#i think he's taking it as input on HIS personal life and what he does with HIS relationships and HIS ex (wife) (lol)

[xerith-42]

I keep trying to explain how I go about writing certain characters to people, to like explain my process and make them easier to write, but my advice can only go so far. Because a solid 80% of my character writing is just basing characters off of me or people I know.

For example, one of my favorite things to do with Aaron Lycan is make him somebody who very casually messes with his friends. He's the type of guy to say, "I lost the game" in a quiet room to instantly cause chaos. If he knows you know the circle hand game, he will never let you know a moment of peace afterward. I have Aaron do this for 3 reasons, and I think explaining them might explain my character building process as a whole.

1) I and/or people I know do this. The above examples are both things I have done and had friends do to me. My wife likes to remind me that the English voice actor for one of the hottest anime women I've ever seen also voiced Kechiro in the Ghost Stories Dub, she actively enjoys doing this because my reaction is always funny. It's very easy for me to write a character doing something I know.

2) I think it's funny. MyStreet, at least at the start, was a slice of life comedy with a vague adherence to an overarching narrative. Therefore I will decide elements of characters based on the funniest bits I can come up with in relation to them. This is why I make Blaze and Aaron friendly rivals, because they both have a pension for casual chaos that is fine on its own, but amplified to hilarious extremes when around each other.

3) I can then reverse engineer this to be character accurate. The stuff I've talked about with Aaron aren't really true to his character, sort of. Aaron's an interesting case because his personality can vary WILDLY from season to season, and I don't really like... most of them. But my favorite version of him is in the last chunk of Season 1, and Love Love Paradise, where he's come out of his shell enough to start ribbing with his friends, mostly Aphmau, but to a lesser extent Dante and Garroth. And a lot of Aaron's humor is observational, and sometimes at the expense of others for the bit. That's a thing he does more than once, so I can just take that to the logical end point of him being like that with anyone once he opens up to them.

I know he and Melissa played things like Slug Bug and Banana on road trips until one of them punched the other too hard and told mom about it, usually Aaron being really whiny about any consequence over this. He has sent a disguised YouTube link to a group chat saying it's his "new project for college" he wants some input on and then Rick Rolls everyone present. Aaron likes causing strong reactions out of people because it's what he knows best. His family are either entirely closed off or overly emotional with no in between. His eventual wife is unhinged and speaks her mind without thought. All of her friends are weird as hell.

When Aaron gets comfortable with people, he pushes their buttons a little because he knows it's funny, and they'll have a fun time with it to.

So my advice for writing MyStreet characters is to arbitrarily decide something about them in a fic and then re-examine their character with this concept in mind because 9 times out of 10 it'll just work. MyStreet characters are very maluable, but also always have enough going on in their lives or childhoods to make sense of any behaviors they have.

[ellewritesx]

cabin pressure

Summary: He's your boss. You're his assistant. But 30,000 feet in the air, it's not exactly tour logistics he's asking you to handle.

Warnings: fingering, handjob, public sex, slight praise kink, a little bit of dom!Harry

A/N: thanks for the love on my first fic! this is the first smutty fic i've written, so you know the drill; don't take it too seriously. let me know if i've forgotten any warnings or if you'd like a part two because i've got some ideas ;) enjoy x

Word Count: 3,329

...

The cabin rumbles with a soft, steady vibration beneath your feet, the kind that settles in your bones after a while, a quiet reminder that you're thirty-thousand feet in the air with nothing but a view of the top of the clouds outside the window.

You've gotten so used to plane rides that they feel like buses now.

Life on the road tended to blur together after a while. Cities changed, skies shifted, but the routine stayed mostly the same: wake, work, soundcheck, show, sleep. Rinse and repeat. But somewhere in that loop, magic lived. The sound of a crowd screaming in the moments before Harry took the stage. The quiet backstage hum of instruments being tuned. The weird little moments, like brushing your teeth next to Harry in the bathroom of a green room or eating post-show ramen in sweatpants with the crew at 2 a.m. It wasn't glamorous, not always. But it was real. And weirdly beautiful.

But right now, there's no excited chatter echoing off the polished surfaces, no quiet strumming of an instrument, no 5-minute calls. Just the soft roaring of the engine and the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep behind a curtain. It's late and you're flying somewhere above the Atlantic, everyone tucked away for the red-eye haul to Lisbon.

Except you.

And Harry.

You're curled up beside him in the plush leather seat, a warm blanket draped over the both of you, your laptop balanced on your thighs, the screen casting a faint glow across your face. The soft click of the trackpad is the only sound between you as you scroll through the updated tour logistics: merch drop schedules, radio interviews, VIP timetables, revised set list cues...

You're focused. Professional. And painfully aware of how close Harry's knee is to yours.

''Alright,'' you speak up softly, not looking at him. ''I just need your input on the new Paris VIP plan. They want to add a backstage Q&A before soundcheck, only thirty minutes, but it overlaps with your press block. I told them I'd check with you first.''

Harry's quiet for a beat. You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, even though you're pretending not to.

''What do you think I should do?'' he asks eventually, voice low, almost sleepy.

Your stomach tightens. He does that often. Asks for your thoughts, your judgement, like he actually values your opinion. You try to ignore the way it makes your stomach churn and remind yourself that this is in your job description.

''I think we should move the press slot,'' you say, typing a note quickly. ''You'll have more time to reset before soundcheck that way. And you like talking to the fans. You always leave in a better mood.''

He huffs a quiet laugh. ''You pay attention to my mood, do you?''

Shit.

You blink at your screen, then glance over at him. He's leaning against the armrest, hoodie sleeves pushed up, tattoos half-hidden in the soft light. One rogue curl has graciously fallen above his brow and his lips are tilted in the barest smirk.

''Comes with the territory,'' you say quickly, like it's no big deal. ''I need to know when to avoid you.''

That makes him laugh, low and raspy, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you look back at your screen. It's fine. You're fine.

You've been his personal assistant for over a year now. You've memorized his schedule, his allergies, his coffee order and the name of the plushie he brings on tour, despite vehemently denying it. You know when he's tense, when he needs quiet, when he needs to be left alone. You're loyal, always. Unshakable.

And hopelessly, stupidly, quietly in love with him.

But he doesn't know that. Can't know that. You're too good at your job for that kind of mistake.

And you love your job. There was something electric about being on tour: the long nights, the endless movement, the rush of showtime. You loved the chaos of it all, how no two days were the same. You loved the adrenaline that kicked in when a last-minute change had to be made, and you were the one everyone looked to for the fix. It gave you purpose, grounding. And honestly, you thrived in it.

Even in the exhausting moments, the jet lag, the back-to-back shows, the late-night emails... you never once regretted taking this job. Being around music, around the team, around him, made everything worth it.

You'd slipped into the rhythm of the tour crew like you'd been part of it for years. There was something comforting about the way everyone moved together, the shared glances, the inside jokes, the group breakfasts in hotel lobbies.

You were the youngest on the team, but nobody made you feel small. They trusted you, and more importantly, they liked you. Jeff always brought you coffee when you looked like hell. Pauli made you laugh when you were wound too tight. It felt like family. Loud, messy, and wildly dysfunctional, but it was yours.

And Harry's an incredible boss, to nobody's surprise. He was thoughtful. Kind. A little quiet in meetings, but always listening. Always noticing. He never barked orders, he asked, genuinely. And when he thanked you for something, it wasn't in that empty, offhanded way people often do. He meant it. You could feel it in the way he said your name. It made you want to work harder, not out of obligation, but because he deserved that kind of loyalty.

''I should finish this before we land,'' you murmur, starting to scroll again. ''Still need to go through wardrobe notes for Madrid.''

You don't notice the way he watches you, how his gaze trails from focused eyes down to your parted lips, how he swallows when your fingers twitch on the keyboard.

''You never let me help,'' he points out softly, drawing your attention back to him.

You blink. ''Help with…?''

''Any of this,'' he gestures toward your screen. ''You do everything. Handle everything. I don't know how you're not burnt out yet.''

''I'm your assistant. It's kind of my job, Harry,'' you say with a soft chuckle and a slight tilt of your head, confused.

''You're the best assistant I've ever had,'' he hums, eyes dark.

Something about the way he says it makes your heart stutter.

You weren't sure when it happened exactly, when your feelings shifted, digging deeper into your skin than just a work relationship. Maybe it was the night in Atlanta when he stayed behind after everyone left the venue just to help you find your clipboard, calming you with hushed reassurances as you spiraled.

Or maybe it was how he never let anyone talk over you in meetings, always circling back to your points, asking what you thought. It was slow, creeping, this ache in your chest every time he smiled at you like he knew you, really knew you. You told yourself it would pass.

But that night in Austin you'd known. You'll never forget the way your breath had caught in your throat.

The setlist had already been printed, laminated, sent to every team lead. Your favorite song, a deep cut he rarely performed, wasn't on it. It never was. But during the encore, he looked over his shoulder at you backstage, smirked, and softly said into the mic, ''Think I'll do one more.'' And just like that, he launched into it.

When he sang the bridge, his eyes finding yours for a split second in the wings, it had felt like a secret. Like he was saying, I see you. I know, and you'd known you'd never be the same after that.

''Don't say things like that,'' you say quietly, forcing a smile. ''I might start thinking you actually like me,'' you joke, a futile attempt to lighten the tension that's suddenly growing between you.

There's a pause. Too long. You risk a glance at him, only to find him already looking at you.

''I do,'' he says.

Just that. Without a teasing lilt to his tone, or the shit-eating grin he usually wears that tells you he's just messing with you.

Your breath catches. Your fingers freeze on the keyboard. ''Harry…''

''I know.'' He looks away quickly, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. ''I shouldn't have said that. You're… important. To me. To the crew. I can't mess that up.''

The silence that follows is loud. You can hear your heart pounding. Feel the ache in your chest, years of unspoken want stretching tight between you.

You glance up at him. And for the first time in months, you let yourself see it. The flushed pink at the tips of his ears. The subtle quickening of his breathing. The way his hand flexes on his thigh like he's stopping himself from reaching for you.

His gaze drops to your lips.

''You don't know how long I've wanted to kiss you,'' he says suddenly, voice barely a whisper, like he doesn't even realize he's saying it out loud.

Your mouth goes dry.

''So why haven't you?'', you whisper. He blinks like he hadn't expected the question.

Then, quietly, he says, ''Because I can't lose you. I reckon the team would fall apart without you. You're too good at your job for me to screw it up... just so I could finally have you.''

You can't breathe. Not when he's looking at you like that. And still, even now, you almost chicken out. Almost.

But then your voice breaks through the thick silence, soft and unsteady.

''What if I said I wanted you to?''

His jaw tenses.

You feel it before you see it, the moment he snaps. Quietly, calmly, but undeniably.

His hand slides over your laptop, closes it, and sets it aside.

''Then come here,'' he says, voice low and dark. ''And let me show you how long I've been waiting.''

And suddenly, you're not just sitting beside your boss anymore. You're alone (well, you're shielded from the rest of the cabin by only a curtain, but close enough) with the man who's been undressing you with his eyes for months. Who knows what you look like on two hours of sleep. Who knows your parents' birthdays, your calendar, the way your lips part when you're concentrating too hard.

And now, you swear he knows the exact second your thighs press together under the blanket.

You hesitate.

Not because you don't want him. God, you want him. But the rest of the crew is right there, just past the curtain. His manager's asleep two rows in front of you. Someone else stirs faintly behind you.

''Harry,'' you whisper, panic tugging at your voice. ''There are people.''

''I know,'' he murmurs, shifting closer. His thigh presses against yours, thick and warm beneath the blanket. ''We'll be quiet. Won't we, sweetheart?''

Sweetheart.

It wrecks you.

His fingers slip beneath the edge of the plush blanket. Nothing scandalous, just resting on your leg, but the promise in the gesture sends heat rocketing through you. You feel like you've been lit from the inside out.

''You can stop me anytime,'' he whispers, lips ghosting your ear. ''But if you let me keep going…'' A pause. A low, shaky breath. ''I'm not gonna be sweet about it.''

You breathe in too fast. Your lungs are full of him: his cologne, his warmth, the tension radiating off him like a second skin.

And you nod.

One small nod.

That’s all it takes.

His hand slides higher.

Slips under the waistband of your shorts. Over your bare thigh. Slow, reverent strokes, like he's committing your skin to memory. You try to stay still. Normal. But your breath is already shaking, and his hand is so sure. Confident. Dangerous.

''You've been wearing these shorts on purpose, haven't you?'' he whispers, breath tickling your neck. ''Walking in front of me. Bending over at every venue. Teasing me. Torturing me.''

You shake your head, a weak protest, but he just chuckles, dark and low.

''Liar,'' he murmurs.

And then his fingers brush the edge of your panties.

You jump. Just a little. But his hand steadies you, palm flat on your thigh, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin.

''Easy,'' he breathes. ''Let me touch you. Please, Y/N. Let me feel how wet you are for me.''

The sound your throat makes is borderline embarrassing, a choked gasp you barely catch in time. You grip the blanket tighter. Focus on breathing, on staying quiet.

''Shh, darling,'' he breathes, voice cracked and needy. ''You're gonna get us caught.''

He doesn't rush.

He slides two fingers over your clothed center, slow and deliberate. Feels the damp heat there and groans, quiet and low, like he's physically in pain.

''Fuck, baby,'' he whispers under his breath. ''You're soaked.''

You bury your face in your hand, heat crawling up your neck at the filthy words coming from your boss' mouth. ''Harry—''

''You've been like this the whole flight?'' he hisses, fingers pressing harder, rubbing circles through the fabric. ''Sitting beside me like a perfect little assistant, meanwhile your cunt's fucking throbbing under that laptop of yours?''

You nod, throat too tight to answer. His fingers trace over the damp fabric, slow and teasing, his touch maddeningly gentle; not enough to satisfy, just enough to torture. He keeps his eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch the moment your self-control snaps.

You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily. His hand is caught there now, stuck between them, exactly where he wants to be.

''Don't do that,'' he warns, voice tight. ''Don't hide from me.''

He presses down harder, fingers deliberately rubbing you through the soaked fabric. To anyone watching, it might not even look all that suspicious. But under the blanket, he's drawing filthy, lazy circles over your clit, just soft enough to make you squirm.

''You like bein' good for me, yeah?'' he murmurs against your temple, breath hot. ''Such a good assistant. Always do what you're told.''

You nod desperately, your hips rolling into his touch before you can stop them. He slides your underwear to the side with a practiced flick of his fingers, making you jolt again, whimpering in your throat. His fingers are on your bare pussy now, hot, thick, and teasing as he parts you slowly, lazily.

''You're gonna make me come in my fucking pants,'' he grits, barely moving his wrist as he slides a finger between your folds. ''You have no idea what you do to me.''

You're shaking.

You've fantasized about this on hotel beds, in green rooms, on long drives while he slept beside you in the tour bus. But nothing could've prepared you for the way he touches you. The way he whispers filth in your ear like it's poetry. Like every word comes straight from his heart.

''Open your legs for me, love,'' he says. ''Let me in.''

You do.

Without hesitation.

You shift, knees falling apart just enough under the blanket, and he rewards you by sliding one thick finger inside.

You gasp, one hand flying to cover your mouth and the other gripping his thigh under the blanket, nails digging in, as he pumps his finger slowly, gently, curling it right against your spot, like he's known your body for years without ever having touched you.

''There she is,'' he murmurs. ''That's my good girl.''

Your eyes roll back.

You grip the seat, try to breathe through your nose and bite your lip so hard you taste blood, your entire body trembling from the effort of staying silent. But he's not being merciful. He's savoring it. Twisting his wrist, adding a second finger, fucking you slow and deep under the cover of that soft blanket while the rest of the crew sleeps just feet away. He scissors you open, making you gasp out softly behind your hand, pressing his thumb to your clit with just enough pressure.

''You're so tight,'' he groans softly. ''Gonna take my cock so fucking well.''

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your hand to stay silent. When you flutter them open slightly, you notice it.

His other hand is moving.

You blink through the dim light.

He's gripping himself under the blanket.

''Harry—''

''Shh,'' he whispers. ''I'm not gonna fuck you yet. Just need your hand. Need to feel you, baby, please.''

You stare at him, dazed. He's got your cunt stretched on two fingers and now he's hard too, thick and flushed and leaking against his fist, the stupid blanket draped over you blocking most of your view.

This shouldn't be happening.

You're his assistant. His team is right there.

And yet your hand is already moving before you can think twice, already wrapping around the base of his cock, warm and slick and heavy in your palm.

''Fucking hell,'' he breathes, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. ''Y/N…'' he pants softly, his chest rising and falling hypnotically.

You stroke him slowly, in rhythm with the way he's fucking your cunt with his fingers. It's a miracle no one's noticed, everyone either asleep or wearing noise-cancelling headphones, the lighting dim, the blanket mercifully thick.

''You feel so good,'' he whispers, leaning closer. ''So warm and wet and perfect. Fuck, I've thought about this every night, getting myself off in the bathroom of every fucking venue while the whole team's waiting for me. I see you watching me every show, looking at me with those doe eyes, practically begging to be fucked, aren't you, baby?''

You whimper, pace quickening. His hips stutter into your hand, his fingers curling hard inside you.

You let out a soft, pained moan into your palm, thighs shaking as he pumps into you faster now, fingers slick and relentless. Your orgasm slams into you, sudden and all-consuming, and your body goes tight, locked up against the seat as he works you through it. Tears sting your eyes as the pleasure tears through you in silent, pulsing waves, Harry whispering praises against your ear as you shake through it.

He groans softly, barely audible, lips brushing your ear as you come undone in his hand.

''That's it. That's my girl. So quiet. So fucking good.''

You stroke him faster now, emboldened. He thrusts into your hand, sharp and desperate.

''I'm gonna come,'' he warns, voice breaking. ''Fuck. Gonna come all over your hand, sweetheart.''

You grip him tighter.

His breath catches, and then he's spilling in your hand, hips jerking, quiet curses hissing through clenched teeth. You feel it coat your skin, warm and messy beneath the blanket.

Neither of you moves for a long moment.

Just panting.

Reeling.

Your hand is still under the blanket, sticky and warm. His hand is still between your thighs, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin as you try to recover.

It takes a full minute before you can breathe again, and when he finally pulls his fingers from you slowly, your body shudders at the loss of connection. He brings them to his lips, sucks them clean without shame, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

''Taste even better than I imagined.''

You stare at him, wide-eyed, wrecked. Boneless. He just smirks, brushing your hair back like nothing happened.

''Next time,'' he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your collarbone, your neck, your jaw. ''I'm fucking you.''

You shiver.

A curtain rustles behind you, someone getting up to grab a water, and you both quickly pull back, sitting up straight.

Like nothing happened.

Like you're just two co-workers sitting beside one another, watching the clouds.

But under the blanket, your hearts are still racing, your cunt still pulsing, the remnants of his release still coating your hand.

And the line between boss and assistant?

Officially obliterated.

''Now,'' he clears his throat, settling back in his seat with a soft smile like he didn't just ruin you, ''about that Dublin setlist.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

[ms-spkhd]

Part one

Admittedly, Eddie feels really fucking stupid about it in retrospect. Jeff tells him, in that soft and placating way he tells him anything, that he should stop worrying about his hindsight bias. Yeah, right. Hindsight bias doesn't apply for Steve Harrington dangling himself in front of Eddie's face like the metaphorical carrot on a stick.

It feels like a kick in the head, if anything. One that rattles his brain against his skull like the ricochet of a bullet. Or a maraca with a single, tiny bead in it, if he wants to be more technical about it.

But that's beside the point. What's important is that Steve Harrington is, like, into Eddie--which definitely throws all of his preconceived notions about boy wonder with serial monogamy problems of the heterosexual variety out of the fucking window and past the goalpost--and Eddie's been farting around for the past few months twiddling his fucking thumbs about it.

Well, it's not definitive.

The more that Eddie ruminates on it--and he spends several nights ruminating on it--Jeff's theory that Steve might be tipping the Kinsey scale sounds like...well. A theory.

It's the doubt that comes rearing its head that stops Eddie in his tracks from actually doing anything.

("Wow," Jeff grumbles as they hotbox in the back of Jeff's hand-me-down olive green Pinto a week after their stunning revelation, "trust Virgin Supreme to self-sabotage when someone is begging for you to climb on his lap and--"

"I told you that in confidence," Eddie spits as he digs through the glove compartment for a cassette to replace the oft-abused Kill 'Em All tape that's been blaring on repeat for the past two hours. "You're really mean when you're high, you know that, right?"

Jeff shrugs and takes a hit of the blunt they've been sharing. "I'm releasing my inhibitions. You can't silence me.")

Eddie trusts Steve. Of course he'd lay down his life for the man that dragged him out of hell without a single look behind like a preppy fucking Orpheus. But there's always the lingering thought that, despite everything they've gone through together, Eddie loving Steve would be the tipping point that ruins everything.

He finds himself balancing the line of keeping it in, too scared of the risk his heart will pose on their friendship, and fully committing to the pipe dream of Steve Harrington possibly wanting him back.

And, in Jeff's wise words, Biblically.

"Hey, Bird," Eddie asks Robin one night at the drive-in theater when Steve's out buying their snacks--medium popcorn loaded with cheddar powder and butter for Eddie, since he just popped a Lactaid ten minutes beforehand, and Milk Duds for Robin--"What would you do, hypothetically, if you think someone is really into you--"

"Here we go," Robin sighs, leaning back in the passenger seat. Eddie can't help but feel miffed at her dismissive attitude, but he knows for a fact that she's all ears.

"--And you, hypothetically, really like them back, but you don't know for sure if they actually, hypothetically, want you, or if it's just wishful thinking on your part?"

"Any you mean this totally hypothetically?" Robin says as she turns to face the rear seats where he's sitting and chewing at his cuticles.

"Yeah. This is a theoretical situation that I want your input in. Think of it like a...thought experiment."

Robin nods with narrowed eyes, like she sees through the bullshit with an all-seeing eye. "Right. Thought experiment. Is this hypothetical person a queer or not?"

"It never crossed your mind," Eddie confirms. "She looks like the posterchild of suburban heterosexuality, but she's gotten very invested in your very gay sex life out of the blue recently."

"So which one of you is the man invested or tell me about what eating out is like invested?"

"Tell me what eating out is like invested."

Robin hums in thought, tapping her index finger against her chin like the situation is really vexing her. "That sounds pretty gay, Eddie."

She is right, that does sound pretty gay. But it doesn't help him in his predicament at all, since Steve seemed to back off about the 'so do you play rock paper scissors to find out who gets it?' questions after Eddie frustratedly admitted that 'DnD club president and metalhead virgin at almost twenty' wasn't exactly a hot item in Indianapolis, much less Hawkins.

"Okay, new layer," Eddie says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "What if, say, instead of asking you out--which you think is her next move--she starts trying to set you up with a bunch of girls you don't know."

There's muffled chatter from outside the Beemer's windows. Cars rev in the distance as they pull into the lot. Eddie watches Robin in contemplative silence as she thinks through her answer.

"That is difficult," she concedes, and Eddie is feeling more desperate than ever. "Can't imagine that ever happening to me."

Eddie mumbles, "Thank God it's a hypothetical."

"But if you think about it, it's either some misguided attempt to put me out there, or it's a Hail Mary to get me to realize I like her."

"Okay, well. Both options seem pretty hard to differentiate when you don't know what the fucking context behind the action is."

"For what it's worth," Robin says, her expression softening ever-so-slightly, "I think it's the Hail Mary. It's not my place to tell, but you should really give up the idea that it's wishful thinking and give it a shot."

Eddie's a millisecond away from asking, is it that obvious? before there's a sharp knock against his window. He yelps, head whipping around to find Steve with that sly grin slapped on his stupid, handsome face.

Eddie rolls down the window and tries to school his expression. He doesn't need to, really, because Steve shoves the popcorn into his hands and declares, "A medium sized popcorn with cheddar powder and lots of fucking butter for you, my friend. Bone of a teeth."

"Just fucking say it regularly," Robin groans as he yanks open the drivers seat door and tosses her a box of Milk Duds. "I know you can, you jackass!"

Steve laughs, full and hearty, as he turns to look at Eddie in the rear seats. He's like bottled-up sunshine contained into the shape of an American heartthrob. He's like Venus as a boy.

Eddie feels like he's staring down the barrel of a gun.

Another week of ruminating goes by, this time with Robin's words echoing in his head like a reverb pedal, and Eddie keeps that yellow pick near his heart the entire time. It's a real push and pull type situation, he realizes. His heart goes one way, his brain goes the other, which is fucking typical.

He doesn't talk to Jeff about it, because he knows he'll get the same answer, and he doesn't dare talk to Robin about it again. He feels she knows too much, and he has know idea how much she's accidentally telepathically transferred to Steve.

Eddie is about halfway through debating shaving his hair off as a way of regaining control when he finds Steve standing on his doorstep like a fucking Mormon.

"Eddie, man," Steve says with zero preamble, "my cousin's boyfriend has a roommate that I think you'd like."

"Nice weather we're having," Eddie responds blankly. Frankly, with the way things are going, he's getting sick of it.

But he can't help the way that Steve still looks beautiful as his eyebrows bunch together and pretty pink lips pinch into a thin line.

"Come on, man. I think this'll be a good start for you. I think he's into the same bands as you. I think Kathy said he was a Skid Row roadie, or something like that."

"I'm not that big of a Hair Metal guy," Eddie admits, and Steve deflates a bit.

"Well, if it helps, he kind of looks like me.' Jesus Christ. "Devastatingly handsome and all."

Eddie's damn near about to snap like a worn-out Stretch Armstrong being mauled by two pitbulls. He feels like he's about to blow a fucking gasket in front of the guy he's been holding very ill-advised affection towards since his sophomore year of high school. The very same guy who's been trying to set Eddie up with literally everyone with a functioning penis with exception of himself, the only guy Eddie has wanted. Ever.

There's no way Steve is that dense, right?

Eddie knows that the guy's smart, despite everyone telling him otherwise. Steve can definitely do mental math better than Eddie can dream of doing--since Frankie Gershwin passed down the sacred Hellfire DM calculator once Eddie took over Hellfire after he graduated--and he actually graduated on time, unlike yours truly.

But Eddie doesn't fucking get it.

"Steve," Eddie blurts, rather unceremoniously, "what are you doing?"

Steve blinks. His smile wanes dangerously low. "...I'm setting you up with a handsome dude."

"I don't understand why you're doing this though. Are you fucking with me, or something?"

"No, dude, I just..." Steve's expression shifts. His shoulders sag and he rakes a hand through his hair. He looks devastatingly earnest. "I just want to see you happy."

"If you want me to be happy," Eddie snaps, "then just ask me out yourself, since I've fucking been in love with you since April."

Steve freezes, hazelnut eyes like full moons on dinnerplates.

Eddie's hand flexes on the doorknob as he resists the white-hot urge to slam the door shut on Steve's shocked face. Maybe he should take a vacation down south to Mexico. Perhaps change his name and never come back. Hopefully there'll be sweet and earnest boys with olive skin and luscious hair waiting for him on the beaches of Cancun. Holy shit this is a fucking disaster.

"Oh," Steve says.

"Yeah, oh."

"You love me?" Steve asks, eyes sparkling like the rural sky. He draws closer to Eddie, raising a hand that begs to touch him.

"When have I not?" Eddie admits as leans into Steve's touch against his shoulder and laces their fingers together.

I guess I was, uh. I wasn't expecting it." Steve smiles softly and gazes at their intertwined hands.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love me too?"

"Oh God." It's like Eddie's staring straight into the sun, with the ways Steve's smile grows more intense with each second. He wants to have it burned into his retinas. "Of course I do. It feels so stupid how much I'm obsessed with you."

"You know, you have a weird way of putting it, what with all the setting me up with guys I don't know," Eddie chirps. Steve chuffs and shakes his head like a guilty dog.

"I guess I wasn't expecting you to want me back. I wasn't sure you'd go for guys like me."

For jocks hangs heavy and silent in the air between them, as if Steve hasn't quite jumped over that hurtle of guilt over the person he was in high school. Sure, he was king of the letter crowd, but he's nothing like the douchebag from '83. Steve would never shove him into a locker or be a general chest-beating moron around Eddie, because he's not a moron. He's sweet and dorky and a little misguided, sometimes, but he has the heart of the size of a mack truck and a kindness to show it.

The thought of Steve talking Eddie's ear off about Sportsketball and the works sends an excited little shiver down his spine.

"I would," Eddie says, completely and utterly honestly. "God, I would for you."

He brings Steve's hand to his lips and smacks a wet kiss over the soft skin. "And the necklace..."

"That was my Hail Mary," Steve admits with a bashful shrug of his shoulders.

"I haven't taken it off since you've given it to me."

Steve releases his grip from Eddie's spindly hand and brushes his fingertips against Eddie's collarbone, tugging at the chain of the necklace until it untucks itself from underneath Eddie's shirt. Eddie watches the way that Steve lights up like a fucking electrical surge at the hint of sunshine yellow against his pale skin. It makes Eddie flush a bright red.

And when Steve's palm flattens against Eddie's chest and pushes him inside Eddie's new government loaned trailer, he lets himself be pushed against the wall and kissed.

And kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

Sufficed to say, when Eddie wakes up the next morning with Steve drooling against the back of his neck and his warm hand splayed against the skin of his naked chest, Eddie vows to always take Jeff's word for it.

____________

holy shit i was not expecting for part one to get that much fanfare. to be honest, i was totally intending for it to be a one and done to explore eddie and jeff's friendship, and believe me, my heart is so warmed by the reception it got. i recently have gotten myself out of a months long slump and have been swamped with college work, so i apologize for my writing being so few and far between. thank you all and i hope this is the resolution you were waiting so patiently for! :)

@grtwdsmwhr @eyehartart @bananahoneycomb @notasmoothman @colidamae

[norrisainz33]

stroints || ls18

summary: you attend your first ever grand prix as lance's partner and he has a great season opening weekend!

pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

fc & warnings: none & slightly suggestive at the end. you are responsible for the content you consume!

requested: yes! thank you so much for your request xx

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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chloestroll: wait i love them both. i say wear the white on race day and blue on quali day

ynuser: ooooo good idea! i was considering wearing some aston merch on sunday and one of these on saturday but maybe i do what you said instead

chloestroll: oh i mean aston merch would be cute af too

ynuser: hmmmmmmm too many decisions here bc i also have this super cute jean set that maybe i’ll wear on race day instead ugh idek

lilyzneimer: either way you're going to outshine everyone you're radiant

ynuser: thank you baby girl 😭

lance_stroll: trying not to drool over how fcking gorgeous you are

ynuser: lance stopppp 😭😭

lance_stroll: it’s true!! i’ve somehow bagged the most beautiful girl in the entire world

ynuser: you’re such a sweet talker

lance_stroll: 🤷🏻‍♂️

lilymhe: the white top is to die for pls that one

ynuser: thank you for the input doll

yourbff: hear me out. white top with that gorgeous big gold necklace our favorite man got you

ynuser: no because you’re so right. that’s it! that’s the fit for quali!

flavy_barla: omg personally i'd pick the lace top

ynuser: yesss i think it 100% is the winner

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 18,188 others

f1gossip: is this lance stroll’s lucky charm? meet lance’s new partner, y/n y/l/n, who is making her race day debut! the couple's romance has been the talk of the town ever since those sizzling new year's eve photos were spotted on chloe stroll’s story. will y/n be the secret weapon aston martin’s been waiting for this season? only time will tell!

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user1: oh….. she’s literally so pretty?

user2: cut the tapes! ive seen enough! shes my new favorite wag

user3: god i hope she brings lancey good luck. he needs it fr

user7: no he really does. i just want the best for him this season

user4: did y'all see the way shes wearing an L necklace

user1: stop im too fragile for this

user5: WHO is this diva

user2: if u find out lmk! i just tried to scroll her insta and its private but she seems so normal

user5: lowkey... i think she is just a normal girl... i found her linkedin and she out here having a full time job

user2: this has to be rage bait... shes living my dream

user5: no truly. im so jealous but also im rooting for her?

user6: why did i not know about her sooner?! do we think lance can fight?

user8: he can't fight us all!

user33: no one cares abt her or stroll

user1: the hate is so forced gtfo

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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yourbff: you gotta warn a girl before posting something as scary as that first slide (i say this with love)

ynuser: SCERAMING hes just a goofy lil guy

yourbff: if you say so girly pop

chloestroll: leo and i are curled up and ready to watch uncle lancey bring it home!

ynuser: omg even little leo is watching?! its his first race too <3

chloestroll: we gotta support our favorite uncle!!!!

astonmartinf1: send us that first pic im begging

ynuser: only if you agree to post it on every social media channel you have

astonmartinf1: he's not gonna like that... but for you.... anything xxoo

ynuser: admin you are my favorite

astonmartinf1: and you're mine but don't tell anyone i said that

lilymhe: adjusting to the paddock life?

ynuser: kind of? every time i breath a camera takes another picture of me. i'm terrified they're going to get something embarrassing

lilymhe: hahahaha i mean odds are high that they will. remember what i said and just try to ignore them and act natural. i swear the media can smell fear

ynuser: that must be why they're always around. im sure im radiating it

lilymhe: deep breaths y/n/n its ok

lance_stroll: WHY

ynuser: omg get off ur phone you have a race to score points in

ynuser: oh now you wanna leave me on read ok

flavy.barla: if you need someones hand to squeeze through the the first few laps... you know where to find me babe

ynuser: no i literally am on my way. they haven't even finished the formation lap and i'm going to throw up

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by chloestroll, estebanocon, ynuser, astonmartinf1, boss, scottyjames31, yourbff, flavy.barla and 897,443 others

lance_stroll: a fantastic start to the season! thank you to the team and everyone who worked so hard over the off season to get this car where it is. lets keep this momentum going!!

view all comments

user1: a double exclamation???? you must be over the moon my stoic king

ynuser: stroints!!!!!! this calls for a celebration

lance_stroll: yes it does ;)

estebanocon: wait count flavy and i in to this celebration??

flavy.barla: yes please!!!

ynuser: well duhhhh

user5: need photo evidence of this party so bad. f1gossip im counting on you

user2: yayyyyyy lance!!!!

chloestroll: leo and i are so proud of you

scottyjames31: thats our favorite uncle right there!

lance_stroll: love you guys 🤍

user18: y/n made the win photo dump im crying. she's def his good luck charm, i hope she comes to every race

astonmartinf1: well done lance! 💚

user22: thats our goat!! can't help but notice you're ahead of that horse team in the standings... lets keep that going boy

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 22,258 others

f1gossip: because you all asked so nicely and we couldn't not deliver..... we got some intel that a certain driver, his new partner, their friends and a few other drivers are out celebrating the start of the season in melbourne this evening

view all comments

user1: AHHHHHH MAN

user5: my goat! you always pull through. idk how u got eyes everywhere

f1gossip: and thats a secret ill never tell xx

user3: WOW lance looks good af im about to start drooling..

user4: y/n one lucky girl thats for dam sure

user5: no genuinely i am so envious

user6: i just fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot

user12: lance i was unfamiliar with your game

user18: esteban and alex are there too so cuteeeeee

user22: he needed this

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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yourbff: girl get off that phone! I am SICKENED by the last photo

ynuser: god forbid a girl have hobbies

yourbff: you right. my bad ms pillow princess

lance_stroll: hheheeh you're so pretty

ynuser: eheheh no you

lance_stroll: i can hear you giggling from the bathroom

ynuser: you caught me

lance_stroll: get back out here

ynuser: yes sir

chloestroll: looks like you guys had a good night.. not sure i needed to see that last photo tho

ynuser: the best night!!! had to make sure to properly celebrate a great start to the season! and yeah sorry pls look scroll away and pretend you didnt see it

chloestroll: hahaaha well i hope next time scotty and i are there with you guys to celebrate together!

ynuser: ugh yes i hope so too 🤍🤍

flavy.barla: petite fille!!!! ohhh thank you for letting este and i tag along this evening i had a blast

ynuser: you are literally always allowed to tag along my love. i seriously am obsessed with you

flavy.barla: feeling is mutual. lets run away together

ynuser: done

lilymhe: petition for us to party after every race together pls you are literally the most fun

ynuser: omg stop YOU are the most fun! but yes ofc lets hang out and do everything together plssssss

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thank you sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[harmonyofthesea]

LADS MEN with an autistic s/o!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

xavier, zayne, rafayel & sylus

Suprisingly knows a lot about it! Goes as far as to be aware of the whole ‘masking’ process.

Generally speaking, he’s a free weighted blanket. Will go out of his way to make sure he’s wearing clothing without that texture when cuddling. 

His whole home is pretty much an autism safe space already. No overhead lighting. Everywhere is soft and quiet. 

Not being the most expressive man out there, he definitely empathises and understands if you do the same thing. Especially if going nonverbal/are overwhelmed. Will print out a bunch of those communication cards, might even use some of them himself.

Sometimes is taken aback by sudden moments of hyperfocus, silently observing with interest as your attention span for this one thing is seemingly unbreakable.

Personally prefers the straight-to-the-point conversations. 

If you get tired a lot, especially from socialisation, he will definitely encourage nap times after work.

Immediately asks what he can do to support you. As a doctor, he’s very much used to the medical approach and may be more focused on how it negatively impairs your life. Though, he’s quick to change his perspective.

The more he does independent research as well as the input from you, the more he resonates with a lot of the traits. Personally, I see a lot of autistic traits such as social awkwardness, hyperfixations etc. (though important to acknowledge there are social factors as to why he’s so ‘cold’) in him and let’s be real- he’s probably at one point been told by someone he’s autistic. Hadn’t really looked into it until you came along.

Personally I think that Zayne is such a good doctor in the story is because he empathises with his patients on a much deeper level, but isn’t really good at expressing it externally (hence the ‘coldness’)- something which i’ve found through experience seems to correlate with a lot of autistic peoples’ experiences

He probably knows a few good pediatricians, occupational therapists and asks for recommendations regarding accommodations for you. Your experiences also encourage him to bring more awareness to sensory-friendly spaces within the hospital for patients.

Will get butterflies in his stomach listening to you infodump about your latest fixation, noting the way your eyes have that light in them and you speak with such passion about it. 

“Hey, I’M the one who’s artistic!”

Completely misinterprets it at first, but immediately realises his mistake once you repeated yourself. Being in the art space, he’s come across a few artists who had communicated about their experience within their work. Even with his limited knowledge, he’s eager to find out more. Maybe even be an inspiration for another piece. Referring to overstimulation as a tsunami makes him understand it better. Talk to him about autism in fishy terms please.

If there’s a certain texture you like, he’d incorporate it into his pieces upon the pretense of ‘being innovative’ within his art. 

Prepares an allocated room for your sensory accommodations. If you need white noise, the beach waves are just an added bonus. 

If you tend to speak in a blunt/matter-of-fact manner, he finds it very endearing and easier to tease you. Though, it can take him off guard sometimes depending on what you say.

Unconsciously picks up some of your stims. If you flap your hands around as a stim, he WILL call you a fish. Might also ask if you’re doing a mating ritual. Though, only if he’s sure that you’re in a mood for his comments.

Changes some of the ways he communicates to you so it’s more straight-forward/doesn’t rely on social cues.

You had best believe that this man would immediately provide a room in his base specifically catered toward your sensory needs. Essentially, it’s a personalised panic room. Here are the requirements he gave Luke and Kieran to organise:

A/C and Heating are completely adjustable

Dim/Gentle lighting

Couches, Beds, Beanbags

Weighted Blankets, Plushies

Soundproof Panelling

Shelves to store items regarding special interests

ALWAYS HAVE ADDITIONAL SET OF HEADPHONES!

Drawers for fidgets.

The twins, although their lore is quite limited, feel to me like they have ADHD. Otherwise, Sylus has a little bit of knowledge regarding some traits as they often overlap. Nonetheless, he will happily listen and have Mephisto take notes.

Finds the different thinking process a very valuable tool in his field of work. Sometimes you’d pick up on some random detail that not even Mephisto could recognise and he’d just smile to himself.

He empathises a lot with being the target of social outcasting, and if it does occur to you his heart will practically shatter. Resonates with you on a deeper level.

[monster-effer]

Let Him Be Your Guide - Sylus x reader

Summary: Head canon involving what kind of partner Sylus would be with a headempty!reader. Content/Warnings: MDNI, reader is not MC, f!reader and Sylus are dating, fluff, smut, fingering (587 wc) A/N: I randomly started thinking about Sylus dating a reader that doesn’t want to think too much, a reader who always has to be “on” in their daily life and wants to be “off” in their downtime. The reader may have a stressful career, or they may struggle with anxiety, executive dysfunction, or depression, which mentally exhausts them. I hope y’all enjoy, let me know what you think <3

In my opinion, Sylus would be the perfect partner for a headempty!reader because he would make them feel secure and taken care of. No one would dare fuck with the fearsome Onychinus leader. And even if they try, he will swiftly make them regret it with his evol. So by extension, no one will fuck with you either.

If you want to go shopping, Sylus will take you on his motorcycle. He would make sure that you are dressed head to toe in riding gear that he ordered custom made. All you need to do is to hold onto his tapered waist and enjoy the warmth radiating from his body.

Sylus will choose which stores you visit on your shopping trip. He will cradle your hand in his own as he guides you to your destinations. He will handle interacting with the store employees, ask them any questions you may have, and give his opinion on the clothes, shoes, and accessories you show interest in. And of course, he will pay for anything you decide you want. When you are tired of being out in public, he will have your purchases whisked away to his home by Luke and Kieran and drive you back on his motorcycle.

Sylus’ care does not stop when you’re alone together. If you’re feeling needy, Sylus will cater to your every whim. He is always eager to pleasure you because it is yet another opportunity to provide for you and it turns him on.

One of Sylus’ favorite ways to make you see stars is by finger fucking you. And your sole responsibility is to lay back on his bed and let him have his way with you. He warms you up by stroking your mound through your underwear until you soak them. He loves to work you up before slipping your underwear to the side and sinking his fingers deep inside of you while using his thumb to rub hard circles on your clit.

Sylus never tires of feeling your juicy pussy quake around his long, slender fingers. He savors every gasp of pleasure that leaves your mouth. His eyes are glued to your form as he watches you try to jerk away from the overwhelming pressure building within your core.

Sylus also can’t help but whisper sweet praise into your ear as he brings you to your breaking point multiple times over. Nothing is more rewarding to him than leaving you boneless and in a daze.

Sylus never forgets aftercare. He peppers your flushed face with kisses before walking to his bathroom to run you a warm bath. The cupboard in his bathroom is always stocked with your favorite bubble bath scents and pounds of Epsom salt to release any tension left in your muscles.

While you are soaking in the tub Sylus has his personal chef prepare a meal you will enjoy together. No input is needed from you because Sylus is knowledgeable on what type of meals you enjoy the most. The attention he pays to your preferences, wants and needs leave you feeling loved and cherished. You never have to be “on” or lift a finger when you’re with him. You can let yourself be the attendee and not the planner, and for that, you are eternally grateful.

In my opinion, Sylus would be the perfect partner for a reader who wants someone else to take the reins, for a reader that struggles with anxiety, executive dysfunction, or depression.

Perhaps…he would be perfect for someone like you?

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING HOSHI INCLUDES…. — sfw

• if he ever suspects you or figures out that you’re the mafia whenever y’all play, he would NEVER expose you. he would in fact protect you WITH HIS LIFE. this says a lot about how much he loves you because hoshi would never back down during mafia ever. (poor mingyu :/ he really was innocent all this time.)

• you would probably be the only person capable of successfully dragging him out of the dance studio.

• he would let you squish his cheeks whenever you want (especially when you’re having a bad day.)

• as surprising as it sounds, when y’all are alone, he’s the calm bf and you’re the hyper gf.

• he will NEVER dull your sparkle no matter how bad of a day he’s having.

• when he loves, he loves with EVERYTHING in him.

• dates with him would never be boring. he mainly plans the adventurous ones, choosing to do something like a water park or hiking instead. (he would definitely give you a piggy back ride if you get tired.)

• if he makes a promise with you, he would rather walk through hell barefoot than break it no matter the circumstance. he’s such a dependable lover and always comes through.

• he turns into the softest person whenever you’re having a bad day. he would start talking in a low voice, give you space if needed, but also make sure you’re never suffering alone. your struggles are his and he always lets you know that.

• he’s fine with driving you around everywhere, but be prepared cause he is a super speeder for sure (i know we’ve all seen that one episode of going seventeen.)

• y’all definitely have random dance parties from time to time, especially when y’all are home alone and drinking.

• also, he’s DEFINITELY the type of person who would pull you out of the house to dance under the stars or in the pouring rain. SO ROMANTIC AND CUTESY :’)

• he once ended up winning a tiger plushie for you at the fair before y'all even started dating, and you still have it to this day.

• y'all are for sure dressing up as tigers one year for halloween, he insists.

• he enjoys teaching you dances and always lets you watch as he choreographs. hoshi is constantly wanting your input and praise when he does so.

• he’s oblivious to everything besides when it comes to you.

• he has the habit of hogging the blanket at night. definitely looks like a kicked puppy when you shake him awake to yell at him. he truly doesn’t mean to, it just happens.

• he flaunts you with no fear or shame all over his social media. he dngaf about haters, at the end of the day it’s you that he plans to spend the rest of his life with not them.

• be prepared because he would constantly litter kisses ALL OVER your face no matter the time of day.

• if he had to chose between you or kimchi, he would pick you. that’s saying a lot.

• he will forever be your number one supporter. he is always encouraging you and hyping you up despite what situation you’re in.

• he genuinely thinks you’re the absolute cutest !

• he tells you anything and everything, even if it has nothing to do with him. you definitely know all the practice room secrets.

• if you whip out the government name, he would look at you like a deer in the headlights. don’t scare him like that.

• no matter how bad you are at singing, he would always reassure you that it sounds like music to his ears.

• the pantry would always be stocked with frosted flakes. not because he likes the cereal, but rather just because of the tiger on the box.

• he is always taking random pictures of you, it consists of ninety percent of his camera roll. he REFUSES to delete them.

• he’s speaks of you so fondly and definitely might bring you up in every conversation with people absentmindedly. he loves and admires you so incredibly much.

• he used to tickle you often. he stopped when you accidentally elbowed him in the nose one time and made him bleed.

• if you’re allowed to squish his cheeks, then you have to allow him to boop your nose. it’s an eye for an eye.

• whenever you two argue, it’s rare in which it’s serious. it’s mostly just playful little banters here and there.

• if the arguments are ever serious, it plays in his mind a lot. hoshi treats your heart as if it’s made of glass and the last thing he ever wants to do is make you sad or worse, cry.

• he voices his love like shakespeare to you whenever he’s drunk. hoshi most def becomes a giggly, nervous mess whenever you’re around.

• you know how it’s normally the gf that turns their brain off whenever they’re around their boyfriend? yeah, it’s the opposite way around for you two.

• eye of the tiger would be on full BLAST throughout all hours of the day, he claims it’s his favorite song.

[earthsparked]

Although it's not really focused on, I do wonder what the bots would feel like when we touch them (physical affection). Sometimes they're portrayed as being cold to the touch, sometimes they're warm like a computer, but I personally think that Cybertronians are more in-between, just like how humans are—the extremities tend to be cooler than the body itself, although they can still be pretty warm.

For example, Optimus has warm hands, perfect for holding cold humans, but if it's frigid outside? Lay on his chassis, that's where you go to defrost from the cold.

A bot like Ultra Magnus has even warmer hands, a warmer chassis, and woah, even his shoulder pauldrons are warm! I would love to sit on his shoulders, but would I accidentally fall asleep and fall off? Yes. Yes I would.

Smaller bots are the best for cuddling though, even with the size difference. Watching a movie with Bumblebee? Welp, now he's watching a movie with his human, who's fast asleep. He wouldn't mind.

Gah, physical affection with the bots (any bot) is my favorite! Let me hug them!

Oh you've hit on one of the things I can't quite decide (in a good way!)

You're so right. If I had a mech friend, I'd be all over them. Cat on a warm car hood. Chilling on their knee. Sprawled over their shoulder.

What I can't quite decide is, I go back and forth on how a mechanical being would register physical touch. It seems intuitive that they'd have to have some sensory input from their exterior. To what degree can they feel their armor, though? And does touch, for them, tie into emotion and pleasure the way it does for us? It's hard to even consider what it might mean if it didn't.

You're very right that this isn't really focused on much. I think one of the biggest differences between humans and Cybertronians, and yet one of the most unexplored, is that they can in all likelihood turn off their physical pain. At least to some degree. They can probably alter their sensory capacities to a much, much greater extent than we can. What's life like when you can decide how much or how little you want to feel? And how is that sensation processed?

In humans, there's a rare condition of being unable to feel pain and it's considered extremely dangerous. Because pain is a warning that something is wrong. If you can't feel pain, how do you know you've broken your ankle? You could just keep walking on it, doing more and more structural damage, until you've become permanently injured. Being able to turn your pain on and off, while something I'd be very envious of, would make us so, so fundamentally different as a species. It would change our medical field, our wars, our laws, our relationships, our art.

Touch is such an inherent part of any kind of close relationship for us. We're born with a need for it. Babies literally die without it. Of course we'd want to touch our new friends. To bond with them, to feel close to them, for reassurance and mutual enjoyment of their presence. Doubtless we could and would do that.

But would they view touch the same way? Would they need it? I know we see mechs hugging and touching, but..they're metal. That's kind of a lot of clanging. What sensation would they get out of it? What use would it have for them? What role would touch have played in their development – when they're not really a species that evolved, at all?

I know I go back to this a lot, but Therrae's Xenoethnography really was formative to me in a number of ways, and the mechs there just don't use touch, natively, in the way humans do. And they have to adapt to our ways, even as the human main character tries to adapt to theirs. That would include finding ways to bridge that gap and really communicate what we're trying to communicate in ways that make sense to us both, when we're trying to be physically close or vulnerable to foster those emotional bonds.

The real challenge, and the real crux of it all, is that. That we're both willing to try, to take risks. It takes courage to look at a being you're so different from, and be willing to climb in their hand or sit on their shoulder. It takes courage to engage in whatever alien means of physical communication they would use. It's also what's so beautiful about first contact. Not the failures, or the misunderstandings, or the differences, but the willingness to try and keep trying to build a third language we can both speak.

And then, to use that third language to say I love you, I trust you, I want to be with you.

[thethronezone]

Just read your negative parenting trait primarch list, and it's sad how accurate I believe it is. So, to balance things out (and if you're interested), I'd like to ask:

What are the most positive parenting traits of each primarch?

Mortarion - Fosters independence. Sure, if his kid needs help then Mortarion makes sure they get it but he also makes sure that they watch and learn so that they can do it themself next time. He wants them to be able to take care of themself, to not just depend on others.

Fulgrim - Loves sharing experiences with his child and bringing them different places. Theaters, galas, museums, gardens, forests and whatever he thinks might interest them. To Fulgrim, it's important that his child experiences all the world has to offer and to become a cultured person.

Angron - Teaches his kid to take no shit and to stand up for themself, no matter what. He tells them from an early age that it's never wrong to stand up for yourself and to fight for what you believe in. Also teaches them that to get somewhere in life, you've got to work for it.

Magnus - Can listen to his child rant for hours. Seriously, if his child has a special interest and randomly decides to info dump on him, then Magnus will listen with rapt attention and even ask follow up questions or for clarification. Genuinely finds it interesting.

Perturabo - All Primarchs have perfect memories but Perturabo makes a subconscious effort to really remember everything about his kid. Their likes, dislikes, people they know, where they've been, what they've told him etc.. He always keeps this in mind and as such, he knows his kid pretty darn well.

Alpharius - This kid grows up knowing how to plan for stuff and how to prepare other alternatives/options in case things go wrong. They going somewhere? They know exactly what to pack. Planning an activity. Great, here's the exact date, time and location.

Lorgar - Super devoted father who's always ready, and willing, to put his kid above all else. Will put everything else aside for his child, to be there for them. But that doesn't mean he spoils them rotten. In fact, Lorgar makes it a point to raise them into a modest and well-behaved child.

Horus - The best at making them laugh. He somehow always knows what to say to bring a smile to their face and turn even the biggest frowns upside down. Be it with a joke or bringing them some place where they can just relax and have fun, Horus knows how to bring them joy.

Konrad - Actually really good at comforting his kid and calming them down when they feel upset. He talks to them on their level and he sympathizes with them, validating their feelings while at the same time talking about them in a way that doesn't escalate the situation.

Sanguinius - Undying love. No matter what his child does, even if they turned traitor and plunged a knife into his neck, Sanguinius would never stop loving them. He could never bring himself to hate them. He could feel sad or disappointed by their choices, but hate? Never. Forever and always, until all the stars burn out, he will always love them.

Corvus - While Corvus is not particularly talkative, when him and his kid do talk these conversations are deep and very fulfilling. Corvus also talks to his kid on a very genuine level where he makes it clear that he values their input and opinions.

Ferrus - He encourages free thinking and for his child to find their own solutions. He doesn't want them to be a perfect little soldier that follows his every word like gospel and who's incapable of thinking for themself. Ferrus wants to see them think, analyze and come to conclusions based not just on what others tell them but also what they feel is right.

Rogal - When his kid has a question, he answers that question, each and every time. It's never "It just is" or "Because I said so". No, Rogal explains his reasoning because he feels like it is their right to know. He would never leave them in the dark or purposefully confuse/mislead them. Honesty is his biggest strength.

Vulkan - Loves spending time with his kid! Loves being a parent and being involved and active in their development. Genuinely always looks forward to seeing them and loves to hear what they have to say. Also gives the best hugs.

Lion - Fiercely protective. Lion might not show it, might even appear uncaring at times, but the moment his child is in danger? It's like the beast within him awakens as pure animal instincts pushes him to act before even his superhuman mind has time to think.

Leman - Knows when to be fun, goofy dad and when to be serious. He can tell when his kid needs to have a real talk, when the situation gets real and there's no time for jokes. But he also knows just when to have fun with it, how to enjoy being a father.

Jaghatai - The Khan's kid can tell him anything and they know him. He might get disappointed or even upset but he would never let it cloud his judgement or overwhelm his rational thinking. He's reliable, especially when his child needs some good advice.

Roboute - Problem solver nr 1 over here. If his child has a problem and needs a solution or just some advice on how to best handle a situation, Roboute can provide all the answers. Sure, his solutions might be very logic-driven and not always account for the emotional aspect but they tend to work out pretty well.

[jjkilll]

-—✫UNTIL THE END OF TIME | JJK✫—-

warning: this is completely fictional. this story details personal injuries infilicted upon a main charater. reader discretion is advised. please read all warnings before proceeding. 18+

— pairing | ex-fiancé/idol jungkook x y/n

— summary | six months after you two broke up, you realized life's too short to not hold each other until the end of time.

—  warning | personal injury (car accident), mentions of blood and surgery, a coma brought on by personal injury, mentions and the planning of marriage, pwp (big time), smut, reader giving jk a handjob, cum eating(?), spit(?), ass slapping (jk can't control himself)

— word count | 3.9K

— song | until the end of time - justin timberlake (this is gonna ruin the tour)

— a/n: flashback in bold, enjoy!!

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

your phone rings waking you quickly. you at up answering your phone. “i’m sorry to wake you, is this y/n l/n?” a man asks through the phone. “yes, is there something wrong?” you ask eyes barely open.

“unfortunately, yes. i’m dr. hill, your fiancée has been in an accident. will you come down and provide some extra information for me?” he asks sincerely.

“what?! is he okay? is he awake?” you sit up. “um, i think it’s best if i share this news in person.” your heart drops.

you stand quickly throwing on some clothes. “i’m coming. i’m on the way.”

you and jungkook had been broken up for six months. you broke off your engagement. he really didn’t want you to go.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you asked him to go with you to ask your friend to be in your wedding. you planned a lunch and jungkook never showed. you watched the clock tick and the time pass and nothing but radio silence. you tuck the handwritten letters back into your bag.

you got home and jungkook was passed out on the couch. you woke him, “hey go get in bed.” he stands barely awake, and walks into the bedroom flopping down onto your bed.

you walk past him into the bathroom. “where were you?” he mumbles. “lunch with my friends.” you say simply, taking the pins out of your hair.

“until 7 pm on a thursday? what for?” he asks. you sigh continuing to take your hair down from its high ponytail style. you don’t say anything until he groans lifting himself on the bed walking over to the bathroom door and standing in the frame. “what's wrong?” he asks you cluelessly which angers you. “nothing.” you say very monotone.

“you’re mad. why are you mad?” you don’t say anything and continue looking at yourself in the mirror. “i’m not.” you say simply. “ you aren’t even looking at me.” he grabs at your waist and you pull away. “stop.” you say moving away. “can you just tell me what’s wrong? i’m too tired for this shit.” he spits and that’s your final straw. you we so upset with him, that you didn't say anything at first trying to make sure you didn't say anything you didn't mean.

“today was the day we were supposed to ask my friends to be in the wedding and you didn’t even show. i sat there like a dumbass checking the clock hoping you’d show up. you didn’t. you didn’t even call. so yea, it’s very fucking clear that you’re too tired for this shit.” you motion back and forth between the two of you.

“you know damn well that’s not what i meant. i’m sorry babe, things just got so hectic today,” he explains.

“then a text would have eased my mind,” you spoke.

“i was busy, baby. what do you want me to say? you know what i do prepping for a comeback isn't easy.”

“whatever jungkook.” you dismiss him not trying to get more upset.

“did they all say yes?” he asked sitting on the edge of the tub. “i didn’t give them the letters.” you say simply. “why not?” he asks. “because i need more time.” he raises his brow. “for?” he presses.

“to think. see if this is something i even need to do.” you spit.

“what does that mean?” he asks standing up beside you. “jungkook, you haven’t put your input in. you haven’t seen the venue. you don’t care about the colors and you can’t even show up to a fucking lunch. yes, i know how hard it is to prep for a comeback, but planning a wedding by yourself is bullshit. we haven’t had sex in four weeks. you don’t want this relationship as bad as i do.” you explained.

“i want you more than anything.” he says. “then you’d make time! you'd act like it! i don’t ask for weekly dinners, and i don’t complain when you get home at 3 am and leave at 6 am. but, this is different. this is our marriage. i can’t help but think this is what our marriage will be. i’ll just keep waiting on you to find a balance for this shit, the whole world gets everything you got and i just get your last name. i sit at home and watch you create a life without me. that’s why i need to think jungkook.” you finally turn and look at him.

your eyes brimming with tears. “baby, i’ll figure it out i promise. it won’t be like this forever.” you shake your head as your tears fall. “you don’t know that. you know know your job is ever changing. i love you, i do, and i know how much your job means to you. i would never ask you to choose me over your job, but i make time for you even in my schedule. i’m a personal assistant for an idol. I’m gone just as much as you are.” you explain tears choking you up. he pulls you close and you sob in his arms. “what's wrong with me? why can't you make time for me?”

you take a deep breath, “i can’t do this anymore.” you realize he’s crying too. “don’t say that. please don’t say that.” he begs. “i’m sorry jungkook.” you back away from him. you hate how quick he is to let you go. you twist the beautiful ring jungkook gave you months ago, off your finger. you place the ring in his palm. “please,” he looks down at you. “i’m sorry.” you say walking back into your bedroom. you walk into your closet grab clothes and shove them into a duffle. “you don’t have to go tonight. just stay.” he pleads.

“i’m sorry, baby, please. please don't leave.” he cries. you move faster sobbing, you hated hearing him cry. your chest is heavy, as you cry so hard it’s hard to breathe. he walks into the closet and hugs you tight. “please don’t leave me. i don’t want to be alone tonight. please if you want to leave i have to be okay with letting you go, but i want you, i need you to know that I'm not giving up on us. just one more night. stay with me one more night, let me know you're not giving up on me.” you cry. you want to fall apart. “okay.” you say. he hugs you and doesn’t let go. he holds you so tight and so sure. his hands are shaking as he pulls you in. you get this feeling in your gut, you need space and so does he. one night only.

he finally lets go and holds your hand. you strip yourselves of your clothes and lay in bed holding each other, both of you praying this wasn’t the last time you'd hold each other so close.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you arrive at the hospital. “jeon jungkook.” you speak to the front desk clerk. “relationship?” she asks. “umm, he’s my-my fiance.” she types quickly as you flash your id. “room 613,” she says.

you speed to the elevator taking it up to the sixth four. you look around the floor and run up to the door. you look through the small cut-out of glass. he’s just lying there, an oxygen mask on his face. tears start to pour from your eyes.

“oh my god” you back up starting to panic. “ma’am?” a doctor calls. you turn. “i’m doctor hill. are you his fiancee?” you nod. “yes, please tell me what happened.” you beg. “unfortunately, he was on the expressway southbound, and it seems that he lost control of his motorcycle, he ran into the back of a semi. he’s helmet saved him from any brain damage, but he is having a hard time breathing on his own as he’s punctured his left lung. he hasn’t woken up since we put him under anesthesia, the surgery was a success.” he explains looking at the file in his hands.

“he’s in a coma?” you ask. he nods sincerely. “he is alive and stable, but we aren’t sure when he will come out the the coma, it could be days, maybe months.” you began to sob. “i’m so sorry.” your soul is fading, it was hard to believe. you walk back up to the glass. you stare at him and curse yourself for ever leaving his side. you open the door and walk up to him. you just look at him, and tears fall. he has a black eye and some stitches about his eyebrow.

“i’m so sorry, baby.” you sob quietly. you hold his hand and sob harder when he doesn’t do the double squeeze he’d usually do. you kiss his cheek. “i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be right here i promise.” walk to the other side lay down your purse in the chair and push it to his bedside. you sit laying your head beside him. you gripped his hand and held it tightly.

you didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until a nurse awakes you. “i’m sorry, here’s his belongings.” she hands you a clear bag with jungkook’s stuff inside. grab the back sitting up and opening it. his jacket was covered in blood, which made your eyes brim. his wallet you noticed something poking out of it. you pulled out a small polaroid of you and him on your first date. you wore disguises and went to six flags. you’d ask another couple to take the photo after you got off the batman ride. you smile reminiscing about how much fun you both had that day.

at the bottom of the bag is a chain with a ring on it, your ring. it was covered in blood as well. you sob, the nurse turns after checking on jungkook. “i’m so sorry ma’am. is there anything i can do for you. are you hungry? coffee?” you shake your head thanking her anyway before she leaves.

you undo the chain sliding your ring off. you hold it up walking over to the sink, washing and drying it, your tears still falling. you slide the ring onto your finger, holding it close to your chest. you walk over to your chair sitting and laying next to him again. “please wake up. please.” you beg.

you wish you never left his side. this was your fault, you thought to yourself. somehow, some way you had a feeling you could've stopped this.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

it had been three weeks since the accident. you were at the hospital every day since. you called your mom to pack a bag for you with everything you needed. your boss a friend of jungkook’s understood, telling you to take how long it took for jungkook to get better.

“good morning aundra.” you speak to the nurse you have grown closer with since being there. “morning darling!” she says cutely. “i’m happy to see you in a better mood today.” she speaks. “yea dr. hill says jungkook can breathe on his own. he’s getting stronger.” you explain. “i know. you’ve got a trooper on your hands for sure.” she smiles.

a few hours later you’re on facetime with the boys telling them how much jungkook has been progressing since they saw him the first time. they sigh a sigh of relief. “he’s so strong guy. we know he’ll be back and kicking as soon as he wakes up. you nod, telling them you were going to try to sleep before the next nurse came to check on him telling them you’d talk to them later.

you lay your head on his lap looking at him. “my pretty boy. you’re so strong. you know i never understood this part of you. you take on so much and come back so strong. you are otherworldly, baby.” you kiss his hand and stand going to nap on the bench across the room. you lay down slowly drifting to sleep.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you wake to some talking. “how long has she been here?” you hear a low familiar voice. “3 weeks. every day since the accident. this is the longest she’s slept.” you hear a female voice. you turn your eyes fluttering open. you see jungkook sitting up stuffing his mouth with food.

“jungkook!” you scream running over to him hugging him tightly and he groans. “oh im sorry! you’re just you’re awake. my god youre awake. i’m so fucking happy youre okay. jesus please you scared me half to death.” you hug him sobbing. he hold you tight. he swallows his mouthful of food. “hi baby, im sorry im just so hungry.” you giggle looking at him and pecking his lips.

“you were here this whole time?” he asks. you nod. “everyday, 24/7.” you smile. “thank you. i love you.” he looks at you pecking your lips again. he hold both your hands feeling your ring on your finger his eyes shoot down. “you put your ring back on?” you hum. “yeah… i did. i should’ve never taken it off.” he smiles.

“where were you even going?” you ask him, now you must know. he bites his sandwich and swallows before speaking, “your house. i had taken two weeks off of work, i wanted to show you i was serious. i talked to my manager, and he told me, that if i start doubling down every other day it’d speed things up for us, meaning more free time. more time for us.” you smile at him your eyes spilling with tears. he was on his way to you. you were happy he was thinking of you just as much as you were thinking of him. unfortunately, though you can't help but feel like this was your fault. you shake the thought as he grabs your hand, you interlock fingers.

“i love you so fucking much. so so fucking much jungkook.” he kisses your cheek. “i love you more baby.” he says biting his sandwich. “i heard hospital food sucks, and this could just be because i haven’t eaten in three weeks, but this sandwich is fucking amazing.” you giggle.

“oh i have to call the boys.” you speak wiping away your tears. “i talked to them earlier.” jungkook says. “how long have you been up?” you ask raising your brow. “45 minutes or so, i just didn't want to wake you. the nurse said you had barely been sleeping,” he said.

“duh! my fiancé was unconscious in a hospital bed. if someone sleeps peacefully during that, lock them up and throw away the key.” you state. he chuckles lightly.

“i like when you call me that. it feels good to hear that again.”

“what fiancé?” you ask. he nodded cutely.

“so what are the colors?” he asks all of a sudden. “colors of what?” you ask. “for the wedding. what were you thinking?” you smile and sit beside him. you quickly pull up your pinterest board showing him all your ideas. he didn’t show it but knowing you kept them, comforted him.

“white arch? it’ll clash with your dress.” he points out. “oh. oh my god, you're right! we could do green, maybe like ivy leaves?” you suggest. “i think that’ll be immaculate with my grey suit, too. yea, it’ll look amazing.” he adds.

“you already did so good without me baby.” he says. “but it’s clear that i need you. i would’ve been crying for days about that fucking arch.” he chuckles. “i’m still so stuck on flowers.” you pout. “well dr. hill says i have six weeks to recover before i can’t start schedules again. we have time.” he says. you kiss his cheek fluffing his hair.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

for the first time in six months, you walk into your shared apartment. your pictures still hanging on the wall, everything exactly where you left it.

you lay in bed next to him. he wraps his arm around you pulling you in. he kisses the top of your head. “the bed was so cold without you.” he whispers. “i’m never going anywhere ever again.” you peck his lips.

“i need you. i haven’t gotten a good rest in ages, my sleep paralysis started to act up again. just laying in the hospital room with you i slept more than i have in the last six months.” you say. “you just make me breathe better.” you express.

he pouts it hurts him to hear how badly you were struggling. “i was suffocating without you. i love my job but coming home to you made me feel like i won the lottery. i didn’t realize how much i had won until i lost it. i will not fuck it up this time. winning the lottery once is just luck, but twice is a sign.” you giggle rubbing your nose along his.

“i missed you so much, baby.” he says. “trust me i missed you more.” you reply. “impossible.” he whispers before kissing you deeply. you hum into the kiss, the way he kissed you makes your body tingle. you nervously bury your face into his chest. “you are so cute, why so shy? it’s just me.” he smiles. “you just got that effect on me. you make me feel like a teenager, kicking my feet and daydreaming and shit.” you mumble into his chest, he giggles brightly.

“kiss me again,” you say looking up at him. he obeys quickly kissing your lips. jungkook never found the idea of sucking someone’s tongue until he met you. the way you kiss him had a tent quickly growing in his pants.

he hums. “i’m so hard for you right now.” he states pecking your lips. you lightly push him away tutting. “no physical activity for you sir. dr. hill told me it’s imperative that don’t do anything that requires too much physical activity, for your lungs. so no sex right now.” you explain. “what?! come on. i haven’t felt you in months. now i have to wait even longer?” you nod and he groans throwing his head back in frustration. suddenly an idea pops into your head.

“what if…” he hums letting you know he's listening, “ i give you a handjob?” you whisper. “be serious, babe. don’t tease me.” he whines in his last sentence.

you giggle sliding your hands down his sweats. you stroke him slowly. you quickly look up at his licking your fingers before swirling them on his tip. “oh shit. that feels good.” you continue stroking him at a steady pace. “fuck” he mutters. “i wasn’t trying to cum this soon.” he chuckles nervously. “it’s okay baby. give me your cum. i want it so bad” you say teasingly.

he moans biting his lip. you stroke him faster, “just like like that, ohh shit.” you groan. you stroke him just how he likes. he kisses you deeply as you stroke him. “you are so fucking hot.” he whispers. you kiss him again lightly tugging on his bottom lip. “i’m cumming.” he mumbles moaning as he shoots his thick load onto your hand and in his pants. you slide your hand out covered in him. you look at him licking his cum off your knuckles. he looks at you in awe. “mm” you hum lightly flashing him a smile.

“i just want pick you up and fuck you.” you giggle at his bluntness. “jungkook.” you laugh. “what? the way you were just looking at me when you licked your fingers, you know if i was in full health right now i would be fucking you so good.” you smile pecking his slips. “one week.” you said simply. “that’s how long dr. hill said.” you explain. he looks at you, “you think it’s possible to sleep for a week?” you pinch his nose with your fingers. “yea you were sleep for three. no more sleeping for you sir.” he giggles.

“let’s shower.” you say patting his cheek. “oh definitely, you just made me cum in my pants.” he starts to move but you stop him.

“i’m sorry.” you say for the millionth time. “for what?” he questions. “for not believing in you when you said you'd figure it you. i should’ve,” you say simply. you hold back the tears that are making your throat close up.

“look, i know things were difficult, but i knew that night when you stayed, you weren’t giving up on me. on us,” he corrects. “ you stayed by my side for three weeks. you brushed my hair, you talked to me, you gave me a sponge bath. you always believed in me. this accident was not your fault, i need to understand that.” you pout your eyes threatening to spill.

“nuh-uh, no more tears. it’s only up from here, my love.” you hold his close. his thumb wipes away your tears that fall. “now let’s get in the shower.” he pats your butt before moving and standing up quickly. he groans leaning back onto the bed. “woah, take it easy, baby.” he huffs. “i’m not used to be this slow.” he chuckles.

“in all due time. trust me next week you’ll feel much better,” you explain. he nods as you help him stand. “i got you, babe.” he groans standing. you walk into the bathroom and he leans against the sink. you help him take off his shirt as his shoulder is in pain. “you’d look so hot in scrubs.” he says admiring you as you help him.

“oh hush.” you giggle. you help him take of his pants, his semi hard cock spring out. you look up at him. “what?” he whines. “you’re still hard?” you tease. “yes! i just thought about how you look naked.” he spoke. you laugh. you lift your shirt off and undo your bra and your tits bounce out.

“see? and you expect me not to be hard right now?” you giggle turning around and turning the shower on. “okay you first.” he steps in letting the hot water hit his skin. “hurry up.” he rushes you. “have some patience,” you say raising your brown jokingly. you slip off your shorts and step in. your back faces jungkook as you reach for your shampoo, and suddenly a slap hits your ass. you stand quickly. “jungkook.” you warn.

“what? come on. your ass was on full display, it was the urges inside me.” you chuckle. “that wasn’t me, i didn’t want to slap your ass, but the parasites in me wanted to slap your ass.” you laugh loudly. “shut up!” you chide jokingly.

you apply soap onto a washcloth, and start washing his chest. “i wanna get married tomorrow.” he says suddenly. “what?!” you almost yell. you look at him in disbelief. “i don’t even have a dress.” you explain. “then let’s go thrift one. i realized that life is too short, and in this lifetime i need you to be my wife.” you smile, but you don’t say anything. “what if… we get married tomorrow, and we still have a wedding. we can still do it big, when we actually get married it’s just us. me and you like i will be forever.” you suggest. you smile at him. “okay.” you say. “okay like you're just doing it for me or you love the idea?” you chuckle as you realize his small panic. “i love the idea. just me and you.” you say.

“forever,” he adds.

“and ever, until the end of time.” you grin, finally everything feels good. you stand in front of your soon-to-be husband, excited for what the future holds.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

[ooooo-mcyt]

what is your opinion on people who are always like "omg it's us, but it's desertduo" as in they're happy thing think their relationship is like desertrduo

cause when I see that, I laugh, because desertduo in my eyes is doomed to fail. one of the single most important things in a relationship is communication

which is the thing they do not have, and are worst at.

communication.

i think this is a thing I have noticed in shinyduo as well. they both are bad at communicating.

To me I think the biggest problem between Scar and Grian will always be their differing ways of showing affection and their struggles to understand/communicate with each other about this difference.

Grian struggles with verbally showing he cares, so he'll often express his love through actions. Grian will make other people his responsibility and will work and work and work tirelessly for those people. The problem with this, though, is twofold.

The first problem is that Grian can come across as overbearing, giving people the impression he's nagging or undervaluing them because he doesn't verbalize his concern or affection. Grian can take care of Scar all day, but when all Scar hears are complaints, he'll feel like Grian doesn't care. Grian struggles with verbally affirming his care for other people, but sometimes it's needed, and it damages his relationships that he often can't do that.

The second problem is that Grian builds underlying resentment for the fact that people rarely seem to appreciate how much he does for them. He isn't completely wrong to feel this way, because, frankly, I do wish people would pay more attention to his caretaking behavior. But Grian actively sabotages himself as well by never communicating that he feels unappreciated in a productive way.

Plus, because of his self imposed caretaker role, Grian will often make unilateral decisions for a team without minding his partners input, which leads to a further lack of trust from both sides of the relationship.

Scar, on the other hand, usually expresses his affection and care upfront. He's friendly, approachable, he won't hesitate to tell people he loves them, or say what someone means to him. Scar is good at making people feel good and affirming his affection for them.

That being said, his affection can come across as "shallow" at times. Scar is often very bad at picking up on, let alone fulfilling, the needs of his partner. While Grian absolutely needs to work on communicating what he wants from Scar, that doesn't take away from the fact that Scar very much should be putting an effort into making sure Grian feels like the labor in their relationship is equal when they team, because generally it's not.

Scar is a very verbal person, he's upfront with his own feelings most of the time, so he also expects to be told when his partner needs something, not just emotionally, but also with tasks that need to get done). Which is understandable, but frankly, genuinely shouldn't be Grian's responsibility half as often as it is.

Scar isn't off the hook for selfish decision making either, because he will often struggle to see other people's viewpoints or understand that not everyone feels the same way he does about certain things, which can lead to him talking over or ignoring his partners wishes when he thinks he knows what's best for them.

Desert Duo have a lot of problems with how they express affection and communicate their needs.

However. Do I think they're inherently doomed? No.

Firstly, I think it largely depends on the setting. The gaps in their understanding of each other or how to be good partners to one another are widened by the life or death high stakes fast pace of the Life Series, but are bridged much more easily within the slow comfy safety of Hermitcraft. It's easy to look at their worst moments and say, there, that's why they can't work- but people don't have to be defined by their worst moments, and everyone's flaws look so much bigger when held under the lens of a death game. I think it's just as important to look at how Scar and Grian are when they're in a healthy setting as it is to look at them when they're in the most high stakes setting you can put two people into.

Plus, it's worth noting that a positive peaceful place like Hermitcraft isn't the only place they can work.

Sure, Scar and Grian absolutely had issues in Third Life, but I think it means something that they both made it to the end. That they got their fair fight. That they did it in their home. Giggling. Apologizing. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs- and their "doom" didn't come from themselves, it came from an outside force. An outside force made them destroy themselves, and they did it in the kindest way they could, loving each other all the way down.

That isn't to minimize their issues, because they both have issues. They both hurt each other, and sometimes neither of them know how to stitch it back together. But they try, right? Sometimes their relationship is like stitching up a quilt. And it comes out kinda uneven and slightly off-color, but it's still nice enough to look at, and warm enough to keep them cozy at night, and they both like it so so much.

Scar and Grian get each other, they counteract each others worst insecurities and fears, they gravitate toward each other, they make each other laugh, they just plain like each other. That may not sound like much sometimes, but it's often enough for them, and I think that's important. I think their relationship is good for them more often than it's bad for them. Even if they don't always know how to reach each other.

[neversetyoufree]

Looking back, I wonder how much of Vanitas's choice in this scene is tied to the fact that he was given a choice in the first place.

So much of Vanitas's character is centered around the theme of self-determination (and the lack thereof). He is absolutely deprived of any control over his body and/or destiny at many of the key points in his life, and nowadays he's always desperately grasping at what few shards of self-determination he does have. This is why he freaks out when Roland talks about him being "under the vampires' power" in mémoire 15. It's why he's hung up on the idea of freedom as isolation from others' influence. It's why his main response to being triggered is to do something crazy and cause a scene; it puts him in control of the situation.

All that to say, when Luna destroys Moreau's lab and agrees to take Misha away, Vanitas must be desperate to feel some form of in-control, but I do not think he expects to be given any choice in what happens to him next. He's been conditioned not to expect that despite how much he wants it.

Vanitas certainly doesn't have much agency in how he lives his life as a child, as no kid gets to pick their parents or circumstances, and Vani has it especially rough with the death of his mother hanging over his head. Then his father dies protecting him, and he dies in a situation in which Vanitas is utterly powerless. Horror erupts into his life out of nowhere, and his dad throws himself in front of some fangs, and there's nothing Vanitas can do but watch it happen.

Next there's Vanitas's brief time training as a chasseur, which is one part of his history we know little about, so it's hard for me to say how free his choice was. He may have been pressured into joining, as we know the Chassuers aren't above pushy/manipulative recruitment of children (Astolfo), but I could also see his choice to hunt vampires made as a trauma response to the powerlessness of the vampire attack he survived. "I was powerless, so I'll claim the power to enact violence and make sure they can't hurt me or others again."

Then Vanitas is abducted by Doctor Moreau, which strips him of his agency just about as awfully as anything possibly could.

Vanitas the test subject has no bodily autonomy. He is poked and prodded and experimented on, because his body is an object of science to Moreau, not the vessel of a person with rights or self-determination. His only big active choices during his captivity are the choice to not run away for fear of somebody else suffering and the choice to volunteer in Mikhail's place. The only choices he can make are the choices to stay and throw himself even deeper into his own violation. Even his relationship with Misha is something that just kind of Happens to him. The kid is a force of nature that Moreau dumps on him without his say.

(This isn't Mikhail's fault, as Misha is just a child that wants affection, but having a needy, vulnerable little brother figure suddenly dropped on him in the midst of all that horror couldn't have made Vanitas feel less out of control).

Then Vanitas's torment by Moreau hits its climax, and Vanitas is told that not only has his body been violated by way of pain and torture—even his basic humanity has been and will be stripped from him. He now feels the disgust of having the blood of something he hates inside of him without his consent. And he's about to be killed, turned into a mindless husk of a "living key" instead of a person.

And that's when Luna shows up. This mysterious, incredibly powerful being appears and wreaks havoc on Moreau's lab like an avenging angel, and it agrees to Mikhail's request to take "us" along with it. Everything in Vanitas's life so far has taught him that he is powerless in the face of others' great power. Horrible shit just keeps happening to him forever, and this monstrous person sounds like they've just agreed to carry him off on Mikhail's request without a word of input from him. Of course he doesn't expect to be given a choice.

But he is.

Luna scoops up Mikhail, then they turn to Vanitas and ask if he would like to come along with them as well. After months or years of absolutely all of his autonomy and power being stripped away from him, the most powerful being Vanitas has ever encountered stops and gives him a choice about what he'd like to do next. They give him the option to go off on his own and decide his own fate rather than go along with them. And that's why Vanitas doesn't run away.

These are the images that flash through Vanitas's head right before he gets up and runs to Luna:

These moments are what inform Vanitas's choice. The memories of his father's death and Moreau's final experiment on him—his two most awful moments of abject helplessness.

When Vanitas runs to Luna and accepts their offer, these moments are what he's running from. He's fleeing from his inability to do anything or control his fate. He's running from a life of stolen agency. He's running toward the one adult who actually stopped and gave him a choice about what he'd like to do next.

Vanitas chooses Luna because they, despite having the power to kill or subdue him, give him the freedom to choose to accompany them in the first place. He's drawn to them not for protection, but as an escape to a life where he gets to keep making choices and grasp some agency.

Luna is the savior that gives Vanitas his freedom and autonomy back after it's stolen by Moreau. That's why it's so tragic that Vanitas carries their Mark in the present day. It's undeniable proof that, in their right mind or not, some version of Luna violated the fundamental trust and gift of autonomy that brought Vanitas into their family in the first place.

Luna's bite, both the physical violation and the transformation into inhumanity that it brings, is yet another way that Vanitas is stripped of all control of his body and fate.

[ovrgrwnivy]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; no yapping today

part one. part two.

you never knew how relaxing it was to lay in the sun, the steady movements of the boat gently rocking you side to side. it was almost as if you hadn't set fire to everything you and john b grew up believing.

john b knew his mom took off when he was a kid, what he didn't know was that she was pregnant when she left. you thought that your dad died and your mom lived in your hometown her entire life.

both of you agreed that, for now at least, this branch of the family tree would be kept from the others until you've had enough time to fully wrap your heads around everything without the added input from everyone else.

"ladies and losers." john b claps, grabbing the attention of everyone on board "with the newest addition to our dysfunctional family," he gestures in your direction earning applause from the group, with the addition of a cheer from jj "the no pouge-on-pouge macking rule is still in full effect, just in case anyone has forgotten."

you don't miss the glare sent in jj's direction, the blond in question, however, was too busy making a face at you to even notice that he was the target of that rule.

it takes everything in you not to laugh, you understand why the rule may have been implemented in the past. young kids making up rules to protect their friendship. but you surely were all old enough and mature enough to handle real adult relationships.

"does our newest recruit partake?" pope asked throwing a can of beer to jj and kiara before looking at you once more.

"are you forgetting she was flat drunk when she went all cat woman on topper?" kiara joked, cracking open her can and raising it to you "to passing your initiation."

"and to beating the shit out of a kook!"

"here here!"

you sit up to bow as the others raise their cans to you, unable to stop the soft laugh that escapes as you sit up again "thank you, thank you. i'd like to thank my agent, my manager,"

john b jokingly shoves your shoulder to shut you up "a little humility wouldn't kill you, you know."

"humility is for losers" you taunt, making your way over to the cooler to see for yourself what was inside "besides, you owe me so humility is redundant."

before you can continue excusing your incoming speech, you're jolted forward by a sudden bump in the boat. you lose your footing, grabbing the closest thing to you and dragging it into the water with you.

person. the closest person to you and dragging them into the water with you.

you were a pretty decent swimmer, decent enough to not drown at least, but when you hit the water, any swimming ability was replaced with dread. truth be told you shouldn't be surprised, not even twenty four hours ago someone did in fact try to drown you so it was only natural you began to panic.

your brain was begging your body to do something, to override your fear with instinct, but no matter what you did all you could do was kick and flail.

you cling to the familiar frame dragging you to the surface, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala clung to a tree. you hid your face in the crook of jj's neck to shield your tears from the group, even if there was a chance you could explain it away as water in your eyes.

"you're okay, baby" jj coos, his hand cradling the back of your head "you're safe, i got you."

"the fuck was that!?" kiara shouts, helping the boys drag you and jj back onto the boat.

pope peers out over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that could be in the water "guys, i think we hit a boat?" he calls out over his shoulder.

almost as if in sync, jj and john b exchanged a knowing look. they knew what it meant, from what you learned so far they've been attached at the hip for years so it wasn't a shock that they had some weird telepathy.

without a word from either of them, they dive off the side of the boat and into the water, undoubtedly to scout out whatever pope had spotted. neither kiara or pope showed much of a reaction, probably because they were used to their antics.

you, on the other hand, sat by the edge of the boat and peered into the murky water below. you were holding your breath, waiting for any sort of sign of life from either of the boys.

time passes agonisingly slowly, but soon enough you spot the unmistakable head of brown hair rising to the surface.

"jackpot, baby!" jj hollers, throwing his arms into the air in celebration "one poor bastard made aggie mad, that's a seriously primo boat."

kiara shrugs "what do those kooks expect, they're harming the environment with their flashy boats, it's karma."

"easy there, greenpeace." john b huffs, pulling himself up and into the boat "mother natures most recent victim could have all sorts of profitable shit inside."

"exibit a," jj announces proudly, producing a silver canister from his pocket "would our newest pledge like to do the honours?"

"i would love to incriminate myself by stealing private property!" you exclaim, sarcasm dripping off of every syllable. nonetheless, you take it from him and shake its contents onto the floor of the boat.

the metallic clang makes everyone wince, the group sighing in disappointment of seeing what was inside.

"wow, greaat, almost died over a lousy compass." jj groans, plopping himself down into a seat.

"it isn't a lousy compass," you mutter, scrambling to retrieve your fathers' compass from your backpack and comparing the two side by side.

they were identical.

"cause that isnt freaky.." pope mumbled, peering over your shoulder.

when you look to john b, he's already looking at you, knowing exactly who this compass used to belong to.

"it's a set," your voice sounds like you have just joined the dots of a brain wracking mystery.

"two compasses, one for each kid."

before anyone can question what exactly john b meant by that, a sharp noise zips past your ear, grazing the top of your arm and scaring the shit out of you.

the five of you look towards the source of the noise, another boat is coming towards the hms pouge, and the two men on board looked far from pleased as they aimed their guns right at the five of you.

"shit, shit!" john b ducks into the drivers seat and hits the gas, jolting all of you backwards as you sped through the marsh "get down!"

you all do as instructed, laying face down on the boats floor, rocking with every sharp, zig-zagged movement john b made. each of you flinch every time a metallic ding rings out against the boat's exterior, you hear kiara humming a tune to keep her mind occupied.

your eyes scan the boat for anything that could help, an idea coming to you the second you spot an old fishing net.

"y/n, what are you doing!? get down!"

you ignore popes shouts, moving quickly to gather up the net and toss it off the back of the boat. as you had hoped, the aggressors' boat gets caught up in the net, allowing john b to get you all out of there without harm.

"you moronic genius!" john b half praises, half scolds, the moment the boat stops at the chateau's dock. grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake "what is with you and almost dying?"

"a thank you wouldn't hurt," you retort, the throbbing sting in your upper arm still as prominent as when it first happened "this poor girl couldn't handle it."

you pat the side of the hms as you climb off, your fellow pouges following behind as you all tiredly drag your feet towards the house.

"looks gnarly," jj remarked, appearing beside you and focusing his gaze on the small wound on your arm "here, lemme help out."

you are very much aware that it's nothing more than a surface wound, barely a graze, yet you allowed jj to lead you over to the hammock and sit you down.

when he headed inside to grab what he needed, you sank into the comfort of the hammock and closed your eyes. the slight breeze, the gentle rocking of the hammock, the warm sun burning down on you. it does a good job of helping you decompress from the insanity that ensued since your arrival.

the hammock shifts under you when jj returns, the extra weight tilting the fabric to bring you closer to him. he doesn't want to speak, to disturb you in your peaceful bubble. he knows he's staring but he can't look away.

"you just got here and you already look like you've been put through the wringer." jj jokes, though there's a clear sense of seriousness underneath.

and he isn't wrong, the bluish bruises staining your throat from toppers hand, and now the blood smeared all over your arm which made it look much worse than it was.

"two near-death experiences will do that,"

"two near-death experiences so far.."

you know he's telling the truth, but you can't help but laugh as he helps you sit up. a comfortable silence falls between you as he wipes around the graze with a cloth, before gently placing a bandaid over the wound.

the close proximity doesn't seem to phase either of you, at least not enough to get anyone to move. without a word, he reclines back into the hammock, an arm out in a silent invitation.

you reason with yourself that it was harmless, john b's 'macking' rule echoing in your ears as you considered your options. realistically speaking, both you and jj knew this was far from harmless but more like the edge of a slippery slope you could both snowball down.

but you were tired, and it was jj, and the others weren't even around to see it.

no harm, no foul, right?

taglist!

@rainingcecilias @gigistalked @loverofmarsss

[everythingspokenfor]

ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʟᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀɪɢᴀᴍɪ.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Baker!Reader

Summary: Nanami-san scoring a date with his baking instructor...

Part 1

Nanami doesn't need to take baking classes, infact he is skilled enough to be teaching here, he is still here tho, learning how to make sourdough bread (another one of his expertise).

He doesn't like going out anymore, Shibuya altered that in him, no longer likes walking around the city searching for best sandwiches.

Shoko had recommended these classes, shoved a pamphlet into his hand, rambling something about not wanting him to rot away in his office. It's a gesture of kindness, he knows she doesn't pity him, that doesn't mean his mind won't make up twisted scenarios.

His face is burnt, the scars following till his fingertips, left eye gouged out leaving behind a shallow socket and a drawer full of patches that the kid's got him.

He doesn't care about his appearance, at least that what he tells himself, tho sometimes it's hard for him to believe. Especially when kids point at him, their parents hurriedly grabbing their arms and apologising.

People displaying pity towards him when they bump into him. The 'I am sorry's' haunting him as he tries to go about his day.

He would have spend the remainder of his life cooped up inside, had his friends not intervened.

That's what led him here, baking classes. He spends his evenings here, a decent size studio where you, teach how to bake. The place is set rather nicely, 6 counters lined, equipped with an oven and a sink, pantry in the back along with a fridge.

You do a great job at teaching, always making sure everyone understood the instructions. He didn't interact with you first, feeling too shy, too intimidated, too ugly, to talk to someone as pretty as you, even if it was under the guise of asking for a recipe.

Nanami wouldn't lie, he did continue with the baking classes because of you, even if he knows the bitter truth, that he isn't someone desirable, he still chose to admire you from afar.

So, he should up to the classes, sharp 4 p.m. daily, picked his apron, always looking over to see what colour you wore so he could subtly match. He goes to his assigned spot, and prepares for the day. He does however sneaks glances at you, especially when you are focused on something, when he is sure he won't be caught.

Rarely ever does he talk to anyone, and seldom does anyone approaches him too fearful of his scars and the vast build.

It was you, who approached him, hands behind your back as you moved swiftly around different countertops, observing everyone's work.

You came to stand beside him, watching him mix cookie batter, you stared at him work for few minutes, before looking towards him, he was already looking at you, nervousness evident when he darted his eyes away the moment your eyes locked. Giggling you moved on to the next table, giving input and advices to make help improve the baking.

He noticed your pattern immediately, you spend the longest hovering over him, but never do you say anything, no critiques, no compliments, just observing his baking and him before you move one to next person.

The knowledge that you observe him alot doesn't really make it easy for him, in fact that's the cause of majority of his mishaps. He could be baking for hours with meticulous precision, but once you come around to see, he fumbles, and he fumbles hard.

There have been so many incidents, where he had dropped bowls, spoons and other cutlery just because you showed up next to him.

On his own, he had never been a clumsy man, so these accidents did keep him awake at night, hoping that you didn't think he was some clumsy guy that couldn't coordinate properly.

It's been almost 2 months since he joined the classes, today the class was about baking sourdough bread, one of his favourite baked goods.

He may have gotten too lost in his baking, kneading the dough with perfection, separating it and adding chocolate chips to one batch, leaving other plain, to make savory sandwiches.

He put both in the oven, grabbing a cloth, to clean the counter, when he noticed you leaning against it. Startled a bit at how you sneaked up on him, he drops the cloth, before he could reach for it, you leaned down to pick it, passing it to him.

"Thank you for that." He take the cloth, moving back creating some distance between you both, flustered by the initial proximity.

"You don't really need these classes, do you?"

"What do you mean?" Nanami questions, wondering what exactly you meant.

"These classes, I have noticed from the beginning, you are far too skilled to be here." You explained, gesturing your co-workers to help others, before moving to stand near Nanami, and peer into the oven.

"You are perfect at eye-balling ingredients, never over or under bake goods, always clean up and list goes on." You lean back, arms crossed as you look at him, he is an attractive man, despite the scars, infact they add to his appeal.

"I don't, it's just I needed to do something with all the free time I have." He admitted earnestly, suddenly feeling too exposed under your gaze, he turns around averting his gaze, choosing to wipe already clean counter.

"If you are so free, Mr. Nanami, why not have dinner with me?" You queried, he stood still, too shocked, wondering if he heard you right.

"I am sorry, what?!" He couldn't really understand what you meant, surely you did not mean what he assumed you meant, you probably aren't asking him out.

"I said, would you like to have dinner with me, Mr. Nanami?" You repeated, cheeky grin spreading on your plump lips, "I am asking you out, as a date." You clarified the obvious, making sure he understood what you meant.

"Are you sure?" He blurted, "I mean, we have never really talked before, and to go on a date suddenly." He explained, blush spread on his cheeks, tips of ears turning rosy too. It's always a delight to watch grown man fumble his words.

"That's why a date, so we," You moved closer, hand moving between you both and gesture him and you, "could talk, get to know each other more." You explanation was reasonable, what Nanami didn't understand was, why him, of all the guys you could get why someone like him.

"We can go, I think,"He says, finally fully turning towards you and meeting your eyes. He watched as your grin widened, you pulled out a napkin from the stand, clicking a pen you wrote down your number with a winky face.

"So, Mr. Nanami, I'll be taking you out for dinner, this Saturday if that's alright." You hand him the napkin, turning around and going back to work, leaving behind a flustered, somewhat baffled but mostly elated Mr. Nanami.

[jinx-xxed]

Reports

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Something small I’ve had sitting for a little bit! I like the simplicity of this one

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; Being in the harsh environment of the First Order causes you to find unlikely solidarity.

Content; Commander Kylo Ren, General reader, original characters, domestic, living life in the First Order, sharing a meal together, slight hidden feelings

Wc; 1.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The night is getting old, time passing by in a trudging slowness. Of course, it’s somewhat difficult to tell when you’re floating in space, but you judge the hour by the dimming lights in the main halls. The lights are set to mimic a full daytime cycle, lessening their light once it gets to evening.

You’ve been stuck in your office all day, finishing outstanding reports and requests under the Commander’s order. You almost don’t mind, it’s given you some peace and quiet, after all. Well, except for the part where Chief and some other members of the Fleet came in to make fools of themselves on their lunch breaks.

Sometimes you’d pause for a while and watch space lazily pass by, needing to give your eyes a break from the paperwork. All the stars twinkling together were a pretty sight, one that could end up sucking you in for longer than you’d like.

You’re nearly finished now, only two sheets left to go over and fill out. They’re both simple mission reports involving your Fleet, used to state what occurred and if anything of importance was found. You cross reference the data pad beside you, inputting missing information where needed and fixing up comments by the Fleet members who were on the expedition.

You’re close to complete with the first report when the door to your office opens. There’s only one person who’d come bother you at this hour.

“I see you finished your work already?” You ask Kylo as he steps inside your space.

“I see you haven’t finished yours.” He retorts, taking off his helmet as he does. It creates a strange effect of his voice going in and out of the vocoder.

You huff. “I’m almost done. It’s not my fault you pile all this on me at the last moment.”

He shrugs. “And it’s not my fault that you procrastinated on it until the last moment. You could’ve finished these at the beginning of the month.”

You grumble some indecipherable response, not looking at him, continuing to scribble away on the pages before you instead. He sighs, sitting himself down in one of the chairs in front of your desk, robes billowing around him. His helmet sits in his lap and he leans his head back over the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“You know, you could go to the mess hall without me.” You point out, typing extra statistics into the data pad.

He merely goes “hm”, like he considers it, and then makes no effort to follow your suggestion. You shake your head, mostly to yourself.

It’s like a weird routine you’ve developed whenever you’re on the Finalizer together; your shifts end at the same time so often that you end up going to the mess hall with each other. Perhaps it’s because you both need whatever company you can get in this place, you don’t know.

It takes you a while to finish the second paper, but still he waits. It’s another twenty minutes before you at last put it onto the neat stack to the side with the others, then stretching and cracking your joints. “Alright, finished.” You say while you stand, flicking switches to power down your office as you do. Kylo’s up and ready by the time you’re done, waiting by the door.

“C’mon BB-12, day’s done.” You say, the droid immediately waking up from his resting spot beside your desk. He beeps at you, rolling around next to you as if he’s just as excited to get out of your office as you are.

You and Kylo walk together down the halls, his helmet still off. It’s late enough that the chances of running into others on the ship is small, meaning he can relax a little. If he even knows how to do that, you think, almost snickering to yourself. You don’t miss his side eye towards you.

The mess hall is also blissfully empty. The mess hall you stand in is meant for superior officers like the two of you, meaning it doesn’t get overcrowded with the many, many Stormtroopers on the ship.

You take whatever’s left from the day, then sitting across from each other at a table located near the back. You eat in comfortable silence, something that’s familiar between you. The food is bland as usual, sticking to the roof of your mouth or crumbling as soon as it touches your tongue. That’s probably the one bad thing about being up in space all the time—the standard issue food.

Throughout the meal, you don’t miss the way his leg is subtly bouncing up and down. It’s impossible to miss, actually. Just a nervous habit, you’d guess, it’s nothing unheard of. Though you can’t help thinking it a bit odd for him, someone who usually acts as if he’s a statue. He’s a person who moves only when necessary, you’ve noticed it’s like an intimidation tactic. There’s clearly an undercurrent of tension he’s holding on to, something that crackles angrily behind the impenetrable walls he keeps up. You can’t decipher it, can’t reach through his defenses and grab it and you know he wouldn’t tell you if you question him. You won’t even waste your breath.

“Any expeditions coming up?” You decide to ask, breaking the long period of silence.

He takes a moment to consider. “Not that I know of.”

You break a piece off one of the nutrition bars, crumbs dusting the disposable tray below. “Well, if you don’t know then I guess none of us do.” You tease.

“You’re just hoping to get out of here, aren’t you?” He asks, breaking his staring contest with the right wall to glance at you.

“Would you blame me if I was?” You say around a mouthful.

He looks at you a moment longer. “No.” There’s an understanding beneath his words and it doesn’t fail to remind you how many similarities you share, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You take one more bite and then scoot back, lip upturned. “I can’t take this food anymore, I’m finished.” BB-12 chirps in amusement from where he sits on the ground next to you.

“Are you so pampered by the food of other planets that you can’t handle this?” He asks. It’s no secret that whenever you’re sent out or the Finalizer docks at a planet, you like to fully indulge in whatever local cuisine is offered. You sometimes blow whole paychecks just on food for you and the Fleet.

You scoff in disbelief. “You can’t seriously tell me you enjoy this stuff.”

His head tilts. “You’re lucky, I’ve heard the food in the lower mess halls is even worse.”

Your face screws up in disgust at the thought. You then see that Kylo somehow managed to finish the whole meal. How he’s been able to stomach this “food” for so long, you’ll never understand. You both throw your trays away, BB-12 taking up his dutiful place at your side.

Since you’re both superior officers, that means your sleeping quarters are in the same sector. Which means you get to walk there together as well. Considering how much you despise this man, it’s almost comedic how much time you have to spend near each other.

The walk there is once again silent, and your room comes up first. Kylo’s is more secluded, meanwhile you’re placed with other generals and members of Fleet 74. If it were up to anyone else, your Fleet would be put with the rest of the Stormtroopers, but you specifically ordered that they be near you for peace of mind. It was something most of the other generals weren’t a fan of.

You hesitate in front of your door before saying, “goodnight, Commander.”

He doesn’t stop walking nor turn back as he responds, “goodnight, General.”

You hum to yourself in thought, watching his bulky form disappear around the corner, his footsteps steadily fading. The corridor is eerily quiet after that, leaving you with an uncertain feeling you don’t want to bother acknowledging in the moment. You place your palm against the scanner in the wall, a beep of confirmation sounding before the hexagonal doors are opening with a hiss.

You walk into your room, breathing in the nice, crisp air. You sigh in relief, shedding your layers and not hesitating to flop onto your bed while BB-12 settles himself into his charging port for the night. You spend time merely looking up at the ceiling, letting your thoughts wander aimlessly.

What a long, boring day.