly took his wallet out of his pocket and placed a $50 bill on the table to cover their meals and a decent tip, “Come on” he spoke in a demanding voice, his tone remaining soft enough for her and Sam to remain calm. Sam was oblivious to his mother’s current state as he had now distracted himself with the crayons and the kids menu.

She looked at Simon as she attempted to regain her composure. It was long gone, she was an emotional mess at the diner — exactly what she was trying to avoid. “It’s alright.” he coo’d as he took Sam into his arm. With his free hand he guided her out of the booth and to the exit.

He took the initiative to get the mother and son home as soon as possible. The three of them approached her car, “Get in and take a few deep breaths, yeah?” he instructed while simultaneously holding the door open for her. Sam had been buckled into his car seat, which Simon struggled to figure out, but the toddler being incredibly intuitive had seen his mother and father do it hundreds of times and was able to talk Simon through it.

If that had happened under different circumstances she would have been able to congratulate Sam and let him know how proud she is of him, but she was far from being in that state of self awareness and state of mind.

She was a wreck in the passengers seat of her own car. She was heartbroken in the passengers seat of her own car. The severity of it all finally setting in making it nearly impossible for her to get ahold of herself.

Is she just exhausted from the days leading up to the funeral? A weeks worth of concealed emotions finally spilling out in front of her. She is definitely overwhelmed, but this time she subconsciously feels safe and secure enough to let go of her broken front.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Months had gone by since her meltdown in front of Simon, and he never once brought it up. He was well aware it wasn’t something she was proud of, nor did she want to talk about her grief. Simon had been coming around her and Samuel a couple times a week just to check in on the pair. He felt it was his responsibility to keep them safe now — the least he could do for his recently deceased friend. Everyday he spent with the two of them he realized why Soap had kept them a secret. They were truly too special to put into any risk; especially her. She was a walking breath of fresh air, not something anyone encounters often in their lifetime, especially not in their line of work and the lifestyle it supplies. Now it all made sense. Johnny was always the most eager to return home when they’d be out in the field, said he had “something special” waiting for him, but everyone would shrug it off.

He grew to understand Soap’s decision to keep his family hidden from the world he worked in.

Even though Simon was consumed in his own thoughts he was still able to be completely alert as the mother and son played on the playground.

Her laugh. It stripped him away from his spiraling memories and muses. His gaze snapped to her body on the floor covered in wood chips, she had clearly tripped and stumbled while playing with Samuel. She was laughing at her clumsiness, laughing at how attentive Samuel was to his mother as soon as she hit the cushioned floor, “Sammie, I’m okay” she soothed him as he clung to her — small and gentle laughs leaving her full lips as she reacted to the entire scenario.

That was the first time Simon had heard her laugh.The sound of her sweet tone intoxicating to him. He couldn’t get enough, is what he mentally told himself as he walked over to her to help get back on her feet. Her soft and polished hand nestled and firmly gripped onto his rough and calloused one as he pulled her off the ground.

Guilt lingered in his being upon realizing how much he liked being around her, but he needed to be there for them. The conflict was clear within him, and something he figures he’ll eventually learn to accept and move forward with. He knew he would have to set aside his audacious feelings to respect her and more importantly to respect Johnny. He would be there to protect them as much as she allowed him. He wasn’t planning on getting emotionally attached to the the pair, or her alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later that same evening, Simon had made the decision to pay her and Sammie a visit. He stepped out of his car with a bag of Chinese takeout in his hand. Chinese food had become the only thing she would willingly eat ever since Johnny passed. A swift hand smoothing his plain black t-shirt before he began walking toward her front door, but as soon as his hand left his clothing he realized what he was doing. Bringing her favorite food to her and her son with no real reason to be seeing her, checking his appearance — something uncommon for the typically aloof man. A lingering hint of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he treaded towards the front door of her house. No, Simon was only supposed to be there for the mother and son duo as an aide during this severe loss. He felt that’s what he owed to Johnny since he felt partially responsible for his death. A cocktail of traumatic thoughts and memories invaded his mind . The grip on the take-out bag grew stronger, the same strength being felt in his chest as his heart pounded in its cavity

Upon reaching the front door he heard what sounded like a glass had broken — as if it had fallen off of a surface, which isn’t a big deal, she had a bad habit off leaving glasses on the edge of countertops and tables, but the yelp that followed only made Simon react in the most instinctive manner. He rushed inside the house and into the kitchen where she was found with a dish towel wrapped around her hand and a grimace on her face. Her nose scrunched in reaction to the pain.

Simon raised an eyebrow at her as he approached her with swift and long strides. His demeanor was urgent, alarmed and slightly panicked as his body was still in a reactive state from his memories, but how could she know that? She stared at him with the same expression, but she had more reason to. His breathing wasn’t heavy but it was slightly sporadic. At the same time, it was still controlled, his body was tense, but most significantly, his eyes looked panicked and unsettled. “I didn’t know you’d be visiting tonight. You should have let me know,” she spoke casually as she continued holding pressure on her fresh wound, “Or else I wouldn’t have-“ her words stopped flowing when Simon grabbed her hand and began to examine the brand-new cut. She watched his concerned expression lighten when he confirmed that the abrasion was small enough to heal on its own, “- let my mom take him for the weekend.” She finally completed her sentence when his large brown eyes met hers.

She knew exactly what was happening to him. She recognized the wide, alert eyes, uneven breathing, and tense mannerisms. This was a common occurrence that she witnessed Johnny experience. Her husband was gone, but there were constant reminders of him everywhere -- and one thing she hated seeing was Johnny struggling with his PTSD. Just like Johnny, she couldn't tolerate seeing Simon in the same condition.

Using her unharmed hand, she grabbed Simon's calloused one. Her movements were gentle and fluid as she guided their hands to the left side of her chest. With his palm now resting on her chest she looked into his eyes before speaking in a nurturing tone. "Slow and steady. Count it for me" she said as she placed her own hand over his chest. It was then that she noticed how hard and fast his heart pounded. "I’ll count yours until we match pace. One, two, three..."

Eventually, Simon counted with her, his heart rate slowing gradually as his mind remained distracted from the trauma and focused on her. On her beating heart, on her nurturing voice, on her full pink lips, on her long dark eyelashes, on her soft delicate hands. Her. His mind consumed by images of her, his newfound serenity.

Simon cannot help but feel guilty, but his pleasure and serene state strongly blinds him from this feelings. This is exactly what he didn’t want, but he can’t help but relish in it.

[zerosomnia]

Neteyam x Human! Reader

Summary: You don't show up to your morning lessons with the Tsahik, Ronal, and Neteyam finds himself worried over nothing.

Might make a part 2 👀

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none apart from spider being canonically stinky - you can't tell me that boy doesn't need a bath 🫣

Word count: 1.8k

Translations -

Skxawng = Moron

You remember the day you first visited Awa’atlu like it had happened yesterday. The Metkayina’s had been wary when you had arrived, stepping down from the helicopter with a hurried expression and wild hair. You had ignored their gathering and babbling as you bolted towards the marui pod that Jake had said Kiri resided in, ignoring Norm’s calls for you to wait and darting inside to see your beloved friend. Your heart sank to see her in such a state, and yet you had been given a gift. You were able to witness the true wonder of Na’vi healing, and you had been obsessed ever since. You weren’t so much obsessed in the spiritual way, though you had no reason to doubt Eywa’s existence, but you had always been highly scientific. It was then that your chance appeared. Norm and Max decided they needed a scientist to stay back and keep an eye on Kiri - and you all but jumped at the situation. Desperate to study the new life at the reef, you begged them to let you stay, promising you’d send back reports of the local fauna if you were allowed the chance to look after your friend.

In hindsight, your curious nature was likely due to growing up around Norm and Max, as the other child who was left behind. Spider had integrated himself with the Sully’s family - whereas you had integrated with the scientists, engrossing yourself in the biological wonder that was Pandora. Though you were still plenty close with Kiri and Lo’ak, it wasn’t hard to be when they were constantly dotting around the lab with spider, Neteyam and Tuk were more distant to you. Tuk was always around her mother, as a child should be, and Neteyam had been busy working and preparing for his iknimaya - his rite of passage. You were tentative acquaintances with him, but you certainly found yourself admiring his kind and jovial nature;  especially compared to his harsher mother.

As of recently, you had been assisting Ronal, Tsireya, and Kiri, adamant about learning the ways of Na’vi healing. Ronal, although wary of you, reluctantly let you tag along; even if it was just to keep an eye on you. She wasn’t keen on risking a human running wild about her village. And so you had been studying, soaking in everything she told you like a sponge. You found that your fluency in Na’vi often surprised her and coupled with your intense curiosity you made an adequate student. This is why it was unusual when you didn’t show up to your usual morning training - luckily, she wasn’t particularly bothered about your presence. After all, a human would never be Tsahik - but she did find herself offhandedly mentioning it to the girls as they were working. The lack of your questioning made for a considerably quieter session.

Once the morning’s training had passed, the group of teenagers and Tuk found themselves gathered on the shoreline. Sharing tales of their day and bantering about old adventures. The relationship between them had gradually been getting better, and again they found your presence was sorely missed. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” Kiri’s concerned stare turned to Spider, who shared her cabin that was a little ways off the village. It was the only place the two humans could breathe normally,so it made sense that they would stay together. Spider hummed for a moment.

“I haven’t seen her since last night, she was in her lab again. Told her to eat dinner but I don’t know if she actually did.” Surprisingly, Neteyam was the one who seemed most interested in the conversation. The others had already broken off into other topics, but he found himself pressing for more.

“You think she’s still there?” Spider nodded in response. 

“If she’s not with us or Ronal, she’s there. She never goes out alone.”

Despite spider’s reassurances, it wasn’t long before Neteyam found himself clambering up the small hill to the rockface where your cabin resided. He found himself worried, despite his lack of closeness with you. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. He peered in through the windows into the living space, a nervous choking panic began to fill his throat when there was no signs of movement within the room. Usually, he wouldn’t enter the human cabins unless he needed to. But he wanted to know that you were safe, Spider’s negligence of you irritated him in some way. He found himself surprisingly riled up as he opened the airlock and slipped on one of the CO2 masks that you kept for Na’vi visitors. He released the air seal and ducked under the doorway, it was only then that he realised he had no clue which room was yours. He had never been into the personal cabin that you and spider shared, and he found himself peering around the main living space with eyes like saucers. It was homely, woven blankets scattered over the couch, and various textbooks covering the coffee table and the floor in front of what he assumed was a TV (Spider had described it in detail to him). Some of Spider’s crafts were strewn across the lunch table - some sculptures that were barely started, and a weaving that looked far too intricate to be Spider’s own work. It appeared to be an arm band of some kind, with various pearls and beads woven into the pattern. 

He moved on through the building, quickly finding what he assumed was Spider’s room - surprisingly he found himself recoiling a little at the smell of the room. He had never noticed the boys smell personally, but then again they were always outside with him. 

Neteyam decided to close the door and move on, which left one more door that was cracked open. He peered in and quickly laid eyes on your slumped over figure. As he stalked closer he felt relief flooding his body hearing your heavy breathing, you were asleep. Judging from your uncomfortable pose and the samples strewn across your desk, you had fallen asleep while working. He found himself curious about what you had been doing and he peered down into your little microscope, quietly gasping at the millions of little circles and shapes that danced under the glass lens. It was only when he drew back a little he realised how close he was to your sleeping face. You looked so peaceful and serene, and he found himself reaching towards you. The skin of your cheek was soft under his gentle touch as he traced down the side of your face, he had never been this close to you. You were lovely, in a very human way, softer than the other muscled Na’vi he had grown up around, smaller too - he could tell even from his palm beside you that your entire head would perfectly fit into his hand. You stirred a little, jolting him out of his admiration and shifting him into a role more reminiscent of a caretaker.

“Y/N,” he whispered lowly, he didn’t really want to wake you - but you looked terribly uncomfortable leaning over the desk. You hummed lightly in response to his voice, leaning into his touch but not really waking. He repeated your name again, trying to be a little more assertive and louder with his words. “Y/N. You need to get up now, it’s midday.” The change in volume had your eyes slowly opening, squinting in the bright light that was beaming through your window. As you pushed yourself upwards and looked around a little, it took you a moment to realise who had woken you.

“Oh… hi Neteyam,” Surprise seemed to be laced into your tired voice, though you hadn’t yet noticed the proximity the two of you were sharing.

“Are you alright?” he nodded towards your work, waiting for your tired brain to catch up with what he was saying. You looked around in a confused manner before leaning back into his shoulder a bit to stretch and rub your face, the close contact had the scent of your shampoo consuming him, sweet and artificial in a mouth watering way.

Then your brain seemed to finally catch up, and the feeling of his towering figure leaning over you and his steady breathing against your neck sent a flurry of waves through your chest that turned your legs to jelly. 

“Uhm… yeah,” you managed to stammer out, whirling out from under him and towards the door in a flustered mess. “I��� I really need a coffee.”

He followed your retreating figure through into the main room, where you hunched yourself over the coffee machine, desperately waiting for the ambrosia to cool so that you could fill your aching brain with thoughts again. You hadn’t noticed that Neteyam had wandered back over to the lunch table.

“This is nice,” he held up your weaving work. “Too nice to be Spider’s.” he chuckled and looked at you knowingly. The lump in your throat felt impossible to swallow, he wasn’t supposed to see it yet. His birthday was still at least a week away. Instead of answering you just nodded and inhaled a mouthful of coffee - in your haste it was still far too hot and you found yourself coughing and spluttering as molten lava made its way down your throat. Neteyam rushed over and took your cup. “Ah! Skxawng! Why would you try to drink that?!” He cursed at the heated mug as reached over and placed it behind you on the counter.

“I don’t know! You…” you trailed off as you realised how close to you he was, he had you trapped in the small corner, chest to chest with him. You found yourself lost in his honey coloured eyes, your breathing had both slowed down and sped up so that your heart was bursting out of your chest. He was so tantalisingly close, almost magnetically pulling you towards him.

“ I what…?” he whispered, leaning closer, his warm breath was fanning over your cheeks and you weren’t sure whether you should try to step back and press yourself further into the counter, or lean in and let the electricity between you both flow. But then suddenly he was gone, pulling back and away and your head was swimming, confused and nearly insulted, until you heard familiar laughter and chatter as Spider and Lo’ak barged through the door in a conversation. 

“You ok, Y/N?” Spider called to you, your frazzled expression and red face clearly causing some form of concern for him. You hummed a breathless yes back to him and quickly gathered your coffee, trying to rush back through to your room before you gave yourself away more - but not so quickly that you missed the small smile and tint of darker blue that graced Neteyam’s cheeks.

Maybe you hadn’t embarrassed yourself so much after all.

[maochira]

Are you crying in pain, or are you crying in joy? (big brother!Shidou & younger sibling!reader)

Synopsis: Your brother has never been great at telling what you feel and never knows when it's time to comfort you. Even when you reunite with him during his break from Blue Lock, he doesn't understand the reason for your tears.

Tags: gn!younger sibling!reader, reader is highly sensitive and cries very easily, big brother!Shidou

This is part of my Shidou birthday countdown event!

"I'm home!" Your brother's voice appears out of nowhere. It's so sudden, for a moment you doubt if it's real and think you might be hallucinating. But as soon as Shidou calls out again, you snap back to reality, realizing he's really returned to home.

"Where's my favourite idiot?!" Shidou opens the door to your room without knocking first and immediately jumps on you, who's sitting on the bed, and tackles you down before he starts a tickle attack on you that immediately makes you break out in laughter.

Usually, you'd be used to that. But it's been so long since you've seen your brother, it catches you off guard for a moment. And as soon as you gather yourself, you start tickling him back, turning the situation into a little tickle fight. Shidou isn't actually that ticklish, but you know the back of his neck is his weakness.

"That sure is a way to say hello." Your brother chuckles as he gets up again and looks around your room. "Hasn't changed much. Still looks as shitty as before I left."

"You say that as if your room looks any better." You stick your tongue out to him for a moment, but you're not that much in the mood for teasing right now. Emotions about seeing your brother again are starting to build up on the inside and you already know you're about to break into tears.

Shidou quickly notices your expression softening a little and sits back down on the bed. "So, what did you do while I was gone? Got into any trouble?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Do I look like that?"

"I don't know," Shidou shrugs with a grin, "Maybe you finally turned into a rebel without me around to protect you. Or are you still a sensitive little baby?"

"H-hey!" Although you're protesting against it, Shidou's teasing makes it a bit easier to hold back your crying because it makes you laugh. "I'm not a baby!"

"Of course you are!" Shidou leans a bit towards you and pinches your cheek. "You'll always be my little baby sibling. Always." Even though he's teasing you, there's a slight tone of affection and protection in your brother's voice.

"I'm not even that much younge-"

"I don't care! You're my baby sibling!" Shidou is quick to interrupt you and reaches his other hand towards your face as well, now pinching both of your cheeks. "My little baby sibling who will always need their big brother to protect them."

As the affectionate tone grows a little more prominent, the heavy emotions in you grow at the same time and you keep getting close to just bursting out in tears.

And then, before you even notice it, you're crying. Not just a little. A lot. Tears running down your cheeks uncontrollably.

And that's when Shidou is out of words. 99% of the time he can talk like a waterfall but as soon as you start crying, it's as if his brain can't form a proper sentence anymore. And actually, he can't even properly comprehend why you are crying in the first place.

"I missed you so much..." You pull your big brother into a tight hug and start sobbing onto his shoulder. "So so much..."

"I missed you as well, but uh... why are you crying?" Shidou ruffles your hair gently before wrapping both of his arms around you. "You were laughing just a few moments ago."

"I just got very emotional again..."

While Shidou may not understand why you're crying, he's still concerned about you. He's always a bit helpless when it comes to comforting you, though.

"But like... are you crying in joy, or are you crying in pain?" His embrace tightens a bit when he notices your sobbing doesn't stop yet. It's a bit of a stupid question to ask because you're obviously not crying with a smile on your face. Shidou just doesn't know what else to say.

And also, he just needs to ask to be 100% sure.

"I think... both? Maybe...?" Your answer surprises Shidou a little, but he's glad to know you're not having a breakdown right now. "I just... I missed you so much and I hated being without you..." You continue speaking between your sobbing. "But... I'm also very happy that you're back home."

"Hm..." Shidou pulls you a little closer. "Then I'll make sure you're only crying in joy, alright? We've got two weeks to spend together now! And I'll be with you the entire time, alright?" A slight teasing tone mixes into his voice again. "But right now you can cry as much as you need... Babies cry all the time anyways."

You immediately pull away from the hug. "Hey!" A few tears are still running down your cheeks, but your brother's teasing caught you a bit off guard. "I told you I'm not a baby."

Shidou chuckles and gives your cheek another pinch. "And I told you that you'll always be my little baby sibling, idiot."

Taglist (sign-up link): @starhrtz @kaineedstherapy12 @zyuuuu @luvcalico @truegoist @vanitasbrainrot @mafuyudonutt @acacIa @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @https-archangel @ririgards @depressed-bitchy-demon

[xxsycamore]

𝙔𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙮 𝙎𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 ( SEBASTIAN X READER )

↬ 🍜 Putting food in your stomach makes your cramps flare up, and you refuse to eat. Sebastian can't have that.

Sebastian x Reader• rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Fluff; Blankets; Food; Cooking • wordcount:  995 • masterlist

a/n: This one goes to the fellow period-sufferers who can eat little to nothing the first two days 😭 If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

"I need you to eat something. Please."

You shake your head, curling up further onto yourself in silent protest of standing up to eat. You hate refusing Sebastian of all people. One reason is that you're familiar with his caring, warm side - you recognize that tone as he asks you to at least try the warm soup he's holding out to you.

A whiff of the delicious broth and your stomach waves the white flag, putting an end to the silent protest as it audibly announces it's hunger, by growling. Loudly. And you speak up before Sebastian does… Or before he resorts to something worse. You protectively place the pillow over your forehead, just to be cautious.

"I caaaan't, Sebas! Stop torturing me by waving your yummy soup in my face, it's not that I don't want to eat, it's that I can't!"

Sebastian lets out a low hum, straightening up again and placing the lid back on the tray.

"I understand now. Your period is upsetting your stomach."

You groan, dragging the pillow down so that it covers your face. He's ever so perceptive. A bit too much, even.

"Putting food in it makes my cramps flare up."

"Even if it's in little quantities?"

"…No. But I never know when to stop. Especially now that I'm hungry."

Another humming noise of calculation comes from the butler, and you prefer to warn him before his diamond mind comes up with a 'solution'.

"It's futile. I'll wait out the worst of it and then I'll eat. I promise?"

"I was actually thinking about how you said you feel guilty for not being able to finish your chores. Would you mind helping me with something small that I believe won't be a problem in your state?"

This blanket smells like Sebastian. Getting all cozied up in the chair by the kitchen counter, wrapped up in a blanket by no one other than Sebastian, you can't help but cheer up a little. It feels like being sick, but less sickness and more being taken care of. You were worried about the task you'll be presented with, but you doubt it can be that hard if he gets you all seated and comfy beforehand.

"I'm trying a set of new dishes for today's lunch. As you know, I hold our Masters' opinion in high regard and the food presented on their plates has to be impeccable."

And today of all days he has to cook by himself… you frown, raising your head from where it was nested in the blanket to offer your help. But Sebastian holds up a hand to signal letting him finish before you speak.

"I want you to do a round of taste-testing for me, nothing more, nothing less. Can you do that?"

You pause, understanding only just now your role. "I can, but… is my palate refined enough?"

"It is. Now, without further ado, open up."

With no room for complaints, the spoon is brought in front of your lips and you part them to let it in.

You've no idea what that's supposed to be, but it's delicious.

"They'll LOVE it."

"Are you sure? I think it has a bit too strong of a spicy aftertaste. Here, hold this and try the whole spoonful, I will bring you a drink."

You do as told, concentrating on the information registered by your taste buds. By the time Sebastian is back with a glass of water, you're done with your answer.

"Try adding a little more salt and it would be perfect."

"Right away." Like a magician doing a trick, Sebastian moves his hand over the pot and a pinch of salt is added. "Try again now."

"Mhm, that's better. What about the side dish?"

"It's here. Make sure to try all three garnishes. Then try this and this together. And then we'll decide on one of the two sauces I prepared, depending on which one compliments the dish best. Afterward, we'll proceed with the palate-cleansing salad from the five-course meal."

Your head spins with Sebastian's presentation as he brings multiple plates into your vision. He's so serious about this. It's impressive.

"They all look absolutely delicious already, Sebastian…okay, bring it on!"

Sebastian smiles, content with having a good helper like you.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @violettduchess @namine-somebodies-nobody Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

As you lift another spoonful towards your mouth, you fail to notice just how content he is, attributing it all to his efforts to fill the mansions' stomachs with yummy food. This is what all of this is about…right?

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC intro - Tierney Wayne

Time to continue with more SOTL intros!

Basics

Cis boy he/him

At the start of the series, Tierney is 14

Tierney has short black hair with long bangs reaching his eyebrows. He's very pale and has bright blue eyes. He's about 5'5 at the start and is in reasonably decent shape.

Very acearo

Tierney is gifted with electricity-based powers. He was always just a little too good at maintaining static on him, and he doesn't have a lot of control over his powers, so he has a tendency to blow things up.

Tierney is human, just one with a mutation.

Character/Personality

Tierney is a nerd; there is no doubt about it. He is fascinated by sciences, especially ones pertaining to magic. Even if he wasn't gifted, he'd probably go into a magical field. Tierney is highly experimental and loves figuring things out on his own, as well as doing intense research hours into the night.

Tierney very specifically likes potions. It's his Thing, though his electricity powers have gotten in the way and caused many experiments to blow up. Still, Tierney intends to become a potions master, and loves inventing his own potions--not just copying from a book.

Tierney does not really understand what exactly the point of most other subjects in school are. Why does he have to analyze a fictional text from a couple hundred years ago when he can make a potion that allows you to memorize the text just by flipping through the pages?

Tierney usually gets very absorbed in his work and himself. He's a touch arrogant when it comes to his skills, though he has a bit of an inferiority complex since his siblings tend to overshadow him. He's not good at making friends, but he doesn't mind them.

Other Notable Things

Tierney is the third-born of the royal family of England.

This means that Tierney is used to dressing really nice.

Tierney's siblings are Ritchie, Jarred, Stevie, Damari, and Carol. He is closest to Stevie.

Tag Games for More Tierney

Although Tierney has appeared in many excerpts and asks, I have never used him in an OC specific tag game :(

Don't worry I'll update this when I do

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

[snowdice]

Little Kestrel (Part 57) [Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb, sexual coercion of minors implied, a minor offering sexual favors, fire, minor character death

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted (and possibly some future content), look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29Part 30Part 31Part 32Part 33Part 34Part 35Part 36Part 37Part 38Part 39Part 40Part 41Part 42Part 43Part 44Part 45Part 46Part 47Part 48Part 49Part 50Part 51Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed with Patton even though he’d admitted that the textbook definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors. Virgil had done plenty of times! Logan and Patton still insisted it did not count.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference between Virgil’s past experiences and what they were doing today was just how much stuff one brought to the “picnic.”

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what “picnic food” was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting “picnic food” and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl. “We also have�� er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game Patton had brought on the blanket between all of them.

Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”

Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.

“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some wore pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.

After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.

“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.

Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of the boy’s mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.

Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.

They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.

The theme of the game was stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.

The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.

Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running through his veins.

Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.

While Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.

He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. On one side was the forest they’d rode through to get here; their horses were in a small meadow grazing a short walk away. On the other side were the cliffs the spot was named for. Their party were settled a good distance away from the cliffside, but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.

A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.

For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.

It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…

It had always been warm.

“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.

He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.

And he heard a whoosh.

[immacaria]

In The Dark of The Night

This is my first entry to the @dreamlingnation's event for the Sandman's first anniversary! The prompt was 'darkness' and I hope you guys like it!

Tags: Vampire AU; Witch AU; Vampire!Dream; Witch!Hob; Fantasy AU; Blood play (kind of?? Just to be sure); Fluff; Cuddling;

When Hob opens his eyes, darkness surrounds him. He barely can see his own hand in front of his eyes, let alone the corners and silhouettes of the room he is in. However, the room is not unknown to him.

He knows that, at his feet, there’s an antique chest full of papers and books that holds many secrets and that, at the far right of the room, a writing desk stands filled with fountain pens, quills, colourful inks and blank paper. Next to the soft bed, a big wooden wardrobe half filled with his clothes accompanies a basin of clear cold water under a mirror. It’s not the room he grew up in nor the one he currently sleeps in, but it is his room because it belongs to Dream and they belong to each other.

Soft blankets wrap Hob’s body and memories from last night come back to him slowly. The jokes, the laughter and the shared caresses. It all comes back slowly to him and he knows that, if he reaches out behind him now, there will be a somewhat cold weight leaning against his back.

Dream’s arms are wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to his chest, while his head rests between Hob’s shoulderplates. His skin is almost warm against Hob’s own, his blood still running inside the vampire’s veins and making the usually deadly cold body almost warm to touch. The thought of his blood running through the other’s veins is marvellous, it’s addicting, it’s intoxicating and Hob sighs contentedly at it.

Both of them have come a long way until they reached that point of familiarity and intimacy. Dream was scarred over past relationships, one worse than another, and Hob held too much responsibility into his own hands, a prejudice against each other’s races pushing them even more apart. But, somehow, they still ended up here, together and curled around one another with contentment.

He turns around on his lover’s arms, one hand coming to caress his face as his eyes stare at him. A smile appears on his lips as Dream presses against his hand, satisfaction clear on his expression. Like a cat, Hob thinks, thumb pressing against his cheekbone.

Where yesterday has been filled with hurry and laughter, the thrill of finally being together after days pushing them forward, today is filled with softness, love and rest. There's no need to hurry today, they aren't needed anywhere and, even if they were, Hob highly doubts they would go anywhere besides their bed and kitchen.

Because, yes, it's their bed now. Their bed, their kitchen, their sofa, their house, their home. After fighting so long to be together, just the fact of laying down here without the threat of anyone coming for them is a miracle.

And a miracle Hob is not willing to give back.

Pulling Dream closer to himself, he kissed the crown of his head, unruly hair tickling his nose. He keeps kissing him, his hand coming down to rest against his hips while he puts the other under Dream's shoulders. The darkness is quietly subduing around them, soft light beams coming through the curtains to wake them up. Outside, the city slowly comes to life as the humans fall asleep and the creatures of the night rise.

Dream's eyes flutter open, blinking unseeingly before focusing on him with the attention of a predator. Shockingly blue eyes look at every feature, even imperfection of his face as if trying to commit it to his memory and Hob smiles. Slightly sharp canines catch into his lower lip, drawing blood, and then his husband is kissing him.

His tongue drags over the blood before catching Hob's lip between his teeth and sucking. A moan escapes his throat as Dream's teeth deepens the cuts and more blood fills his mouth. They pull each other closer, legs intertwining as Dream pulls away to allow Hob breath.

"Good awakening, love," Dream says, voice low and raspy, and Hob kisses him again. His mouth tastes of copper and salt and home.

"Good night, duck," Hob answers, smiling at him and not noticing how the darkness disappeared from around them. The rest of the world doesn’t matter, for his whole world is there, right between his arms.

[dutifullylazybread]

🪻 WIP TAG GAME 🪻

I was tagged by @faerunsbest to share a piece of my current WIP! Thank you so much for this!! I am playing catch up on the things I have been tagged in, so if you have tagged me in something, my goal is to have it completed by Sunday. ❤️ I love getting these--they are so much fun to do!!

No pressure tags: @lemonsrosesandlavender, @graysparrowao3, and @freesidexjunkie!! If anyone else would like to do this Tay, please feel free! :D

Here is an excerpt from chapter 10! This isn't edited, so it might be clunky, and it is still subject to revision.

Here ya go!

“How was the performance?” Rolan asked, tucking his finger under the page and turning it over.

“I think it went well,” she replied. She opened the top drawer of her desk to retrieve her mirror. The next show would be in a half hour, so she had planned to use this time to polish her appearance.

Sitting atop her mirror was a bundle of purple crocuses. She glanced to Rolan, who kept his gaze studiously trained on his work, though his writing was slower than normal for him.

She withdrew the bundle and brought it to her lips. Normally, these blooms didn’t have much of a scent, the fragrance was usually faint and subdued.

Tav wondered how much time Rolan spent looking for the ones that were honey-fragrant.

“These are beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said with a half-shrug, though his cheeks were dusted with a soft blush.

Tav was already busy threading a few into her hair—she tucked one behind her right ear, and she ran three more through her bun. “How does this look?” she asked him, turning about, the skirt of her gown swirling around her ankles.

Rolan set down his quill. “I highly doubt anyone will be looking at your hair,” he said.

“What will they be looking at?” Tav asked. She reached for her water glass and dropped the remainder of the bundle into it. She placed it in a sunny patch on her desk.

“I—” He froze. “The performance, obviously.”

“Ah, perhaps I don’t need to gussy myself up so much next time,” Tav mused.

“I never said that.”

Tav came to stand in front of his desk, smiling at him. “Thank you.” She reached out and smoothed a flyaway hair back into place.

Rolan leaned into her touch and softly kissed her wrist. She bit her lower lip “It was nothing,” he said. “Beside, someone left me purple lilacs the other day. I get the sense you were involved.”

“Do you now?” she asked him.

Rolan rose up from his chair and leaned over the desk. “I don’t believe I got the chance to thank you,” he said, rounding the desk and coming to stand in front of her.

Her breath caught. “Well, you were awfully busy that day,” she mused.

“A paltry excuse if I have ever heard one.” He rested his brow against hers. “Thank you,” he said. “They were lovely.”

She nudged his nose with hers, and he chuckled.

[annabtg]

Hello ♡

Jily and Jilypad are two favourites ships of mine ( among the others) but I usually don't actively search for works in their tag because I suck at finding things by tag. So, I was wondering if you can kindly help me with that by recommending some angsty/tragic Jily or Jilypad works.

Thank you in advance and sorry for appearing out of nowhere. ♡

Hi there! Absolutely do not apologize! Anyone who loves Jily and Jilypad is welcome here :D

Now, the thing is that I don't read much in the way of angsty/tragic stories; I'm usually more fluff oriented. However, between my reading and discussions with fellow fans, I can give you some recs!

Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting) by @kay-elle-cee is a super angsty story about Sirius, Lily and James. I haven't read it but Kelsey's writing is fantastic so I have absolutely no qualms about recommending this! (And then maybe check her other works tagged angst. She's not afraid to pack a punch.)

A Fate Resigned by @possessingtheproperspirit killed me 😭 I know angst fans also highly recommend her series the way you left me - which, again, I haven't read but I have no doubt must be excellent.

And The Wolves All Cry by monroeslittle is another one that I haven't read but is always the first story any Jily fan mentions when they think about angst.

no body no crime by @wearingaberetinparis is a WIP, but it's nailbitingly good. Mary these days is working on Love Is A Lie, which I know is also angsty but probably more on the relationship/heartbreak side than the dark angst side. (She's splendid at relationship angst though so if that's your thing, go ahead and scroll through her stuff unashamedly! She's one of my favourites.)

Another WIP that has the angst fans in a chokehold is Dead To Me by @itsjamespotter. I read the first installment and it was devastatingly good, but too painful for me to read as a WIP.

If you're asking me, I'm assuming you've read my story My Best Friend's Girl, which is nothing like the above angstfests but James does get a good bit of heartbreak while Lily is in a relationship with Sirius.

Unfortunately I don't have much in the way of Jilypad here, as, like I said, I don't read much angst and Jilypad stories are more scarce to begin with. But one day I will finish that super angsty prophecy/war AU where Lily goes to live with Sirius and they pretend her baby is his.

Hope you find some stuff you like here! I'm sure more people can add their own recs :) Happy reading! ❤️

[lyriumlullaby-ao3]

WIP tag game <3

i was tagged by the lovely @illusivesoul, thank you so much!!

i'm gonna tag @broodwolf221, @starstruckkittyface, @jazzmckay, and anybody else who wants an excuse to show off part of their WIP!

seriously. tag me. i love this shit lmao

okayyyy i really struggled to pick a bit to share, but then i remembered this cute, tropey scene i wrote that immediately precedes Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts in my longfic that i don't think i've shared! it's Miri (my inky) and Cullen as they're still in their awkward "oh my god i think i like you" phase lmao. hope you enjoy! <3

Miri found the gardens to be rather sterile. They were too carefully groomed, the angles made where the paths that wound between hedges met were too sharp, and the flowers seemed dull—too perfect in their appearance, and entirely lacking in their scent. It was disappointing to her, and especially so here, on the outskirts of the Dales, of all places. The Keeper and hahrens of her clan had always told fanciful stories of the beauty of the Dales at the time of Halamshiral, and while Miri highly doubted that they were completely true, these gardens could never compare even to what she’d seen in the Emerald Graves. They were too domesticated, too tamed by human hands—just as the Dales themselves were now, she supposed, all these ages since their fall. She had longed to leap from her horse and run laughing into the forests she’d seen to the south of here on their journey, tugging Solas along with her to explore all the things he’d missed during those weeks he’d been gone, and now the soles of her feet itched with the same desire. 

Still, it was quiet here, and Josephine had yet to find her to pester her about more etiquette or dancing lessons, so she supposed she couldn’t really complain. Miri contented herself with pulling at the strings of the Fade with her fingertips to make some of the plants grow a little wild, spilling out of pots and over walkways and fixing the uninspiring blossoms so that the gardens were filled with their fragrance. She had just made several new flower buds bloom on a gardenia bush, its sweet aroma wafting around her as she closed her eyes to admire her handiwork. Keeping them shut as she began stepping away to continue, Miri stumbled unexpectedly into something very large and very solid behind her. Strong hands grasped her by the arms and kept her from falling, and she jumped as her eyes flew open, spinning around and backing away quickly. 

Her heart rate slowed some when she looked up into bright eyes shining gold in the sunlight filtering through the treetops overhead and realized it was just Cullen. Miri let out a breath, chuckling as she clutched at her chest. “Commander! You startled me, I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I can see that, Inquisitor,” he hummed, that crooked smile of his pulling at his scar as he turned her usual joke back around on her. He looked better today than he had the last several weeks, even after their lengthy journey. The shadows under his eyes were all but gone, and he was freshly shaven again. His withdrawals must not be bothering him as much as usual. “Although I feel I must tell you, I’ve been here for some time, sitting right over there,” he teased, gesturing at an overly ornate marble bench behind himself where a book lay abandoned. “It was really you who approached, not me.”

“Ah, that explains it. I can usually hear you coming a mile away with all that plate and mail you wear. Don’t you ever take that off?” Miri joked back.

Cullen flushed, looking away and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “What? Oh, I, uh… Of course I do, it’s not as if I sleep in it, and I do have to bathe sometimes—” his teeth clenched and his flush deepened as Miri fought back a giggle at his expression. He was so easy to fluster—he almost did it to himself. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Fixing their horrible flowers,” Miri replied, pulling a face.

Now it was Cullen’s turn to laugh. “‘Horrible?’ What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re terrible!” Miri scoffed, rolling her eyes slightly as a smile tugged at her lips. “They’re all form and no substance. They don’t even smell like anything.”

Cullen bent over the shrub she’d just been blooming and lifted a hand to bring one of its flowers to his nose as he inhaled deeply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—it smells like a flower,” he replied, his expression bemused.

“Well, I already fixed that one,” Miri grinned. “What about you, what are you doing out here?”

Cullen flushed again, suddenly very interested in his boots. “Ah, well, I’m… uh, keeping clear of a number of… very enthusiastic young ladies inside the chateau. And a couple of enthusiastic young men, as well, I suppose. I’m not sure exactly who they are, but they wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried staying in my room, but they wouldn’t stop knocking and calling through the door,” he sighed. “I’m hoping they won’t look for me here.”

Miri couldn’t suppress her laughter this time. “You’re… hiding? From some girls?” 

“I’m not hiding! I simply don’t want to be bothered by them, I have more import—” he cut off, freezing as the sound of several tittering voices reached them from just down the path. They sounded like they were just around the corner. Cullen’s face blanched as Miri turned to look over her shoulder, and then all at once, Miri felt strong arms wrap around her torso and she was tugged into a gap in the hedges. 

Cullen held her pressed up against him in the space between the prickly branches—there wasn’t really even room for one average sized person in this little hollow, let alone two, especially if one of them happened to be as large as the Commander was. The hard plate of his cuirass pressed against her chest uncomfortably and restricted her breathing. Or, she thought it was his cuirass, anyway—why else would she suddenly be struggling to get enough air? There wasn’t any room for Miri to step away from him, and she could feel the heat of his hand pressing into her back as she craned her neck back to look at him. He lifted one finger to his lips, begging her to stay silent, but it was unnecessary—Miri couldn’t even breathe as his lyrium tang pressed into her lungs, the smell of it like the scent of a lightning storm on the wind just before the rain began. There was no way she could have made a sound even if she’d wanted to. 

Miri watched as Cullen’s eyes darted back and forth, panicked as the voices drew nearer. His gloved finger was still pressed up against his lips, puckered slightly outwards as he silently hushed her. She felt her breath catch when his eyes fell to hers, seemingly realizing for the first time how closely he held her to him, and a flush crept up his neck as she watched, but it was too late—the voices of Cullen’s admirers were just outside their hiding spot now. If either of them moved, they’d be discovered for sure. 

Cullen didn’t look away from her as she had expected—he held her gaze for an impossibly long moment while they waited for the voices to leave again. Miri felt frozen there, unable to move even if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. His finger slowly left his lips, the rest of them uncurling from against his palm as his hand fell to her face. Gently, he lifted a tiny braid that had fallen loose from the rest of her style and into her face, tucking it reverently back behind her left ear where it belonged. Miri shivered at his touch when his soft glove brushed against the sensitive skin of her pointed ear, making a chill run down her spine. The voices were gone—but Cullen’s grip didn’t loosen on her waist. She watched as his eyes fell to her mouth, licking his lips and swallowing hard—

And then he released her. She stumbled backwards out of the hedge, nearly straight into the gardenia bush, gasping for breath. “Cullen, what in the Void—”

“I’m sorry, I could hear them coming, I panicked, and—Maker’s breath,” he mumbled, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words.

A nervous giggle tore itself from her throat as Miri tried desperately to find something to do with her hands—what did normal people do with their hands in normal situations? “I noticed,” she gasped, still giggling. “Why did you pull me in with you?”

“I… I don’t know,” he breathed, looking at her strangely. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Cullen, you don’t have to—”

“Would you just—” he hissed, his brow furrowing for a moment and his hands coming up to slice at the air dramatically before he softened and his voice evened back out, “—let me apologize? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking, I just…”

“You just reacted. I understand. It’s fine, Cullen, really—you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Miri was surprised at how true the words felt as she said them. A templar had just grabbed her, pulled her into a bush, and held her flush against his body—touching her rather intimately, while he was at it—and she wasn’t uncomfortable with it? Maybe she was ill, she thought, pressing her cool hands to her flushed cheeks. 

But he isn’t a templar, something in Miri whispered, making her look back up at him again to find him watching her. Cullen’s face was still flushed pink to the tips of his ears, his lips parted as if he were about to say something. Miri didn’t know how it was always like this with him—either talking over one another, rushing to speak as words tumbled out of her before she’d even thought them through, or standing stock still, suspended in silence, staring at one another as seconds stretched stiffly between them, both waiting for the other to blink first. There was something about it that made her think of an the halla she’d accidentally killed when her magic first manifested, held motionless in a pillar of ice, though still alive, straining against the magic that held it as it slowly suffocated. 

Cullen leaned slowly towards her, and for a moment, Miri’s brain blanked out as his tall frame bent over hers, his face so close she could hear the quiet sound of his breath—and then he straightened again, twirling one of the fresh gardenia blossoms from the plant behind her in his nimble fingers. He flushed a bit deeper then, looking a little unsure of himself once more, then lifted the flower towards her stem first, a question in his one raised eyebrow. 

Miri wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, her mind still scrambling to catch up after the last few minutes, but she nodded anyway, and he gently tucked the bloom into her hair where he’d just brushed it over her ear. “These are lovely, Lavellan. It would be a shame to leave them all here where no one will truly appreciate what you’ve done with them. You should take one.” 

He grew bashful then when she didn’t reply, stunned into silence. Cullen stepped back from her, fiddling with one of his gloves with the opposite hand. “Well then, I’ll, uh. I’ll leave you to enjoy the gardens. Inquisitor,” he murmured, nodding at her and then hurrying away.

Miri reached a hand up to touch the flower tucked into her hair. “Thank you,” she whispered after him, far too late. He was already gone.

[ao3feed-spirk]

You Know I'm Gonna Be Around you All About you Always by your side

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52795603 by JumbleBumble “Spock heaved out a long sigh as the door to his quarters closed. He had hoped he’d have more time to prepare something- anything. It was a statistical anomaly to have a cycle as short as 6.33 years, but not impossible. Truthfully, Spock had hoped his parents would approach him with a new betrothal. He hoped his father would spare him the shame of having to ask; the indignity of acknowledging his failure. “If this really is… Would you like me to set a course for Vulcan, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked nervously. Spock fixed him with a frown. “It would be pointless,” Spock began. He tried to mask his tone to its usual blandness, but his anger and disgust slowly bled through, “What is there for me to return to? A woman who rejected me? The guidance of my father? I highly doubt he could find a sane vulcan— any vulcan who would agree to an arrangement with me in these circumstances.” “I have to do something, Spock.” Jim said quietly.” *** Spock is caught off guard by his second Pon Farr. Naturally, his friends are tripping over themselves to lend him a hand. Words: 2008, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Multi, M/M Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock Additional Tags: the relationships are in order of appearance btw, just in case you were wondering, Pon Farr (Star Trek), Fuck Or Die, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, eventually, First Time, Idiots in Love, they're all so oblivious, Oblivious, Minor Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Leonard "Bones" McCoy-centric, Vulcan Biology (Star Trek), Vulcan Kisses (Star Trek), Implied Sexual Content, I'm still deciding whether or not I'll finish this with a real sex scene, they're so hard to write pls, No beta we die like redshirts, Not Beta Read read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52795603

[ghostofskywalker]

I write fics just for myself but I actually uploaded one today and it's not even showing in the tags what the shit : ll

that is the worst feeling!! it can take i would say up to a few hours for a fic to appear in the tags though, i recently had that issue where i posted a fic and it didn't show up in the tags until about 2 hours later. i would just keep checking every once in a while? if you're a new blog it could take longer too, tumblr may think you're a bot

also i highly doubt it's this but i occasionally experience something i've dubbed "tumblr time out" - where not only do none of my fics/posts show up in any tag (even previously posted fics are gone), but not a single person i tag actually gets the notification. however, the true kicker to that is that once the clock strikes midnight on the next day everything goes back to normal and i can tag again (which is why i jokingly call it "time out"). i can usually tell when i'm being time-outed if i can't tag myself, so if you have two blogs i would suggest attempting to tag your other blog with your writing blog to see if it's that (but like i said, this is rare)

[anxiouslynumbme]

Hi, everyone! Hope you're all doing well. I'm a newbie, and I've been caught in the Chenford web. I've got some things about Chenford I'd like to say, but I figured it would be too much for my first time here. This takes place some time after the double date, and I'm pretty sure this concept has probably been done a lot before, but I hope you still like this. Anyway, this is poorly edited. Also, I'm sorry about the characterization of it all, still getting the hang of writing them and all that.

Read on AO3.

Hope you enjoy! :)

**************************************************

You Disturb My Natural Emotions

"Tim was quite familiar with avoidance, had been familiar with it ever since he could remember. It was a successful tactic to shield himself, and it had proven useful to him for many years, with many things."

It took him a long time, but Tim was finally sorting out his feelings for Lucy.

**************************************************

Tim was quite familiar with avoidance, had been familiar with it ever since he could remember. It was a successful tactic to shield himself, and it had proven useful to him for many years, with many things. Until it stopped being of use, and slowly shit he'd kept under lock and key started to seep and slip through the cracks. Every now and then, something from long ago would rear its ugly head before spearing through him until he dealt with it.

His childhood wasn't something he ever wanted to dwell on. But that box inside, where he hid things that he'd kept buried, would protest, shake, and fight until it found a tiny crack, so it could shine a light on some aspect of his life, causing Tim to ruin it. Because shit always caught up with you, and it was never just to say hello. It needed confrontation. And talking to, and working through. And whole lotta things that Tim didn't appreciate.

The way it affected his life, affected his work, Tim was finally realizing the importance of acknowledgment. That he should've told his mother about his cheating father. That he should've stood up to him more. That he shouldn't have brushed the epidemic of sexist and racist cops under the rug. It was one thing when it only had an impact on him, but when it had repercussions on the people in his life, Tim drew the line. He couldn't block everything and expect life not to retaliate.

Tim had been fine until Ashley split open one of the boxes, a box that was never meant to see the light of day. It was to be kept in a dark room, by itself. Forever. But now, things were all over the place, and it felt harder to breathe every time he opened his mouth. Maybe, he needed to talk to Angela; she would sort him out. No, that was out of the question. Tim couldn't let people know about this. It was enough that he was forced to acknowledge it.

It should've hit him earlier. Maybe it did, but Tim never actually let it. He was so Goddamn good at controlling and compartmentalizing his emotions that he was able to avoid dealing with them. In retrospect, it probably washed over him in waves. There were those damn cracks–breaches that Tim begrudgingly noticed along the road.

The first moment Lucy Chen turned around and met his eyes over her shoulder. Something deep inside him gave a very slight jerk, as if something disturbed it from a long sleep, causing this funny feeling to erupt within his soul. Tim wasn't going to lie and pretend that he didn't immediately take note of her beauty. That was normal; Lucy was a very attractive woman, and that was that. But then, she started talking and Tim was annoyed with her. Mainly because he was impressed from the get-go by her work ethic, but also, her disarming charm. Her fucking smile. That was incredibly annoying.

Lucy was different from the start. He trained his fair share of rookies, but she was the best of them by far. Tim had developed this fierce, bizarre excitement every morning, knowing that he was going to work and see her, exhilarated that he got to do his favorite thing with her. His relationship with her was just. . .different. No other way to explain it.

Tim wanted to blame Lucy. To simply say that she inserted herself into his life. Maybe she was too open, too forward, too trusting, too intrusive. But no, Tim played his part. He let her. He didn't mind it. He liked it. Lucy was unashamedly herself. Seeking his approval without ever trying to change for the sake of it. A thin line to walk, but she perfected it. No matter how many times she questioned, or second-guessed herself, she always found her authenticity in the end. Her own methods, her own path. Lucy was tough, yet it didn't make her jaded. She would kick ass, prove him wrong, and still smile widely and ask him about his day while telling him about hers. Lucy didn't hide. Which was why Tim was ninety-nine percent sure she didn't return his feelings.

The thought of it was a joke to her. She had literally made a joke about it. Making a point by saying something that was apparently absurd enough to hit the target.

Tim should've realized just how different he was with Lucy when he accepted her invitation to paintball. Having fun and going anywhere that wasn't related to work was never something that Tim did with rookies. Ever. That was probably the first domino that had fallen.

He now remembered a much bigger fissure, though. One that he shut down fast and ended before it took root. When he was exposed to that horrific virus and locked in a room with a dead body. Tim was thinking about Lucy, about how relieved he was that she wasn't in there with him, which might have been a natural reaction for any TO. What wasn't natural were his morbid thoughts of never seeing her again. Of how much he was going to miss her wherever he was going after death. The way his heart was beating out of his chest when the door opened and she was there, her face filled with concern for him. Tim couldn't stop looking at her.

So naturally, he had been an asshole to her afterward. She shouldn't have had sent him food and she shouldn't have had lied for him in that report. It'd pissed him off all the more.

And yeah, Tim didn't particularly like it when Lucy mentioned any guy she was into. Tim avoided confronting that one quite well. He was protective by nature, wasn't he? Except what he felt during those times wasn't in his nature–it was foreign. He didn't feel that with any of his previous Rookies. Whatever it was, it was forceful and overwhelming.

The spark of jealousy that had been ignited when that piece of shit Caleb had appeared at the station. And because, unlike Lucy, Tim mostly chose to hide, he had deflected, had pushed her to go out with him to prove he was just being 'overprotective TO'. But he never cared about his rookies' love lives. It hadn't made sense then. But now, Tim was having epiphanies left and right, and he could see the reasoning clearly.

And then, he lost her. For hours, Tim had to face a world where Lucy was no longer a part of his life. He had to deal with that for those gut-wrenching, agonizing hours where he had believed that she was dead. Anyone who remotely knew Lucy would've been angry and sad. But Tim's world was collapsing around him, his lungs weren't functioning well enough to draw in a breath. Legs so weak with fear and panic, it was a miracle he'd been able to walk, to focus enough to find her. Because he had to find her, anything else was unfathomable. And this abyss of sadness had enveloped him until she was finally in his arms.

To this day, he didn't know what he would've done if she hadn't made it. Tim didn't think the panic that had gripped him would truly ever be gone. He still didn't breathe properly until he saw her walk through the doors of the station every morning. And on their respective days off, Tim always made up an excuse to text her about something or the other, just to make sure she was safe and sound.

Tim wondered if Lucy knew why he did that.

When he turned down that opening for the Sergeant position. Yet, another thing Tim buried deep down with the excuse of his responsibility to a rookie. It was all catching up to him now. Because it didn't feel right to leave her so soon after what had happened. He also loathed the idea of anyone else training her.

Of course, his own private hell started after. Because suddenly, Tim couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering into very dangerous territories, territories he was aware of but terminated two seconds after seeing her for the first time. But they could no longer be ignored. The dirty dreams and thoughts had begun, and there was not a single thing he could do to stop them. Tim was furious at himself. However, he was still really good at denying shit, so he chalked it up to sexual frustration; he just hadn't had sex in a really long time. Or so he kept telling himself.

The whole thing made Tim sick to his stomach, really. Because it was very unfair that he had feelings for his partner. His ex-rookie. His now Aide. Whatever. It all led to the same road. They worked together.

Fuck. Just. . .fuck.

Lucy rubbed off on him because he now believed he had been going through all the steps of coping to accept the way he felt about her. How much he felt for her. Tim went through all the stages so far, but there were mainly anger and severe denial. And now, Tim had reached acceptance. He couldn't hide it anymore, not after everything he had realized. That disaster of a double date was the straw that broke the camel's back, apparently. It had forced him to confront emotions that he was unwilling to face before.

It was inescapable. It wasn't fair to anyone involved. But especially, Ashley. Now that Tim was fully aware of the depth of his feelings for Lucy, he may have been, basically, emotionally cheating on his girlfriend, and that wasn't how Tim operated. At least, after their talk, Tim was pretty sure they were over. Which was never fun, but it especially sucked because he really did like Ashley. Unfortunately, not nearly enough to erase this suffocating heat for the beautiful woman he was currently staring at across the room.

Lucy was chatting animatedly with a fellow officer, probably charming him endlessly like she did everyone. Tim was subtle, he knew that. He was used to watching her and not being noticed. But it was getting harder ever since he faced his own heart. A part of him wished he kept his feelings dormant, hidden. But the other part of him was fucking relieved at finally admitting it to himself, at least. As cliche as it sounded, he felt free.

Probably sensing his stare, Lucy twirled his way with a grin. Maybe Tim was being a little pathetic, but he felt as though her smile got brighter when she looked at him. His heart constricted in his chest at the sight, and his lips betrayed him by smiling back. Lucy arched a brow at that, tilting her head in question. He shrugged as if to say; what, I'm in a good mood today. Sue me.

Lucy's smile widened, shaking her head slightly before going back to her conversation. God, he wanted her near him. He just wanted her. It actually felt like an itch right then, and he debated going over there to interrupt. But his brain was conjuring up images that were not suitable for work, and he couldn't really move. His eyes suddenly couldn't stop scanning her body, imagining kissing, sucking, licking every inch.

"Shit." Tim breathed, closing his eyes tightly. This was not good. He had to get it together. Deep breaths, Tim, deep breaths.

"What's wrong?"

Lucy's voice snapped him out of it, his eyes finding hers immediately. "What do you mean?"

"You look so stressed all of a sudden, you seemed like you were in a good mood a second ago."

"I am."

"Hmm, you sure?" she leaned into him, squinting her eyes. Her scent wafted around him, making him inhale involuntarily as his groin tightened. Hoping nothing was showing on his face, Tim sent her a deadpanned look.

"Yes, I'm sure. Ready to finally get back to work? Or you just wanna chat to your new best friend some more?"

"Whatever." Lucy rolled her eyes, before turning to walk away muttering 'good mood, my ass' under her breath. Which was ironic, since Tim was currently staring at said ass. He really needed to get a hold of himself. Especially at work, Tim could indulge in fantasies of himself gripping her ass while his cock drove into her later.

Stop it, Bradford. Stop it. What was happening?

"I thought we needed to get back to work," Lucy called from over her shoulder.

Yes, they did. They really did. Tim needed the distraction.

It wasn't quiet too long in the shop, three minutes in, and Lucy was talking away. Tim had found it agitating at first, but it was a disturbingly short amount of time later that he began to find comfort in her conversations. Tim found himself responding, telling her things about his life. Voluntarily. It was unnerving, and he couldn't stop. Didn't want to. Tim let her voice cascade over him as she told him about a new book she just couldn't wait to start reading during the weekend.

"You're not listening to me, are you?"

"Sure, I am," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Oh, yeah? What was I talking about?"

"How underrated silence is."

"Tim, come on."

"Come on, what?"

Lucy huffed. "Fine. You know what? I won't say anything else for the rest of our shift. How does that sound, Sergeant?"

"Unrealistic."

"You don't think I can do it, can you? All right, I bet you'll start talking way before I do."

Tim snickered. "Not this again. That kind of bet never works out for you, Lucy. You always say you could do it, but you never do."

The indignation on her face made him chuckle as she crossed her arms and turned toward the window. "All right. Not only will I be silent, but I won't reply if you talk to me about anything not related to work. And you will, because we're best friends, and you love sharing all your secrets with me."

"Shut it."

"Oh, I will shut it. Let's see if you can do the same."

"It'll be a challenge, for sure."

"Not engaging in this anymore."

"Hallelujah," he murmured, exaggerating his reaction as he sent a quiet thank you to the ceiling of the shop.

Lucy didn't respond. And then she didn't talk for a whole hour. Which was fine, until it wasn't. It would be one thing if she really wanted to stay quiet, but Tim hated the thought of her feeling like she had to. He missed her voice, his gut filled with anxiety at her silence. But nope, no. Lucy wasn't going to win this one, he actually needed to win this dumb bet. Gain a resemblance of control, no matter how ridiculous the situation was. Maybe if he talked about work, it would be fine. Tim smiled to himself, with that loophole, he could hear her voice and win whatever this was.

"Did you rewrite that report like I asked you to?"

Lucy simply nodded. Tim cursed under his breath; he was sure she going to go on another tirade about how that report was perfect and didn't need to change.

"Good. I think we should do some follow-ups from our calls the last couple of days."

"Sure."

It was sad how he rejoiced because of one damn word. And so it went on like that, Tim bringing up useless shit about cases they worked on recently, and Lucy either nodding or giving very passive, one-worded replies.

Tim doubted she had any idea that this whole thing was genuinely getting to him. He felt out of his element, trying to balance the pace, stop it altogether. Rattled and confused. His thoughts clanging on top of each other as he tried to understand what was he to do now. Recalling his conversation with Ashley, the pit in his stomach expanded.

**************************************************

Tim gaped at the woman sitting in front of him, trying to comprehend what she was saying. They were having a nice dinner and then she turned to him to drop a quick bomb.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Ashley casually took another sip of her wine. "Did anything ever happen between you and Lucy?

Anger was the first emotion that question evoked. Because he realized then, that his girlfriend didn't know him all that well. He would never cross that line.

"How can you ask me that?"

"It's a reasonable question."

"Reasonable?"

"Yes. You two have such a bond."

"A bond?" Tim scoffed. "She's my aide. Before that, she was my Rookie. That is all."

"Is it?" Ashley was staring straight into his eyes, and something about the sincere curiosity in her voice made him pause. His heart pounding in his chest. Things Tim didn't want to think about, things he thought he could dodge and duck until they went away–they were all clawing their way out.

"Ashley, I really don't understand why you would even think that."

"You're right." She exhaled slowly." You'd never do that. And I didn't mean to ask that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I just don't see - "

"What I should've asked was, do you have feelings for Lucy?"

The question slammed him in the chest, forcing him to physically flinch. That slight tug of something Tim had felt inside when he had first met Lucy was now trying to attack him. Tim opened his mouth to outright deny it on the spot, to answer with a firm, and definitive no. But nothing came out. Why were there no words?

Ashley's eyes lowered from his, hurt all over her face. "I knew it."

"No. No. Wait. No. Just stop. Knew what? Come on, Ashley."

"You can't answer it, can you?"

His chuckle was humorless, laced with disbelief. "Where is this coming from? You barely even see me interact with Lucy."

"I don't have to see that much to know, Tim. Did you know that she comes up in almost every conversation we have?"

"Yeah, because I work with her, Ashley. Most of my stories happen on the job."

"Tim, it's just I–I don't know exactly what it is. It's the way you talk about her, the way you are with her, I guess."

"I don't know what that means." Except, maybe, he did. He was starting to. And he needed to breathe first, gather his thoughts. Tim couldn't have this conversation yet.

"You're in denial if you don't see how you two are together. You're not just her sergeant and you know it."

Tim inhaled sharply. Something was beginning to set loose in his chest, and he didn't like it. His mind whirled with her words. Denial. The word seemed to set him off. "Look. Okay. Fine. We've been through a lot together. We're friends. I–I care about her, and we're friends, okay? But that's as far as it went. As far as it'll ever go."

Ashley just shook her head, pain still etched on her face. But now there was almost a pitying look in her eyes, too. "Tim, it's okay. Feelings don't have rules. You can't control them. The more you try to, the more it'll suffocate you."

Tim heard a thud in his ear, as though he fell down. But he was fine, still standing, silent in the face of this confrontation. Words failed him again. His brain trying to finally process and accept his heart all at once, all too soon. Tim wasn't ready. But he was in this moment with a girl he really liked, and he couldn't manage to spit out one syllable to defend his position. Because deep down, it was all viciously stirring, and it was warning Tim that he could lie to himself all he wanted, but to at least, have enough honor not to cause more hurt to Ashley and waste another second of her time.

However, Tim wasn't that good of a person, he felt raw. Exposed. And parts of him were trying to recoil, hide. Ashley had no right to tell him how he felt. In the grand scheme of things, they barely knew each other. "Ashley, I don't have feelings for Lucy. As I said, I do care about her, but that's it."

With that damn pitying look still in her eyes. "Tim, you really have to stop pretending."

"Fine, Ashley." he released a long breath. "You seem an expert on how I feel all of a sudden. But let's try turning the tables for a second. I think you're using this whole thing to end it with me. Because after that date, you realized I was too boring for you. I'm not spontaneous or adventurous enough, right?"

"Wow, really? Tim, you're a lot of things, boring isn't one of them. But you are right. That date opened my eyes. You're never that comfortable with me. Or open. Or laughing that hard. You were just . . .different. You didn't pay me any attention, you know that? I mean, I was sitting right across from you, and yet you had to strain your neck all night because you couldn't look away from her for more than a minute."

"That is ridiculous!" his heart was beating way too fast now. Even if he could find the words, there was no reply to that, not a logical one.

Ashley sighed, rubbing her forehead."Listen, Tim, I like you a lot. But I can't stay when I know that, eventually, you'll start to finally see it. And by then, it'll hurt way more."

"Ashley, there's nothing going on with Lucy. I don't have–I don't. I can't," he whispered, the words leaving him like a confession.

"I know. I know. You're very set in your ways, I get it. So give yourself some time, Tim. To process this, and really think about it. To face it however you need to," she paused. "And if you want, you can call me after a week or so. And if you don't, well, I'll know that we're done. You're off the hook."

The throbbing in his head wouldn't quit. Tim shut his eyes briefly, rising to his feet, too agitated to be in one place. "Ashley, just stop it for a minute."

Ashley stood up, too, rapidly collecting her things. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I think I'll just go now. Take care of yourself."

Two seconds later, she was gone. Leaving Tim with his chest wide open, and nothing was blocking it now. Any of it. It was all leaking out. It took one person to actually call him out on it, and it unleashed everything. Tim slumped back on his couch, staring vacantly at his living room wall.

Fucked. He was fucked.

**************************************************

Ten days had passed since that night. And it was quite safe to say Tim wasn't going to be making that call. It didn't matter that he was still sputtering in a pool of confusion, Ashley had nothing to do with it. And if he were being honest, Tim felt relieved that it was over. He still felt like he needed to call her to end it properly, even if he was, technically, off the hook.

Tim chanced a glance in Lucy's direction to find her smiling at her phone, and Tim hated himself a little for wishing he was that phone, or whoever was making her smile at it. What was wrong with him? The air in the shop started to feel a little stifling.

"We're going to lunch," he told her.

Nothing but a nod in response. Fantastic.

Five minutes later, they were ordering food, and the second he sat down on the table and began to munch on his fries, Lucy frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, eating."

"You never sit with me."

"Never is an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"It's really not."

"I'm sitting with you today."

"You're not winning this. I won't talk to you."

"My day just keeps getting better. Thanks, Chen."

Tim was gonna get her to talk by any means necessary. Tim liked her aggravated, but at that moment, these jabs between them left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe because they weren't always just playful banter. Sometimes, a part of the way he was with her was intentional, but she didn't know that. Lucy was sharp as hell, but Tim still hoped she didn't realize that he was dismissive on purpose, to keep her at arm's length. Who was he kidding? She knew him too well.

Lucy eyed him suspiciously, and then looked away. "What's the catch, Tim?"

A pang clutched and kneaded his heart. It hurt that she didn't believe that he just wanted to sit with her. That was his fault, he had to own it.

"Lucy," he said, waiting for her to meet his gaze, letting her see his sincerity. "There's no catch. We're just eating lunch. No big deal."

"Yes. No big deal." her tone indicated that she, in fact, thought it was a big deal. Hell, she spent a night at his house and she didn't act like this. He immediately tensed up at the memory of that night. It was amazing how much the brain could block something you wanted it to shield you from. And Tim tried so hard to do it. Block his actions, resist the longing, the fire that seemed to simmer hot and heavy beneath his skin. Tim remembered how much he wanted to stay close to her, hug her, comfort her until she didn't feel as sad anymore. And as inappropriate as it was, for so many reasons, he remembered how much he wanted to kiss her. How much he simply wanted her, like a fucking craving.

Lucy looked at him, and Tim knew she noticed that his body language had changed. A pleasurable shiver went through him at the fact that she knew him that well, that she sensed the mere shift in his demeanor.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." he swallowed another fry.

"Stop acting weird."

"I'm not acting weird."

"Yes, you are. Ugh, you're so frustrating!"

He couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face as he met her eyes. "Eat your food."

"Don't tell me what to do." She grumbled before reluctantly picking up her sandwich and taking a bite.

The silence after was comfortable as they ate lunch together. It was peaceful to just look at her, but after a while, he needed her voice, too. So Tim decided to share the first thing on his mind.

"Ashley and I are breaking up, or we broke up, I guess."

Her head shot up, a confused expression on her face. "What? Wait, you guess?"

"Actually, it's a definite breakup at this point."

"But you guys barely started. And I just started to really like her. What did you do?"

"Why do you think it was something I did?" It was, but she didn't need to know that.

"Tim."

"Lucy."

"What did you do?"

"It was mutual."

Lucy snorted. "Please, you know that it's never mutual."

"That's not true, I've had mutual breakups before."

"Highly doubt that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Relax. It's a compliment."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep," Lucy smirked. "I assume you'd be very hard to let go of, Sergeant Bradford."

His pulse quickened, goosebumps spreading over his skin. Tim knew she was probably being sarcastic, teasing him, but he couldn't help but respond to her mock flirting.

"Damn straight."

She chuckled lightly. "Seriously, what happened?"

There was no acceptable way to answer that question and not give away anything. "We just wanted different things."

As in she wants me, but I want you; he thought to himself.

"How original. Was it also you, not her?"

"We just didn't work."

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "There's something you're not telling me."

"All right, we're dropping this now."

Lucy sighed. "Okay, sorry. You just seemed to really like her."

"Yeah, well. Feelings change, right?"

"Right."

His eyes were glued to hers, and he felt it all the way to his toes. His gaze roamed her face intensely; she was too damn gorgeous. His entire body was tingling, burning a little from the fervor he was experiencing. His fingers twitched, a strong desire to touch her, to just feel her. Moments passed with their eyes locked, maybe seconds; could also be hours. Who gave a shit. Tim could do this all day. Abruptly, Lucy cleared her throat, and with slightly reddened cheeks, she got up.

"We should probably get back to it, yeah?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and Tim?"

"Yeah?" Tim was completely unprepared when Lucy bent down and leaned into him as she was passing by his chair.

"I totally won."

Her breath brushed his ear, causing a shudder to shoot straight to his cock. His own breath hitched as she nonchalantly made her way to their shop, her laughter ringing in the air.

A vibration on the table snapped the stiffness out of Tim's bones. He looked down to see Lucy had forgotten her phone, and Tim chose to believe that maybe she was as rattled as much as he was by their earlier moment. Lucy never forgot that thing. Tim went to pick it up and paused at the name that flashed on the screen. Chris. Tim's hand tightened on the phone, he almost forgot that they were kind of going out. Another thing that was technically his doing. Was he the person that caused her to smile down at her phone earlier? Were they getting serious?

No, no. Lucy rarely ever mentioned him. Tim didn't like the feelings that were bombarding him, the jealousy that once sparked, it was now aflame in his blood. Tim hated this. At least, when he pretended that he felt nothing, he could also easily ignore the jealousy that arose from time to time when she started seeing someone. It was easier to dismiss the yearning, the want. The ache. But since Tim was fully aware, and completely in now; everything he was feeling was demanding to be heard, to be shown, to be acted upon.

But he couldn't act on it. Ever. It was all too complicated from every angle he tried to look at. Too many reasons why he couldn't do anything about it. But every time he looked at her, those reasons kind of vanished. Didn't mean they weren't there, eclipsing all possibilities. Tim just had to deal with it. Had to deal with the fact that he would be sitting next to Lucy every day in close proximity–torturing himself slowly.

Tim would never know what it was like to touch her, kiss her, or hold her. A thought suddenly invaded his mind, a thought that was so repulsive to Tim, that he staggered back a step. What if he had to let Lucy go as his Aide because of this. No, he couldn't do that, then they would have nothing. Tim needed her in his life. He needed her to be his partner; he trusted her more than anyone. Maybe that was the other part of it all–why he denied what he felt for so long. The fear of losing her all at once. The fear of losing that connection they had when they worked together, that she would be gone. Tim couldn't handle that. They were infused together now. She was ingrained within him; he didn't have a choice anymore.

So, Tim would bear it. Because there was no other option. He was going to have to live with it. He'd bear the pain of never having her, so he could keep her.

No matter what.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Vice Dorm Leaders: S/o who is insecure about their vitiligo (1)

HAHA- SO UM- I found this in my drafts and completely forgot about it ;-;;;; BUT HERE I AM- Yeah I just added this part- :///// I was too lazy to tag and eventually forgot about it- until now-

According to google, vitiligo is a skin condition in which the melanocytes, the pigment cells of the skin, are destroyed causing affected areas to turn pale. I just want you to know that you are beautiful no matter what! Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise! Hope you enjoy! ^^

(Trey, Ruggie, Jade)

Trey Clover

Trey always wondered why you want to wear a mask and long sleeved clothing. Basically clothes that cover your entire body. Don’t you feel stuffy wearing them? Do you feel comfortable???

You always told him you’re okay, and he didn’t question afterwards. Maybe it’s just fashion choice, and he doesn’t judge. He just wanted to make sure you don’t feel itchy.

But the first time he made for you something (the marron tart event before Riddle’s overblot), you told him that you rather eat in private. He didn’t suspect anything at first, merely letting you do so, 

but then he notices how frequently you missed or forgotten to take your meals when you’re alone, and that you just refuse to take down your mask to eat in front of others.

Now he was starting to get worried.

Trey would then resort in giving a gentle approach, he doesn’t want to be bold and just force an answer out of you, he would never do that.

During one break time, he’ll pull you aside. “S/o, can we talk? Someone more private maybe?”

Trey brought to a secluded area, he still spoke in a soft tone as if there were still people around just to make sure it really is private between you two. He looked at you with soft, amber gold eyes, “Is... everything okay? You keep forgetting to eat. Why don’t you like eating in front of others?”

You were taken aback, and Trey could tell you were hesitant about giving him an answer. He rubbed your back in soothing circles, calming you and telling you to take your time.

You eventually took of your mouth, showing him the pale patches on your skin, explaining how you don’t like anyone seeing your vitiligo, in fear of them judging your appearance. He frowned upon seeing how ashamed you look. He took a hold of your hand, now seeing the very faint mark of a pale patch. He rubs them gently in circular motion, looking at you with a soft gaze as he placed a tender kiss on one of the pale patches that etched on your cheek, the warmth of his hand spreading across your cheek. “S/o... please don’t think your condition makes you look weird that you don’t eat in public and then you forget to eat on your own. I think you look fine the way you are, honestly.”

Nowadays, Trey follows you every break time, as he’s there to encourage you to take off your mask and eat in public, and soon to take off your mask wherever you go in general.

Anyone who snickers about how weird you look would be met by his golden, sharp glare, enough to warn those who are smart enough. If not, he’ll tell Riddle and it’s off with their head. He just wants you to know you’re beautiful the way you are <3

Ruggie Bucchi

At first, he didn’t really thought about much. He just thought that man, don’t you feel stuffy wearing masks and covered clothing wherever you go?? Even during PE and in Savanaclaw? Well, if you said you’re fine, Ruggie wouldn’t think much of it, thinking you just have your own taste in fashion. He doesn’t judge.

But then, when he cooked for you for the first time, you told him that you rather eat it in private, and your excuse being that you savor food better on your own. Ruggie frowned. You tell that to your peers whenever they offer you food. He didn’t expect you to give him the same treatment.

Again, Ruggie decides to dismiss it and respect your choice, letting you do what your comfortable with. But he starts to notice your habit of forgetting to eat afterwards when your alone, and that you sweat profusely under the hot sun of his own dorm and you refuse to take of your mask and sweater.

He’s gotten worried, and he was sick and tired watching your health deteriorate. Ruggie gotten impatient on what he suspects your hiding something, and he wants to know so he can help. The boy legit climbed up the tree of Ramshackle, which a strong and thick branch spread out to your room’s window, opting to bust through the open window. “Yo, s/o.” “R-Ruggie?! W-what are you doing here?!” You were startled, and Ruggie looked at you with serious eyes. He notices your mask was lying on the coffee table, and he finds you scrambling to get the nearest pillow to cover your face. He frowns, walking up to you.

“S/oooo, what are you hiding?” Being the Savanaclaw student he is, he was much stronger than you, taking away the pillow. You immediately set up a last resort defence, putting your hands up to cover your face. He got frustrated, trying to rip your hands apart, resting his forehead on yours.

You gasped, shocked and flustered by the sudden contact and he took advantage of it and uncovered your hands, revealing the pale patches that spread across your face. He was shocked, as were you.

“D-does it hurt?” he questioned, now grazing his hand carefully on the skin without pale patches. You meekly shook your head, “No, but... I just look weird, don’t I?” you whispered, looking as if you were about to cry, leading Ruggie to frantically comfort you. “H-hey... I didn’t mean to. I was... just worried, and also I just thought those hurt, not that you look weird. And you don’t at all!”

Ruggie thinks you’re just fine the way you are. Anyone during recess when he accompanies you, if he hears a snicker or whisper about how weird your vitiligo makes you look, he will really hiss and eye at them with a threatening glare. He’ll make sure you’ll be confident, and he would be there for you every step of the way. <3

Jade Leech

He always wondered why you wear baggy, long sleeved clothes and pants and masks all the time. You don’t feel uncomfortable or sweaty wearing such? If you said you were comfortable, he would doubt a little, but will dismiss it and allow you to do as you please, the thought would still linger in his head, however.

Jade’s scepticism would rise further when he cooked for you a special meal the first time he brought you to Monstro Lounge alone. he usually leaves food for you at Ramshackle, knowing you and him would be really busy. 

You told him you rather eat alone, and he wasn’t convince about the excuses you gave, but nonetheless, gave you a kind smile and heeding you words, but decided to observe you.

He notices how you frequently forget to eat by yourself when you return to Ramshackle, and how exhausted you look when your under the hot sun during PE, and yet refusing to take of your mask and jacket. He was worried, and highly suspicious. Your his s/o after all; your health and wellbeing is most important to him.

Jade decided to approach you like how Trey would; gently and less direct and bold unlike Ruggie. “My dear? May I speak to you in private about something? It’s something rather important that I wanted to share with you,” he says, flashing his charming and soft smile. 

Bring you to a quiet and secluded area, he finally spoke. “S/o... why is it that you refused to take off your mask even when you feel so uncomfortable? Are you.. hiding something perhaps?” As much as you love Jade, you can’t help but feel nervous when he asked you that all of a sudden, and he feels your uneasiness as you timidly shuffled your feet.

He coos, gently soothing you with a gloved hand on his shoulder as he gently coaxed you, telling you to take your time and tell him what’s going on.

You murmured, “I.. I look ugly..” He raised an eyebrow, quite shocked and confused about what you mean. “Darling, how could you say that about yourself? I think you look fine, my dear?” You looked at him hesitantly, before you peeled off your mask, revealing the pale patches of skin that flowered all over the bottom part of your face.

“I... yeah. I know I.. I look so bad...” he immediately takes one of your hand, holding it. The other hand held you cheek and wiped a tear that had threatened to fall from the corner of your eye, warmly rubbing a pale patch.

“Oh darling... you’re not ugly at all. You look wonderful, and you should care more about your wellbeing rather than your appearance, although I think you look splendid,” he whispered, using a gloved finger to gently caress the pale patch on your cheek with a loving gaze.

Oh, and if anyone dares to just make fun of how “weird” you look during lunch time in front of him, or when he makes you feel more confident to take off your mask, will receive a “personal chat” from Jade, maybe tossing Azul and Floyd into the fun, and they won’t ever think of uttering a single thing about how weird your vitiligo make you look. <3

[sole-soul-survivor]

2p and 1p England Imagines - Compare and Contrast (Pt. 2)

(Absolutely no one asked for a second Compare and Contrast between the 1ps and 2ps, but it's doing so well that I figure some people might actually yk, like it!)

Link to Part one: 2p and 1p America Imagines - Compare and Contrast

Gen info:

-Arthur has Depression

-Oliver is a Narcissist

- both are trans, Arthur is afab and uses He/Him pronouns, Oliver is amab and uses He/They!

1p England = Arthur Kirkland

2p England = Oliver (Ollie) Kirkland

Sealand = Peter

Sweden = Berwald

Finland = Tino

2p America = Allen

(TW: probably mentions of Cannibalism and depression)

General info: canonical ages, look like in their twenties, etc, (you get the gist)

Appearances:

Arthur has shaggy blonde hair that poofs up when humid. He has naturally dark eye bags that make him look chronically tired (tm), his posture usually depends on his mood but he generally tries to remember the etiquette he has learned over the centuries, when confident you can tell. Very posh looking posture and haughty to the bone. When he's feeling down he slouches easily and usually keeps his hands in his pockets. His aesthetic and clothing choice is either 80's grunge, or dark Academia, no in-between. He has his (thick) eyebrow pieced on his left side, his septum, and his ears pierced. He usually wears little diamond studs. He has a crown tattooed on his ankle. Has the very generic 'posh' english accent.

Ollie has strawberry blonde hair he sometimes dyes pastel pink! He usually takes a flat-iron and curls it up to be puffy- he gets inspiration for his hair from the 'fluffy altboy hairstyles' tag on Pinterest. He has a face FULL of freckles but they make him so self conscious he usually covers them up all together. His posture is either extremely bouncey and happy go lucky, to the point he almost literally skips instead of walks, or he's very deflated, will walk with a hunched back and slow steps (think of Pinky Pie's mood drops, yk?). His aesthetic is nearly Pastel Goth/soft boy, but primarily light Academia based. He uses clip on earings when he wants them because he's terrified of needles. And has that very boisterous Cockney-English accent.

Personality:

Arthur is a very fiery spirit but likes to appear he's calm and collected. Will absolutely do any dare but will call you an idiot for it the entire time. Man's has a lot of wisdom but is quick to anger, has a short temper for people who are ignorant. His anger never gets physical but usually manifests as a manic/depressive episode. He cares a lot how others perceive him and has a lot of self-doubt since his glory days of being a global super power came to an end. He has seasonal depression that actually starts in the summer (around July 4th, you understand why). He loves children but isn't terribly patient with them, can't spend more than a a few days with Peter before he sends him back to Berwald and Tino.

Oliver is usually very high-spirited, but honestly this guy is a little off his rocker in a not good way. He has a terrible problem with his self image and how he appears to others and tries very hard to come off as a doting, caring, whimsical character when he's mainly very brash and honest to the point he comes off rude without meaning to. He will go as far as manipulating you into believing he is these things by using tactics like guilt-tripping and villanizing himself to victimize himself. "I appreciate you thinking so highly of me, not many people ever do. So I'm glad you don't, because I wouldn't be able to deal with myself if you didn't like who I was." (Yk) arguably the darkest of all the 2ps in my opinion. Which is why I love his character so much. He doesn't have very many redeeming qualities and he knows it. He's also very easy to anger, but doesn't react violently (at first). His anger manifests as sobbing and crying to help get sympathy on his side, ESPECIALLY during an argument. When he notices that fails he will resort to a violent tantrum that sometimes ends up with a new batch of his secret ingredient cupcakes. (I'm still running with the idea he's a cannibal who forces cannibalism - which is why Allen is vegan). Pretends to like kids buy as soon as one doesn't do exactly as he says he can't stand their presence. Being a narcissist means he has to have control over his own life and those he's close to because they affect his life too.

Likes and Dislikes:

Arthur really likes shows like Doctor Who and Merlin

Oliver prefers anything related to Alice in Wonderland, and Hannibal

Arthur (canonly) can't cook or bake. But he makes really good teas.

Oliver is a amazing baker and owns his own bakery. But cannot cook to save his life.

In school Arthur preferred English and Social studies! Especially writing and reading as well as learning History (he's lived like 90% of it but he likes to make sure that people tell it accurately.

Oliver preferred Chemistry and physics. There's a lot of Chemistry in baking as well as making the drugs he laces his food within order to, aquire new ingredients if you know what I mean.

Arthur loves music and poetry, he loves writing both and will sing for you if you ask him.

Oliver hates swearing. He thinks it makes people look dirty and trashy which are terms he's tried escaping his whole life as he grew up on the streets A LOT. But thanks to that Ollie has a lot of street smarts that work out in his favor but against his victims.

They will not get along. Not even a little. Very very hard to deal with when together because they know exactly how to get under each other's skin.

Both practice magic and witchcraft!

Arthur leans more towards manifestations and tarot readings rather than spells and potions and such. He wishes he could perform actual rituals and séances but it simply is not his brand of magic.

Oliver is the opposite! He specializes in Dark and Black magic. Performs blood rituals and sex magic (though he's a total prude if he likes a person he actually wants to sleep with and will get very flustered if they ask. But he doesn't have a problem going to a bar and picking up someone to perform a sex ritual with). He I'd an expert at Glamor spells and potions.

Arthur has been on T for a LONG time and was able to get Keyhole top surgery thanks to his small chest!

Oliver has been on a very low dose of estrogen for a while and sometimes likes to wear sports bras under his shirts just because he enjoys how they feel!

(Let me know if you want more! I'll likely post more whether you ask me to or not lol. Might add to this one specifically in the future!)