#now let's get to work...start those gears & do some actual work

[afternoonblues]

enjoying reading academic journals & books is a different kind of joy especially when it's a subject you enjoy dwelling in ya'know

[lillianh2]

My Woman

Jenna Ortega x Fem G!P SMUT!!!

18+ only

"baby?" jenna called as she walked into your shared apartment. you both recently moved in together, with both of your careers taking off to an amazing start, you wanted to finally live together after dating for almost three years.

"i'm in the kitchen, my love!" you say back to her as your finishing up cleaning the dishes from the night before. both of you being to tired after diner to clean up, you saved it for the next day.

you smile when you hear soft steps enter the kitchen behind you, "there's my woman.." you say as you turn around with a grin, walking over to the shorter girl and softly grasp her face.

"and there's my baby, i missed you-" she cuts off her sentence to lean into you closer, "and fuck you smell good honey." she then wraps her arms around your toned torso while leaning in to place soft but firm kisses to your jaw line.

you giggle softly while rubbing your hands along the small of her back and let them slide lower while kissing her temple sweetly, " i knew you'd like the new perfume, got it today actually" you say while smiling and rubbing the soft of her ass, she moans lightly in your neck, still placing kisses but more wetter as she begins to slightly nibble on your sweet spot, only her knowing where it truly is. which is the only way you'd want it.

with a teasing push away, you peck her forehead and grab her hand, dragging her towards the front door, "babeeeeee, what are you doing?" she asks while whining with her head thrown back slightly, you laugh at her actions and grab the keys to your bike and drag her out the door and to the elevator down the hall.

once inside, jenna stands against you as she always needs to be touching you in some way. you love it though. she's your baby doll. you side eye her with a smile as she's still waiting for your response. "what's the pouty face for?" you ask softly, grabbing her hand and holding it firmly.

"i just wanna kiss you and hold you all night in bed, but you're dragging me outside!" she giggles while looking up at you with those pretty brown doe eyes that make you weak in the knees every damn time. you can't help how adorable she is, her hair a little messy from her long day on set, and her plump lips you've yet to kiss, speaking of.

you grab her jaw lightly and bring her lips to hers without another word, her lips move against yours instantly and you smile inside knowing she's pleased with your action. while you're kissing, you rub your thumb along her jawline and begin to lick at her bottom lip, her gladly letting you enter as you two begin kissing harder

"i love you," she moans softly, she's definitely needy today. little does she know you'll take care of that soon, you respond back, then kiss at her jaw.

"at this point just fuck me here, please" she teases lightly, you lift up to look her in the eyes, but before you can say anything, you hear a ding "ah we've arrived, my love." you giggle with a wink, grabbing her hand and walking out.

once you're in the garage you find your bike and get on while helping jenna as well. waiting for her to wrap her arms around you, making sure she has all her gear on, you slowly leave and head off to the road.

while driving, you're plan is just to go to the grocery store to grab some ice cream for you and jenna. you knew she had a long tiring day, so you wanted to have a movie tonight to try and help her relax for the evening. she's been working long hours and you are so proud of her, but she does need her rest. while at a red light, jenna starts to lower one of her hands to rest on the muscle of your thigh.

"baby.." you say as she begins to edge her hand painfully slowly to your crotch. your grip the handles a little tighter than before as she begins to slowly rub your shaft through your jeans. "mmm, i want you so bad, i rather ride you than this bike, honey" she says through your earpiece, then she softly grips your dick since it's hard now, and she continues her torture as the light turns green.

"jenna, please.." you softly whimper as you turn into the grocery parking lot, her hand now back to being wrapped around your waist as before. like nothing ever happened. yeah you were the top in the relationship but she could easily touch you a certain way or say the right words, making you melt in her palm each time.

"seems you're a bit excited, babe." she says while getting off the bike as she looks down at the print in your jeans from her past action, you groan while standing to adjust your pants. failing in making them more comfortable. " yeah so funny. i'm actually leaving you here" you joke as you begin to walk away, but not long as you feel her jump on your back effortlessly, you naturally grabbing at her thighs to hold her there.

"you would never to such a thing.." she whispered in your ear, then kissing your cheek as you playfully rolled your eyes and carried her into the store.

once you sat her down you began to find the frozen section in hopes of finding her favorite ice cream. after telling her about it on the way in, she was beaming like a little girl thinking about her ice cream. standing at the frozen section you scan through and find the butter pecan, per her request of course, and look to see jenna staring cutely at a little girl in the cart, who was smiling at jenna. she begins to wave at the child and she blows kisses back to her. you place your hand on her waist and smile at the interaction.

" she's so adorable, look at her darling," she says to you as she lays her hand on your chest and you smile over at the girl, waving back to her since she did to you. "that she is, maybe we can have us a baby one day. yeah?" you say while starting to walk to the check out. she smiles brightly and hugs your side to her body.

"of course we are! god, a mini you would be so. fucking. cute. and perfect. " she exclaims, you toss your head back with a laugh, " oh yeah? what about we just have one right now?" you say to your girlfriend...

back at your house....

soft moans and the sound of wet skin slapping against the other was heard through the house. you pounding into jenna while hovering over her, your back muscles flex hard under her black nails that have left scratches along your back from your long cock that you're stuffing her soaking pussy with. "fuck baby, you're so fucking tight and wet, damn this pussy" you grunt as you bite at her neck, her moaning in your and the feeling of her hot walls rubbing against your dick perfectly as they always have. you loved her. all of her, and making love to her was never boring. it was better each time, if even possible.

" mmm yes, right there! oh shit, fuck- fuck, i'm gonna cum y/n" she moans loudly, scratching at your shoulders while her legs are tight around your waist and with each thrust of your cock, you can feel her clenching repeatedly around you, knowing she's close. your mouth open slightly, you look down at her with hooded eyes as you begin to fuck into her faster.

"cum with me, jenna. take my baby, i wanna cum all inside this pussy, all in it" you groan, asking her permission silently, she nods " please cum in me. i need your baby, give it to me, please, please, oh fuck-" she moans loudly as you slam into her hips, your cum spurting into her already drenched pussy, she catches her breath as she closes her eyes to take in the feeling of your cum leaking inside her "you okay baby?" you softly ask, kissing her forehead as you're still cumming a little inside her. she hums happily, eyes still closed as the runs her hands through your messy hair, you kiss her soft lips.

slowly pulling out, your cum spilling a little, you look down with a smile and then return to see jenna already looking at you. "i love you so much. whatever happens i trust you and i wanna spend forever with you" she says with a serious face but loving smile. you smile back and kiss her forehead before laying behind her to cuddle her against you. she places her hand in yours, intertwining them as you kiss her naked shoulder and say, "i love you more jenna" and soon after too both fall asleep in the comfort of each others arms.

an: first post on here, lmk if it was trash

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers!

Can I please request a fluffy enemies to lovers with a clone of your choice with the prompt “Did you just call me cute?”

Would love to see any! Female reader if possible. Thanks! 💓

Up Close and Personal 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 3.9k

prompt:

• “Did just call me cute?”

Plot: When you accidentally let slip you thought Fox was cute, he grows curious and wonders if you still think the same under the helmet.

Warnings: Safe for work, grumpy/sunshine trope, teasing, awkward moments, flirting, kissing, mutual pining, accidental confessions.

You’ve been working alongside the Coruscant Guard for a while now, handling everything from delivering reports to managing routine tasks that help keep the operation running smoothly. Most of the clones greet you with a warm smile and friendly chatter when you drop by.

You were cheerful and always had a smile on your face, nothing ever seeming to phase you.

But when it comes to Commander Fox, he doesn’t seem to match your enthusiasm. Where others find a moment to chat or joke around, Fox’s response is always the same: curt and dismissive.

You remember one time when you entered the office, probably a fortnight ago, laughing with Thire and Stone as you handed them their files. “You’re a lifesaver,” Thire had said with a sigh of relief and grin after his had miraculously gone missing. You of course always had extra, just in case.

Stone chuckled and added, “You’re the only reason we stay organised.”

Before you could reply, however, Fox cut in. His tone like durasteel. “Can you just leave the files and go? Some of us are trying to work.” He hadn’t even looked up, but the chill in his voice was unmistakable. You forced a smile, and rolled your eyes at his attitude when you left the office that day. It didn’t bother you as you were used to his moods but you couldn’t help wondering what it would take to get past that fickle exterior.

And despite his attitude, you had noticed Fox’s subtle care for his brothers; something you found rather endearing. You’ve caught him running silent armour checks, making sure everyone’s gear is spotless and in perfect order. Of course, it’s not about vanity but simply about keeping his men safe.

It’s those types of moments that make you think there’s more to him beneath the mask. Or helmet in this case.

Today, you decide to do something different. Rumors have been swirling that the Guard’s workload has been overwhelming lately. Crime in the lower levels is on the rise, and the boys are sadly running themselves ragged. So, you arrive at their station with a special treat: caf orders, each customised exactly how you know they like it.

You start with Commander Thire, who breaks into a grin as you hand him his cup. “You’re too good to us,” he says, taking a sip. “Thanks.”

Next is Stone, who raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Didn’t expect this today,” he says, taking the steaming cup. “But I’m not complaining.” He shoots you a wink. “You really know how to keep morale up.”

Sergeant Hound, busy tinkering with his gear with Grizzer snoozing at his feet looks up with a smile when you hand him his drink. “You actually remembered mine,” he says, sounding almost impressed. He takes a long sip before giving you a small nod. “Cheers. Really needed this.”

Finally, you approach Fox. He’s leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, watching you carefully through his visor. “I’ll assume you didn’t get me anything,” he says, voice as flat as ever.

You fight back a smirk and meet his gaze behind the visor. “You assume wrong, Commander.” You slide the cup across his desk. It’s strong, with a hint of sweetness—your best guess based on what you’ve observed. Alongside it, you place a small sweet treat and the stack of data devices you’ve been carrying. Oh, and you also could help but draw a small smiley face on the lid to his cup.

Fox doesn’t touch the drink. Instead, he gives a sharp nod. “Just leave it and go.”

You swallow your disappointment, trying to keep your smile from faltering. “Of course, sir.” You turn to leave, the brief flash of hurt lingering despite your best efforts to shrug it off. Huh, maybe it did get to you.

As you exit, you catch a glimpse of Thire, Stone, and Hound exchanging looks before Thire’s voice cuts through the room. “You know, Fox, a ‘thank you’ wouldn’t kill you.”

Fox remains silent, but you don’t stay long enough to see or hear his reaction. The door closes behind you, and you let out a quiet sigh.

Moments later, you hear quick footsteps behind you. “Hey, wait up!”

You turn to see Thire jogging to catch up. “Don’t take it personally,” he says, offering a sympathetic smile. “Fox is… well, Fox. If he didn’t like you at least a little, he wouldn’t let you stick around.”

You laugh softly, though the sting hasn’t fully faded. “Doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I know he’s under a lot of stress, but still…”

Thire nods, understanding in his eyes. “He’s got a funny way of showing appreciation. But trust me, we all see what you do for us, even if he doesn’t say it. You’re a bright spot in this whole mess.”

Your smile this time is more genuine, though still a bit weak. “Thanks, Thire. I just wish I could get through to him, you know?”

“Give it time,” Thire says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll come around. Until then, we’ve got your back.”

A few days later, you arrive with—surprise, surprise—yet another stack of files. You expect to find the usual group in the office, and sure enough, Thire, Stone, and Hound are all at their stations, busy with their tasks. But there’s one notable absence: Commander Fox. You glance around, scanning the room in curiosity.

Before you can ask, Stone notices the way you’re searching and smirks. “Looking for someone?”

Your cheeks warm slightly, realising you’ve been caught. “Nope,” you reply, a little too quickly. “Just… making sure I don’t miss anyone.”

Thire chimes in, an amused glint in his eye. “Sure, that’s what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes playfully, trying to play it off. “Honestly, you guys are worse than all those gossiping cadets and shinies.”

“Did Fox ever apologise for the other day?” Hound asks as you stand nearby, shifting through some flimsi. His question surprised you a little since you hadn’t truly thought about it until now. But, you shake your head with a dismissive wave. “Nah, but it’s fine. I’m used to him being a grump. Besides,” you add with a smile, “you lot make it worth coming around.”

But then Stone started to dig a little deeper as he leans back in his chair. “Did you think about what Thire said? About Fox not minding you hanging around?”

You bite your lip, remembering Thire’s words all too well. Now that did have you wondering for most of that night. For someone who always wanted you to go, he never actually told you to fully leave.

“Yeah, actually. It got me thinking… maybe he’s not as bothered by me as he pretends.” You pause, considering your next question. “Hey, have any of you actually seen him without his helmet?”

The three of them exchange glances before Thire nods, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “How do you think he downed that caf you brought him the other day?”

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed as you think it over but also a little smug knowing that Fox clearly liked your drink choice for him. “I always wondered what he looks like under there. Maybe he’s got some cool tattoos, or, like, bright red hair or something; to match the gear.”

Stone shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. “Could do. But we’re not spilling anything.”

You narrow your eyes at them playfully, but before you can push further, you find yourself blurting out, “I mean, I bet he’s kinda cute.”

There’s a beat of silence before all three of them break into laughter. Hound gives you a teasing nudge. “So, you’ve got a crush on the boss now, huh?”

You wave them off, feeling your face flush. “No, I mean—well, no, yes, kinda? I don’t know!” You fumble with your words, realising you’ve put yourself in an awkward spot. You wouldn’t say it was much of a crush but you did admire him.

“It’s not like that. He’s just interesting, I guess. Annoying, but in a weird way, it’s kind of… cute?”

The boys exchange amused glances, and you’re about to defend yourself further when you notice all of their gazes suddenly lock onto something—or someone—behind you. The laughter dies down, and your stomach drops.

Before you can even turn around, a deep voice rumbles from directly behind you. “Did you just call me cute?”

You freeze, feeling your blood run cold. Slowly, you turn to face Fox, who’s standing there with his arms crossed, his helmeted visor trained directly on you. You can’t tell what expression he’s wearing underneath, but the deadpan delivery of his question makes you want to disappear into the nearest ventilation system.

“I—uh…” you stammer, utterly at a loss. “Well, you see—”

Thire, Stone, and Hound are barely holding in their snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Fox’s posture remains unyielding as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

You finally manage a weak shrug. “I mean sure, why not?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, and you’re certain you’ll never live this down. But then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, Fox turns his helmet slightly as if considering your words. “Interesting,” is all he says before he strides past you, not giving anything away.

The room erupts in laughter as soon as he’s out of earshot, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning, as Thire claps you on the back. “Well, if that’s not a confession, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Stone grins. “Nope. But hey, at least now you’ve got him wondering.”

You playfully slap Stone’s arm with the thick stack of flimsi you were holding. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you tease, but there’s a grin on your face despite your embarrassment.

Stone just chuckles, dodging away from your reach. “You make it too easy, kid.”

Shaking your head, you wave the guys off. “Okay, I’m leaving before I say anything else stupid. You’ll just have to survive without me for a bit.”

As you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, and although your cheeks are still warm, you can’t help but smile.

Over the next week or two, you notice that Fox isn’t in his office as much. You’re not one to pry, but eventually, Thire lets it slip that it’s the Supreme Chancellor who’s been keeping him busy, not the fact that he might be avoiding you. “He’s been running all over the place on Palpatine’s orders,” Thire had said. “Trust me, it’s not about feeling awkward with you around.”

You nod, but you can’t help the nagging thoughts that linger. Still, you push them aside, deciding it’s better not to dwell on it.

One afternoon, you arrive at the office, balancing a tray with the usual caf orders and some sweet treats. It’s become a bit of a weekly ritual now, something the guys seem to look forward to. But today, when you step inside, the office is eerily quiet—no Thire, no Stone, no Hound. And non-surprisingly, no Fox.

You frown, setting the tray down on the nearest desk. “Hello?” you call out, but the only response is the hum of the overhead lights.

Shrugging, you decide to leave everything on their desks for when they return. You place each clone’s drink down, making sure their reports are organised alongside them.

When you reach Fox’s desk, you pause. It’s a bit messier than usual, the clutter showing signs of someone who’s been overworked and stretched thin. Your brows furrow in concern as you instinctively start tidying up, sorting the files and stacking the more urgent ones on top.

As you organise his drawers, you’re about to close one when something catches your eye. An empty caf cup, tucked away almost like it’s been hidden. You pull it out and recognise it immediately—it’s the cup you gave Fox the other week, the one with the little smiley face you drew on the lid. Your heart skips a beat. He kept it.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the cup, a small, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe there’s more to his gruff exterior than you first thought. Maybe he does have a soft spot for you, even if he won’t admit it.

“Can I help you?”

You jump, nearly dropping the cup as you whirl around to face the door. There stands Fox, his arms tucked behind his back, his gaze unreadable behind his helmet.

“Fox—Commander!” you stammer, hastily shoving the cup back into the drawer and closing it. “I was just… fixing things.” Your voice trails off as you awkwardly step away from his desk, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, and you feel your pulse quicken. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

“Oh! Sure, of course!” You’re flustered now, your mind racing. “Is it about the reports? Or maybe the supply request? Or—”

“No.”

You clamp your mouth shut, cheeks burning as you mentally curse yourself for rambling. You stand there in silence, waiting for him to continue, while he circles around you with the careful precision of someone used to keeping others off balance. His presence is commanding (oh the irony), making the room feel smaller as he closes the distance between you.

“I had overheard something the other day,” he says, his voice low, almost conversational. “You were wondering what I looked like. Wondering if I had tattoos, colorful hair…” He trails off, his tone giving nothing away.

“I—uh—well, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious, you know? I hope you didn’t take offense, Commander. It wasn’t—”

He stops in front of you, so close now that you can see your own reflection in the dark visor of his helmet as you crane your neck to look at him. “Why not?” he asks, cutting off your nervous rambling. “Do you not want to know if I’m ‘cute’ or not?”

The words hang in the air between you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His tone isn’t mocking, but there’s a subtle challenge in his voice, as if daring you to admit something you haven’t even fully acknowledged to yourself.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, searching for a response. “I—I mean… maybe?”

His head tilts slightly, as if studying you. “You know, I rarely remove my helmet. It’s part of who I am, part of the uniform. Most people never see what’s underneath.”

“I get it,” you say quickly, eager to reassure him. “It’s not like I need to know. You’re still you, helmet or not.”

But as you speak, he moves closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And yet, you’re curious.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his visor, the tension thick enough to cut through. “Maybe a little,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

You think he’s about it leave, a small stagger in his step. But instead of stepping back as you expect, he reaches up and, with a slow and deliberate motion, removes his helmet.

Your breath catches in your throat. You were expecting him to look like the other clones but nothing prepared you for this.

His hair, salt and peppered with a few streaks of silver, is slightly messy but still shows a hint of soft curls. Framing his face in a way that’s both rugged and refined. But it’s his eyes that catch your immediate attention.

A deep, rich brown, just like his brothers but darkened by exhaustion. Yet somehow still smolder with an intensity that makes your heart stop. They’re striking, alive with an alluring warmth that makes it hard to look away.

You’re utterly speechless, barely registering that your mouth has gone dry. He’s not just cute; he’s absolutely gorgeous. His lips curve into a knowing smirk as he tilts his head at you, clearly gauging your reaction.

“So, tell me…” he drawls, his tone soft and low as he notices your gaze drifting to his lips, “how ‘cute’ am I?”

Your mouth opens, but the words you want to say get stuck somewhere in your throat. You feel a sudden heat rising to your cheeks and creeping down your neck, making you feel warm under the collar. For months, you had wondered what it would be like to be this close to him, to hear his voice without the filter of that helmet, to feel his presence in an almost tangible way. Now, with his breath fanning your face, it’s almost overwhelming.

“You’re… you’re…” You struggle to find the right words, but everything comes out in stutters as your brain short-circuits under the intensity of his gaze.

Fox leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips still curved in that teasing smirk. “Mhmm? I’m what?” There’s a playful and teasing lilt in his voice as he inches nearer, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become.

Before you know it, you’ve backed up until you’re nearly pressed against the edge of his desk; close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and it’s impossible to think straight. Your pulse feels like it’s pounding in your ears. Especially as he leans in even further, the distance between you shrinking until it’s nearly nonexistent.

His breath is warm against your skin as he adds, “Come on, I’m waiting. You were so curious before. For someone so chatty, you have gone awfully quiet. Why’s that?”

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but the only thing you can focus on is how close he is, how those deep brown eyes are watching your every reaction, and how his lips look infuriatingly soft. Finally, you manage to stammer out a broken, barely coherent, “You’re… more than cute.”

Fox chuckles as he straightens slightly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good answer.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, brushing a hand through your hair, thinking this is the end of it. But he barely budges before asking, “Do you want to know what I think about you?”

Breath shaky, you avoid his eyes. “Let me guess… annoying… too talkative…”

“Distracting,” he cuts you off.

Before you can respond, his hands lift, gently cupping your face. You’re caught off guard as his thumbs brush tenderly over your cheeks. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the unexpected warmth of his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into it. His presence is all-consuming, his closeness dizzying as his nose lightly brushes against yours, sending sparks dancing down your spine.

His voice is low, rich with a sincerity that makes your heart race even faster. “I find you distracting. Beautiful and distracting.”

Before you can fully process his words, his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s impossibly gentle and utterly intoxicating.

It’s slow and unhurried, his lips moving against yours in a way that feels both tender and deliberate. Your eyes widen in surprise at first, hands raised but unsure where to place them.

Fox was kissing you. the Commander Fox was kissing you. You didn’t even know what this meant fully. Had he been harbouring feelings for you after all this time?

The initial shock soon melts away, your body relaxing into the kiss as your arms instinctively wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The feeling of the warmth of his mouth on yours, the soft press of his lips sending a sweet sent an addictive thrill through your veins. He’s steady and confident, guiding the kiss with a gentleness.

His hands remain on your face, anchoring you to the moment until one slides back to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair that makes you gasp against his lips.

You can’t help but chase after his lips, the slow and tender rhythm of the kiss drawing you in deeper. He’s all you can think about—the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he’s holding you as though you’re something precious.

Fox finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes, those deep, mesmerising brown orbs, search yours as if he’s looking for something—confirmation, maybe, or understanding. You’re not sure, but whatever he sees in your gaze seems to settle something inside him.

His thumb sweeps over your cheek again, a soft, almost absent-minded caress as he holds you there, still so close. “You have no idea how distracting you are,” he murmurs, his voice hushed.

You’re left breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you blink up at him, dazed by it all. “You… you kissed me,” you whisper, your body still flushed against his as you try to piece things together.

“I did,” he replies softly, his hands now moving to rest on your waist, grounding you in the moment. “Is it okay that I did?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess it’s just… I thought you didn’t like me.” You pull back slightly, leaning against the desk this time. He looks down at you, his gaze unexpectedly soft.

“I’ll admit I haven’t been the kindest to you,” he says, a touch of regret in his tone. “The lads gave me an earful the other day.”

“So, was it a guilt kind of kiss or…?” you mumble, sincerely hoping it wasn’t.

Fox’s eyes widen slightly, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he exclaims, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m not great at showing how I feel, and hearing you call me ‘cute’… it pushed me in the right direction. Made me realise I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t care.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. “Oh,” you say, your voice small but relieved.

He offers you a small smile, the kind that’s rare for him, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “So, would you consider going for drinks with me tonight?” he asks, his tone hopeful but tinged with the same guardedness that’s always been there.

The hesitation in his voice makes you understand how much this moment means to him, and you can’t help but smile back with a genuine, warm smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you reply softly.

Fox’s shoulders visibly relax, the tension you hadn’t even noticed finally easing as he nods. “Good,” he says, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. But there’s a warmth there now, something new that you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before. “I, uh, have to get back to the Chancellor. I knew the others wouldn’t be here today, and I know your routine, so I figured I’d have time to speak to you before heading back.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So, you’re not supposed to be here?”

“No, I’m not,” he admits with a somewhat sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have told the Chancellor I had an important matter to tend to.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Fox joins in with a chuckle, the sound rich and surprisingly pleasant, before he takes a final step toward you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “It was worth it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart skips a beat as he pulls back, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Definitely.”

🌊 Masterlist is pinned 🌊

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[pearlzier]

────⠀ RICH.ᐟREADER struggles with showing love.

NOTES ,, might do a tag list specifically for skater!matt and rich!reader if anyone.... is interested... this is just fluff but i think theyre so cute <3.

you don't really know how to show affection towards those you like or love without spending money. you're so used to others doing it for them—your parents throwing a couple of expensive clothes or jewellery at you for your birthday, your friends taking you out to lavish restaurants as a gift as opposed to something homemade or actually thought out. of course, you like all of those things, who wouldn't? but.. they don't know how to not spend money on those you love.

you don't understand the saying, 'money doesn't buy happiness'. it's managed to make you happy your entire life, so how's that supposed to work? like.. it doesn't make sense. so when matt's birthday's coming up, well, you immediately knew you were gonna buy him something nice and take him somewhere expensive.

but you can't help but think that maybe that's not the best course of action, that matt wouldn't exactly want the generic rich kid birthday starter pack. he's got three siblings, damn it, maybe he'd want something a little more.. meaningful? he's probably seen a few birthday dinners at expensive resturaunts in his time, you doesn't want it to be boring for him. you wanted to make an impact, even if you didn't know how.

it gets to a point where you're stumped, completely. you know matt so well, but are so stuck in your old ways and so used to just shelling out some cash for one day only to do it again and again annually, that coming up with anything that he wanted seemed impossible.

a new skateboard? surely he had enough. protective gear? now that was just comical. you hated the feeling of not being able to come up with a meaningful gift to give him. sure, you two aren't dating, but you're close enough to constitute a gift, right? it pisses you off to no end, to the point of upset. you practically storm into matt's room, having been let in by chris when he saw how distraught you were. "you're so fucking hard to please! how am i supposed to get you a gift for your birthday when, when—"

matt's taken off guard. first of all, how'd you get in? he's assuming it was one of his brothers who'd let you in, but.. second of all, you're so upset. he'd thought he'd done something wrong but you're yelling at him about a gift? his birthday? he blinks for a minute, sitting up, "hey, hey, hey," he starts, frowning. the sight of you so upset makes his heart ache in the worst way possible. getting up from his bed, his gaze rakes over you.

it's appreciative, of course, but also concerned. "you're scarin' me, sweetheart, what's goin' on?" he mumbles, taking a little step closer as he reaches out for you. gently, he places his hands on your arms and draws you a little closer. you look up at him with glassy eyes, a little wet with tears that you try to blink away as to not seem weak or make your mascara run. "stop bein' all.." you don't know what you're protesting against, you really don't.

"all what?" his brows furrow a minute, a small, faint smile ghosting his lips. it only serves to make you a little more upset with how caring he is to you, even when you're a bit of a bitch to him sometimes. hey, he's a bitch in return too.

"all nice. we're supposed to fuck 'n' be all passionate, that kinda thing," you mumble under your breath, lashes fluttering as your eyes lift to his. matt feels a warmth flood his chest and he shakes his head, "don't even want you thinkin' 'bout that whilst you're feelin' like this," he murmurs quietly, tone firm but soft. "you gonna tell me what's up, or—'cause we can just watch a movie or somethin'." as much as he was passionate with your body, he was passionate with your heart too.

"wanted to get you something nice for your birthday, yeah? like.. something you'd enjoy, not some shit you'd say you like and then never use ever again," you start to explain, relaxing a little at the touch on your arms finally and melting your way against him. he hums for a moment, slowly nodding his head at your words. "but nothin's coming to mind at all. blank slate—i can't think of anything you like, i've tried every store, every website." you'd spent hours with your laptop and your soft blankets wrapped around you, just trying to find a single gift for him.

"babe," he sighs at the sight of you, the corners of his lips flitting upwards at the realisation that settles upon him. all this over him? over his birthday? god, you're adorable. "really?"

"what do you mean, really—what type of shitty response is tha—"

"hear me out," matt murmurs, interrupting you gently. he rubs his hands over your arms easily, sighing for a second as his eyes meet yours. "what if i don't want all that? what if i just wanna spend some time with you? y'ever think about that?" his hands slide up over your arms to your neck, fingers curling around the back gently. "that ever cross your mind?"

you scoff instantly at that—"well, who'd want that?" he doesn't admit it, but the sound of you saying that about yourself makes his heart ache in his chest once more. shaking off the pang of hurt, he continues after being quiet for a moment. "me, i'd want that. jus' bein' with you makes me happy. that'd make it a real good birthday." you can't deny there's a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart when he says that. no one's ever said that your company is all they need to be happy.

you bite your tongue momentarily, considering your words. a bashful little look dawns on your face and you look away with a quiet huff. "yeah?" you mumble, looking up at him through your lashes after. damn it, he makes your heart feel all fluttery and warm like no one else has before. you're not sure whether you like it all that much—since it's so vulnerable, but you can't say you hate it, since you don't. "really?"

he draws you into him, his hand sliding up to the back of your head to cradle it before he holds you against his chest. "i mean it, pretty girl," he murmurs, his words completely genuine and true. he really does mean it, he loves you and your company so damn much—even if he can't say it. he doesn't need your alone time with him to end with having sex, or for you to buy him expensive little gifts, he just needs you. "really do mean it. i like hangin' out with you, ain't it obvious?"

"you're so—like," you don't know how to explain it. your head tilts a little, chin bumping against his chest a little as his fingers brush over your jaw. "so.." you're a little lost for words, admittedly. a smile plays over matt's lips once more, his eyes fluttering over your pretty face.

"so what, babe?"

you're quiet again, considering what to say before you make the decision that words can't describe how you feel enough. so you lean in, grasping at the fabric of his shirt to draw him closer and press your lips against his. it's slow, gentle, he blinks a minute to adjust to the fact you're kissing him, but he melts into it almost immediately. his plush lips against yours feels like heaven, parting a little instinctively. resting his hands on the sides of your face, he holds you against him.

after a little bit, he pulls back. "i get it," he murmurs quietly, "no need to explain. i know." he gets you more than anyone else.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7 ִ ꒱

[stxrr-strxckk]

Thinking about work rivals to lovers with Carmy...

You don't know how the hell you got here. A few months ago, you were fresh out of culinary school, and now you're working at a fancy New York restaurant with not one- not two- but three Michelin stars?

Sure, you didn't have the most important job- you were just staging. That's basically a glorified intern, but still with the shit pay. A normal day on the job consisted of shadowing a team of people so in synch it was like they were one big machine. You being there was a cog in the gears.

None of the chefs wanted you there, and you could tell. Some hid it better than others, but you could see it in their eyes. They saw you as less than. A worm they could crush with the heel of their shoe without giving it a second thought.

They weren't outright mean to you, of course, but there was always something- a little slip up, a break in the mask of professionalism that would show how they really felt about you. A single eye roll, a sneer, maybe a scoff or sarcastic remark behind your back that they thought you couldn't hear- but you were always listening. Always.

It honestly pissed you off. Why spend so much time beating around the bush, acting like everything was fine? If they really had such an issue with you being there, they might as well just say it to your face. Still, none had the guts to actually do it.

None, except Carmen fucking Berzatto.

No one in that damn kitchen hated you more than that curly-haired bastard. To be fair, he was like that with everyone. His first thought when a new person entered the kitchen, whether staging or not?

I'm gonna smoke this motherfucker.

He was the same way with you, just ramped up to 100. You rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't know what bothered him so much, you were like every other stage he'd ever worked with. But maybe that's what bothered him. There was just, nothing special about you.

You were extraordinarily ordinary. And that was the most confusing piece of the puzzle for him.

How did you; an up-and-coming chef in the New York area just trying to get by, staging at any restaurant that'll take you somehow ending up here?

God, in the beginning he couldn't stand you. Even just being stationed near each other was enough to drive him insane. Any chance he got to leave, he would. His smoke breaks ramped up, and so did his amount of volunteering to leave on errands.

You were pretty much the same. Snide remarks, comments, eye rolls and scoffs were most of your vocabulary around him. Everyone in the kitchen knew of your disdain for each other, and it became a bit of a game for them. Let's see who pops first: Carmy or the new kid? How close can we get them before a fight starts? How long until they either kill each other or hook up?

Still, as time went on, the other chefs learned to accept you, Carmy learned to ignore you, and you learned to deal with his bullshit.

Carmy also learned that he might have a staring problem.

It was little, at first. quick glances at you at your station. Just to make sure you aren't royally fucking up per usual, right?

But it became something... More.

Glances turned to looks, and looks turned to stares.

The more he stared, the more he noticed about you.

The more he stared, the more he noticed about himself.

Like, for example, your laugh. It was loud. Loud enough to break his focus every time he heard it, which was often because you just have to find everything so damn funny. Still, there was this warmth to it. It became familiar, comforting even. He found himself quietly chuckling, wondering what joke had made you laugh like that so he could replicate it and tell it to you later.

And as the weeks went on, it was harder to not stare at you every time you entered the kitchen. Maybe it was those ridiculous outfits, that made you look straight outta Brooklyn, though they did have a certain charm to them. Maybe it was your perfume, unbearable at first but after a while addicting. Or maybe it was just you. Maybe it was just the fact that Carmy wasn't just staring at your outfits, or listening to your laugh, or smelling your perfume, he was staring at, listening to, and smelling you.

He hated to admit it, but that little voice in the back of his head was right. The one that told him maybe he didn't hate you. The one that told him maybe you weren't the worst chef he'd ever met. The one that told him maybe he was issue, you were fine- amazing, even, he was just too dense to realize.

He didn't listen to that voice often, but as time passed the voice got louder and it was harder to push down his feelings like that. He knew, sooner or later, that he would explode and tell you how he felt. How he really felt.

Maybe that would be tonight.

Carmy could feel his jaw tense just looking at you, gripping the countertop so hard his tattooed knuckles looked pale in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

Somewhere else in the kitchen someone yelled out an order, but he wasn't paying attention. He was busy watching you. You were preparing lamb with a mint jelly, but the jelly was runny and the lamb undercooked. God, it almost made him feel sorry for you.

He watched as you wiped sweat from your furrowed brow, a concentrated look on your face with your tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth. It was kind of endearing to see you trying so hard. God, was he smiling? At the thought of you? He'd tried to push these feelings down, he really had. He just wasn't strong enough.

Carmy quickly went back to being straight faced, trying to focus more on his job of prepping vegetables for a side dish. Still, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop stealing glances to your station. It was a mess, in all honesty. How you hadn't been screamed at yet, he had no idea.

A thought appeared in his head. He tried to ignore it; shake it off and focus on the food that needed preparing. But it was consuming his mind. Finally, he couldn't take it. He set down his knife, glancing at your station.

"Chef!" he called out. You were the only person nearby, so of course you turn and look at him. You felt yourself grimace. God, what does he want now? To yell at you, insult your undercooked lamb and mint jelly that was turning more into a mint sauce every minute?

You didn't know why you were so off your game today; maybe it had something to do with all the staring from Mr. 'I'm too good for the rest of you' just one station away. Those piercing blue eyes had been boring a hole through you for far too long now.

Even still, you made sure to smile and nod. "Yes?" you replied, with a sickeningly sweet tone.

"Yes, chef." Carmy corrected, and you scoffed. "Come over here."

You obliged, although hesitantly. Why did he need you at the garde manger? Not to mention, you were sure he would never work with you willingly. If he had it his way, you'd be out on the streets begging for spare change.

"You're cooking the lamb all wrong," Carmy began. You rolled your eyes. Of course he's calling you over to critique you. That's the only thing he finds pleasure in doing. He can see your disinterest, and quickly snaps his fingers in front of your face. "Hey, listen to me."

"Okay," you grumble.

"The only thing you should be saying is yes chef. Not okay, not yes, not some bullshit complaint about me not fuckin'- bein' all nice and shit, just yes chef. Capiche?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yes chef." You were used to Carmen getting pissy, throwing his temper tantrums, but not like this. This was different. This, was hot.

"Good." Carmy's reply is short and sweet. A moment of silence fills the air, the tension evident.

"So, for uh- for the lamb." he sniffs, grabbing a cut of the animal and his good knife. "You're not- you're starting the lamb on medium heat and just keeping it like that, the whole way through, right?"

You nod, watching him cut a piece to the right size. You never noticed how strong his arms were until now. You'd seen them, sure, but never in this light. Muscles, some veins popping out, you can't look away.

"Well- you're supposed to start it on, uhm, medium high. Yeah. Not medium, that won't cook it well enough without burning it and making it look like shit. So, you start on medium high, then around halfway through, you turn it down to medium and just keep it there until it's done. Yes?"

"Yes chef." you nod. You had to admit, he knew his shit. Carmy was a good chef, no doubt about it. And watching him work? It was like magic.

"Great. Here, lemme- lemme show you how to do it, first, so you don't fuck it up like you did last time. That was- that was bad. Fuck." he cringes at the stutter in his voice, reminding him of the childhood he spent too afraid to speak thanks to that debilitating stutter. It was gone now, mostly. Except for when the nerves got the best of him.

He walked to the stovetop, turning the heat to medium high and pouring olive oil on the skillet. The lamb made a hissing sound as he tossed it into the pan, the crackling and popping of the oil growing louder.

"See, and now this- this is when we turn down the heat, and you just change the side every few minutes until it's brown, and uh- yeah. There ya go. Perfect lamb. Yeah." he explains, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. He starts to walk back to his station, but you stop him.

"What about the mint jelly?"

He stops and turns around. He never thought he'd see the day where you- the annoying stage who hated him almost as much as he hated you, would ask for his help. He can't help but smile. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's the satisfaction from the unspoken confession that yes- he is a better chef than you- or maybe it's because you actually want to spend time with him. You're asking to learn from him, and you don't even sound mad about it!

Maybe he's smiling because this stupid little workplace crush may not be as one-sided as he thought.

A/N: Holy shit I kinda love this. Might make a series of work rivals to lovers with Carm cus he's my husband fr fr <3 we share a name for a reason!!!💯💯💯

wordcount:1,868

[imaginingbleach]

Something that randomly came to mind...

Enjoy!

(NSFW below the cut; espadas included: 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 & Neliel)

Struggled a bit with 8, so forgive me. 😭

Types of Doms they are:

Starrk

This man has got exactly two modes when it comes to sex. Lazy or feral.

He's willing to do a lot with you, but if you catch him in his lazy mode you'll likely be doing most of the work.

Ride him, suck him, hell he'll even give you oral if you both find the right positions for him to laze a out.

Just remember: It's not that he isn't enjoying himself; that rock hard dick proves otherwise...

You knew what you were getting into.

Now then, switching gears: when he's feral, he'll barely let you move.

He's making you cum a minimum of one time before he's even going to penetrate you in any way.

He gets very possessive in this state.

Congratulations! You've essentially got a werewolf boyfriend who's usually lazy and can't transform like that...

But! When he needs to claim you for whatever reason? Welp!

Communication is key with this man! He doesn't mind if you have multiple partners, but he can get a bit jealous if you don't tell him!

Hell, you'll find out on more than one occasion, when someone flirts with you...

He'll bring you home and claim you all night long.

He might not even make it home.

Just... Keep him in the loop if you're crushing or plan to date another. it'll probably save some furniture.

Halibel

As she can't quite use her mouth outside of being in her release form, she's had time to master plenty of other ways to get you off.

She prefers to use her hands and fingers on you, but is not opposed to toys in anyway.

That's primarily for when she's doing any for of penetration on you, though.

She has learned to use any and every part of her body to be able to tease you and leave you squirming and begging for her.

Don't call her master. It reminds her of her fraccións.

May accept being called mommy under the right circumstances, though.

Has absolutely no issues with being called daddy.

Just sit on her lap and ask daddy politely if you can ride her thigh~

Not one to get jealous easily, but is definitely protective.

This is particularly true if you are someone who can be seen as weak to others.

Not very loud, but loves hearing how loud she can make you.

Ulquiorra

He struggles a lot with more human like needs and emotions

So he tends to be a heavy service top...

But it comes with so many questions.

"Why does your face warm when I kiss you?"

"Why do you avert your gaze when I-"

You get the idea.

Eventually once repeated behaviors rise up, he starts catching on.

When you make this sound, it means you really like it.

When you squirm, you're not actually trying to get away.

Just simple stuff, but you'll have had to explain it to him a bit before he starts connecting the dots.

Once he's more comfortable with you and starts recognizing these reactions...

You're in for it.

He's definitely someone who gets off on your pleasure.

As long as you're satisfied, so is he.

Nnoitra

He surprisingly doesn't mind being the one to do all the work.

It let's him be in control of, well, everything.

There's something about seeing how much you get off on everything he does to you that drives the predator in him wild.

He enjoys having control, and, having you submit to let him do whatever he wants is too delicious to pass up.

Plus, he can't help but enjoy the way you always act like such cute little prey when he's teasing you.

Those big doe eyes, the small squeaky and whiny noises you make...

The way he can make you come undone with almost any part of his body...

It's very >:))

Not entirely against sharing, but like with Starrk, if it's not discussed he can get a bit jealous

His jealousy, however, is usually more rage fueled than hormonal so watch out for that.

He's not too into being called anything "special"

May accept "daddy" now and again

Despite how kinky sex with him might be-- it is fueled by emotions (at least on his end)

You've sparked his interest in one way or another enough to warrant wanting to carnally claim you...

There's at least some attachments and calling him "master" immediately throws that out the window to him.

Grimmjow

He definitely still has some characteristics from his more beastial hollow form

His need to claim you is always in battle with his desire to see you submit to him

Kneel before the king and offer him a blowjob, he's grinning wider than Nnoitra

Seeing you beg him to pleasure you is just 😘

Part of the problem with him is that it's a bit difficult for him to give oral... Given that he has to be very conscious of every move he makes because of his hollow mask

But he is a god with his hands.

He's another one who likes to watch you ride his thighs.

Absolutely gets off on being called king, but will absolutely bust a nut if you refer to him as your husband (romantic partner ofc)

This is at it's worst before any kind of marriage, but it's still effective after.

Doesn't see the appeal in being called daddy until he *is* a daddy 👀 something about being one makes it kinkier to him for you to call him daddy

Szayel

A bit different from the others on the list in that he wants to be worshipped like a god.

He wants you to use your entire body to do so, but this is just the first act-- no form of penetration just yet. (Minus maybe deep throating him~)

Now, once that's all done he's got PLENTY of ways to pleasure you...

He's definitely into orgasm denial and overstimulation.

He likes testing your body~

If you're willing, definitely would do some experimenting...

He wouldn't do anything too drastic, though.

If not, he'll find a way to make some of his palatable for you~

You really should thank him for thinking of you.

So/so with names. The higher status the name gives him, the more he'll like it.

Neliel

Dommy mommy 🥰

She absolutely loves to spoil you during kinky times together

Another one who gets off more on your pleasure than her own

If you're not a pillow prince(ss) type of sub, she will boss you around a bit~

But she's so sweet when she does that it just has you melting at her every word

"What was that, baby? Tell mommy what you want~"

She might tease you with that one by having you with a gag in your mouth or other things 🤭

Absolutely does get off on taking care of you

Dotes on you, takes great lengths into making sure you're comfortable during aftercare!

Doesn't matter how you compare size wise to her, she's holding you on her and letting you rest your head on her chest

Makes an amazing pillow ngl

[millyondollarbaby]

Could you make Yandere Neighbor, Yandere Creep x reader who is also perverted and does everything to provoke the yanderes?

I’m assuming you want hcs/story for both so here we go because I am lowkey(literally) a nonchalant provoker- Not Proofread

𝐘𝐀𝐍!𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐀𝐍!𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The Neighbor: Being the good neighbor we are(I mean temptress, seductress WITCH) we can clearly see his peculiar interest in us and are absolutely thrilled to play with him.

It starts small, a gentle smile and a wave if we see him outside, a quick acknowledgment. But as time goes on we want to test him- we go outside more, we keep a close eye to see if there is a hole in the blinds, and we notice he appears to always be outside when we are. He isn't exactly easy to ignore.

We utilize this knowledge: We garden more, exercise outside more, swim more. Imagine how ruffled his feathers get when he notices us in our summer bikinis taking a dip in our pool. His eyes almost pop out of his head, he's feeling... achy in a way he hasn't ever felt before. He can feel his heartbeat in his co-

Personally, I'm a sweetie pie and love to bake so let's be a good neighbor and bring him some of our baked goods! We make sure the packing is cute, paper boxes with bows on them and cute labels attached. We make sure we are wearing something homely but hot. A pair of jeans with a clean long-sleeved shirt, maybe blue or gray with the chest cut low revealing the tops of our breasts.

We stroll over to his house carrying his gifts. We knock on the door(or press the door bell), straighten up our spine, and perk out our breasts. Show time.

A moment later the door opens, the moment he sees us his eyes widen and his lips slightly purse. We smile "Hey neighbor, sorry to bother you but I was baking and had a bunch of extras I didn't want to waste." We say smiling holding up the boxes. "So I thought I would just bring some over here- hope you don't mind?"

He looks down on the boxes: Cookies, brownies, pastries. He looks like an owl. "I-I. That looks like a lot." is all he can manage to slip out. YOU'RE HERE! AT HIS HOUSE, AT HIS DOOR- GIVING HIM FOOD YOU MADE! He feels like he might throw up and potentially pass out. He lightly clears his throat feigning love sickness. We smile again sheepishly, " Yeah I can get carried away, I always like to have a stocked house. I figured your a big guy I'm sure they wont hurt," we say as we hand him the boxes. He looks to the boxes again and back to you- holy shit. He didn't even notice what we were wearing before. "Well enjoy them, let me now what you think." We say as we smile for the final time and begin to walk away. He is totally going to do despicable things with those treats.

𝐘𝐀𝐍!𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

This might have to be structured in more of a school setting but we'll see.

We noticed him from the begining, how could we not? He’s tall, gives off the vibe of a creepy pasta character, and is always around. We don’t really mind though. We actually think he’s kinda…cute.

We decide to give him some crumbs of attention here and there. Maybe we’re a teachers assistant so we either A. Work in the library and he comes in to return a book. We smile at him and turn away. B. We deliver papers to a class and make sure to say his name glancing at him for a second longer than others. He notices, of course.

We see him around campus and always make sure to send him a glance and maybe a smile. Giving off an air of subtle seduction. He feels it and it turns his gears. He sits and thinks about it all day. If he is really truly desperate he might have to make a detour to the restroom to pull one out before class- if he makes it to the restroom. He might have to cover a wet spot for a couple periods.

If you give him subtle attention he’ll take that as an invitation to show up more, even having the confidence to stammer out something once in a while: “H-Hi um… can I get this?” He’s cute like a stray skin walker in the forest.

[bmhcdnsms]

protective ! biker boyfriend headcanons

[male reader] - fem alligned, minors / ageless, and blank blogs dni or u will be blocked !

protective ! biker bf . . . who doesn't let you go anywhere without him. exclusively rides his bike, he knows how to drive a regular car, just chooses not to, and trust everytime he picks you up, it's with his bike humming in the background, waiting to be ridden.

"there's my pretty boy," he flirts, leaning down the moment you open the door and stealing a kiss from you. and when he feels the way you so naturally kiss back, he can't help but go in for another. and then another. he gets a total of five kisses before he's satisfied.

"remind me why we need to take your loud ass bike to the conveinence store, luci?" his full name is lucian, but the nickname luci was coined after you guys got really comfortable in your relationship. and he loves it. only when it comes from your lips, of course.

"everyone in this shit town needs to know whenever we go anywhere," he explains simply, taking off of his thick leather jacket (he has another layer of a thick, long sleeve, specially made for bikers, shirt underneath) and holding it open for you to wear, "plus, it gives me an excuse to see you in my gear. makes you so sexy," he teases, leaning down to give you another surprise kiss before shoving the helmet down onto your head.

now you're wearing your own helmet, his jacket, and riding on the back of his bike with your arms tightly bound around his waist.

protective ! biker bf . . . who spoils you rotten. he wants to treat you to the most lavish of experiences and he'll deliver them to you with you on the back of his bike or take you to those places with you riding on the back of said bike.

the revving of a familiar, loud engine makes you roll out of bed with a pissed off look on your face. you tug the curtains open, looking at your boyfriend at the end of your lawn with your arms crossed over your chest. since he's not that far, you can see how cheesily wide his grin is.

you open the window, knowing that he'll start throwing pebbles at it if you don't, and lean out into the open night air.

"you trying to wake the whole place, luci?" the usage of the nickname shows to him that you're not actually mad at him.

"no, just you, my love," he says, sauntering across the lawn with his hands behind his back, "wanted to give you a late night gift,"

he reveals a huge bouquet of roses that were hiding behind his back.

"luci," your tone is unique; showing that you're flattered and embarassed in the lavish, sweet gift, but also scolding in some sense because of how late it was for him to be doing this.

"[nameee]," he says, in the same candence. he walks over, putting the stems into his mouth and biting down as he works on climbing up to your window. and when he's finally arrived to your heigth, he's handing you the roses with a grin, "for my boy,"

"you're such a romantic," you tease, not finding the will to be mad at him anymore. not when he looks so perfect with his messy hair and smirking face. "c'mere," you say, leaning forward with your hand already on his cheek.

he welcomes the affection with ease, pressing into you and grabbing you by the waist to keep you stationed right where he wants you. it takes smacking his chest to make him let you go, revealing his smirking, proud face on display for you to glare at.

"thank you, baby, they're really pretty," you say, pecking him once more before turning away to set them on the table.

"i got the best out of the bunch for you, pretty boy," he says, kicking off of the window sill and shedding off his jacket and boots. soon, he's collapsing onto your bed and waiting for you to join him, "think i get some cuddles for this grand gesture now."

"oh, do you, really?" you tease, yelping when he suddenly pulls you down to lay with him, laughing as his fingers tickle your sides.

"some cuddles and some more?" he says with a wink, making you roll your eyes.

"shut up."

protective ! biker bf . . . who makes it very obvious you're taken. he's got you two matching jewelry, you're his lockscreen and homescreen, he's your lockscreen (he let you have your homescreen be whatever you wanted it to be...the lockscreen is what mattesr most anyway because that's the one that everyone sees), he's got a bracelet on his wrist with your name spelt out in childish beads, he's got a necklace with a heart locket that has a picture of you two, he has your name tattooed- just kidding, he doesn't...but keep an eye on him because he's been genuinely thinking of getting one.

"baby, you're not wearing it," your supposedly tough boyfriend whines as you're both about to leave, "wear it!" he childishly whines again.

he's talking about his letterman jacket that he got custom made with his last name on the back and the emblem of his biker gang on the back.

it's not a serious group - in the sense they go around causing purposeful trouble, but still he wanted to have some sort of physical proof to show that it was a sentimental thing for him. he never let anyone else wear it, but you and him too.

"i have my own jacket..."

you just killed him. he's writhing on the floor in immense pain as he clutches his chest and cries out for mercy. his dramatic tantrum won't be held over until that jacket is around your shoulders, so you better just put it on to make him shut up.

-

his lockscreen is a photo of you hugging him from behind while he has his helmet on. your kissing the top of the hard shell, a smile on your lips and a masked one on his. it's a selfie, so you're looking right at the camera with a crinkle in your eyes from your wide smile.

his homescreen is a photo of you and him resting in bed. he doesn't have his shirt on so your head is just resting on his bare chest. and you're sleepy, completely unaware of the photo he's taking of you. he's sleepily grinning ear to ear as he looks down at you though, so enamored by how cute you are. if you squint, you can see the initials of your name inked into his collarbone - which is only a couple inches away from where your head is resting.

protective ! biker bf . . . who uses his easily intimidating stance to scare off anyone that comes up to you two. in any situation, he's standing very close by and very ready to bite at anyone that gets too close (metaphorically, of course...).

the tent restaurant you were sitting in had to be one of your favorites. they served the best food, were run by a cute old lady, and had a good crowd surrounding you two. his leather jacket was thrown over your shoulders to keep you warm, since air did keep coming into the place, and he was sat right across from you.

the plastic table had all types of food scattered everywhere and his eyes practically had stars in them.

"which one do you want, babe?" he said, already getting ready to give you a big portion of the food that you both ordered.

you told him which one with a grateful smile, kissing his hand quickly as he was reaching out for some of the delicious food to plate for you. he blushed profusely, cursing you for being so "adorable" and flustering him so much for no reason.

"i just have the best boy-"

"sorry, excuse me, but you dropped your napkin," a stranger passing by said, bending over and picking up the cloth that had fallen from your lap and onto the ground.

you took it from the man's hold, ignoring the way your fingers brushed against his, and politely thanked him.

"thank-"

"here, don't use that one now since it's dirty, babe," lucian says quickly, grabbing it from your hand before you can return it to its previous position. instead, he hands you his and gently smiles, "use mine,"

"what? no, you don't have to," you scold, looking at him with a warning look. you would be fine with your own napkin anyway, plus you didn't want him to eat without one.

the stranger looked at the exchange with a sheepish smile, then directed his next words to you, "if you would like, i could get you another one from a staff member?"

"that would be gr-"

"we don't need your help, man, just scram already," lucian sighs, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. as if he was incredibly stressed with the newcomer.

you kicked him under the table, which he winced and pouted at.

"uhm, don't mind him. and it's alright, i can flag down a waitress so you don't have to worry about it." you said with a kind smile, hoping the guy would take the hint and leave. you knew why lucian was acting up and you would rather not colorfully scold him in front of a stranger.

"if you insist," he kindly returns the smile before taking his leave, scattering away when he notices your boyfriend glaring at him through his hand that was covering his face.

immediately, you reach over and pinch lucian's cheek and tug hard, "are you serious? you fucking man-baby,"

"i'm sorrryyy," he drawls out, the tone of his voice shaking as you tug and wiggle his cheek in contempt.

-

in conclusion, he's a big dramatic sweetheart when it comes to you and also always really flirty and playful. unless has something to say, or exsists too close to you two, then he becomes a grade-A asshole and finds a way to make that person's interaction with you severely uncomfortable and awkward.

[sexydoffyman]

i saw ur yandere ghost, soap konig thingie i’m begging for part 2. i’m on my knees begging u

FIGHTING OVER YOU P2

navigation

p1 p2 p3

genre: romance?

characters: Ghost, Soap, König

A/N: NAH CUZ YALL ATE THAT SHIT UP LIKE A GRANDMA'S SOUP @makima4ever taggin you, since you requested this too.🦑

artist @ave661 check their stuff out, my fellow humans!

So, we already know you have scary dog privileges.

I mean, you wouldn't want to get into disagreement with any of them normally.

So when they are glaring everyone down, you can be sure that no one even looks at you wrong.

No one wants to fight a demolition expert, a dude with a skeleton mask, and a 208cm tall dude.

Everyone drops their jaw when you playfully punch Ghost, and he just lets you.

Soap and Ghost become kind of glad König is with them.

Since he's a colonel, not even other colonels want to mess with you.

They finally started working together.

You still have times when no one is following you.

At those times, they will try to get your attention.

Oh, they still fight amongst each other. Now, the fighting is more subtle.

You still notice they fought when some of their gear is broken or missing completely.

Now, they love to give you attention, but if you give them your attention.

Just get ready for them to fall in love with you even harder.

You are messing with their heads.

Soap loves the faces of people when they realize they messed with the wrong person.

Now, for how would they get rid of anyone who decides to argue with you.

Ghost would just do the necessary staring like he always does. If that doesn't scare them off, he will start breaking limbs.

Soap would threaten them with explosives. If that won't work on them he will proceed with his threats.

König would just grin under his mask and beat the shit out of them. No warnings.

They all want to have you for themselves.

Only after some time they will try to make moves.

Ghost freezes when you blush at his flirting.

He was so taken aback by your reaction.

Soap would probably put an arm over your shoulder while you are in a helicopter, saying "Need some sleep?"

He also freezes when you actually lay your head on his shoulder.

König would want to help you get over a wall way taller than you by lifting you up.

When you two were both over the wall, he held you in his hands, not wanting to let go.

He would also freeze like the rest of them, when you hug him instead of telling him to let go of you.

Poor dudes. Just give them some love.

P3?

[olderthannetfic]

I know the response to this will be "WRITE FOR YOURSELF!!!1!" but when I look at things I worked really hard to write that have zero comments and the things I threw out there on a whim that actually appear to have made people happy, I feel so much less motivated to write the former. I know I'm supposed to be "doing it for myself" but I don't know what that means. It feels like those 90's movies saying "be yourself" or my therapist saying "be authentic". It's a nice enough sounding thing, but what does it mean? Does it mean writing in obscurity is more pure or more artsy? Is it supposed to be more moral and demonstrate integrity?

There's an agreement in fandom that writing for others is bad. It's impure. It's selfish. But no one has really ever explained why. Nor am I getting much out of writing a story that means a lot to me and getting dead silence in response. I like entertaining others and making them smile.

I can practically feel the, "uh, back in my day fic was hosted on a server and we didn't see hit counts let alone get comments and we were happy with it because we weren't whiny and in need of validation like Gen Z!!!1!" people gearing up to yell in the replies that they're good writers who don't care about comments. That's great for them, and I mean that sincerely. But equally sincerely, how are you supposed to maintain passion for something no one else is interested in? I've been told it's better to get validation via hit counts or bookmarks but numbers don't really do anything for me. Someone saying, "I loved this! Can't wait to see what happens next." can make not just my day but my week.

I know what people say. Fandom isn't a popularity context. It's not social media. You're not supposed to like talking to people about fandom things. But... I do. And the utter silence that is modern fandom - of the 100 last published fics in my fandom, only 10 have comments, and only 4 have regular commenters - is just really not fun to me.

--

Yes, lots of people do think it ~demonstrates integrity~. People who never finish anything.

People who actually succeed at making art will say superficially similar things, but what they mean is "If you write things you aren't actually interested in, you will either burn out or the art won't actually be satisfying to the audience or both".

--

The thing about back in the day is that we only got comments. You're dead wrong about that part. Yes, people whined that there wasn't enough feedback, and they will continue to whine about this until the end of time, but your description misses the most important part about the rose-colored glasses and what people are trying to explain about the past in most of those posts:

We couldn't see the lurkers (hit counts) but we did see some actual interactions. This allowed us to imagine that the comment rate was way higher than it actually was and to see fandom as a close-knit community (which was maybe somewhat more accurate than now but never as true as people believed).

--

You have fundamentally misunderstood what the (saner) posts about this are saying.

You shouldn't care about overall numbers. You should care about meaningful social interactions. Obviously, people like connecting with others via art.

Fandom is not a popularity contest. That's why you should enjoy talking to actual peers about things. Genuine connection is not about being a celebrity with fans: it's about making friends.

--

Some fandoms do have interactions. Maybe if you start interacting with others' works, that will help. Maybe you need a different fandom. "Modern fandom" isn't this total wasteland with no interaction, nor do most people find a total lack of it fun.

[chanranghaeys]

watching “grave of the fireflies” with vernon

pairing: idol!vernon x gn!reader word count: 700+ tags: established relationship, movie night, comfort, some tears warnings: none (unless you count “grave of the fireflies” as a warning in itself)

a/n: in celebration of the news that this heartbreakingly beautiful movie will be coming to netflix soon yay. if you haven’t watched it like this fic vernon, please do watch it, it's beautiful, but maybe not alone if possible like this fic vernon haha

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“You, of all people, have never watched Grave of the Fireflies?”

Vernon is silent, his face mixing a pout, a scowl, and a side-eye you swear he got from Seungkwan. “I should have you know that it is not an easy film to watch, okay?”

“I know that. But Hansol Vernon Chwe, the film junkie, has not watched this masterpiece?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s a masterpiece! I just…can’t bring myself to watch it alone.”

You tilt your head curiously. “Alone? You don’t have to watch it alone, though. Have none of the boys agreed to watch it with you?”

”I mean…I guess I just never got around to asking it. And you know how busy we can get. Oh, I think Jun hyung has watched it.”

“And?”

“He never wants to see it again.”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. Very valid point.”

“So do you see my dilemma? I don’t want to watch it alone, and no one will watch it with me.”

“I’ll watch it with you.”

His eyes widen. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure you want to watch it again?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll watch it with and for you.” You shrug nonchalantly. “Besides, I’ve been kind of meaning to watch it again just because it’s been years since I first did. I like rewatching Ghibli films.”

The right corner of Vernon’s lip quirks up. He looks down bashfully. You take his hand in yours and duck down to meet his eyes as you smile back. “Are you free tonight?”

His gaze softens and he grazes a finger on your cheek. “Stop giving me more reasons to keep liking you.”

“Nope.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs at your cheekiness. He loves you so much.

“Fine, tonight it is. I’ll be there at 8.”

The credits start rolling and you blow your nose into yet another piece of tissue as you wipe the tears that just won’t stop falling. At this point, Vernon would usually automatically comfort you in a hug, but he was still honestly stunned by the whole ordeal he went through for the past 80 minutes of the film.

That was rough.

He was rendered motionless with so many thoughts running in his head, failing to come up with words for what he just watched.

“So,” you said in between sniffs. “How are you?”

He takes in a deep breath, and you hear a sniffle along with it. He wipes unshed tears from his eyes and just shakes his head. “Isao Takahata, may you rest in peace...but damn you. In the most respectful way, damn you.”

You let out a laugh in between your tears and you know it wasn’t you that needed comforting right now. You closed the distance and engulfed him in a hug, one he willingly folded in to be the little spoon.

“Thank you for going through that with me.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder and he moved his hand up and down your forearm that was wrapped around his chest. “I’m glad it was me, honestly. At least we both weren’t first-timers. We might be two blubbering messes by now if that were the case.”

“I’ll tell you right now,” Vernon breathed in deep. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to take care of you if that happened.”

“But it didn’t. So you have me here. I got you.”

“I love you.”

You wipe away a stray tear that escaped his eye. “I love you too.”

“Give me three business days to process all that.”

“Got it, boss.”

Silence. You knew that those three business days weren’t true, because you could almost see the gears working in his head as he looked ahead. In three...two…

“You know, actually, the way that the movie opened with Seita…”

You chuckled against his shoulder, disturbing his train of thought.

“What? What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, still smiling against him. “Nothing, nothing. Please continue.”

Vernon was so rarely the yapper, but not when it came to films. You absolutely adored this side of him. Despite both of you needing to wake up early for work tomorrow, maybe sleep could wait. You were both in for a long night of discussion.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: it's so easy to write fluff for vernon like i churned this out so quickly?? idk man i love him so much :( i feel like the man has so many facets to him but the overarching one is that he's just an all-around nice guy. in real life, he's someone i'd really like to even just be friends with *sigh*

might also make this into a series thing of similar "slice of life" moments with the other members but let's see!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 10 - Marathon

@jegulus-microfic July 10, Word count 719

“Stop complaining Reggie and get your shoes on! You are going, we always go. It’s tradition at this point,” Sirius ordered, throwing Regulus’s shoes at him. 

“Your friends always go, not me,” Regulus groused. He did not want to stand in a crowd of people and cheer James Bloody Potter on while he ran his marathon and then keep moving to different points along the run to continue to cheer him on. It was a lot of sweaty work, the only bit worth it was going to the pub afterwards. “Why can’t I just meet you at the pub?” He asked, staring down at his shoes. 

“Because it’s what family does, Regulus,” Sirius said kindly, wrapping an arm around Regulus’s shoulder. “Now put your shoes on and let’s get going, or we won’t be there in time to see him off,” Regulus grumbled about it, but wanting to keep Sirius happy he put his shoes on and followed him out of the door. 

The start line was heaving, and he was already getting overwhelmed by the cramped conditions and the noise. At least he’d put on a long-sleeved t-shirt. He wouldn’t have coped at all if strangers touched his bare skin. 

He could just make out James near the front of the runners. Some reality star made a stupid little speech that had Regulus rolling his eyes, then they raised the starting pistol into the air and squeezed the trigger, screwing their eyes shut at the pathetic bang, and they were off.

“WOOOOOHOOOOOO, GO PRONGS!!!!” Sirius cheered loudly, swinging off Remus’s arm. James winked at them as he passed, already overtaking three other runners. He had on the tightest running gear known to man. Regulus felt a tingling in his stomach. That was new. He shook his head and followed Sirius and his friends to the next stop to see James. 

They made it just in time. 

“COR POTTER THEY’VE ALL GOT A RIGHT GOOD VIEW OF YOUR ARSE!!!” Remus yelled out this time. James put a bit more of a sway into his running, wiggling his arse and blowing kisses at them over his shoulder. 

“Come on!” Sirius grabbed Regulus just as James blew one right at him. He was actually quite attractive now that Regulus thought about it. 

They got to the next stop with plenty of time before the runners caught up.

“THAT’S RIGHT, POTTER, PUMP THOSE THIGHS!!!” Peter yelled over the crowd. James burst into laughter but put a bit more effort into his run and easily outstripped the front-runners. 

“Alright, last stop Reggie, right at the finish line,” Sirius grinned at him excitedly. 

Sirius literally pushed people out of his way to get them all to the barrier separating them from the runners. “Quick put these on,” Sirius said, handing out black t-shirts. He didn’t give Regulus a choice and pulled it down over his head, trapping his arms to his side. He tried to get his arms through the holes, but Sirius was still holding it down, so he didn’t take it off. 

The patter of a single pair of trainers slapping against tarmac came from the corner. James Potter appeared, eyes locked on the finish line.

“YES JAMES!!!” Sirius crowed as James neared them. James’s eyes flickered over his friends. When he got to Regulus, he missed a step but recovered quickly. He ran towards them and stopped in front of Regulus. He reached over the barrier and grabbed his face between his hands and planted a kiss on his lips before sprinting for the finish line, beating the second-place runner who’d managed to catch him up.

“What the actual?!” Sirius spluttered, spinning Regulus around in his arms. “Oh for fucks sake you’re wearing my t-shirt.” Regulus looked at the shirt Sirius was wearing ‘James Potter is a Tw✱t!’ Yeah, that was definitely one he’d wear and James would find funny. He finally put his arms through the t-shirt he was wearing and pulled the bottom out and read the shirt Sirius was supposed to wear. ‘James Potter snog me silly X’ Well that would explain James’s side at least. What he couldn’t explain was why he wanted to do it again. At least the pub was only down the road, he really needed a gin and tonic right about now.  

[luzial]

My Thoughts on Veilguard (Spoilers for all)

OK. Now that I've actually had a night to sleep on it, here's my more detailed thoughts on Veilguard beneath the cut. Spoilers for everything, of course. Also this is long as hell so have fun, I guess.

I am genuinely feeling so overwhelmed with emotion at getting what was honestly a happier ending for Solavellan than I thought was possible within the established canon. So let me just start off by acknowledging that the last 10 minutes of Veilguard left me feeling a lot more charitable about it than the previous 80 hours I played did. If you want a glowing review, this ain't it.

Gonna try to organize this into a few categories.

Character Customization

This is embarrassing but I actually rage quit the game after spending about an hour in character creation and finding I could not get a Rook that looked anything like I wanted her to look. The problem for me really was the 3 head types that morphed together - I found that to be too limiting to get something that looked like a real human face to me. Eventually I settled on something and, fortunately, got used to it quickly.

Being able to make a vallaslin-removed, 10-years-older version of my Inquisitor was an absolute dream. I had a lot of reference pictures of my DA:I Lavellan, so this was simpler for me than starting fresh with Rook.

Backgrounds

I played as a human Crow mage. The Crow background story was hilarious to me because you're kind of a fuck-up. Viago addresses you as "Idiot" in his opening letter to you at the start of the game. (Viago can call me an idiot any time, for the record.) I was impressed by how much reactivity there was dependent on my background, though I understand that some others (especially Grey Warden) have even more options because they're so closely tied to the parts of the lore this story primarily focuses on. I'm excited to try some others if I can muster up the energy to play this game a second time (more on that to come).

Combat

Drastically more fun than another other DA game. Your mileage may vary if you like the turn-based stuff from the earlier games, but I do not. I played as a Spellblade, got some perfect unique and legendary gear to work with that, and had a blast. Melee mage with electric powers is my absolute preferred thing to be. I felt entirely overpowered by about 35 points into the talents and ended up turning up the difficulty a little because I was killing things pretty easily. But then, because the spec didn't really change much after I hit that sweet spot, I turned the difficulty back down because I was pretty bored with just hitting the same combos and blocks over and over again. So, fun, but still got old after 80 hours of it.

Companions

BioWare companions have a tendency to hit very hard or miss completely for me with not a lot in between. Unfortunately, I found Veilguard to have more misses than hits.

Harding. While I know a lot of people really love Harding, she wasn't ever someone I paid a ton of attention to in Inquisition so I didn't have strong feelings about her return. I was glad that her personal quests gave us some more insight into the Titans and the Kal-Sharok dwarves, both of which are mysteries I was very invested in. (More on my thoughts about how those things played out in the Lore/Story section below.)

Neve. I absolutely loved the idea of Neve. I thought her design was beautiful and unique - loved, loved, loved her hats. I loved the idea of this lady Sherlock Holmes but I was disappointed that her story didn't really feel much like a detective mystery to me. Neve also really got the worst of it in my save - she had the injury at the start, I saved Treviso, and Elgar'nan kidnapped her at the end. So, needless to say, our friendship was a little strained (or as strained as friendships are allowed to be in Veilguard, which is not very). However, Neve getting to say "THIS IS MY CITY" as she uses the Blight against Elgar'nan? Fucking chef's kiss 10/10 loved that shit. Good for her.

Lucanis. As a huge fan of the Crow stories we got in Tevinter Nights, of course I was looking forward to Lucanis. I adored Spite - what a fun idea for a demon archetype to explore. I found the idea of the experimentation with forcing the creation of specific demons and getting them to possess non-mages pretty interesting. I was so enraged that the story wouldn't allow Rook or Lucanis to point out how obvious Illario's betrayal was - I mean, come the fuck on, Zara is literally calling Illario "amatus" as she dies. You're killing me, BioWare. I romanced Lucanis, so more on him as a character and the romance in the Romance section below.

Bellara. I was really uncertain about Bellara at first. It was clear she was going to be "a lot." But she actually really grew on me over the course of the game, and is probably the companion whose friendship I appreciated the most. I loved her banters with Lucanis about cooking and her discussions with Davrin about the implications of the Evanuris being total dickheads. She was one of the few characters in the game who I ever saw attempt to grapple with this (what should have been) ENORMOUS reveal that the Elvhen gods were real and very different than history remembered them (more on that to come, too). And I'd be lying if I said that her utter revulsion at the idea that Solas and Mythal could have been lovers (something I did NOT want) didn't earn her a shitload of loyalty points from me.

Davrin. Davrin felt the most like what I would expect a Dragon Age companion to feel like. He slotted perfectly into the lore but also advanced important parts of it. He was a fantastic example of a heroic Grey Warden but also had ties to his Dalish roots. He and Assan were adorable and I loved their journey together. I really felt like he had the best head on his shoulders of anybody in Rook's team, while also having a personal mission that very directly influenced and pushed forward the overarching narrative of the story. This is what a good companion looks like.

Taash. Boy, did I have a difficult time with Taash. Listen. As a cis lady (though admittedly a bisexual one who has many complicated thoughts about gender), I don't feel that it is especially my place to critique Taash's personal story. So I'll just say that I was frustrated by how often they felt like an absolute child to me - in a way that truly left me wondering why the hell Rook recruited an immature teenager for her team. I found Taash's relationship with their mother to be equal parts frustrating and touching, and I think that's fine and probably good. I wish Taash had given their mother a chance to tell us more about people in the Qun who are non-binary. I was excited to hear that lore and sad that Taash cut her off. I am always glad to see stories like Taash's in very popular media because I think stories instill empathy in us and empathy goes a long way toward acceptance. I do wish, however, that Taash's story was spoken about in a more "Dragon Age-y" tone, versus using the exact words and concepts that we do in the real world. It took me out of Thedas at times to hear how they framed their experience.

Emmrich. A little torn. My god, I loved Manfred. I loved Emmrich most of the time too. I thought his personal quest was fun, hilarious, and creepy. Someone had way too much fun with all those horror zoom-ins during the cinematics, and I am here for it. I loved what we learned of the Mourn Watch and Nevarra - both things I was really excited to see in a game. I think my reluctance to fully embrace Emmrich is simply that much of the information he provides is so similar to the sort of information Solas gave us in Inquisition. And so many players hated Solas for that, whereas I expect Emmrich will be much better liked overall because he delivers his advice a lot more politely than Solas managed to. So I guess I do like Emmrich, but my Solavellan heart is telling me that's a little disloyal.

Overall, my biggest complaint isn't even with the individual companions or their stories but with the absolutely awful pacing that dictates how those stories play out. If I don't play this game a second time, it's because of Act 2. All the running back and forth to have what I have been derisively referring to as "picnics" with your companions really soured me on them in ways that I don't think is very fair to the actual characters. I wish I didn't have to go the map and teleport to get 2-3 minutes of dialogue with someone. I wish I could talk to them more at the Lighthouse. I do miss the conversation wheels where I could just ask for more info. Combined with the fact that, at times, it felt like this was all I was doing for the entirety of Act 2, they had just worn out their welcome for me and i was desperate to advance the main plot.

I also just did not need 2 separate pep talks from Varric effectively saying "get your team's shit together and it'll be better for your bigger goals." I know, Varric. I am playing a BioWare game. You are explaining a BioWare game to me in a BioWare game. I don't need that. I'm here to fix my companions' shit. I signed up for that. Again, that dialogue just took me out of Thedas, and especially when he said it a second time.

Romance

Absolute, fucking nothing-burger with nothing-sauce and no cheese. And I know that this is not just about who I picked - I have looked at plenty of the other romances and talked to my friends who romanced other people. This game just doesn't have it. Spice level is like a dash of stale black pepper. A few cute party banters when you decide to pair up with somebody, but that was really about it. This is gonna be all about the fics for those of you who really wanted more from these characters.

I think you would get this scene regardless of whether you'd begun to flirt with him, but I did really like the first private scene you have with Lucanis where you walk around the Treviso markets and he picks out food items for everybody in the party. It was a lot kinder and more thoughtful than I expected from an assassin character, so I guess that's probably why I went with him. I didn't feel strongly about romancing any of the companions and I ended up going with Lucanis because I knew I was going to save Treviso since I was a Crow and I figured it'd be a lot simpler to romance him in this save versus a second where I save Minrathous. How romantic, right?

To the extent the devs said this was the "most romantic" Dragon Age game so far ... surely they were only talking about Solavellan, right? 😭

Lore/Story

Whew. Strap in. Cause I am conflicted and I'm ready to throw all my problems at the wall / people on Tumblr who haven't stopped reading yet.

Let me start by saying a few things about what I think makes a satisfying resolution to a story. I do not think it is at all a bad thing if your audience is able to guess - mostly or partially - the direction a story is taking. I actually think that can be a very strong compliment to your writing and to the intelligence of the breadcrumbs that you've left along the way. I read everything. I read every word of every codex. I read every novel. I read every comic even though I hate reading comics. I like being rewarded by seeing the knowledge I've gained from that work reflected back at me in the game. That is Good Shit.

I was thrilled to watch headcanon after headcanon (mine and others) confirmed as lore in this game. It was deeply satisfying to go back and look at notes I had made while writing Ruins in 2016 and 2020 about which Elvhen gods corresponded to which Tevinter Old Gods and find that I had all but 2 of them correct. (I swapped Elgar'nan and Falon'Din and I'm not even going to count that against myself because how the hell was I supposed to guess that the Evanuris associated with the SUN was aligned with the Tevinter god of NIGHT, fuck off lol). Good breadcrumbs are so deeply satisfying in a story like this and I cannot be thankful enough that we got all these little hints along the way that were waiting for us to discover them and fit the puzzle pieces together.

The thing of it is, that there are places where I think those breadcrumbs were followed to their least interesting possible conclusions. And that makes me a bit sad because I think it's pretty clear that this game is meant to neatly tie a bow on this geographical part of the Dragon Age world, and it's therefore pretty unlikely that we are going to get much more information to fill in the important gaps in knowledge we still have about the Blight and the Titans in particular.

The more I played this game, the more confused I became about the origins of the Blight, and that was especially frustrating for me because I honestly thought I had it very clear in my head after playing The Descent DLC. The Blight was like an infection or an immune response within the Titans' bodies to the invasion of the Evanuris. It was a consequence of their actions but not something created intentionally. To the extent I knew that Ghilan'nain was messing around with the Blight, I thought it was a fascination she developed with what seemed to be a naturally-occurring phenomenon, and not something she had intentionally, actively created herself. I came out of Veilguard being completely unclear with which of those two things is true and I do not think it is possible or interesting for both to be true. It is entirely possible I have missed something (somehow, in my very slow playthrough where I read every codex as soon as it become available to me), but my lingering suspicion is that the writers of this game never entirely made up their mind about the Blight's origins either. And that's a sad note to leave on, like I said, because I don't know that we'll see much of it again.

As for the Titans, I did enjoy seeing more of that story - and especially from THEIR perspective, not just Solas' memories - through Harding. Their anger was so just and important and I'm glad we saw some of that. However. A couple of big misses for me on the Titans. First, given how alien and huge and intimidating the "inside" of the Titan was in The Descent I just do not like the idea of them having these physical, humanoid-shaped bodies like the one we see in the mountains. I wanted something more abstract than that because I wanted them to be something mythical and fundamentally unknowable. Also, the absolute nonsense of introducing this idea that "angry" lyrium is red lyrium - but don't worry, it's not blighted! It's a totally different thing! That missed me so hard. What an unnecessary complication of straightforward lore. If you want the lyrium to look different to reflect the Titan's anger make it a different color, make it spark, do literally anything except use an existing mutation that already means one very specific thing to your audience.

So the Blight and the Titans were the two places where the lore fell down a bit for me. But I also was simultaneously excited to see Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain and also so underwhelmed by how mundane and "modern" (modern by Thedas standards) they seemed to me at times. I adored Ghilan'nain's model in particular. She was just as creepy, uncanny, body-horror as I have always wanted her to be. Both were fantastically acted. Absolutely no complaints there.

But in the same way that I wanted the Titans to feel suitably alien and distant from us, the players - the Warden, Hawke, the Inquisitor, Rook; people who did not live 10,000 years ago and cannot conceive of this world once being drastically different from how it now is - I wanted the Evanuris to feel SO far above us, so removed. They are not truly gods but they are so godlike in the scope of their power that I wanted them to look at modern Thedas almost like we were ants. The scope of their concerns should be so enormous that we are practically nothing to them. I found it wild when they called me Rook - that they cared enough to know my name? I didn't hate the idea of them grasping power wherever they could - with the Venatori, with the Antaam. But it just made them feel so much smaller than I had imagined. The fact that they called their dragons "archdemons" was a weird nitpicky sticking point for me. Surely they had their own word? Why would they stoop to adopting a word and a concept that never had a reason to exist in their culture?

Speaking of words, and names. I hated, hated everybody using Solas' real name. In my mind, the only people who should have gotten to do that were people who knew him as Solas in the Inquisition. That everyone else adopted it, versus calling him the Dread Wolf or Fen'Harel, whatever, really confused me. It felt so weirdly intimate to have people - even people who weren't party members, just fucking randos that are helping you - calling him Solas. I recognize that this probably a "me" problem and it would be more confusing for new players to have the same character referred to by different names. But still, the part of my Inquisitor who still lives in my heart wanted to just slap anybody out here going around using his name like it was theirs to use.

The exponential increase of the use of magic in the North of Thedas was both something I anticipated and also still way beyond anything I expected. We knew attitudes about magic were drastically different in the North. Dorian's character in Inquisition was a great way to prime us for that shift. Fundamentally, though, I believe Dragon Age as a series has always been concerned about the risks and the consequences of magic use. Those risks are not less in the North. It's simply that they find the risks more acceptable and have different customs and safeguards in place to facilitate the kind of magic use they want.

But I saw NO risks for magic use in Veilguard. No sense that the huge quantities of energy being pulled from a VERY TATTERED AND DELICATE VEIL were worrying to anyone. If magic has become easier to use because of the events of Inquisition and the Veil's weakened state, maybe I could believe that. But somebody in the game needed to say it out loud. Otherwise, I'm just looking at a world where magic is a net positive so how stupid and cruel do you have to be to prevent its use? It makes the already dubious morals of the Chantry and Templars entirely reprehensible in retrospect because apparently if you just let people do any magic they want at any time, everything's peachy!

It was difficult to anchor myself to any particular idea of whether this amount of magic use was normal for my Rook, because Rook - regardless of background - is from the North. They're not an outsider. Thus, I'm counting on someone who is an outsider - maybe Harding? - to comment on it, to contextualize it, to make it make sense to me from the perspective of the South, which has always been the player's perspective until this game. I never got that and I wish I had because it would have been so much more interesting and nuanced.

Similarly, it was so challenging to be thrust in media res into a Thedas where everyone (save one obstinate First Warden) was entirely willing to accept that the Elvhen gods were real and were the cause of all the bad shit happening in the world. Listen, I get it. 10 years is a lot of time. Maybe huge, fundamental paradigm shifts have happened in Thedas. Maybe people are willing to believe unbelievable things. But to see very, very little recognition of that from the characters we encounter was jarring. As I said above, I was glad that Bellara and Davrin were able to contextualize some of this in their conversations and I assume an elf Rook maybe has more to say on it as well, but it just wasn't enough for me. This was a place where I feel like we were asked to fill in too many gaps in time and in knowledge and I ended up with the sense that the writing just "had" to begin at this point because it had so much other ground to cover.

And that was the biggest problem for me - not exactly with lore but with pacing. Veilguard decided to wrap up so many of the fundamental mysteries we have been dealing with for 4 games. That is a huge order and it takes a lot of time. As I said, I took 80 hours to play this game. I think that is plenty of time to tell a story as complex as this one needed to be without me coming out of it feeling like I still have questions that should have been answered. Because the game "wastes" so much time, especially in Act 2, especially with some aspects of the companion stories, there just isn't enough room left to do what it needs to do with the main narrative. I also honestly think it could have been split across 2 games - not that any of us want to wait another decade to have these stories resolved, but maybe I would have if I'd known they would have been resolved a little more completely. And, again, I wouldn't be so sad about this if it didn't seem so obvious that we are done with Thedas after this.

Finally, I was so devastated by the lack of Thedas politics in this game. There were so many wonderful opportunities for factions and countries to be pissed at each other, to be working against each other for drastically different goals. I think of this as another core aspect of what Dragon Age games are about. Inquisition obviously was the most political of the games in that sense, because you really were a political leader more than you were a hero. But all 3 of the previous games were worried about this stuff - worried about who's in power, who is subjugated, how can the world be changed not only by people with magical ability but also by those who have deep beliefs about what Thedas should be. Magical power and political power are both very real and both crucial in the prior 3 games. In Veilguard, magic is power, simple as that.

I think this is linked, at least partially, to the decision not to include too many prior decisions and possible world states into Veilguard. And, hey, I do get that. As a player who started with Inquisition I found the Tapestry very intimidating. Three games' worth of choices is a lot to ask of even returning players, let alone new ones. I can't fault them too heavily for this because god knows how many more years in development it would've taken to make all that work. But that doesn't make me mourn the losses any less.

And now, really finally, here's a list of questions that I really don't need anybody to try to answer for me but which I cannot get out of my head and are kinda breaking the plot for me:

Hey so like, how was Solas (weakened state Solas at the end of Inquisition) capable of "murdering" Mythal? Like what power did he have that could have overcome hers? Even if he did have that power how COULD he kill her if he was still bound to her at that point? (I have always read that cutscene as Flemeth at least partially consenting to give Solas her power - not because I'm trying to give him a charitable read but because I honest to god don't understand how it's possible if she's unwilling.)

I think I'm even more confused about the orb/focus from Inquisition now. Obviously if he'd gotten it Solas wouldn't have had to take Mythal's power. But like, why did he have it in the first place? Was it something only he had? What was its original purpose? Cause the dagger seems to have taken its place in terms of importance/power level and containing the Titans.

How the fuck did Solas cleanse the red lyrium idol/dagger?

What happened to those Sentinel elves like Abelas? Where the fuck did they go? Whose side are they on?

What about the elves disappearing into the forest?

Still the stuff about the Blight.

I'm sure there's a lot more but I'll leave it at that because we've got to get to ...

Solavellan

Guys. I was so afraid of this game for so long. I'm not sure what I really expected or what had me so worried. I've always told my friends that the best ending I can imagine for Solavellan is the Inquisitor and Solas "dying on the same sword." What I meant by that was that I fully accepted their ending would be tragic (I truly saw no alternative) but I would be content if at least they died together - at least he didn't die alone.

What we got was honestly so much better than I wanted? LOL. Especially with Trick Weekes' recent clarifications. (Specifically, regarding where they are going: "She's speaking both romantically and literally. It won't be terrible if they're in there together." I AM DYING I AM LOSING MY MIND I'M SOBBING AND I'M SO HAPPY.)

I was screaming at my monitor - as I'm sure many of you were as well - "GO WITH HIM" when Solas finally gave in and bound himself to the Veil. I sobbed immediately, I woke up this morning and watched the cutscene again and sobbed again. I feel really grateful that this one ship in this one piece of media got such a tailored and thoughtful ending for it - especially knowing how many other choices from previous games had to be stripped away to make room for other things.

So, yeah. Given however many thousands of words I just put into this about all the shit I don't like? Still feeling pretty charitable right now because my girl Lavellan got the happy ending she so richly deserved.

(Side, and final, note: Jesus who made his wolf form look like that? Why would you do our boy so dirty?)

[waywardstation]

I just wanna say this ; I've been binging your Ao3 fics and so far my absolute favorite is Lets get you back to her! It's just, it's everything to me. It's so cute, and I love how the past and present parallel each other. And uhhhh the ending destroyed me.

I honestly can't wait for the sequel to it. I'm betting my bank account it's gonna be called Lets get you back to him.

Imagine if Ingo and Emmet took a trip to Sinnoh before, and Ingo got lost in Jubilife trying to meet up with Emmet. And then Johanna to the rescue, she guides him to the Cafe he's meant to be at, and then Emmet waves him over and draps an arm over his shoulder as he teases him about getting lost. And then it cuts to the present (a couple months after the first fic), where Johanna and Akari lead him to Gear Station or something, and then Emmet comes in running and tackle hugs Ingo in a tearful reunion.

Or maybe on a funnier note, Johanna tries to email Emmet like "hey come pick up your brother", but either never gets a response or Emmet doesn't believe her. So she hauls Ingo all the way to Unova (doesn't matter Ingo is legally dead or has no documentation on him, she's a famous coordinator and she can pull some strings), and takes him to Gear Station like "okay here he is".

In regards to my fic Let’s Get You Back to Her (Once again tumblr will not let me link the post to the fic, if you haven’t read it and want to, you can find it in my pinned post!)

THANK YOU FOR SUCH A FUN ASK ANON!! First off I’m so, so happy to hear that you want to binge read my stuff! ;0; <3 thank you!! I’m so glad to hear you like Let’s Get You Back to Her as well, it’s still one I really like!!

(Also, ‘Let’s Get You Back to Him’ is a PERFECT sequel title wow. I didn’t even think about that!! Kudos to you because that’s really good haha)

AND I REALLY LOVE YOUR IDEAS ANON THOSE ARE SO FUN!! The email variation is so funny because yeah I’m sure by that point Emmet would look at that email and think it’s a sick joke of some sort. Gotta drag Ingo over there now to prove it’s not!!

But the cafe idea is so sweet!! Now instead of Ingo bringing a lost Akari/Dawn back to Johanna, now Johanna’s gotta be the one to bring Ingo to Emmet haha. I really like that idea! And then doing it again at Gear Station, once again bringing Ingo back to Emmet but this time it’s much more emotional. Ahhh!! ;0;

Love these ideas anon! Thank you for sharing them!! But about how the sequel might actually go now…

Big ramble below about how I feel the originally planned sequel to LGYBTH would have to be different now, considering I still want it to be canon to my entire narrative, but also have to consider the events of IWLYB.

—————

The sequel is actually something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, so this ask was perfect timing haha. LGYBTH was written before I had really started constructing an overarching narrative in my works, so if you’re aware of my WIP fic I Won’t Leave You Behind, that fic would sort of change the sequel, as the sequel would come immediately after it — it basically involves Akari bringing Ingo back with her to modern day Sinnoh, and getting him to a hospital after he sustained a serious injury from an alpha garchomp while protecting her.

It changes a lot of circumstances, and would almost certainly have Johanna get to the hospital first. She would have some time there with both Akari/Dawn, and Ingo, though he probably isn’t all there for a while.

I feel like Ingo would probably take some time to identify, being in an entirely different region altogether with no form of identification and still lots of his memory missing (that is, when he’s even alert), and he is probably moderately known at best by the general population in Sinnoh.

Ingo would have to depend on Akari/Dawn and Johanna to really get things going and alert Emmet to get over to Sinnoh and see him.

I feel like during the time Johanna and Akari/Dawn are in the hospital with Ingo, just the two of them, Johanna would get to hear her daughter tell her everything that Ingo did for her, including what he did to end up in the hospital in the first place (and Johanna would probably be the one to tell Akari/Dawn that they had met him before, and he was the one who found her when she was lost in Gear Station when she was little).

Johanna would be so grateful, I’m sure that (with Akari begging her to haha) she’d insist that Ingo and Emmet stay at their house for a bit once he’s able to keep recovering outside of the hospital. Maybe even let Emmet stay there before that, just so he doesn’t have to keep paying for a hotel just to stay close to Ingo.

But this stay would be relatively short. I have a big reason as to why, and why Emmet would not initially be able to take Ingo back to Unova with him after he recovers, but I want to cover that when I actually get the fic out :)

It has gotten a lot more complicated now that I’ve built up so much more of the overarching narrative since then, but I feel like overall it can still wind back around to being very close to the originally planned LGYBTH sequel!

There is still a lot to consider and go through, but I’m having fun figuring out how to connect everything :) thank you again for the ask kind anon!!! I’m so happy you like my works!!

[ebonysplendor]

Screen Shrink (#1?): Milo Change

**This was written for funsies, strictly for funsies, and only for funsies. This is not meant to be taken seriously or as fact**

Okay, so...changing gears a little bit here from my typical game schpiels, but it's like, we've been hanging out together for a few months now, yeah? Yeah, so it only makes sense that I can share some of these little weird quips of mine.

So, fun fact, I am a mental health therapist~! So that means that I make money by listening to people vent to me about their problems, concerns, traumas, and all of that and helping them work through it. Another thing that I do for money is diagnose them. Kinda cool, huh?

Now, the reason why I shared that with you is because, I involuntarily start diagnosing characters when I watch TV and movies, or read a story or news article, or play video games...or visual novels lol. Anyways, the sole reason of this post being created was because I've been plagued with these thoughts for a while, and no one I know IRL either play or will admit that they play visual novels, so I have no one to share these specific thoughts with.

I may or may not make this a thing on my blog but meh. I just have to get this one in particular out. All of that being said...tell me that (OG) Milo Change doesn't meet the criteria for Adjustment Disorder with Mixed Anxiety and Depressed Mood.

Please let me explain, because this has been burning me for months.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Okay, so listen... Actually, let me preface this first.

People are very unique and very odd, and because of that, people don't always fit cleanly into a diagnosis. Why did I mention that? Because, sometimes, based on what a client is describing, it can fit the criteria of a certain condition but not meet the exact requirements. It's like when doctors diagnose an illness; you don't have the exact 3 symptoms for the flu, but you have 2 of them, so they diagnose and treat it like the flu until proven otherwise, hence why they say "flu-like" symptoms versus just "the flu".

Okay, so anyways, I said that, because some of you are probably like "Nah, Milo definitely has anxiety", and you wouldn't be wrong! Milo absolutely fits the criteria for Generalized Anxiety Disorder, but remember that thing I mentioned about the "flu-like" symptoms? Therapists do the same thing. We either give a broad/general diagnosis (because we've gotta bill them under something, even if it's just very mild depression, so we can keep seeing them) or we give an extremely specific one; Milo's is -- or appears to be, because again, people are unique and odd, and what I see another therapist may not -- an extremely specific one, which is Adjustment Disorder with Anxiety and Depressed Mood.

In order to meet the criteria of Adjustment Disorder, you pretty much would have had to undergo a big change within the last 3 months, like a divorce, getting out of jail, having people move in, or something of the sort. Now, the "mixed anxiety and depressed mood" are what are known to be "specifiers" and those are pretty much exactly what they sound like -- they make the diagnosis more specific or explain it a bit more.

All that being said, it appears that Milo meets the criteria for Adjustment Disorder with Anxiety and Depressed Mood because:

- He had a major change in scenery from a small town to a bustling, city-based campus (adjustment) - Technically, we could include that he's getting used to being this psycho's someone's significant other...yeah, let's add that as an extra layer (adjustment) - He also has very low self-esteem and self-worth, so that very likely means he struggles with feelings of worthlessness (depression) - He be a touch starved boy (depression) - He has a pretty shitty set of "friends" that frequently mistreat him (depression), and this poor kid is probably trying to do everything in his power not to piss them off, but it's a constant guessing game (anxiety) - But he also opts to have them versus no one at all because it's hard enough putting yourself out there to meet new people to start with. Still though, it's like...damn, to be mistreated or to be lonely (depression and anxiety) - He's pretty jumpy when you speak to him, stutters a lot, (it looks like) he fidgets with his clothing, he's a nail biter, and frequently avoids eye contact (anxiety) - Not to mention that this poor baby has a general mistrust of new people being nice to him since he immediately thinks that they want something from him or playing a joke on him (anxiety)

Like, come on. You cannot TELL ME that that isn't -- likely -- adjustment disorder with anxiety and depressed mood. The man is 100% an anxious wreck, but like, shit, I would be, too, if I left my familiar shitty environment to a totally new shitty environment; I knew what to expect at home, not so much here, ya get me?

Now, would I change this diagnosis down the line? Absolutely, because, if he's still an anxious wreck 6 months down the line, clearly it wasn't the change in environment that had him on edge like that, or rather that's not the thing that's continued to have him on edge like that. Initial visit, though? This is 100% what I would've given him if I did his assessment.

I just had to get this off my chest. I've kept this to myself for MONTHS now, and I just couldn't anymore man! But what do you think? You think another diagnosis would've fit him better? Meh, probably.

Anyways, thanks for letting me share that. I have a lot more characters I have diagnosis for that I'd love to share one day. That honestly may be sooner rather than later since I've broken the seal lol.

Welp, I've met my yap quota for the day...at about 2 in the morning (as of writing this) lmao. Big preesh for getting this far. Remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

**This was written for funsies, strictly for funsies, and only for funsies. This is not meant to be taken seriously or as fact**

[venomwrites]

More of the missing moments fic!

Follow up to this fic, full thing is on Ao3. Fill ins for the missing time between 2x07-2x08. Each fic can be read on its own but they kind of work well together.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor who has indulged her so much says, “if it were any other circumstances—“

“No,” Caitlyn stops him.

What is a bribe if there is nowhere to spend it?

Ambessa’s ships have been arriving consistently. They loom in the harbor, a threat and a promise. No merchant ship would dare to enter their waters and risk her wrath. And hers means so much more than Cailtyns. No merchants means no supplies. No supplies means that whatever patients can be cared for by loved ones need to be moved. Taken home. 

“She is stable and waking up,” he says, “it will continue to be a process. Your father—‘

“We will manage,” Caitlyn says, “when do I need to move her?”

“Today?”

She is not ready for that.

She is not ready to have this still creature who was once Vi come back to her home. Come back painted in all of Caitlyn’s sins and just be there until she’s strong enough to tell Caitlyn what a monster she is. For all the longing for Vi’s voice drove her to feed Jinx, she does not know how she is going to handle hearing it from her. 

“Alright,” she says instead, “let me dress her.”

Vi exists in some kind of twilight state. She sleeps most of the day. All of the day actually. Occasionally her grey eyes will slit open. Caitlyn does not know what she sees but she tries to stay out of view. She makes more noises though. Groans and pained whimpers that cut through Caitlyns core. All the time she spent wishing Vi would let her in and she cannot bear to see this pain. 

She really is a coward. 

There is a bag she has ready to go for Vi. It has money, clothes, some provisions. Enough to get her around the Undercity. Caitlyn has her sizes from her putting on the blue gear. She’s gotten things that are comfortable but not prison clothes. Though Caitlyn knows it would be easier to put her back in those loose striped pants. 

Or it would be if Caitlyn hadn’t burned them. 

Instead she picks up the black pants Vi has been living in. She has no idea what she paid for them but what it cost to get them clean made even her housekeeper gasp. Caitlyn doesn’t care. They are one of the only two garments Vi owns. She can do nothing but she can clean her stupid snug pants. 

Caitlyn works underwear up Vi’s legs and the pants on top of that. All practical, comfortable garments that mirror what Vi was wearing as best she can. She’s paid people to continue moving Vi’s limbs while she’s unconscious. The loss of muscle mass has been minimal. It keeps Vi looking like herself. 

It also makes pulling the pants up her legs hard. Not just because VI’s lets are all muscle but because Vi is all bulk.

Caitlyn manages anyway, working the pants up as high as she can. Then she has to slide her hand under the small of Vi’s back and get them the rest of the way up. Caitlyn sometimes feels as though she knows Vi’s body better than her own now. 

She hates that most of all. 

This is not how she wanted to learn it. Not with Vi laying here carrying the weight of all her sins. She wanted to be let in. To build that gentle trust between them until Vi never said anything like ‘oil and water’ ever again. Instead she managed to destroy it. Even before Vi left. 

It’s hard being loved like that

Jinx’s voice echoes in her ears. She hates the truth in her words. Vi loves with her entire soul. Carelessly, recklessly, blindly. Caitlyn has no idea where she gets the bravery from. It’s hard and it hurts an in the end it comes down to the choice of hiding from it or stepping into it. Trying to reciprocate it. Not being afraid of failing to reciprocate it.

What do you shoot for Kiramman?

Flat grey eyes are open.

They look at her and Caitlyn has no idea if they can see her. Given Vi has not bolted up from the bed and started telling her what a monster she is, she has a feeling they cannot. It doesn’t make it any easier to be caught in their orbit though. Do you hide from love or do you try to love the sun?

“Your pants are tight,” she says. Because Vi does not do small talk, “they are your pants, by the way.”

The grey eyes flutter closed and rationally Caitlyn knows its because of her injuries. Irrationally she finds it annoying. 

“If you’re trying to avoid having to wear a shirt, I’m sorry to say you’re out of luck,” she continues. 

The top is designed cleverly with a few snaps that can lay it flat open. However, the design flaw is apparent in that Caitlyn has to lean over Vi to pull it under her shoulders. This time though when her hands brush Vi’s side, she feels her muscles tense in response. It’s the first time she’s felt anything like actual life from her in so long. She can’t quite stop the sharp inhale as she looks down at the pained look on Vi’s face.

“Shhh,” Caitlyn has not soothed anyone since the grade school girls bathroom when boys broke their hearts, “you’re safe.”

“W—“ Vi tries to get the word out through dry lips. 

“Jinx is safe, she’s with us,” she knows Vi will not remember this. She just has to pray it goes through whatever fear is trying to wake her up, “I’m going to take you home.” 

None of that seems to make Vi feel better enough to relax. Caitlyn can see the heart rate monitor start to pick up. Distress. It’s normal as she wakes, but Caitlyn knows in her bones she’s the cause of this particular time. More than all the others. Before her mind can say why this is not a good idea, Caitlyn does the only thing she can think of. 

She strokes the back of her knuckles down Vi’s cheek. 

The effect is so instant Caitlyn half thinks she made up the previous moment. Vi lets out a shuddering breath and turns her face towards the side Caitlyn stroked. Caitlyn hesitates only a moment before repeating the gesture, trying to do it as gently as possible but also making sure Vi can feel it in her fog. A soft sound spills from her lips as she again tries to follow. So Caitlyn flattens her palm against her cheek entirely. 

“Ca-it,” Vi sighs her name. 

Like she’s been dreaming of this. 

Caitlyn saw the way Vi looked when she worked up the courage to touch her. It made her want to never stop. She wanted to touch Vi gently until the surprised, longing look in her eyes went away. Until those touches were so normal they barely registered. 

Of course Vi would be dreaming about that.

She loves you.

What if she chooses me again?

“I love you,” she blurts out, “Jinx loves you—you are so loved,” she tells the sleeping woman, “right now you need to sleep so I can take you home. Just sleep.” 

Vi’s breath hitches but she relaxes as Caitlyn strokes the skin under her eye. Caitlyn keeps her hand there as she pulls the folds of Vi’s top gently over her torso and tries to fit the snaps together. They are sturdy though. She trails her fingers along Vi’s skin. Vi lets out a deep breath as sleep takes her back away. Caitlyn fits the snaps together and sits back. 

Carefully she reaches out and pulls Vi’s plait free. The unshaved side of her hair has gotten so long. Caitlyn thinks to cut it but stops herself every time. Most of the time she knew Vi, her hair was not her choice. When she came back it was clear it hadn’t been cut. Without the stiffness of the greasepaint thee was enough to pull back. Then to plait into a braid. The first time Caitlyn had seen it her heart lurched at the familiarity. But now it suits her. 

For safety they transport her with medical support. 

It’s hard to see her limp again, mask over her mouth and nose, monitors beeping. The bandages she’s kept on her forearms now snake higher, making sure the tubes stay in place. Only the sight of the street clothes Vi wears keep Caitlyn grounded. She is home and they will deal with whatever comes next. 

“Where are we taking her?” 

“My room,” Caitlyn orders.

If they have any thoughts on the matter they say nothing. Caitlyn follows them into her room. What she is not expecting is to see her father standing on her bed. He’s been a shell of who he was. It’s a pain that Caitlyn cannot deal with at the moment. Has not been able to deal with. He flits in and out of rooms and her vision, opening his mouth but never fully getting out what he wants to say. 

“What are you doing?” Caitlyn asks. 

“They told me you were bringing her home,” he says, “you need somewhere to hang the fluids.”

“Yes,” she says, “but—“ 

What is she still doing here?!

What will you do if she chooses me?

“Ma’m—“ one of the medics interrupts her fumbling mind. 

“Put her here,” her father says, motioning them in. 

She watches as they move forward with more confidence than she has seen. Confidence because a doctor is motioning them forward. Her father directs them like it’s a second nature. Like he has not been listless this whole time. His practiced hands follow the tubing and inspect the ports. He treats her like any other patient and it is both infuriating and heartwarming. When he is satisfied he turns to Caitlyn. 

“Why?” Caitlyn asks finally, “you said she doesn’t belong here.” 

Shame crosses her father’s face. Her father is not a Kiramman by blood, he’s one by marriage. Respectable family but not one of equal stature. Caitlyn had never noticed how people looked at him until she was older. She had never planned on falling in love anyway so it was never something she cared to think about. Now she stands in front of her bed with the pair of them and wonders how her mother must have felt all those years ago. 

Of all the people in the room, the only one who truly belongs in the house is her. 

She will fight him if he tries to say otherwise. 

“Yes,” he says, “I was cruel.”

The fight slides out of her. She was cruel. They have both been cruel. Careless. She walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Her father lets out a breath and wipes at his face. Only then does Caitlyn realize he’s trimmed his beard. 

“I’m going to keep the medics visiting when they can,” she says, “but when they can’t—“

“Whatever you need,” he agrees. Caitlyn nods her thanks, “did you—talk?”

“No,” Caitlyn says. Her father gives her a look, “No! She’s been unconscious.” 

He waits a moment. Caitlyn thinks he’s not going to speak. 

“She would be furious you had a girl in your room.” 

The wound of her mother pulls. But it doesn’t reopen with the same agony. For the first time Caitlyn almost feels like smiling at the thought. Of course she’s snuck girls into her room before. And her mother has been livid because you’ll get a reputation, Caitlyn. It’s always been her father who caves more easily. Caved more easily. Tobias! It is not funny! It’s her house now, she can bring in whoever she wants.  

“She would be just as upset you let me do it,” she says glancing up at the hook. 

Her father waves his hand. 

“I’ll go make tea.” 

Caitlyn approaches the bed. The drapes have changed, they do with the seasons, but it’s easy to remember Vi sprawled out on her covers. Complimenting her work. The bed is huge, big enough for many people. But Vi’s presence is the only thing that matters in it. Caitlyn sits on the edge and contents herself with watching for a long moment. 

What if she chooses me?

“I don’t care,” she says aloud. 

“About what?”

Shit, the tea. 

Caitlyn tries to smile at her father like she hasn’t been talking to the ghost of her mother’s murderer. Vi bears all of Caitlyn’s sins and Caitlyn feels the weight of that. But somewhere under thee is still a knot of anger. Of hurt. One that lays dormant but Caitlyn knows is not gone. She thinks of Mel and wonders if she also had her mother burning somewhere in her. But those women are not in this room. 

“I’ve been visiting Jinx,” she says, looking down at the tea, “it was the right thing to do,” she says firmly, cutting off any protest he might give. Then she continues softer, “She asked me what I would do if Vi chose her again.”

She does not expect a response from him. She doesn’t know why she’s telling him this. Maybe she’s using him to test out the conversation. He’s safe. If he slips away Caitlyn knows she can keep him alive. Here. She immediately tastes acid n her mouth at the realization and quickly sips the tea. It’s so hot it burns but that gives her something to focus on. 

“I’ve been going over family finances to keep busy,” he says. Caitlyn feels her ears burn, even though it’s her money. She can do whatever she wants. But numbers have always comforted her father. She doesn’t need to justify her actions, “you built an entire prison in a month.”

Words like bureaucracy and tradition had been thrown around when Caitlyn was presented with the blueprints of Stillwater. So she did the only thing she could think and built a new prison. Nearby. Still a prison, still hell, but one that had things conductive to human life. One where people were locked up but did not rot as nameless, faceless numbers in the bowls. 

“The infrastructure was already there,” she dismisses. 

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t think her choice matters.”

Caitlyn sees red and shifts, blocking Vi from her father. 

“Of course her choice matters,” she says, trying to keep her voice down, “how could you say something so—so—“ she fumbles for how horrible the words sound, “cruel.”

Her father watches her calmly. His calmness cuts through her. He watches her like he knows her. Like she’s still Caitlyn somewhere under the authority and pain. It makes her feel small. It doesn’t matter. She will not let him say such cruel things about Vi. Even if he is her father and she loves him dearly. She will protect her. The corners of his lips quirk up and confuse her further. 

“Your mother would kill me,” he says.

“Why?” Caitlyn dares. 

“She always said if you brought a girl you loved home you had to stay in separate rooms until you were properly engaged.”

Do you love her?

I love you

Everything in Caitlyn’s chest seizes and unravels. Refits itself around the new truth that burns there. Yes she hates Jinx, yes she wants Vi to choose her. Yes Vi wears all of her sins and the guilt chokes at her when she looks at her sometimes. It hurts to be loved like Vi loves. 

What will you do if she chooses me?

I don’t think the choice matters. 

Caitlyn knows she will spend the rest of her days trying to be worthy of that blinding love. 

No matter what Vi chooses. 

Her father picks up the tea cup and touches her shoulder. But all Caitlyn can do is stare at Vi. With her lone braid an infuriatingly tight pants and heart that is bigger than anything Caitlyn has experienced. Even the memory of her love makes Caitlyn want to try. Need to try. Just try. 

“Let’s not tell her when we visit,” he suggests. 

In Noxus we don’t talk to the dead. 

“No,” she agrees, “not yet.”