#he might have to do this before they're even slightly friendly at all

[bonkalore]

I really would like to finish this one, but not sure when I will... One of the earlier concepts I really want to keep in the AU of basically a magic DMV where you have to register glamour IDs, flight licenses, etc, but not sure where it fits atm.

Modern fantasy comes with modern problems! Jayce is getting his human glamour here and Lucy is making sure he does it lol

[tacticaldiary]

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

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

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

[boyfiejay]

Princess Treatment with Sunghoon 🎀

PAIRING : Sunghoon x hyper feminine Reader

GENRE : bullet points, sunshine x grumpy

Warning : reader wears skirts, mention of food, reader gets spoiled, hoon can't express his feelings well, kissing, a little suggestive at the end but nothing graphic

Word Count : 1.3k

Author's note : this is just me having a sunghoon brain rot...

●You two were friends for a long time before you got together. Everyone around you witnessed Sunghoon going from the cold, distant guy, to then a slightly more friendly guy to a completely lovestruck puppy

●You two getting together was inevitable tbh, you two just knew the other was the one

●Sunghoon is so whipped for you, the partner privilege is so intense

●If he sees his favourite tiramisu has a bite in it, he's all mad but if he gets to know that you ate it then he just gives the whole thing to you

●All it takes is a doe eyed look and man is folding

●Also he is always talking about you. Like everyone around him knows he has a partner, constantly rambling about anything that reminds him of you or dropping random facts about you

●It is to the point that Heeseung knew your go to order at your favourite cafe and the kind of drink you like

●Do not mention the way he just giggles and kicks his feet like a teenage girl when you do something adorable

●It doesn't even have to be anything cute, he just always finds you cute no matter what

●You just woke up? Beautiful. You are crying? Still pretty. You're dolled up all for him? Oh man...

●This man is obsessed with your skirts and knee high socks and sweaters, particularly if they are ruffled

●He is like drooling when you dress up just for him and do a little twirl

●Always insists on tying your bows and ribbons for you

●Then proceeds to tie one on his bicep and flexes it 😵 (he's so hot)

●He's such a gentleman, but one thing he loves to do is give you his jacket. It doesn't even matter if it isn't cold, or your outfit isn't short, the jacket just completes the look

●He also feels so giddy when you wear his clothes, goes through a mental crisis trying not to smother you with attention

●Fails at it, then continues to give you that whipped smile and just looking at you with so much love

●The attention makes you flustered and shy and that in turn makes him even giddier

●It's sometimes overwhelming how he looks at you with so much adoration

●But thats what makes you know that he does love you because he is not very good at words

●When anyone looks at sunghoon, let's be honest he's intimidating, tall and buff, anyone would be scared.

●But he'd be so so gentle with you, always making sure you're comfortable, holding your hand in crowds, and also giving you flowers :(

●Even his touch in general would be so gentle, he's always touching you as if you would break any second

●He's not great with pda, it makes him a bit uncomfortable to be so mushy with you with people watching.

●But behind closed doors, he's acting like your blanket, always all over you, not a single soul would believe that he's the clingy type

●Calls you cringey nicknames, but the one he likes for himself is 'hoonie' </33

●Literally if anyone else says hoonie, he's giving the nastiest side eye

●But if it's you, he's melting on the floor...

●Some might not like this one, but he's very protective over you. It's not that he doesn't believe that you can't defend yourself, but he can't help but look over you from time to time

●He never speaks up about anything, but if anyone makes you uncomfortable? Oh they're done for

●It's never a physical fight, rather a verbal one with him makes sure that person feels bad for even looking at you

●Thinks you're the cutest when you're mad or annoyed

●Bro just laughs when you are grumbling about something 😭

●Then you proceed to get mad at him and he just clings to you until you forgive him

●As obsessed he is with your clothing, he is also obsessed with buying stuff for you.

●He's always spoiling you, no matter how much you tell him to stop he still does it

●Sometimes you actually get mad and he just gives one pout or a puppy eyed stare and you forgive him. He doesn't even have to whine about spoiling you just this once

●You're just as whipped as he is...

●Sometimes he likes to give you handmade things, paper flowers, love letters, little album of your photos, bracelets and soo much more

●You have a huge box of things he's given, made it his mission to fill up that box by a set time

●He once broke your vase by mistake and then took a pottering class to make you a mini version of that vase (the bigger one kept falling apart) :(((

●Never ever raised his voice on you, like not even once. He can barely get mad at you, this man is never going to yell at you

●Even when you do fight, he tries his best to be calm and talk it out. There hasn't been a single time where he let you go to bed upset

●There are a lot of times when he's just quite and you're talking about something, at first you question whether he's listening or not but he nods along with your talking or hums at things

●It's a bit scary how he remembers stuff you just rambled so well, like you don't even like that new cafe that much but you're so in awe of how well he remembered your words

●He's extremely shy when it comes to professing his love to you, it just makes him annoyed that he can't say how much he loves you.

●What more annoying is that you never push him to say things, he doesn't like that you're so understanding about this

●That's when he started to write letters for you, he felt like he might combust with how much he feels for you. And not being able to say it out loud made it worse

●So he just writes out how he feels and puts it under your pillow, or on your desk or in your bag

●When he first wrote the letter, he insisted that you read in front of him, wanting his fears to at lower a bit

●But when you started tearing up he felt worse, he had tried to keep the letter a bit lowkey but you're tearing up from the bare minimum?

●From then on he tried to be more open about his feelings, and be more vulnerable around you. He wanted you to know that it was just you, it had always been you

●His family loves you so much, it's almost like you are the daughter

●His mom and sister love to tell embarrassing stories about him and make him suffer lmao

●'she's too good for you' his mom, apparently

●He was so shy when you two first kissed, skip to couple weeks later, hes basically devouring your lips

●Very very obsessed with kissing you, no matter what you're doing he's staring at your lips, no thoughts head empty just lips and kisses

●He has to makeout with you at least once a day, it doesn't matter if things never escalate, he just likes the feeling of you being close to him

●Practically melts if you stroke the back of his head or pull his hair

●He gets cock blocked by someone whenever you give him the green signal to continue, he once even chased Jake around because he just burst in without knocking

●He wasnt mad that he couldn't continue, rather it was because he was going to remove your shirt just before he burst in

●Very possessive about what's his but doesnt even bat an eye if you're the one asking for things

●The guys are honestly jealous about how sunghoon only laughs or smiles due to two reasons, either it's lame ass jokes or because of you

●I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA :ʼ(

[st4rfckerz]

house sitter | anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: MDNI 18+, kinda non con ???, somnophilia, groping, unprotected sex, creampie, infedelity, mild degradation, fingering, oral (f receiving), age gap (anakins in his 30s, reader is an adult), anakin's a pervert.

summary: you watch over the skywalker's home while they're out on a date.

a/n: this might be all over the place so i apologize BUT this is actually the idea i was talking about when i posted "i just woke up with the horniest fic idea."

house sitting was without a doubt the easiest job you'd ever had. all you had to do was lounge around in expensive homes and watch out for intrusions, which, for the record, hardly ever happen.

the famous skywalker family had employed you to watch over their house while they went on dates, visited other planets, etc. you had gotten to know the couple pretty well, especially anakin since he was always friendly with you and often times would spend time speaking to you, although it was never anything more than just light conversation for him.

you noticed that anakin had spent more time talking to you lately and was starting to become a little bit more attentive towards you, he had always been kind and friendly but you felt his friendliness had become more... intentional, but maybe you were just imagining things.

padmé called you to inform you that she and anakin were going out to dinner and would be gone for the majority of the evening.

you've just pulled up to the skywalkers' driveway, parked your car, and started approaching the stone walkway. after a few knocks, anakin finally opens the door with a small grin plastered across his face. he couldn't help but feel a certain thrill at the thought of having you around again.

"hey, glad you could make it." anakin greeted you at the door, his dark blue eyes took you in for a moment before he steps to the side to let you in. padmé approaches you while still putting in her earrings.

"thank you so much for watching the house while we're gone," she beams.  padmé's enthusiastic behavior always made you smile. 

"of course, padmé. your house is in good hands." you replied with a gentle smile. anakin caught your gaze and you couldn't help but notice the way he was looking at you. his eyes had an almost dreamy but slightly lustful gleam about them. you choose to ignore it and bring your attention back to padmé.

"we'll be back at around midnight." as anakin and padmé bid their farewells and depart for their much-anticipated date night, you find yourself standing alone in the grandeur of their house. the silence envelopes you, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

you take a moment to admire the opulence surrounding you, marveling at the elegant decor and lavish furnishings. the house was a reflection of anakin and padmé's status and influence, a testament to their power. as you explore the various rooms, you can't help but imagine the passionate moments that must have unfolded within these walls.

the master bedroom beckons to you with its inviting ambiance - a room that surely holds countless memories for anakin and padmé. you imagine them tangled in each other's arms, their bodies entwined, lost in a world of whispered promises and shared desires. a wicked thought creeps into your mind - a fantasy of being the one who arouses such passion in anakin.

shaking off the enticing daydream, you divert your attention to the rest of the house.

you stumble upon anakin's personal study. your interest is sparked because, although it was normally locked, it was slightly open. it was a room filled with ancient jedi texts and mechanical tools. it's here that his true nature is laid bare. the forceful fervor with which he delves into his studies mirrors the intensity with which he pursues everything else in his life. you can't help but be drawn to his passion, intrigued by the raw power that lies within him.

you come across a bookshelf filled with an assortment of literary gems. pulling out a weathered book, you settle into a plush armchair, relishing the tranquility. lost in your thoughts, you find yourself sinking into anakin's chair, surrounded by his aura.

you open the book slowly, the faint smell of aged paper wafting up to greet you. each word holds the potential to shape the very fabric of your understanding of the force.

as you begin to read, the words dance across the page, captivating your attention. the author's insights into the force captivate your imagination, revealing ancient practices and techniques that have long been forgotten. you find yourself engrossed in the descriptions of lightsaber combat, the delicate balance necessary to harness the power of the force, and the connection between the physical and spiritual realms.

lost in the world of the book, you almost forget the reason for your presence in this house. the vivid descriptions transport you to a realm where you are the jedi, wielding a lightsaber with grace and precision, matching anakin's own skills in the heat of battle. you imagine his presence beside you, his body pressed against yours, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses. your mind is left with the image, a luring invitation to give in to the craving.

a sense of guilt washes over you like a bitter tide. anakin is still married to padmé, having these thoughts feels wrong. thoughts of anakin, his intense gaze, and his tempting touch linger. anakin and padmé's love is palpable, their connection evident in every glance and tender gesture. you brush off your thoughts and pick up the book to divert your attention once more.

you make your way down to the living room, with the book in your hand, and you find a cozy spot on the plush couch. the room is dimly lit, casting a soft glow on the surroundings. settling into the cushions, you open the book, eager to immerse yourself in its pages.

as you continue to read the exciting stories within the book, a wave of drowsiness washes over you. the cozy atmosphere of the living room lulls you into a tranquil state.

your eyelids grow heavy, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the plush cushions of the couch. the words on the pages begin to blur, the lines fading into a hazy backdrop and before you know it, sleep claims you completely.

about an hour or so later, anakin arrives home unexpectedly. stepping through the door, an unexpected sight greets his eyes. there you are, sound asleep on the couch, his gaze drifts down to the book resting against your stomach.

"nosy girl." anakin mutters. his mouth curves into a sly smirk as a sinister thought starts to take shape. he sets the forgotten item aside, his attention now fixated on the curves of your body, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. slowly, he approaches, his footsteps barely audible against the soft carpet.

with a gentle touch, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingertips lingering on your skin for a brief moment. he contemplates waking you, but the feeling of his dick twitching from inside his pants leads him in a different direction.

you looked so peaceful, so perfect. anakin finds himself yearning for the sound of your voice, the touch of your skin against his, the taste of your lips.

anakin's hand reaches out tentatively. his fingers brush against your cheek, the touch soft and delicate. with each stroke of his fingertips, anakin's touch becomes bolder, his hand gradually sliding downward. his fingers trail lower, caressing the delicate curve of your collarbone before continuing their descent.

he runs his fingers over the top of your breasts, then reaches down to cup one, giving it a light squeeze. he groans slightly, feeling his growing erection press harder against the zipper of his pants.

anakin's hands began to slide up under your shirt, rubbing small circles over your hardening nipples. his fingers moved slowly along the soft skin of your stomach, grazing your hip bones before coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. he watched intently as your body responded to his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. with a confident yet tender touch, anakin begins to slowly slide your pants down your legs. his eyes devoured the sight of your panties.

a grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed the adorable pattern of small flowers adorning the white fabric, adding an innocent touch to the moment.

"oh poor baby." he coos. his fingers skimmed lightly over the fabric that covered your core. feeling the dampness seeping through the fabric, anakin's eyes sparked with desire. unable to resist, he carefully slipped his hand beneath you, skillfully removing the delicate fabric and stashing them in his pocket without disturbing your peaceful slumber.

anakin marveled at the sight before him, the delicate folds of your wetness glistening in the dim light of the room. he couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty. the sight of you laid bare, vulnerable and inviting, sent a surge of anticipation through his veins.

with a gentle touch, he traced his fingers along your inner thighs, relishing in the softness of your skin. his gaze locked onto your core, his desire burning hotter with each passing second. he wanted nothing more than to taste you, to bring you pleasure in the most intimate way possible.

anakin lowered himself onto his knees, ensuring every movement he made was as silent and gentle as possible. he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving your pussy.

as he prepared himself to taste you, anakin carefully parted your folds. with a controlled release of his breath, he lowers his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue tracing a path along your folds. anakin moans lowly as he inserts a single finger inside of you, feeling how tight and warm you were.

anakin's movements were gentle yet purposeful, each lick and slow curl of his finger intended to bring you closer to the edge of pleasure. he was careful to maintain a rhythm that wouldn't wake you up.

as his tongue danced across your heated pussy, he couldn't help but be entranced by the way your body responded to his ministrations. the twitches and shudders, the soft moans that slipped past your lips—each one only fueled his own desire to give you more.

anakin pulls himself away from your drooling cunt once he feels that you're getting close.

"not yet baby, i wanna feel you cum on my cock." he whispers while pulling off his belt and shoving his boxers and pants all the way down to his ankles. his cock stands proudly, a small bead of precum dribbling down his shaft. anakin strokes himself a few times before carefully positioning himself between your legs and entering your pussy completely.

a moan escapes his lips as he firmly thrusts into you. he moved cautiously at first, savoring the exquisite tightness of your embrace as he began a slow rhythm, each thrust drawing him further into a frenzy of arousal.

anakin reveled in the feel of your cunt gripping him tightly, the way your walls massaged his length with each thrust. he was lost in the intoxicating sensation, focusing solely on the raw pleasure that consumed him.

you gasp loudly in shock, finally emerging from your sleep, and anakin hastily turns to face you.

"anak-" anakin's large hand abruptly covered your mouth, silencing your words before they could form completely. his intense gaze bore into your eyes, his face dangerously close to yours.

"finally awake now huh?" he teases, his voice laced with a hint of delighted amusement. he allowed himself a moment to revel in the fear that flared in your eyes, the allure of pushing boundaries and igniting forbidden desires too tempting to resist.

as he continued thrusting into your abused cunt, his motions grew more purposeful and commanding.

anakin's voice, dripping with authority, took on a more degrading tone. "my little bookworm couldn't help herself, hm? just had to go snooping around." he nods in the direction of his office.

"been thinking about this pussy ever since i hired you," he pants in between thrusts. "i've seen the way you look at me. eye fucking me every chance you get, right in front of my wife too? dirty, dirty girl." anakin chuckles, shaking his head.

as your bodies entwined, he deliberately increased the intensity of each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls.

anakin felt a mixture of ecstasy and need flood his senses as your core compressed around his length, causing his breath to get caught in his throat. the intensity of the moment fueled his own arousal, pushing him closer to the edge of his own climax.

"cum for me baby, i know you're close." his words sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, fanning the flames of your arousal. anakin's hands gripped your body with an undeniable possessiveness, his body moving with an inescapable rhythm that drove you closer to the edge of release.

anakin's hand remained firmly covering your mouth, your moans muffled as you finally tip over the edge. he continued to thrust into you, his pace steady as he chased his own orgasm. anakin's body convulsed, his cock twitching deep within your pussy. you could feel his hot cum painting your insides. anakin's movements finally come to a stop before he pulls out of your sore cunt.

he swiftly pulled up his pants and underwear, his movements were tinged with a cold detachment. without a word, he threw your pants in your direction, his actions lacking the tenderness he had displayed moments before. the forceful gesture caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily stunned as she caught the garment.

"next time, we'll put that pretty mouth to good use." his hand gently cupped your cheek, giving it a few taps. his touch a mixture of possessiveness and affection.

with a last lingering look, he slowly made his way towards the door, leaving you behind, savoring the remnants of your passionate encounter. the room carried the heady scent of your intimacy, an echo of the fervent connection you and anakin had shared.

as you put your pants on, you see the book on the floor that you carried down from anakin's office. you close it after picking it up and place it on the coffee table in front of you. the weight of guilt bore down on you, tainting the air in the room with a mix of remorse and self-doubt. your head buried in your hands, you grappled with the conflicting feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

the memory of your intimate connection replayed in your mind, it almost made you feel sick. a pang of empathy pierced through you. padmé flashed in your mind, her image haunting and filled you with concern.

you continued to house sit, carrying the weight of your guilt alongside your duties. in the midst of the forbidden desires that you and anakin shared, you sought solace in fulfilling your responsibilities, hoping that in time, the guilt would fade, and clarity would guide you towards a resolution.

[benedictscanvas]

gentle hands, ankle clasps - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!actress!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: mindless fluff, language, allusions to smut but nothing remotely explicit (that should be blanket warning for every fic i write, it's never smut but the characters are almost always slightly horny maybe i'm projecting)

request: hey can i request a roy fic with the reader being an actress of some sort and being like bubbly compared to him - anon

a/n: back with roy again, being a comforting little shit. another chapter of be still, my foolish heart coming tomorrow, but thought i'd treat myself to a request in between! if you have sent a request, thank you!! they're all fucking incredible and please rest assured, i will be getting to them over the next week or so <3

---

Roy’s arm, firm around your waist, is practically the only thing keeping you upright. Why your stylist had insisted on these heels, and the height of them, you had no idea. Yes, you were a strong capable woman who could handle whatever life threw at you - apparently not counting these shoes.

“Think they’ll find it cute or nauseating if I carry you inside?” he whispers in your ear, temple pressed firm against yours. You tip your nose into his cheek affectionately.

“I’d find it nauseatingly sweet if you did,” you murmur, blocking out the shouts and flashes from ahead of you, “But the headlines would all be about my inability to walk in heels. I can’t give them the satisfaction.”

Roy nods, and pulls you in even tighter to him by the waist, glowering at the cameras again. You rest your hand on his chest in a tried and tested pose, one leg in front of the other, hip jutting out. Your bright smile was a much talked about contrast to Roy’s own expression, but the pictures were still ones you treasured.

You caught Keeley out of the corner of your eye, her and Jamie posing for photos of their own. Normally, you might have ran over to greet them but since you currently couldn't run, you just waved, mouthing a 'thank you!' to them for coming. Keeley offered you a shocked look at how good your outfit was, while Jamie just saluted. You could feel Roy’s arm moving and knew what he was about to do, so you grasped it lightly in your own.

“No middle fingers at my premiere,” you hiss at him, under the guise of the same bright smile. You feel his chuckle in his chest under your palm and you relent, bringing his hand up to your lips to press a kiss to each knuckle before you let it go, “Thank you.”

He grunts and you nod your appreciation to the camera people before moving on, allowing Roy to propel you forward as you fight to keep your balance. However uncomfortable you were, at least you knew you looked damn good. When you’d done a twirl for Roy before the two of you left earlier, he’d just stood there silently. He stared at you for fucking ages. You think he’s still frustrated that you stopped him when he started toying with the zipper because you weren’t willing to be fashionably late.

“Think you can cope?” Roy asks, pulling you out of your thoughts as he gestures to the next lot of paparazzi who are this time clamouring for some solo shots of you. You kiss Roy’s cheek and nod at him, pushing him gently out of the way with a laugh as you assume your previous pose but with a hand on your hip instead.

There’s a woman waving a microphone at you and you squint at her, then eagerly hike up your dress as realisation dawns.

“Hannah! How are you?” you greet warmly, kissing both cheeks and taking hold of her hand, “It’s so good to see a friendly face.” “These things are quite overwhelming,” she agrees, holding up her microphone in a way that you’re used to. No, you and Hannah weren’t friends, but you were friendly and that counted just as much in this world, “But you’re going to have to get them used to them, honey! Your third big movie this year, how do you find the time?”

“Oh, I made a deal with the devil long ago, Hannah,” you laugh, annoyed with yourself that its not your real laugh. Maybe tonight really was a little overwhelming, “No, in all seriousness, I’m just honoured to have gotten the chance to work on not one but three incredible projects in such a short period of time. I’ve been lucky.”

Your eyes find Roy’s. He’s stood just a few metres away, ready to dart in and take you away if you give him the signal. He’s a godsend and he’s perfected his routine of saving you and he gets away with it because he’s Roy Kent. It works wonders for you.

“Speaking of being lucky,” Hannah attempts a segue that you’re not sure even she’s sold on, “What’s up next for you? Another Hollywood blockbuster or some quiet time with that fella of yours?”

Hannah speaks in a very friendly way, so why do you have the sudden urge to go all Kent on her and tell her to kindly fuck off. You do a shaky exhale with your mouth far enough away from the microphone as you scratch your temple with one finger. The signal.

“Ah, you know, I think it’s time that I-”

“Right, that’s enough,” Roy steps up, signature couldn’t give a fuck walk on display as his arm winds around your waist again and it feels like you can breathe once more, “Fuck off now, please. Thank you.”

And he gets you out of there. Steers you past the next batch of photographers entirely with a few middle fingers despite your earlier insistence. You’re too grateful to care, smiling at those you pass with ease since Roy is making it clear that you’re not stopping to talk. You see a few more Richmond faces as he opens the door to the cinema they’re screening the film in, some of which you actually wouldn’t mind speaking to, but you figure you’ll see them inside.

Once you’re in the door and Roy has shut it behind you, the first thing you do is let out a huge huff of breath, a release. He tilts his head at you knowingly.

“I love it when you’re simultaneously rude and polite, you know?” you say, trying to break a bit of tension, “Fucking hot.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, and you wonder if that’s why he’s started add pleases and thank yous to his insults. He takes your hand in his and leads you slowly over to a sofa in the entrance hall, “You good?”

“Am now,” you answer honestly as you flop into a seat, watching Roy crouch down in front of you, hands on your knees through your dress, “I don’t know why it’s difficult tonight. Hannah’s a delight, normally.”

“Hannah’s a fucking nosy delight,” Roy barks out, “Your feet hurt, you’ve been rushing around all week, all those interviews. Talking to people. You’re exhausted. It’s fucking allowed.”

“I like talking to people,” you say, voice small.

“No, you’re good at it. There’s a difference. If you describe your perfect night to me, does it involve any of these people prying into your fucking business? Does it involve people at all?”

He’s very good at suddenly coming out with something that allows for a slight shift in your worldview. And he’s right. You know how to talk to people, you’re good at it, making connections and finding common ground. But your happiest is at home. Maybe a Richmond match, if they win. A day at the zoo, even.

“You’re so secretly insightful, god,” you groan, plastering a hand to your forehead as you sink further into your seat, “You’re right. Shit. I’ve just been doing so much of it.”

“Yeah. Just need a break. I’ve been telling you that shit.”

He has. Incessantly. You’d almost argued with him about it the day before, but you stopped yourself when you remembered he was trying to be kind, even if you were struggling with the constant reminders to take care of yourself. You’d promised, after the premiere, you’d recharge. If you’d listened to him, you would have recharged before, and maybe you could’ve handled a longer conversation with Hannah that the film’s promoters would have liked.

“Can we just agree from now on that you’re always right? It’s like living with a wizard. You’re my Gandalf.”

He chuckles, rubbing his hands up your thighs and back down again, strong, soothing motions. You’re not sure he even knows he’s doing it, providing steady comfort without even thinking about it.

“Fuck no. I’m wrong all the fucking time,” he says, “Let’s agree that we’re both always wrong.”

You giggle, shaking your head as you take his hands in yours, stopping his movements. You lean forward to press your forehead against your clasped hands.

“Love you. Thank you for tonight,” you say into his hands, feeling him kiss the crown of your head, then look up at him to add, “And for every other night. You know my perfect evening does involve one person, right?”

He looks suitably pleased. Sometimes he gets this look on his face that’s almost a smile, eyebrows lifted and sparkling eyes, lips slightly parted. It always makes you want to kiss him, so you do, keeping both your hands over both of his until one of his ends up holding your face closer to him. He breaks away first, keeps it light and sweet, like he knows exactly what you need at all times.

“I know you’re about to make a joke about-”

“Jamie, yeah, I was going to say Jamie,” you admit, flicking your gaze between both his eyes, “But I meant you, idiot. Always mean you, even if I don’t say it.”

“Fucking sap,” he mutters, leaning in to steal another kiss, even slower than the last. Even deeper. You want to pull him on top of you and lean back into this couch and spend the evening like this but there’s definitely other people walking around here. It’s like you’d forgotten.

“Love you too,” he breathes when he pulls away, “And I’m fucking proud of you. For this film, for tonight, for all of it. But if you don’t let me and Phoebe fucking pamper you tomorrow, we’re going to have a fucking problem.”

You gasp, eyes wide.

“She wants to do a spa day?”

“As soon as I told her how stressed you’d been, of course she did. Says her mum got her a new face mask she thinks you’ll like,” he shakes his head, then stops you as you’re about to say something, “And before you ask - no, she doesn’t want to be fucking pampered herself. Keeps going on about ‘providing a service’ the weird little shit.”

You feel a teary laugh bubbling up in your throat. Phoebe made you feel so loved. Roy made you feel so loved. You hoped you could ‘provide the same service’ for them.

“I will be the most relaxed woman on the planet tomorrow,” you promise, running a hand down the side of his face, thumb lingering on the scruff, “Can feel myself floating towards that title right now.”

‘Good. One more thing,” he leans away from you, head ducking down and a terrified part of thinks he’s about to stick his head underneath your dress, but instead you feel the clasps of your shoes coming undone around your ankles. You peer your head to watch him gently free you of your heels, one by one, thumb pressing into the soles of your feet and rubbing all the way down once. You shivered.

“Now let’s go and watch a fucking good film, yeah?”

God, you don’t know how you’re going to keep your hands off this man when you’re about to be sat in a dark room for the next two hours. Your dress pools on the floor when you stand up now that you don’t have your heels, but Roy quickly picks up the fabric so you don’t walk on it. You turn your head to sneak another quick kiss as the two of you begin walking towards the theatre, your heels dangling from Roy’s other hand.

“If you don’t end up marrying me, Roy Kent, I’m going to be really fucking angry with you.”

You watch the grin light up his face as he holds the door open for you to go and find your seats.

“Noted.”

[moonsaver]

I READ YOUR POST (and also anon!) ABOUT REBELLIOUS! VERITAS/RATIO, GOOD LORD..

Your writing is very good! And I like it! I'm having it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, everytime

BUT LIKE, LISTEN TO ME, WHAT IF S/O WAS REBELLIOUS LIKE HIM TOO. But not like actually him, just typical rebellious student back then. Like, breaking the rules, pissing off the teachers, etc

AND, HIS S/O IS LIKE NOW, NORMAL. A PROFESIONAL, and probably embarrassed of their phase back then. I do see them being Friendly and chilled with Ratio?? Or like "Oh crap, it's the old rebellious dude that tries to teach me random smart stuffs"

But in my opinion, I do see S/O just being like "Oh, what's up Ratio" and just being neutral. Greeting him whenever they passed by or see each other again, while also slightly joking about the things Ratio tried to teach them back then. As they told him that they actually listened to his teaching.. Even though it's.. Well, it's used by unsuccessful methods

BUT ALSO, YOU KNOW HOW XINYAN WOULD TELL EMBARRASSING STORIES ABOUT SHEHNE AND GANYU?

S/O WOULD DO THAT, telling Ratio old rebellious phase embarrassing stories to his students whenever they feel afraid of him. Like

"Oh, did you know that your professor (Veritas Ratio), used to talk so much about our teacher that just give the slightest wrong formula, to the point he keeps getting send to the office? Hah! I was there!"

As Ratio stood there with hidden embarrassed look, as he tries to hold the urge to not shut S/O up.

I'M SORRY IF I'M BOTHERING YOU, THE VOICES ARE COMMANDING ME... THE VOICES OF MY SIMPING FOR RATIO.

QNON ANON QNON!!!!YOU ARE FEEDING ME TOO I PROMISE YOU CAN BOTHER ME (its not even bothering me i love these asks),,, THE TENSION THAT IUST DISSIPATWS HAHAHA WAIT WAIT

Under the cut,might be long!

Soso, you're the rebellious kid who's butting heads with the other jerkwad, the only difference between you two is that he's just a nerd on top of being a rebellious kid. He's the "worst" of both worlds.

It's a very cliche enemies to strangers to acquaintances who respect each other to tension between possible lovers. Its kind of funny.

In your student days, I imagine the moment both of you see each other in the hall, you scowl at each other. Or make fun of something the other has. Maybe he's lugging a bulky art project and you make fun of him saying he looks like a turtle dragging his own shell. Maybe you left your bag's zip open and Veritas comments on how "devoid of knowledge" it is, "like your head" (you forgot all your books somewhere, your bag is completely empty). God forbid either of you tried something experimental and the other catches a glimpse of it. If they're not within talking distance, they'll shout on the top of their lungs. To both of you, the louder it is the more humiliation is involved. You'll find this method is often used by Veritas, as he openly quizzes you and chides LOUDLY that you're a BUFFOON and an IDIOT for not knowing a SIMPLE FORMULA. You decide to retaliate by stealing more than half his stationary, so now he has to scramble to gather extras and literally no one helps him cause he's a jerk lol.

Everyone on campus absolutely either hates it or loves it. Theres fanpages of you two with cringe edits,or those really well-made shitpost ones. Sometimes your classmates just bait the other to go a certain place just so you two cross paths and stir up a lot of trouble. The teachers are all done with both of you.

Cut to the future (or present?), reader's a professor too now. Let's assume either of them is unaware when they join the job (as implied by the request).

I imagine professor reader, if they manage to stay calm and just.. talk normally, it does give Dr. Ratio some whiplash. His pride demands he straightens himself out though, so it's not too soon before he himself drones on about some or the other tedious topic. You mention the past and how often you used to butt heads, and Veritas' first instinct is to immediately retaliate the way his past self would have done; but he stops himself in time, and sighs at it. You've painstakingly ingrained that response into him. But he's still slightly embarrassed nonetheless. It's not too soon before the conversation becomes more relaxed (I mean.. considering Veritas,as relaxed as he lets it be), and as a form of "nostalgia" he brings up all the questions he used to ask you back then, only to be pleasantly surprised when you give him detailed but professional answers. It's not too soon before he learns that you've become a professor aswell. Dr. Ratio congratulates you – with reservations of course, which is completely thrown out the window when you tell him you knew all of this because.. you listened to him.

Ugh. Don't make him feel so sappy. A part of him detests it; warming up and being all chummy with a hopeless classmate of all people. But a part of him is.. kind of happy about it.

Which is promptly changed the moment you also realize he's a professor now.

And that his students aren't spared from the nostalgia either.

He's bursting through the door, jaw dropped, angry and shocked face as you prattle on about how much of an asshole he was back in the day to his students. For a moment, he contemplates whether he should just throw chalk at you and make an example of you to his students, or drag you out. After a few seconds of paralyzed contemplation, he immediately grabs you by the back of your collar and drags you out before something else comes out of your mouth.

It's almost the same all over again – both of you bickering back and forth as he's all pissy about you spilling everything to his students! You've positively tarnished his reputation! Perhaps he shall tell your students how you used to walk around wearing a lanyard and a shirt with the institution name written on it in big, bold letters on the first day? Or that time you tripped and faceplanted right into the trashcan while you complained about his (axe bodyspray) deodorant?

Ugh.. he'll just deal with you later. Although he won't admit this even to himself.. it's nice seeing you again. He didn't think of that, it must be the headache you gave him that's making him think all weird.

--

[feyunir]

One thing I love about Dragon Age is how much you can learn about your companions by paying attention to their facial expressions and body language.

So I have taken a closer look at Emmrich. Most of my impressions of him will be from before the 16th September, as I have largely been avoiding spoilers since then.

As far as I can tell he has 3 character models. High, medium and low polygon count. Not important, but I think they look slightly different so I thought it was interesting as it might affect his expressions.

Let's take a look at his "Victory pose" as I'm calling it. Usually shown when he is out in the field. He looks confident, and gives the impression he enjoys being out and about. Fighting with confidence. I think he loves magic.

Next, in conversation with all the companions. He seems happy. Give the impression he is having fun figuring out their current dilemma. His scholar is showing. Let's call this his "scholar pose" lol. Even when wearing his resting b***h face he is clearly paying attention, looking at whoever is talking. His posture is open and friendly, exposing his chest and not crossing his legs.

Alone with Rook however we see a different side of him. He has long periods of time when he isn't looking at Rook at all. Coming of as a little reserved. He has his arms resting crossed in the front. Politely present, but respectfully distant. I call this his "Funeral priest pose". I have been to way too many funerals lately and that's generally how the priest was standing. Maybe they always stand like that, but I don't go to church so I wouldn't know.

Judging by how empty the shelves in the back of the clip is, he hasn't been at the Lighthouse long.

Another thing that I noticed was when Rook says "A Watcher's work is never done", he looks sad? At first I thought he is sad because of the never ending stream of death, but then it occurred to me maybe it could be taken more literal. As in, once a Watcher, always a Watcher? Once a Watcher dies, their body/skeleton is being put back to work? We know from The Flame Eternal that Emmrich thinks it would be romantic to be buried with the one you love. Maybe he is sad because he knows that even if he found that someone, being buried with them is something he can't have as long as he is a Watcher. Just a thought.

Next is his "Nope pose". I'm not sure what to make of this one lol. The game clearly has NPC - player head tracking. Emmrich is turning his head and looking at the approaching Rook. Only to do an extreme NOPE turn when they come within talking distance. I'm willing to blame game mechanic on this one, but even then he is a bit strange. He is just standing there to the left of the fireplace, clearly not warming himself. Just standing there looking up at the roof. If anyone have any thoughts on this one I'd like to hear them xD

From his V&V episode we know he is very kind and polite. Probably to the point he became a bit naive and easy to take advantage of. A friend of mine said he came across as potentially having mild Autism. Interesting thought, and I can see where they're coming from, but I don't like slapping labels on ppl so I'm going to leave it in the theory box. All in all he seems confident in his choice of work field, fighting/magic/scholarly, but a bit distant or reserved when in one on one situations.

[gabessquishytum]

Feeling very annoyed about my joint pain right now so what better way to deal with it than projecting my problems onto Dream?

So Dream is hypermobile, and he's been dating Hob for a little while. With Hob, he doesn't feel like he complains too much, he doesn't feel like he's a burden. He doesn't feel like he has to hide the pain and frustration he has to deal with because of his body. As a child he was often told that he was faking injury to get out of doing things he didn't want to do. Often he was told just to exercise more. As he got older, he was told that he was giving up on himself and that he should just push though the pain (despite the fact that when you're hypermobile, sometimes pushing though the pain now means needing joint replacements in the future). But with Hob, his problems are always taken seriously, his pain is believed and he's never infantilized for it. Hob isn't disgusted by his body doing weird things, his reaction to Dream hyperextending something on purpose isn't "put that away that's gross" it's "you'll regret that tomorrow"

Dream has definitely subluxed his jaw while giving Hob blow jobs before. After, because you know Dream wouldn't stop sex for something as trivial as a subluxation, Hob heats up a rice bag and massages Dream's face.

On his bad days, sometimes Hob will stay home from work just to comfort and be there for him. It's care like he's known from no other person ever in his life and he almost certainly cries about how lucky he is (usually in Hob's arms) at least once a week

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But I'm just spinning the concept of hypermobile!Dream getting comfort and acceptance from Hob in my head. Just Dream getting the comfort I wish I had in my life.

Oh anon, joint pain is so horrible. I'm sorry you're going through it. I'm also in the hypermobile club, so I feel you. I really do.

Dream finds it hard to accept that this will be his life forever, you know? There's no cure for his condition, only management. He spent a lot of time pretending that there was nothing wrong, and ended up hurting himself. He has so many regrets... but knowing that he also gets to spend the rest of his life with Hob makes it almost bearable. Hob has slowly adjusted their shared home to be hypermobile-friendly, putting in all the accommodations that Dream has denied himself over the years: a bath chair, perching stools in the kitchen, banisters on the staircases, even a wedge for their bed so Dream can prop himself up when he's feeling bad enough to be bedbound.

Hob knows Dream’s body better than his own. When Dream hyperextends his knees, Hob is the one to notice and give him a gentle nudge. When he's standing and hanging off his joints and straining them, Hob grabs him a chair so he can sit down instead. When he needs his ring splints, it's usually Hob who fetches and puts them on for him. Dream often feels like a burden, but Hob tries to explain that all of these things aren't chores for him. They're just intuitive, easy acts of love. Hob WANTS to be Dream’s support.

Sex is a lot easier with Hob than it ever was with past partners. There's k-tape and splints and joint braces, which Hob treats with the same reverence he'd usually save for lingerie. Dream, naked, clad only in wrist splints and k-tape, is the most beautiful thing in the world to Hob. Cause he knows that Dream isn't going to get hurt while they make wild and glorious love.

They've definitely had wheelchair sex. Hob has knelt between Dream’s slightly spread legs and sucked his cock. Fortunately the brakes were on, or Dream might have gone rolling across the room from the force of his orgasm. Hob is very good with his mouth.

All in all: life is really really hard, but it's also good. And Hob makes it all worth it by being there and being himself. Dream couldn't love him any more if he tried.

[ox-imagines]

Nights Like This

Tohma x f reader - coworkers to lovers

wc: 5k

This work contains smut!! I'll put the cutoff before the smut for anyone who wants to read up to that point! !!MINORS DNI!!

This was requested by @mastering-procrastinating as an expansion of my Romance Tropes headcannons. I hope you enjoy!

(ps. the little breaks in it signal that it's a different night they're working)

“I suppose the cup in the microwave is yours?” You heard a voice over your shoulder.

Tohma Ishibashi. You were promoted several months ago and had worked with him since, though never directly. You’d had no reason to deal with him, thus you hadn’t.

“Yeah, it’s mine; sorry,” you stood and brushed past him to get your cup. “I just thought I’d get some coffee, you know, since we might be here a while.” You’d reheated the coffee still in the pot from the workday to get some caffeine in your system in preparation for what you’d expected would be a long night. From what you knew, Tohma tended to be a hard worker, and you weren’t sure what it would be like to work on a project with him.

“Good thinking. You could’ve just made a new pot, though.” Tohma’s disposition was… hard to decipher. He was courteous, and seemed friendly enough though you’d never gotten the impression he cared on a personal level. You could respect a ‘business is business’ mindset, though, so you didn’t question it or push further. He set his dinner in the microwave and leaned back against the counter as he waited for it to heat up. Focused, steely blue eyes, settled behind a monocle of all things, surveyed you as he reached for his laptop, balancing it on one large hand while he opened it and tapped on his keyboard with his other. “We already have the creative team’s content and market research prepared. We need to make infographics from it, get the presentation in order, and rehearse. I intend to be completely done with this come Friday morning.”

“Sir, yes sir,” you murmured, slightly mocking his commanding, driven tone while simultaneously mourning the loss of your next three evenings. He did little more than raise an eyebrow at you and didn’t even look up from his screen, though you could’ve sworn his lips had quirked up slightly. Setting his laptop back on the table, he retrieved his warmed food and sat down next to you.

He opened the project file and slid out several pages, handing you half of them. “Here. Start the infographics for that data.”

You did as he said, though you couldn’t help but feel a little begrudging. After all, you were in equal positions, even if you were newer to yours than he was; what right did he have to tell you what to do?  Then again you would’ve done exactly that had he not told you what to do, so what was the use in being irritated with him? Maybe if you were just calm and cooperative, you’d find him more agreeable.

The two of you fell into a silent rhythm as you worked. You were glad you’d figured out Excel pretty quickly when you started your new position; you thought if you’d had to ask him for help making the data displays you’d have rather just passed away. You glanced over at him. His brow was furrowed subtly, his striking eyes focused intently on his laptop as they reflected its glow. The strong lines of his nose and jaw pulled together a shockingly handsome face now that you were really looking at him up close.

“Do you need something?”

“Oh, sorry.” He’d caught you looking at him. You hurriedly returned to your work, your cheeks heating marginally. From the corner of your eye, you caught him smirking.

°°••....••°°

“Did you bring dinner tonight? I’m ordering mine, if you’d like something,” Tohma’s icy eyes peered at you over his phone, glimmering in the fluorescents of the little break room. The previous night, the two of you had decided to be done once all the infographics were complete. Tonight, you were going to share your files and cross-check each others’ work before compiling and organizing it into a single slideshow, giving you two nights to rehearse your presentation.

“Oh! Um, sure, I brought a snack and drink but I haven’t really eaten much today,” you weren’t sure why you’d decided to give him more information than he needed; maybe the thoughtfulness of his including you had caught you off-guard. Without another word, he handed you his phone to look at the menu of the restaurant he was ordering from and make a selection. “Do you have PayPal, or Venmo, or Cashapp, or..?” You trailed.

“No need, it’s my treat,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter as he watched you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” you quickly finished picking something and handed his phone back. “And thank you. For dinner, I mean. You really don’t have to.”

His hand lightly brushed yours as he took his phone back. “I don’t mind. You’re a good worker, and clearly, management doesn’t reward for that regularly, so I thought it might be nice for us to have a little something to keep us going.”

“I appreciate it,” you thanked him again, once more a bit taken aback by his friendliness tonight. However, he fell quiet, slipping his phone into his pocket and opening his laptop.

“Have you already sent me your work from last night?”

“I did,” you absentmindedly tapped on the table with one hand while the other dug your computer out of your bag. “I emailed it to you before we left last night.”

“Perfect.”

More silence, aside from the light tapping of keys as he typed. The quiet wasn’t awkward, thankfully, instead feeling more like he was fine to work calmly at your side rather than needing to fill the space with small talk. You clicked over to your email tab, finding the files he’d sent. You were happy to find that they were of about the same quality as yours and therefore yours should be to his liking. Before you knew it, he had his folder out again and was finally sitting down, divvying up the papers like he had the night before and handing you the opposite stack this time.

“Once we’ve checked that each others’ data is all accurate, we can compile it into the empty presentation I just shared with you.” No sooner than he’d gotten settled in his seat, he was up again, checking his phone. “The food arrived; I’ll be right back.” You noticed the smoothness with which he moved as he pocketed his phone and exited, and the graceful lines of his figure in his well-tailored suit.

Why are you thinking about that? You shook your head and leaned back in your chair, hooking your feet on the bar under the table so you could prop the chair back on just the two hind legs. Sure, Tohma Ishibashi was objectively an attractive man, but there was no reason for you to be thinking about it just because he was nice enough to buy your dinner. You didn’t even know him on a personal level in any way; for all you knew, he could be part of a gang, or in a relationship, or just be a terrible person outside of work.

Your eyes blew wide as you felt the chair’s back legs slip. You’d gotten distracted and leaned too far back. With a sickening smack, your head hit the counter behind you as you fell backward, courtesy of your feet still hooked under the table preventing you from falling straight down with the chair. “Damn it,” you groaned softly, pressing a hand to the back of your head. Sure enough, you felt the telltale dampness of blood. Keeping your hand there, you scrambled to your feet and stood the chair up. If Tohma came back to you on the floor and hurt, he’d think you were an idiot, or at the very least childish. You checked to make sure there wasn’t blood on the counter before wetting a paper towel at the sink, wringing out the excess and holding it to the back of your head. Maybe if you sat in front of the wall he wouldn’t notice anything wrong or different with your head. You slid your computer and phone over to a different chair and did just that.

“I’m back,” Tohma announced, his ashen hair falling just over his eye as he shouldered the door open. He set the bag of food and his drink on the table and eyed you curiously, noting that you’d moved seats. “Did you not order a drink?”

“No, I have one I brought tonight,” you smiled politely at him and mentally crossed your fingers that he wouldn’t ask any questions about you moving.

“Okay; just making sure the delivery wasn’t missing something,” he smiled back.

Once you both had your food out, you grabbed the energy drink you’d brought, earning you an interested and possibly amused glance from your coworker. “Honestly?” You said as you returned to your seat. “I don’t think caffeine really does much for me. I like this brand of energy drink, though, and I still try it for times like tonight when I’m working late,” you shrugged.

“Interesting. I’m a tea person myself, so that’s usually how I consume my caffeine. I’m not sure it affects me much either, though; I usually don’t bother to check whether or not a blend is decaf.”

You found yourself smiling softly. You could picture him sipping a cup of tea in his monocle, maybe sitting outside at a fancy cafe in a long, expensive coat. Oddly enough, though, you’d noticed he had two piercings in his ear, and that his monocle was chained to one of them. It was a curious accent to his otherwise tidy demeanor, and undoubtedly made you all the more interested in learning more about him.

“Shall we?” He gestured to both the food and the data sheets in front of you.

°°••....••°°

“I said I’d deal with it this weekend,” Tohma gruffly spoke into his phone. “Unlike some people, I am busy. I will talk to you later.” He hung up with a soft huff. If he was a bird, his feathers would most certainly be ruffled. As it were, his brows were pulled together slightly and his lips were pursed in a soft, irritated frown. He set his phone down on the table before fixing you with a customer service-esque smile. “I apologize. Just a friend of mine who thinks I can drop everything to help him at any moment.”

“Oh, no problem. Is there something you need to take care of?”

“No, not at all. He can wait a couple of days like I originally told him to.” As if he was finally present, he noticed the box in the middle of the table.

“I hope you like pizza, I got enough for both of us,” you gave him a reassuring smile as he sat next to you. That was the first time you’d seen him not uphold his careful composure, and even now his composition seemed somewhat strained, his steely eyes a bit more unfocused than usual and something tired about his expression that didn’t seem to belong there.

“Thank you. I’m not especially hungry at the moment but I’m sure I will be before too long. Are you ready to start rehearsing?” He scooted his chair in and leaned on his elbows against the table. Tonight he was sitting a bit closer to you than the previous two nights, close enough that you could make out several notes of his scent. Something herbal and a bit minty, a slight musky scent of some sort of aftershave or cologne, and the faintest hint of smoke. You couldn’t deny that he smelled quite nice, or that his scent suited him well.

You snapped yourself out of the thoughts, once again ridiculing yourself for having them in the first place. “Full transparency, I get a bit nervous when presenting stuff; once we get started I should do fine, and can at the very least bullshit my way through convincingly, but it might be better if you start the presentation.”

“Very well. Do you think if I kick us off with the introduction you’ll be able to follow in smoothly with the first set of statistics?”

“I do.”

“Perfect. Once you do that, we can work together to get through the rest. Tonight we’ll figure out where it feels most natural to alternate and whatnot.” He rubbed his neck as he stared at his computer. “Think of me as a safety net. If you’re doing well, I won’t step on your feet or cut you off, et cetera, but if you start struggling I won’t hesitate to jump in and take over. I have a lot of practice reading situations and making sure they turn out in my party’s favor.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Tohma.” You’d been a bit worried about how he might react to learning that the person he was doing a marketing pitch with was someone who wasn’t exactly the best at presentations, but he’d once again remained calm and good-natured, even despite seeming a bit worn out and on edge tonight.

The two of you fell into a comfortable repertoire, your rehearsal going smoother than expected. He really was a natural at directing the conversation.

“Can we be done now?” You sighed softly after yet another run-through of the slides.

“We can be done once you know your script well enough not to skip important information. If you like we can take a break for a few minutes, but we certainly aren’t done tonight. I’d like to get through it at least three more times, or until you know what you’re talking about.” Noticing your disgruntled attitude, he chuckled softly and leaned back. “The more we practice tonight, the less time we have to spend here after work tomorrow.”

Something in your chest twinged at his words as you realized he was right. Tomorrow would be your last night staying late together working on the project. You hadn’t realized you were actually enjoying his company enough that you’d miss doing overtime with him every night instead of going home. “Fine, let’s just get this over with then,” you sighed.

°°••....••°°

Tohma wasn’t there yet. This was the first time he wasn’t already in the break room waiting for you when you got there. You turned on your laptop and sat, trying to force yourself to think about something else. He wouldn’t ditch, right? Your eyes flicked to the clock. 6:36. Maybe he was just in the bathroom. Pulling up the presentation, you forced a deep breath into your lungs. He’d been happy with where you’d ended your rehearsals last night, maybe he’d decided another night of practice wasn’t necessary and had neglected to tell you he wasn’t coming.

As the time on the clock changed to 6:39, the door swung open. Tohma’s long legs easily brought him across the room to the counter, where he promptly set his bag. His shoulders were held upright as usual, but tonight there was a certain tenseness in them. He was frowning slightly; lines of tension were etched across his pristine face as well. “Is it a bit warm in here?”

You were a little startled by the rapidness of his appearance, and the question in place of a greeting, and all you could do was stare as he unbuttoned and removed his jacket. Without the extra layer, you could tell there was a clear definition to his muscles, more so than you’d expected. He wasn’t some steroid-ridden gym rat by a long shot, but he was certainly also no soft-bodied office worker. “A-are you alright?” You stammered as you looked him over. It was unusual of him to seem so uncollected.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just get through this,” he sat next to you, not bothering to get out his own computer since you already had the presentation up on yours.

Your rehearsal felt a bit more stunted than the night before, despite you being more comfortable with the information now. Eventually, you just stopped to look at Tohma. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because something definitely seems wrong.”

“I’m-” he sighed, leaning back and rubbing a hand over his neck. “My friend I mentioned yesterday is just getting on my nerves a bit more than usual. I know he’s got his issues, and I have a lot of patience, but he seems intent on wearing it out.” He turned to meet your gaze with a soft huff. “I’m sorry, none of this is your problem.”

“No, it’s fine.” You couldn’t manage to look away from him, subconsciously noting the myriad colors in his eyes; a sweet, somewhat-lavender cornflower tone, the light blue of a shadow on fresh snow, tiny flecks of a deeper, almost indigo color. You realized he wasn’t looking away either, nor was he saying anything. The tension around his eyes seemed to ease slightly, and there was the minutest shift in his expression. When his eyes finally broke away from yours, it was only for the briefest second; they flicked down to your lips before returning to your gaze. For a moment, you’d thought you were imagining it, but the blood rushing in your ears and your heart threatening to pound out of your chest made it hard to hear yourself think.

You moved toward him slightly, and he took it as an invitation. His hand pressed against the nape of your neck, pulling you to him, and his lips lowered to yours. They were impossibly soft, and fitted against yours like it was what they were meant for. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the sensation, letting out a soft whimper as he slid his tongue along your lower lip before gently biting it.

He pulled back, subtle disappointment curling in your chest, but then he grabbed the arm of your chair to turn it toward him. “Here,” his voice was quiet but tinged with an unusual roughness, an urgency you’d never heard in his tone. His arm wrapped around your waist and the warmth of his hand against the small of your back seeped through your shirt as he guided you over onto his lap. Without a second thought, you obliged. His thighs were firmer than you’d expected under you as you settled onto him, but you didn’t have much time to ponder before his lips were on you again. He kissed you deeply, insistently, like he was starving. His tongue pressed into your mouth and carefully played with yours while his hand slid up into your hair. Bringing your hands around from the firm planes of his back, you loosened his tie without breaking the kiss.

This is insane, you thought to yourself vaguely through the haze that was clouding your brain, but you weren’t about to complain. Once his tie was undone you wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt, too. As you ran your hand over the warm expanse of newly revealed skin, your hips bucked against his, drawing a groan from him that sounded like honey. There was no doubt in your mind that he was already very hard under you. He leaned back to look at you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your waist. His sky-blue eyes were wide, glowing with a soft vulnerability you weren’t expecting to see there. You reached up and carefully slid his monocle from his face; the way it was connected to his earring hindered you for a moment, but it was worth it once you could admire his stunning face completely unobstructed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, yet showed no sign of stopping. He stood, lifting you and gingerly holding you to his chest, and set you on the table, nuzzling his face into your neck with a gentle nip. One hand on your waist to hold you steady and the other slowly tracing over your body, his tongue flicked out over the little bite marks he was leaving on you. He deftly unbuttoned your shirt; his hands felt cool against your heated skin. 

Deep, aching desire coiled anew in your gut as Tohma’s steely eyes roamed your newly bared skin. “Do you want this?” he asked against your cheek. His breath tickled your skin and you sighed blithely. 

“I want you,” you confirmed, and he kissed you with a fresh passion. His hips eagerly rolled against yours, creating a friction that only deepened the aching in your gut. With a pause, he pulled away, slipping his wallet from his back pocket and unbuckling his belt. The clank of the buckle sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“You know,” he chuckled quietly as he drew something from the wallet. “One of my friends insisted I carry this; I told him I wouldn’t need it, but I suppose I’ve proved him wrong.” His fingers toyed with the condom for a moment as he looked it over, the wrapper crinkling, and then he set it on the table next to you. “I guess we should be thankful I gave in to his advice, hm?”

His fingertips brushed along your sides as he leaned back down to you. His lips found their way back to the sensitive skin of your neck and trailed languid, messy kisses down to your chest whilst his hands unhurriedly slid your waistband down your hips. The brush of the fabric, the short heated breaths against your skin, the soft pressure of him standing between your legs, it all had your head reeling desperately. 

The vulnerability you’d been so sure you’d seen before was gone, his eyes shrouded with thick, hazy lust and an almost wicked half-smile playing across his lips as he divested you of what was left of your clothes. You felt like a mouse trapped by a tomcat, but you would happily let him devour you whole. One of his hands came to rest on your shoulder as he moved back to finally rid himself of his own pants, lightly pressing you down, the tabletop cool against your back. His fingers were long and elegant and easily pushed the garment down out of the way to better reveal the outline of his raging arousal. But, before also moving his underwear, before you even knew what was happening, you felt those slender fingers press against the intense heat between your legs. You gasped at the sudden contact, your head tipping back and your thighs tensing as he rubbed his fingers along your entrance. He was prepping you, you realized.

“T-Tohma,” you groaned as one of his fingers pushed into you, encouraging and spreading the wetness pooling there. At the sound of his name falling from your lips, his eyes blazed with an all-consuming desire, no trace of his earlier tiredness or tension present in his defined form. He pulled his hand back, the air filling the space coolly, and slid down his underwear. You couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head to look, not with the dizzied feeling pulsing in your skull with every shaky breath you drew. You’d feel him soon enough anyway. The soft, ephemeral crinkle of the condom’s wrapper let you know this was truly happening, any moment now.

“Oh, darling, you’re divine,” Tohma’s voice dripped with a corrupting, anticipatory tone, his hungry eyes raking over your form as you lay there ready to take him. His hands came to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly and holding them down against the table, and as he moved toward you you let your legs slide open a bit more and wrapped your ankles around the backs of his legs. You wanted him close, impossibly, unmentionably close. One of his hands left your hip to guide him between your legs and the head of his cock rubbed against your core as he leaned down to kiss your throat. You arched up into the feeling, whimpering and writhing, but he pulled back slightly. “Now, my little minx,” he whispered with an amusement that was adjacent to cruelty, “hold still. Be a good, patient girl for me.”

The commanding edge to his otherwise soft voice made you groan again but you listened, stilling under him as he closed the distance between you again. His hand squeezed your hip almost painfully as he eased his cock into you excruciatingly slowly. Bliss bloomed through your core as he entered you, the discomfort of his girth stretching you even dulling into ecstasy at the way he unhurriedly filled you. “Please,” you gasped, begging him to move.

He grinned, though now his disciplined expression was strained, his control threatening to slip at the wonderful sensation of being surrounded by your warmth. “Good little minx,” he nipped at your throat and slowly slid almost fully out of you, shuddering at the friction. Without further warning, he thrust himself in to the hilt with a near punishing force. Your hand resting on his wrist turned into a clawed grip, wanton cries spilling from your lips as he set a harsh pace. Each thrust was deliberate and sent a new wave of ecstasy through you.

As if that weren’t enough, Tohma had begun making noises that were sinfully sweet; desperate, saccharine whimpers and moans as he drove into you relentlessly. He’d placed his hand on the table next to you for support when he’d started, and now his arm was trembling, his nails digging little crescent marks into your hip where his other hand still rested. A light sheen of sweat formed over his sculpted, porcelain chest as it rose and fell more erratically, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his quivering grew worse. Dragging along your hot skin, his shaking hand uncurled from your hip and moved down to your thigh, his thumb carefully burrowing between your legs. Stars burst in your vision as he found your clit, a ragged groan escaping your throat and your eyes fluttering shut as he rubbed the sensitive spot. He continued, eliciting cries of his name from your lips as his hips started to stutter, his resolve crumbling completely as his movements grew more unstable.

Your walls trembled and constricted around him and you shook uncontrollably, grabbing at his neck and back to try and ground yourself as your climax tore through you. He cried out in pleasure as he found his release too. His forehead came to rest on yours as he weakly and unsteadily thrust into you a few more times for good measure, thoroughly riding out your orgasms. He finally stilled, panting hard, and moved off you to lay next to you. Though he didn’t pull you over against him, trying to cool off, he was still close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek and neck, and he rested an arm around your waist.

You took a moment to admire him like this as the haze in your brain cleared. His gently closed eyes, his swollen lips parted as he caught his breath, his flushed cheeks, his soft, ashen hair messy and sticking to his dampened forehead: you could’ve never imagined him looking this unkempt, but he was like a work of art. Slowly, cautiously, you moved a hand up to his warm cheek. His eyes flew open startledly, but then his expression softened again.

“I,” he paused as if looking for his next words. “Thank you.” Tentative affection stirred in his icy eyes as he looked at you, but then he blinked and cleared his throat and it was gone. “We should clean up,” he carefully got up from the table, striding over to the sink and dampening a paper towel before removing his condom, wiping himself off and wrapping the condom in the towel to hide the evidence before throwing it away. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, watching him as he stepped back over to the sink. He then approached you with another wetted paper towel, meeting your eyes as he leaned down to you as if asking if it was okay for him to clean you. You nodded and he carefully spread your legs again. One of his hands rested on the outside of your thigh while the other meticulously cleansed you.

Once he was finished, he stood again and zipped his pants, retrieving his shirt from his chair. You kept your eyes on him, studying the way his muscles rippled as he slid the garment back on. “Well, are you going to get dressed, or are you just going to stay like that the rest of the night?” Tohma teased, chuckling, and you felt your cheeks heat.

“Right, sorry.” A bit self-aware now, especially after how you’d been blatantly staring at him, you turned away and pulled your clothes on.

Tohma put back on his monocle, and with it his cool composure. Any softness he’d shown you had melted away as if it were never there to begin with. “Will you be able to focus if we continue work tonight? Or should we just run through it again before we present Monday?”

You blinked at him a moment, then cleared your throat. It was a fair question; you didn’t think you could just go back to what you were doing and pretend nothing had just transpired between the two of you. “Oh, um, I think I’ve got it down now, so if you wanna be done for tonight I’m fine with it.”

He nodded and picked up his bag. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night.” Something in your chest twinged as he turned to leave, but he faced you again, lowering his voice. “If you’re lucky, maybe this could become a more… common occurrence,” he smirked softly. Your voice caught in your throat at the implication, your mouth opening wordlessly. The low chuckle he let out at your state only flustered you further.

“I, uh, good night, Tohma. See you in the morning.”

[forasecondtherewedwon]

After the Horse Has Bolted

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: T Word Count: 1899

Summary: Though they escaped execution, Guildford continues to struggle with his transformations and, worse, with dreams of losing Jane. A frank conversation with Susannah might help more than he expects it to.

He loves her like this, watching her move about the camp at twilight. She isn't the only person here with medical knowledge, and she lacks the experience to deal with more severe battle wounds, and some of the Ethians are steadfastly distrustful, but there are enough willing to let Jane close, and enough minor wounds, and, generally, enough patients to go around. Her skills are badly needed.

As Jane tends to people, Guildford feels a bit useless. Though he did try to help, he quickly realized it was all too unfamiliar for him to be of much use. Besides, these people don't extend the same welcome to him as they do Jane. He doesn't have her bedside manner, he supposes. Fuck them for finding him slightly jumpy and suspicious after one of their own (technically, one of his own, but fuck) attempted to murder him with iron manacles. But he thinks this without heat. These people are their allies—almost their only allies—and he's trying to see what Jane sees.

Mostly, he just likes seeing Jane. Jane in the early morning, scavenging in the woods for medicinal plants. Jane winning over strangers by sitting at their side to cut the thread of their stitches with her teeth instead sitting on the throne to sign a document they may never feel the benefit of. Jane alive. Guildford hasn't told her yet that he sees her differently when he closes his eyes. He sees her pristine white dress across the square, the black strip that blinds her. In his dreams, he watches helplessly as she kneels and the axe swings down. That's when he wakes up screaming her name.

Yeah, maybe that's another reason these people feel a little uneasy around him.

Except Susannah. Susannah's been marvellous. They've sort of met before—him below the stairs with the beautiful woman he would next see walking up the aisle of a church, her rushing down those stairs to warn Archer about the guards, then the night of the attempted assassination outside the old Ethian camp—but Susannah makes more of their acquaintance than it really is. She does it so the others will trust him, because they clearly trust her. They listen to her. It isn't long before Guildford learns it was Susannah who mustered the rescue party that saved his and Jane's lives, though he suspects as much even before it's confirmed. He sees their bond. He's grateful for it.

How grateful though, is the thing, when Susannah plonks herself down on the log where Guildford's seated, and follows his eyes, smirking to catch him gazing at Jane.

"D'you ever let your wife ride you?"

He can't look at her as he responds, "Just the once, escaping execution."

"Ah, y'know that's not what I mean."

"No, I don't know that," Guildford says stubbornly.

Susannah hunches forward and catches his eye.

"How come you're blushin' then?"

"Piss off."

"No."

He looks at her, and she's grinning. While Jane was raised a lady and Susannah supported herself in service, Guildford's found them to be cut from a very similar cloth. They're both unflinchingly bold when they want to be. Cautious, at other times, but not timid. Not everyone can tell the difference. He's been learning Jane, and is beginning to know Susannah, and he can tell she's teasing him for a reason. It might be friendly, or a protective test of Jane's husband's mettle, or something else. Whatever it is, Guildford realizes he's probably better off not trying to shut her out. They're persistent, these two women.

"Want to know why I'm asking?" Susannah prompts.

"I'm guessing you'll tell me."

"Very good!" She shifts closer and lowers her voice. "It's 'cause I've heard you screamin' your feckin' head off the last three nights."

"And you thought Jane was responsible?"

"Yeah, I hoped she was ridin' you like there's no tomorrow. Two reasons for that. You want 'em?"

"Terrific," Guildford says flatly.

"One," Susannah says, holding up a finger to show the count, "because back when Jane and I lived under the same roof, I was beginning to have serious concerns that she was never gonna let herself enjoy herself. It was a virgin you took to your marriage bed, Guildford, no question."

"You are nosy, aren't you?" He scowls at her, but Susannah stares back, unfazed.

"It's the same for her with me. If your hair wasn't curled already, she'd have stories to tell you that'd do the job."

"Please just get to your second reason."

Susannah sighs.

"If it's not Jane, somethin's troublin' you, and it can't go unaddressed. We can't have that. You'll either attract trouble to our camp or somebody already livin' in it'll stab you themselves to keep you quiet. Probably your wife."

Guildford sags. He knows she's right—the last thing he wants to be is a liability. He doesn't want to get anyone else hurt or killed. Especially Jane. Jane, who was sentenced to death for marrying him. Jane, who stood in the fire with him, the bond between them even stronger than the rope that wouldn't split. She would die for him. Without question, without thought, without hesitation. But he wouldn't survive getting her killed.

Susannah has fallen silent, apparently waiting for him to suggest a solution. Guildford doesn't know if this is an Ethian thing or just a Susannah thing: allowing that the person with the problem probably knows themselves best. He thinks it's likely that she's wrong in his case, believing himself the picture of stunted self-knowledge and repressed memories. He takes a deep breath. He can't be that man anymore. It doesn't do anyone any good, himself included.

"I keep dreaming she was executed. You and the Ethians don't come, and I can't get free of the ropes, and I see her beheaded." His own throat feels painfully thick as he forces the words out.

"I can see why that'd be botherin' you."

"It nearly happened," Guildford agrees.

"That's not why. I don't think it's about Jane."

"Of course it is!"

But Susannah's shaking her head.

"It's not her who's powerless, it's you. In the dream, you're tethered. Outside the dream, what is it you feel you can't control?"

Slowly, Guildford understands what she's getting at. He answers, "My transformation. My Ethianism." He narrows his eyes at Susannah. "You're very insightful."

"I'm not, actually. You just have a very straightforward problem: mental impotence. See it all the time in men. Tragic affliction."

He catches sight of her smirk and wants to shove her off the log.

"Have the two of you been able to fuck since the near-execution, by the way?" Susannah asks.

"Thank you for the advice, doctor," Guildford says sarcastically, head cocked to one side, "but that is really none of your concern. Try meddling in your own relationship."

"What relationship would that be?"

He frowns.

"Are you and Archer not...?"

"Archer?!" Susannah catches herself and continues more softly. "In his dreams. Not to be insensitive," she adds, making Guildford roll his eyes. "But no, definitely not. Trust me, if he'd been lucky enough to have me in his bed, he wouldn't have been lookin' at..."

It's far too obvious that Susannah has just caught herself again, but Guildford's glad she did. His trust in his wife is absolute. That doesn't mean he would appreciate Archer attempting to come between them. He rises, deciding to forget Archer and focus on Jane.

"Try the sex thing," Susannah says on their parting. "It might help, is all!"

"Try the minding your own business thing!"

Guildford actually does plan on trying something thanks to this conversation, but it's not sex. (Yet. Later? Gods, yes.)

He doesn't try to sleep that night, not yet. He lies on his back in the dark, listening to the low murmur of conversation from the lookouts tending the campfire, to the sound of his own even breathing. He stares up at the trees, their shapes black against the blue-black night. Sometimes, he stares past them at the stars.

Before dawn, Guildford gently rouses Jane from where she sleeps beside him. Between treating the injured and being startled awake by his screams, she hasn't been getting as much rest as she needs, but he hopes she'll understand. Taking her hand, he leads her to a clearing a short distance from the camp. Someplace they'll be able to see the sky change colour ahead of sunrise. They walk with soft steps. The yawn Jane can't stifle has the round, open notes of birdsong. Soon, real birds begin to sing. He wonders whether any Ethians are among them.

Gradually, everything brightens.

"Stand here," Guildford says, taking Jane's hands in his plea, then dropping them and backing off to a safe distance.

She doesn't argue. He's told her about his mother.

Before the light of day can rush across the horizon, Guildford closes his eyes and concentrates. There's no risk of imminent death to compel him now. He has to know if he can do it anyway. Instead of resisting thoughts of the past, he permits himself to recall how it feels to change, concentrating until the sensation is alive in him. Instead of disconnecting from the present, he inhales the earthy scent of the forest, shifts his boots on the ground, knows without looking that Jane is standing where he left her, waiting for him, trusting him.

He changes just before daybreak.

In this form, his hearing is keener, keen enough to pick up Jane's quiet gasp from across the clearing. His own steady breathing expands his strong lungs, drawing in details of his environment that are beyond his human senses. What he likes best is Jane's smile as she approaches him, the soothing strokes of her hands on his face. He stands there on four legs, enjoying her gentle touch and the heat of the sun on his flank, then, closing his eyes to the world once more, Guildford changes back.

He's stumbling forward into Jane's arms before he realizes he never moved away from her before trying to transform. Obviously, his human form is smaller and therefore less of a hazard, but Guildford isn't convinced that was the ruling instinct. It felt more like... he just knew he could do it. He was sure of himself, in that body and in this one, and in whatever he is during the fleeting moment in between.

"Guildford! How did you do that?" she demands, full of awe and urgent curiosity. "I haven't seen you control it since the night we escaped the Tower!"

Yes, that's true. After bearing her away from that place, he turned back into a man. That's how he was when the Ethians found them, and how he remained through the night. At dawn, he despaired, once again becoming a horse against his will. It persisted. Day, horse. Night, man. The terrible dreams. This morning has been Guildford's first time taking the reins, so to speak. It's a colossal relief, and he looks lovingly into Jane's eyes, knowing she understands that much, even if she can't yet explain the rest.

It seems to him that the best words to say are, "I've always wanted to kiss you at daybreak."

"That's a lot of effort for a kiss," Jane observes.

"Then you'd better make it worth it," he retorts with a grin.

And he holds her, and she does.

[dianneking]

On The Seashore (Brienne x Reader)

Hi all! For my weekly fic challenge, @scream-queenlover suggested this prompt (#2584) @promptsforthestrugglingauthor :

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay home?" "I'm sorry…did you just fucking propose?”

You and Brienne have been adventuring together for years, and while you enjoy the friendship and camaraderie that the two of you share, you can't help but wish for more, maybe…but is it in the cards?

Tags: Brienne x Reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Brienne is an adventurer, Aroace spectrum, Brienne is on the aroace spectrum,  Friendly Banter, Dialogue-Heavy, Queerplatonic Vibes, Second Person POV, Reader is a woman.

I am not sure how it turned into a queerplatonic fic with a Brienne on the aro/ace spectrum but hey, happy belated aro/ace week. Link to AO3 in the title below:

On The Seashore

“I swear, if I have to shake sand from my boots one more time, I'll snap.” You grumbled, pulling once again your weathered traveling boots on your feet. 

“Might I remind you that getting this close to the coastline was your idea, milady?” 

“Brienne, it's been three years we're on the road together, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me by my name?” 

You could see her lips slightly tilting upwards and you knew her dry wit was about to come out to play once more.

“One more time, milady.”

You snorted. “One more time, my ass. I haven't been a lady since we took to the road. Just a common adventurer, that's all.”

“There's absolutely nothing common about you, milady, and if anyone dares to even imply anything of the sort, I'd be ready to duel them.” 

“Yeah we've learned that in Sandstone with that one guy who was a little bit too friendly…”

“He grabbed your arm!” 

“I know but we were trying to keep a low profile and you beating him up didn't really…”

“He insulted your honor! And mine too!”

You sighed. “Yes I know. Let's try not to beat anyone up in this village though. I'd like to lay low for a while.” 

“Well we still have half a day of walking in front of us before we get there, that is, if Your Grace doesn't keep stopping every ten minutes to shake sand off your precious feet.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting the whole beach in my boots.” 

The two of you kept going towards the village, bickering as you had become accustomed to over the time spent together. 

“This must be heaven!” You kicked your feet up, forgetting your previous adversity for the sand, your boots next to your wicker seat in the cool shade of the palm trees. 

“You have pretty low standards for the afterlife, milady, if all you require is a seat in the shade.” 

“Brienne! Was your mission successful?” 

You looked up at her silhouette, the sun behind her transforming her short hair in a golden halo. She looked even more like a goddess than usual.

“I have drinks and I have work opportunities so yes, I'd say my mission was indeed successful. And no duels yet, so you can rest easily.”

She handed you a tankard, keeping the second one in her hand. 

You lost no time chugging down the first half in a long sip.

“Ahhhhhh now that's something that was sorely missing in my heaven. A drink! I could kiss you right now, Brienne!”

She did not reply, taking a sip of her own tankard, but as she sat down in the wicker chair next to your own, you noticed her ears were slightly pinker. How had she managed to get sunburned in such a short time? Oh well, she was very fair-skinned so it probably took very little. That might be why she always had her hood or her helmet on most days. But the Dornian heat and the quiet reputation of this village had convinced even the uptight Brienne of Tarth to lighten her kit. 

“So you were talking about work?” 

She swallowed her drink and replied, her voice uncharacteristically flustered:

“Yes. Hmm, well, they're looking for night guards for their granary. They've had quite the bountiful harvest and they want to keep it safe until the village fair.”

“Are there actual threats to the granary?” 

“Not really. Seems to be mostly a precaution.”

“So a cushy gig. How's the pay?” 

“Not great, but they'd let us stay here at this cottage on the beach for free and add one golden coin each per week.”

“Sunshine, the seaside, free lodging and decent pay? Sign me up for life!”

“What about your beloved adventures? What about being a free spirit and roaming the world?”

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay here?"

The silence that followed alerted you that something was wrong. You turned to your companion.

“Brienne?”

She was looking at you as if you had sprouted a second head. 

"I'm sorry...did you just fucking propose?”

Woah. Brienne of Tarth, swearing? That was almost unheard of from your very proper companion, and only in very serious situations. 

Not that you’d mind. Marrying her, that is. Quite the contrary. The past three years had easily been the happiest of your life, and you knew it had to do with her. Her constant presence by your side, her dry humor, her unwavering support and loyalty…she had become a column you hadn’t even realized how much you were leaning against until you took a step back and allowed yourself to admire her. And she was beautiful. Gods, was she beautiful. 

You set your tankard down beside your chair, and turned to her, lifting your chin, fixing your eyes in hers with equal parts trepidation and boldness. 

“What if I did?” 

“This is not a subject for jesting, milady!”

“Who said I was jesting? And for all the Gods, stop calling me milady like I am some sort of court princess.”

“But you cannot...We wouldn’t…We’re two women!” 

“Believe me, I noticed.” You smirked up at her, letting your eyes roam her tall figure, allowing her to see the appreciation in your eyes. She spluttered, her face turning a bright red that had no correlation with her previous sun exposure. (Had her reddened ears from before also been…oh. Well. Who’d have known. You might even have a chance then.)

“Milady! I…That’s not appropriate! The law doesn’t-”

“Brienne. For once, this is not about the law, religion, traditions, nor customs.” You stood up, and placed your hands on the armrests of her seat, boxing her in. Tall as she was, her head was level with yours. You had never been so close to her. You could see beads of perspiration crowning her forehead, you could drown in the blueness of her eyes, wide open in shock, both at your boldness and at your closeness.

She hadn’t pushed you away though. That had to count for something.

“Brienne?”

“Y-yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hesitant and softer than you’d ever heard before. This was not Brienne the warrior speaking. She was Brienne the woman. 

The woman you’d fallen for. 

“I am going to tell you something. You just say the word, and we won’t have to talk about this again. We’ll go back to our adventuring as it was before and nothing will have changed. But I don’t want you to think this is some sort of joke. I am serious.”

She nodded, and you could see her lower lip quivering slightly, and her eyes widening even more. 

“There’s nobody else in the whole world I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else I would gladly take an arrow for, nobody else I want to guard my back as I guard theirs. If there’s anything that the past three years have taught me is that my days of lonely wandering are done, as long as I can have you by my side. Would…would you consider becoming more than just traveling companions?”

She bit her lip, and let her gaze drop to her knees, as if unable to look you in the eyes anymore.

Oh. 

The silence stretched for what felt like ages. The usually pleasant sounds of waves crashing against the seashore and seagulls crying out to each other felt like a dissonant song to your ears, when all you wanted to hear was her voice.

But you guessed her silence was telling you all there was to know. 

“Very well.” You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you straightened up, hands detaching from the wicker armrests, setting your companion free once again. “I’ll just… go check the water’s temperature. Be back in a bit.” 

You almost scoffed at yourself. Sure. Check the water temperature. Like you gave a damn about the ocean right now. It could all dry up for all you cared. 

You resisted the urge to kick at the sand in anger and frustration though. Mainly because you knew Brienne could be watching you, and you wanted to keep what little decorum you could. How could you be so stupid? To think that she might return your feelings, that you might have a chance with her. Ha. Clearly the blazing sun of Dorne had burnt off your common sense. 

You let the cool seawater lap at your bare feet, forcing yourself to look at the horizon and take a deep breath of salty breeze. 

It was okay. You’d gone through heartbreak before. You’d move on. 

Another deep intake of breath.

You would not allow those tears that you felt prickling at your eyelids to fall. You were a grown woman. An adventurer. Not a silly girl with a crush. 

A third breath. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds of seagulls, trying to shove all the feelings back in the little blackened and beaten container you called heart. 

“Nobody has ever told me that.”

“HOLY SH- Brienne, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You twirled towards her, a hand on your chest as you tried to get your breathing back in control. How a woman of her size had managed to sneak behind you without you noticing was a testament both to her athleticism and to how out of it you were.

She pinned you with her gaze, hard and unflinching. The soft, blushing Brienne was gone. This was Brienne the warrior, once again. You realized you had fallen for her, too. 

“Nobody has ever…wanted me.” She said that as if it was part question, part accusation. You didn’t know what to make of it. You shrugged.

“Well, apparently they’re all dumb as rocks and with no functioning eyes.”

She snorted. An inelegant sound that you found as endearing as the rest of her. 

“Seriously, Brienne. You probably have a lot of people that admire you from afar. I’m just the one with the least amount of self-preservation instincts of them all.”

“You seem to have been doing pretty well so far.”

“Well, if you don’t smite me for daring to punch above my weight, I should live to see another day!” You smiled up at her, cheekily, trying to lighten up the mood. You weren’t going to give up on the friendship and camaraderie you two had built together just because your advances had been turned down. A fool, you might be, but not an utter imbecile. 

You could see her lips pull up at the corners in a tiny but unmistakable smile at your antics.

“There it is! The smile of mercy! I shall live somewhat longer! Yay!”

She shook her head and gave you a small shove, almost throwing you completely off-balance. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ll take impossible as a title over milady anytime, so yep, that’s who I am! Also, please don’t throw me into the ocean, I can’t swim.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope! I’m a land rat, not a sea rat. Can you?”

“Of course! Everyone on Tarth learns how to.”

“Well, you’ll have to teach me at some point, but throwing me in is not how I’d like to go about it, thank you very much.”

Her hand landed on your shoulder, gripping it strongly, and you looked up to see that the smile had gone, and her expression was now closed off, and serious. 

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.” She ground out, as if it was physically difficult for her to even say it. 

“To teaching me how to swim?”

“No, to a… relationship. I…I like to spend time with you.” She looked like she was telling the truth but also like she was extremely uncomfortable doing so. You felt your heart break again, this time for her.

“As do I, but we can still have that. This is not an ultimatum, Brienne, I would never put you in that position.” Just the thought she would be willing to start a relationship she clearly wasn’t keen on not to lose your company was…both horrifying and heartwarming, to be honest. 

“It’s not that. I…I am not good with…romance. It doesn’t come as easy to me as it seems to be for other people. I don’t know how to go about it.”

You put your own hand on top of hers, on your shoulder, trying to find the right words.

“Hey. There is no right or wrong way. And there is no hurry. We can give it a try and see where it goes. If not, we’ll just be good friends that adventure together, alright?”

She seemed to ponder this, her eyes on your hand covering her own. You gave her the time to do so. 

“I would like that.”

You smiled tenderly up at her. This was so hard for her, always used to be the paradigm of perfection, of valor, of morals. The fact that she was able to challenge herself enough to go out on a limb with a relationship for you, of all people, made your heart skip a beat in your chest. 

“We will take things as slowly as you’d like, and you feel free to tell me at any time if you’re uncomfortable, okay?”

You could see the tension leave her eyes, and her face opened up in a hopeful smile. 

“You’d do that…for me?”

“But of course! We have all the time in the world, milady!” You smirked, throwing the title back at her and seeing her resigned grimace at the nickname.

“No more miladys, alright?” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years! Now. That drink is getting warm and that’s not something we can allow. Shall we?”

You gallantly offered her your hand to hold in a very bad imitation of a nobleman asking a woman at court to dance.  She shook her head, but accepted your hand, and you both turned your back to the sun, looking at your conjoined shadows on the sand in front of you with a look of incredulous joy on both of your faces. 

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[maxlarens]

ok ok ok this is insane but bear with me !! do you remember the landoscar x driver!reader drabble/ficlet I did for your birthday? of course you do but do you remember me yapping in the gc about that soulmate enemies to lovers with max???

well here's a concept for you: friends to lovers landoscar with enemies to lovers oscar x driver!reader and friends to lovers lando x driver! reader (that was a lot to type out holy shit) maybe with the soulmate element thrown in too because I can never do anything simple

VIV!! enemies to lovers oscar mixed with friends to lovers lando OH WOWOW YES!!! yes i yapped thats why this took so long

i think the obvious thing is to do that in reverse but i really quite like it this way. ugh ok so lando who you've been friends with through karting. and then you get into F1 at around the same time as him. and you end up leaning on each other through your rookie years and become super close. would be fun if she had a short stint in mclaren with him too and people obvs loved their dynamic together🥺 and i think reader very much feels like its her and lando against the world people who say they're untalented if u know what i'm saying there.

and then 2023 hits and a certain someone joins mclaren. and idk maybe slightly AU driver!reader is in a midfield team that year (aston martin? ...unfortunately i think a landoscar specific driver!reader is forming here. why do i do this.) and maybe feels a little threatened by oscar. maybe she was trying to get that seat. and then lando and osc start to get closer and closer and reader feels like she's not landos like only Main Friend anymore. and okay maybe a bit of jealousy thrown in there too but she's not about to admit that.

and she develops a bit of a track rivalry with oscar. doesn't like to give anything up to him. would rather see them crash and burn before she lets him overtake. (carcar?😅) and maybe she's not so overt about it off track, but probably isn't super friendly to him maybe tries to exclude him😭 and oscar is oscar and just brushes it off. and thinks okay if she doesn't like me so what, it doesn't change anything. even though lando is probably whingey about it and tells osc and reader to be nicer to each other. i think that continues for the 2023 season.

maybe 2024 she gets a better seat. merc? ferrari even? which eliminates her jealousy around oscar having a better car than her (which idk was mclaren doing better than aston martin in 2023? lets say they were in this world😭). which makes it easier for her to be around him and not be pissed LMAO. which opens her up to his personality and general cuteness. and he starts to grow on her and she eventually starts inviting him/including him in readerlando shenanigans. which soon turn into readerlandoscar shenanigans🥺 love oscar needling his way in there with no effort of his own, literally just his charm and patience has her swooning eventually.

i imagine lando and reader are more extroverted personalities. they're club rats, they're chaotic, they're messy and oscar balances them both out. someone to come home to, someone to coax out of their shell🥺

and re: soulmate au which i didn't touch on. i love like. a soulmate au where ur soulmate isn't necessarily romantic, like maybe the baseline in society is to assume its platonic? anyway. so she finds out so early on that her and lando are soulmates. when they're kids so it never occurs to either of them that it might be romantic (even though it eventually IS). and then the situation develops as above lol, resenting/disliking oscar and all. and in the THICK OF IT, she must find out that oscar is also her soulmate. and must hate him more because of it. ugh idk all of them being soulmates is so cute and finding out at different stages, or not telling each other, or being confused when they all have two soulmates because while it happens, it's not super common or talked about.

[batsplat]

Vale to my knowledge has made up with all his rivals bar Marc, he’s even made up with Jorge who he said with the help of Marc where in kahoots to keep him from the 2015 title so I’m wondering what about Marc makes it impossible to make up with him also post 2015 what were the changes that 2015 made Marc go through cause the way he presented himself post 2015 was so different. Also despite Marc saying he doesn’t care anymore about 2015 I think that’s a big fat lie. (Also despite vale not liking Marc post 2015 he never put Marc ability down of anything he was like no he actually is good and I was wondering if that stems from just acknowledgment that Marc is an amazing rider and like skill recognises skill)

Sorry this got long

valentino is actually quite straightforward with this: it depends on what bond you had with him at the point in time where the feud gets going. so on the one hand you've got riders like biaggi, casey and jorge, where they don't have any sort of significant bond with valentino to be destroyed... and on the other you've got sete and marc. sete's the other big one where... okay, on paper, valentino's publicly moved past it, but it's also pretty obvious he hasn't actually forgiven sete. and, crucially, he's also the other rival who valentino was friends with before things got ugly between the pair of them. the distinction between the two categories of rivals kinda becomes obvious once you pick up on it

in his autobiography, published in 2005, he puts it like this:

included in this post, where I talk about the preconditions needed for valentino to hold a grudge against a rival. like here:

as I said in that post, I think in general he can engage in rivalries where he doesn't let the animosity get to him - though he knows himself well enough to understand that it can be a good idea to take things personally. he's said as much in relation to sete:

that and the extended quote is discussed in this post, and in general I do come back to the sete rivalry a lot when discussing how things with marc went down (see here if you're interested in reading more about that rivalry). valentino needs rivals to motivate himself, he likes having someone to bounce off of, to define himself against... and that is something he's deliberately integrated into his competitive process. that being said, there's a line... this type of ultra-personal rivalry like the kind he has with sete doesn't really feel like the mode of engagement that's the most comfortable to him. sete is for the most part carefully excluded from the narrative of his autobiography - but it's worth pointing out that the autobiography quote I included above, "if I were betrayed by a friend, then, yes, I could hate him", was published in the immediate aftermath of the drama with sete. we don't know whether that was a conscious reference to sete, but it could be. and at that same time, in 2005, valentino was also distancing himself from his new rival - who just happened to be his childhood friend melandri (more on that here). it's just speculation, but you do wonder whether valentino had been burnt enough by the sete rivalry that he wanted a slightly neater separation between the professional and the private. see:

by the time he gets to dani, casey and jorge, he's a lot more disciplined with this I reckon. he's always had a pretty friendly relationship with dani, of course, one that doesn't seem to have been massively affected by how dani was supposed to be the challenger to the throne (more on their relationship here). still, they weren't friends, and valentino was always aware that dani might end up challenging him for titles. casey's an interesting one because he wasn't supposed to be the challenger... casey thinks that valentino pulled back a little when casey established himself as a competitive threat - but at the end of the day, this is all quite cold-blooded on valentino's part. they're rivals, valentino is establishing some distance, no real emotional investment on valentino's part or friendship that could be ruined. more on that push and pull dynamic here, which includes this bit:

healthy professional distance! as far as valentino is concerned, in any case. I think that's the way I like framing that distinction, yeah, where you've got "intensely personal rivalries where each offence is deeply felt" and... not that. casey is very much in the 'not that' category. they were never friends, casey developed in spades the ability to piss valentino off, but he could never hurt valentino. the same is if anything even more true with jorge, who basically got the cold shoulder treatment from valentino from day one. at least valentino had pretty good repartee with both dani and casey... this seems to have been pretty absent in the jorge dynamic. the interpersonal coldness will definitely have been exacerbated by how jorge got the yamaha seat, making him an immediate direct threat from valentino from inside his house... but it may have existed independently of that too. like, honestly I do just think valentino disliked jorge's vibe lol. here is more on their dynamic in 2008-10, which does ofc include discussion of valentino's approach to that rivalry:

so valentino had less than zero interest in befriending jorge, which does help. this is just good old fashioned honest dislike, zero pretence. as I discuss in that post, they did manage to be mostly civil to each other for the first two years of their partnership, but 'civil' is really as far as they would go. like, this is the kind of thing that was being said the first time that partnership ended

god I miss them so bad

anyhow, by the time you get their second partnership, they've made it back to being mostly civil - until the entire drama kicks off in 2015. it's not all that surprising that valentino has been willing to bury the hatchet with jorge. while valentino did at the time say something along the lines of how jorge's reaction was making him think jorge was really in on the whole thing, for the most part valentino clearly thought of jorge just as a passive beneficiary of the whole marc affair. he was still pissed at jorge in 2016, believing that he'd put a lot more effort into keeping that relationship civil from 2013-15 than jorge had... but once their teammate partnership ended for the second time, he was basically willing to call it bygones

so... if post-sete valentino knows himself well enough to understand that a sort of impersonal, shallow hatred towards his rivals is the best way to motivate himself, then how on earth did things go so badly wrong with marc? why was marc the kind of friend who could betray valentino in the first place? I had a stab at answering that question here, and I think a large part of it is the competitive context of the previous few years. the long and short of it is that valentino had spent several years in competitive wilderness, knew his time fighting for titles had almost certainly come to an end... and was perfectly primed to see marc at least in part as a successor, as someone who had made himself in valentino's image, rather than an enemy. see this bit:

and it's also discussed here:

the way this process of distancing himself from rivals works is... I reckon there's a dual purpose here. on the one hand, you just need to put yourself in the right head space to fight someone, right. you need to motivate yourself, make yourself as determined as is possible to beat the other guy. friendship complicates things, it takes away a little bit of that 'violence' that is needed to maximise performance. valentino is a storyteller, he needs his victories to mean something - and who he's defeating is a key part of the story. there's an element there of wanting to build up the opponent in his head... you can be friendly with your rivals, sure, remain more or less cordial (as he was for the most part with casey and even jorge when they were actually fighting for titles), but that's very different from friendship. conversely, it was of course also part of his toolkit to be friendly with the opposition (x):

remember, for a while there he had a reputation for being an especially friendly racer - and it's an element of his game he never entirely abandoned. he did keep a little bit of that to him, even as he cultivated some distance with his biggest rivals... you could argue there's a little bit of that 'confusion' to early years casey, for instance. ruthless as a racer and charming in-person isn't always the easiest combination to deal with

the other purpose distancing yourself from the opposition serves is as... well, a bit of a self-protective mechanism, doesn't it? defending yourself from any potential future harm. maybe there's a little bit of that with the melandri dynamic in 2005... and then, of course, with marc in 2015. it's preempting the feud, in a way, almost like a method to emotionally protect yourself in case things get ugly. it does seem fairly clear that valentino feels more comfortable in the impersonal mode of rivalry, the stuff he did with biaggi, casey and jorge. he's happy enough to admit that he was responsible for at least some of the nastiness there - which he's recently talked about with biaggi:

which, y'know, that's not a million miles off the stuff he was already saying in his autobiography in 2005:

like there's not all that much of a progression here, not too much reflection needed. he's always known that he plays his part in making these rivalries ugly - he just doesn't really think there's any issue with that. it's part of the game. he's talked more broadly about how he thinks these rivalries are intrinsic to sports, how there's something natural to rivalries being a little bit nasty, how he thinks that sometimes the nastiness makes these rivalries more honest. how it's better to just admit you hate each other. that quote linked to above in which he talks about the sete rivalry also includes this bit:

but crucially, he does make a distinction as to where he thinks sete really went wrong: by playing a dirty game. ultimately, it's the same thing with marc... in the end, he feels like those no longer were 'honest' rivalries, that an important line has been crossed - and it's the previous friendship that makes this betrayal hurt so badly. which makes it unsurprising that some of these rivalries are a lot easier to move on from than others. valentino never cared about biaggi enough to have any real animosity towards him after their rivalry ended. he got over the casey thing by mid 2013 at the latest; with jorge, they were generally fine the moment they stopped being teammates. those are the kinds of rivalries valentino enjoys... ugly, yes, nasty from both sides, featuring two guys who desperately wish to beat each other, who violently hate each other (as valentino puts it)... but ultimately, this is just how the game works. this is sports. what happened with marc was something different altogether

the other elements of the ask... well, of course marc still cares about what happened. in terms of how he changed how he presents himself towards the outside world, I talk a bit about that here - in general, there's unsurprisingly a little more wariness from his side. the knowledge that many people now hate him, an awareness that what he says will gladly be used against him... and yes, valentino has generally been quite disciplined in how he criticises marc. we've already established that this type of rivalry isn't particularly fun for valentino - and he didn't exactly enjoy 2016 either. not just because he had lost the title, but also because that increased level of vitriol and toxicity kinda got to all of them. for the first few races, he's still caught up in his own bitterness and resentment and frustration, but that's just not really how he can approach competition. he needed that slight rapprochement with marc because he needs to be able to enjoy himself. none of this was fun anymore

knowing how intensely people reacted to this rivalry is I think part of the reason why valentino is so wary of needlessly adding fuel to the fire. the casey rivalry provides the easiest contrast as it's... well, look, I discuss all of that here, but it's basically the rivalry where valentino undoubtedly did respect the other guy's raw ability but was also far more willing to take cheap shots at him when the mood struck. like, tonally that rivalry is completely different, because casey and valentino are willing to just pick the lowest hanging fruit imaginable and throw it in each other's faces. but that kinda tells you how it simply was not that serious from valentino's perspective... it's basically just years worth of extremely petty bickering between two blokes who are extremely adept at pissing each other off. no hard feelings once it's all over (from valentino's end, anyway). marc and valentino are the complete opposite. valentino barely criticises marc, doesn't react adversely to any of their on-track confrontations in 2016-17, at most drops an ever so slightly snide remark about the "special treatment" marc has for him - but clarifies he thinks that part is fine, because it's just good honest battle, right. even when marc harasses valentino with his towing addiction as late as 2019, valentino basically goes, 'well he's a dickhead, but you gotta hand it to him' (discussion here):

he also never diminishes marc's skill as a rider, is always willing to acknowledge just how good he is. there's this pair of clips I always come back to (2014/2018):

like, I do think this is kinda notable. he's sticking by what he said in 2014, he's not going to take easy shots at marc just because. again, the casey contrast is pretty funny here, because both of them are pretty sensitive to having their achievements diminished in that manner and both of them are more than happy to do exactly that to each other. it's just a far more straightforwardly spiteful rivalry than what marc and valentino have got going on. valentino is far more careful in not diluting his core complaint with any petty day-to-day complaints. and yes, I am aware that there's an obvious exception to this rule - argentina 2018. I give my take on that whole situation here, but my general stance is that I really don't think valentino was just looking for an excuse to reignite the feud... if he had been sufficiently motivated, he really could have been more bitchy in 2017 than he was. he just lost his head because marc managed to severely piss him off, he worsened a feud he wasn't actually trying to worsen, and while he never walked the comments back... well, it's kinda notable he doesn't exactly repeat them either, isn't it? for him, his grievance is still completely sepang 2015. argentina 2018 doesn't really feature. that incident is the exception that proves the rule, in a way

so yeah, mostly I reckon valentino's continued open respect towards marc's abilities as a rider is a question of convenience, of not wanting to unnecessarily increase tensions. valentino doesn't actually get that much out of keeping this feud going; there is a reason why he's been very happy to call it bygones with most of his rivals once there's no longer any competitive purpose to hating the other guy. the reason why this feud still exists at all is because it hurt him on a personal level - and that's why he still talks about it. that's less strategy and more compulsion. that being said, valentino is hardly being dishonest when he's complimenting marc as a rider; he's not saying things he doesn't really believe. he's always been aware of how good marc is, after all - and to him, that's not why they actually ended up fighting. that valentino has been so disciplined over the years in what he criticises marc about is a function of how deeply felt that rivalry is to him, almost like he wouldn't want to taint it with more lowly complaints. it'd be a healthier rivalry if valentino and marc had just insulted each other for several years straight... instead it'll continue on, unabated. a special rivalry until the bitter end

[hiskillingjar]

Heeey if ur down maybe

Strade x reader...but it's like a hitch hiker situation it's like 3 am and he picks them up off the side of the road yadda yadda their phone is dead maybe some awkward small talk (I can imagine th asking if he wants to play I spy or something)

Anyway I'm getting off track we all know hitch hiking is dangerous we've all heard horror stories of girls hitch hiking and then she's found in a ditch chopped into a billion pieces we all know this so does reader...so they keep asking if he's gonna kill them every five minutes...they're weirdly into it too

Sorry it's so long and just rambling I got off track I just really love strade

haughhhh this prompt haunted me and i just had to fill it. not totally what you asked for but. like. same vibe ya know?

3200+ words, cw for like. the lead up to actual noncon, i love strade most when he's evil and sexy and condescending sorryyyyyy. also crossposted on ao3 because i like having my longer fics there

"Hey, buddy, climb in!"

When the large, black SUV slid to a stop beside the road’s dirt path, you could have cheered. 

You had been walking for what felt like hours after getting off the bus at its last stop, your thumb raised high beside you in hopes of someone pitying you and stopping to pick you up. Had this stranger not stopped, you might have considered calling it quits and sitting in the cold to wait it out until morning rather than exhausting yourself with the walk.

Thank god you didn’t have to worry about that.

"Hey! Thanks for pulling over!" You beamed brightly and politely, as you climbed into the front of the stranger's truck, running a hand through your messy hair and dusting your boots off before you got comfortable in the expensive-looking car. "I really appreciate it, man, I've been standing there for, like, an hour now."

His own smile widened, dimpling handsome smile lines and crinkling his golden eyes. You had no idea what a guy like this was doing travelling on the highway at three in the morning, but you were sure that he would say the same about you, so didn’t think much about your wondering.

"Oh no, that sucks.” He said with a sympathetic click of his tongue. “Here, let me help you with that, you must be exhausted after such a tough night."

The friendly attitude remained as he reached out for your backpack, showing off muscular (albeit slightly scarred) arms and tan skin. You smiled appreciatively, all the same, as he took your backpack and tossed it into the back seat of the truck, before starting the engine back up with a twist of the keys in the ignition.

"Yeah, uh, I accidentally rode the bus to the end of the line and...yeah, the last stop was a little over two miles away?" You said, buckling your seatbelt as he pulled off the dirt path and continued down the road. "It's a total ghost town there, and I have no charge on my phone either. I really thought I'd be walking all night."

His smile shifted into a more sympathetic expression before it went to the road ahead of him.

"Ah, I feel you on the phone thing, it really sucks when your battery decides to die on you when you need it most.” He replied, both hands on the wheel, as he let the speed of the truck climb back up to the naturally higher speed of a highway drive. “No charge, huh? What a shame."

You nodded, unsure of what else to say.

"So, what's in the backpack?” He asked after barely a beat, and you got a sense that he wasn’t one to stay in silence for long. You didn’t mind the opportunity for small talk though, not really, even if it was late at night and…you mostly just wanted to get some rest. “You a tourist, or..."

"Yeah, kind of a tourist." You nodded with a little smile. "Um, I'm trying to get to Toronto, actually. I know that's pretty far, so no pressure to get me there,” You chuckled awkwardly. “But I think there's a bus station nearby, a few towns over? I was just gonna stay there tonight and get another ticket in the morning."

He nodded along as you spoke, an attentive audience member, like he was listening to you in place of late-night talk radio or music.

"Oh, so you've got quite the journey ahead, huh?" He peered towards you out of the corner of his eye when you nodded in response to his question. 

"Mmhmm, it’s still another day or so of travel,” You said with a shrug and a little nod. “So, um, I didn't get your name?"

"Ah, right, yeah, I forgot to tell you."

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to smile at you.

"Name's Strade,” No last name. Makes sense, you probably wouldn’t have told him your last name, either. “And you are...?"

You smiled back and told him your name.

"And, um,” You tittered a little coyly. “You know, I’m just trying to make small talk here, but I'm noticing a bit of an accent there...not Canadian, huh?"

He laughed, a friendly and warm chuckle that put you at ease, despite your less-than-ideal situation.

"Haha, you're good.” He said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Yeah, not Canadian. German, actually. I’ve been living here for, ah…” He sucked a hiss in through his teeth and tilted his head in thought. “A while. Just never managed to shake the accent, I guess."

"No, that's super cool. I’ve always thought Germany was an interesting place" You nodded with a bit more of a smile. "I've never been there, or anywhere in Europe or anything, but I've always wanted to."

"Oh yeah?” He hummed thoughtfully, still smiling. “You should definitely visit, it's great...I mean, yeah..." He peered out his window as he turned onto a new road, though you hadn’t seen where the illuminated sign was leading him. "The people...the cities...you know…” He continued, his words trailing off and his tone sounding distracted as he drove. “Germany's great...beautiful country...definitely worth the visit."

"Mm," You nodded. "Sounds nice."

After another long moment of silence (with you staring out the window, not seeing much other than fields and woods, and him focusing on driving and looking more and more put off by the quiet), he cleared his throat and reached up with one hand to rub his stubbly (and scarred) chin. 

"Listen…not to be intrusive or anything, I'm just trying to make some small talk,” He placed his hand back on the wheel, though he was still smiling. “But what's a pretty girl like you doing all by themselves, anyway? What, not got a boyfriend to travel with you?"

You let out an uncomfortable laugh, a slight flush coming to your cheeks as you tried to think of an appropriate (and smart) response. 

You knew you should have been...put off, to say the least, by a stranger asking why you were alone in the middle of the night, but...well, he had picked you up in the middle of nowhere, and you kind of owed him for that. Maybe he was just a curious guy.

And…he was pretty hot. Maybe he was just asking so he could make a pass at you.

"Hah, nope, all on my lonesome. But, um," You bit your lip, considering your next words very carefully. If you said something about…meeting people, perhaps, maybe it would have been enough to scare off any darker intentions he might have had with you. "I have friends in the city that I'll be staying with who know I’m coming. So, just need to get there, ya know."

He nodded again, smiling as casually as he had been.

"I see.” He said simply. “So, you must be pretty brave then, huh? Not many girls your age would feel safe travelling and staying in a bus station all alone without any protection, especially not these days."

An idle smirk crossed his lips as he kept his eyes forward, tapping the steering wheel with the pale palms of his hands.

"Lots of weirdos on these roads late at night, ya know?” His golden eyes went to yours then, and you could see they had narrowed just a touch, his eyebrows quirking with a silent challenge, or...threat. “Good thing I found you first, hm?"

"Mmhmm..." You nodded politely, letting out another uncomfortable chuckle. 

"Mhm…” He mimicked. “But, maybe we should change topics, ja? Let's talk about something...a bit more interesting~"

"Interesting?" You looked up at him with a curious blink, watching as he turned the truck again and started down a darker road, surrounded by woods. You still didn’t have a reason to be concerned though…at least, that’s what you were telling yourself. "How do you mean?"

"Oh, you know...a little more personal." He suggested with a shrug of his shoulders, like he was trying to appear more casual. "How old are you?"

"Oh, I'm twenty," You replied, raising a brow. "Yeah, second year of college, actually. I'm on spring break."

"Really?" He said, raising his own brows with pseudo-surprise. "Wow, I'm almost double that....way to make me feel like a creepy old man picking up a vulnerable girl on the side of the road, hah."

"Hah," You chuckled awkwardly, a slight flush coming to your face as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You’d read countless horror stories about this situation, and yet, when you were sitting in it, you still couldn’t help but be a little charmed by him and his self-deprecation. "Y-Yeah, sorry...um, I don't think you're creepy, though. I actually really appreciate it. I would have been stuck there all night, if you hadn't picked me up." You smiled. “Thank you.”

"Aw, how sweet," He crooned, taking one hand from the steering wheel and placing it on your bare thigh, making your breath hitch tightly. Denim shorts had been a fine choice when you dressed that morning, but a far stupider one at three in the morning, it seemed. "You really are very gracious, aren't you?"

"Mm..." You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as his hand roamed further up your thigh, calloused skin against smooth, goose-pimpled flesh.

"But, ah, graciousness can only get you so far in this world, right?" He said after a beat of silence, his voice taking on a lower tone as he looked towards you, pulling the truck to the side of the road and…slowing it to a stop.

"Huh?"

You didn't expect (though maybe you should have, considering all the hints he had been dropping) for him to stop the car, and you suddenly felt a lot more scared to be in a strange truck, in a strange country, with a strange man.

"If you're too grateful,” He murmurs, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Some people can take advantage. And why wouldn't they."

Your polite (albeit tight) smile dropped and you swallowed tightly, as you saw him pocket his keys and turn to you, those golden eyes that had once been so inviting narrowed and sinister, as the hand on your thigh crawled further and further up.

"It's late at night, we're all alone, you’re in some…stranger’s truck,” He cut himself off with a chuckle and a shake of his head, like he was chiding you. “And who knows what someone could do to you."

Now that the car was stopped, he was able to lean in a little closer to you, the hand on your thigh ascending to your hip.

“Helpless, right?”

"Ah..." 

You let out a little whimper, swallowing tightly as he pressed himself even closer towards you, sliding a knee under himself so he could push himself forward, over the wide console of the truck. 

You were so stupid. 

Your pocket knife, your only means of protection while you were on the road, was in your backpack, of all places, which was in his back seat…where he had thrown it. Somehow, though, you had a sense that even if you did have a weapon of some kind, some sort of defence against him, it probably wouldn't have done anything to stop him, anyway. 

The predatory glint that had always been in his eyes, looking back on the encounter retroactively, became a whole lot less concealed, as he reached up and idly pushed a thick chunk of your hair behind your ear, almost like he was admiring you innocently. His mouth tilted into a mocking smile and his tone became lower and even more lecherous.

"Twenty,” He said, like he was reminiscing. “Just twenty years old and doing this all by yourself. So young...and so pretty too.” He leaned a little closer, so close you could smell the thick scent of motor oil and sweat lingering on him. “It would be a shame if something happened to a girl like you..."

He let out a small chuckle, keeping his gaze locked on yours as his hand shifted from your hip and down to his side.

Your eyes followed it almost instantly. You didn't know what he was doing, but you knew that it couldn’t be good.

Strade noticed your gaze too, raising his brows and giving you a smile that he had practised so many times before, one that was supposed to settle a nervous spirit, a fretting hostage. He shifted his hand to the side, making it seem as if he was just casually adjusting himself, when, in fact, he was hiding something else, something much darker and more sinister altogether.

"Were you not scared...of a stranger like me, picking you up in the middle of the night?" He tilted his head, considering you closely like you were a new specimen for examination.

“Strade,” You mumbled softly, your eyes flitting to the side to try and spot your backpack. “Come on…let’s not do this.”

"Now, now...don't be so frightened.” He said, with almost the start of a hurt pout to his lips. Why was that enough to make you feel bad? “I don't mean you any harm at all, but you still haven't answered my question..."

He pressed even closer, his fingers suddenly trailing down your neck as his stubbly cheek grazed yours.

“Were you not scared?”

"I...didn't think I needed to be scared," You mumbled quietly, taking in a slow breath and feeling like your skin was prickling with nerves each time he pressed close to you.

"Why's that, hmm...don't you think it's dangerous to be alone at night?"

His staring eyes met yours, spanning up and down your face, like he was trying to take in every detail of you, each freckle, wrinkle and pore, before…

"Don't you think it's dangerous...to be alone...with...me..."

"NGH!" 

You let out a shrill grunt as he quickly pressed his body entirely against yours, climbing over the console of the truck and pinning you down to the seat. You attempted to quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the car door on the passenger side, gripping fingers scrambling for the handle as you heaved with his added weight on top of you.

"Oh no no no…” He chided lightly, sitting back as he straddled your hips and reached down in his jacket pocket. "Don't think you're getting away from me now, fraulein, not when I’ve just gotten you where I want you."

Your eyes widened when you saw him pull out a long bowie knife, hidden in plain sight, all this time. It wasn't even in a sheath to protect it.

"Please," You pleaded quietly, as he slid the knife up your front and severed the seat belt like hot metal through butter. "Please, Strade, please, let me go. I-I have friends, I'm going somewhere, you know that, they'll know I'm gone, they’ll know." You babbled erratically, every part of you trembling.

Strade just laughed, using the cut seatbelt as a makeshift rope to tie your trembling wrists to the car seat headrest above you (you had sunk down enough in the seat to get away from him that it was high up now).

You didn’t even try to fight him off that hard.

"Aww...you're still so hopeful, aren't you?"

His grin broadened, laced with malice as he watched the terror build in your eyes indulgently, like your fear was enough to sustain him.

"Do you actually think someone's going to come and save you...little college girl on her spring break, hm?” He asked, shaking his head further with a condescending little chuckle, before leaning in, his breathing heavy and ragged and excited. “No, I don’t think I’m going to let you go, fraulein…not when I have you right where I want you.”

"Please," You whimpered, your lip trembling as the first sting of tears began to bead in your eyes. "Don't kill me, please..."

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you. Don't worry."

You took in a shaky gasp as he raised the knife to your throat, immediately stilling when you felt the sharp edge of polished metal dig into your skin.

"I'm just going to have a bit of fun with you, that's all. That’s why you let me pick you up, isn’t it?" He pressed the knife down a little harder against your throat, leaning in even closer, thee bridge of his nose nestling against your jaw as you felt the sting of the blade. "You wanted someone to have fun with you, just like this..."

"Please don't hurt me...I-I'll do whatever you want," You murmured, tears spilling down your cheeks, trying not to move or struggle or shake too much and…encourage the knife to slip. “Please, please, please…”

"Aw, are you begging?" Strade’s grin widened even more, as he laughed at you, cruelly, meanly. “You really just get cuter and cuter the more you speak. I almost can’t stand it.”

You whimpered again as he raised his head to look at you, his face close enough to yours that he could have kissed you (if he wanted to), his tongue slipping out and licking his lips, and his breath heavy on your neck as his laugh trailed off into a low chuckle.

"Maybe I want to keep pretty things like you around...take my time with you, perhaps?” He mused softly, dragging the knife to a point and pressing it to the bottom of your chin. “Or maybe…I just want to do something with that pretty mouth of yours, hm?"

You gulped and squeezed your eyes shut, revolted by what you were about to say.

"Yes," You whispered, trembling a little more and pulling at the seatbelt that was binding you. "Do…a-anything you want to me. Just...please, please don't hurt me..."

He pulled back from you for a moment, raising his dark brows in a questioning look…like he was wondering if you were being truthful with him.

"Hmph. I know your type, you know. You'd say anything right now."

His expression shifted to one of mocking disappointment as he sighed, the knife moving slightly downwards and pressing into the hollow of your bobbing throat, as he studied your face.

"Do you really mean that? Or are you just trying to survive, eh?"

"I-I mean it," You stammered, pulling at the seatbelt again and swallowing hard, trying to sit up straight. "Anything. I'll...I'll even like it, too. I won't fight or scream or..." You sniffled, trying to shed the last of your tears. "Or cry."

"Really?” He gave you a doubtful smirk as he slid the knife downwards, easily cutting through the buttoned collar of your shirt. “You don't even know me, and you'd let me do whatever I want? With that pretty…” He enunciated each word by cutting away the buttons of your shirt, exposing more of your chest, your sternum, and your stomach. “Little,” Another button gone. “Mouth." Another.

“Yes. Anything.”

Once your shirt was completely open (showing your ratty sports bra), he lightly pressed the point of the knife against your breast, like it was about to be punctured. 

"And you'll like it?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yes," You sniffled again. "Just...don't hurt me."

"You promise~?” 

He lilted airily in your ear as the knife trailed over to the band between your bra cups, severing it without a modicum of effort and revealing even more of your chest as he peeled away each flap of fabric with the point of his knife.

You bit your lip when he let out an appreciative whistle at the sight of your bare chest, the buds of your nipples erect and perky in the cool air of the night, the silver piercings glinting in the dark.

"Nice tits," He commented with a snicker. "I'm surprised someone else didn't pick you up first with a rack like that." His lecherous dirty talk was enough to make you blush and look away. "Maybe you should have been a little more...open with them, hm?" "Strade-"

“Mm, no apprehension, please.” He chided, poking one of the piercings with the point of the knife and bringing his face close to yours. “We’re going to have fun, and you’re going to smile and say ‘thank you’ the entire time...no looking away or playing shy, now.” He pressed the point of the knife to the bud of your nipple then, his golden eyes locked on yours as it dug deeper and deeper. “Understood?”

You took in an unsteady gasp as a delicate bead of blood spilled down your breast, and looked up at him quickly.

He wasn't fucking around with you.

“U-Understand!" You said quickly, a rictus grin of pleasure coming to your face, the air cool on your tear-streaked face. Thank you~”

“Good girl ♡”

[fun-k-board]

Hey again friend.

How about a headcanon of being best friends and a student to smoke 😄😄 please

Tomas Vrbada / Smoke Friendship Headcanons

Note(s) : I'm still learning how to write about his character, so criticisms are appreciated.

If we're talking Lin Kuei, Tomas is probably the best option for a mentor because he's not as strict and, uh, scary as Bi-Han, and even less serious than Kuai Liang, although that's not hard because he's so responsible.

But, that doesn't mean he'll let you slack off.

Tomas has a schedule, which includes waking up extremely early, most likely 6 AM, getting dressed and having breakfast in the span of a few minutes, you're expected to be at training for at least 7 AM. Then you train until lunch, around 1 PM, which lasts until 2 PM and then you train until dinner, around 6PM.

He expects you, and everybody else who trains under him, to follow that schedule. He can accept a few excuses, injuries making it harder to get dressed, mental issues, maybe you were just really hungry and accidentally spent too long eating, whatever the case, he lets you off with a warning most of the time.

But if it becomes repeated behaviour you're going through more gruelling training for a week, only Bi-Han at that point can get you out of it, and everybody knows he won't.

He retains a friendly and casual relationship outside of your training, inviting you with his brothers to dinner, which is usually less than once a month. They're usually at Madame Bo's or another tea house, and he's usually the one paying.

You both talk while he trains you, mostly about other Lin Kuei members and their performance / behaviours. Smoke won't trash talk, but he will sometimes indulge in gossip. 'Did you hear about the new recruit who tried to fight Bi-Han?' 'They did what?!'

Even when you're fighting with more seriousness, he's still cracking a friendly joke here and there. Probably something about ice, fire, or smoke.

Speaking of, if you don't like puns about smoke, don't even talk to this guy. He somehow knows every pun in existence that even slightly relates to it, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are so tired of them they both just leave whenever he starts with one.

He adores if you match his energy, you two bounce back with constant puns that you forget training and leave Bi-Han to scold you two.

Tomas already has a strained relationship with Bi-Han, the man doesn't view him as a brother, let alone squeal, even though that's all Smoke wants from him. He doesn't mean to burden you with his issues, but sometimes he might ask 'Do you think I'm deserving of being a Lin Kuei?'

He won't stop being friends with you if Bi-Han doesn't like you, but maybe he will if Kuai doesn't, he looks up to Scorpion and views him as a major influence in life. But, the likelihood of Kuai ever actually telling him he doesn't like you is low, so, you're all good.

Given how the Lin Kuei works, I think you'd also have to train under his brothers or others in the clan once and a while, but mainly under him. He probably has other students to train, and so he's not always free for casual talk or sparring because he has others to mentor.

I'd say, for a guess, he most likely gets at least a day off, if not, breakfast, lunch and dinner is probably a time where he's free to at least go to a restaurant for food with you.

Shirai Ryu Tomas is different. While before he had maybe one day off, now he's always free because of how there's almost no recruits, only Hanzo and a few other kids who didn't have a good situation before the clan formed.

You'd most likely help the younger ones, and maybe have an 'assistant' role when teaching, the training is fairly lighter because they're just kids, but any adults or teens will have the same training as you, with a tighter schedule that you have to help maintain.

He has more free time to just... Hang around basically, he's always inviting you to have food with Kuai or his friends, like Johnny, Syzoth and most other members of the Kast, he's a big fan of helping you out with tasks.

Tomas will enjoy cleaning, for example, he expects you to help him obviously, especially if it's your room or armour he's helping clean. But, he enjoys it because it's productive and he gets to spend time with you.

Smoke also loves when you do things like that for him! Especially cooking, he's not... The best at it, so he appreciates when you make food after a long day of training and doing small missions for Liu Kang.

He doesn't touch the kitchen. Don't make him go near it.

He might try and teach you Czech or Chinese, if you don't know either already, this totally isn't just so when you're in crowded areas you can talk to each other without people listening, what are you talking about?

Although, it took him years to learn Chinese, so he understands if you find it too difficult and don't want to learn, that won't stop him from muttering words under his breath when he's annoyed.

He's not the biggest fan of hugs, don't get me wrong, he absolutely will if you ask him or he needs it, but he doesn't think he's ever been hugged since he was a kid, so it's just a bit unfamiliar.

Smoke likes holding your hand though, not only will you not get lost in crowds, but you can have friendly contact without it being too much for either of you.

Never ask him for relationship advice, if you want a wingman, look the other way. His love life consists of nothing, a barren desert, and he prefers to keep it that way.

[quichein-me-softly]

Hi! sorry to bother but I was wondering if you could do a sans x reader where it's like a first kiss scenario? It's alr if you can't! Have a great day!!

Author's note: No bother at all! And I'd actually like to thank you for being my first ask! Feel free to return with any new ideas lol

first kiss w/ sans

The stars shimmer softly above, casting a gentle glow over the empty picnic spot. The last of the laughter had faded, and the quiet hum of the night settled around you.

The day had been loud—filled with chatter and cheerful chaos. Papyrus and Undyne’s friendly bickering echoed over the hill as they teased each other about their sparring match, Alphys trying (and only half-succeeding) to wrangle Frisk into helping with an experiment that’d apparently gone slightly awry, Toriel chiding Asgore over a mix-up with the picnic basket.

But they've all gone home, leaving you with only the soft sounds of the night and the gentle presence of Sans beside you.

He leans back on the blanket, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the stars with that familiar, lazy grin of his. “gotta hand it to ya, sunshine. pretty solid idea for a get-together. beats grillbz any day.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly. “Oh, come on, nothing beats Grillby’s in your book.”

“eh, fair point. still, wouldn’t mind doin’ this again. maybe next time, i’ll even bring my… stellar humor.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, no. Please spare me the space puns, Sans. I don’t think I can take any more.”

“oh, c’mon, ya gotta admit, they're outta this world.”

You groan, hiding a grin. “Alright, I right walked into that one.”

"i call that a job well pun," he replied with a wink. You groan.

Then, you both fall into a comfortable silence, the night sky stretching endlessly above. The darkness wraps around you, serene and familiar, and you feel yourself relax into it, savoring the quiet, steady rhythm of simply being by his side. The world feels distant, leaving just the two of you, sharing a peace that needs no words.

After a moment, you tilt your head towards him, a thought surfacing as you gaze up at the sky. “Did monsters ever make wishes down in the Underground?” The question comes out softly, almost as if you’re afraid to break the spell of the moment.

“wishes, huh?” he echoes, his gaze staying fixed on the stars.

Sans' smile softens, and for a fleeting moment, something deeper lingers in his gaze. "yeah… yeah, we did. used to make ‘em all the time."

He pauses for a few seconds, choosing his next words carefully. "wishin' and waitin'… that was kinda all we had, y'know? we'd look up at the crystals in Waterfall, just hopin' someone out there might actually hear us." There’s something soft and somber in his tone, something that speaks of countless nights spent in darkness, staring up at artificial lights and longing for something… different.

As if the universe was listening, a shooting star streaks across the sky, a brief but brilliant trail of light. You catch your breath, feeling a little thrill as you shut your eyes and make a wish before the light disappears.

When you open your eyes, Sans is watching you with a faint, curious smile. “well, did ya wish for somethin’ good?”

“I did,” you reply, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. “What about you? Did you wish for anything?”

Sans leans back again, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. He hesitates a little, his face a touch more serious. "heh, if i told ya, it wouldn't come true."

But there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now, lingering just a little too long, as if he’s forgotten to say something else. The silence stretches, and before he can stop himself, he mumbles, “can’t help it, though… feels like i might be fallin’ for ya.”

The words hang between you, and he visibly tenses, realizing what he’s just said. “uh, i mean—trippin’. heh, yeah. trippin’ for ya… guess i… gotta watch my step…” But the attempt to backtrack doesn’t fool either of you.

His face softens, the humor falling away as his gaze meets yours with something far more honest, even a little shy.

Heart pounding, you leaned closer, the fabric of your clothes brushing together as you whispered his name, barely able to find your voice.

"Sans?"

“what?” he murmurs, the word barely more than a breath, his voice tender and uncharacteristically soft.

Before you know it, you’ve closed the gap, your lips brushing his teeth in a feather-light touch. For a moment, he doesn’t move, and you worry you’ve crossed a line, that this might be too much—too soon. But then, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, hesitant yet grounding, as if he’s anchoring himself in the moment.

The kiss is soft and achingly gentle.

When you pull back, his eyes meet yours, carrying a warmth that speaks louder than any words. The moment hangs between you, charged with something fragile yet profound, neither of you daring to look away.

Finally he leans forward, his mouth brushing yours once more, this time with a little more confidence. The hum of his magic mingles with the crisp night air as he pulls you closer, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he deepens the kiss. Each movement is careful and deliberate, as though he’s savoring something he’s barely dared to hope for. The kiss holds a quiet sincerity, making it feel precious—like he’s offering you a part of himself.

As you part, he lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way that shows he’s genuinely happy. The sound fills the quiet night, a soft echo of joy that lingers between you.

“So,” you say softly, trying to calm your racing heart, “what’d you wish for?”

He looks at you, his voice softened by a gentleness that feels almost like an answer in itself. “maybe i’ll tell ya someday…”