#now let me elaborate on some positions a bit

[zlobonessa]

i was bored while waiting for a bus. here's a tierlist of re:zero characters and whether or not i think they are smokers

[dangoulains-devotion]

thinking just a bit too hard about how the added depth given to tifa and aerith's friendship only increases the weight threatening to crush tifa after the forgotten capital, she already had so much to carry on her weary shoulders, she's going to have to carry even more when mideel happens, and it doesn't even stop after meteorfall, ohg od oh i love her so much i

[lexxiesbimboboobs]

Birthday Gift

“Really, Kat?”, May asked, giggling under her nose, “I know I have a bit of a reputation among you all, but isn’t this a bit much?”.

“Girl, you fucked half the people in our friend group, me included”, she replied, endearingly, perhaps even with a hint of an invitation in her tone, “This is your reward and encouragement. Go and make that half into a whole - and then some. Just remember not to hit up Daniel, he doesn’t really do sex”. 

“Aww, that is so sweet”, she winked, as if to acknowledge the not-so-subtle invitation she’s just been given. “Gimme a sec, I’ll go and change right now”. As she walked towards the bathroom, she spun the shirt above her head and shouted “Time to be sluuut!”, much to Kat’s endearment. 

As she put on the shirt, May felt an intense pulse of energy seeping through the shirt into her body. All of the cells on its surface - and some of the ones inside of it - lit ablaze with an extreme, burning need, if only just for a brief moment. Yet, after they calmed down, something was different. She was different. 

She got out of the bathroom and presented the shirt, fitting her perfectly. And, suffice it to say, her reaction was more than positive.

“Holy shit! You look so good!”.

“I know, right? I feel kinda weird, though?”

“What do you mean?”

When asked to elaborate, May’s mind went blank all of a sudden. She felt yet another wave of heat enveloping her body. She could suddenly feel even the slightest gust of air flowing inside the room, caressing her body, spreading the fire around it. “You know what, how about I just show you?”.

To put it mildly, she jumped onto Kat like a rabid animal, something which Kat seemed oddly unsurprised by. After what was merely seconds of an extremely wild, sloppy kiss, clothes were coming off left and right - aside from the top. May felt a weird compulsion to keep it on and, besides, it looked really hot with nothing else on her body. 

Their lips met again, only to be separated as quickly as the previous time. May’s tongue then made its way down Kat’s body, with each sensitive part of it being an important stop on the way to the destination. Kat’s neck, boobs, nipples, stomach, and inner thighs found themselves kissed, licked, or bitten (...usually all three) one after the other. All of that at breakneck speed - May was not going to let her friend think even for the briefest moment. 

And as she licked and teased, as she bit and kissed, the strange pulses kept emanating from her top. At some point, they made her so sensitive to pleasure - and so desperate for it - that her body started mirroring what Kat was feeling. If she bit her nipple, she’d feel the same itch around her own, if she teased Kat’s pussy with her hand, always nearing it, but never touching it, she herself would also be teased. 

“You’re such a slut, May”, Kat shouted out, between breaths, as May finally approached her clit - and immediately started licking it like mad. 

In response, the top emanated a wave of pleasure so hot it nearly burned. And May came on the spot, almost without being touched at all. She felt her entire being shifting, as it was shaken to the core. All the heat she had just experienced, all of the intense, animalistic lust and the incomprehensible pleasure now felt as if they were coursing through her veins, reshaping her, permanently into something new. Into something far, far less inhibited.

And yet, as all of that was happening, she didn’t pull her mouth away from Kat even for a second. And perhaps it was May’s skill, her extreme dedication to the primal art of fucking, some second-hand influence from the top itself, or even sheer lucky coincidence, but Kat also found herself on an orgasmic wave. It enveloped her body fully, causing her body to shake as if it had been struck with an earthquake. 

And as it slowly came to a close, her post-orgasmic bliss was interrupted by a sight of May, sitting in front of her, visibly topless and visibly… pink haired? Did the shirt melt into her, or something? 

“May, are you alright? Your hair is, uhh…” She wasn’t sure whether her brain was still not fully capable of thinking after her recent orgasm, or if the situation was just that surreal, but she frankly could not find a single word to even describe the situation. 

“Yeah, it’s pink! Weird, right?!” May responded, seemingly untroubled at all by her newly transformed hair - and likely other, more subtle changes as well. Instead, she just pouted her lips, gave Kat a doe-eyed stare and asked: “So, wanna fuck again?”

---

Make sure to totally message me or something if u come or edge to this story bc i still have like... 102 ppl i need to make cum before i can cum again <3 <3

Hope it was hot love lexxie <3 (also last second patreon plug!!)

[pucksandpower]

Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

[thatgenericwriter]

The Proposal || Gregory House

Paring: Gregory House x fem!reader

Summary: House is going to propose to you but your nail color is not what he was expecting

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 0.5k

P.s. based off a request by anonymous

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"Bright fucking green! Out of all the colors she could have chosen, she chooses bright green!" Wilson could only watch as his best friend loses his mind.

"Why would she choose now to venture out of her comfort zone! She's had some funky colors before, but BRIGHT FUCKING GREEN!?" House paces the room, as best he can, occasionally swinging his cane around wildly.

Wilson can only feel pity for his friend and a tad bit of guilt. He was the one who told House to make sure you got your nails done before he proposed to you. He was scolded by his ex about not warning her before and he just wanted his best friend to have a better proposal than he did.

He never thought this would be the outcome. "Why don't you just tell her to get them done again? This time something a little more tame.'" House stops mid-pace pondering the suggestion before shaking his head and collapsing onto Wilson's couch.

"I can't. She likes them too much and she was so proud of herself for going outside of her comfort zone. It would crush her if I told her to change to her normal color." Wilson shakes his head at his friend, glad that he actually is considering your feelings, but knowing House is going to find an elaborate way to make you change them. Most likely hurting your feelings even more than if he was to tell you.

Luckily, House did not have to create an elaborate plan as you walked in with a fresh new set of nails. "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" House sits up as you come bounding over to him holding up your hands to show your very natural looking nails. "What do ya think?"

House looks from your face to your nails before pulling you down onto his lap. You yelp in surprise and try to avoid his bad leg as you are manhandled into a straddling position on top of him.

"I love you so much." Another yelp leaves your mouth as House smashes his lips onto yours. You pull back slightly panting and questioning his actions.

"All I did was change my nail color." He pulls you back in for another kiss that continues until Wilson clears his throat. "As much as I love to watch you guys make out, I would rather get back to my work." Taking the hint you shimmy off of House's lap and start for the door.

"Why did you change the color?" You turn back to face House who hasn't moved from his spot on the couch.

You smirk at him, "I couldn't let you propose to me while I had bright green nails, duh." House lets out a little chuckle and you watch Wilson's jaw drop before opening the door and bidding them goodbye.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Whispered fairytale - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hi can i have a request about moments of fluff when reader's pregnant? with lewis of course <3" - anon

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: fluff, like a lot of it

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I am not sorry for the sighs I was letting out as I was writting this. You guys have been warned, it's dad Lewis after all.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Monaco shimmered beneath the fading sunlight, a familiar scenery for Lewis and Y/N. This time, however, the champagne flowed with a bittersweet undercurrent as nestled in a drawer, a positive pregnancy test hummed with a quiet revolution. No elaborate pronouncements, just a single pink line etching a new chapter onto their shared story.

Their path to parenthood hadn't been meticulously expected. Discussions about starting a family had danced between them, unspoken agreements carried on the wind of their non-stop lives. Lewis, now an eight-time champion, a feat achieved under the scarlet banner of Ferrari, still felt the fire to chase another title. Yet, amidst the celebrations at the end of season, a quiet voice whispered that perhaps, the timing might have been just right.

As the celebratory roar began to fade, replaced by the clinking of abandoned champagne flutes, Lewis found himself gazing at Y/N, her smile hesitant yet imbued with a radiant joy, although the reason behind it hadn’t been revealed.

Their planned racetrack of a future had morphed into a sprawling unknown, but as Y/N's hand met his, a quiet certainty bloomed within him. This unplanned detour wasn't a wrong turn. It was a victory lap of a different kind, perhaps the starting grid for their greatest adventure.

A Dream

Sunlight speared through the sliver of uncovered window, painting a warm stripe across Lewis's features. Y/N stirred beside him, the weight of sleep clinging to her eyelids. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. Lewis, sprawled on the plush white chaise lounge next to his driver’s room sofa, was the first thing that registered.

Except, he wasn't really by himself, not mentally anyway.

His gaze was fixed on a spot above her stomach, a soft, almost reverent smile playing on his lips. He spoke, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

"Alright, little one," he was saying, "I know you can't hear me yet, but listen up. This whole thing...it's a bit overwhelming, you know?" He chuckled, a nervous sound that tugged at Y/N's heart. "Honestly, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. But your mama here," he glanced at Y/N, his eyes warm, "she's a trooper. We'll figure it out, together. As a team."

The sight of Lewis, ever the composed champion, confessing his anxieties about fatherhood sent a wave of tenderness over Y/N. Carefully, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the dark braids of his hair.

"Lewis," she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.

He turned, his smile widening as he met her gaze. "Hey there, beautiful.”

"Just getting to know the newest member of the team," he continued, his eyes flickering back to her stomach. "We were having a little chat."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet room. "It can’t really hear you" she said, her smile fading slightly. "It's still early days, remember?"

Lewis's smile softened. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her stomach. "I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean I can't try, does it?"

Lewis, ever the believer in manifestation, ever the optimist. She scooted closer, making room for him on the sofa. He settled beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"How was your nap?" he asked, his lips brushing against her temple.

"Good," she mumbled, nuzzling closer to him. "But you woke me up with your…pep talk."

"Just some heart-to-heart, you know?!" he said with a wink. "With the little one, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but a smile tugged at her lips. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The surprise of the positive test, the initial shock, the overwhelming joy – it had all been a blur. Lewis, ever the supportive partner, had taken it all in stride. Sure, there were moments of worry, of panicked glances exchanged in stolen moments, but mostly, there was a quiet excitement that simmered between the couple.

Out of the blue, as it tended to be, a loud growl echoed in the quiet room. She winced, covering her eyes in shame. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, his voice laced with concern. "This little one needs some food, right?"

Y/N nodded, the growling easing down "Yeah," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. "This is all part of the journey. We're in this together."

His words held a quiet strength, a comforting confidence that calmed the churning in her stomach. It was more than just constantly being hungry; it was a reminder of the tiny miracle growing inside her.

They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing. Outside, the world buzzed with activity, the roar of the racetrack a distant rumble. But here, in this quiet haven, a different kind of race was about to begin – a race against time, against uncertainty, but most importantly, a race towards a future filled with the promise of a tiny miracle. And that little one, even though they were still just a whisper of a dream, was already so loved. More than Y/N could ever imagine.

Your scent

The crisp scent of Lewis's signature cologne, a heady mix of citrus and spice, usually sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. Today, however, it was the trigger for a rebellion in her stomach. A wave of nausea crashed over her, sending her scrambling out of bed towards the bathroom.

Lewis, stirred by the commotion, sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Y/N? You alright?" he called out, concern etching lines on his forehead.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice weak. "Just a little…" she trailed off, the metallic tang of bile rising in her throat.

Lewis was by her side in an instant, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Morning sickness again?" he asked gently.

Y/N shook her head, forcing a weak smile. "Second trimester was supposed to be smooth sailing, they said" Her voice held a hint of sarcasm, even to her own ears.

Lewis chuckled softly. "Maybe smooth sailing is a bit optimistic," he admitted. "But hey, at least you're keeping food down" Y/N grimaced. That particular phase had been brutal. She rinsed her mouth in the sink, the minty freshness a welcome relief.

"Actually," she started hesitantly, Lewis's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Your cologne," she began, gesturing vaguely towards the bottle on the dresser "it's making me sick."

The surprise on Lewis's face was comical. He stared at the bottle, then back at Y/N, as if trying to process the information. This was the cologne he'd worn for years, his signature scent. It was practically an extension of him.

"My cologne?" he finally managed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "But it's…" he trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's me, Y/N. You love me, right?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. "Of course, I love you, silly," she said, reaching out to cup his face. "But right now, your child doesn’t really enjoy your 'you-ness'”

A slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, then” he declared, picking up the cologne bottle. "Operation: Find a pregnancy-safe scent it is."

Y/N watched, a smile playing on her lips, as Lewis rummaged through his extensive collection of grooming products. "How about this one?" Lewis asked, holding up a small, unassuming bottle with a label that read "Lavender Serenity."

Y/N wrinkled her nose playfully. "A bit too…serene for you, wouldn't you say?"

Lewis chuckled, tossing the bottle back onto the dresser. "Maybe. But hey, at least it won't make you puke."

Whoever they are

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/N's mother hoisted a heavy bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Lewis's dad, Anthony, hovered beside her, peering inside with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Alright" Anthony announced, brandishing a head of cabbage, "let's settle this once and for all. Boy or girl?"

Y/N chuckled, her belly, now a prominent dome beneath her maternity clothes, bouncing with laughter. "Lewis and I have already agreed, no peeking!"

Across the room, Lewis, ever the competitor, mirrored Y/N's amusement. "Besides," he added, winking at Anthony, "I have a feeling your cabbage test is about to be proven wildly inaccurate."

Anthony scoffed playfully. "Don't underestimate the power of tradition. Now, hand me that measuring tape."

As the pregnancy had unfolded everyone had made the bump a target to old wives' tales and lighthearted debate.

Y/N's mother, a firm believer in the "pregnancy glow" theory, insisted the baby was a girl based on Y/N's radiant complexion. Anthony, armed with his cabbage test (apparently, a high, round shape indicated a boy), remained stubbornly convinced otherwise.

Lewis, however, held a quiet confidence in his prediction of a girl. He couldn't explain it; it was just a feeling, a deep one that resonated within him.

The rest of the family, friends, and even Ferrari staff, seemed convinced it was a boy. The sheer volume of blue onesies and miniature race car toys accumulating in the nursery was a testament to that.

Despite the overwhelming "boy" camp, Y/N found herself drawn to Lewis's quiet certainty, her mother's unwavering belief and Leclerc’s claim that Lewis was a girl dad and he wouldn’t believe in anything else. There was a subtle shift in their preferences, a secret language of pink frilly socks and delicate stuffed animals tucked away in the corner of the nursery.

As the due date came ever closer the playful arguments gave way to a more sentimental atmosphere.

Anthony surprised everyone one evening by pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. "Girl or boy," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you're going to be incredible parents. And that little one," he patted Y/N's stomach gently, "they're already so loved."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye, mirroring the glistening in Lewis's. The truth was, the gender didn't matter. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of their lives.

As Y/N snuggled against Lewis on the couch, just days before their little one arrived, her hand resting on her swollen belly, a wave of peace washed over her.

"You know," she whispered, "maybe the whole point isn't about knowing the gender."

Lewis turned to her, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe," Y/N continued, a smile gracing her lips, "the point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

Lewis's smile mirrored hers. He squeezed her hand gently. "We're ready, whatever comes." he said, his voice filled with an unshakeable certainty.

Their shared ritual

Exhaustion clung to Y/N like a second skin. The past three months had been a parade of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant, gnawing worry that comes with being a new parent.

But nestled in the crook of her arm, a tiny miracle slept soundly. Her daughter, in a quiet moment of shared hope, was a testament to the love that bloomed amidst the chaos.

She was a symphony of soft sighs and the occasional gurgle, her tiny fists clenched in a peaceful slumber. However, the moment Lewis's voice cut through the quiet of the room, her whole world seemed to shift.

"Hey there, my little champion," Lewis cooed, his voice a low murmur as he entered the nursery. The infant’s eyes, a pitch perfect copy of her dad’s brown ones, snapped open. A wide, gummy grin split her face, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her tiny lungs.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with warmth washing over her. Lewis, ever the prodigy, had taken to parenthood like a natural. The same gentle persuasion he used on the racetrack was now employed to coax a smile from their daughter, his voice a soothing melody that calmed her fussy cries.

The transformation was remarkable. Y/N vividly recalled the first trimester, Lewis sheepishly confessing his anxieties about fatherhood to their unborn child. And throught the months a routine was created as every evening, he'd spend a quiet moment by Y/N's side, whispering words of encouragement and promises of love to the tiny bump.

"Alright, little one," Lewis would say, his voice barely above a whisper, "we're going to face whatever comes our way, as a team, okay?"

Those nightly pep talks, once a source of amusement for Y/N, now seemed almost prophetic. The kid, it seemed, recognized Lewis's voice as a source of comfort, a familiar sound that echoed the evenings spent nestled safely inside Y/N, bathed in the sound of his love.

Lewis, oblivious to the internal monologue playing in Y/N's head, scooped the baby into his arms, his face alight with a radiant joy. He bounced her gently, singing a silly, made-up song about a race car driver and a tiny princess. Captivated by her father's performance, the infant cooed and gurgled in response, her tiny hand reaching out to grab a lock of Lewis's dark braids.

Watching them together, a lump formed in Y/N's throat. The exhaustion that had threatened to consume her throughout the day had faded away, replaced by a fierce and overwhelming love. There, in the quiet sanctuary of the nursery, their team flourished – united by an invisible thread of shared love, a love story whispered before their daughter ever entered the world.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

[beckyninja]

Accused

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader (sort of)

Warnings: mob violence

Description: While serving in the DeathWatch, Titus meets the woman who will come to mean more to him than he ever thought.

Another long prequel for you guys! This one takes place some time before the events of Revelation.

You ran.

Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you fled down the dry stream bed. High ravine walls on either side blocked the moonlight. You fled blind, guided only by memory. It wasn’t enough.

You slammed into an unseen boulder. Momentum hurled you forward onto the ground, skin scraping from your hands and knees. You let out a short cry, then froze.

Did they hear?

You strained your ears and heard nothing. But that did not comfort you. Your pursuers had spent lifetimes hunting wary prey in these mountains. Still, after a few minutes of stillness, you began to hope.

 Perhaps they’ve given up.

From your prone position, you fought to see through the darkness ahead. The Angels’ ship. Your only chance of salvation. It had to be there!

You opened your mouth to scream. “Help m-”

Hands clamped onto your face and shoulders. You bit and struggled as they lifted you off the ground, dragging you backwards.

A high, mad laugh chilled your blood.

“You will burn, Heretic! Burn!”

***

The Day Before

“Father Cortez, this insanity must end!”

You stood outside the village’s little church, shawl pulled tight against your shoulders, and glared at the priest. He glared back. His red-rimmed eyes seemed to burn within their sockets. Blood stained his robes.

He’s been flogging himself again.

Your lips twisted. “How many more must die before you admit the uselessness of-”

“Silence!” Spittle sprayed from the priest’s mouth. “How dare you challenge me, girl!”

You sighed. Only a few years older than you, and yet he called you “girl.” You looked around at the crowd of villagers milling uneasily. Men, women, and children worn ragged by the terror of the past few months. Their eyes flickered between you and the priest.

“Friends,” you smiled, “for four generations the women of my family have tended your hurts, healed your sick, and delivered your children. I may be young. But I studied at the feet of my mother and grandmother before me. You trusted them.” 

“Will you not trust me?”

Marta, the elderly church caretaker, finally spoke. “What would you have us do, Healer?”

You nodded to her. “We must send someone down-mountain, into the city. We must call for aid-”

“No!” The Priest shrieked. “These attacks are a test sent from the God-Emperor Himself! To purify and strengthen our faith!”

Your temper frayed. “And does the Emperor use xenos monsters as his instruments now, Father? Does He demand we sacrifice humans to them? Innocents?”

“Heretics!”

“Was little Carlos a heretic, Cortez? At seven years old?” You pushed through the crowd to point a finger directly in his face. “Was Old Inez, who never went a day without praying in this very church?” 

You straightened your spine and loomed over the little man. “With each villager bound and left for these beasts, you promised they would leave. Have they? No!” You spun back to face the crowd. “Because they are no punishment! They are-”

A metallic roar cut off your words. From over the peaks surrounding the village, came a ship the likes of which you had never seen. The crowd shrieked and scattered as it hovered directly over their heads. For a minute it lingered there, sending dust-filled wind whipping through the square. Then, it rose once again and veered toward the south, beyond the ravine.

You stood amidst chaos. In front of you, families dove into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. Behind you, Father Cortez ranted and raved.

Upon the side of the ship a symbol had been carved: A skull and crossbones over an elaborate “I”. 

Hope flickered in your heart.

***

“What are they?” Marta whimpered from her place next to you.

You peered through the church’s dirty window. An hour or so after the ship flew over the village, a few hunters had heard heavy footfalls coming up the ravine. For the second time that day people locked themselves within their huts and prayed to the Emperor.

It seemed He had finally heard them.

“The Emperor’s Angels.” You breathed.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded. “My great-grandmother saw one once, my grandmother told me.”

Giants in armor who brought salvation to the faithful and destruction to the enemy.

They were certainly giant. But the Angel in your grandmother’s story had worn brightly colored armor, whereas these wore black. You squinted through the grime and could just make out a couple of insignias painted on the massive shoulders: some sort of canine head and a stylized cross.

One bore no insignia at all. A red hood covered his helmet. You watched him gesture to the others. 

“What are they doing here?” Marta’s voice shook.

“I think… I hope they might be-”

“It is none of our concern!”

Father Cortez’s bony hands gripped your and Marta’s shoulders. He dragged you backwards with surprising strength. The older woman tumbled to the floor with a pained cry. You knelt to help her, shooting the priest a look of disgust.

He ignored you. “Whatever they are here for, we should leave them to it.”

“And what if they’re here to help us?”

“We need no such help! The Emperor provides!”

“By the Throne,” you pressed your hands to your eyes, “yes. You’re right, Father. And He has provided.”

You pointed out the window. “There is His provision! Walking down our main street!”

“What… what are you going to do?” Marta whispered.

“If they are here to stop the xenos,” you muttered, half to yourself, “then they need to know about the earthquake, and the cave up on Black Peak.”

The priest cackled. “And what makes you so sure they don’t already know, girl?”

“Cortez!” You whirled on him. “Enough with the ‘girl’! I remember when you were a pimple-faced brat who delighted in pulling the legs off insects.”

If anything, you’ve only gotten worse since your ordination.

The priest drew back into the corner of the smoky church.

“Yes, go sulk and leave me be.” You took a deep breath and made for the door.

Marta shrilled your name. You waved the old woman’s concerns away, clinging to what little courage you’d managed to gather.

“I’m going to help, if I can.”

***

Idiot. Idiot! Throne damned, idiot! 

Five helmeted heads had turned your way when you pushed open the church’s door and stepped into the square. A wave of dread washed over you, every primal instinct you possessed screaming at you to run.

Oh Throne, they’re so… big!

You knew large animals. Before the attacks began, the village had made its living hunting the lumbering beasts that lived among the peaks and ravines. Once you’d even seen one of the great predatory felines.

This moment reminded you of that encounter. But, instead of dashing back to safety, you continued toward the predators. You kept your hands held out in front of you.

I’m no threat. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from your lips. As if these behemoths would ever consider me one!

When you’d gotten within twenty feet, the Angel in the red hood raised a hand, palm facing you. He didn’t speak, but you felt the command as if he’d shouted. You halted, dropping to your knees and bowing your head.

You doubted your trembling legs would have carried you much farther, anyway.

An odd hissing, crackling noise seemed to come from the Angels’ direction. You didn’t dare look up as footsteps approached.

“Rise.”

The deep voice shook you from the inside out. You gasped and tried to comply, only for your legs to give out. A great, armored gauntlet grasped your upper arm, steadying you. You looked up into the lenses of the hooded Angel’s helmet.

For an instant, you swore you met his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, then, against all reason, calmed.

He won’t hurt me.

You didn’t know where the conviction came from. You just knew it to be true.

“Who are you?”

You told him your name. “I…I am the Healer of this village.” You remembered your grandmother’s story and hastily added, “M-my Lord.”

“Are you alone here?”

“N-no, my Lord. The others are afraid.”

A laugh, almost a bark, came from one of the other Angels. “And ye are not? Plucky little lass.”

Another gave a growl. “Commander, we should not linger.”

The Commander never looked away from you. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I…,” you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself, “I hope you are here to help us, my Lord. Against the xenos.”

A soft intake of breath, as if in surprise. “What do you know of xenos?”

“My great-grandmother came to this world on a refugee ship, my Lord. She told my grandmother of the Enemies of Mankind and their horrors.” 

Silence, except for that hissing, crackling noise again.

You swallowed, desperation making you bold. “Please, my Lord, I think I can help.”

***

“... after the earthquake, some of our hunters reported a new cave opening up on Black Peak. A few boys decided to explore it. They never returned.” 

You scampered over another boulder on the trail. You’d climbed this path dozens of times in your life, but it had become more difficult since the quake. Your foot slipped on a patch of loose shale.

Once again, an armored hand reached out to steady you. You smiled up at the Commander. Strange, the others still unnerved you, but not him. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He gave the barest nod. “Continue.”

“Well, that night the attacks began. They only ever come after dark, and they only ever take one person. Oh.”

Just ahead, an entire rock formation had collapsed on the trail. You watched the other Angels step over the rubble with minimal effort, and looked for a way to do the same. Suddenly, you felt hands at your waist.

The Commander lifted you like a child, settling you in the crook of one arm as he jumped the obstacle. One of the other Angels, the one with the canine head on his pauldron, looked back and chuckled.

“Oh! Um, thank you again, my Lord.” 

You waited for him to set you on your feet. He didn’t, continuing up the mountain path.

“It will be faster this way.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You blurted.

“You are not. Continue.”

“R-right. Um, yes. The survivors say the creatures are like great insects, but made of metal.”

“Mmm.”

You wracked your memory for anything else. “Their eyes… they glowed green.” 

The giant carrying you stiffened. You had no time to wonder about it before you spotted a great black opening in the mountainside far above you.

“There it is!”

The hissing, crackling noise again. All five Angels came to a halt, peering up at the cavern. The Commander placed you on the ground.

“Go back.”

You nodded. On the one hand, you were glad to be away. On the other…

“Will you be alright?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. One of the Angels guffawed, the sound starting a few small rock slides in the distance. You felt another’s glare like a brand on your skin.

“Of all the insolent-”

The Commander held up a hand, silencing him. “We will be fine. Go.”

You turned, shame heating your face, when he spoke again, softer than before. “My thanks.”

***

Halfway down the trail, you heard explosions, followed by rumbling chatter you assumed came from the Angels weapons. Plumes of smoke rose from the Peak.

God-Emperor, protect your Angels as they do battle in Your name.

Especially the kind one. 

Your cheeks heated again and you scrambled back down the path. Would he remember you? You doubted it. Just an insignificant girl from an insignificant village on an insignificant world. You, however, would remember him for the rest of your life.

Another story to tell your own children, one day.

Without the Commander to carry you over the taller obstacles, it took the rest of the day to return to the village. The sun had begun to set. You smiled. Only yesterday the thought of being out after dark would have sent you sprinting in terror. But now…

You nearly skipped down the last stretch of path. You were hungry, thirsty, and tired. But you could not wait to tell your friends the news. They no longer needed to be afraid. No more need be sacrificed to the monsters in the dark.

Your mood soured at that thought. 

None needed to be sacrificed in the first place.

Hopefully, now that the danger was past, the villagers would see how twisted Father Cortez had become. Perhaps you could rally them, convince them to send him back to the city. The village could request a new spiritual leader.

The streets were deserted. You heard voices in the direction of the church. A strange red glow seemed to emanate from that direction as well. A celebration? You smiled and broke into a run. You had much to celebrate.

A bonfire blazed in the center of the square. Father Cortez stood before it, gesticulating wildly. Before him every villager in the settlement watched with rapt attention. 

As you neared, you began to make out his words.

“...Emperor, in His mercy, sent His angels to relieve our suffering!”

Finally, something you and I agree on, Cortez.

“But the stain of heresy still remains!”

You jerked to a halt at the rear of the crowd. 

What?!

“We must find the true cause of our afflictions and cleanse it through flame! Lest the monsters return to ravage us once more!”

To your horror, the crowd murmured in assent. You noticed their postures, the looks in their eyes, and wondered what lies Cortez had been pouring in their ears during your absence. They reminded you of nothing so much as a herd of panicked prey animals.

But you’d calmed them before.

You began to move through the crowd. You smiled at the people you knew as friends, people your family had done nothing but help for four generations. Most refused to meet your gaze. Some glared, firelight dancing in their eyes.

Cortez saw you.

“There!” He shrieked. “The one who denied the Emperor’s justice! The dissenter! The trouble-maker! The outsider!” His lips curled back into a feral snarl. “The Heretic!”

You looked once more into the faces of the villagers around you. What you saw there chilled your blood.

You ran.

***

Present

“No!” You struggled in the grasp of the mob, searching desperately for a friendly face. “Lonzo, Maria, Berto! You know me! Help me!”

“Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!”

The damning chant pounded in your skull. Hands clawed at you, raking your skin and tearing at your clothes. You felt a hunk of your hair yanked out. A fist struck you in the face, followed by blows to the ribs and stomach. You heaved, tasting blood.

“Bring her here!” Cortez’s voice screamed out above the noise.

The mob threw you onto the ground before the bonfire. Its heat scorched your bloodied skin. One eye swelled closed, but you could still see Cortez standing above you. The firelight made him look like a daemon out of his own sermons.

You gritted your teeth and rocked up onto your knees. “Bastard! If there is someone to be blamed for all our misery, it’s you!”

His boot met the side of your head. You collapsed back into the dirt, ears ringing.

All around you, faces you recognized. Maria, whose twins you’d helped your mother deliver. Berto, who you’d spent weeks nursing through a fever. Lonzo, who had danced with you at the last midwinter festival. 

You saw Marta and reached out a hand. She spit on it.

“Why?” You whispered through split lips.

If you’d made it to the Angels’ ship, if they’d told everyone how you helped, would it have even made a difference? Or would Cortez have simply waited for them to leave before he accused you?

Accused. 

The priest pointed down at you.

Accused.

The crowd roared for blood.

Accused.

You felt yourself dragged upright and shoved toward the bonfire. You didn’t fight. You had no fight left. 

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

You closed your eyes.

“Enough!”

Everything went silent save for the crackle of the flames. The hands released you, and you crumpled to the ground once again. You heard the familiar tread of armored feet. Then gauntleted hands lifted you gently, so very gently, and you looked into a hooded, helmeted face.

I’m safe.

The Commander towered above the cowering mob. Dimly, you heard Cortez babbling something, sounding as if he’d gone truly insane. The Commander shifted you to one arm.

You watched him reach down and lift the gibbering priest by his collar. 

“Fool.”

With an almost casual flick of his arm, the Angel tossed the priest on his own bonfire.

***

You awoke to the light of dawn. You lay on a hard, metallic surface, some kind of cloth draped over your body. Confusion clouded your thoughts, and you tried to sit up.

Pain shot through every limb.

“Easy, easy now.” A voice soothed. “Here, drink this.”

Some kind of cup was brought to your lips and you drank, coughing at the acrid taste. The pain began to fade. You blinked and looked around.

An older woman knelt at your side. She was clothed in a black robe with the symbol of a canine head stitched on its shoulder. Three scars, like the mark of a claw, ridged her cheek and gave her a fearsome look.

But her eyes were kind when she smiled.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” The woman patted your shoulder with a broad, rough hand. “I’m no apothecary, but I do know how to mix the odd painkiller in a pinch. Can ye stand?”

She helped you to your feet. You looked around, realizing you stood in the belly of the ship you’d seen fly over yesterday. The Angel’s ship.

Throne, was it only yesterday?

A ramp lay open to the ground outside. Through the dawn glare, you recognized the rocky ravine. A shudder ran through you.

The woman noticed. “Aye. We’re still on your rock of a homeworld.” She spat. “Allfather curse it!”

Your head spun. “How? Why?”

She patted your shoulder. “I’m sure the Commander will explain. He’s a decent sort, for a Black Shield.” She gave you an odd, knowing smile. “I think you’ll find yer a lucky one after all.”

“I don’t-”

“Frigg!” A familiar voice bellowed. “Curse it, woman! Is the lass awake yet?”

The woman snorted and stood. “Aye, she is, m’lord!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, aye, yer lucky. Lucky the Commander picked ye instead of him.”

“Bring her out, then!”

The woman, Frigg, fussed over you. “Now, ye be a good lass and do as yer told and ye’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”

Head spinning, you staggered down the ramp. Four of the Angels stood clustered off to one side, surrounding a crate of some sort. They all looked much the same as you had seen them before. Perhaps a few more dents in their armor.

The one with the canine insignia barked a laugh as you appeared. He elbowed the one with the cross insignia, who growled under his breath.

“Waste of time.”

“Hah! Simmer down, Templar. The Commander led us to a good fight. If he wants a new little serf girl out of it, what is the harm, eh?”

Serf?

“Brother Ulfar, Brother Beren. Load the artifact onto the Thunder Hawk.”

The Commander appeared from the other side of the ship. He didn’t have his hooded cloak. With a start, you realized it was draped over your shoulders. Your face burned and you hurried down the ramp as quickly as you could, holding it out toward him.

You tripped. Yet again, he steadied you.

“Clumsy.” The word held no anger.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord. I just…I just wanted to…” you sighed, giving up. “Thank you.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed his helmet. 

You almost stopped breathing. His face was a mass of scars. Metal studs of some kind dotted one side of his forehead. His lips curved in a stoic frown. You felt you should be frightened.

But his eyes…

Warm and weary and sad. They looked down into yours.

“You cannot return to your home.”

All of a sudden, everything threatened to overwhelm you. You covered your face with your hands. Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“F-forgive me, m-my Lord. I-”

“You have shown courage.”

You did not feel especially courageous in the moment. He continued.

“I would have you come with me.”

You gasped and stared up at him through the blur of tears. Brother Ulfar’s words came back to you.

“As a… a serf?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that means, my Lord.”

He explained. You would tend to his quarters and armor, cleaning, mending, and performing whatever menial work was required. 

“In return, you will be fed, clothed, and educated.” He hesitated, then to your astonishment, sank to one knee. “And I swear by my oath as an Ultra- as an Astartes, I will never let you come to harm again.”

You shook your head. “Why?”

He didn’t seem to mind that you’d forgotten to add “my Lord”. “I know the pain of a false accusation. I know how deep betrayal can cut. I,” he looked almost bashful, “would spare you some of that pain, if I can.”

By the Throne, you saw empathy in those eyes. Frigg had been right. He was a decent man.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and took a deep breath. “Then I will try and serve you as best as I am able, my Lord.”  

One of the corners of his mouth ticked upward. He nodded and stood, replacing his helmet.

“Follow.”

“My Lord? One more question, if I may?”

He turned back toward you.

“May I know your name?”

Another long pause. He nodded toward the other Angels.

“They know me as ‘Nullus’. In the hearing of others, you will address me as such.” You heard a long breath. “In private, you may call me Titus.”

You didn’t know what this new life would hold, and you doubted it would be easy. But one thing you were certain of.

You would follow Titus anywhere.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

Once again, please comment if you'd like to be tagged in any further work.

[tubbytarchia]

To all the nosy neighbour enjoyers, thank you for being that. Anyway here's my propaganda!! Just some of my favorite moments tee hee

Sorry if my BigB looks weird (I tried really hard :( ) I'll pretend that that's intentional given my rabbit hybrid BigB thoughts under cut:

I made a little post about this before but basically BigB has such rabbit behavior:

1. Cannot help but keep burying himself underground like it's his natural habitat (seriously he comes back on ground to build a house on a mountain and then immediately makes an elaborate underground hideout again. Or how he built backrooms in SL and kept retreating there. Or how he was literally underground when he ran into Pearl, for Pearl to inform him that it was night time and BigB immediately wanting to retreat back underground. Or how he was underground for almost the entire "red winter is coming" session. Or)

2. Often fidgety around others

3. Constantly cautious but doesn't let nervousness show if there is any

4. More prone to keeping distance and watching rather than engaging

Idk he is extremely prey animal behavior (positive, affectionate) and I can never see him as anything but a rabbit now. I considered giving him rabbit legs too but then I was like nah. Because I think him having weird rabbit posture in a mostly human body contributes some inherent awkwardness and a bit of uncannines (fitting with his gaslighting tendencies). After all he's kind of out of his element above ground (or that's how he acts!) and that's when people are going to be seeing him. But just you wait till he stands tall for a change to tell someone off (like Cleo in SL or Scott in LimL). And with such posture, he inadvertently makes himself look smaller, which certainly would help him weasel his way out of undesired situations like he often does, eg by talking people into pitying him to save himself from dying. I'd also like to imagine him to be smart enough to manipulate his rabbit ears to not betray how he's feeling or to make others think he's feeling a certain way, unless he feels particularly threatened or something. That's maybe half the appeal of animal ears to me, that they can be an added tool for emoting, but a hybrid moving them in deliberate ways is a fun concept!

Oh and he has caving boots!!

I do kind of seethingly hate how he looks with his ears drawn back but I did the best I could. I really hate having human ears in addition to animal ears personally, but if I put his ears any further up where they'd look cuter (Pearl's antennae for comparision) it'll look really weird. Aghh whatever he's supposed to be awkward so whatever please ignore it Im going to cry

Also if you think the old design is cuter, it's almost certainly because of the lesser facial hair lol trust me!! And I changed the curly hair to be a bit less curly in likeness to Lee from Walking Dead because I did not realize that BigB's skin is basically that and I couldn't help myself. I was overall really unhappy with my old BigB design so yay for redesign. I swear its not just animal features that make things interesting for me...... maybe somewhat....

[roystartt]

It's been a few weeks since Tommy finally cracked and went and spoke to Evan and the pair managed to actually communicate.

And the last few weeks have been heavy, lots of talking, there's been tears and mini arguments as they both valiantly tried to finally make the other understand where they were coming from. But it's been good too, they both want to make this work, extracting promises to always talk in the future before running away or jumping five steps ahead.

But there's also been quiet times where they just soak up each others presence in a way neither of them can get enough. As if they can make up for those missing months by pure osmosis.

Tonight's one of those nights where they're trying to reconnect with each other, on this journey they're on to finally get to know eachother. They'd ordered takeout and were now tangled up together on the couch whilst some romcom played on the TV in the background. Not that they're really paying attention to the TV, preferring to switch between lazy makeouts that neither are really trying to get to lead anywhere anytime soon; and just staring into each others eyes, sometimes murmering gentle conversation.

'You know,' Evan starts, when he pulls aways from another lazy kiss, 'the 118 were surprising good at never letting me know.'

This just confuses Tommy, but by now he is more than used to being behind in the conversation as he knows that whenever Evan speaks, there's a trail of mental gymnastics happening silently inside his head before he ever speaks out loud. It impresses Tommy whenever Evan explains to him all the different jumps he makes to connect two subjects. He wishes sometimes he could climb inside Evan's mind and truly experience it.

''What do you mean, sweetheart?' He probes when it doesn't seem like Evan was going to clarify.

Evan shifts a bit to lean his back against Tommy's chest and reaches for one of his hands to fiddle with his fingers. 'You know, when we were broken up, they would never let on when they had seen you. Your name went from being one of the most popular topics of conversation to basically taboo.' He elaborates with a laugh.

But his new position meant he could feel more than see Tommy freeze and tense up at his words. Evan turned his head back so he could see his boyfriend's face and frowned at the look upon it. 'What is it?'

'Evan...' Tommy started, hesitantly. 'What makes you think any of the 118 saw me when we were broken up?'

This caused Evan to fully shift back around so they were facing eachother again, he out a hand on Tommy's chest, half for balance and half to ground himself in the other man. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, I'm pretty sure I was their public enemy number one,' Tommy explained softly, bringing a hand up to stroke one of Evan's curls, 'Not that I blame them of course.'

This only caused the frown lines on Eva 's face to deepen. 'B-but you were friends with all of them before we even got together the first time. Chimney never shut up about how glad he was to properly reconnect with you past a phonecall every few years. And I basically had to share custody of you with Eddie!'

Tommy smiled softly, leaning up to press a comforting kiss against Evan's birthmark. 'That's true, but then I went and broke their brother's heart.'

'You were just trying to protect your own heart!.' Evan defended him fiercely, causing Tommy to chuckle. He loved how far they'd come in understanding and forgiving each other.

'Yes, but they didn't know that sweetheart.'

Evan deflated, sinking all of his weight onto Tommy. 'They really stopped doing things with you?'

'I would cut ties with anyone that hurt you like that too, Evan. I'm just eternally grateful that you gave me a second chance.' He leaned in to give him a proper kiss, hoping to distract Evan from the topic of conversation.

It only worked for a few seconds before Evan was shooting up, indignant all over again. 'Please say they at least texted you to check in on how you were coping?'

'Evan, I-' Tommy sighed, struggling to find the words to calm Evan down, not wanting to further incriminate their friends, but also not wanting to lie.

Evan could read what Tommy wasn't saying and before he could stop him Evan was off the couch and storming towards the door. 'Babe! Wait, where are you going?'

'I am going to give them a piece of my mind. They spent weeks eating my baked goods and telling me not to call you, and they couldn't even pick up the phone to check on you!?' Evan was practically seething at this point.

Moving quickly, Tommy met Evan at the door, stopping him from where he was angrily trying to shove on a jacket. 'Sweetheart, it's 11pm at night, I don't think waking them up from sleep to shout at them for being on your side is going to do much good. They were just trying to look out for you the best way they knew how.'

'Yeah, well who was on your side Tommy? You deserved to have someone looking out for you too.' Evan exploded, heated.

Tommy grabbed Evan by the hips and pulled him in close, hugging him until he could feel Evan start to calm. 'Well, luckily, I have you to look out for me. And I'm not going to be foolish enough to give that up ever again.'

His words were enough to finally have Evan fully relax into Tommy's arms. 'Well good, because I'm never letting you give it up again, either.' He sighed, before quietly continuing; 'I'm just disappointed that they didn't also look out for you. I thought they were better than that.'

'They're your family, Evan. They acted out of love for you, they didn't owe me anything.'

'Bullshit, you are their family now too, and they best never forget that again.' Evan grumbled, his face pressed into Tommy's neck.

Evan smiled coyly, before waggling his eyebrows, 'I did defend you pretty hard. It's going to take a lot to show me how really grateful you are.'

'How about you hold off on their lectures for now, and let me take you to bed.' Tommy proposed, tilting his head back so Evan could see his face. 'You could let me show you how grateful I am to have you as my biggest defender.'

'Hmmm, let me try,' was Tommy's reply before he took Evan's lips in his own, this kiss considerably more passionate than the ones they had been exchanging on the couch earlier on. If Tommy had his way, he'd never stop trying his best to show Evan just how eternally grateful he is to have him by his side.

[awonderfulliar]

Tangerine flavored

As if you didn't have enough problems already... You sighed as the man behind you pushed his gun in your rib to make you move faster. Your hands were up in the air and you were breathing slowly, focused on the sounds around you. Why did so many people want you dead again? You chuckled a bit, remembering all of the stupid decisions that brought you here. You kept smiling. Quite funny how most of your survival instinct can shut down when you've been sleep deprived and stressed long enough. The big bad man standing in front of you must not have liked that as he ordered his men to knock you unconscious.

When you woke up, your hands were tied to a rusty radiator with dried bloodstains. You weren't quite smiling anymore. Especially when you saw the instruments in a metal bowl lying on the ground not far from you. The room was dark and only a ray of light slipped through a metal door on the opposite wall. You blinked as someone opened the door, letting all of the brightness from outside reach your tired eyes.

-Sleep well darling? did a male voice say in a mocking tone

-Where were you all night? Off to another girl's bed I take it.

The man grinned a bit and you knew your sarcasm would sooner be beaten out of you then you could get a laugh out of this tall caricature of a gangster's handyman.

-A lot of money has been paid for your pretty head, you know.

-Always knew I could be a face model.

-I don't think that's so true anymore, bloody mary.

You wipped your cheek and looked at your hand. Dried blood and dirt covered your fingers.

-Anyway, sweetheart, my boss wants to know how you were able to piss off all of these people.

-Can't he ask me himself?

-You're not that important.

-Well it seems I am actually. And you guys are the only ones unaware of why apparently.

A voice coming from outside shouted "We have a fresh one!". The man in front of you harshly took your hands to tie them. Then he turned around calmly and left the room with the door still open. You tried to get up, but were too slow as he quickly came back with two other men. One was almost unconscious, beaten up, and bloody all other. His messy brown curls hid most of his face and a golden chain hang around his neck as his head was tilted towards the floor. The two men handling him threw him on the ground next to you and his already torn blue suit soiled with the grey dust of the room.

-Alright, we'll let you two rest for now, but don't worry, darling, I'll be back soon enough. And you better have an answer for me by then.

The two men left the room and you stared at your new now completely unconscious companion.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Where the fuck am I?

He said in a raspy voice, waking you up from your very light sleep. You didn't answer and looked his way for the second time today. He was quite handsome, actually, with piercing blue eyes, a sharp jawline, and a nice British mustache. You stared more than you were meant to because that's how he took notice of you. As the weird girl staring at him.

-They locked me up with the crazys?? What the fuck is wrong with these people?! I'm a respectable sane man, I am. Fucking pricks.

You chukled, your eyes still lingering on his figure. You liked his accent too. You turned your head to the door, finally leaving the man some privacy as you closed your eyes. You heard him standing up with difficulty and reaching the other side of the room probably while leaning on the wall. He was grunting in pain. You opened your eyes.

-Yeah, they probably forgot to lock the door. Or maybe they left us the key. Oh, wait, what if this is just an elaborated escape room, uh?

-Your hands are tied, mines aren't. So maybe try that again in a nicer tone, uh love?

-Kinky...

He threw you a mean glance from across the room. That smug smile that earned you all those problems was still on your lips.

He slid on the wall and fell back in a sitting position. He looked exhausted. As you were trying to think of what to say, the door opened.

-So, are you ready to talk? Or do I need to deal with you in a less calm manner?

That man from earlier was back, smiling and clearly on a power trip.

-I don't know what you want me to tell you.

He walked across the room, past the handsom exhausted man, and stood straight like a stick in front of you.

-Maybe start by what you did to deserve one of the highest price I've ever seen on someone's head.

The british looking man, who was starting to fall asleep, began to pay attention at those words. His blue eyes were on you except you doubted it was to take in the sight of your face. Too bad...

-Would you believe me if I said I didn't do anything?

The handyman squat down, looked at you, and slapped you in the face harshly. Even the other guy flinched.

-Start speaking now or...

-Or what?! You'll kill me?? You're going to do that either way! So what's the point of figuring out why others wanted to do it themselves?! You'll collect the prize with or without knowing why it was put on my head in the first place. You don't need the info. You just need an excuse to keep me alive until the client comes in and sees me alive. I know they want proof. Live proof. They want to see you guys kill me. You're not doing me a favor by letting me live, you're just doing it to get the bigger bag.

The man stood up, hummered something that sounded like "smart cookie", chuckled, and left.

-Jeez... what did you do? *did british hottie say*

This time it was your turn to throw a mean look his way.

-You really think I'm gonna tell you.

-I can untie your hands for starters. And I can help you get out of there. However I like to know who I'm doing business with, so if you wouldn't mind disclosing the information that guy was looking for...

-Get me out of there and I might.

-Doesn't work like that love.

-Then leave me here. I never asked you to help me, did I?

-Obviously, it's going to be harder to escape alone.

-So untie me and I'll help you.

-What if you're actually crazy and will turn on me the first chance you'll get.

You chuckled. Smiled a bit, a sad look on your face.

-A big tough buy.. scared of me... scared I'll be the one to hurt him. It's crazy how life turns out, uh? One minute you're scared to walk home alone after the sun goes down. The other, the guy you would have been scared of on those streets at night turns out to be the one distrusting you.

His eyes were locked on you. Watching you as if you were some lab rat. An eyebrow raised in interest. A serious look that meant he wasn't taking this scientific anaylisis lightly. He rose back up, slowly walked up to you with the difficulty of a hurt man, and lowered to your level when he came close enough.

-What's your name?

-Is it important?

-It is to me. You thought of pointing out the implications of that answer, but were scared of where that would lead the two of you.

-Y/n.

-I'm Tangerine.

-That's a fruit.

-Good observation skills. A real detective.

-I'm just saying.

As you were talking, he came even closer and untied your hands. His fingers were grazing your skin. You smiled again, this time without the sad look on your face but a more embarassed one. Like a young girl with a crush in 6th grade recess. It wasn't that he was touching you (not entirely at least). It was that he was helping you.

He stood back up, straightened his back, and extended his arm towards you, opening his hand. You were looking elsewhere as he gestured to you.

-It is a fruit's name though... you're named after a fucking fruit... and I'm the crazy one...

You take his hand, get off the floor, and smile big this time, confidently, and with a mysteriously cocky look in your eyes.

-Alright, time to get out of here.

-Look love, I appreciate the confidence and all, but let me take the lead on this. You're obviously a bit slowed down by all the beating and like you said, I'm the big tough guy here.

-I'm not slowed down! *You said while starting to walk towards the door, damn your leg hurt...*

-You're limping...

You smiled a bit awkardly. "Nothing serious... just haven't stretched out yet is all". Tangerine smirked and walked (shall I mention a lot faster than you as he wasn't limping) towards the side of the door.

-Could you get your friend back in the room please? Just him though.

-HEY ASSHOLE!! COME BACK HERE I'M READY TO TALK!

And just like that, you heard footsteps advancing. The door opened 40 seconds later, and you locked eyes with the bitch slapping dumb looking goon. In shock of seeing you standing up, free of your ties, he took a milisecond to stare you down during which Tangerine grabbed his head in his hands, quickly broke his neck, and picked up the riffle.

-Could you pass me his handgun?

-You're not gonna kill me are you love?

-I don't eat tangerines... always preferred oranges.

-You do realize that there are other ways to interpete this right?

You laughed silently, murmuring "Yeah well I don't mean it like that obviously...". To your surprise he heard.

-Obviously?... *He smirked at you with a very cocky look on his face which made you blush a tiniest bit, but under the dirt and blood, you were almost sure he couldn't see it. He handed you the deceased goon's gun*.

But, time for banter quickly came to an end as your british eye candy advanced in the dark and gloomy hallway, on his gard. You followed after him. Quick story short: he shot most of the gards himself, and you had to fire the gun maybe 5 times total, surely hitting your target, but not contributing much to the team's effort as there was a little bit more than only 5 gards between you and the exit. To be completely fair though, you guys managed to not alert every guard there thanks to you, as you killed quickly the ones running for help.

All of this came to an end in a backalley of a London restaurant where the fire escape you took led. You were free. Somehow. Still limping and in a quite awful condition. But free.

-Well this is where we say goodbye Y/N. I don't know what you did to get that prize on your head, but surely you must be a terrible person. Get yourself out of trouble though, love, this isn't a life for a sarcastic humorist tangerine hater such as yourself.

-So no one believed me when I said I didn't do anything wrong?

He looked at you, a bit surprised, but you didn't look back. You just started walking (in that case limping) towards the Main Street. It must have been quite a pathetic show as he walked up to you and put his arm under yours to help you. You didn't say anything. Didn't look at him. Just starred at the ground before you, wincing quietly at each step.

-Where shall I drop you off love?

You stopped moving. Chuckled. Looked the other way. And with a sad but desperately trying to be funny tone, said:

-I'm not sure to be quite honest...

He didn't respond. Took a deep breath for a minute. Then put his arm back in place and you both walked towards a phone booth. There he let go again and went in. Made a phone call, went out, starred at you, you starred back.

-Hungry?

You nodded your head to say yes and, wonderful timing as it was, your stomach started growling just then. You put your hand on your stomach as to silence it and Tangerine chuckled which showed off his extraordinary jaw definition.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You both sat on the same side of the table, apparently waiting for someone. As your british knight in a shining armor looked around the diner, you ordered fish and chips, chocolate milkshake, and a banana split. Once you were finished talking to the waiter (who was very disturbed by your bloody appearance by the way), Tangerine looked at you.

-That is the weirdest order I've seen placed in a while.

-Well what did you want me to order?

-Lemon! *Did he exclaim*

-Lemon for dinner? I don't think so, that would be terrible...

Tangerine stood up and hugged the man that came in. Both took a minute to catch up as you continued to mutter on how dumb ordering lemon would be for diner...

They both sat down, and Lemon starred at you.

-Who's that? A bit roughed up are you? Do you need a tissue or something? To wipe all that off...

You looked up from the menu.

-Ah, I look fine, haven't slept in a bit is all.

-Who is she Tangerine?

-That's Y/N, she needs a place to crash and we have a couch, so I thought...

-When did you meet?

-At least 24 hours ago. *You said in all honesty*

-Tangerine are you fucking mental?? Do you know how many people want us dead for what happened last year? We're not inviting a bloody stranger to the hotel. Hell no...

-Lemon... She seems to be on her own and it's not like she couldn't have killed me earlier had she wanted to... Jim's men wanted to sell her off to some kind of client, she's a bit lost is all*He said whispering*

-No! What are we?! A fucking adoption shelter taking in strays like that? She's a liability is all she is... You can't help a girl just cause she's pretty and seems harmless. She could be a hired assassin for all we know.

-I should probably go... I'll just wait for the food though, if it's okay with everyone. *You said looking down and with a low voice.*

You all sat in silence for a minute.

-Why did they want you dead so badly? Jim's clients? *asked Tangerine*

You didn't respond, just looked down. The food came. You ate the fish and chips quite quickly, then the banana split. All in silence. As you sipped on the milkshake, you noticed they were both still starring at you, waiting for you to answer probably.

-Well I meant it... I didn't do anything wrong.

-No one ever does... *sighed Lemon, visibly distrusting of you*

-I'm not an assassin okay? I don't kill people for a living... I find things, things people want. Like antics, or old military files.

-But you're a good shot, and quite calm for a civilian. *Raised Tangerine*

-When I started the job, I was just an academic looking for pretty random stuff, but the work wasn't just adventures and detective work, sometimes criminal organizations looked to acquire the same objects as I was. So I got help from hired gunsmen and sometimes even official special forces. They didn't want me to be helpless without them so they trained me a bit. Once I got a few skills added to my resume, my clients started asking me for more valuable objects, that more and more people wanted. So of course my skillset kind of diverged to dealing with the competition. But it wasn't on the job description when I applied.

-Jim specializes in assassination though? Why would he want you? *Asked Lemon*

-Because there's a bid on my head...

-And why is there a bid on your head?

-Because they think I stole something...

-What did you steal?

You finished the milkshake. You were about to stand up but Tangerine was looking at you a bit too concerned.

-Look Love, if you tell us what happened, and you didn't actually do anything wrong, then we might agree to help you. We're not complete assholes...

-Aren't we?! Now why would we help?

-Because Jim is a prick and anything to piss him off is worth the effort.

-Fair point... Alright Y/N, tell us, what happened?

-They think I stole the key to the MI6 database.

-Wait... don't tell me they have one key that can access...

-All datas on past, present, and future missions, on British government security, on british criminal organizations, on undercover agents, what they have on the CIA, on the FBI, on every other country's secret services, on the nuclear codes... Yeah all of that. Yes it exists.

-And they think you have it...

-No, they think I stole it.

-But then why would they want you dead?

-Because they also think I destroyed it after looking at it.

-And no one wants their secrets spilled out by you...

-Yep.

-But you didn't steal it?

-Not exactly...

-What did you do?

-My client wanted me to recover a file of the MI6. It was practially undoable. So I digged and I digged until I found this hardrive in an old vacant MI6 hideout. It was weird because it looked top secret but didn't have anyone around it to gard it, it was like it was handed to me. I looked at it, didn't have that much protection, just enough for me to think it was valuable, but easy enough to crack down. Then when I accessed it, it was a whole database of incredibly sensible documents. Yeah I looked at it, but not for long, got the file I needed, but before I could send it to my client, someone knocked me unconscious and I woke up without the hard drive but with a billion dollar target on my back. Somehow the information got out that I stole the hard drive from the MI6 super super secret base, which I never even set foot int.

-So someone set you up?

-Yes.

You stopped talking. Looked at them. Lemon looked sorry for you, Tangerine looked concerned, and you... chuckled.

-The bill's on you, right? *You asked in all seriousness.*

Tangerine smiled, and lemon was about to refuse, but his brother replied first.

-Yeah, the bill's on us love, but maybe let me eat first, okay?

-Are you gonna eat a fruit?

-You know I've already ordered right, and this joke's old already.

You waited for the two brothers' food to arrive while Lemon changed the subject to whatever happened to Tangerine. Apparently Jim and his men had some beef with the fruit brothers, and those nice lads had a plan to take down Jim's goons except it all went wrong when Lemon made one too many references to Thomas the train... ah no, it went wrong when Tangerine took too long in the bathroom to check his hair, well something went wrong, and, ah the food arrived!

-Where's your family Y/N? *Lemon asked*

-Countryside.

-So you have one. Do you want us to drop you off with them?

You didn't reply right away. They were almost fininshed with their food. You waited until the plates were clean to say:

-Look, if you want to drop me off somewhere and forget I ever existed, take me to the airport, I can look after myself, but don't think my story is gonna have some fairytale ending. Obviously I'm gonna get killed at some point or another, I'm just trying to enjoy my time until then.

-It's not like we can make the entire criminal world stop looking for you. I would help you, you see, but I don't know how. Honestly, you're kinda fucked...

-Don't listen to him -*Tangerine jumped in*- You're not fucked, you just have to diverge the attention to whoever has the key. Once people start looking for them, they'll forget about you.

-The problem is, I don't know who has the key. If I did, not only would I be off the hook, I'd be damn rich.

-Hold on... *Lemon stared at you for a moment* How much money is in the game?

-More than a billion that's for sure...

The two brothers starred at each other not sure what to say for a minute. Tangerine turns back to you and is about to speak when Lemon says:

-Let's make a deal, we help you find whoever got the key, it gets the target off your back, and we get 2/3rds of the money. You get the rest.

-I'll make you one better. *You smile fully, showing your teeth and visibly amused* You get all the money, as long as I'm still alive.

-Deal! *Lemon extands the palm of his hand which you clap right away*

As the three of you head to whichever hotel the brothers booked in a cab, Tangerine whispers to you:

-For the record, I was ready to help you regardless of the money.

-That's stupid. You shouldn't do that.

-What's stupid is being a big though guy and not helping people who so clearly need it.

You looked at him for bit. The same look you gave him in that cell when you first saw him. "Fuck you're actually so beautiful" you thought.

-Thanks. Not the reply I would have expected, but thanks.

Sleep deprivation clearly made you a tad bit lunatic, saying stuff you weren't supposed to. You looked away immediately and rested your head against the window. Closing your eyes felt like heaven.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hotel was old and cheap, the late 80s style still intact. You liked it. Starred at the curtains of the room as the sound of the shower filled the silence. You closed your eyes.

-The shower is free. May I suggest you take one before going to bed love?

You woke up with a dizzy head, you really wanted to go back to your nap, but the guy standing in front of you wasn't budging.

-Are you saying I smell bad?

-Yeah, I am. Get up now.

You did, he held up a hand for you to take it which you did as you were more than tired. He didn't let go when you were up though and led you to the bathroom. You weren't sure where Lemon had gone to. He turned the shower on, pointed to the soap, and said:

-I reckon you know how to shower. Won't need my help for the next part then.

You grinned a bit and looked at him, he smiled. After he left, (and only after), you started undressing and finally took the shower. Once you turned the water off, he knocked on the door.

-Are you decent?

You grabbed a towel and answered positively. He came in, took a glance at you, closed the door, and stood in front of you for a second. His eyes went from your wet hair whose natural color was finally visible, your face which was now recognizable, your clean skin, your bruises, and then back to your face. He had some medical products in his hand and gestured to the bathtub. You took a seat on the edge of it. He dabbed a cotton in disinfectant, and slowly went over every single one of your cuts. They were quite a lot of them.

-Jesus, how many days did you stay in that place?

-Just a couple hours before you came in.

-Where are all these marks from then?

-Other people.

The last injury was your cut lip. He went over it delicately and you just starred at him for the third time this week.

-You're quite sweet for an assassin.

-Are you gonna make another fruit joke?

-Saw right through me... No but really, why the kindness?

-Just because you do some bad stuff for money doesn't mean you have to be an asshole for free too now does it?

-Thank you.

-You're not saved yet, thank me when you are.

-I will.

You both smiled, this time he was looking right back at you. Nice blue eyes like antartic ice. Really, really nice eyes.

-I'm back. *Lemon shouted from the room. He then entered the bathroom looking for his brother and his gaze settled on you.* You look quite nice without all the blood and dirt on you. Oh, wait, guys... Did I walk in on something?

Tangerine scoffs, gets up, and pushes Lemon out the bathroom. You hear them banter for a second before Tangerine comes back with a bag that he hands you. He politely smiles at you and exits the room, closing the door behind him. You go through the bag to realize your old clothes are no longer in condition to be worn and two men who were complete strangers a week ago just had to guess the size of your bras and panties. What was even more awkward is that the ones they bought fit quite well. The rest of the bag was some blue jeans, a black halter top, and a loose shoulder black sweater which you liked. You didn't put it on though, opened the door without getting out and asked for a t shirt. No way you were sleeping in jeans for 12 hours straight. A t shirt flew right to your face a second after. Probably Tangerine's guessing by the smell. He smelled nice. But not the point. You put it on and finally got to fully crash out on the couch. You couldn't move anymore, too tired, too comfy, you were just there. Before falling asleep, you saw the handsome brit throw a blanket on you trying not to look at your figure.

You woke up a bit lost, not sure where you were or how long you had slept for. A few seconds brought your memory back and your eyes adjusted to the light. Tangerine was there. Sitting at the desk typing away on a computer, his back turned to you. You got up and walked towards him. You were standing just a few centimeters away as you leaned over his shoulder and stared at the screen.

-What's that? *You asked*

-Holy... fuck, have you heard of heart attacks??

-You're that old? Don't look a day over 50. Are you trying to hack into the MI6?

-Well obviously yes.

-From a cheap retro looking computer?

-Do you have a better idea?

He then realized you weren't wearing pants. To which he gave you a disapproving look over his mustache and continued:

-Maybe start by wearing some pants before attacking the cheapness of my computer.

-Pants are overrated.

-I'm sure they are. *He turned back to the screen. You sat on the desk, facing him.*

-If my legs disturb you so much, stop looking at them.

-Get off the desk. You know for someone getting threats from half the criminal population, you're surely quite calm.

You hummed, got off the desk as prompted, and went to get the jeans from yesterday. However, he stood up and grabbed your hand before you could get fully away.

-Alright maybe you don't need to put pants on right away. *You turned your face to him, starring into his eyes* I was right though, when we met. You are really crazy.

-For not wearing jeans to sleep?

-For flirting in the middle of a life or death situation. *He pulled you in closer.*

-Who said I was flirting? *You closed the last gap between you two*

-Me. *He leaned in to kiss your lips*

[saturngas]

Hello! I hope you are well 🩷

E It may sound cliché or a bit stupid, but I'm genuinely curious about the fandom's opinion on Gojo's ideal type. The few things I found are a little shallow and nothing very elaborate, or from a few years ago when we didn't have so much Gojo in the manga. SO WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS? 🥺

gojo’s ideal type

helloooo thank you so much for this ask. I love this kind of asks because they make me think hard hhaha

but anyways I really think gojo wouldn't have like an exact idea of an ideal type regarding personality and appearance, the only thing he would focus on/prefer is that his s/o understands him.

so we are hinted multiple times throughout the whole story that gojo feels alone, especially after geto's departure, and that the main reason is his unreachable strength. he is the strongest sorcerer. he doesn't really look for a super strong partner, but I would definitely think he prefers someone strong or with a cool technique.

some people affirm that gojo values people measuring their strength, and I kind of agree with it, but to say he only see the strength of people is wrong, I would say that he looks for people with potential (like he has stated before with megumi) and definitely people with a strong mindset.

so I really dont wanna make this a gojo's character analysis hahah sorry so ill answer your question directly, just wanted to make that clear before stating my beliefs.

I think gojo would settle for someone who thinks like him, regarding the jujutsu world. he wants to change it, so he wants people who think like him to be next to him.

if that person, like I said before, has a strong mindset and unbreakable personality, I think that would be a huge plus. I feel like gojo likes dense people, someone who doesn't really changes their opinion like super fast, someone in control of their beliefs.

now regarding a bit of personality, I think gojo would get along with almost all personalities. he is very smart and honestly very kind at heart, so he would look for positive traits in every personality. buuuut if I had to be a bit more specific, I think he would like a bit more a woman with a demanding personality. like not exactly someone who is dominant over him, but kind of. hahah he likes seeing someone trying to boss him around considering he is the strongest and can do anything he wants, so meeting someone with such guts makes him wanna know more about that person.

a kind person would also be a plus. well, not exactly super kind, but someone who helps others. lets remember he is a teacher after all, so he would look for someone who cares for others, especially the younger generation. I think he would prefer someone with a similar profession as his. it doesn't have to be an educator just like him, but like I said before, someone who cares for the youth.

a bit of an unpopular opinion hehe but I simply cant see gojo with someone who doesn't have a similar humor as his. like we always see people getting annoyed at gojo for being such an idiot, so I really think his partner needs to-has to be just as silly and goofball as he is. like someone who supports his jokes and antics. I cant see him with someone super serious or someone who is plainly boring.

I think the perfect match for gojo is someone with the same energetic and passionate energy as him. he would love someone who is also clingy or physical as him, I feel like he loves giving and receiving physical affection. that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the other love languages, but I think he loves receiving touches, words of affirmation, and service acts.

so in summary, I think gojo's ideal type would be someone who agrees with him/has the same purpose as him regarding the corrupted jujutsu sorcery, someone who is fraternal and supportive of the youth, someone who can match his silly and quirky personality, someone with a corresponding humor as his, someone physically and emotionally strong, someone passionate and intense about their own dreams and goals, someone who understands his position as the strongest and is there next to him anytime he needs reassurance, someone who can read him easily since he isn't overly open, and someone who would love him and demonstrate love just as him or even more (he would love that).

I definitely think he is a tits guy.

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks @soulaires <3 so guys right now im out of town so I won't be making super long and specific content for a few days. but once I get back to home ill be working on parts 2 of some fics :))

[blanceyblance]

A study on Lance's underrated role on the team.

Or, "Yes, there was a Space Mom"

Some time ago, I made a post saying that, the closest thing to a "Space Mom" the paladins ever had was actually Lance and I wanted to make a post elaborating more on why I thought so.

Now this is not me saying that we have to put this Team in neat nuclear family boxes, even Shiro, the one who the fandom collectively agrees to call "Space Dad" doesnt fit perfectly the Team Dad trope, but what I mean is that, this role is one that most of the time it appears naturally in any group of friends/people.

So, lets start with seeing how TVTropes describes what is a Team Mom:

"In an ensemble show, especially of the fighting kind, there needs to be someone to hold this Ragtag Bunch of Misfits together before they kill each other or wander off into the woods like so many Player Characters."

"The Team Mom basically acts as the mother figure for everyone else in the group, regardless of age or family relations."

"Although the role itself is traditionally female, the overprotective dad or older brother can qualify for Team Mom"

"They are by definition never the loner, and will in fact tend to be the one who pulls them into the cast's orbit as a Sixth Ranger. If anyone can break through and bring about a Heel–Face Turn or Cooldown Hug, it's them"

"if any of their surrogate children or siblings are threatened, they can snap into angry Mama Bear mode and kick some ass"

Basically, this role is less about gender and age and more about how the character threats the rest of their peers.

It is hard to imagine resident flirty goofball Lance as fitting in a role like this since, usually, characters that are referred to as the "Team Mom", seem a bit more responsible and mature.

And, admittedly, it is a role that he has to grow into a bit, but even in the first episode he already had some shades of this:

Covering for Pidge and taking the brunt of Iverson's anger, running to aid someone who had fallen from one of the pods (before knowing it was a pretty girl) and protecting Coran from a explosion.

Overall through the show, Lance actually ends up being very caring and protective towards his teammates.

I was unsure on how I wanted to do this analysis since, there is actually quite a lot I want to talk about, so I decided to highlight how Lance acts with every member of the team from this angle.

Keith

The Lion Switch and Keith stepping to pilot Black is what, for a lot of fans, kickstarts Lance's arc of becoming a more mature individual and team player.

But even as early as s1, we do have moments of Lance keeping Keith grounded, like when he stops him from being reckless and hurting the balmera.

In season 3, when Keith is dealing with the loss of Shiro, everyone present decides to turn to Lance to handle it, Lance doesnt even notice what they are doing and instead goes to talk to Keith.

It is interesting that, even Coran and Allura (the adult and the diplomat) also look at him to handle the situation. And it's not a case of just looking at the next person in line, since Pidge is very clearly looking in his direction.

They eventually join to talk to Keith too but not before Lance makes the first approach.

And even when it was clear he really wanted to be chosen, Lance still quickly went to support Black's choice and thus, Keith's new position.

Like Allura tells us later, this is what makes Red, the literal right hand lion to call for Lance.

"You value a strong team"

Because thats what makes Lance really shine. His utter love and care for his team.

Even when he was clearly disappointed about not being chosen he decides to forget his own hurt to instead show to his unsure teammate.

And support he did.

After Keith goes to follow Lotor and makes the team enter a difficult situation while Allura is struggling with Blue, it's Lance the one who manages to make him stop and return.

Keith returns with Lance and shows he is regretful of his actions, one would think that Lance would take this chance to scold his "rival" but instead, he just acknowledges that Keith did mess up but now they are going to fix it. Showing Keith he is not alone in this.

After this incident Lance keeps being very vocally supportive of Keith (when he agrees with his orders).

And will usually follow his orders to a T. For example in "The Journey Within" Keith made a system for the team to sound off every certain period of time, and when Keith stops seeing a point to it, Lance keeps going and the team follows his lead.

It is also interesting to mention, these moments of Lance speaking softly to Keith when he is freaking out.

Another example would be when they get captured and Keith calls the name of his teammates, Lance being the first name he calls and the first to answer.

This ended up being quite long and the 10 pic limit doesnt help either so I will be splitting this in parts.

Keith and Allura's section is, unsurprisingly, quite long but I managed to gather a little evidence to talk about Lance's relationship with all the team.

Hope you guys enjoyed this first part

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[whimsicalpolitical]

Thigh lover - Matty Healy

mdni 18+ in which you tell Matty you’re obsessed with his thighs and what you’ve always wanted to do with them.

content warning: thigh riding (obviously), male masturbation,

The sun shines brightly as you and Matty cruise down the highway. The car's low rumble is a comforting background, and you can't help but watch Matty as he drives. His eyes are on the road, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh.

You’re mesmerized by the sunlight on his tattoos. The tightness of his pants around his thighs accentuates every line and muscle. You trace the contours with your eyes, feeling a warm flush.

You’ve always had a thing for thighs, especially Matty’s. When he’s wearing jeans like today, they’re even tighter bringing his crotch and thighs to bear.

You have never gotten further than grinding on his lap or just innocently sitting on one thigh. Sadly. Because you want to get off on them, feel how they flex under you. God. You just don’t know how to tell him.

You’re open with kinks in your relationship. But it’s mostly Matty who wants to try new stuff, you are open as well, but you never suggest anything.

You don’t know how long you can go before climbing over the control to sit down on him and start grinding on his jeans.

You feel you panties get wet at the thought and you’re clenching your thighs, adjusting your position in the search for friction to give yourself some relief.

“You alright?”

Matty’s voice is a hit to reality. You look at him offering him a tiny smile. “Yep, just hot.”

He glances at you quickly before his eyes turn back to the road. "D'you need me to turn the AC on?"

"No, it's fine," you say, but your mind is racing. You cant stop thinking about him and you can’t even turn your eyes off of his thighs.

His hand sometimes resting on his right thigh, wanting to replace his hand with yours.

“You’re acting off, love.” Matty says, squeezing your hand to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, glancing at him and then quickly away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and desire. "It's nothing," you mutter, but you know you can't keep this to yourself much longer. The thought of his thighs under you, the way they would flex and move, is driving you wild.

“C’mon, spill it.” His eyes are narrowing slightly with concern. “You haven’t said one word the entire car ride.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. It's just... I feel weird bringing it up."

"Try me," he says gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You take another deep breath, trying to gather your courage. "You know how you always tell me to let you know when I want to try something... in bed?"

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, f’ course,” smirks, “you want to try something?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously.

“Yes but, oh god, it’s not really something in bed I guess.”

He smiles at your nervousness, knowing exactly that you hate speaking up on those things.

“You got me, tell me. Want me to piss on you or what?” He jokes knowing damn well if you would ask him to do that it wouldn’t take long for him to actual fulfill your every desire.

You groan and your face flushes. You cover your face with your hands. “No, not that,” you stammer, peeking at him through your fingers.

Matty bursts into laughter, the sound filling the car. "I'm just kidding, love. But seriously, what's got you so flustered?"

You mumble into your hands a low “thighs,” which is definitely understandable for him but he always wants you to elaborate.

“What’s that?” He asks, both hands on his wheel now, pushing his hips up a bit to settle into his seat. You’ve been on the road for quite some time now and he’s complained every ten minutes that his ‘arse hurts.’

“Matty,” you say softly, maybe convincing him to act before asking you what you exactly mean.

“Nah, love,” he chuckles, “don’t know what you mean, what did you say.”

You turn your head to the window, looking at all the houses passing by, familiar houses. Which means you’re almost at Matty’s.

“You’ve got my attention. Out with it.”

“Fine,” you groan, looking at him again. “Your thighs.” You say, “I’ve been thinking about them.”

The shit eating grin on his face is making you more nervous but over all even wetter. “Forget about it Matty.”

“Love, c’mon ease up a bit yeah?” he says, his tone softening just a touch. “You’re not getting out of this one. You’ve got to spill the beans now.”

You sigh, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I just... I really want to try something with your thighs.”

His grin widens, and he shifts in his seat again, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere. What exactly did you have in mind?”

You look at your lap, “want to grind on them.”

Matty licks his lips before his lips part, his breathing getting heavier. “Oh want to use ‘em hm? Get off on them, s’that it?”

Matty's suggestive response sends a shiver down your spine. You clear your throat, trying to maintain composure. "Yeah, I... I think it could be really hot." Your voice wavers slightly, betraying your nervousness.

“Fuckin’ yeah that’s hot,” he lets out a chuckle, looking at you. “Wanted to go home the whole day, now I have something to look forward to.”

You can’t help but smile at his response. “So you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay, love.” He says giving your thigh a playful squeeze. “If we weren’t two minutes away I’d pull over.”

You squeeze your thighs together, this time with Matty noticing. He pushes them apart with his hand. “Eager much?”

The next to minutes feel like hours, the giddiness spreading through your body as you can only imagine what’s going to happen when you get home.

And then you do get home and he’s already on the couch spreading his thighs, calling you over.

“C’mere now, can clean this up later. Want to make you feel good now.” He pats his right thigh and you can’t help but smile, walking towards him in your shorts. You settle down on his lap and he tuts, “not like this.”

You blush, he extends his arms to help bring you to your knees, lacing your fingers with his as he keeps you balanced while you shuffle forward to straddle his leg.

“S’ no different than grinding on my dick alright,” he grins, already taking the piss out of you. “Jesus, love, I’m already as excited as you.”

“Yeah?” Your teeth roll over your bottom lip, a flutter of excitement dancing in your belly.

“Fuck yes,” He grins up at you, head resting back on the couch "You get to enjoy yourself, and I get to watch while you do it. S’ some hot shit.”

You nod your head, excited, allowing yourself to rest your weight fully onto him. Immediately, the simple pressure of his wide thigh against your thin shorts is enough to send a surge of heat dancing up your spine.

Resting your hands on his shoulders to get comfortable, you lean in for a kiss, capturing his bottom lip between yours and dragging a sleepy little growl from his throat. He guides you slightly higher up his thigh, the shift in angle pushing your clothed clit tight against his leg making you whimper helplessly against his mouth. The rumble of Matty’s low chuckle vibrates warmly in his chest.

“Don’t hold back, show me what you want to do with m’ thighs.” murmurs reassuringly, hands resting firm either side of your hips, urging you to move.

The roll of your pelvis is tentative at first, figuring out what pressure and speed work for you. Settling into a rhythm, the friction builds a delicious pressure low in your belly. You feel yourself getting wetter with each grind against Matty’s thigh. An appreciative little groan from beneath you has your eyes opening to see him staring right between your legs - at the little damp spot you're marking him with.

His hand on the small of your back brings you towards his mouth, tongue sliding wantonly between your lips with a fiery possessiveness that makes you rub faster and tighter circles full of need against his thigh. You feel a coil tightening, pulling at your insides, when he stops, gripping your hips.

“Stand up f’ me,” you whine, pouting your lips and he laughs, kissing them. “Only f’ a second, need to get these off.”

You stand up infront of him and he quickly tugs the shorts off of you, looking down at your panties, the wet patch very visible. “Christ, darling, you fuckin’ love this.”

“Get back here,” he demands, pulling you back onto his thigh and you immediately start rocking your hips back and forth.

"Fuck," you whimper, thighs shaking slightly as you continue the abuse toward your swollen clit, somehow Matty’s jeans make the stimulation even better through your thin panties and it almost causes you to lurch forward in shock.

Matty chuckles at that as he throws his arms over the couch casually, "hm, feel good?" you nod quickly, too lost in your own pleasure to comprehend a word.

His hands slither onto your hips from behind and press you harder against Matty’s flexed thigh causing a silent scream to escape your lips.

Matty’s cock begins to twitch inside his already-too-tight pants and he unclasps his belt skillfully with one hand, undoing the button and lowering the fly.

“Keep using my thigh, want you to completely ruin my jeans.” You moan and nod in agreement your eyes trailing down his body to where Matty’s hand disappears in his jeans.

He’s pulling out his hard cock from his boxers, "you can’t believe how fuckin hot you look, riding my thigh like this" His other hand slides down from your hip to your knee, giving a light squeeze.

Matty swipes his tongue over his bottom lip before giving his cock a tug, “Christ.”

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, “can’t believe’ s the first time we’re doing this.” The lustful nature of his words alone sends a shiver down your spine, only encouraging your arousal as his leg bobs perfectly against your throbbing clit. Suddenly, the slick of Matty’s' tongue meet your neck, gliding down to your exposed clavicle as a familiar knot begins to wind in the pit of your stomach.

“M’ close.” You slip a breathy moan, pumping your cunt faster against your boyfriend's leg.

“S’ that so? Fuck-“ Matty grins, pulling your heat further against the rigorous motions of his leg - your agile fingers tugging at his shirt "Cum for me, darling." He strokes his cock still in a torturous pace, not wanting to cum without you.

“Make a mess, love,” you mewl into his shirt and clench around air, hips picking up speed while you grip his bicep. Matty’s thigh is damp with your arousal, the warmth seeping into the fabric and vaguely hitting his skin.

You feel his body shake with each passing stroke of his fist. The fact he is getting off to you getting off on him makes you shiver with delight. You lift your head from his shoulder and crash your lips against his messily; teeth closing, tongues swirling.

He speeds up his fist, grunting himself as his orgasm approaches. His eyes stay on you though the whole time, not wanting to miss a second of you grinding on his thigh.

“Oh- fuck,” You call out as your orgasm hits, chest rising and falling rather drastically as your body takes to instinctively adjusting.

“Good girl- fuck,” you ride out out your orgasm but instinctively you replace Matty’s hand with yours, jerking him off in a brutally fast pace. “Keep doing that.”

His lips press against yours once more, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before pushing it in. Your hands come up to cradle his face while you swallow down every single moan and grunt leaving Matty’s throat just as he spills himself into your fist.

You are both panting, grinning into each others mouths when you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this soaked,” he states, starting to prep kisses down your arm. “I think you need to tell me your fantasies more often.”

You giggle into his neck, leaving a kiss at the same spot, when you finally get off of his lap, the stickiness almost gluing yourself to him.

He smiles at the wet spot on his jeans proudly, “hm, are you feeling alright?”

You nod, watching him tug himself into his pants again to stand up, “more than alright Matty, thank you.”

“You’re joking, f’course baby, hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

You laugh, “definitely need to shower now.”

“Oh what a coincidence, me too.” He laughs standing up, already pulling his shirt over his head revealing his tattoos and his skin covered in some sweat. “Let’s go.”

He grits his teeth together before yanking you over his shoulder, playfully smacking the skin on the back of your thigh. “You’re my little minx”

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 4: Semantics

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova Word Count: 3.4k Summary: The interviews are over. The tour has been completed. You've made your decision. You accepted the position and will sign the contract. You're about to learn what that truly means.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: unknown use of organic sleep enhancers, manipulation, gaslighting, cult themes, entrapment, coercion

Notes: No notes, just tiny bits of information trickling in...

Previous: Consideration | Series List

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You wake up at the sound of a familiar knock, and Yelena bursts in as you blearily sit up, blinking your eyes open and stretching your limbs. 

She sweeps into the room, her blonde hair released from its earlier braid and bouncing with each energetic step. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" she chirps, her voice full of excitement. "We've got a big night ahead!" 

As your eyes adjust to the soft light, you notice she's not alone. Behind her, a staff member in crisp white uniform wheels in an ornate silver cart. 

"I thought you might be hungry after your nap," Yelena says, gesturing to the cart. "We've prepared a little pre-event snack for you." 

The staff member lifts the dome cover, revealing an elaborate charcuterie board that would make any food stylist weep with envy. The tantalizing aroma of various cheeses and cured meats wafts through the air, making your stomach rumble from the smell alone. It's a veritable work of art, with an array of cured meats arranged in delicate rosettes, an assortment of cheeses ranging from creamy bries to pungent blues, chunks of bread, crackers, and a rainbow of fresh and dried fruits from figs to strawberries, along with jams and some honey.

You chuckle. “Who in the world is going to eat all this?” you ask. 

Yelena laughs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I plan to make a good dent in this myself, but you can have what’s left."

She turns to the staff member, thanking them warmly before dismissing them with a nod. As the door closes behind them, Yelena claps her hands together. "Now, let's start getting you ready for the evening!"

With a bounce in her step, Yelena heads towards the bathroom. "I'm going to draw you a bath," she calls over her shoulder. "Trust me, you'll want to be thoroughly relaxed for tonight." 

Since you do feel the post-nap hunger, you snatch a few morsels from the charcuterie board as you hear the sound of rushing water begin to fill the tub. 

After satisfying the edge, you pluck off a couple of pieces of fruit and pad into the bathroom. Your breath catches once again at the sight. In the soft light, the emerald green marble and tile surfaces give off a radiant warmth. They’re accented with golden fixtures that gleam, their sleek lines contrasting beautifully with the organic swirls of the marble. The large soaking tub is already half full, and you can see wisps of steam rising from the water's surface. 

Yelena is bent over the tub, swirling her hand through the water. As you enter, she looks up with a grin. "I've added some special oils to the bath," she says. "They'll help you relax and prepare for the evening." 

The scent wafting from the tub is intoxicating - a blend of rose, jasmine, and something deeper and more exotic that you can't quite place. It makes your head swim pleasantly. 

"Go on, get in," Yelena urges, standing up and grabbing a fluffy white towel from a nearby rack. 

You hesitate for a moment, suddenly self-conscious. Yelena seems to sense your discomfort and gives you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm not staying. I just volunteered to get you in the bath and steal some of the divine charcuterie while Natasha was still trying to wrap up. She’ll be here soon." With that, she sets the fluffy towel next to the tub, and exits the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“I’m taking all the brie with me,” she calls back through the door and you laugh. 

Alone now, you slowly undress, letting your clothes fall to the cool tile floor. The steam from the bath envelops you, carrying that intoxicating scent. You step into the tub, and as you slip into the water, you can't help but let out a contented sigh. The temperature is perfect, and the oils seem to caress your skin, instantly melting away any lingering tension from the day.

There’s a panel for controlling the light and music in the bathroom within easy reach. You put on one of the more mellow artists and hum in contentment, reclining against the back of the tub. You close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth and the gentle lapping of the water against your skin. The soft music blends with the steam, creating a cocoon of tranquility around you. The scent of the oils seems to deepen, weaving tendrils of relaxation through your mind and body.

As you float in this state of blissful semi-consciousness, your thoughts drift and swirl like the wisps of steam above the water. Images from the day flash behind your closed eyelids - the grand tour, the mysterious conversations, the moment you sealed your fate by accepting the position. But these thoughts don't bring anxiety or tension. Instead, they feel distant and dreamlike, as if you're watching scenes from someone else's life.

At some point you fall asleep again  because you’re jolted back awake when someone squeezes your hand. 

It’s Natasha, knelt beside the tub, and you contract immediately to hug your knees to your chest, heat flooding your face and your stomach, trying to scrap at some level of modesty in your naked state. The water has cooled slightly, but it's still comfortably warm. 

Natasha's expression is gentle, but laced with something you can’t quite put your finger on. "Don't worry," she says softly, "there's nothing to be embarrassed about. We're all just bodies, after all."

You nod, still feeling flustered but trying to relax. It’s easy for her to say something like that, but you’re fully aware of your flaws and what you think are your flaws. You do think she genuinely means it - that she holds no poor judgment of the way you look - and that does more to quell your insecurities than anything else. 

"I'm sorry I startled you," Natasha continues. She cups your cheek, and it’s so unexpected it disarms you for a moment. "I knocked, but you must have been deeply asleep."

But before you can think more of her hand on your face, she stands gracefully, reaching for the fluffy towel Yelena had left earlier. "It's time to get you ready for the evening," she says, holding the towel open for you. "We don't want to be late."

You hesitate for a moment, then take a deep breath and stand up, water cascading off your body. Natasha wraps the towel around you without any hesitation before turning and striding out of the room without another word. 

"I didn't mean to fall asleep in the tub," you mumble, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Natasha chuckles softly, pulling some papers out of her briefcase on the table - undoubtedly your employment contract. "It's quite alright. You had quite a long day, but those bath oils tend to have that effect.. How do you feel?"

You pause, taking stock of your body. Despite the initial shock of waking, you feel surprisingly refreshed and relaxed. "Good," you say. "Really good, actually."

“Excellent. Now let’s get you ready,” she says, gesturing to a vanity with a guilded mirror. She’s already moved the charcuterie board there next to it. “I’ll take care of your hair and make up while you read over the contract. I can answer any questions, and then you can sign.”

You wonder if you should search the closet for a robe, but Natasha is looking at you expectantly, so you tuck the towel more securely around your chest and hurry to take your seat in front of her. 

The next hour passes in a whirlwind of activity and conversation as you review the document while Natasha sets to work on you. Her fingers move deftly, with skill and precision whether concentrating on your face or your hair. 

The contract before you is extensive, expounding on your role, basic responsibilities, and the various benefits of working for the Winged Heritage Foundation. There is not as much detail as you would like in relation to these aspects of the contract, but you imagine it’s partly to do with not wanting sensitive details in a hard copy and partly because the nature of your working responsibilities may shift as you work personally with the founder and how he best sees you fulfilling the needs that may come up. 

As you read, Natasha answers your questions with patience and clarity.

"What exactly does 'confidentiality extends beyond standard business practices' mean?" you ask, pointing to a clause that catches your eye.

Natasha pauses in her work, meeting your gaze in the mirror. "It means that some of what you'll learn and experience here goes beyond what you might consider typical corporate secrets. We deal with sensitive information that could have far-reaching consequences if it fell into the wrong hands."

You nod slowly, processing this insight. The vagueness of her answer doesn't escape you, but you're beginning to understand and accept that ambiguity is part of the Foundation's nature.

However, there are sections that are covered in the sort of detail that you would expect. The salary and benefits are perfectly outlined, including the wardrobe allowance, dental and healthcare, and investment options. There are sections about the housing benefit, travel expectations, and even a clause about potential relocation if necessary.

"Relocation?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Natasha meets your eyes in the mirror again. "We have facilities in various locations around the world. While it's not common, there may be occasions where your presence is required elsewhere for extended periods if there are affairs Mr. Barnes needs to tend to."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation at the prospect. The idea of travel is appealing, but the thought of being sent away to who knows where is less so. 

You continue reading, occasionally asking for clarification on certain points.

As you near the end of the contract, Natasha puts the finishing touches on your hair and makeup. "There," she says, stepping back to admire her work. "Take a look."

You turn to the mirror and your breath catches. The person staring back at you is both familiar and strangely new. The makeup specifically is subtle yet transformative, enhancing your features in a way that makes you look almost otherworldly.

"Whoa," you breathe, turning your head to see yourself from different angles.

Natasha smiles, clearly pleased with her handiwork. "Perfect," she praises, directly meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you drop your gaze as your stomach flutters unexpectedly. 

“You ready to sign that thing?” she asks, and offers a pen over your shoulder. 

With a deep breath, you take the pen and begin signing your name on the various pages, initialing where necessary. Natasha watches you intently, her expression unreadable. 

As you finish signing the last page, she takes the contract from you and sets it aside. "Congratulations," she says with a smile. "You are now officially part of the Foundation." 

"Thank you," you say sincerely, turning to face Natasha. 

She nods, then reaches into her bag and pulls out a small black box. 

"To celebrate your signing, I have a little gift for you," she says, holding out the box. 

Curiosity piqued, you take the box and open it to find a sleek watch inside. "Wow," you say in awe, running your fingers over its smooth surface.

"It's tradition," Natasha explains. "All new members receive one as a symbol of our time together." 

Your eyes flick to see a watch on her wrist. You brush your finger over the crystal face, noting that aside from the standard dial that tells the time, it has a few other subdials for date, day of the week, and the moon cycle. You smile gratefully at her before putting on the watch on your wrist. It feels like an official initiation into this secretive world. 

“Thank you, again.”

Natasha shrugs one shoulder, but it’s more of a demure gesture than flippant. “It looks good on you.”

You glance at your wrist again, and smile. In the moment of quiet, you register the faint sounds of music, voices, and laughter drifting up from the grounds below, and you look up to notice that one of the windows has been cracked open. A small rush of anticipation surges through you, and you look back to Natasha. 

She’s setting another case on the vanity, and opens it to reveal an exquisite crown of iridescent blue flowers - and you remember seeing them earlier in the day as you toured the gardens. Luna’s Tears. 

“This is for you to wear tonight,” she says, tracing her fingers delicately over the blooms. 

It’s gorgeous, but you frown. “Is that - will everyone -”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Only for you during the ritual, as you are our tribute.”

Your laugh bubbles out, half sarcastic, half nervous. “What, like a sacrifice?”

“Yes and no,” she responds easily. “Technically a sacrifice is something of great personal value you give of yourself, whereas an offering is merely a gift. So I will be offering you up, but you will be sacrificing yourself.”

Your jaw drops. “Sorry, what?” you exclaim. 

And suddenly one word is resounding in your head.

Cult. Cult. Cult.

“During the full moon ritual tonight.”

Cult. Cult. Cult. 

“No.” You shake your head. “No.”

“At midnight, you will be presented as a tribute on the altar to our founder, James Buchanan Barnes. Sacrifice for you, offering from us.”

“I’m not interested in the semantics of your cult!” You stand and start backing away from the redhead, who seems completely unfazed by your reaction. 

“You’re not interested,” she agrees, “you’re fascinated.” 

Cult. Cult. Cult. Cult. Cult.

You shake your head, your chest tightening. She’s not wrong, but she’s not right. 

Cult. Cult.

Natasha takes a step toward you, cautious the way one approaches a spooked animal to soothe it. 

“But I’m not a virgin!” you protest.

You are acutely aware that you’re still only in a towel as she moves closer. 

“That’s archaic rhetoric, actually. We only need an offering who isn’t corrupt.” 

Cult. Cult. Cult.

“You can’t do this! And you can’t keep me here!”

“Technically that’s true, but I think you may want to review the terms and conditions of your contract before you make any rash decisions.”

And with that advice, she pauses her pursuit, and waves you back over to the vanity where you left the contract. 

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether it’s a trap, but you realize this is all a trap, and now you need to know what mistake you made in signing and rush back across the room, clutching the towel to keep it securely around you. You hastily flip to the final page with the terms and conditions and start at the top. 

It spells out that you’re an at-will employee, so you or the Foundation can terminate your employment with or without cause, at any point, with or without notice. 

“This will be a valuable lesson in the importance of being concerned with details and semantics. The item that will make you more amenable to fulfilling your contract is number eight - financial recoupment.”

You hold your breath, eyes darting down the page until you see the bold numeral eight and its subject - FINANCIAL RECOUPMENT. 

If the employee terminates this contract within the first twelve months or fails to adhere to the agreements herein, the employee will be responsible for reimbursing the Winged Heritage Foundation for all costs incurred for employment on their behalf, salary and healthcare costs excluded. 

You tentatively exhale. “Great, I’ll give back the watch, and you can let me go.”

The huff of Natasha’s laugh hits your bare shoulder, and you spin around. She had moved to stand directly being you in complete silence. You back up, bumping up against the edge of the vanity, clutching at the towel again. 

“The watch was a gift, so I won’t take offense, but let’s start with the private car service we arranged to bring you here this morning. Including the tip, it would be an uncomfortable stretch for you to shell out three hundred dollars for that cost, but that’s only the first drop in the deluge. We know your finances from top to bottom because we had our recruitment team working up a comprehensive background file on you for a full week. I’ll pull the specific report on the billable hours anyone who worked on your case spent. Add to that our business lunch on the terrace and the afternoon tea service. I’ll exclude the charcuterie board because that was just a thoughtful gesture after you accepted the position.”

Your eyes start to well with tears as the amounts pile up in a heap you know you can not afford. 

“Then, of course, we decorated and refurnished these living quarters for your immediate habitation, and the closet was fully outfitted with all wardrobe aspects, shoes, and accessories.”

Your mind reels as you try to process the staggering sum you'd be responsible for. The luxurious room, the designer clothes in the closet, even the bath oils and cosmetics- it all takes on a sinister new light. You feel sick as you realize how thoroughly they've ensnared you.

"How… how much?" you manage to choke out.

Natasha's lips curve into a small, satisfied smile. "Let's just say it's well into six figures. Far more than you could hope to repay anytime soon."

You slump against the vanity, your legs suddenly weak. The towel slips, but you barely notice. "This can't be happening," you whisper.

"Oh, but it is," Natasha says, her voice soft but firm. She puts a her hand on your shoulder, a gesture that would be comforting in other circumstances, but not now. 

"I understand this is overwhelming,” she pivots, her voice almost sympathetic. “But remember, you sought us out. You pursued this opportunity aggressively and enthusiastically. Four interviews and now, here you are."

You shake your head, desperately trying to clear it. "But I didn't know… I mean, I never agreed to…"

"Didn't you?" Natasha interrupts gently. "We've been quite open about our unconventional nature from the start. You were intrigued by the mystery, drawn to the power, prestige, and opportunity. I said you would be working directly with our founder. And now you're balking at the reality?"

Her words sting because there's truth in them. You had been fascinated, had pushed to be the most competitive and attractive candidate you could, wanting them to select you, despite the questions and uncertainty. 

"But I didn't know it was a cult," you protest, your voice cracking. "I didn't agree to be sacrificed."

Natasha sighs, her hand still on your shoulder. "We're not a cult, we're a select group with shared values and goals. And as I explained, you're not being sacrificed in the way you're imagining. This is an honor, a chance to be part of something greater."

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. Natasha's hand remains on your shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles just below your collar bone. Despite everything, her touch is oddly comforting.

"This is a lot to process," she says softly. "But I meant what I said earlier - I have a good feeling about you. You're here for a reason."

You open your eyes and meet her gaze. There's a warmth there, an understanding that catches you off guard.

"What will happen to me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing you won't enjoy, I promise. The ritual is intense, yes, but it's also beautiful. Transformative. You'll be giving yourself over to something greater, becoming part of our us in the deepest sense."

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "What exactly will happen to me?" you press. 

Natasha's expression softens slightly. "You'll be presented to our founder, James Barnes. He'll decide if you're worthy to join our inner circle. If you are, you'll be initiated. If not..." she trails off, leaving the alternative unspoken.

You know you don’t have a choice, but you take in one, two deep breaths, before you answer. 

“Okay,” you agree, resigned to your fate.

“There’s the answer we all want,” she replies. 

NEXT PART: PREPARATION

Sorry for the delay of chapter! I'd left my laptop at work, so I didn't have access to posting the chapter.

Thoughts? Theories? Reactions to a pretty big revelation?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ctheathy]

Representative of Power

Secret History Tails x Reader

NSFW Oneshot

Author's note: I can't believe these fics are the only ones I somehow manage to finish, I swear ☠️ I'm gonna have to get my motivation going again.

Potential ⚠️ TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

This is a smut fic, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!SH Tails • Dry humping • Use of the term ‘mommy’ but gender is not specified otherwise • Climax mentioned • Tails being vocal

Tails was so overwhelmed.

He wanted you to be proud of him. But as soon as you turned around to leave and allow him to rest? he couldn’t fight the urge anymore: He needed you. Tails didn’t even hesitate, he just lunged forward out of the bed and pushed his body up against yours, ramming your back into the nearby wall. He wanted to be closer, so much closer... He wanted to know what it felt like to be used. All the time he couldn’t talk to you, was all the time he wanted to touch you...

You couldn't help but let out a gasp as he practically launched himself at you, pinning and cornering you into a wall. But despite your shock, you managed to keep a grin on your face. You raised an eyebrow, letting out a faint laugh as you spoke out to your fox partner, putting your hands on his chest to create a little bit of distance.

“Ah... Do you need anything?”

At that moment, Tails could smell your hair. It smelled very… attractive, and familiar. The mobian’s legs went weak as he was close to you. And especially when you rubbed your thumbs on hi, Tails’ face flushed up. He felt so weak and so comfortable in your presence… As if he could literally die of happiness in your arms.

“More…”

He whispered softly, as his eyes widened while staring at you. He needed more.

“more?” You repeated in a tone of question, cocking your head to the side with your smirk expanding a little. “i'm gonna need you to elaborate, my sweet, sweet boy” Your voice rang through the room along with a snicker, directly confirming that you were playing dumb and hard to get, but you had still tried to keep it cool nonetheless. Your fingertips began teasing the fur on his chest, pressing through the coat and circling around on his hot flesh.

Tails let out a small, but loud moan of pleasure as his body was being massaged by your sneaky fingers. He was so turned on right now. And it was the most confusing sensation to him. He felt so wrong for wanting you right now, but he couldn’t even try to resist.

“More, mommy...” Tails whispered. He wanted you to know how good he felt, especially when he said “mommy.” Resulting in you letting out a little ‘hmm’ for joy, smirking to yourself as you leaned in a little. You stuck out your tongue, placing your arms around his shoulders in order to keep him in place. It was quiet other than his heavy breaths, fogging up the place as he panted like a dog.

Though without warning, you pressed your bottom onto his with how close they were, teasing him even further. “like this~?” you purred out, as you grinded your hips onto his lower half, knowing he couldn't do a damn thing about it. And as expected, he once again let out a loud moan as you grinded your body on him.

You were playing this game with him, and he didn’t want to waste any opportunity he had. And so... he grabbed your hips and pinned you down against the wall, and began moving his hips slowly and rhythmically against yours, all the while biting away at his bottom lip.

“sweetheart, you're grinding on me...” you silently muttered, your free hand traveling towards the back of his head, caressing through his fur and reaching his scalp with your fingertips. You weren't necessarily uncomfortable by this outcome, rather just... amused. You ignored the moan that left him as you looked up from your pinned position. “You're going through... it ...aren't you? Do you need some help? Or are you just gonna dry hump me?”

you questioned with a hint of sarcasm and another snicker, not minding the fox in rut. A loud moan leaving his mouth as he heard your question with the obvious taunt. Your fingernails traced across his head, teasing him in the process as you gave him the exact same cocky grin.

“I don’t need help…”

He whispered in between his moans, feeling so humiliated. You were calling him out on something he was still confused about. Your words were also so teasing and he wanted to get back at you. His eyes were locked onto yours, along with his teeth gritting. He moved his hips even faster, getting desperate with the overwhelming sparks he felt in his lower region.

Which only made you snort in response, raising an eyebrow. “oh? You're trying to tell me that you don't require some help, hmm~?” you spoke out in a tone of sass and doubt as your fingers traced all over his body, now getting him even more bothered on purpose. From his shoulders, to his back, to his chest... You were all over him. And before he knew it, you gave him one single grinding movement of your own once again, allowing the warmth of your hips to get to him. And knowing a hopeless mess like Tails would do anything for the sensation at this point.

The moment you gave him that grinding movement, Tails let out a loud and long moan of pleasure that felt so good... His eyes widened and he took a deep breath in. He then moved his hips up and down rapidly and roughly against yours, and his grunts were loud. His teeth were gritting tightly, but in between the loud grunts he was making, he managed to call out to you.

“I don’t need help…!”

However, he still was looking up at you with those desperate puppy eyes... And your smirk just grew a little at that as you backed up, shrugging before you put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards. “If you say so~”

You spoke out in a careless manner, before you yanked his hands off of you. “have fun with your itty bitty problem on your own then. Since you don't need help” your words being cold yet sly, which noticeably made him let out a pathetic growl in response. It were his words, not yours. He'd have to choose between his pride or you.

Tails was so turned on right now, that for a moment he started to get angry. But he couldn’t stay angry with you for too long. He was simply… overwhelmed by his love and lust. And he also still wanted to make you proud, so he simply…

Swallows his pride.

He went to you with a more gentle approach as he laid his head on your shoulder, and spoke softly.

“I need you to help me… mommy…”

This was it. Your shit eating grin reappeared on your face but there was also a hint of softness to it. You were practically melting. You leaned in with your head to the point you were right near him. You blew into his ear and he could feel the warmth of your breath on him, along with hearing a small giggle of amusement. Your free hand went over to caress the back of his neck, moving it up and down as you looked at him with prying eyes

“aww...~ good boy~” you spoke in your best and sweetest tone yet

Tails couldn’t even take it anymore. His breathing was fast, his heart was pounding, and his face was bright red with the drool leaking down his lips. And as you spoke those sweet words to his ear, he let out a vocal whine of pleasure, with his body just collapsing on your shoulder.

He was ready to beg for more. He didn’t even care about anything anymore. The fox just wanted you... your simple grip on him making him shiver with ease, as you held onto him in order to keep him balanced. And in order to reward him, you deeply pressed your bottom onto his groin area once again, returning the sensation in one go. The heat of your body temperature from down there making it so much more difficult for him to handle. Making it even worse so when you began rubbing yourself up and down on him.

Tails began to feel a heaviness on his pelvis... And the moment he felt it, he completely lost himself, he couldn’t handle it anymore. All the priority to keep his pride in check going straight out of the window. You could notice him getting wetter and wetter as time went on, indicating that he was close... feeling his fluids going right through your clothing, along with him becoming more whiny... more needy for anything. With him becoming especially vocal by you gently trying to ease him into it.

“You're doing so well, sweetheart...~” you complimented with a grin, before you sped up the pace of grinding your crotch against his. Keeping a steady grip on him and making sure he wouldn't fall onto the floor just like that, allowing him to rest on your body. You guided his head towards your chest as you put your chin onto his head, flattening his bangs. All while continuing to thrust your hips onto him, making him completely soak.

Tails rested his imbalance on your body, his face buried in your cleavage. He couldn’t handle how soft you were, it felt so amazing... And as you started to thrust your hips onto his, his body went weak, and he just started to moan and drool. He wanted this so much… But, he was getting so close to the limit, so he was holding back as much as he could.

But you were not having that... Making him gasp out and whimper as you grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up at you. You pressed your thumb on his chapped lips, making him let out yet another small moan.

“Shh...~ it's okay, sweetie. Will you release your tension for mommy~?” you murmured, keeping his groin pressed up against you and making him shake in his boots. Making a desperate attempt to make small rubbing motions on your body, but you sure kept him in line. And it was clear your plan was working with how moist he was getting himself, his fur now all sticky and wet...

He was so close, he couldn’t resist it anymore. He pressed his legs together as the warm feeling of you was beginning to make his body reach its peak. And he was so sensitive down there, and the wetness… Oh, God. It was so pleasureable. And just like that… he gave in.

“M…m…” He was so shy… “Mommy...” He whispered in a muffled voice, trying to hide his face in your chest. “good boy...~” you just gave him that last tiny push as you held him by his rump, before grinding him on you instead of the other way around. Pushing him against you deeply as you thrusted back in return, creating an even higher sensation than before. The two were like two connected puzzle pieces, and you knew this was really the last thing he'd need before releasing...

And as soon as you made your move, his eyes widened, and he started moaning really loud. His legs went weak, and he started kicking and trembling a little. He still tried to hold back, but, he couldn’t any longer: all his energy got drained immediately as his eyes rolled back, and he started to melt… like a mess. His fluids began to drip.

And as he did, his whole body went slack. You could literally see him go from mischievous and proud to weak and submissive. His body went all soft, and he melted all over you. The mess of fluids that dripped from the two of you was just… so perfect. He couldn’t even speak. He literally lost all of his words as he laid in shame.

Tails would do anything for you...

You gave a huge grin as he came undone and laid out like it was the end of the world. You took a tiny step back but made sure to still hold onto him so he wouldn't collapse, giving his arms a tiny squeeze. He was an absolute wreck. Tears were pouring down his face, with sweat stains visible, and drool was leaking out of the corners of his mouth. And don't even get me started on the festival down there. He looked like he just stepped out of a pond. And this only made it better for you.

Your little fingers massaged over his arms as you pampered him by giving these little kisses all over his face, seemingly not grossed out by the bodily fluids on his face. You even went out and gave him a smooch right on his mouth, allowing his leaking saliva to enter yours.

Tails was just so… humiliated. But he was so used to you having power over him in these private situations. He felt so much shame, but he felt so much love for you, simultaneously. Because you were the one who made him feel this way. And he knew he loved that. So… he was so glad that you found pleasure in his desperation. His body felt the best it ever did. He wasn’t just dripping, he was flowing. And he was completely yours... but...

You didn't seem to be done.

Right before he even got to say anything, you now pushed him against the wall instead, not allowing him the slightest bit of space. You balanced on one of your feet as you tilted up your other leg, right before pressing your knee right onto him again, almost making him choke and gasp out for air once again. Slowly beginning to give more pressure down there.

His legs immediately folded under him as you pushed your knee against his groin. Tails’ whole body went limp, his eyes rolling slightly. His eyes were locked onto your, and he could feel his mouth watering. Your grip on him increased, and he looked like you were playing with him. This time he wouldn’t be able to resist any of this… And he’d be your little pet again. This was just the beginning.

Your mouth went up to his throat as your teeth nipped him, taking his skin in between your side teeth right before letting it slip again, teasing him. Your weight leaned on him as you got into his personal space, the pressure of your knee making him feel turned on again... making him just as sensitive as before while you pressed him in between yourself and the wall, feeling his previous release drip down from your clothing.

You were so careful and gentle with both his mind and body. Tails being all wet like before, then you simply nibbling on his neck and then the heat of your body making him feel so relaxed, he felt like your own little toy. And he loved the fact that he belonged to you. The amount of pleasure he could feel… was unmatched. His hips began to move ever so slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

The fact that he was trying to grind himself against you again was honestly one of the most pathetic sights you've ever witnessed, but you didn't mind. In fact, you were willing to give him a little gift for being so good before. You stood on your tippy toes and went over towards his ear, your breath audible to his senses making his twitch. You gave him one single grinding movement before stopping and whispering something in his ear..

“Go all out with your rut, my little beast~ I'm all yours~” you purred with a chuckle, giving him permission to what he wanted as you began biting at his left ear. You were still gonna take the lead, but you wanted to see just how much he'd do when given the chance to. How much control he'd lose over himself...

Just the feeling of permission from you was so strong for Tails. The moment you blew your breath against his ear, he couldn’t help but moan a little. And that was when he truly started to turn savage with his movements. His body became aggressive and animalistic. He started to moan and pant and he started to thrust rapidly and rough against you. This wasn’t just about him anymore though… It was about him and you. And you held complete control.

You had never heard the boy so vocal before, but you found amusement in how he was practically behaving like a wild animal for you. The mobian had no filter left anymore. Despite your silence in the duration of the act, the desperation on his face and the inhuman noises he was releasing made it much more enjoyable than you thought it would.

You both knew you were absolutely dominating over him the whole time he was going crazy on you, but the feelings he felt… were completely mutual. But at this point, his need to give you the satisfaction felt so strong that he was just giving into you completely. Tails started to cry out loudly with tears running down his face, and not caring that this made it even more arousing for you. He wanted to do everything for you.

And he was basically a vivid representation for your power over him.

[moderninfatuation]

I am totally interested in seeing how you write Leon Kennedy and Luis Serra (my two favorite male characters of the RE universe), but I don't think I can provide any interesting prompts. The most I can think of, right now, is either of those characters and how they would survive the apocalypse with the reader. But, that's a bit vague. Uhm, is Leon Kennedy meeting up with a scientist reader who's dedicated to finding a cure an interesting prompt? (Probably not, huh?) Or Luis Serra surviving with a reader who's holding him captive for some reason (like a reader that gives Ada wong vibes?)?

note: hello :) I do find your prompts interesting, but now I need to make sure I do your favorites justice >< let me know what you think! I definitely think I could describe the actual interaction between you and the characters more, but it always takes me so long to get to, so i might make just have to make a second part

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Scientist!Reader with Leon and Agent!Reader with Luis

characters: Leon S. Kennedy and Luis Sera, seperate

tags: sfw, agent!reader, scientist!reader, gn!reader, kidnapping, references to drugging

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Leon & Scientist!Reader

Finding a cure for anything within current times is hard, of course. If anyone is intelligent enough to realize that, it’s probably you. Once a junior scientist held in high esteem by one of the bigger pharmaceutical companies in the area, you’re now forced to dig through the rubble of what was once lined up office spaces and laboratories, the logo of the company you worked for looming over you from what is left of the buildings as if it were threatening to crash down on you one day. That doesn’t stop you from trying, however, much to the dismay of most of the people who used to be your higher ups. You feel like there is constantly someone on your back, just waiting for you to be careless so they can strike down your attempts to help - that is all you wanted to do, but it seems as if right now, helping earns you more enemies than it does allies.

Leon is among the very few individuals you trust enough to tag along. He found you, crawling through what was once a cooling room, the glass of what used to be syringes and test tubes crackling below your weight as you scour for anything that could be of use later. The place was positively trashed as the scene was fled just a few months ago during the initial outbreak, but you decided to come back anyway, always on the lookout for anything that moves and anything that breathes. You nearly passed out from the shock when suddenly, Leon stood behind you, telling you to raise your hands while you could only hear his heavy boots on the tiled floor and the click of his safety catch. It made the hairs on your nape stand.

It used to be a little hard to get a proper read on Leon. He was quiet at first, too busy keeping an eye on your surroundings as well as you while he was escorting you out of the building. What if you were infected after all? What if it is just an elaborate trap to get him out of the picture? There was always a shadow of suspicion following him around. However, you get it. They’re out to get you once you’ve seen too much, and you and Leon perfectly fit the picture. It gets easier to spend time around each other once the both of you let the realization sink in.

Ever since, you’re a duo like no other. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a grown ass man, you’d say he’s attached to your hip; like a gun ready to be pulled when you’re in a tight spot. That is most he does when he follows you, actually: showing off his combat skills when it gets dicey. You’re thankful, of course, but you also managed to do it just fine on your own… or at least, that’s what you’d like to say. Truth is, you almost got your head crushed one or two times in the past because you were too focused on a gleam coming from a crack too tiny to put your arm in than on the dangerously tipped storage cabinet barely supported by said crack. Leon is just the guy for the job: holding up furniture, fighting off the infected, hell, ever since he’s warmed up to you, he even likes to joke around, hoping to get a laugh from you despite the differences in humor.

Leon can be stern with you, too. It doesn’t feel right to call it scolding, but he will furrow his brows and tell you to be more careful at even the slightest injury. He also insists on bandaging you up if things get bloody, not letting you do it yourself. If you push and complain hard enough, all he’ll do is raise his eyebrows in surprise, hold up his hands defensively and take a few steps back to let you do your thing - and to partially to keep himself from raising his voice. He would usually follow it up with a little quip too, just to defuse the tension, but also to see your reaction. His smug expression betrays him right before he drops the dreaded “Right, you’re the doctor-” before you have to remind him for what feels like the hundredth time that you’re not a doctor, as if the lack of a doctorate still matters now.

While he doesn’t know much about “science-stuff”, as he calls it, Leon knows enough to join the conversation. He likes to join you at your desk, asking questions and pointing at your equipment in the dark of the night, only illuminated by the wiry desk lamp and occasionally his flashlight when he gets bored. There have been times he fell asleep right next to you, too, snoring softly with his head hanging low and his lips slightly parted. He smiles gently and congratulates you with friendly shoulder bumps and pats on your back whenever you’ve made a new breakthrough or discovery in your research. His support is the most valuable you could get right now, especially since he’s competent enough to go out and get more supplies for you without, well, dying along the way. You have found your own kind of normalcy as the city around you gets rebuilt over time, a cure closer than it seems thanks to your sleepless nights and Leon’s eagerness to help. 

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Luis & Agent!Reader

You decided to take the harder path in life, it seems, but it was never really a decision, per se. You’re merely a product of your surroundings and circumstances… but it certainly was a decision when you took on your very first job to steal. It could just be a one time thing, right? A swipe of your hand when nobody seemed to look in exchange for cash that’s worth twice the amount of whatever you have to take. Your career took a dark turn once you realized that there is no coming back from the downward spiral that becomes clearer as your jobs go from theft to smuggling to assassination. So, the only solution is to keep going, to keep your head up high and to not look back. Let the paycheck distract you.

A new job you had the pleasure of coming across is significantly more risqué, but also rewarding like no other. Your enigmatic new ‘employer’, if you could even call it that, sends you out to kidnap someone in exchange for protection. Not a first, exactly, but something tells you this is much more serious than your previous jobs. Now here you are, brushing the dust from the abandoned factory building’s roof off of your shoulder as ex-Umbrella scientist Luis Sera sits in front of you, struggling against the bindings supposed to keep him still while the empty potato sack obscuring his vision muffles his grunts. Not his first kidnapping, judging by the way he doesn’t even try to call and scream for help.

Luis groans in confusion as his brain slowly recovers from the Rohypnol you used to make him pliant and easy to carry. His eyes get adjusted to the spotlight shining directly at him, and for a second, the both of you make eye contact. You step out of the way before the laptop you set up takes a picture of your newest (and only) captive, ready to send it to your boss. “Mierda…” is all you hear from Luis for a long time, slurred as he immediately looks around for any means of escape. Yes, this guy definitely has experience. But why him? Upon first look, he just looks like any other biologist you had to sneak past. Lab coat, eye rings, the stubble that comes once self care becomes luxury in the face of deadlines.

You’re quick to find out that Luis is talkative, effectively destroying one of the very few scientist stereotypes you were aware of. Some people talk just to calm their nerves, but if he does it for that reason, he’s very skilled at keeping up the facade of extroversion. Some attempts of “Care to tell me where we are?” followed by a quiet “Eh, not the talking type, I see…” before he goes silent again for… what, 5 minutes? You almost regret pulling the potato sack from his head. He even asks for a cigarette at some point, to which you scoff in reply.

Hours pass as you realize that you’re not here to scare him or to “get him out of the picture”, so to speak - you’re on a mission to hide him. You aren’t given more details by your boss, except that you should probably keep Luis tied up. You’re more open to conversation now that you know you’re stuck with him for… unspecified time. Once you give him some input on the current situation, leaning onto the shoddy table behind you to get comfortable, you see him relax visibly. “Ahh, so you can talk! Was getting afraid we didn’t speak the same language.” he teases, a smug expression decorating his face now. He seems like an entirely different person now. And the worst part? He sees right through you, despite your attempts to remain calm and quiet. “I’m starting to feel like I know more about this situation than you do…” The hint is all he needs to earn himself a glare over your shoulder as you hope for further instructions appearing on the screen in front of you.

Your hands are less than gentle after an hour of convincing that he won’t run off leads to you cutting open his bindings. “Thank you.” Is all he mumbles before standing up, idly wiping his thighs and stretching his legs. It isn’t exactly professional to deny the orders given to you, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to initiate fist fights. He runs circles in the small room, patting his jacket for a lighter and his pants for the cigarettes to match before lighting himself one, exhaling smoke into the cold air surrounding you. The evening continues like that. You can’t help but be… charmed by him and the way he hums to himself as well as by his useless attempts at conversation with you. He occasionally looks over your shoulder, nagging you with a “There’s a far more efficient way to use-” as he reaches out for your keyboard while you can only watch and rest. It’s not like he’s checking your messages or anything, right? Occasionally he wanders off too far, followed by the noise of metal on metal and the shuffling of feet as he explores the building, only to find his way back to you.

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