#and as much as I would like to think I’d use that wisely

[angelatmidnight1]

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

A/N: I've had a stressful couple of weeks and wanted to write a quick story with ler!Astarion and lee!reader. This was inspired by one of the helping lines he has where he says "you look good helpless". @tickly-deer-boy here is a quick Astarion fic!

Summary- Tav is stuck, and Astarion comes to get them out of trouble. He had no idea that they were ticklish…and gods, is it entertaining. 

Paring- Astarion x Tav (platonic).

Word Count- 1.8k.

Warnings- None. But please note this is a tickle fic!

Tav grunted in frustration as they tried to wriggle free from the narrow space between the crates. Their movements only caused them to get more wedged in the spot. They were reaching forward, straining to reach Lae’zel’s outstretched hand, only to just be out of her reach. 

“K’chaki. I told you to go around.” Lae’zel grumbled in exasperation. She withdrew her hand. “We waste precious time while you struggle. At any moment, we could become ghaik.” 

“I know that,” Tav groaned and tried to launch themselves forward. They barely moved an inch, and now their waist was fully stuck between the crates. “It’s almost like you’ve been saying the same thing since we crashed! If you’d shut up and give me your hand, I’d be out of here already.”

“You cannot reach my hand,” Lae’zel pointed out as if it was as obvious as day. “And I have no time to wait and make up for your shortcomings. Had I known you would slow me down, I would have left you to your fate on the nautolid.” 

“And you would have no astral prism. You’d turn into a mindflayer before me,” Tav grunted and decided to change tactics, twisting their hips to try and dislodge themselves. It didn’t work. Lae’zel checked her pack, believing she’d been the one carrying it, only for Tav to give a mocking sneer. “Honestly, it’d be an improvement. You wouldn’t be talking so much if you had a mouth full of tentacles.”

Lae’zel scowled. She took a step forward, hand on the hilt of her sword. “You think it’s wise to provoke me in your position?”

Before you could challenge her, Astarion’s silky voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Now now, darlings. Let’s not turn our blades on each other. We’ve so many enemies we could stab instead..”

Tav heard the sound of his shoes crunching over gravel as he approached them. The sound stopped when he froze, taking in the scene of the trapped leader in front of him. “Oh. Oh dear. Someone’s gotten themselves in a spot of trouble, hm?”

Tav didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking. They bristled, and they would’ve turned to leer at them if they hadn’t been pinned at the waist. “Hilarious, Astarion. Truly. How about doing something useful and helping me?”

The vampire clicked his tongue. “My, so touchy. I’m almost tempted to leave you there. Who knows what a less friendly adventurer would do if they found you?”

“You wouldn’t,” Tav retorted. “You’d miss me too much. Who else would wake up day after day to tell you how handsome you are?” 

“Cheeky,” Astarion smirked. “Still, I’m not convinced to help you. If only there was a word you could say that would make me reconsider. Something like, oh, I don’t know…please?”

“To hells with that,” Tav palmed the sides of the crates and pushed at them. Besides the occasional, minuscule move, they remained right where they were. Their face contorted with exertion, and they heard Astarion snickering behind them. 

“That’s four words, and I'm not looking for any of them.” Astarion stepped closer and leaned against the crates. “But by all means, keep squirming. You look good helpless…”

The heat rose to their cheeks, or maybe that was from all of their struggling? Tav wasn’t sure. They gave up on pushing the crates and twisting their body to and fro. Then, exhaling through their nose, they grumbled, “Fine. Please help me, Astarion. There, happy?”

“Your groveling skills need work,” he snorted. “But it would be cruel for me to expect a grand performance in your state. So of course, my dear, I’ll help you.” Astarion moved behind them, hands outstretching to rest on their sides. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and he rotated them to determine the best angle to pull them from. The light touches sent shivers up their spine, though he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, Tav would’ve chalked it up to the cold. Astarion moved his hands higher, now resting just below their rib cage. His fingers slid along their skin, looking for gods know what, and they jolted.

“What are you doing?” Tav cried incredulously. Lucky for them, he couldn’t see the grin tugging at the corner of their lips.  Lae’zel had already stormed off, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Helping you. Obviously.” Astarion rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold, returning to their sides. This time, he was squeezing them in an attempt to get a better grip. “And I’d have an easier time if you would hold still.” 

Tav choked on a giggle. They did the opposite of what he said and fidgeted some more. Suddenly, the impossible feat of getting themselves out on their own didn’t sound all that impossible. “Forget it, Astarion. I’ll d-do it myself..”

“Nonsense. Stop squirming, and I’ll pull you out.” 

“No, but-” 

Astarion’s fingers ghosted over their stomach, and they squeaked. He froze, and Tav felt their heart do somersaults in their chest. 

“What is the matter with you?” Astarion took his hands away from their belly, fingers resting just above their hips. The confusion was as clear as day in his voice. “You’re acting as if I’m hurting you.”

Tav remained quiet. They feared that they’d end up giggling if they spoke. 

“Tav? Am I hurting you?”

“...No.” Tav hesitated, shaking their head. They wracked their mind for a plausible explanation. “It’s just, uh, your hands. They’re cold.”

“Cold enough to feel through your clothing?” Astarion raised a brow, tone flat. “Odd. You haven’t told me that before..”

Tav didn’t even believe the tale they’d spun. “W-Well, they’re just that c—ah!” Tav squealed when he lightly pinched their hip. “Don’t do that!”

They went to smack at his hand, but hit one of the crates instead. Although they couldn’t see it, Astarion’s eyes brightened with mischief. 

“Oh, now I understand…” Astarion grinned a predatory grin, rolling his knuckles against their hip. Tav squirmed, biting down on their lip to trap the impending giggles. “You’re ticklish, aren’t you?”

“Noho!” The word alone sent butterflies in their stomach. They brought one of their hands up to their mouth, their other hand uselessly hitting the top of the crates. “Damn it Astarion, just pull me ouhuhut!”

“I’m trying, Tav, but you’re not making this easy for me.” Astarion shuffled closer to them, now using his thumbs to deliberately knead into their hips. Tav gasped and giggled into their hand, feet stomping into the dirt. “It’s impossible to get a good grip with you kicking around like this..”

“You’re nohoht trying!” Tav argued, bucking their hips as Astarion kept kneading into them. The ticklish sensations surged through them like electric shocks, and it was harder to suppress their frantic giggling. “Gah! S-Shihihit! When I get out of hehehehre, you’re dehehehad!”

“I’m already dead,” Astarion snorted. “But do tell me, what is so funny? Surely I am not tickling you?”

Tav growled in between their giggles. They giggled harder when he changed tactics and squeezed their hips again, again, and again. Both hands flew to their mouth to muffle their squeals. 

“Darling,” Astarion purred, “I need an answer.” 

“Gohoho to hehehell!” The dam broke, and Tav giggled freely. They twisted and bucked as much as their trapped position allowed, clawing at the crates. “Stohohohp it!”

“Stop what?” Astarion feigned confusion, nails skittering along their waistline. “I’m only trying to help, just as you asked! You’re stuck in here good, I’m afraid.”

“Nohoho! I’ll f-freehehee myself!” Tav sputtered as he dragged his nails up their belly. They shouted and shook their head back and forth, laughing loudly. “Let gOHOHOhahaha!”

“I can’t do that, dear. That would make me a terrible friend,” Astarion tutted. He stopped scritching at their belly, teasing their sides with featherlight strokes. “And, while I’m on the topic, do you know what else sours a friendship?”

Tav’s laughter died down to short, breathless giggles. Their cheeks were well beyond flushed, and they fidgeted in anticipation. “I—hah—don’t know... what?”

“Lying,” Astarion grinned and gently pinched just beneath their rib cage. Tav squealed and bucked. “For instance, pretending not to be delightfully ticklish when you very clearly are.”

Tav’s eyes widened, panic flashing across their face. “I’m—I'm nohot—”

“Ah-ah, there it is again.” Astarion double downed on his efforts, kneading one of his thumbs into the side of their belly. Tav shrieked and kicked their legs uselessly, falling back into another laughing fit. “You are an insolent little pup, aren’t you? Lying is one thing, but lying to a friend? Lying to me?” 

As if they weren’t already stuck enough, Astarion wrapped his free arm around their waist, making it much harder to squirm or kick. He continued tickling their stomach, alternating between gently scratching along their skin with his nails and kneading with his thumb. He moved at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world. And, truth be told, he did. Tav’s laughter took on a more desperate note, and they threw their head back. 

“NAHAHA! Alright! Okay! I’m sohohohorry!” Tav shouted and pounded their fist against the damned crates. They doubled over, or at least made an effort to, and squealed with laughter. “I’m sohohohohrry!”

“So you are,” he hummed. “And yet, I’m not fully convinced. You’ve already lied to me once. Who’s to say you aren’t doing it again?” He dropped to his knees, lazily raking his nails down the backs of their thighs. Tav shrieked and kicked around even more. 

“I’m nOHOHOHohohot! I’m not!!” Tav grit their teeth and giggled madly. They tried to lift their legs out of his reach, but he chased after them with minimal effort. “PLehehehehease! I’m nohoht lying!”

Astarion laughed. “You learn fast. It’s still a no, though. I’m just gutted that you would lie to me.” He pretended to sound sad while he spidered his nails along the backs of their knees. Tav howled, curling in on themselves as much as possible. “After all of the time we spent together! After I offered to help you..” 

Tav cackled when one of Astarion’s hands snuck back up to prod at their belly. He swirled his pointer finger in random patterns, scritching just shy of their hip bones, around their navel, and ending at their lowermost ribs. He did the same thing in reverse, eventually settling back on the ground to squeeze and tickle their knees and thighs. His fearless leader was a puddle of squeals and giggles, and that’s one crime he was happy to be guilty of. 

“I CAHAHAHN’T!” Tav went back to pounding their fists against the crates, eyes shining with tears. “Astarion, plehehehehehease!”

After what felt like forever, Astarion stopped tickling them. He gripped their hips and, with one firm pull, dislodged them from their trap. They fell back into him, and he held them up, still by their hips. “There you are, you’re free!” he snickered. “You’re welcome.”

Tav exhaled, shutting their eyes. They were coming down from the ticklish sensations, chest rising and falling from each breath they took. They were still smiling a bit, so what they said next had very little bite. “Bastard.”

“Careful,” Astarion tapped his fingers against their hips, and Tav lurched forward. “We wouldn’t want this little secret to slip to any of our friends, hm?” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’m not sure how to phrase this question but I’ll try: if you were to use a twst character to describe yourself (like for example I think I’m like a mix of Riddle and Vil) who would you choose and why? Sorry if this is too personal!

Personality-wise, I think I’m most similar to Jamil and Rollo. I’d describe myself as pragmatic and mindful. Their flaws also transfer; I can be neurotic and fret over things not going my way, and I can be a hater when I want to be. I usually find myself looking after others, even though I find this to be an annoying task. A lot of the things I say are very low-key Jamil-coded. Polite enough, but could come off passive aggressive at times 💀 The Rollo in me comes out stronger when I’m commenting on how much skin is showing (like, in a fan art or clothing I’m looking at) and say it needs to be covered up. I mean it as a joke most of the time, but I genuinely would prefer outfits that cover as much skin as possible. I have a resting bitch face too 😂

In terms of interests, I think we all have a little overlap with Idia by default since being a fan of Twst already means you’re in the Japanese pop culture space. I also enjoy reading and reflecting on literature (which I guess is Sebek-like?). And I guess you could count my casual interest in makeup, fashion, and skincare as a Vil thing?? But as I said earlier, I the two characters I feel best represent how I think and behave are Jamil and Rollo.

[lesbiansanemi]

Google how to make peace with the fact that you will always be vaguely to extremely uncomfortable (depending on the day) with your body and how others perceive it until the day you die and nothing you do will ever change that

[fierykitten2]

So I just discovered Quaquaval’s Dream World artwork and it is absolutely fabulous! More fabulous than it normally looks, and it’s extremely fabulous anyway. This artwork almost makes me wish I chose Quaxly but I prefer Meowscarada so I guess I’ll just have to leave the fabulous gay duck in Nemona’s care. Also that means I only have to see Skeledirge in one battle because if I chose Quaquaval Nemona would’ve chosen the ugly croc. On the plus side, you know how much I love F-Zero? Well I may or may not have decided that Falcon’s starter would be the Quaxly line

[zannies-joestar-hut]

merl mei qi gets better with every appearance

[ectoplasmer]

ryou should. um. marry me. maybe

[norris55s]

a little party never killed nobody - lando norris

best friend(?) party girl reader x lando norris social media au

a/n: idk this is a brain dump of the feminine urge to party with lando in atrocious ways! this will include obscene amounts implied and photographed alcohol consumption so if ur uncomfy with that, i’d skip this one! fc is alix earle!

--------------------------------- Australia

landonorris

landonorris: straya points and the official inaugural party host, y/nusername

y/nusername

y/nusername: gday mate 🇦🇺🦘

danielricciardo: Never underestimating you again, the hangover on that plane was miserable

georgerussell63: I told you she’s a bloody party animal

y/nusername: that was pretty tame ngl

oscarpiastri: I was right, not joining was a better idea

y/nusername: u just hate fun

landonorris: feels like the season finally started

y/nusername: bring it on

daniel3.jpg

daniel3.jpg: Melbourne introduced me to the Y/N and Lando party world

--------------------------------- Japan

landonorris

landonorris: podiums make me so happy i start singing

y/nusername: i feel like you’re better at karaoke than at racing

landonorris: changing careers fr

yukitsunoda0511: Please don’t

y/nusername

y/nusername: jpop is awesome 🇯🇵

yukitsunoda0511: you're welcome

y/nusername: yuki san you are my idol

--------------------------------- Miami

y/nusername

y/nusername: in miami, bitch 🇺🇸

landonorris: not like my podium mattered or anything

y/nusername: baby girl i bought you your champagne bottles at the club as a congratulatory gift

maxfewtrell: She's right baby girl

landonorris

landonorris: good timessss lfg miami

oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: Miami was extremely good to us!

y/nusername: when will u let me throw u a party pookie

oscarpiastri: I think the wise answer is never

y/nusername: but it’s FUN and you should celebrate your podiums!

georgerussell63: Do not trust her, you will have a week long hangover

y/nusername: it’s been a YEAR let it go 😭

--------------------------------- Monaco

y/nusername

y/nusername: my best friend is a formula 1 grand prix winner and i’ve never been drunker (or happier). i fucking love monaco 🇲🇨

landonorris: 🧡

carlossainz55: I think I’m still drunk 🥶

maxverstappen1: same

oscarpiastri: same

landonorris

landonorris: last weekend dump. it was a dream come true (and i’m still drunk too)

y/nusername: now that we got your win out of the way, charles_leclerc monaco win when

charles_leclerc: I'm trying

y/nusername has posted her stories

--------------------------------- Spain

lando.jpg

lando.jpg: great weekend, could get used to winning and partying with them

y/nusername: vamos!

carlossainz55: 😛

y/nusername

y/nusername: bailando (bye-lando?)💃🏽 🇪🇸

landonorris: u couldn't have picked a better photo

y/nusername: i was barely able to walk, no

carlossainz55: Looking good!

y/nusername: i'm inclined to believe you're saying you look good, to which i would agree

landonorris: what

y/nusername has added to her stories

--------------------------------- UK

landonorris

landonorris: home gp win. it doesn’t get better than this.

y/nusername: i love you so much winner!!!!!! (fuck u for that photo!!!!!)

lewishamilton: Huge congratuations!

y/nusername: good times innit 🇬🇧

georgerussell63: I will never, ever be bullied into going out with you ever again

y/nusername: ...as i said, good times innit

landonorris: how come george and fernando get that picture and i look like a kpop idol

y/nusername: cause ur my baby girl fr

landonorris: what

fernandoalonso: Too old for this craziness, but thanks again!

y/nusername: what do you mean you were the life of the party!!!

y/nusername has added to her stories

--------------------------------- Netherlands

y/nusername

y/nusername: you think i’m crazy? you should meet maxverstappen1 three jägerbombs in. 🇳🇱

maxverstappen1: Let me tell you that you on five jägerbombs was worse, but you wouldn't remember.

landonorris: she’s like that without the alcohol too

y/nusername: wow okay drag me!

y/nusername has added to her stories

--------------------------------- Mexico

y/nusername: viva el tequila y viva méxico 🇲🇽

sergioperez: Respect!

y/nusername: i promise i don't down tequila like water all the time, i can also appreciate the flavor!

landonorris: she's lying

patriciooward: Can I join you next time?

y/nusername: you can join me any time!

patriciooward: Tonight any good?

landonorris: once again what

patriciooward has added to his stories

--------------------------------- Brazil

y/nusername: eu te amo 🇧🇷

carlossainz55: 😍

patriciooward: 🔥

landonorris: i am once again asking... what?

--------------------------------- Las Vegas

y/nusername: i girlbossed too close to the sun this time but a drunk fake wedding doesn't represent us as people 🇺🇸

user65: you are absolutely kidding THEY DID NOT GET MARRIED

oscarpiastri: Oh Jesus Christ pick up the phone

carlossainz55: Thanks for the invite!

maxverstappen1: That's a way to make controversy

user24: fuck a las vegas win, lando finally bagged the girl

user43: lando to carlos and pato: fuck around and find out

landonorris has added to his stories

--------------------------------- Abu Dhabi

y/nusername: season is over but we’ll be back (no accidental weddings this time) 🇦🇪

landonorris: could you stop posting on ig and come say what you want to eat

user52: cant you see the man loves you why did you unmarry him and say you're not marrying him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oscarpiastri: Don't make promises you cant keep

user 75: HELLO?

user 19: OSCAR?

[konpeitonom]

Can you please do NSFW alphabet but with curly! <3

captain grant curly nsfw alphabet.

nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader —

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; it’s always really fun writing for curly! i had a lot of fun writing this one in specific.. sorry for any mistakes. i don’t proofread but it is late where i am so obvious typos might have slipped through. doing jimmy next most likely as the people in my inbox call for it. hope you guys like this one, thank you for all the love!!

nsfw under the cut! minors do not read

a — aftercare, (what they’re like after sex)

— the best at aftercare! it is his biggest priority. he never wants you to feel used, if you ever did i think he’d feel absolutely horrible..

— he’d clean you up, bathe you if you wanted. water, of course- he’d make or order you something if you were hungry. whatever to make you happy!

b — body part (their favorite body part, and their partners)

— i said this in my general headcanons but tummy’s.. he loves placing his hands on your waist, caressing your ‘cute tummy’ he’d say.

— it’s not even a ‘this tummy might hold my kids’ one day thing. he genuinely thinks it’s the cutest and sexiest thing ever.

— besides that, i guess he’d like tits, thighs, the general. he likes everything! doesn’t really have a favorite.

— for his own? he’d have to say his back, or his arms. he works out! it’s canon (literally) so i think he’d be very proud of his body..

c — cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— who would’ve guessed.. on your stomach. lol. he’d like cumming inside as well, but only if it was safe too/you two were trying for a kid. but on your stomach he just.. he likes that sight, he really does. besides your cute facial expressions that might be his most favorite part!

d — dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

— i don’t consider this dirty, but he does. he’s jerked off to you many times before you got together. not a big deal, but to him it is.

— he probably feels an immense amount of guilt. like, ‘she’s not just a girl for me to ogle at.. she’s my friend that i’m so happened to be in love with..’

e — experience (how experienced are they?)

— all his relationships were the full on commitment kind. he is not really a ‘one night’ kind of guy. maybe a few times when he’s feeling it. so he’s had his fair share of experience.

f — favorite position (self explanatory)

— your legs on his shoulders! god, he thinks it’s so sexy. and it feels good too. and he can see your entire face. checks off all his boxes.

— but if you ask he’d say, “whatever your favorite is!” and would wanna do it always knowing it’s your favorite. he is a d1 people pleaser.

g — goofy (are they more serious in the moment?)

— i’d depend.. if it was night time and that felt like the mood, he’d be serious about it. like after a fancy dinner night out, all he wants to do is fuck you slow and nice. but if it was the morning, or a long day at work, he doesn’t mind if it’s less serious, per say.

h — hair (how well groomed are they?)

— he’s pretty well groomed, i’d say. i like to think he’s very cleanly.. it’s obvious he cares about his health and looks and the way it is down there counts too!

i — intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic wise?)

— ahh.. i’d really depend on you. his go-to is soft and romantic. he just loves you so, so much. if sex is the way you want to be shown love then he’ll do it.

— he’s very stereotypical. he wants to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, play with your hair, caress your body in all the right places as he sets a gentle pace. but if you prefer things a bit rougher, he doesn’t mind. just reassure him that it’s okay and that it’s what you want.

j — jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— as a teenager, i think he probably felt bad for jerking off. now as an adult he can understand that it’s a very normal human thing. he doesn’t do it often, especially when he’s in a relationship, but he’s not opposed to doing so.

— maybe once a week if you’re there (like swansea, he would rather just fuck), up to 3-4 if he’s working in space and all alone and such..

k — kink (one of their kinks)

— praise him. god please. he needs it.

— just one, “that feels really good..” or, “you’re doing so well..” gets him going!! he might stop and try to process it, his dick buried inside you as he lets out a long breath- he’s making you feel good? he’s doing that?

l — location (favorite places to do it)

— “anywhere you wanna” god he’s so annoying. unbearable.

— most likely the bedroom. he’s basic. but he’s open to anything semi-public. he just feels like he can love you best in the most intimate setting, your bedroom!

m — motivation (what turns them on)

— i think he gets turned on at the simplest of things to the point it’s funny.. like when you’re looking in the mirror and admiring yourself, you just look so cute and happy..

— and suddenly your skirt looks just a bit too short for comfort, and the bra you’re wearing looks extra nice on you. he’d feel bad, yes. how can he be so perverted when you’re just there- looking cute?

— but he can’t help it. he just wants you in every way he can have you.

— besides that, you straight up saying you want it is enough for him!

n — no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

— he’s a people pleaser.. if you’re into it, he’ll try it at least once. but for himself? hm. anything that feels too degrading is a no for him either. like free use? he’s not into that. he wants you to feel loved, not that you have to do stuff to get him to love you..

o — oral (preference in giving, receiving)

— giving.. he loves giving. i think it’s obvious. he loves when you place your hands on his hair, your legs squeezing him tight.

— mumble words of encouragement and praise and he’ll feel as if he’s on cloud 9!!

— he likes receiving too. but only if you like it. how many times can he emphasize that..? he does think you’re very pretty in your knees though.

p — pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

— soft and sensual is his favorite like i’ve said. he wants to feel every thrust, appreciate the way your body reacts to every small thing he does. he just loves to close his eyes and fawn over that feeling, it’s one of the best feelings in the world.

q — quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often)

— i think quite often they happen.. like he loves to make love, he really does. but with his and your busy work life, sometimes it’s needed.. if you’re pent up and stressed and need his dick right then and there, and quick? he’s willing!

r — risk (are they willing to experiment? do they take risks?)

— i think he is for your sake, but he’s confident in what he likes and stuff so he wouldn’t wanna try out anything new to his own accord. if he does then he’ll talk that out with you. your comfort comes first.

s — stamina

— if sex ends up being rough, maybe only one. it’s a bit of a mental load on him to be mean to you like that. but usually he’s good with two or three. anything past that seems pushing it.

t — toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on themselves or their partner?)

— he owns a few. only for his partner, not for himself. if you like toys then he’ll definitely utilize them but if not then he won’t force them upon you or anything.

— a bit of a throw away thought but remote controlled vibrators, the idea of it? kind of turns him on.

u — unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

— he likes to tease! just a smidge bit. not too much or else he’ll feel bad but it keeps the mood light and fun. i’ve mentioned somewhere he liked playful banter, so that kinda goes along with him teasing you and such..

v — volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

— he’s loud! he’s very vocal. when he’s feeling good he wants you to know that. grunts, groans, whines, whimpers.. but sometimes he holds it in and shuts up so he can focus on yours. he likes yours way more.

w — wild card (a random headcanon)

— perhaps.. once in a blue moon, he really needs it. rough and fast, with your hands scratching his back. Your legs are too sore to move, so they just lay there shaken up. it’s different when he’s doing it to please you in comparison to please himself.. you know? like it’s just so much better when he’s just a bit selfish.

x — x-ray (what’s going on underneath?)

— I'm biased. this is my blog, this is my favorite character, these are my headcanons. he has a pretty dick. it’s a nice color, nice to look at. it’s just pretty. 7 inches in length, regular thickness. ok bye

y — yearning (how high is their sex drive?

— kind of average or if not, slightly below average. he loves to show his love in many, many ways. sex is just one of those many things. he can live without it either. if you decided to go celibate, it wouldn’t change his life or anything. yeah, he’d miss it, but you come first.

z — zzz.. (how quickly they fall asleep)

— he has a lot of energy so i don’t think he falls asleep quick. even so, he’d make sure you fell asleep first- that you’re all taken care of before he can rest.

— also, for selfish reasons, he wants to stare at you and your pretty face, play with your soft hair as you sleep. if he could pause time, i’d be then. you’re just so cute.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 6

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5

In the next letter, Eddie makes no comment about their differing opinions. Chrissy knew he wouldn’t. She doesn’t know Eddie, not really, but he’s never seemed like the kind of guy who’d stop talking to someone over such shallow, small differences, no matter how he comes off in his little cafeteria rants.

       Secret Admirer,

       You’re enough, just the way you are, brown eyes and all. I bet they’re real pretty. I could look into them for hours, mesmerized by every color differentiation, spend days counting every one of your eye lashes.

       Just say the word—I’ll pick you up in my van and we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time. I’ll wear my silver jewelry, and you can wear gold. I bet your hands would look real pretty wrapped up in mine.

       I’ll be a gentleman, sweetheart, I swear.

       Only the best for you.

       Yours,

       Eddie

       P.S. Romantic meeting spot. I can’t wait to put this note right next to your heart. Next time maybe I can put my letter in Moby Dick. After all, you’re my white whale, baby, I’m always looking for you.

She likes Eddie, really she does, but the way Steve blushes as he hands the letter to her is ridiculous. The guy’s not exactly smooth, or suave, or any of the things that should leave Steve all hot and bothered.

Still, she dutifully helps him write his reply:

       Eddie —

       Maybe someday, we’ll get to go to that movie. When we do, you don’t have to be a gentleman at all—I’m easy, if it’s for you, and it would be such a waste not to make use of all that space in your van.

       I don’t have any rings, but if I did, I think I’d want one of yours. That way, whenever I look down at them, I’d be reminded of you.

       How was your day? All I want to do is ask and hear your reply.

       Yours, always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I’ll search the seas for you.

“I know he’s your friend, but I just don’t get it,” Chrissy says to Jeff, walking close enough to his side that their shoulders brush. “The guy looks like a mangy poodle, and he’s not exactly Shakespeare.”

Jeff snorts. “Hey, he’s at least a cute mangy poodle,” he replies, bumping their shoulders purposefully this time.

“I guess if you’re into that sort of thing,” she mutters, and somehow, Steve is. It still shocks her, sometimes, when she thinks about it too much.

“The heart wants what it wants,” Jeff says, sounding wise, but when she glances at him, he’s grinning, eyebrows jumping up and down at her like this is all just some joke.

She scoffs, “I just wish what Steve wanted wasn’t leading toward a broken heart.”

Jeff’s expression drops at that, mouth pursing. He’s quiet all the way to Eddie’s locker. She slips Steve’s letter between the slats and keeps walking, only stopping when she realizes Jeff’s no longer beside her. When she turns around, he’s staring at Eddie’s closed locker like it holds the answers to the universe.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, finally turning back toward her and catching back up with quick strides.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, at a loss for what to say. She can’t see it, but for all the letters she’s helped write, her and Eddie aren’t friends. She doesn’t know him as well as Jeff, who’s been by his side for years, or even as well as Steve, who watches him every chance he can get.

“Yeah, maybe,” she replies, unwilling to let any hope build, not when it’s Steve’s heart on the line. “Want a ride home?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jeff replies.

And when he slides into her passenger seat, she feels a little less alone.

The letters keep coming, and Steve keeps blushing and pushing them across the table at her.

       Secret Admirer,

       Oh, a flirty one, aren’t you? I like it. But maybe I’m shy, did you ever think about that? Maybe I want to walk you to your door, slide one of my rings on your finger, and give you a little kiss. You can pick the ring, baby—I’ll even resize it to fit you just right.

       My days are always brighter when I hear from you. I go to the quarry on Wednesday’s to peddle my wares, but all I want to do is go home and play my guitar (my sweetheart). I’m writing a new song and I really want to get it down by next week’s practice, but I’m stuck on a riff I just can’t get right.

       Do you play any instruments?

       Sincerely,

       Eddie

       P.S. You’re going to make me swoon, babygirl.

And Steve keeps responding using Chrissy’s pen and Chrissy’s brain, and his own bleeding heart.

       Eddie —

       My mom made me take piano lessons when I was little, but my dad refused to keep paying for them. I didn’t want to at first, but I really liked it. Maybe I’ll brush up my skills so I can play a song for you. Any requests?

       Does your band play anywhere? I remember you from the middle school talent show, are you still going by Corroded Coffin? I bet you look hot when you play—I want to see it, someday. Your rings would glint under show lights, hypnotizing the entire audience. Especially me.

       Did you figure out your riff? I’m waiting with bated breath.

       Sincerely,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. leave this one in The Taming of the Shrew.

She wants to build a cage and lock him inside, or shake him and shake him until he sees what a risk he’s taking. Jeff might not see it, his priorities are different. But her first concern is Steve, always will be Steve, whose heart isn’t the only thing on the line. And she can feel it coming—the moment, inevitably, when this whole thing falls to pieces.

       Secret Admirer,

       Have you read this play? It’s not the romantic story you think it is. Since you’re already holding the book, why not check it out? I promise not to look at the checkout card to figure out who you are (I say, unrepentantly lying).

       My band actually just got our first gig at the Hideout. It’s next Tuesday, and you should come! I would love to see you in the audience, cheering me on. I’ve been trying to respect your boundaries, but darling, I want to see you. Will you come? Please?

       Thinking of you, always,

       Eddie

Chrissy doesn’t want to stand by and watch Steve Harrington break.

*** 

Part of Eddie wonders if he won’t get another letter—if she’ll just show up at the Hideout next Tuesday with a smile. Still, when he hasn’t received an answer for a couple days, he checks if anyone’s checked out The Taming of the Shrew, but no, it’s still there, nestled on its shelf in the library, Eddie’s damning letter no longer inside.

He’s starting to wonder if he made a terrible mistake.

It’s happenstance, the way he finds out. He could have just as easily not forgotten his campaign notes. He could have been prepared, and not left all his little sheep moaning and groaning about what amounts to a five minute delay, if he’s quick about it.

He could have, but he didn’t.

Instead, Eddie stands at the end of the hall, transfixed, as he watches Chrissy Cunningham’s distinctive high ponytail sway back and forth as she walks away. From his locker. Where he just saw her slip something in.

She’s well out of sight before Eddie walks up to the looming hunk of metal on shaky legs. It takes three tries to get it open, and there, for all and sundry to see, is an envelope with his name written in a familiar scrawl.

He doesn’t open it.

“What took so long?” Doug gripes as Eddie shuffles back into the room, clutching his notebook to his chest.

Eddie walks slowly to his throne without replying, eyes still unfocused and fixed on the swishing of Chrissy’s hair.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asks.

Eddie shakes the thoughts out of his head, leans back on his throne, and smiles. “Sometimes a quester is besieged on his travels and must defeat a mighty foe before he can return from whence he came.” He says it with all the gravitas of his dungeon master voice.

Doug laughs, Gareth rolls his eyes, but Jeff’s eyes are narrowed on his face for the next ten minutes until he gets sucked into the campaign. And Eddie? Eddie’s heart isn’t in it. No matter how determined he is to put it out of his mind, it keeps sticking to his neurons.

Because Chrissy? She’s nice, sure. And pretty, definitely. Her hair’s…nice? Bouncy? It’s probably soft. And yeah, she’s a jock, but she’s not like most of them—too kind to give a kid a swirly or call any of the other girls fat.

Which brings him to the King of the jocks, Steve Harrington, whose name is practically branded on Chrissy’s shoulders by this point, whose arm is pretty much super-glued around her waist. Steve, with his perfect hair, and long eyelashes, and those big brown eyes, and all those muscles.

Something too squirmy to be hatred sinks in his gut. Jealousy, maybe? Because how could someone like him compete with King Steve for a lady’s hand, love notes or no?

He’s distracted for the rest of the campaign, says half-hearted goodbyes to the boys before finally closing the van door on them and driving away.

When he opens the letter in the safety of his bedroom, it’s shorter than usual:

  Eddie —

  There’s nothing more I want than to see you up on that stage, rocking out, in your element, but I’m just not ready. I hope you’ll forgive me.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. If you still want to respond, I’ll look in the big print edition of The Hobbit.

He goes over the words again and again, finger running along the lines of each character, trying to picture Chrissy pouring over them with her pen.  He loves all the words in all the letters, wants to carve them all on his skin, helplessly charmed by each vulnerability shared.

He can’t quite make the words fit the girl.

Eddie still drops his next reply in the big print edition of The Hobbit the next morning. He watches Chrissy all day. He’s surprised, somehow, when she meets his eyes once across the insurmountable distances between them in the lunchroom. She ducks her head immediately and blushes, even with Harrington’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

There isn’t another note by the end of the day.

“So, wait,” Gareth says, stoned out of his mind and sprawled out on Eddie’s bed after the hell they call education finally released them. “You’re saying Chrissy has been leaving you all those notes?”

Eddie spins around in his desk chair, but it’s not one of those fancy wheeled ones that Harrington probably has, so he’s forced to turn and straddle the back, letting his head hang over the headrest as he groans.

“For the last time, yes!” he says, more to the little bits of his carpet that he can see than to Gareth himself. “It’s Chrissy!”

Gareth takes another hit, blowing smoke toward Eddie’s ceiling to swirl around and join the rest of the stains up there. “Are you sure it wasn’t just someone who looked like her? How close to her were you?”

Eddie groans again, shuffles off his uncomfortable chair to flop beside Gareth and steal his joint back. “She was wearing a cheerleading uniform, man,” he says before taking a puff and letting all the smoke out with his next words. “And no one else on the team has that color hair.”

Gareth hums, twisting on his side to burrow his head into Eddie’s only pillow. “What is that color even? Like, blond but with a weird red in it? What’s it called, bluh-red?”

He laughs like that’s the funniest joke in the world, so Eddie doesn’t hand back the joint, just pulls on it until he’s down to the quick and ashes it on his nightstand as Gareth whines.

“It’s strawberry blond, you idiot.”

Gareth wrinkles his nose at that. “That’s a stupid name.”

Eddie smacks his hand out, lets it hit Gareth’s arm with a solid thwack. “You’re supposed to be helping me!”

“With what?” Gareth replies, rolling away from Eddie when he goes to hit him again. He ends up on Eddie’s floor, fall cushioned by all of his dirty clothes scattered about. “Just like, talk to her?”

“Chrissy Cunningham?” Eddie demands. Gareth doesn’t seem to be understanding the severity of the situation. “Whose head cheerleader and, oh yeah, dating Steve Harrington?”

“So what? The guy’s a douche,” Gareth replies.

Instead of getting back up on the bed, he snuggles further into Eddie’s dirty clothes, rolling around like a pig in a mud puddle until he’s got enough of Eddie’s discarded shirts on him to function as a makeshift blanket.

Harrington is a douche. He’s got to spend an obscene amount of time on his hair in the morning, and he hangs out with those hyenas on the basketball team all the time, and he’s Steve Harrington. Rich kid, lady killer, King Steve Harrington.

Maybe all Chrissy really wants is an excuse to leave him. If that’s what his lady wants, he will provide.

*** 

Steve’s been sitting on Eddie’s letter for a few days now, at a loss for what to say. He puts it under his pillow at night, hoping the perfect answer will come to him in his dreams. He finds himself unfolding it and refolding it again and again, wondering if the words will change.

  Darling,

  If you’re not ready, that’s okay. But the heart wants what it wants, and you can’t blame me for trying, can you? Even still, I’ll be singing just for you.

  Of course I still want your letters, never doubt that. They’re still, always, forever, the best part of my day.

  Always,

  Eddie

  P.S. Excellent choice in hiding places, have you read it?

It’s just, a big part of him had expected Steve’s dismissal of meeting up would end this thing they have. He’d braced for it, and instead, Eddie was sweet.

And Steve can’t give him what he wants, isn’t what he wants, so he keeps the letter with him and stews on it, Chrissy sending him worried looks when she thinks he’s not paying attention.

No matter how lost in thought he is, a part of him is always tuned into Eddie’s presence, so he sees him coming before Chrissy does.

“Miss Cunningham,” Eddie says, leaning forward like a gallant knight as he takes her small hand in one of his own. She jumps, eyes darting up from her lunch to meet Eddie’s own. “Can I have this dance?”

The rest of the lunch table titters. It might have been charming, if they were at a dance, or anywhere aside from shoehorned to the side of the table with all of Steve’s shitty friends laughing.

It might have been charming if Eddie’d looked at Steve at all.

Chrissy’s sure looking at him, though—eyes all wide in her face as she shifts her gaze back and forth from Steve sitting across from her to Eddie crouched at her side.

“Um—” is all she gets out before Jason stands from the far end of the table and starts taking threatening steps forward.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Freak?” Jason demands, chin raised.

Steve’s about ready to stand, insert himself in the whole thing, but then Eddie’s lips graze Chrissy’s hand.

Jason stumbles back like he’s been shot. Eddie grins against Chrissy’s skin, turns his gaze away from Jason, and lands on Steve. He can almost feel it on his own skin as Eddie puckers his lips again and presses another kiss to Chrissy’s skin, this time to the smooth surface of her wrist.

He never looks away from Steve.

“Um!” Chrissy says again.

Only then does Eddie break eye contact with him. He drops Chrissy’s hand, placing it gently back to the table, says, “until next time, mi amore,” and saunters away, continuing until he’s out of the cafeteria entirely.

Steve doesn’t look away until the door swings shut and blocks his view of Eddie entirely.

“What was that, Chrissy?” Jason demands. He’s moved closer while Steve was distracted, absolutely towering over her, looking more like a beleaguered father than an ex. “First Harrington, and now the Freak?”

Steve wants to defend himself, defend Eddie, defend Chrissy. But despite what Jason clearly thinks, she’s never needed defending, so he asks, “do you want to get out of here?”

“God, yes,” Chrissy sighs.

They leave their lunches uneaten and their tables unbussed, hustling out the same doors Eddie’d just sauntered through, leaving a scolding Jason in their wake. Something about devil worship and blaspheming?

Steve’s not exactly the church-going type; he’s just glad when the doors swing shut and cut off Jason’s little speech.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks in a whisper despite the deserted corridor.

“Jason?” Steve asks at his normal volume. “I don’t know, he’s always been a bit like that, hasn’t he?”

“Not Jason,” Chrissy snaps, slapping at Steve’s arm, taking any sting out of the motion by wrapping her arm in his after and reeling him right back in. “Eddie!”

Steve, who had sort of been hoping that he could pretend the whole thing had been a vivid hallucination, has nothing to say.

“Do you think he knows?” she asks, voice quiet again as she looks furtively around the deserted halls, for random passerby’s or even Eddie himself.

“About you?” Steve asks, stomach sinking even further when he continues, “or about me?”

Chrissy stumbles, eyes going impossibly wider at the thought. She pulls him into an abandoned classroom and pushes him into one of the uncomfortable chairs. She sits in front of him, looking across the desk between them like he’s a sad woodland creature she’d just hit with her car.

“He can’t know about you,” she says. “He was flirting with me.”

Steve grimaces. Chrissy’s too nice, always thinking the best in people like she doesn’t have Jason Carver as living, breathing proof that sometimes, beyond all expectations, people can suck.

“He could be fucking with me. Eddie seems like the type to play with his food.” Steve stares down at the grooves of the desk he’s seated in. Someone had carved FUCK on it in big, bold letters. Steve’s never agreed with a sentiment more. “Do you think Jeff told him?”

Chrissy shakes her head so hard that her ponytail whacks her in the face. “No way, he promised!” she reminds him.

Jeff seems like a good guy, but Steve’s not sure how far that goes. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to trust like that, not with this.

“Well, what do we do?” Steve asks. “Should you just flirt back next time?”

Chrissy bites her lip, worrying at the dry skin there until Steve taps her chin in reminder, and she puts her teeth back in her mouth.

“Maybe it won’t happen again?”

Steve sighs, thunking his head down against the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmurs into the wood, Chrissy’s hand patting his shoulder a paltry consolation to the nightmare he’s found himself in.

*** 

It happens again.

“Carry your books, my lady?” Eddie asks. He’s already got his hands out expectantly, but he’s too much of a gentleman to make a move without her say-so.

She watches his hopeful grin for a moment before sliding her pile of books into his awaiting arms. Once secured, he does an endearing little fist bump before taking up residence at her side like it's his birthright.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, almost sounding clueless enough to convince her, if it wasn’t for that little smirk on his lips.

Everyone in the hallways are giving them a wide berth, clearly shocked by the unexpected pair. It’s nice, almost, to be given so much space. But—

But.

“You know I’m with Steve, right?” Chrissy asks.

Eddie grimaces, like just hearing Steve’s name is enough to sour his mood. “What, is it illegal to walk a pretty girl to class now?” he asks.

Chrissy’s own mood sinks to the pits, and she sighs, disappointed. “No,” she replies before letting the silence between them linger uncomfortably.

Eddie’s fidgeting with her books, anxious fingers fluttering against the loose pages of one of her notebooks, and his eyes dart toward her every couple of seconds.

“Chrissy—”

“You know, for someone who spends so much time ranting about the status quo, you sure can’t seem to look past skin deep.”

Eddie jerks like she struck him. Chrissy would feel bad if she wasn’t thinking about having to tell her best friend about this in a couple hours. “I see you,” he murmurs, shifting on his feet and not meeting her gaze as he holds out her books for her to take.

When Chrissy sighs, he flinches again. “I don’t think you do,” she says, not sticking around to see how it lands.

She’s got class to get to, and a best friend’s heart to break.

Chrissy snags Steve’s hand before he can walk through the cafeteria’s swinging doors and pulls him the other way. They settle into the same, abandoned classroom in the same, abandoned seats.

“It happened again,” she says, not letting go of Steve’s hand.

He’s still got a bit of polish clinging to his nails, the chipped yellow making him look almost jaundiced with how patchy it is. She uses her own fingernail to chip at it, ignoring the sunshine yellow flakes dropping down to the empty desk separating them.

Steve doesn’t ask what happened again; he doesn’t need to.

“Did you flirt back?” he asks.

Chrissy bites her lip. “I let him carry my books.”

She hadn’t flirted, is the thing, but she hadn’t gotten rid of him either. She knew, no matter how heartbroken he looks across from her right now, he wouldn’t have wanted her to.

“Okay,” he says, like it really is, like he means it. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me!” she snaps, snatching her hands back for a second before the bewildered look on his face has her reaching out again. “What are you thanking me for?”

Steve smiles—it’s small, and sad, and he’s beaming it right into her soul. “For keeping me safe.”

Chrissy groans, dropping her head onto their clasped hands and just keeps groaning. He means it—of course he does. If there’s one thing she’s learned since this whole thing started, it’s that Steve Harrington is somehow, inexplicably, too nice for his own good.

“I love you, you know,” she says, lips brushing against his skin with every word.

She’s been thinking it since he’d called her his best friend in that letter, since he’d said it and she hadn’t said it back. It sits unsaid behind her teeth every time he smiles, or frowns, or anything at all. He’s just too dang easy to love.

When he doesn’t reply, she forces herself to raise her tired head and get a look at his face. His eyes are big and round, mouth hanging open far enough that she’s tempted to close it for him, and there’s a damning sheen to his eyes that makes her own water.

“Really?” he asks, voice cracking. “You do?”

“Of course,” she replies, the way he always does to her, no matter what she asks for.

He smiles again, and it’s big this time, happy and watery around the edges as he says, “love you, too,” leaving the “I” out of the confession like that’ll somehow make the whole thing less real.

They’re smiling at each other like damn fools when Steve’s stomach growls and they dissolve into giggles.

“Buy me lunch?” she asks.

“Of course.” He jumps up from the desk and holds out his hand for her, an unknowing mirror of Eddie this morning.

She doesn’t put her books into his arms, just takes his hand.

PART 7

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: During a car ride Joel attempts to hide his erection from you along with feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for his friend’s daughter.]

Smut, Angst

Getting a hard on for his friend’s daughter was not something he planned. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

When your father was killed, before he took his last breath, he made Joel promise him he would watch over you and keep you safe. Joel did just that knowing you had no one else. He and your father had been close friends for nearly five years, but he never really saw you around because you had lived with your mother growing up until right before the world ended. Of course, one thing Joel didn’t expect was just how much he began to like you yet, he knew you were off limits.

It had been five months now since your father had died, you and Joel were traveling back to where Tommy was. Although you were twenty, you had never learned how to drive so Joel began teaching you so you both could take turns to rest.

Joel and you had stopped at a shopping center hoping to find some more supplies but of course you became distracted by a clothing section. Mesmerized by the dresses the mannequins wore…you’d kill for the black silk one right in front of you. Watching Joel distracted in the other side of the room you grabbed the dress and hid behind a wall trying it on. You knew Joel would’ve convinced you other wise telling you it was pointless to do, but it had been so long since you dressed up. Catching a glimpse of yourself in a dusty old mirror you gasped. An old ticket showing the $700 price tag on it, why not have some fun with it?

“Joel! Look what I found” you stood before him excitedly as he was hunched over looking beneath a table. The second he stood up, his eyes lighting up before realizing what the hell he was thinking.

“What are you doin’?” He asked in a slight irritated tone.

“I found it and I had to try it on, Joel. I used to love wearing dresses and it’s gorgeous! I mean what do you think?!” Innocently you turned around looking back at him, showing the revealing cut it had down to your lower back. His eyes looking at you in a way they never had, following the slit to your ass before you turned back to him. Joel was speechless, you had no idea the effect you in that black dress had on him.

“Well?” You smiled as he stood serious, struggling to find the words.

“It’s nice” he spoke low, controlling his reaction on what he really thought. Joel couldn’t deny his attraction to you but anything he felt didn’t matter, he wouldn’t disrespect his friend this way.

“It’s gorgeous! It’s a $700 dress, you believe that?”

“We gotta get goin” Joel quickly changed the topic forcing himself to look away. You shrugged silently grabbing your backpack and walking beside him when he realized you were leaving with the dress on.

“The hell ya doin’?” He asked stopping you in your tracks.

“We’re just driving, thought I’d enjoy it on for a bit till our next stop. Come on don’t be a buzz kill” You laughed before walking off, Joel gulped not knowing how he was suppose to ignore you in that dress for the next four hours.

Sitting in the passenger seat you leaned your seat back drifting off to sleep until it was your turn to drive. Joel beside you gripping the steering wheel for dear life fighting the urge to look over at you. Thoughts roaming in his head like never before, inappropriate things about you that he couldn’t control. Moving around in your sleep you softly moaned making Joel unable to resist turning to you. One movement of your leg and the dress had slightly rose above your knee giving him a glimpse of your thigh. The sight sending blood rushing to his cock causing him to quickly swell up in his pants.

“Shit” Joel cursed at himself trying to ignore the urge he felt when you began to move around slowly waking up.

“How long have I been sleeping?” You yawned rubbing your eyes as Joel adjusted his pants struggling to hide his hard on.

“Uh, I don’t know” he kept his eyes on the road with his arm on his lap. You couldn’t help but notice he sounded strange and so you pushed your chair up looking over at him.

“You ok, you wanna switch spots now?” You asked but he quickly shook his head just wanting you to look away from him. His arm awkwardly sitting on his lap you couldn’t help but notice his awkward posture.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Your question making him more nervous.

“Huh? Nothin’” he cleared his throat before swallowing hard. Getting a hard on for his friend’s daughter was not something he planned. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

“Whatever” you whispered looking away as Joel remained tense hoping his nerves would kill the erection.

“I’m so thirsty, you have any left over water in your bottle” you looked over to the full bottle against his door and reached over.

“Hey, what the hell you doin’?”

Joel panicked feeling you come near him and attempted to grab his water bottle to pass it to you before realizing he was no longer covering his very obvious bulge.

“Oh-“ you gasped as he came to a sudden stop.

“Here, take the damn water bottle” he handed it to you without looking at you in the eye knowing you had seen what he was trying to hide. You had never suspected to see this side of Joel yet you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

What could’ve made him hard?

Looking up at him you realized how much he refused to look at you…maybe it was you. About to let himself out of the car, curiosity got the best of you and you slowly placed your hand on his bulge.

“What are you doin’-” He whispered low looking down at your hands on him, the feel of you so close taking over him. You could see him trying to fight it, yet he didn’t move.

“Relax” you whispered softly. Feeling the thickness of his length through his pants, his breathing growing heavier as if he was about to burst. Slowly you unbuttoned his pants, the urge he felt for you was too strong to stop you.

“Wait-” He whispered roughly yet he didn’t want you to stop. Gently you pulled out his warm thick cock in your hands looking up at him to find him already sweating.

It must’ve been so long since a woman touched him, you could see how much he needed this. Unexpectedly you leaned forward taking him in your mouth making his hips jerk, a sound you couldn’t make out harshly coming out of him.

“Fuck-“ he leaned his head back, his hands not knowing where to go, almost afraid to touch you. Joel closed his eyes in shame, what kind of man was he allowing you to do this? Feelings that Joel realized were never just platonic for you, he didn’t know what the hell they were.

Slowly you got up and leaned over to his side getting on top of him. Straddling him you felt him place his hands tightly on your waist. His eyes darkening realizing you never had any underwear on, the tip of his cock feeling how wet you were. The look in his eyes of a man that lost control as you took him in completely.

“Shit-“ Joel squeezed your waist. Grabbing onto his button shirt you began to ride him, his jaw tensing at the feel of how tight you were, stretching for him with each stroke. A sudden loud moan from you taking Joel by surprise as you moved faster. He watched as the silk dress slipped off your shoulders giving him a glimpse of your breast jumping out with each movement you made. He knew he wouldn’t last long especially with the way you felt wrapped around his cock. Leaning close against him you held onto his broad shoulders, breathless as he looked at you completely lost in the pleasure. A deep moan coming from his lips when his hips jerked upward.

“Fuck- get up- get up-“ he choked out before he picked you up himself off his cock and came. Throwing yourself to the side you watched as he finished jerking himself off, his cum building up on his hand as more continued to spill out of him. He sat still for a minute with his eyes closed, out of breath as you watched him..

The ride continued silently, Joel was serious staring ahead not making any eye contact with you. He could feel you look over at him here and there, the guilt eating up at him. How the hell could he have let this happen? Joel was pissed at himself for giving in, for being so weak.

“Are you mad at me?” Your question catching him off guard. Of course he wasn’t mad at you, he was more angry at himself, he should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve known better but caught in the moment you didn’t think. Joel was a man you trusted, the two of you were adults and things escalated quickly, why did it feel so wrong?

“No” his response not convincing you.

Joel decided to pull up to another pharmacy to see what other supplies could be found along the way. Waiting for him to get out you called out to him telling him you were going to change. Joel turned his back to the car waiting for you not saying a word.

“Let’s go” you walked past him reaching the front door before slowly opening it.

“Hold on, dammit” Joel grabbed the door letting himself in first taking a look around as you followed. After clearing the place the two of you began looking for anything you might need. Still you watched how Joel avoided you, not letting himself get close to you until you finally had enough.

“You’re really just not gonna talk to me?”

He stood still thinking of what to say but didn’t say a word.

“Look, I never expected that to happen, Joel. I wouldn’t have just done that with anyone” you continued as he distracted himself looking around him.

“You can’t even look at me-“

“It shouldn’t have happened” he whispered looking down.

“Well it did-“

“It was wrong” his voice grew louder as he unexpectedly looked up.

“I made a promise to your father-“

“My father is dead, Joel! I’m not a little girl.”

He most certainly knew you weren’t.

“I’m not looking for you to baby me or..want something more with me so don’t worry about that, but the least you could do is not act like I’m no longer worth speaking to anymore”

“Maybe you never were” he responded rather quickly catching you off guard. Joel didn’t want you upset with him but maybe that’s what was best. Anything was better than Joel coming to terms that maybe this wasn’t just a sexual encounter. A sexual encounter that he should’ve never allowed in the first place.

“I only helped you because of your father, you think I would’ve stayed stuck with some young dumb broad just for the hell of it?” His words cutting through deep. You didn’t think for a second Joel had feelings for you, but he also had never spoken to you like this.

“You’ve only held me back” he whispered coldly, he noticed your eyes tearing up and quickly looked away. A wave of guilt washing over him as you angrily walked out slamming the door shut. Joel watched through the window making sure you got back to the car safely, he noticed you wipe away a tear only deepening his guilt.

During the rest of the car ride you didn’t speak to Joel, you didn’t even look at him. Joel taking a quick glance with the corner of his eye as you faced the window.

Once arriving back to Tommy’s you got out of the car and slammed the door shut heading to your room.

“Everything alright?” Tommy asked Joel watching you walk off.

“Peachy” Joel muttered low walking towards his brother.

Heading towards your room you ran into a few of the guys hanging out having drinks. Usually you were never one to drink but with the way you were feeling, why the hell not?

“What are you guys drinking today?” you caught them by surprise. Sure, Joel had warned you to stay away from these guys that were nothing but trouble but what was it his business whom you decided to surround yourself with.

“Whiskey, want some?” One of the guys asked.

“Please” you surprisingly grabbed the bottle from him and took a chug.

“Oh gross” you wiped your lips as the men laughed.

“Not a drink huh? Maybe you should slow down” they laughed just before you took another chug.

The night went on as the four of you laughed and talked about nonsense, you honestly were enjoying yourself. Joel having a drink with Tommy at the bar he had no idea what you had been up to outside thinking you were in your room.

“Ellie’s been alright?” Joel asked Tommy who nodded before taking a sip.

“She’s making friends easily, the kids like her” Tommy responded before they were both distracted by the sound of laughter and glass breaking outside.

“The hell was that?” Tommy slammed his glass down before heading out as Joel followed only to find the typical guys drinking together acting childish, except this time you were amongst them.

“Oh shit it’s Joel-“ one of the guys whispered hiding his bottle of alcohol, the other attempting to grab the bottle out of your hand.

“What the hell are you guys so afraid of? Joel Miller?” You laughed stumbling to the side as you took another sip. The guys standing up straight as Joel and his brother walked up to them.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Joel walked up inches away from your face looking down at you.

“Uh, Joel she was just having a drink and-“

“Was I talking’ to ya, boy?!” Joel quickly snapped at one of the guys beside you.

“Let’s go, get out of here” Tommy led the guys away from you and Joel which only pissed you off.

“No-where are they…going…?” You slurred as you attempted to follow them with a stumble, Joel grabbed your arm.

“Let go of me!” You pulled pack hitting the wall behind you.

“I was just…drinking with some friends”

“Ya know damn well they ain’t no friends” Joel took another step forward towering over you.

“I told you about those guys god dammit-“

“What the hell do you care!?” You attempted to shove him, yet he was harder to move than you expected. Taking another chug he unexpectedly grabbed the bottle away from you as you attempted to grab it back.

“Hey!” He threw aside breaking the glass.

“What the hell Joel!”

“This what cha wanna do? You get pissed at me so you go and get drunk with these losers?” He furrowed his brows.

“And what’s it to you?” You smirked at him.

“Maybe I wanted to get drunk and let one of them fuck me” your words making Joel clench his jaw. A hint of jealousy stinging him when he suddenly grabbed you by your legs and carried you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” You screamed kicking and hitting him but he didn’t budge. Not saying a word he let you scream until he bought you to your room. Kicking the door open Joel lay you down on the bed, before you ever had a chance to get up he walked out and closed the door shut behind him with a lock.

“What are you doing?! Open the door!!” You slammed your hands on the door angrily. Maybe this was selfish of him, Joel didn’t like the idea of you with any of these men, you with any other man for that matter. But at the same time you were drunk, he refused to let you make a stupid mistake out of anger.

“Open the door” you screamed once more when to your surprise, he actually opened it.

“Go” he whispered.

“Go on, go fuck those friends of yours-“ he stood back giving you space to walk out.

“That’s what you want right?” You could hear the irritation in his voice.

“What do you…care…” you continued to slur waving your hands around.

“What the hell do you…care who I…fuck, or what I do“ Joel unexpectedly grabbed you by your waist pushing you into the room.

“Cause I want you god dammit-“ he shocked you with his words.

“And not just you on top of me” his eyes looked deeply into yours.

“I want you beside me, I want you with me” he whispered as you stumbled slightly off balance. Too shocked…too drunk to respond, Joel didn’t know if he’d regret admitting this to you…a part of him hoping you wouldn’t remember the next day.

“I-I need to..lay down” you whispered as the room began to spin. Joel quickly lay you back on the bed, your hand covering your eyes as the sensation of a ride began to take over you.

“I’m really dizzy..” you whispered as he sat beside you.

“I’m right here” he held your hand in his as you closed your eyes and fell to sleep. Joel didn’t know what the hell got into him to admit anything to you, he didn’t know how he felt about it. He wondered what the next day would hold, if you would recall what he had been hiding for so long…

[lurochar]

Well-Fed

It isn't wise to harass Alastor's assistant. A man learns this the hard way.

Human Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Violence, unknowing cannibalism

--

What a pleasant night.

“F-fuck, please – what do you want?! I’ll… I’ll do anything!” The man pleaded, sniveling as he tried to crawl back, “J-just don’t kill me!”

What lovely begging.

Alastor hummed, eyeing the fallen man as he wondered in which way he should slaughter him that would best satisfy him and his current needs.

Should he just blow the man’s brain out? It’s not like he needed his head for anything – nothing really too edible there. It always made such a mess.

Maybe cut the man’s throat and make it a quick one? It always did give him a thrill to watch the life fade from one’s eyes and the absolute terror on their faces when there was nothing to be done. 

Possibly chop the man’s limbs off and watch him slowly bleed to death? He would probably put up too much of a fight and ruin too much of his meat and it would take far too long.

“Do you remember me?” Alastor asked, causing the man’s eyes to finally look at his face rather than the rifle in hand, “Or actually, do you remember the woman at the radio station earlier today?”

“Y-yeah, ‘course I remember you!” The man simpered, as if sucking up would actually save his life, “You’re Alastor Hartfelt, right? That radio host who’s the talk of the town right now?” His face twitched, “So, why you doing this?! Don’t fucking tell me…!” His eyes widened when he finally figured it out.

He wasn’t getting out of here alive.

“I asked, ‘do you remember the woman at the radio station earlier today’?” Alastor didn’t flinch in the least as he pulled his axe from the holster at his hip, swinging it down in a smooth motion, and easily severing the man’s hand.

He was screaming now, of course, in complete shock at the brutal action and he tried to scramble to his feet to run for his life, but Alastor already had his rifle at the ready, easily shooting him in the foot before he could do anything.

“I’d rather not repeat myself for a third time,” Alastor looked on in a bit of distaste when the man vomited, heaving and twitching around in agony. “It is why you are here, after all.”

The man didn’t answer or didn’t even hear him as he curled up into a sad little ball, causing Alastor to sigh in slight disappointment that his hunt was already over, but preparing meat took time and he had already invited you over to dinner the next night, so it was fine.

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Alastor knew he was talking to himself at this point as he knelt down as he reached for his knife from his belt, “I’d rather you not treat women like objects that you can use whenever you feel like it. Far too many men are like this. Imagine how Y/N felt when you cornered her in my radio station and groped her like a mindless animal? Perhaps as helpless as you are now? In any case, I do not tolerate any disrespect of such kind, especially with my lovely little assistant.”

He was rambling, he knew, he always did get like this when it came to you and your wellbeing.

“I’ve spent too much time on you,” Alastor tightened his grip on his knife, “I have a meal to prepare. I do hope you taste better than you look, my good chum.”

He hoped you liked Jambalaya.

–

“This is amazing!”

Alastor smiled, feeling absolutely pleased at your joyful expression as you took a bite of his cooking, clearly delighting in the flavour, “It’s my mother’s recipe, you see.” His eyes flashed, a dark satisfaction building up in him, “I’m glad you like it. I thought the meat might have been of too low quality.”

“No, no!” You went to reassure him, “I’m nothing fancy!” You eagerly took another bite. “You are a very good cook. Your mother must have taught you well. She must be very proud.”

“I would like to think so.” Alastor’s smile softened briefly at the thought, “I do try to be nothing less than a true gentleman. I believe my mother would have liked you very much so. I would like to share more of her recipes with you, if I may be so bold to ask?”

You flushed, looking down at your food before peering back up to Alastor with a shy smile, “I would like that too.” You did not recognize the mania behind Alastor’s eyes as you continued to eat his cooking.

“I’ll keep you well-fed, my dear.”

[lnfours]

welcome home | l.n

summary: he finally asks you to move in with him

warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff. i need him so bad.

masterlist | ask box

₊‧°���♡𐑂°‧₊

the sun shining through the curtains is what woke lando up, the smell of your perfume engulfing him when he lazily threw the pillow from your the other side of the bed. he had tried to go back to sleep, but failed. so, he threw the covers off his legs with a soft sigh, getting up and looking around the room for any sign of you, but you weren’t there. only your things remained on the dresser, your clothes folded in a pile on the top.

when he walked into the bathroom, your toothbrush was sitting next to his in the cup, your face wash and hair brush on the counter next to your overflowing makeup bag. he didn’t mind the mess. actually, he liked when you left things around. it gave the other wise empty apartment life. it was like you were leaving your own personal touches throughout his home, and he couldn’t help but smile at every single one.

the towel you had used to shower that morning was sitting on the rack, still damp. your shampoo, conditioner and body wash sitting on the built in shelf. it pulled at his heartstrings to see it, how he wished the things would find a permanent place rather than a temporary one every few weeks.

as he brushed his teeth, he racked his brain trying to think of where you had gone, but remembered that you mentioned something about getting brunch with a few friends. he had hoped you were having fun, much needed ‘girl time’, but all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed with you and continue the show the two of you had started the weekend before.

despite his feelings, he finally wandered into the kitchen. he smiled softly at the coffee cup sitting in the sink, the white mug stained with your lipstick on the rim. he could picture you fixing your lipstick in the mirror before walking out the door in a hurry, because you were almost always running late.

he made himself a cup of coffee, sitting down on the couch and scrolling through his phone. he saw that you had posted on your instagram story about an hour ago, a picture of you and your friends in the mirror of the bathroom at the cafe downtown.

girls day <3

his heart almost leapt into his throat at how brightly you were smiling. he caught himself smiling back at the photo, your smile being too infectious. he couldn’t help himself as he slid up on the picture, typing back a response.

can i be invited next time? i’m one of the girls 😕

he watched as your icon appeared in the chat, your side illuminating with the ‘typing…’ in the lower corner.

i think the girls would disagree, hun. i’ll be home soon, and then i’m all yours 🤍

he smiled softly, double tapping the message.

deal. have fun, baby ❤️

you double tapped his message in return and he swiped out of instagram, checking his email. when it was done refreshing, only one had caught his eye. he placed his coffee down on the table in front of him as he turned his entire focus to reading the email.

dear mr. norris,

i’d like to congratulate you as your offer for the home on willow lane has been approved! i’ll be in contact soon to talk about settlement and move-in dates.

in all, congratulations on being a homeowner! look forward to speaking with you!

best wishes,

sam parker

keller prime realty

“no way, mate!” he laughed softly.

max had decided to come downstairs at that exact time, “you alright?”

he nodded at his friend, “remember that house i showed you? the one i said i was debating on putting an offer on?”

max nodded, “yeah, what about it?”

“well, i may or may not have put an offer on it,” lando continued, “and it may or may not have gotten approved.”

max smiled, patting his best friend’s shoulder, “congrats, mate. when do you and y/n move in?”

lando’s face fell and max rolled his eyes, “you haven’t asked her yet? you literally just bought the house and you still haven’t asked her?”

lando bit down on his bottom lip, “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just, i don’t know if she’s on the same page. i mean, she spends the weekends here, but whenever i wake up on sundays she’s normally about to leave.”

max shook his head, “or what if it’s because you never told her how much you like her staying here? i mean, sure we both know you love having her without saying anything, but maybe she just needs that reassurance.”

lando nodded, catching onto what his best mate was on about, “and i haven’t reassured her…”

“right,” max nodded, “now you get it.”

“so, what? i’m just supposed to be like ‘hey, i love having you here so much that i bought a house for us to move into, if you want’?” lando joked, taking a sip from his mug.

max rolled his eyes, “not exactly like that, you div.”

the door opened and you smiled as you kicked your heels off by the door, the two boys’ eyes landing on yours, “hey,”

“hey,” max smiled.

lando smiled at you as your feet padded against the hardwood floor heading towards the kitchen, your keys and purse hanging on the hooks by the door, “how was brunch?”

“good,” you nodded, placing the white takeout box on the shelf in the fridge, “they had really good matcha lattes, i think you would’ve liked it.”

lando hummed, “maybe we can go sometime soon.”

you nodded, plopping next to him on the couch, chin leaning on his shoulder, “sounds good, baby.”

lando smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. you smiled into the kiss as max groaned, which only made you pull lando closer by his hoodie. you laughed when max fake gagged and got up from his seat, the both of you breaking apart and laughing as he made his way back up the stairs, “yep, that’s enough. sick of you two swapping spit near me.”

“cheers, mate,” lando called back up the stairs before looking over at you. you smiled at the brunette.

“what?”

he shook his head, “just thinking.”

your eyes found the curl that had fallen out of place, your fingers moving to brush it back, “about what?”

“how much i love having you here,” he said and your lips turned into a smile, “i have someone to annoy max with now.”

you giggled, “that’s my favorite pastime and you know that.”

he smiled, nodding, “i do.”

there was a moment of silence before he spoke up again, “do you like coming here?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, “of course i do. what makes you ask?”

he took in a deep breath before looking back at you, “i bought a house.”

his words came out all of a sudden and you looked at him confused, “you… bought a house?”

he nodded, swallowing before he continued, “for us.”

your heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you, softly smiling, “i found the perfect house, and i put an offer on it and it was accepted. i know i should’ve told you, but, i really really want you to move in with me. like yesterday,”

you laughed softly as he smiled, “when did you put an offer on it?”

“a few weeks ago,” he said, “i know i should’ve told you, but when i say it’s perfect it’s literally perfect. everytime i look at it i just keep seeing you dancing around the kitchen or us watching a movie in the living room, i don’t know…”

you placed your hand on his cheek, “i love you,”

he smiled back, “i love you, too,” his nose brushed against yours, “will you please move in with me.”

you brushed through the curls on the nape of his neck, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried your best to hold back the smile threatening to breakout on your face, “since you asked so nicely.”

he snorted before kissing you sweetly, pulling you into his lap. you giggled as he held you close, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“do you have any pictures?” you smiled against his lips. he nodded, reaching between the two of you before fishing his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. you watched as he pulled the listing up on his phone, a smile on his face as he handed it to you.

as you scrolled through the pictures and smiled about all the little things he had thought you’d like about the house, all he could think about was what you would look like in a white dress.

[serahadmoni]

A Case for Bodhi Durran

Criminally underused and oft-sidelined, Bodhi Durran deserves…more. More attention. More consideration. More love. While plenty of fanon exists surrounding his character - including presuppositions of what his life was like before the apostasy, what his dreams for the future were before the Rider’s Quadrant -  for this commentary I will try to focus primarily on the text and evidentiary proof of his virtues. So, let's talk about how Bodhi Durran...

Is Loyal

“When you have a hundred and seven scars on your back, then you get to make the fucking decisions, Ciaran,” Bodhi snarls

I feel like all the Marked Ones who populate Xaden's inner circle have loyalty written indelibly on their hearts - loyalty to not only Tyrrendor, but specifically to Xaden. They understand the sacrifice he made then and the sacrifices he continues to make for them. Even when being loyal to Xaden means hauling dead bodies out of his not-girlfriend’s room at two in the morning. Or making clandestine smuggling runs . Or continuing to manage the operation in Xaden’s absence when the Navarrian leadership has begun to catch wise. Or when you take pains to ensure he’s left to his grief on the anniversary of his father’s death. Even when they sometimes butt heads over specifics, Bodhi ultimately defers to Xaden, because he…

Is Dutiful

[Xaden] dips his chin toward our wing, and two riders—Garrick and Bodhi—break formation, then climb the steps to stand behind Xaden, their hands at their sides.  “As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would-be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section Leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran.

Again, all the Marked Ones display this quality in spades. Even if they don’t always agree with the methods Xaden uses, they will forever carry out their duty, his orders. Liam represents the ultimate expression of this quality, but the way Bodhi protects Violet in Xaden’s absence, even going so far as to risk his own reputation and command by constantly moving flight maneuvers to protect her is an undeniable expression of his sense of duty.

“You saved every single one of us here, cousin,” Bodhi says. “And we’re thankful. Now, I’d like to do what we’ve trained for, and if it means I don’t go home, then I guess my soul will be commended to Malek. I wouldn’t mind seeing my mother anyway.”

This speaks for itself. Both in the language of duty and loyalty, which only serves to accentuate the fact Bodhi…

Is Supportive

“You’re our best fighter,” a second-year near Xaden counters with a quick grin.

Though he and Garrick (and Violet) share in this responsibility to some extent, I still think in a lot of ways Bodhi is Xaden’s ultimate hype man. Mostly because he understands Xaden so deeply and as such is well aware how much Xaden needs it sometimes. He’s present for Xaden in difficulty. Willing to advocate for him, stand up for him even against the other Marked Ones as he does after Resson.

Bodhi grins, flashing a smile that looks exactly like my aunt’s used to. “Good to see you up and about, Sorrengail.” Then he smacks me on the shoulder as he walks off, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll fetch the backup plan. Good luck.”

But it’s not just Xaden he supports…

When the Assembly wants nothing more than to toss Violet in a cell, he lends his voice to the arguments for her loyalty, her integrity: 

She fought at our side at Resson.” Bodhi tenses as his voice rises as well.

AND

In another, quieter moment, which speaks not only to his naturally supportive nature but also how well he can read others needs: 

“It’s a lost magic,” Bodhi says softly, appearing at my side. He rubs his thumb over his newly mended, scarless palm. “Maybe there’s a reason this stone never worked. It might be broken.”

He can tell how thoroughly the failed attempt at raising the wards shatters Violet’s self-confidence and even though he doesn’t know her as well as Xaden, he understands she needs reassurance, offering it freely. He also supports Violet in her burnout and when she’s crazed after hearing Xaden was injured. 

Bodhi Durran is a man who desperately wants everyone to be okay. Actively. Daily. Trying to not only keep everyone alive, but sane and grounded, because Bodhi…

Is Brilliant

The distraction Bodhi engineered in the flight field bought us time to meet without teachers noticing, but not much, especially considering that Devera, Kaori, Carr, and Emetterio are among those on campus still.

Personally, I would love to know what he threw together with zero notice that managed to keep the instructors busy long enough for Dain to call the quadrant to formation and Xaden (coughVioletcough) to issue his invitation. My guess, there were explosives of some sort involved.

Also, when they are climbing the Cliffs of Dralor with the fliers and the wyvern attack, he puts together what it means that the wyvern felt the pulse of the Aretian hatching grounds being reactivated before pretty much anyone else. He understands the wyvern will have relayed to their masters that the fliers and Aretian riders joined forces and the implications of such a report.

“I… uh… think we’re going to have to make some modifications on that harness,” Bodhi remarks as Andarna struggles to maintain her balance. “That’s going to take a few hours.”

Without drifting into the land of fanon, it’s hard to elaborate on this point except to highlight that Bodhi has the skills and know-how to modify an elaborately designed one-of-a-kind dragon harness. Were I to drift into fanon, I would shout from the rooftops that he’s the engineer of the group - the one that made sure Violet’s daggers would work for her, who consulted with Xaden on the prototype and modifications to Violet’s saddle, who also helped design and proof Andarna’s harness. Where Xaden may be the ideas-man in these areas, Bodhi executes. He’s the one who fixes their pocket watches when they won’t keep time or helps troubleshoot why the damn trigger on that crossbow sticks when any of the Marked Ones can’t figure it out for themselves. Ultimately, Bodhi wants to help in a tangible way because he...

Is Protective

In this, I feel it’s best to just let Bodhi speak for himself. 

When Varrish confronts Violet on the flight field before her first trip to Samara.

“You may leave, Cadet Durran,” Varrish says.  Bodhi moves closer to my side, and the male lieutenant takes a step closer as well, the mage lights catching the signet patch—fire wielding—on his uniform. “As Cadet Sorrengail’s section leader, I am the next in her chain of command. And as Article Four, Section Two of the Codex states, her discipline falls to her chain of command before being brought to cadre. I would be negligent in my duty were I to leave her in potential possession of… whatever it is you’re looking for.”

When Varrish pushes Violet to near burnout.

Bodhi’s warm brown face appears in front of mine. “Fuck.” He tugs the edges of the blanket closed around me. “This is because of Andarna?”  “Yes.”  Bodhi’s eyes widen. … “I’ll handle it,” Bodhi promises, capturing my gaze. “This won’t happen to you again.”

When Dain Aetos calls Violet to the mat because he’s pissed off that she won’t talk to him.

“You shouldn’t do this!” Bodhi shouts as he runs at us, skidding to a stop next to me. Imogen isn’t far behind. Ah, she’d run to find the closest person to Xaden possible. Makes sense. “She’s in a fucking sling, Aetos.”  “Last time I checked, you’re a section leader.” Dain narrows his eyes on Bodhi. “And your cousin isn’t her wingleader anymore. I am.”  The muscles in Bodhi’s neck bulge. “Xaden’s going to fucking kill him,” he whispers.

There are plenty of other instances where he protects others. Notably, when he steps in front of Carr to counter his signet as they are leaving Basgiath. And I’m certain there are hundreds of instances we don’t see since we are in Violet’s POV through the series. None of which detracts from the fact that Bodhi…

Is Principled

At the beginning of Fourth Wing, upon returning from a standard weapons run, he pushes Xaden and Garrick both, insisting: 

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low…

And then again at the end of the book, when the cadets are faced with a decision to fight alongside the fliers to save the Pormoish civilians or flee for Eltuval, he’s the first to insist they help. Even coming into conflict with Xaden’s more measured approach to the impossible dilemma Col. Aetos has enforced upon them. 

“How many people live in Resson?” Bodhi asks.  “More than three hundred,” Imogen answers as another boom cracks through the valley. “That’s the post they do the yearly trades at.”  “Then let’s get down there.” Bodhi turns and Xaden steps back, blocking his path with an outstretched hand. “You’re kidding me, right?”  “We have no idea what we’re walking into.” Xaden’s tone reminds me of that first day after Parapet. He’s in full command mode.  “So we should just stand here while civilians die?” Bodhi questions, and I tense. We all do, watching Xaden. 

As much as I love Xaden, and I do. I believe equipping the drifts with weapons is a means to an end for him. They are the thin, brown and feathered line between the venin and Tyrrendor. He wants to continue helping them, but I don’t believe - other than from an abstract “we don’t condemn innocents to death” perspective - he’s overly concerned with the preservation of individual Poromish lives. Bodhi, for better or worse, appears to be invested in the preservation of life in general. A grounded, guiding principle that thankfully he values because Bodhi…

Is Powerful

He sighs. “Yeah. Second time someone tried to jump me in the bathing chamber this week.”  My eyes widen as my heart hammers in my chest. “Are you okay?”  He has the gall to grin. “I completely eviscerated some asshole out of Second Wing while naked and only got a bruise. I’m fine.” 

I mean, besides the litany of weapons certification patches Violet observes early in Fourth Wing, Bodhi is just as skilled in unarmed hand-to-hand. While he’s never described as “on-par” with Xaden (since Xaden spars with Garrick almost exclusively unless he’s trying to make a point), Bodhi clearly knows how to handle himself. In the buff. With no weapons. And accruing no serious injuries. 

Which doesn’t even touch his signet…

“What have you done?” Carr shouts, running for us, his wispy hair flying in all directions as he lifts his hands. “You’ll end us all, over who? People you’ve never met? I won’t allow it!”  “Bodhi!” Xaden orders as Carr reaches Third Wing. Fire erupts from Carr’s hands, streaming toward the dais, and my stomach drops. Time seems to slow as Bodhi steps forward and twists his hand like he’s turning a dial. The fire dies, extinguishing like it was never there and leaving Carr staring at his hands.  “You taught us well, Professor,” Bodhi says, holding his hand in place. “Maybe a little too well.”  Damn.  “He can counter signets,” Xaden tells me.  Well, that’s fucking terrifying.

And though people have questioned Brennan's assessment: 

“By our best calculations,” Brennan says, rubbing his hands together to keep warm, “the six most powerful riders currently in Aretia are Xaden, Felix, Suri, Bodhi, Violet, and me.”

When you consider the potential of his signet…

Yes, he extinguishes Carr’s flames without blinking. But he can also smother Xaden’s shadows. Dispel Violet’s lightning. Destroy Mira’s wards. Keep Brennan from mending. He could have calmed Lilith’s storms. And while it seems like largely a defensive signet, there are offensive elements to it as well. Such as - and I’m not saying this would happen - he could remain completely invisible to Melgren, even without the benefit of three other Marked Ones. If such a thing were in the cards, he would be able to easily assassinate Melgren, undetected. 

And that’s if we don’t consider what, if any, mind signets he can counter. Can he reverse Imogen’s memory wipe? Or merely prevent her from performing one? Can he fool a truthsayer by offering them nothing to read? Based on the text, it appears Xaden is unable to read his intentions. Which would imply he’s impervious to not only inntinsics, but memory readers and erasers, truthsayers, etc. 

Considering we don’t know precisely how his signet works, it’s difficult to say for certain where the boundaries lie. Is it only as Xaden says, “He can counter signets?” Or is he interrupting the channel between dragon and rider entirely?  Which would have far more wide-reaching implications since he could theoretically also break the channel between gryphons and their fliers as well as venin and the earth.

Just like we really don’t have all the information about Violet’s “pure power” signet, we don’t have nearly enough hard information about Bodhi’s to say for certain where the potential expression of it may end.

Despite his physical and magical prowess, though, Bodhi…

Is Pragmatic

“I liked it better when we just delivered the weapons,” Bodhi mutters.

As principled, honorable, loyal, and dutiful as he is…same. He wants to help, but it’s hard. And dangerous. And running weapons is easier. I don’t blame him at all. 

His pragmatism is reflected in the text a hundred different ways, but it’s also simply stated by both him and Violet. 

“And I thought you were the most reasonable of the group.” I sigh. “Look, if I can help, then maybe we can prevent what I’m assuming are… supply runs.” Talking in code is ridiculous, but anyone could be listening. “Give me a job.”  “Oh, I am the most reasonable in the group.” He flashes a grin, leaning back on his heels. “I also don’t have a death wish. Survive second year and strengthen your shields, Sorrengail. That’s your job.” 

He is a man who gets things done. Which is not to say he’s not in touch with his emotions. But he understands the balance between necessity and diplomacy. Not that he’s a staid, stoic mission only guy either, because Bodhi…

Is Quick-Witted

“Hey, I hate to interrupt what’s obviously a moment,” Bodhi whispers loudly from my left. “But that was the last bell, so that’s our cue to get this nightmare started.”

AND

Bodhi wrinkles his nose.  “What?”  “You smell like dragon ass.”  “Fuck off.” I chance a whiff and can’t argue.  “I’m using your room.”  “I would consider it a personal favor.” I extend my middle finger and head toward his room.

Much as I appreciate and adore Bodhi’s quick wit, I could also write volumes about how his dry, sarcastic sense of humor operates as a defense mechanism. A lens through which he can deal with the intensity of his circumstances and the impact of these weighty decisions they are all making.

Like Xaden himself says, Bodhi always lightens the mood. To help himself deal? Yes. But (like Ridoc) also because he can tell everyone desperately needs it, a virtue that serves him well because he…

Is A Leader

”Shouldn’t you all be in Battle Brief?” Bodhi asks, his voice booming as he comes up behind us. One look sends the other squads scurrying for the door. 

Though a lot of space on the page has been given to Xaden, Rhiannon, and Violet’s obvious leadership qualities, Bodhi sprang from the same genetic line as Xaden. While the expression of the Riorson magnetism may be tempered by his natural demeanor, he possesses the same it-factor as Fen. Were I to lay bets, I expect his mother was similarly charismatic and it was expressed in her much the way it is in Bodhi.

“…Flame Section has the unique honor of being completely intact.” Brennan looks down at Bodhi. “Durran, you brought every single cadet. I guess that would make you the Iron Section.”

He inspired such loyalty from his section, they all defected. For so many reasons, including those already expressed above, I believe Bodhi to be a servant leader. Servant leadership rests on three pillars:  compassion, character, and competence. All of which Bodhi has in spades. He would not run a section the way Garrick did. Or the way Xaden ran his wing. Not that there was anything wrong with either of those philosophies necessarily. But he would pull with his squads, encourage them, equip them, support them, and push them gently to be their best. He would need to make certain they’re ready to face what he did in Resson, but he would do it with a deft, deliberate, more delicate hand than I think Xaden is willing or able to extend, because Bodhi Durran…

Is A Caretaker

So much of what has already been outlined above also represents an expression of this quality. From him helping Garrick protect Xaden’s solitude on the anniversary of Fen’s death. To him stepping between Aaric and Xaden when they start throwing barbs about Alic (which is also pragmatism, because hey, there’s a job to do). To him waiting with Xaden in the hall while Violet cleans up after Resson. He takes care of people both physically: 

“Whoa!” Bodhi throws up one hand, the other clutching his rucksack. “I don’t want you to freeze to death on the flight there.” He yanks his flight jacket out of his pack and hands it to me.

Bodhi helps Aaric out of his [disguise], careful with his blistered hands.  … “That’s a rebound burn,” Bodhi says. “It will clear up overnight if treated.”

”And tell Bodhi to track down whatever antidote she and the rest of her squad need.”

And emotionally, which leads me to the fact Bodhi…

Is Emotionally Attuned

An hour later, I’m bathed and impatient as I wait outside my room in a fresh set of leathers with Bodhi, who’s doing his best to lighten my mood just like he always does.

Bodhi reads people. Easily. He understands what Xaden’s saying without it being said . After Resson, he knows what Xaden needs from them - not questions, not reason, just action. He knows that Violet and Imogen need to run. And even when he can’t contradict Xaden’s orders, I believe he sympathizes with Violet’s driving need to do something to help, because it’s a drive he shares. Later, he knows not to carry Violet back to the quadrant after her burnout. And he’s the one that follows her into the courtyard to offer his jacket because he can see the panic plain as day. Just as he can see her disappointment when the wards fail. He can feel Xaden’s rage and terror as Violet lays comatose and poisoned (not that Xaden is overly subtle about it). 

On top of all of that, Bodhi…

Is Beautiful

He’s handsome, with tawny brown skin crowned by a cloud of black curls and a litany of patches on what I can see of his uniform under his cloak. His features are close enough to Xaden’s that they might be related. Cousins, maybe?

…Bodhi has the same bronzed skin and strong brow line, but his features aren’t as angular as Xaden’s, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown. He looks like a softer, more approachable version of his older cousin...

Even Violet, who only has eyes for Xaden, recognizes how attractive he is. Yet, as fair and fine the wrapping, I would heartily declare his character fairer still.

While this is by no means an exhaustive list of his virtues - he's also humble, adaptable, a peacemaker, a good listener, infinitely capable, empathetic, and hyperaware of how he should conduct himself in a given situation - I think the case for Bodhi Durran has been made.

(originally compiled for the Onyx Storm countdown days at the RQ Discord)

[seeingivy]

late night talking

phd!student eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

--

[lizontopoftheworld]: do you ever think we’ve met in real life? 

[busstopbilly]: I’d like to think that I would remember that. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: what do you mean…

[busstopbilly]: I mean, I’d like to think that I would just be able to tell if I saw you out there in the real world. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: so you’re delulu…got it…

[busstopbilly]: Delulu? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: fun way to say delusional 

[busstopbilly]: It’s not delusional to think I would be able to recognize you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you don’t even know what i look like 

[busstopbilly]: Are you so materialistic? Is that the only way people can recognize one another?

[lizontopoftheworld]: are you insinuating that there is some alternative way unbeknownst to me that people can recognize one another? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i must be living under a rock! 

[busstopbilly]: Or you’re just feeble minded. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: feeble is crazy btw

[busstopbilly]: :) 

[busstopbilly]: I like to keep you on your toes. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: OK OH WISE ONE. tell me how you would be able to recognize me with the very limited information you have… 

[busstopbilly]: Limited? I like to think I know you very well. You and all of your deep dark secrets. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: always one for theatrics…

[busstopbilly]: Nothing as theatrical as buying a replacement of the class fish you killed on the week you were supposed to take care of it.

[lizontopoftheworld]: THAT WAS ONE TIME OH MY FUCKING GOD 

[busstopbilly]: Are you insinuating that murder is okay if it was only one time? :)

[lizontopoftheworld]: im just a girl…

[busstopbilly]: I’d be able to recognize you if I saw you out in the real world because I’m pretty sure we knew each other in another life. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :O 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :OO 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[busstopbilly]: Are you broken? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ONLY MY HEART :((((

[busstopbilly]: Are you deflecting because you don’t want to say something serious in response? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :/

[lizontopoftheworld]: ://////////

[busstopbilly]: Are you scared to say it back because I make you nervous? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: >:(((((((

[lizontopoftheworld]:: >:(((((((((((((((

[busstopbilly]: Liz. 

[busstopbilly]: Come on.

[busstopbilly]: Tell me what you really think. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: …

[busstopbilly]: It’s just me, you know. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: sometimes you say things that i’ve thought for a long time really out loud 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i live in my own head sometimes, so much so, that i think that most of the things that i think are outrageous or ostentatious – a complete figment of my imagination that i’ve just made up. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: that could never be real. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: it just throws me off when they’re coming out of your metaphorical online mouth. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: …it reminds me i’m not crazy…because you think those things too… 

[busstopbilly]: :) 

[busstopbilly]: Maybe that does make you crazy. But maybe the same type of crazy as me.

[lizontopoftheworld]: well either way it’s very comforting

[lizontopoftheworld]: i feel so out of place…almost all the time…it’s nice to know sometimes that it’s not an original thought…that other people do think like that too 

[busstopbilly]: So you think we’ve met in another life? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ding ding ding 

[busstopbilly]: What do you think we’re doing there? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: something cool 

[busstopbilly]: I’d be a soccer player. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: didn’t u tell me a story about how u literally used to cheat in pe when you were in grade school?

[busstopbilly]: Hence the alternate universe. 

[busstopbilly]: Either way, I think we’d be the same as we are now. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: such a romantic notion for your canary mate. you know we only know each other bc of an algorithm right…

[busstopbilly]: Wrong. 

[busstopbilly]: Defeats the whole purpose of the “we knew each other in another life” notion. 

[busstopbilly]: We were always going to meet. It just happened to be an algorithm this time around. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you know, you kind of get delirious around three am… 

[busstopbilly]: You love it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :DDDDD 

[busstopbilly]: Good night, Liz. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: good night billy boy!!!! <3 

--

“i hooked up with my canary mate.” 

you feel your eyes widen, as you shoot out of your desk chair and peek over the little divider, to where jean – one of the fellow phd students in your computational neuroscience program – is chatting with connie. 

you must make some measure of a strange noise because they look over at you, connie giving you a sweet wave, while jean smirks. 

“hear something that tickled your fancy, newbie?” jean asks. 

“you hooked up with your canary mate?” you whisper. 

“i wish i had a canary mate. we could have started a pyramid scheme together or something.” connie states. 

shiganshina university has a weird set of rituals that the student body engages in. dipping into each of the fountains during finals week to get good grades on your exams, eating breakfast at midnight the first day of classes in the student union, and an algorithm that finds you the perfect friend. 

canary mates. an old student in the computational data sciences had made it for his thesis project, a preliminary algorithm for a dating website, that would pair incoming students with someone they would be compatible with as friends. 

you filled out a simple survey – questions ranging from your favorite color to your philosophies on life. and at the end of it, all of the answers were scored and fed through an algorithm that found you your perfect pair, a fellow shiganshina canary to be friends with.

the usernames remained anonymous to protect participant privacy, though most people tended to reveal themselves upon first message – just to promptly never talk to one another again. 

unless you’re jean. you hook up with them instead. or unless you’re you – because you’ve been talking to your canary mate every day for the past nine months now. 

“they don’t do that for the staffers?” you ask. 

connie is the administrative assistant at the research lab you matched into with the program – the shiganshina interdisciplinary brain research group. he was a recent graduate from marley technical institute with a masters in business administration, who assisted with all the clerical aspects of the lab. 

you appreciated connie more than most people. only because the soft skills and things like that were lost to you – the type of things that you can’t google, like etiquette with visiting professors and why you need to network on linkedin — were always the ones connie remembered to explain to you, without shame.

you have a hunch that erwin had asked him to do it. he was freakishly intuitive in that way, though you suppose that’s what made him perfect for his job as the director of the lab. it was part of the job description – reading people, maximizing almost every thing for the best gain– which in his case, was making sure that his phd students knew what they were doing. 

“staffers don’t deserve sexy online hookups apparently.” connie states. 

a few feet way, you hear an irritated sigh, your line of vision treating you to the most annoying sight known to man – eren jaeger setting up for the day at his desk. 

“you know, one day you’ll get reported to hr connie.” eren states. 

“jean, are you going to report me to hr?” connie asks. 

jean shakes his head. 

“y/n, are you going to report me to hr?” 

you smirk.

“not without a big fat kiss on your cheek to go with it!” you joke, earning you a laugh from the two of them. 

eren rolls his eyes.

“what the hell are you even talking about?” eren asks, setting his bag down as he pulls up the stand up desk and starts connecting his displays. 

“jean was talking about how he hooked up with his canary mate.” you state. 

eren’s eyes widen. 

“you did what?” eren asks. 

jean nods, but not before immediately straightening up against the wall and sheepishly rubbing his hand around the back of his neck – a natural response to the sight of mikasa suddenly appearing at his side. 

mikasa ackerman was quiet, a cold kind of pretty, and the sweetest lab coordinators that you had ever worked with. she was one of the applicants in the previous round of phd students – and unfortunately, the only one from her close knit group who didn’t make it. 

eren, jean, armin, annie, and sasha were all members of the bridge program that linked with the neuroscience undergraduate degree. mikasa was apparently one of the brightest members of the bunch, but for some reason, wasn’t accepted when time came around. she was taking the year to pad her resume before she tried again.

“what are we talking about?” mikasa asks. 

“about how jean ho-” connie starts. 

“nothing! we aren’t talking about anything mikasa! how was your weekend?” jean asks. 

“it was great, jean! thank you for asking.” she responds.

“he was talking about how he hooked up with his canary mate that he got matched with when he linked with the graduate programs.” eren states, not even stopping to look up from his computer. 

you watch as jean visibly pinkens at the blunt nature of eren’s words and don’t miss how mikasa’s eye twitches in the slightest, before she presses her laptop closer to her chest. and you’re sure it stings – knowing the guy you liked hooked up with someone else or perhaps even worse, being reminded that you were left out of yet another thing, even something as arbitrary as a canary mate – because you weren’t the only one who was accepted into the program. 

the group of them awkwardly shuffle away, connie and mikasa heading over to their meeting in the fishbowl conference room, as jean walks over to the mri imaging room to test out the equipment. and you spare eren one glance – one glance – before he makes his very first irritating comment of the day. 

“do you have something you want to say to me, newbie?” 

you shake your head. 

“i can tell you do. so why don’t you just come out and say it?” eren asks, tone scathing. 

you brush the lint off the hem of your skirt. eren always seemed to intrude into space like that. if erwin thought that connie needed to teach you the sleight of hands to interacting with people in a professional setting, you figured that eren would probably need some lessons in keeping his thoughts to himself. 

“i thought that was a little bit mean.” you state. 

eren scoffs. 

“they obviously like each other. and it was clear that he didn’t want her to know, so maybe you should have just kept it to yourself like connie and i did.” 

eren averts his gaze from his computer for the first time, piercing green eyes that meet yours, but not as piercing as his words. 

“you don’t think mikasa deserves to know if they’re going to talk to each other?” 

you scoff. 

“they aren’t even together yet. he would obviously divulge that eventually if they were talking for real. you’re kind of nipping them in the bud before they can even get there.” you state. 

“why do you talk like that?” 

you feel your throat dry. 

“like what?” 

“the words you use. kind of…maybe…. you don’t sound very confident when you speak.” he responds, his voice flat.

eren hits a nerve. he hits a nerve like he always does, in the way that only he can, and it’s infuriating. so infuriating that you feel the need to fight back. 

it had been like that since you met him. on the very first day, you walked up to him – the only person in the phd program that you really knew, because he was the son of world famous neuroscientist grisha jaeger – and introduced yourself. and ever since then, he was always keen on showing you exactly who he was – an egotistical prick. 

it drove you crazy. everything about him drove you crazy. 

 “we can’t all be as arrogant as you, eren.” you state. 

eren’s eye twitches. 

“and we can’t all be pushovers like you either, l/n.” 

you roll your eyes, dragging your feet open to the cubicle as you quickly click to the open tab, fingers coming in fast and hot as you type, a burning sensation tingling in the back of your eyes. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: I’M GOING TO KILL HIM 

[lizontopoftheworld]: I’M GOING TO TAKE ONE OF THE SYRINGES IN THE LAB AND SHOVE IT INTO HIS EYE SOCKET TILL HE BLEEDS 

[lizontopoftheworld]: STUPID ARROGANT PRICK IM LITERALLY GOING TO BE ON THE NEWS 

[busstopbilly]: Good morning, Liz. 

[busstopbilly]: What a way to start the day. What happened? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: STUPID FUCKING IDIOT ANNOYING GUY I TOLD U ABOUT JUST HAD TO BE A FUCKING PRICK THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING 

[lizontopoftheworld]: HE WAS JUST DOUBTING ME LIKE HE ALWAYS DOES BC I KNOW HE DOESN’T WANT ME TO BE HERE OR HE THINKS I DON’T DESERVE TO BE 

[busstopbilly]: Hey. 

[busstopbilly]: You deserve to be there. What the prick thinks doesn’t matter. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’m so frustrated I WILL KILL HIM 

[busstopbilly]: I fear you’re incriminating me as an accomplice to murder. 

[busstopbilly]: So very flattered I’ve been chosen as your closest confidante. 

[busstopbilly]: I know that you think he has something over you because his family has ties to research and has been in the field for years. 

[busstopbilly]: That doesn’t make him better than you. 

[busstopbilly]: I’d argue that the spot that you hold is way more important. You actually bring something new to the table. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah yeah i know i worked to be here im capable blah blah blah blah 

[lizontopoftheworld]: just doesn’t feel that way sometimes 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i guess i’ll just put my head down and do the work to prove myself 

[busstopbilly]: That’s my girl. 

[busstopbilly]: You’ve got this. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i hope ur morning is better than mine…

[busstopbilly]: Quite the contrary. I fear I was told only a few minutes prior that the devil himself will be making an appearance today. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: NO WAY

[lizontopoftheworld]: YOUR DAD? 

[busstopbilly]: The one and only. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’ll get through it. it’s just one day. 

[busstopbilly]: Quite hopeful of you. We’ll see how it goes. 

[lizonstopoftheworld]: HE WON’T STOP U DOCTOR BILLY!!!! 

[lizontopoftheworld]: MEDICAL DOCTOR BILLY 

it’s the first time eren’s smiled since his early meeting with hange at the coffee shop. he should have known something was strange from the start – his weekly meeting being pushed up to the start of the day, being offered free coffee – sweetness like that only came from hange when they thought it was something that was warranted. 

and seeing his dad was no easy feat. unfortunately for him, word had somehow gotten out to his dad that he had deflected to a clinical study with the shiganshina medical school neurosurgery department – something that warranted him coming all the way down here to discuss it with him personally. 

he was anticipating the same problem as usual. another check in to make sure that eren was staying focused on his career – his career in academia – and that he was holding up to his family name. he came from a family of sixth generation neuroscientists and he wasn’t going to be the one to break the streak now. 

which killed his dreams of being a medical doctor in his tracks. all of the stuff that he got to do in undergrad was afforded to him because his dad thought it was just a phase – him working as a first responder, volunteering at free health clinics – before he was harshly put in line at the end of his senior year. 

it was looking rather bleak a year into his phd. but hange was trying to help him as much as they could. 

[busstopbilly]: Funny. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :PPPPP 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you will do what you want to do or so help me GOD. 

[busstopbilly]: Not really how that works, Liz. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: eh. 

[lizontopoftheworld[: i’ll get you there >:) 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you will be a doctor, billy. 

[busstopbilly]: You’re very hopeful, Liz. I like that about you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: MARRY ME! 

--

“what did you do as an undergrad for research?” gabi asks. 

every week, there are two mandatory in person days that everyone has to be present in the laboratory. monday for lab meetings, where everyone cycles through presenting their research or relevant papers, and wednesdays, for team building lab lunches. 

part of levi and hange’s grant money is allocated to pay for the lunches every week, as part of team building and more casual discourse about what everyone was working on. 

“armin, eren, and i actually did research here. armin and i had been here since our sophomore year but eren joined us when he was a senior.” mikasa states. 

“we actually used to be in your spot, if that gives you any hope.” armin offers, giving her and falco a smile. 

falco and gabi are the only two undergraduate students who are involved over the summer. there’s usually a set of five or six undergraduate students that assist during the calendar year, but the two of them had applied and been selected to partake in a competitive summer research fellowship, which afforded you their presence now. 

falco was going to be assisting you on the magnetic stimulation project that you were working on; you had taken on mentoring him, alongside levi, for the past few months in preparation for the fellowship and his eventual application to a phd program at the end of the year. he was a sweet kid, one that very hauntingly reminded you of yourself, and in a weird way – it almost made you determined to see him succeed. 

gabi was working with eren on the new clinical study that he was going to be doing under hange, since she had eventual goals to pursue a career in clinical psychology. she was a sneaky applicant, meaning she didn’t come into it as prepared as falco. and unfortunately enough, eren left her to her own devices to figure things on her own a lot of the time – and you appreciated that she had yet to be discouraged. she was determined to prove herself. 

“i used to do research under nanaba in the maternal health lab. i spent all of undergrad doing a research study on the neurological changes that different birth control brands cause.” sasha states. 

sasha is the person that you feel closest to in the lab, besides maybe connie. she was definitely the most personable of the group – the most of them being a little more awkward and reserved – and she was always willing to help you out when you needed it. 

she was a big personality. and you’re sure that it’s the part of you deep down that’s messed up – that gets jealous, that doesn’t work like a real person – but there are rare moments throughout the day that she makes you feel small. and consequently, disgusting, because you’re unsure how someone sweet could bring out something so sour in you. 

it said more about you than it did about her.

“annie and i worked with shadis over in the physical therapy department. they worked with technical eeg sometimes, which was mainly what we were focused in since we knew we wanted to come here eventually.” jean states. 

falco looks over at you, offering you a sympathetic smile, as gabi turns over to you, eyes expectant. 

“and you?” gabi asks. 

you shove your fork deep into the leaves of the salad. 

“i didn’t go here for undergrad. you wouldn’t know where i came from.” you state.

gabi gives you a nod, as she dives deep into asking sasha about her experiences with working under nanaba, as you feel your cheeks glowing under the heat. you weren’t embarrassed of it – in fact, very determined to not be embarrassed of it – but sometimes it felt like a stark reminder that you were the only one who got to the same place in a different way. 

you quickly type underneath the table. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: do you ever feel like you’ll never belong, no matter what you do? 

three feet way, at the very end of the table, eren’s having the most uncomfortable conversation amongst the crowd. nestled in between hange and levi, across from his dad and erwin, his brain feels like it’s heavy. 

“i just don’t understand the direction that we’re taking with his thesis. this doesn’t really match the psychosocial work that he was doing before.” grisha states. 

“he’s just trying something new. it doesn’t have to go in his thesis.” hange offers. 

eren watches as his eye twitches. 

“my fear here is that this will become the main focus of his thesis. i would just prefer for him to be focusing on his goal here.” grisha asserts. 

eren watches as levi clenches his jaw. 

“it’s a holistic program, dr. jaeger. we would be doing your son a disservice, as a researcher and neuroscientist, if we kept him so…razor focused on one thing.” levi responds. 

“i don’t think eren is even qualified to work with these patient populations. he doesn’t have a license or the experience.” grisha states. 

“we have the tools to help him here. that’s a non-issue.” hange offers. 

“we appreciate the advisement and the direction, dr. jaeger, and we will keep you updated as things will progress. eren is very bright and motivated, that much is sure, and i can promise you myself that he will be just as successful and fulfilled as you would like him to be.” erwin offers. 

it was ironic. but eren knew that erwin was just playing to the role that he had to play here – being the diplomat that he was trained to be. and while the words were laced with politeness, the message was there – that his call was final. and while erwin’s direction alway seemed to place people in the most ideal situations, eren always felt like he was going to get the short end of the deal wherever he went. 

he got a clinical study, but his dad will stop him from pursing it too much. the clinical study is close to what he wants to do, but not exactly. he’ll spend his entire life three steps behind where he wants to go and unable to do anything to stop it. 

he looks at his phone under the table and it softens the terseness in his chest. 

[busstopbilly]: All the time, Liz. 

he watches the little typing bubbles appear, before fighting the urge to smile fully. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: <3 

--

“do you have a minute?” 

you look up from the lines of code to find levi – your thesis advisor and mentor – peering over the wall of your cubicle, eyes expectant as they wait for an answer. you give him a nod, following his gesture, as you make the way down to the office. 

levi’s stoic. very stoic and sometimes you don’t know how to act. but in a weird way, sometimes that’s what you appreciate about him – that it doesn’t take a lot of effort, that you don’t have to rehearse what it is that you’re going to say to him for small talk in the mirror, because you can almost count on the fact that he won’t oblige to that anyways. 

hange and eren are at his desk, eyes pouring over a document on eren’s laptop, as you give them a wave and take the seat next to levi. eren swallows hard – and you note that the rims of his eyes are red – before focusing in on what levi is saying. 

“you do have that experience, right?” levi asks. 

you look over at him, before giving him an awkward smile. 

“sorry, what?” 

“you used to be a behavioral technician, right? back in marley?” levi clarifies. 

“oh! yes, yes, i did. why do you ask?” 

levi nods, before sliding a set of files over to you. 

“eren’s working on a clinical study. we talked with the administrators at the hospital and the college about it and they’d prefer if someone who had experience working with similar patient populations was working on this with him.” 

you open up the file to see the letters in bright bold lettering, staring back at you. and it makes your throat itch a little bit, as you look back up at levi. 

“right, so what do i need to do?” you ask. 

“you’ll just accompany eren when he needs to converse with patients, at the minimum. you’re welcome to take on more of a lead role with eren if you would like.” 

you look over at eren, who looks deeply unhappy that he has to succumb to getting help from the likes of someone like you, and it’s quite possibly the only reason that you decide you’re going to do it. 

and it irritates eren. irritates eren that his dad was able to butt in enough to convice everyone that he needed a babysitter, and that he’d need to be around you more than the allocated two  hours that he saw you every week.  

“of course.” you offer. 

and at the end of the very long day, when eren can finally quietly drive home and settle into his bed, he indulges in the only part of the day that he can enjoy. the one part of his day where he isn’t grisha jaeger’s son or a phd student or a neuroscientist – he was just eren. or billy, if he was going to focus on semantics.

[busstopbilly]: Liz. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: no hello? no good evening? no how was your day?

[busstopbilly]: Hello. Good evening. How was your day? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: hi billy boy! good evening to you too <3 my day was dogshit 

[busstopbilly]: Me too. 

[busstopbilly]: Did the prick do anything else? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: not rlly 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i just don’t get why he doesn’t like me and it drives me crazy. i don’t want to assume that it’s because of my background or anything like that, because i can’t fathom that people would actually be like that, but it can’t help but feel that way :/ 

[busstopbilly]: Unfortunately, I think he’s just going to be the first of a very long list of pricks that you meet in academia. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah…just feels really bleak that my parents and i like…did so much to get me here and i still won’t ever belong 

[busstopbilly]: You’ll call the shots one day. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: how was the talk with daddy-o

[busstopbilly]: It irritates me that he can weasel his way into everything. I would like to have something that’s just mine. 

[busstopbilly]: Like, when I was in school as a kid, when I was an undergraduate student. Even the friends I had…

[busstopbilly]: I hate that he’s everywhere. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: was ur dad the guy who created the canary mate algorithm 

[busstopbilly]: No. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: boom. you have something that’s just yours. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: me. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ;) 

eren feels his cheeks blush an embarrassing shade of red.

[busstopbilly]: Quit flirting. 

[busstopbilly]: I’m going to fall in love with you. 

you bite down hard into your cheek, before turning over in your sheets to the cool side of your bed. because this was definitively the best part of the day – the late night talking that you indulged in. because it was the one place where you weren’t you, where he couldn’t hold anything about your background or your past against you, and had to take what you were at face value. you were just you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: that was the plan all along :)

--

next part linked here

an: sorry ive been going through a lot and haven't written stuff lately. I actually was being randomly very critical of how this came out and just decided to yolo and post what I have

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!

[thestuffedalligator]

There’s a homunculus that lives on my desk. She sleeps in a box that used to hold incense, she bathes in a chipped coffee mug, and she tinkers inside an old radio I was never able to fix.

She looks a little bit like me.

Building a homunculus is a lot like building a ship in a bottle. It’s very fiddly, and at the end of the day it doesn’t do much besides prove that you have too much time on your hands. But sometimes while I’m working, I’ll look over and see her reading a book twice her height, walking along the pages with her hands clasped behind her back like she’s going on a stroll, and I’ll think: She’s happy. She’s cared for. And I’ll feel a little good about it.

Sometimes I wonder if it was wise to make her the way that I did.

It was a good idea at the time. Every time I felt a twinge of longing, I told myself, I would look over and see her and think, she’s happy, she’s cared for, and I wouldn’t have to want it for myself anymore, and I’d feel good about it.

And it did, for a while. But every now and then, I’ll look over at her, at how she looks like me and not like me, and how she’s so happy, and I think…

And that’s the problem. I don’t want to think about what it makes me think.

I’m terrified of a woman who could fit in a tissue box.

There’s a homunculus that lives on my desk. She sits on a drawstring bag full of dice, and when we share food she eats off a silver dollar.

Yesterday she got the cassette player in the radio working again.

She’s happy. She’s cared for.

And sometimes that’s enough.

[swappermanent]

Reverse Inheritance

The first time Leo told me he could astral project, I didn't think much of it. My grandson had been living with me ever since his father—my son—went to prison, and though he was 20n now, he still had that same wild imagination he'd had as a kid.

Just last month, he'd been on about reincarnation, saying he remembered fragments of past lives. And before that, he was convinced our neighbor was running a smuggling ring out of his garage. Normally, I didn’t mind letting him ramble on. But lately, I was starting to get a bit tired of it.

Today, however, Leo seemed particularly insistent. “I’m serious, Grandpa. I can do it. Astral projection. It’s real.”

I scoffed. "Alright, then. Let’s do a little experiment."

"Sure, what kind of experiment?"

I reached over to a drawer and pulled out an old deck of cards, shuffling them a couple of times until I was satisfied. I fanned the cards out, then carefully picked one from the middle, holding it up so only I could see. “If you’re telling the truth, you should be able to ~float out of your body~ and go behind me to tell me what this card is,” I challenged, leaning back.

Leo took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed, his shoulders relaxing in a way I’d never seen before. For a second, I actually thought he might’ve fallen asleep. But then, with his eyes still closed, he whispered, “Eight of spades.”

I froze.  Placing the card face up on the table—the eight of spades.

I forced a laugh. “Lucky guess. Let’s go again.”

Leo gave a small shrug and smirked. “Alright. Let’s.”

I shuffled the deck again, this time picking a card off the top. “Alright, wise guy,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “What is it?”

He closed his eyes again, barely a few seconds this time. “Three of hearts.”

I looked down at the card, and my stomach did a small flip. “Alright,” I said, trying to mask my surprise. “That was another good guess, I’ll give you that. Let’s see if you’re really up to it.”

This time, I picked three cards at once, spreading them face down on the table. “No way you’re getting all of these right,” I muttered, almost to myself.

But a few seconds later, He rattled them off without a second thought. “Queen of diamonds, five of clubs, ace of spades.”

I looked at each card in my hand, and they were all correct. My jaw dropped, and I couldn’t hide it. “Shit… wow,” I breathed. “Alright, kid, you got me. I believe you.”

Leo’s eyes opened, and he gave me a small, satisfied smile. “You want me to teach you how?”

My heart was pounding a little faster than usual. “You think I could?” I asked, half-joking but more curious than I wanted to let on.

Leo leaned forward, his face serious. “Yeah. But you have to really want to do it. Like, let go of everything. All those thoughts that keep you grounded here.”

"Let go of everything…" I repeated.

---

Over the next few weeks, Leo patiently taught me to master astral projection. At first, it felt like some sort of strange meditation. But gradually, I learned how to slip out of my physical body, just as Leo did, until I could stand beside myself, looking down at the slouched figure.

Each session, Leo and I would push the boundaries a little more. We couldn’t go too far since our astral projections only seemed to last about four hours at a time, and even then, we couldn’t travel much faster than a brisk jog. But I was fine with that; I wasn’t interested in dashing across the city, only in seeing how far I could push this strange new freedom.

When we’d reach the end of our limit and weren’t back in our bodies yet, something bizarre would happen. Our astral selves would start to get get pulled back, as if our bodies had a magnetic force calling us home. Those first few times, it was disorienting, hurtling back through space until I snapped back into my skin, breathless, my heart pounding. Leo explained that it was the body’s way of keeping us tethered, that if we stayed out too long, our astral forms would dissipate like smoke, and we’d cease to exist.

“Cease to exist?” I asked him one night, feeling the weight of that warning.

Leo nodded, his face solemn. “I haven’t pushed it that far, Grandpa. And I don’t think we should. The pull back gets stronger the closer we get to that limit. But if we ignore it…” He shrugged, letting the words hang in the air, dark and final.

Still, despite the risk, I found myself craving these nightly adventures. For the first time in years, I felt alive, truly alive. As someone who’d all but resigned myself to the slow, tired rhythms of old age, it was thrilling. But as our nights stretched on, I started to wonder about Leo’s fascination with this skill. He was young; he didn’t have a curfew, he didn’t have an old, weary body holding him back. He could be out living his life instead of hovering in ghostly form around the house or strolling through empty streets with his old grandpa. What was he getting out of this?

One night, as we settled into our chairs to begin our ritual, I glanced over at Leo’s body. He’d gotten comfortable, his head tilted back, his breathing already slowing, his eyelids fluttering shut. It struck me how young and full of life he looked, even when he was so still. I felt an odd pang of longing, a desire that surprised me in its intensity.

When had I last felt young? Truly young, without the weight of decades pressing down on my shoulders? What would it be like to feel like that one more time, to feel that boundless energy I saw in Leo.

As Leo’s breathing grew steady, his astral self drifting beside me, I looked back at his empty body, sitting there, vulnerable and untouched. The thought tugged at me, and for a moment, I felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out, take his body for myself just for one fleeting moment

---

The idea had been lingering in the back of my mind for weeks now. Every time I saw Leo drifting out of his body, the temptation grew a little stronger.

He was shy about his body, sure, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that felt like a betrayal somehow, slipping into him without asking. But there’s no way he’d ever say yes. Besides, I would be in and out before he’d ever know, right?

Finally, I gathered the courage. One evening, Leo announced he was heading out and asked me to join. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, wanna come with,” he said with a grin as he leaned back, his breathing slowing as he began the process.

I shook my head no, feigning sleepiness. “I’ll stay in tonight,” I replied. “I could use the rest.”

As his body drifted to sleep, I waited, counting each minute until I was sure his astral form was far enough away. Then, with my heart racing, I initiated my own astral walk and hovered towards his body .

A deep anticipation rushed over me as I prepared to enter. “Just a half hour, tops” I told myself.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to slip in as gently as possible. But something was wrong. As soon as I began, it felt as if I were pushing against a wall. I couldn’t just slide in like I usually did with my own body. I adjusted my position, aligning myself more carefully with his form, and tried again. This time, I felt a bit of give, and gradually, I was able to push through, inch by inch.

First my legs merged with his, then my torso. I felt the strength in his muscles as I took on his form. I kept pushing, my hands now matching his, aligning, filling out his arms, until finally, my head was nearly there, just hovering over his own.

But then, out of nowhere, I saw Leo’s astral form float towards me from across the room, his face a mixture of shock and fear. Me entering his body must’ve attracted his astral form back as a defense mechansim. Panic flared within me. If he re-entered his body while I was halfway in… I didn’t even know what would happen, but I didn’t want to find out. Before he could reach me, I shoved my head down, slipping fully inside.

---

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was fully conscious—inside Leo’s body. My vision felt sharper, my muscles responsive, and as I looked down, I took in his smooth, toned arms, the strength and youth radiating through every limb. It was exhilarating.

I hopped up, feeling the lightness in my step that I hadn’t felt in years. Each movement was effortless, as if my body itself had forgotten what it meant to be heavy. I walked around the room, flexing his hands, rolling his shoulders, feeling every inch of youth as it coursed through me.

But then I felt something odd—a light tapping on my stomach, almost like a faint punch or a persistent nudge. Instinctively, I flexed Leo’s abs, the sensation dulling a bit, and that’s when it hit me. That tapping—that was Leo, trying to get his body back.

“Leo…” I whispered, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, kid. I’ll be out soon, I promise.”

I let myself enjoy the feeling of his body, each sensation crisp and vivid. As I explored myself, I felt a familiar tension grow in my pants, one that I hadn’t felt in years. Instinctively, I reached down to my waistband and grabbed down to tug at my new, surprisingly hairy ball sack. That was enough to get my cock to throb.

I began stroking my new, uncut cock while feeling up my smooth torso with my other hand. As I did, my mind wandered to all the hot guys I could pull in this body if Leo ever let me borrow it again. Concentrating on that thought was all it took to send me over the edge. Slowly and sensually tugging at my shaft, I spurted all over my chest, completely draining mysefl.

Finally, as I lay back into the bed, a wave of satisfaction washed over me, leaving me feeling both exhilarated and calm. The room was warm and quiet, and with the last bit of energy fading from me, I felt a sudden drowsiness settle in. I lay down, and before I could convince myself to leave, I drifted into sleep, enveloped in the softness of youth and the quiet of Leo’s room.

--

I jolted awake, my heart racing as I felt hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me roughly. Blinking in confusion, I looked up—and there was my old, familiar face, creased with panic and rage, staring down at me.

“What the hell did you do?” he demanded, his voice hoarse and furious.

It took me a second to process, my mind still foggy from sleep. I tried to sit up, disoriented, and felt the youthful energy of Leo’s body springing into action, as if the night hadn’t worn it down in the slightest.

“What…” I managed, words failing me. But he kept going, too upset to wait for me to catch up.

“I had no choice but to take your body,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Otherwise, I’d have just… disappeared. Astral projection doesn’t work for body swapping. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I never told you that because I didn’t think you’d ever try something like this.”

The full weight of his words settled over me, each one hitting like a cold punch. “So… we can’t just switch back?”

He shook his—my—head, a bitter smile flashing across his face. “No. There's a refractory period before we can attempt any switch again. It’s designed to prevent exactly what you just did. We’d have to wait ten years before we could even try to go back.”

“Ten years…” I repeated, the words sinking in like stones in my stomach. My old body—now his—was 90. I knew my own heart, knew how every joint ached, knew how every year was harder than the last. The odds of it lasting another decade were slim to none.

The guilt knotted in my chest, sharp and sour. I opened my mouth to apologize, to try to explain, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say?

But then, unbidden, a different thought crept in. In ten years, this body would be 30. That meant I had Leo’s—my entire 20s to live again, the years I’d once cherished and missed deeply. I looked down at my youthful hands, the strength and vitality I could feel coursing through every inch of Leo’s body, and felt a strange, conflicted thrill rise within me.

He must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because his face—my old, familiar face—darkened. “Are you… are you happy about this?” he whispered, incredulous.

I shook my head, trying to fight the feelings rising up within me, but they were relentless. The shame of it burned hot, yet I couldn’t deny the excitement simmering just beneath.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression steady. “Leo,” I said softly, but I didn’t know how to finish.

He watched me, a flash of betrayal in his eyes as he seemed to understand, even without me saying it. And then, with a bitter laugh, he turned away.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. Fuck, this’ll be fun.