#surely if i find the right word i will be able to make this work into the way it exists in platonic perfection in my head...

[narnian-neverlander]

One Night Stands Only [Jason Todd x GN!Reader]

Summary: It’s obvious Jason only has one night stands - right?

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Came across the DC Valentine’s special again and… yeah. Decided to do sth about it 💁

If you use any of my works for AI I will hunt you down for sport 😬

“You were right, it’s a nice place.” Bernard nods appraisingly, glancing around the newly opened bookstore, little café situated right in the middle. It’s not a new concept by any means, but the high ceilings and big windows allow the little natural light Gotham has to brighten the entire place and the cozy couches and booths scattered between shelves make for a nice and different respite from what the city usually has to offer. Tim hums in approval as he glances over the menu again. “Yeah; quiet, comfy, good coffee selection. I should thank the person who recommended it.”

“And who was that?” Bernard asks over his shoulder before greeting the girl working the counter and placing their order. Tim’s brows immediately furrow. “It was… I heard about it from… Uhm…” The blonde chuckles as he steers his boyfriend towards a nearby table, eyes flicking towards a corner sofa. “You think it might’ve been your brother?” Tim snorts. “Which one?” He receives a gesture at something behind him as an answer and finds Jason sitting on one of the couches a little further back, book propped open in his lap and a few more stacked on the small, round table in front of him and Tim nods. “Okay, sure, that tracks.” Bernard watches over Tim’s shoulder a few moments longer, then a small smile forms on his face. “I mean, yeah, it is a nice place for a date.”

Tim’s head snaps back around so fast it’s comical, a disbelieving, almost scandalized ‘Date?!’ out of his mouth before he can stop it. Sure enough, someone else has joined his brother, just in the process of placing two cups on the table - or trying to anyways; an almost impossible task with the amount of books already occupying the small space. And while he might not be able to hear either of you, he wouldn’t be part of a family of world class detectives if he couldn’t read lips.

‘Okay, should I just get like, a whole teapot now? How long do you plan on being here?’

‘Eh, not long.’

‘Jay, even you can’t read five books at once.’

‘Watch me.’

A cocky grin and an eyebrow waggle, which earns him an eye roll from the mystery person, albeit attached to a fond smile, followed by a shooing motion to scoot further down the sofa and make space, to which he obliges immediately. Tucked into Jason’s side, his arm coming around your shoulders entirely too naturally as both of you go back to your books, seemingly all settled and content to simply be in the other’s presence like this.

Tim turns back to his boyfriend with brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line and fingers tapping his chin in thought - and Bernard knows exactly what that look means. “Tim, switch outta detective mode. Your brother has a date, so what?” But the gears are clearly already turning and not stopping anytime soon. “It’s just… Jason only has one night stands.” It’s a look somewhere between surprise, disbelief and even offense before the blonde speaks up again. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous? You don’t know if—“ Tim vehemently shakes his head to interrupt him. “No, no, I mean that’s literally what he told me; what he tells anyone from the family who asks, as far as I’m aware.”

Bernard’s eyes move over to the couch again, simply observing for a few seconds before he shrugs. “Well, one night stands don’t exclude a date. Or maybe he’s changed his mind. People are allowed to do that, you know.” he says with an easy grin right as the little round sensor on their table starts vibrating, indicating their order is ready. He snatches the device up and stands, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder, effectively gaining his attention. “Either way, I don’t think it’s anything for you to lose sleep over. Or any of your business, to be honest. If he is in a relationship and you don’t know, I’m sure he has his reasons.” He grabs the hand Tim has been busy biting the cuticles off of and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Just let it go, detective.”

With that he’s gone to pick up their drinks, meanwhile Tim almost turns his head to look at the couple again, but ultimately decides against it, instead racking his brain for wether or not any of his other siblings ever mentioned Jason having a partner, but nothing comes to mind. Fingers drumming against the table, he’s one spiraling thought away from getting up and going over there to satisfy the annoying itch of curiosity, but then he watches Bernard walk back towards him, a coffee cup in each hand and a happy smile on his face, his own heart skipping a beat at the sight, and he realizes that his boyfriend’s right. It doesn’t matter right now, nor is it any of his business; if this is someone, important to Jason, he would tell them - in his own time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay I had my doubts, but that was pretty good.” Stephanie states as she stretches her arms over her head, following the crowds out of the theater into the big entrance hall. Cass grins and nods enthusiastically in agreement, while Babs only shrugs and hums in thought. “I mean, sure, it was good; solid storytelling, breathtaking visuals, but—“

“I still think the book’s better, though.”

They all know it’s exactly what the redhead was gonna say, but it doesn’t come from her. Even so, the voice is familiar and all three of their heads snap up almost in unison to look for the source.

A joyful laugh, from around the pillar a little ways in front of them, followed by, “That’s the most Jason thing you could’ve said, ya know.”

Now that voice isn’t familiar to any of them, neither is the person who appears in their field of view a second later, hands linked with someone still hidden by the pillar - not that it’s still much of a secret who it is.

“So? It’s still true.”

The soft grin on the stranger’s face morphs into something more mischievous. “Riiight. I’m sure you hated every second of this. That’s why I saw some tears during a scene or two.”

A squeak as the person gets yanked forward, disappearing from sight again; then laughs can be heard accompanied with, “It was dark, you didn’t see shit.”

The three girls exchange glances, all wide eyes and raised brows. Then they watch the couple walk out into the open of the entrance hall, towards the exit, one of Jason’s arm’s wrapped tightly around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Cassandra is the first to shake off the stupor, a soft smile spreading across her face. “They’re cute together.” she signs. “Yeeeaaahhh…” Steph starts, staring at the doors the two had just left through. “Too cute. And definitely too familiar to just be a one night stand.” The wicked grin is a telltale sign of trouble and Barbara pinches the bridge of her nose because it doesn’t bode well for anybody.

“Just leave it alone, Steph.”

“Oh come on!” the blonde complains. “He’s the one who’s been telling us for ages that he doesn’t do relationships and now he’s out here all sweet and cozy and lovey dovey with someone? And you’re not the least bit curious? I say we investigate!”

Barbara levels her with a blank stare. “And you don’t think that might be the exact reason he doesn’t tell us anything?” Stephanie narrows her eyes at the redhead in suspicion. It’s unlike her, unlike Oracle, not to want all the details of a situation. “Did you already know?”

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“Because you know everything. And wouldn’t you—“

Barbara doesn’t let her finish. “Would you want a date to be interrupted by your siblings just cause they feel like annoying you? Pestering you about your partner? Jason isn’t the most open, conversational person at the best of times; what do you think is gonna happen if he catches onto your little investigation?”

Steph is about to argue back that sure, while there’s some personal entertainment value involved, she just doesn’t like the idea of someone she cares about being with someone she doesn’t know. What if they’re not a good person? What if they end up hurting him? What if—

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and she turns to find herself looking straight into Cass’ dark eyes, her expression serious.

“They really like him, don’t meddle.” she signs.

That takes some of the wind out of Stephanie’s sails and she visibly deflates a bit. “You, uh… you could tell, huh?” The black haired girl nods eagerly and Steph runs a hand through her hair in contemplation. People are an open book to Cassandra, without her ever having to have exchanged a single word with them. If she says you’re fine, that you truly like Jason and have no bad intentions, then… then Steph could leave it alone with an easy conscience. For now, anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for the assist, Master Richard, but I assure you, while welcome, it was not necessary.”

“It’s fine, Alfred.” Dick reassures while loading the last of the groceries into the back of the car. “I know you can handle the regular grocery shopping just fine, but it’s rare to have that many people at once at the manor; I’m glad to help out.”

The older man gives him a grateful smile in return, then plucks a piece of paper from inside his coat pocket and checks it over. “Oh dear, I do believe I’ve missed something.” he mumbles and hands the list over to Dick. “Master Richard, would you mind looking our current purchase over again, just in case? I’ll be right back.”

He watches Alfred hurry back towards the store, someone else exiting when he’s a few feet away from the entrance. A short exchange, quick thanks presumably, as the person holds the door open for him. Then you steer left, in his general direction and—

Hold on. He wasn’t here when him and Alfred got outta the store a few minutes ago.

The parking lot is situated lower than the actual store, some stairs to his right leading up to the higher level, so Dick takes a few steps backwards and cranes his neck back slightly, a leafless hedge partly blocking his view, but the tall, broad stature clad in a leather jacket and the black and white hair are a dead give away. He’s about to call out, surely his brother just didn’t spot him yet, but someone beats him to it.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

The person who’d just left the store. Most definitely talking to Jason. And you seem more than a little annoyed and exasperated.

Meanwhile his brother looks like he’s trying not to burst out laughing.

“What?” the mystery person barks, eyes narrowed at the tall man suspiciously.

“I know I did not just watch you whack an old lady over the head with a magazine cause she tried to take the steak from you.”

“It was the last one!” you complain and the tension bleeds from Dick’s shoulders as he realizes that this is in no way a serious altercation. “Besides, Constance had it coming, not the first time she tried to pull a stunt like that; she’s a fucking menace to everybody.”

Silence for a few long seconds. Then, “If you laugh right now, I swear to God I’m leaving you out on the street tonight, Todd.”

Jason snorts. “And then who’s gonna make the food you fought so hard to get? Sure as shit not you; last time I left you alone with the stove, I thought Firefly had broken into the apartment.”

Dick watches his brother’s conversation partner huff, arms crossed over your chest in defiance as you stare Jason down - until your shoulders sag in defeat and you break eye contact, because apparently, he’s right. “You’re lucky you’ve got other talents besides just being pretty, you know that?”

Jason takes the bags from you, met with only mild complaints, as he grins. “You think I’m pretty? Aw, thanks, babe.” You roll your eyes at that, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips either way. “Leave the corny flirting to Nightwing, it doesn’t suit you.” And Jason actually has the audacity to scrunch up his face in distaste. “Hey now. I was only teasing you; comparing me to him is a straight up insult, take it back.”

“Make me~” you taunt with a sing-song voice and a mirthful smirk, then take off full speed in the opposite direction, past the store, with Jason hot on your heels not a second later.

And Dick hasn’t seen his little brother wear a smile that big in such a long time, he almost forgets to be offended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian isn’t sure why he’s even here. It’s not like this has any actual academic value for him.

That’s Chrysaora fuscescens.

Over there, Hippocampus hippocampus.

And that one’s Anguilla dieffenbachii.

He’s studied all these creatures and more before and even if he wouldn’t learn anything new about aquatic dwellers, his father had insisted on him going on this field trip. Something about a chance to ‘improve his social skills’.

Tt.

If that’s the mission he’d been given, he’d succeed. Even if he thought it utterly unnecessary. At least he could do it in the presence of one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet, the mighty—

“Shark! Jason, look, there it is!”

With the level of excitement, one would think it’s coming from a child, but no, it’s very much an adult, standing in front of the big glass tank, in the company of Todd of all people. Damian slows his steps to a halt, coming from one of the smaller side entrances that lead to the huge room, and simply observes from a safe distance.

“Uh huh, I see it. And I feel like now would be a good time to remind you that you have plenty of shark memorabilia and that we’ll simply be walking past the gift shop later.”

An inelegant snort, as the person side eyes him with amusement. “Would now be a good time to remind you that we both know that’s not happening?”

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose as he heaves a sigh, but Damian detects no true malice in it. He’s seen him truly irritated, angry - this is nothing of the sort. Fond exasperation, if anything.

“I know they’re nowhere near as dangerous as the media likes to make them out to be,” Jason starts, “but I’m still not sure how you can look at something decidedly dangerous, built for killing, and think it’s… cute.”

The look he receives in return is one Damian can’t quite identify and apparently neither can his brother.

“What?”

“Really? You can’t figure that out?” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head to the side in thought. “Well, I think you should meet my boyfriend, then. Cause ya know, he’s pretty dangerous and rough around the edges, too, and I still think he’s cute.”

Jason mimics your stance as he responds. “Oh, do you now?”

You nod eagerly, grinning ear to ear. “Of course. When he gets up all groggy with a bed head cause he works late? Cute. When he pretends to get annoyed at his best friend cause he called him a silly nickname? Cute. When—“ That’s as far you get, interrupted by your own squeal, as Jason brings one arm around your shoulders to pull you in and smoosh your face against his chest, the other around your waist so you can’t escape. “Yeah, yeah, got it; I think I’ve heard enough about that guy now.”

Meanwhile you’ve managed to gain enough wiggle room to loop your arms around his neck and pull back to look up at him, lopsided, lovesick smile plastered all over your face. “Sorry, I can’t help it sometimes; I love him very much.” And it’s embarrassing, Damian thinks, how fast Jason breaks, all affectionate grin and soft eyes, just because someone is batting their lashes at him. “Well, he’d be a fool not to love you back.”

Damian turns away in disgust right as the couple is about to share a kiss and retreats down the hallway he came from. He’d never taken Todd for a particularly… honorable man, but courting someone he knows to be in a relationship with someone else? That’s a vile breach of trust that he won’t stand for. And, if he bothered to be honest with himself, not something he could actually see Todd engaging in. Despite his many flaws, he’s proven himself a loyal man often enough. But Damian can’t ignore what he heard with his own ears, that would be disregarding incriminating evidence, so he’ll need to have a talk with his father as soon as he gets home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re curled up on the couch book in hand when the front door all but flies open, your boyfriend hurrying inside and immediately locking the door behind him again. Before you even get a chance to greet him, he’s speeding through the rest of the apartment, making sure all the windows are shut tight and locked, too. You’ve put the book away, instead staring at him over the back of the couch with raised, quizzical brows when he comes back down the hallway into the living room, finally kicking off his boots at the entrance and hanging up his jacket. Then he beelines for the sofa, lifting up your legs to make room and plop himself down, settling your legs in his lap before he tips his head back and scrubs his hands over his face with a groan.

“Okay, Jay? I need you to talk to me; what kind of apocalypse should I be preparing for here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few long seconds, simply drops his hands from his face, his fingers coming to draw anxious patterns into your thighs instead. “Yeah, we’re totally busted. They know about you now.” And as miserable as he looks, as much as you know that spending time with his family is often draining and challenging for him, you can’t help the relieved laugh that bubbles up out of your throat, because with they way he’d just put your apartment on complete lockdown, you’d been expecting something - or someone - way worse.

Still chuckling, you grab one of his hands and squeeze. “Sweetheart, your family literally consists of detectives. In my opinion, we’re damn lucky to have even made it this long without them knowing.” He sighs, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I’m not convinced Babs didn’t know before tonight. That woman knows everything.” While you’ve only heard stories and seen some pictures of the redhead, you have absolutely no trouble believing that. “So what happened, anyways?”

He mulls it over for a moment. “Well, I think it started when Damian tried to have me disowned.” You almost choke on nothing but air, a sound somewhere between a snort, a cough and a laugh leaving you. “Okay, you’ve completely lost me, babe.”

“Honestly, I was mostly just surprised I’m even still in the will.” A not so gentle nudge of your foot, an annoyed whine of his name because sure, you’d play along for now. Let him get the jokes and sass out of his system and pretend that you don’t see that the lazy grin he gives you is forced. That you don’t feel one his feet tapping the floor anxiously. That you don’t notice the way his eyes keep flicking towards the window and the door, like he’s expecting them to be kicked down any second now. “Apparently Damian saw us at the aquarium together and somehow assumed I’m your, uh, your mistress? And thought it dishonorable enough to bring up disowning me because of it.” Admittedly, picturing that elicits a real laugh, one you try to hide, but the next part still comes out as more of a wheeze than anything else. “And he just… what? Brought that up casually over dinner?” Jason shrugs. “Basically. Tried to talk my way outta it, but turns out some of the others saw us together, too, and things just spiraled from there.” It’s quiet for only a moment, then you, very much still intent on helping him distract himself from whatever it is that’s truly eating at him, but mixed with just a tad of entertained curiosity now, hit him with, “Well, yeah, makes sense; you have been getting sloppy.” His head shoots up from the back of the couch so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap and he actually looks offended. “How exactly is this my fault?”

“Come on, Jay. First couple of months of this relationship you wouldn’t even leave the house with me. Now? Grocery shopping, the movies, café dates, the aquarium - we’re barely apart, so it really was only a matter of time till they figured it out.” Rolling his eyes, he slides further down his seat and pouts, fully aware that technically you are correct - doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Great, helpful as ever, darling. And what do you, in your infinite wisdom, suggest we do about this now?” You regard him in silence for a moment: how he fiddles with your fingers, the set of his jaw, the furrow in his brows, the way every muscle in his body seems tense.

“Hey…” you murmur gently, interlacing your fingers. “Why do we have to do anything about this? What are you so worried about? I promise not to bite them when I meet them. Unless you want me to.” Careful prodding, still interlaced with humor - to let him know he can talk to you about it, but only if he wants to. He huffs out a quiet laugh, giving your intertwined hands a squeeze. “You can be such a gremlin sometimes, do you know that?” Bringing a hand to your chest in mock offense, you grin at him. “Oh, you do not get to call me a gremlin when you’re the one who consistently feeds me after midnight and gets me plenty wet.” The following eye brow waggle from your side is what breaks him; a full blown, joyful laugh as he shifts, picking you up and depositing you on his lap sideways, his arms encircling your middle, some of the previous tension visibly leaving his face. “See, that’s the exact kinda shit I don’t need you saying around them, cause I’ll never live that down.” Humming in thought, you get comfortable in your new position, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Sounds like a you problem, though.” It earns you a playful pinch to your sides that has you batting at his arms and hands to try and get him to stop; a fruitless effort of course, but he eventually settles his hands back on your hips. In turn, you place a hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat; most definitely too fast for simply fooling around with and teasing you. He’s not just worried, he’s scared, so you decide the time for games is over. “I’m being serious, though, what’s the matter? This isn’t anything you actually need to be concerned over, is it? It’s really not that big of a deal. So what if they know about me? So what if I eventually meet them now; not like it’s gonna change anything between us.” It’s small and if you didn’t know him as well you did, you probably would’ve missed it or written it off as irrelevant: the way he ever so slightly flinches at the last part.

Bingo.

But you don’t push, you know better. You let him get his thoughts in order, shifting restlessly beneath you while he does and let him answer in his own time.

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

A sigh, then you feel him rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I dunno. Being around you is always so… easy. Comforting. Being with them isn’t. It’s complicated and it’s messy and overall just exhausting, most of the time. It’s not all bad, just…” He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to get rid of an onslaught of memories; good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. “I guess I just don’t want them rubbing off on you, is all.” Pulling back to look at him, you find his eyes elsewhere, anywhere but you, desperate to avoid your scrutiny. “In other words, you’re worried your relationship with them, their opinions of you, are gonna affect mine, right?” He still can’t bring himself to look at you when he mumbles, “Basically…”

You shuffle about until you get your legs back under you, straddling him and cupping his face in your palms, running your thumbs along his cheek bones until he willingly brings his unnaturally green eyes back to yours and you feel like your heart might crack at the uncertainty you find there. “You’re forgetting that, aside from you, I’m probably the most stubborn person in this city; once I’ve made up my mind, it’s hard to change it. If anything, you should be worried about me not shutting the fuck up about how amazing and wonderful you are around them.” He scoffs and tries to turn his head out of your hold, but you refuse to let go and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose instead, effectively stunning him into obedience. “Uh uh, you’re not going anywhere, I’m not finished yet. I’m on your side, okay? Even if it feels like nobody else is. I’m judging you based on my experiences with you, not theirs. And sure, not everything’s been great; you’re not perfect and neither am I, but that’s human. We live and we learn and we fuck up and then we try again. And I know you try, Jason. Every day, I know you’re trying. Trying to navigate a second life you never asked for. Trying to live in a body that never feels right, no matter how much time passes. Trying to mend the bonds with a family that more often than not still sees the ghost of a boy looking back at them, instead of the man you’ve become. Trying to make things better in this city, so that no one has to go through the same things you did. And nothing your family could say or do or show me is ever gonna change what I see with my own eyes.” He’s been silent this entire time, letting you speak, but you watched his shoulders slump, the tension that’s kept him wound up like a spring finally dissipating, and his own hands are now gently holding onto your wrists.

“And what do you see?”

It’s barely above a whisper, so quiet, you almost miss it despite how close you are.

You don’t have all the answers. You don’t actually know what meeting his family is gonna be like, how it might affect your relationship, but this? Oh, this you can answer just fine.

“A man who’s scarred and deeply flawed, but is still trying to do better, to be better. A man who wants to make up for the mistakes he did make, but sometimes nobody cares to listen. A man who, for all his efforts to appear ruthless, is still the most caring person I know. I see a man who, despite life never having been kind to him, retained a kind soul.”

And with the way he’s looking at you right now? Nothing but wonder and admiration and affection written all over his face? How could you not be sure about what you’re gonna say next? Sure that no one, absolutely no one, would ever be able to change your mind about him.

“I see the love of my life.”

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 12)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings:

Word Count: 2957

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11)

_________________________________________

“I’m still not sure I understand,” you say, rubbing the grit from your tired eyes. “Would you mind walking me through it one more time?”

You swear you see Emerie roll her eyes in exasperation. You’re not even upset with your new tutor, it’s late, and you’re just as annoyed as she is, but there’s something about the way she’s explaining biological bases of behavior that you’re just not getting.

It doesn’t help that your entire week has been a juggle of avoiding almost everyone in your life.

You’ve felt just as sick as Gwyn was the night of her birthday all week long. For more reasons than one.

For one, you kissed one of your best friend’s cousin. For the second time. After she deliberately told you not to, and you agreed. For two, Rhysand hasn’t stopped trying to contact you since the incident, which you haven’t been able to stop thinking about. You haven’t answered him once, too worked up about the possibility of word somehow reaching Mor.

And the worst part is, you don’t even know if Gwyn remembers what she witnessed that night. Your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your butt. Mouths fused together, so tightly, so desperately. You had no intentions of stopping yourself, couldn’t if you wanted to. You’ve been thinking about his mouth pressed against yours since the very first time you kissed, and with a few drinks in your system, your confidence was off the charts. There was no one to stop you from taking what you wanted, what you both wanted, until your roommate barged through the door to catch you in the act.

You’ve been skirting Gwyn, walking on eggshells around your apartment, spending as much time as you possibly can outside your dorm, tucked between stacks of books in the library, hiding out in the commons. You’ve even gone as far as finding a dingy diner named Rita’s to hunker down and try to instill psychology into your brain. It’s mostly empty, and you’ve sort of befriended the waitress, or maybe she feels bad for you, growling down at your books in a futile attempt at studying, because the Shirly temples she delivers to your table somehow never make it onto your bill.

You’ve even managed to find a new tutor, though she’s about as good at teaching you as Rhysand is.

“I’ve already told you,” she points to the diagram in your textbook with the tip of her pen a little more forcefully than you’d like. Frustration furrows your brow, and you manage to keep your glare aimed at the book. “The cerebrum is the part that starts and manages conscious thoughts, and the cerebellum is the part that processes and regulates signals between other parts of your brain and body.”

It sounds like she’s read it straight from your textbook. Wait a second. You squint at the highlighted text right beside the photo. She is reading this right off the page!

You could fucking do that. You have, and you’re still just as confused. You need some real-life fucking examples, or you’re never going to pick this up. You have a practice quiz on Thursday, and even though it doesn’t count toward your grade, you want to do well.

Do well on the practice, ace the exam.

Simple.

Or, it would be if you could fucking understand.

You set your jaw, grinding your teeth. Rhysand would be so much better at explaining how all of these brain functions work. He’d even give you real life examples and flash cards to help you out. Emerie is doing none of that. She’s spent about half of the hour you’ve been here scrolling through her phone, and you’re pretty sure you’re just prone to having easily distracted tutors.

What have you put out into the universe to be gifted this back?

“Okay, I think I get it now,” you lie. If anything, you can come back to this. Emerie’s phone lights up on the table beside her and you slyly check the time. 8:30. Gods, when did it get so late? One minute, you were tucking your drawing pad in your cubby after the life drawing class you signed up for and the next moment, you’re seconds away from stabbing your pencil into your eye in the middle of the study room at the library. “Can we move onto the next thing?”

But Emerie isn’t even listening to you anymore. She’s frowning down at her cellphone, completely engrossed. Her face scrunches in the same disappointed look you’ve seen from her thrice tonight before she begins tapping a response.

You’re almost impressed at the number of letters she punches in in such a short amount of time. You’d hate to be the person on the other end of the phone with the essay of a message she seems to be writing. It must be almost as bad as being on the other side of her tutoring skills.

You decide to use the reprieve to check your own phone. There’s a message from your mother, something about a conversation she had at the convention her work sent her to. You don’t really understand what she’s talking about, so you click out of the thread with an air of disappointment. There aren’t any other texts.

Rhysand’s name calls to you like a siren. You hover over the chain, sadness curdling your stomach. You made the right decision to cut him from your life, but you’d be lying if you said it was easy. You’ve missed his flirtatious nature, the feeling of being wanted by someone, even if it was just for fun. You miss how helpful he was in your tutoring sessions, even if he was late on more than one occasion. You miss his violet eyes, gleaming with mischief as he teased you. You missed the curve of his wicked smile, the way they slotted perfectly against yours—

The door to your study room opens, drawing your and Emerie’s attention.

Your breath hitches as the very boy you’d successfully avoided for five days and counting saunters through the door like he fucking owns the place.

Your heart stammers in your chest at the sight of him. You don’t know how he found you, tucked away in the most discreet room in the library you could find. You would have invited Emerie over to your dorm room to study, if it weren’t for the whole avoiding your roommate’s thing you have going on right now.

Rhys looks just as fuckable as he did the last time you saw him. A waffled, white shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. The sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, offering you the perfect view of his forearms. To your dismay, he’s not wearing those sweatpants you love to see him in, but the dark wash jeans that fit snugly around his hips do just as much justice. A Velaris U snapback sits backwards atop his dark hair that curls around the edges post shower. You swallow hard, trying very hard not to think about how he’d look in the shower, toned body on display and water cascading down his muscles, down between thick thighs and dripping off the tip of his cock.

You clear your throat, cheeks heating as Rhys tilts his head. There’s a hint of a smile on his mouth, like he knows exactly where your mind went, because he’s thinking the same thing. His eyes trail slowly across your face, down your chest and torso to where the table hides the rest of your body.

Good thing, so he doesn’t see the way you have to clench your legs together.

“And who are you?” Emerie questions, but with her dry tone, you don’t think she really cares all that much.

You do, however.

“I’m her tutor.”

Emerie’s caramel eyes flicker between you and Rhys with a flash of intrigue. You hold your breath carefully as she decides if the captain of the hockey team looming over you is enough hot gossip to stay for the show. Anyone would be interested in watching this play out, but your new tutor seems less than interested in Rhys’ interruption.

Maybe she thinks you’re a lost cause, you think as she silently begins packing her things without so much as a mumble or an apologetic glance in your direction. If she is thinking there’s no hope for you in psychology, she’d be right. It’s been over an hour of working through the questions you got wrong on your last test and all you’ve managed is one corrected answer and a whole lot of mind-wandering to the boy who currently stares at you like you’re across from him in a faceoff. His brows are flat, eyes sharp, mouth drawn in a firm line.

“You’re not,” you insist vehemently. Maybe Emerie will stay if you refuse to give your attention to Rhys. Your warning glare does nothing to deter him. He doesn’t falter. His shoulders don’t wither under your harsh look. He stands tall, straightens his shoulders even, and stands his ground.

Rhys’ lips quirk when your tutor stands. Your attention is diverted to Emerie as she slides her backpack over her shoulder. “Emerie, please—”

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head solemnly. Rhys’ triumphant smirk quickly disappears when you whirl his way. You’re about to give him a verbal lashing when Emerie slows by his side. She holds her hand out and your jaw continues its descent toward the floor as Rhys proceeds to tug out his wallet and hand her a wad of folded bills.

His trickery slides down your spine like an ice cube down your shirt. What the actual fuck? He paid Emerie to get you here, all because you’ve been avoiding him? A part of you is flattered, but the feeling is smothered by his cunning. You knew Rhys was sly in the rink, but you didn’t know that extended into his daily life. Not like this.

“Thanks, Rhys.” Emerie shoots you a ‘what can you do?’ look and shoves her way from the room. Your shoulders fall in defeat, your mind reeling. Has she ever even taken a psychology class? You want to slam your head into the open book on the table. Surely, that will be more help than the hour you just wasted as an unknowing pawn in Rhysand’s little game.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Rhys starts, and flames course through your veins. You can feel the path they inch to your cheeks, anger flushing your skin bright red. How dare he? How dare he pay someone to pretend to tutor you so he can ambush you?

Good, then I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. You give yourself a mental pat on the back. You’ve made it nearly an entire week without reaching out to Rhys no matter how many times you typed out responses went unsent or fell asleep to your text threads. Small wins.

“And you’ve just ruined my night,” you snip back, slamming your book shut. The test you’d been working through is trapped between the pages, squashed in half, but you’re too annoyed to care. An off-center crease on your paper will be something to distract you from studying later. “I can’t believe you faked me out like that! Is she even in psych?”

Rhys winces and that’s all you need to know. Frustration presses hot behind your eyes, prickling your sinuses as it tries to escape. You could explode on him right now, but you bite your tongue. He doesn’t deserve your words or your tears.

“Not technically, no,” he answers sheepishly, but you’re much too angry to think about how cute Rhys is when his face scrunches in concern like that. You avert your eyes and chuck your book into your bag. “Was she any help?”

Of course she wasn’t any help. Although, that means the single question you reworked and corrected is either another small win or you need to double-check your work.

You don’t deign Rhys with a response.

“Look,” he says when you exchange your pencils in the front pocket of your bag for your headphones. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to show up this late but watching film ran late, and I swear I was going to help you study, darling, after I had the chance to talk to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” you reply stubbornly. You can’t even look at him right now.

“We do,” he argues. He rounds the table and plants a hand on the back of your chair, keeping you from sliding back to make your escape.

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You can’t turn to peer over your shoulder because you know it will bring you face-to-face, maybe even so close your lips might brush. You fight the shiver that crawls up your spine at the thought, the warmth that pools between your legs.

“Please, Rhys,” you sigh. Your gaze is drawn to his broad body like a magnet as he lowers himself into the freshly unoccupied chair. Staring at you with those determined, violet eyes tugs at the wound in your chest you’ve been trying to plaster shut all week. “Can we be adults about this?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, kicking his chair back on its hind legs. “You start.”

You pin him with an unimpressed look.

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes. “You can’t tell me that kiss didn’t mean anything to you.”

“It didn’t,” you respond all too quickly. The fact that your eyes have fallen to the table again doesn’t help your façade.

In truth, the kiss meant more than it should have. You haven’t felt that sudden rush in a long time. You were left buzzing afterward in more ways than one, could still feel the shape of Rhys’ lips against yours all the way back to your dorm that night, could still see that hungry look in his eyes. Even the sight of Gwyn retching into the toilet afterward didn’t chase that image away.

“Liar,” he argues.

“It can’t mean anything, Rhys!” You bite. You cross your arms tightly over your chest and stare at the table, swallowing tightly.

The silence that falls is heavy. His stare is heavy. Everything is fucking heavy.

Suddenly, you’re exhausted. All you want to do is slink your way home and curl up beneath your blankets and avoid everyone for a little bit longer. You hadn’t expected Rhysand to drop in on your tutoring session, nor set up your tutoring session for you. It’s late, and your test is in two days, and you don’t feel any more confident in the material than you should.

You don’t want to fail another exam. You need his help.

After a beat of silence, Rhys asks softly, “Why?”

“Because Mor is my friend,” you repeat for the umpteenth time. You force your gaze to Rhys and your chest aches at the concern on his face. He’s normally so rugged and cocky, winking and smirking, to see him like this needle’s holes in your chest. “And I won’t ruin our friendship over a guy.”

“I can handle Mor,” Rhys says like all of this is so easy. Maybe for him, it is. He’s her family, and she can’t stay made at him forever. You on the other hand, have no such ties. If she found out that you went behind her back to be with Rhys…you don’t know how you’d recover from that. You know Mor, and you know that while she’s confident on the outside, your betrayal would scar her deep inside. “Just give me a chance.”

“It’s not that simple, Rhys,” you respond with a sigh. You wish it were. You wish you could slide from your chair onto his, straddle him and hold him close, let him console you with pretty words and soft kisses until you’ve relaxed enough to keep studying.

You’d love to see him outside of school, outside of hockey, where you can have all of his attention, but there are too many factors that play into being more than friends with Rhys. You need to pass this class, and he has so much on his plate you don’t even know how he has the time to sleep, let alone date.

“It could be.”

You shake your head. You would give him the chance, but you don’t know how. Your fears rear their heads and bare their teeth. The loss of a relationship with one of your best friends in the entire world.

You couldn’t do that to Mor.

Rhys must see your inner turmoil. He plants his chair back on the ground and places a gentle hand over yours to stop you from wringing them together anxiously. Oh. You didn’t even know you were doing that.

Emotion pricks your sinuses as the warmth from his hands spreads throughout your body. He strokes a thumb across the back of your hand, and your bones ache with the need to flip your hand and intertwine your fingers with his. But you can’t. You can’t do any of it.

His eyes are soft when you’re able to look at him.

“It won’t happen again, I swear,” he promises, though there’s a sad twist to his mouth that tells you he doesn’t quite believe it’s possible. He’s telling you right now that he wants more, but he’ll give you the time that you need, as long as you need it.

You don’t tell him that this is going to last a lifetime.

“We can…we can be friends,” Rhys says like he doesn’t like what he’s agreeing to. You don’t like it very much, either. “Just…don’t replace me as your tutor.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

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[hoiststowline]

Would you be able to do crush/relationship headcanons for Perceptor? I just need some more of my nerdy guy 👉🏻👈🏻

_perceptor x reader hc’s 

[a/n: sure! honestly, me too. I had sm fun writing these!! <3!!]

you’d be blissfully unaware for a long while in reference to the fact that perceptor harbors romantic feelings for you, especially with how he behaves after such a realization consumes him. not even in a vague sense, because he isn’t sharing that information, confident that he can not only keep this suppressed, but keep up appearances as normal. perceptor is unable to part with the sentiment so willingly, not when he’s already mapped out about nine different scenarios that all end with you saying no. in his mind, it’s particulars that are best to keep to himself, waiting for a better suited time then trying to shove it from his processor. even if it arises effortlessly, without doubt, every time you’re in the same room as him. perceptor carries on being friendly and congenial with you, never directing personal frustrations your way. it’s like nothing ever occurred to him, but his outward demeanor does not match the rampaging thoughts that are circling his processor on a daily basis. 

it’s become a standoff, whether you bring your feelings forward first or perceptor loses the ability to keep his stifled. and on those placing bets, it’s more than likely the former, as perceptor is pretty sure he could carry such a secret far longer. he’s found himself cowardly in that sense, afraid to break something that doesn’t need to be remedied. it’s perfect the way it is, your current friendship, and while he would be immensely elated to see it escalate to a romantic status, he’s convinced himself otherwise. the copious amounts of ‘advice’ and relentless nudging wasn’t entirely helping his case either, feeling like every time he caught your attention, someone else caught that he was after it in the first place. 

upon entering a romantic relationship, it’s effortless to tell that the things he was already doing for you were silent displays of affection. quality time or acts of service I can see being his love languages, but heavy on acts of service. anything that perceptor can assist you with, it’s an immediate response, no questions asked. he’s also the type of mech to do it without being prompted, but if you approach him with a difficult problem he’s more than happy to offer advice if that’s what you’re seeking on the subject. speaking of, he’s also a very good listener as well, hearing you out from beginning to end before proposing suggestions or pointers. you can actively see him thinking it through, wanting to extend the best possible counsel, hopeful to lead you in the best direction. on the other hand, perceptor finds himself approaching you for opinions and direction as well, pleased to have your undivided attention and suggestions for a resolution.

affection is for behind closed doors and there only. it’s private, and while perceptor is overjoyed to oblige you in the solitude of his quarters, there are small gestures that happen outside of them. well-deserved wins or favorable outcomes merit celebration. perceptor finds that high-fives regarding achievements make you laugh. laughter of delight, soft and meaningful as if you can’t quite find the right words to say at the given moment. neither could he, as to why he proffered his servo to you, knowing that you would wordlessly understand the implication. on several occasions, he’s willing to let you sit on his lap while he’s working, so long as it’s not dangerous. if there’s a chance for you to get hurt, it’s an instant no, but in the early stages of tests and assessments you are more than welcome to join him. perceptor sometimes waits for you to ask, other times, an impatience arises and he’d rather just have you right where he can see you. whilst sitting on his lap, he definitely hunches a bit so he can mumble each step of what he’s doing, voice just above a whisper.

[gvshing]

𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣!𝕍𝕚

(Co star! Vi more specifically)

m.list 3.7k words

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

ꨄ︎ You were cast to be in a highly anticipated romance/drama movie next to Vi. You had been having a dry spell with getting cast so when you found out you got the part you were elated. Jumping up and down and squealing into the phone, squeals stabbing your manager in his ear. Your manager pulled the phone away while you loudly celebrated. “You’re going to be working beside Violet.” You stopped screaming almost instantaneously. “What? No. She’s too good. I’ll look bad next to her. Tell them never mind, they can give it to Kiramman;” You fall back on the couch and splay out exhaustively. “She's a way better actress than me and will do the part justice anyways. It would make more sense for them two to be in a movie like that together. Ugh, I’m sorry. I wasted everybodies ti-” A loud sigh cuts you off. “You’ll do great. Don’t beat yourself up. They wouldn’t have hired you if they didn’t like what you had to offer. Besides, I don’t think she auditioned. You did. You got this role with your talent. You’re deserving.” Blowing hair off your face, you nod as if it could’ve been seen. “You’re right.”

ꨄ︎ Table readings were set for the next week. You were buzzing with anticipation. What if you didn’t do good? What if you and Violet have bad chemistry and you aren’t able to give the same performance as your audition? You can’t handle disappointing anybody. Arriving at the table reading made the anxiety heighten. Being in the large gray building made everything feel too real. You sat around the round dark table. You were early, maybe too early. You were supposed to have been there at 10, it was 9:30. In your worry of being late, you end up one of the first people. Other than the casting director setting up the scripts and other miscellaneous things, it was just you. You pulled your phone out, nervously scrolling through various social media. The door swings open, stealing your attention. You switch your screen off, gazing up at the new person. Trailing up the figure, past the black jeans that clung desperately to her legs and past the loose red shirt hanging, you meet Violet in the eyes. You had never met her; just seen her in a lot of films. Your palms become sweaty and your breath is catching in your throat. You blink away the nerves and stand up to introduce yourself. Stopping short when you see her look your way. Her lips quirk into a half smile, eyes darting up and down your figure. She extends a hand and walks towards you. “I'm Vi. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You discreetly rub your sweaty palm against your jeans and shakily grasp hers. Hastily, you end the handshake as quickly as it begins. ”Yeah, you too… I love your movies, I'm excited to work with you.” Vi smiles softly. You move to sit back down and Vi’s voice stops you momentarily. “Can I sit next to you?” She questions. Your eyes widen and you hesitantly nod. “Of course.”

ꨄ︎ The first table reading goes better than you imagined. You stutter a few times but you eventually find your rhythm. Letting the art of acting take you away and pushing your nerves to the back of your head. Vi does amazing as you assumed she would. A few times you’d be reading off the script, not quite knowing your lines as it’s your first time reading through the whole script. You got it when you initially were hired but you weren’t sure you were going to keep your job if you fumbled the table reading. You didn’t want to get committed to something that was still potentially up in the air. Weirdly enough, Vi’s presence eventually became comforting compared to the anxiety you had when you first realized you’d be working alongside each other. Everytime you stumbled over your words, she’d smile softly at you and send you an encouraging thumbs up, or grinning at you in the most comical and yet endearing way she could muster, so wide her eyes were practically shut. The table reading was supposed to last 4 hours but everybody was getting caught up in different ways to do the scenes and conversation. Everybody seemed to have fun and you couldn’t have asked for a better first table reading. It ended up lasting 6 hours; you walk out the double doors at 4:30. You left the building with a sense of pride in your chest, a sense of newfound confidence. You were excited to be in this movie with all the wonderful casting and excited to work with one of the most notable actors in this day and age thus far. On the way to your car, your ears finally tune into a noise coming from behind you. “Hey! Wait! Ugh-” A loud thump followed by a groan sounds from the person. Frantically turning–panic filling your chest–you see a groaning Vi collapsed on the ground. You gasp and set your belongings down before rushing to her. “Are you okay?” A choked laugh exits your throat. Vi hoists herself up on her hands and knees, eyes flicking up to meet yours for just a second. “I’m okay. That’s so embarrassing.” She begins to stand up, your hand outstretched to offer help. She hesitates, gazing up at your hand and hunched body towering over her. She sighs and slaps her hand into yours before pulling herself up. “Sorry… I was just wanting to swap information. I figured if we’re going to be working together we should be able to contact the other. And then I fell.” You cough, covering your inappropriate laugh from escaping. “Yes, we should do that.” You start walking back over to your car where the abandoned bag lies in a mountain of fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not bleeding?” Vi seems to not have considered the possibility of her getting hurt and starts inspecting the places she could’ve scraped. You snort at her lack of concern for her wellbeing. Rummaging through your bag you pull out a piece of paper, pen and car keys. “I’m unscathed.” She says matter of factly as you pull out the trove of necessities. You scribble down your number and hold it out to Vi. “Be careful. Here you go.” Taking it from you, she stares at the slip of paper, slightly crumpled in her hand. Tossing your bag into the now unlocked vehicle, a final goodbye is given and you’re out.

ꨄ︎ With the table reading going as well as it did, the director was more than ready to get rehearsing moved to the set. As excited as you were to be a part of the production, you were still nervous. Nervous that something would go wrong, nervous that the filming wouldn’t go as good as the rehearsing did. You tried not to think too hard about it, but it was hard when you were spending a majority of your time in that dingy dark set. A lot of the scenes were taking place in a musky apartment. Vi was a great scene partner, she definitely made it easier to do the scenes but, even she could notice the nerves radiating from your body. Having a hard time remembering your lines or markers on the ground, not talking loud enough to then talking too loud, missing cues, you were a mess. She would pull you to the side during one of the 5 minute breaks and interrogate you. Her hand grasping onto your upper arm, holding you in place from running off. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little… I’m not sure. Off, I guess?” You sighed and stared just past her at the fake brick wall. “Yeah, no. I’m good. Just tired.” Vi leaned over to be in your eyesight and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve said that every day. Look, I enjoy doing this job to you. I do. But, you’ve gotta put your all into it. If I'm noticing you’re off, so will the viewers. I’m here if you need to talk.” You nod, casting your eyes down and away from her pale blue eyes piercing through you. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m nervous that I’m going to drag you and everybody else down. You all are such amazing actors and I don’t want to dis-” She shakes her head quickly, cutting you off. “You’re going to do great! Don’t worry about anyone else.” You nod solemnly, giving her a small smile of appreciation. After the break, you’re standing back in that dark apartment setting. Patiently waiting to hear that daunting ‘Action!’ signalling for you to begin. Vi stands just outside of the door to the apartment, waiting to storm into the room. Her words rattled around your head. Taking a deep breath and steadying yourself, the director yells out the magic word, and you throw yourself into the character.

ꨄ︎ After a good take, Vi comes leaping over to your figure. “You did great, doll!” A coy smile spreads across your features. Her hand goes up, and you join hers in a high five that echoes against the walls. “Thank you, I was thinking about what you were saying. Figured If I didn’t want to let anybody down, I should not let myself down first.” Vi slaps a hand against your back, “Atta-girl!” she boasts.

ꨄ︎ Filming goes better than you could’ve imagined after that. With Vi by your side you feel confident. Ready to tackle any one of these scenes that were written in the script. Your stomach no longer churned on the way to set everyday. You no longer overthink the day while getting makeup smeared all over. Your heart no longer beats against your chest every second of the work day.

ꨄ︎ Vi would send encouraging texts in the morning before work began and texts applauding the hard work you did at the end of the day. “You’re gonna rock the day!” “You did great today!” “Good luck on that scene today! It’s gonna be hard but I know you’ve got this.” “You were amazing! Is it weird to say you do a great job at crying on command? Well you do.” “Excited to work with you again today!” “You looked pretty in that dress today.”

ꨄ︎ You stop by the cafe that’s on the way to set every morning and become the ‘coffee grabber’. You balance two drink holders filled with different coffees and one tea the few blocks it takes to get there. Vi isn’t much of a coffee drinker so you opt to grab her a tea with lots of honey in it instead. It’s got to be 50% honey with how much she asks for. Eventually more coffee is added to the order as people grow more comfortable with everybody on set and decide they DO in fact want something. At that point two more drink holders are needed and you have to either bring a cart with you to tote them to set or make two trips. Not having the time to make two trips or wanting to wheel that rickety cart all the way to set and back, you beg for Vi’s help. Vi agrees to start coming with you to help after you promise to get her a muffin every time she comes to help. You could’ve asked anybody else but you didn’t want to bother anybody with it and honestly, you enjoyed spending the extra time with her. She also would’ve done it without the begging or promise of the sweet, but she found it amusing to see you pout for her help of all peoples. Oftentimes, you two are walking onto set cackling at whatever stupid joke one of you made, or wacky thing you saw somebody do on the way in. The rest of the cast could tell when you both arrived 2 minutes before you actually walked into the door because of how loud your chuckles echoed against the narrow hallway leading into the makeup area.

ꨄ︎ When articles about being seen ‘getting close’ start circulating after your early morning cafe runs, you send a link to Vi captioning it, “can you believe this 😭”. Vi was used to invasive articles being written about her, but this was one of the firsts written about what you do in your private life and not anything to do with whatever project you’re working on. “Sadly I can.” is all she replied to it. Vi didn’t really ever give those articles the time of day, but this one made her chest flutter. You guys were getting closer, that wasn’t a lie. And deep down she knew she felt more than just a friendly way towards you. She enjoyed working with you more than she did with anyone in the past. It was easy to work together, the chemistry you both had on camera and off was undeniable. Not much thought was put into it on her side though. She knew that once filming was wrapped you would either be friends still or you wouldn’t. And she’d deal with whatever she’s feeling then. But right now the job was her main priority.

ꨄ︎ You weren’t oblivious to the way her gaze lingered on your lips after a tense scene was finished. In fact, you were hyper aware of it. Typically when you filmed a scene like this, your co-star would say ‘good job!’ and then be off doing their own thing. But not Vi. She would stay glued to her spot, eyes tracing over your features. You flash her a wide smile and jaunt over to her. “You good?” Vi shakes her head, seemingly snapping back to reality. Her eyes meet yours and a spark flashes through them. The corners of her lips quirked up. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Her thoughts racing, had you noticed her staring? Had you noticed that the lines between her and her character were starting to blur? You hold out your arm, signalling for her to link arms with you. You gesture to the snack bar, in hopes she’ll accompany you. Following your lead she links her arm around yours.

ꨄ︎ More and more dating allegations start popping up. “Seen getting up close and personal at the bar??” “Candlelit dinner??” and other ridiculous clickbait articles litter your google homepage. A bubbling begins in your chest when any are brought up. Your heart starts beating throughout your whole body, practically vibrating with an unidentified emotion. Vi and you share glances, laughing it off, an unspoken agreement to not acknowledge it is shared between you.

ꨄ︎ Vi’s feeling disappointed as filming comes to an end–not that she’d admit that, out loud or otherwise. She’s come to enjoy her work days. She’s been on some shitty sets before. Worked with casts that she despised, sets that were falling apart, and directors with a stick up their ass. Working on this new movie isn’t perfect. It’s pretty fucking close to it in her eyes though.

ꨄ︎ As wrap day approaches, Vi goes out of her way to be next to as much as she can. When neither of you are actively filming anything, you can bet your ass she’s lounging around you or pressed directly against your side. You notice. She’s not being as slick as she thinks. You test it after the third time of her almost walking into the bathroom with you. She stands next to you, leaning against the wall scrolling on her phone. Her figure seems so large pressed up against the wall, legs haphazardly thrown over each other; It looked like she could be swept on her ass if you kicked her leg with the slightest tap. She looked otherworldly with the slight glare of the studio lights, the shadows highlighting her. Her beauty truly was contradictory. Getting up from the makeup table, you stride across the room over to the snack table. Just like you expected Vi stands up and quickly follows behind. You don’t say anything, just continuing scanning the snack options. Eyes mulling over various types of granola bars and bagels. You shrug as if you can’t decide and start to walk back to your original seat. Vi immediately mimics your movements. She takes a seat next to you, right where she had been. You smile at her softly, cutting off the giggles in your throat before they can fall out. She looks up at you, eyes squinting in confusion. “What?” Her eyes dart to the floor and back to you. A small laugh emits from your chest, head shaking back and forth. “Nothing. Nothing, I promise.” She side-eyes you before going back to her phone.

ꨄ︎ Closer and closer to the final filming every day. Vi started pulling small ‘jokes’ around the set. Certainly distracting herself from the project being over. Tapping on shoulders and then moving to the other one, popping out of corners yelling ‘Boo!’, kick me signs on people's backs and other small pranks. Sometimes though, they would make zero sense. Making you a cup of tea and then putting splenda instead of normal sugar. It didn’t matter either way, it sweetened the tea that’s all you wanted. She found it hilarious, dying at her own joke. Gasping for air and grasping her sides in pain.

ꨄ︎ A month after the movie is finished and Vi still texts you encouraging words. “Good luck on your day.” “How did that audition go the other day? Good I assume.” “Have a good day, or else.” sometimes they’re slightly threatening, though you’re not sure if she’s meaning to come off threatening. It was sweet. You both text almost every single day. It was a little unexpected. You didn’t usually get this close with other coworkers. And as far as you know, neither did she. Hanging out at least once a week was detrimental to her. “Friday? I’m free.” “Saturday? I’m also free that day. Say a day and I’ll make time.”

ꨄ︎ Interviews about your guys’ new movie were… chaotic, to say in one word. It was really Vi and you laughing together and slapping each other's shoulders in excitement while somebody asks you questions every now and again. At times you felt bad that you couldn’t give them the attention you promised, answer the questions without going on a 2 minute tangent with Vi. But as the interviewers cackled alongside the two of you, as the PR and marketing managers were raving about the success of the interviews a sensation of accomplishment trades its place.

ꨄ︎ At the premiere, you had seats directly next to each other, you arrived together, and all the pictures of one of you had the other in it. There was no escaping it.

ꨄ︎ Neither of you chose to confirm or deny any dating rumors. Whether they were true or not, it's none of anyone's business. Though they were true, sometimes the articles were so ridiculous. The fat heads all of those ‘journalists’ would get if you confirmed to be dating would drive anyone insane.

ꨄ︎ When trying to be mysterious about your feelings for Vi you didn’t do a great job. Falling into a sour mood anytime she mentioned another girl, replying instantaneously to her messages when both you and her knew it was hard to get hold of you via texts most of the time, or when you’d stare at her plump lips while she rambled about something or other. Imagining you were tracing the scar that inhabits the height of her slightly chapped lips. You were zoned out, too busy thinking about what it would taste like to kiss her. She knew you were zoned out, she realized a long time ago. The heat filling her chest and butterflies fluttering in her stomach had her continue rambling. If she stopped talking, you stopped looking at her like that. Like Vi painted the sky and placed the ground you walked atop.

ꨄ︎ First dates were hard. For everyone. But especially Vi. She wasn’t sure what she even enjoyed doing half the time. She went to work, she went to the gym and came home. She didn’t have the time for hobbies, not anymore at least. So where the fuck does she take you? She googles it over and over trying to think of something. She could ask somebody for advice but she wanted to do it on her own. If she can’t even plan dates how the fuck could she be a partner in life? She refused to ask anyone for help on this one.

ꨄ︎ She ends up doing the basic idea she was trying to avoid. Anybody could do the typical dinner and a movie date. That’s like THE date. She’s not overly cocky about this idea, but she knows that she’ll get better at planning dates. Sitting down at a restaurant that has maybe 2 other customers in the building, a random american diner in the corner of a strip mall, she stutters out an awkward compliment. “You look… You look pretty.” an endearing smile grows on your face. The rest of dinner flies by and before you know it, the movie is beginning. Vi’s arm wraps around you and tugs you into the side of her. Her strong physique had just the right amount of softness and sturdiness for you to fall asleep halfway through the movie. You awoke as the credits were finishing rolling and the lights had been flashed on ages ago. Vi shakes your sleepy body ever so softly. “Psst. Wake up, the movie’s over,” Vi whispers into your ear and tucks loose strands of hair behind the same ear she had been cooing in. “Come on. I’ve got you.” She helps you sit up. Her eyes relax and she gazes at you as a yawn leaves your body. She watches you stretch up and catches the smallest sight of your midriff when your shirt raises with your arms. She feels herself getting dizzy and hot– looking away as the blush starts appearing dusting over her face and tips of her ears.

ꨄ︎ Vi’s thankful for the opportunity to work on that film, she becomes more grateful when she realizes it brought you together. The set of that grimy movie will forever hold a special place in her heart. Though she’d never say that part out loud.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading ;-; I was having a weirdly hard time finishing this, I'm sorry if it comes off as rushed :,)

[xmalereader]

— Peaky Blinders —

《 BloodHound Series 》

• Thomas Shelby x male reader

Request: pls pls pls can we get a tommy shelby and male reader fic?? hes like a huge comfort character for me and ive been having like some super bad depression recently. it would mean so much to have a comforting tommy fic to read or smth, but pls dont stress if you cant do it ;; i rlly look forward to hearing your response !

• Thomas Shelby x Male reader

Requested: I mean Dom tommy x sub Male reader, tommy was the one who looked after yn as he grew up, took care of him whilst your parents were doing their thing, tommy got to see you grow into such a beautiful boi, little did he know you were crushing over him too, it was years later, on your 18th tommy decided to tell you everything not expecting you to feel the same and basically, hot steamy car sex enrolls!

• Thomas Shelby x Male reader

Summary: Reader is Thomas Shelby’s son who is hidden from the world, so what happens if one night he is able to be himself? What happens if he’s caught? - || TWO ||

• Alfie Solomons x Male reader

Requested: Hey hun, hope I'm sending this the right place, if not then excuse me, I'm new to this ahaha. I wanted to request something with Alfie. I was thinking something about Alfie and the reader being together and the workers starts harassing the reader and Alfie is not having any of it and just to whatever else you please. If it's shit then feel free to deny it. Love your page and stories

• Thomas Shelby X FTM! Reader

Requested; hey! hope you're well!! could i request a Tommy x m reader where r is ftm and is feeling Not Good Enough™ and Mr T Fooken Shelby makes him feel better? I'm aware that's vague as fuck and i am so sorry! :)

• Thomas Shelby x Male reader

Requested: Heya, can i request a thomas shelby one where the reader is new to the gang and Thomas starts getting feelings for him but tries to suppress it until they have to go on a dangerous mission and the reader gets hurt? Love your writings and hope you have a great day

• Thomas Shelby x Male reader

Summary: Reader is alone and can’t say goodbye

• Thomas Shelby x Male reader

Requested: So can I request Thomas Shelby × male!reader, where Y/N just moved to Birmingham, and still doesn't know anyone, but walking home at night, he finds Tommy after the events at the end of the first episode of the second season, and takes him home to treat him, since he is a doctor. And after he treats Thomas, it turns out that they have known each other since the days of France, where Y/N was a field orderly. At that time they were in love, but they were scattered around the world, and no one is exactly who is from where.

• Thomas shelby x Son! Reader

Requested: Hi, I saw your requests open and I love your writing! Could I please request a Thomas Shelby x Son!reader where the son takes a bullet for Tommy and comes very close to dying, like he goes into a coma and Thomson's devastated and sure that the reader will die. The reader wakes up.after like 2 weeks and its all angst until its happy ending?

• Thomas shelby x Male reader

Requested: Hey, I could have a Tommy Shelby where he and her husband adopt a baby and when they're gone, John and Arthur will have to take care of him (even though they know it's a bad idea) and they both start cursing in front of the baby and his first word is "fuck". Both are desperate to keep him from saying the word again and when Tommy and her husband arrive, the first thing they hear is a "fuck" from their little angel?

• Thomas shelby x Male reader x Theseus Scamander

Summary: Reader is Thomas Shelby’s son who has nothing to do with his fathers business, he keeps to himself and shys away from society. Thomas knew that his son is a closed off man until he finds hidden love letters that were being sent to his son and plans to get to the bottom of it.

• Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male reader

Summary: Reader is a doctor who works with the Shelby family and befriends Thomas Shelby, oh and he’s also a vampire. - #1 short story of the vampire series

• Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male reader

Summary: Just some more facts about little baby vamp and Thomas . - #2 short story of the vampire series

• Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male reader

Summary: A crossover between the Shelby family and the Cullens. . - #3 short story of the vampire series

• Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male reader

Summary: Reader attends one of Thomas parties due to him being forced, the doctor not wanting to be there tries to leave the party until he meets an old family name, a name that he always feared. Oswald Mosley. . - #4 short story of the vampire series

• Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male reader

Summary: Reader is woken up at an early time to check up on Thomas Shelby, who is too stubborn to pay attention to his own health. . - #5 short story of the vampire series

• Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male reader

Summary: Finale

—

Incorrect Quotes:

Leave me alone!

Unfortunate

Yeah no shit—

New Signature

I’ll kill you

Honeymoon

I love you

[wings-of-ink]

Checking in - Author Updates - Quick Poll

Hello all! I hope you are all doing well!

I wanted to check-in. I don't have a ton to say on development, just wanted to keep you in the loop on where I am at personally since it tends to affect production speed. I also have a question for you at the bottom.

As I've posted about before, this year has brought about some challenges for me. There aren't a ton of good developments on that front, and my job is being...difficult. The (technical) good news is that I am still employed, but some days I wish I weren't. (I'd much rather be writing IFs, lol.) There is still uncertainty about the future of my job because it is at the mercy of the whims of my government. But what is more pressing currently is that my employer has opted to treat its employees worse (let me tell you, this is a feat because they've never really treated us well), by making our lives and jobs harder. I've made some "worst-case scenario" plans to prepare, so I'm just getting by one day at a time. Oh...and I also have needed to work overtime again, so that's another time suck there. Ugh. In May, I'm taking a couple days of off for me to rest.

In more recent news, I am doing physical therapy...yippy! In recent months I have struggled with my right shoulder. I assumed it was one of those "you're in your late 30s" pains, and I just dealt with it. Don't do that, by the way. I have a very bad habit of just doing with little regard for pain and discomfort. But, it got difficult to hug without pain, and nothing messes with my huggin'. We really don't know what is wrong with my shoulder/arm, but I'm doing virtual (oooh shiny) PT (not the Silent Hill variety) to hopefully correct the issue. If I don't see results, I will need expensive tests and scans. No worries currently, though, I don't think this will slow me down much at all. I can still write and I don't experience any discomfort when I do.

I'm also still working on a coding class, which is self-paced, but I'm sticking to a lesson schedule to make sure I get it done. I would really love to be able to make improvements of my own to GC or even make my own Twine Template someday.

So, in more fun development news, Chapter 6 is growing steadily. And so is Chapter 5, technically. If you missed it, check out this Tumblr ask where I talk a bit about that. The ask and answer contain some slight spoilers for Ch 5 & 6, but nothing too specific.

Chapter 5 is up by a bit over 1500 words, if you're curious, and Chapter 6 is up to over 69k words. I am wrapping up a big moment for Zahn, which might be a bit heavy. After that, there's a more fun moment, which will present a few coding challenges for me, but I'm looking forward to it. *rubs hands together like housefly*

Finally, I have a question for subscribers or those who may want to sub in the future. I find myself wondering what else to post about at times. Especially when I have inordinately busy weeks, I just can't think of things that you may want to see other than peeks at the chapter. I sincerely wish I had more time to add more projects. I have so many ideas kicking around in my head...

So, I was wondering if you were interested in seeing things other than God-Cursed that I have worked on. These would be things that may or may not become much of anything later, so I wasn't sure if there would be much pull to see them (or if it would just be a cruel tease, lol). I have an incomplete IF that I did to help me learn Twine a couple of years ago. I used it to just get acquainted because I am very much a hands-on learner. It's a humorous and simple story (loosely) based on an actual time in my personal life. I have debated about finishing it. I have a couple of others as well where I was playing with a story idea to see how it felt. I also have a complete romance novel which I am slowly editing for publication.

Patreon, Ko-fi links if you want them.

So that's all for me. If anything big happens, I will let you know! ^_^

Take care, everyone!

~Lunan

[noorpersona]

hello lovely!! I hope ur doing well! I’ve been to gobbling up all your writing recently and I just wanted to say that you’re so talented! Your ability to accurately characterize, well, the characters is so important and it’s just overall fantastic. Please keep up the good work!! <33

I wanted to request Sugawara — possibly taking care of the reader when they’re sick? Or maybe period pains? Either works, I really don’t mind! There’s not a lot of Suga writing on tumblr as a whole (that I’ve been able to find), and I’d like to see you work your magic! Thank youuu!

Hi sweet anon!! 🥹💛 Thank you so much for your kind words — They genuinely mean the world to me. I’m so happy you’re enjoying the writing!! Hopefully this is want you pictured in your head hehe

Enjoy<333

--

Anon Asks: Sugawara

The door creaked open before you could even lift your head from the couch.

"Hey, you should be resting," came Sugawara’s voice—soft, teasing, but edged with concern. The sound of it washed over you like a balm, even as your body rebelled against every small movement.

You grunted in response, curling deeper into the fortress of blankets you'd made for yourself. Every inch of your body ached with a dull, persistent throb. Your head pounded in time with your heartbeat, and your stomach twisted and cramped unpleasantly, making you feel heavy and brittle all at once.

Koushi set the grocery bag down with a soft thud, the rustling of plastic filling the room as he moved around. You cracked one eye open to find him methodically unpacking supplies: herbal teas, a box of your favorite crackers, a heating pad, a fresh bottle of painkillers, and—to your complete and utter dismay—a small bouquet of daisies.

“You didn’t have to,” you croaked, voice hoarse.

He shot you a look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched in a way that immediately made you feel silly for even suggesting it. “You’re right,” he said lightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

You huffed, burrowing deeper into the blanket, trying—and failing—to hide the way your face flushed. Whether it was from embarrassment or overwhelming gratitude, you weren’t sure.

Sugawara padded over, kneeling down so you were eye-level. His hand, warm and slightly calloused from years of volleyball, brushed against your forehead. Gentle, steady.

“Still warm,” he murmured, his brows knitting together in a tiny frown. “Poor thing.”

You cracked a weak smile, the motion tugging at the ache in your temples. “I’m fine, really,” you mumbled.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, clearly not believing a word of it.

Without asking, he cracked open one of the heat packs, giving it a firm shake until it warmed to life. He slipped it under the blanket, pressing it against your lower abdomen with slow, careful movements. A soft, involuntary sigh slipped past your lips as the warmth seeped into your cramping muscles.

He smiled at that, eyes crinkling in that boyish, heart-melting way he had.

“There’s my girl,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it over the gentle thrum of the rain starting outside.

Sugawara busied himself preparing tea—the comforting clatter of the kettle, the soft clink of a spoon stirring honey into a mug—all while stealing glances at you every few moments. Watching. Making sure you didn’t strain yourself.

When he returned, he slid onto the couch beside you, coaxing you upright just enough to press the steaming mug into your hands.

“Easy,” he murmured, one hand steadying the cup with you. “Small sips.”

You obeyed, too tired to argue, the warmth from the tea and his touch making the ache behind your eyes begin to loosen.

Once the tea was safely set aside on the coffee table, he didn’t retreat back to his corner. Instead, he carefully pulled you into his arms, arranging you across his lap with an ease that made your heart ache. His hands found your lower back almost immediately, working slow, tender circles into the tense muscles there.

The world outside faded. The rain against the windows softened into a background hum. Your muscles remained sore, but the sharp edges of your pain dulled—replaced by the steady, grounding beat of Koushi’s heart against your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing, the feeling of being wrapped up in something—someone—solid and sure.

Your hands tightened weakly in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, voice cracking from the weight of everything you were too tired to say properly.

He only squeezed you tighter, thumb stroking lazy, soothing patterns across your hip.

“Always,” he murmured.

And as your eyes fluttered closed, your body giving in to the exhaustion at last, you realized: with Koushi here, you could finally let yourself rest.

Truly, completely, safely rest.

[mageknife]

through your eyes, everything is brighter

(or; the arum hawke possession arc)

chapter 1: i think it's my first sunrise

arum hawke/anders

rating: T

word count: 5211

ao3 link

"There are benevolent spirits that guide spirit healers, and they're often chomping at the bit to help. Spirits of Compassion, especially, but Justice, Faith, Hope… They all have their reasons for lending a hand. If you ask for aid, they'll happily come along to give it."

"And you just… ask?"

(Arum Hawke learns spirit healing. Ten years later, he gets possessed.)

“Where did you learn spirit healing?”

Anders looked up from the bundles of herbs he was sorting. “Hm?”

“Is it taught at the Circles? I would think that the Templars wouldn’t approve.” Arum situated himself on the other side of the table, picking up a small white flower with a long stem and twirling it between his fingers.

“Feverfew,” Anders said. “It’s used to relieve headaches. Separate the leaves and flowers from the stems, and I’ll dry them in a moment. …Ah, I learned it at the Circle, yes. The Templars were never fond of the discipline, but skilled healers are necessary on the battlefield, so there wasn’t much they could do about it.”

Arum began preparing the feverfew as delicately as his unpracticed hands were able. “Is there a reason you chose spirit healing in particular? Just sticking it to the Templars?”

Anders laughed. “That might’ve been my reasoning at the time. I’m not really sure. Mostly, I was just a natural talent at it. But I did have a habit of being a thorn in their side. Speaking of, be careful with the thistle when you get to it—it’s very pokey.”

“And then you kept with it, because of Justice?”

“In part. It’s… Every time I ran from the Circle, I was only thinking of myself. Justice helped me see that I should fight for all mages to have the same freedom I grasped alone. And now, with all the refugees here in Kirkwall…” He sighed, gesturing at the clinic’s occupied cots with the sprig of mint in his hand. “Someone has to help. And I can. So I will. Until they don’t need me anymore.”

“People will always find a way to get sick or injured, especially here. I hope you’re not waiting restlessly for the day you’re no longer needed. You might be waiting a while.” The last of the feverfew stems were tossed into the compost, and Arum slid his neat piles over to Anders. “Here.”

“Thank you, Hawke.” Anders swept the leaves and blossoms toward his side of the table. After he was sure they were arranged adequately, he cast the gentlest of fire spells, hovering his hand over the plants so that the faint wisp of flame could dry them out. “I usually make it into tea, but you can eat the dried leaves on their own. It’s bitter, though. Better with honey and lemon.”

“Is that so? You’ll have to make me some of this tea sometime.” Arum leaned over the table with a smirk.

“Only if you have a headache.”

A loose strand of hair fell from Anders’s ponytail, and Arum found himself white-knuckling the table to keep from tucking it behind his ear. “I’ll just go read one of Varric’s books. I’ll be back with my brain melting out of my ears in no time.”

Anders snorted. “Well, let me know if that works.”

“Right. Um. What should I do with the thistle?”

“Same thing as the feverfew.” The little white flowers were beginning to curl up into themselves and crumble under the fire.

Arum nodded, turning his attention toward the basket of yellow blooms next to the table. The flowers themselves were small, but sharp spines shot out beneath them like sunbursts, their bright red rays a warning to anyone trying to get at the soft center and tear it apart. Don’t touch.

He reached between the thorns and prickly leaves carefully, slowly, and with more pride in his victory against one little flower than was strictly necessary. "Alright! This shouldn't be too difficult."

"Don't get cocky," Anders teased.

Arum grinned, waving the flower at Anders and setting the thorns to the side. "You don't know what you're asking of me."

"Maybe you'll give me a headache. Saves us both the trouble of having to go all the way to Varric's, because I know you keep giving your copies of his books to Aveline." The fire dimmed and faded, and Anders shook out his hands. "Here, actually, why don't I take that over? If you're so intent on having this tea, crush these leaves and flowers up and sort it into sachets for me, a few teaspoons each. The mortar and pestle should be on the second shelf on the back wall. The sachets are the next shelf down."

"Whatever you say, Commander Anders." He set the flower down and went to the far end of the clinic, where shelves and dressers were haphazardly shoved together as a makeshift storage closet. Second shelf on the back wall. "Comm… Comm-Anders? Commander…s…"

Anders let out a yelp of pain across the room.

Arum froze, looking over his shoulder with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, it's just… my headache…" Anders swept the back of his hand across his brow exaggeratedly, groaning like he was on his deathbed. "It hurts! If I hear one more awful joke, I fear my head may explode, and you'll have to clean up the mess of cerebral mush I leave behind."

"You're lucky you're cute," Arum grumbled. He turned back to the storage shelf and focused on locating the mortar and pestle.

"Hm? I didn't catch that," Anders called from where he stood at the table, picking apart thistle plants with far more ease than Arum had.

"I said you're lucky you're a healer," Arum yelled back. He tried not to smile fondly at the bright laugh that earned him.

Hands full of supplies, he went back over to the table to embark on his new task, dutiful medic's assistant that he was. It was nice, spending time with Anders like this. He had been working down at the clinic every afternoon for a few weeks now. Anders had mentioned at the tavern one night that he was overwhelmed with work, Arum offered to help, Anders insisted he'd be fine, and Arum showed up the next day anyway. All of thirty seconds were spent trying to shoo him away before Anders folded and asked him to organize the balms and salves. They worked together quietly, usually. Just instructions and a question or two before Anders scurried off to tend to one patient or another. But today the stream of clients was calmer. Which, of course, meant that the two of them were quite a bit louder.

They had an easy rapport, one that made it feel like the mere months they'd known each other were years. Anders liked to tease him, and he would groan and protest when Arum forced his help upon him—so cruelly, what a villain he was—but the crease in his brow eased up when he had an extra set of hands around. Arum liked when his jokes would make Anders crack a smile; it happened more frequently than the other man would admit, and Arum worked very hard to see it as much as he could.

It was a nice smile. Soft, sweet, with crooked teeth poking through his lips and the left corner of his mouth upturned. Mocking, sometimes, but the light in his eyes gave away his amusement. Never with all his teeth showing. Always like he was fighting it back just a bit. He wondered what it would take for Anders to smile freely.

A few teaspoons each… he hadn't grabbed a teaspoon. Was a handful close enough? He filled one of the sachets near enough to the top that it—

"Grind it up first, Hawke."

Arum blinked, looking down at the sachet in his hands that was full of bent leaves and entire flowers. "Right."

"Maker, you're usually more on top of it than this. Is something on your mind?"

"How does it work, exactly?"

Anders squinted. "The tea? It's an anti-inflammatory, it relaxes the tension in your muscles."

"No, the healing. Calling spirits for help, and all that." Arum pointed at Anders with the pestle in his right hand. "You have Justice now, but… does he do the healing…? What about before? Did you just reach out to any spirit, and you'd have to hope someone answers?"

"Ah." Anders plucked the flower out of a thistle plant, setting it into the careful pile in front of him and discarding the thorns and stem into a bag next to the table with the rest. "It's… complicated. Justice helps me now, but before that… There are benevolent spirits that guide spirit healers, and they're often chomping at the bit to help. Spirits of Compassion, especially, but Justice, Faith, Hope… They all have their reasons for lending a hand. If you ask for aid, they'll happily come along to give it."

"And you just… ask?"

"Any mage can call out to spirits through the Fade. It's like… tugging on a string, manipulating the threads around you, and they'll notice the motion and come toward it. You open yourself up as a conduit, and they use your hands to take those threads of the Fade and stitch up wounds. Of course, they can also heal bruises and welts, slow down bleeding, remedy the sick—to an extent. The more adept spirit healers can even mend broken bones."

"Really? Can you do that?"

Anders shrugged and picked up another plant. "Sometimes. My mana pool has been rather low as of late, what with all the work I've been doing. I have to take breaks and rely more on herbal treatments. It's not easy for me to get the lyrium I need to—shit. Ouch."

Arum tied off the sachet of properly ground feverfew he was holding. "Am I giving you a headache again?"

"No, I—I just cut my thumb on a thorn. Rather hypocritical of me, isn't it? I told you to be careful." He grimaced, and Arum looked at the blood dribbling down the side of his hand. "It's alright, it shouldn't be too hard to fix."

"Wait—let me." Arum set the sachet down and hurried around to the other side of the table to stand next to Anders, the toe of his left boot bumping the heel of Anders's right.

Anders eyed him curiously. "The bandages are in the… left set of drawers, third row, fourth from the left…"

He shook his head and took Anders's bleeding hand in both of his own. "No. Hold on." He furrowed his brow. "Tugging on a string, you said?"

"I did, yes."

"Okay."

Arum closed his eyes. He thought of how he interacted with the Fade when he cast elemental spells, like he'd been doing for fifteen-odd years. With a fireball, he'd call the Fade toward his target, weaving it into an orb, the threads rubbing against each other with enough friction and ferocity that a flame of raw magic would erupt in the waking world. Ice magic was slightly different; he'd make the strands shiver like he did in the cold of dawn, watching a troupe of Templars pass by the Hawkes' farmhouse from the roof of a neighbor's barn, trying to see but not be seen. It was calculated and careful, a bolt of frost shot from his fingertips toward a single adversary. The chill rippled through the Fade like a stone tossed into a pond until it made contact with the Templar on the other end, and that ripple would explode on impact and encase him with ice, freezing him in the middle of his stride.

Tugging on a string or two shouldn't be too difficult.

He squeezed Anders's hand and envisioned pulling the Fade toward him as he did, a firm but gentle motion. Um, hello, spirits. …My name is Arum Hawke, he thought. You haven't heard from me before, but I'd really appreciate a spot of healing here. It's just a small cut. Not that much blood. But I want to help. I want to ease his pain. He carries so much on his shoulders, and if I can make that weight lighter, even just a little bit…

An unfamiliar warmth began to buzz in his fingertips. Delicate, yet insistent. Almost pins and needles, like he'd fallen asleep on his hand, but not uncomfortable. He felt it spread like a rush of blood through the rest of his hand, up his arm, into the depths of his chest, toward his toes. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him. He tightened his grip on Anders's hand, steadying his feet on the ground to keep his balance.

But the buzzing and heat and faintness made him feel floaty, and he scrabbled at Anders's shoulder to keep him from drifting away, like he was lashing a boat to the Kirkwall docks in the middle of a maelstrom and the boat was already halfway out to sea. It wasn't like he could go far in the Darktown sewers if he floated off. There were maybe fifteen feet until he'd hit the ceiling. But if he fell, and he broke his leg, and Anders didn't have enough mana to heal him, and he had to stop helping in the clinic…

"…wke? Hawke? Arum, can you hear me?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, thank the Maker, you're alright. You had me worried there, you know."

"…Huh."

Arum opened his eyes, and he felt the world coming back to him. His left leg was between Anders's knees, left arm clinging to his shoulder for dear life, his forehead buried in the feathers of his coat like he'd been trying to burrow for safety. He was drenched in sweat, uncomfortably hot in his insulated robes that were practically blankets wrapped around him. His right hand had a tense grip on Anders's, still, blunt nails digging into his palm.

It took a moment for him to register that he was wrapped around Anders like a serpent trying to squeeze the life out of him and make him its next meal.

"Shit. Shit. Sorry." He leapt back as if he'd been burned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I don't… I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright, Hawke." Anders smiled gently, cheeks flushed, just a bit of teeth, and flexed his right hand now that it was free of Arum's iron grip. "It gets easier. The first time can be uncomfortable. Startling. But you'll get used to it with time. If you want to pursue this path, that is."

Arum looked down at Anders's hand. "…It worked. It worked?"

"It seemed like a taxing battle, but that thorn was no match for you in the end." He held his hand out so Arum could look at it more closely, and Arum took it, carefully touching the spot where the skin had been broken. No blood, no wound, not even a scar. As if it had never been cut at all. "I also feel… better. Like, I don't know, like I just woke up. I think the knot in my lower back is gone." He furrowed his brow, rubbing at the spot in question. "My shoulders might be looser, too…"

"Are you sure that was my doing?" Arum ran his thumb over the palm and finger-pads callused from staves and scalpels, the knuckles jutting from bony fingers, the thin strands of hair barely visible on pallid skin, all warm under Arum’s sweat-sticky touch. "It wasn't on purpose. I only meant to close that cut. But if it means you'll be in better spirits, I won't complain about having healed you a little extra."

Anders let out a laugh, a knife slashing through the cord of tension between their fingers, eyes squinting shut with the force of the smile that came with it, and Arum would have floated away again were he not anchored to the earth by the hand in his. He noticed a broken tooth on the right side of his mouth, usually hidden behind rose-pink lips, and a small dimple in his left cheek that he knew he would dream about kissing.

"Oh, shut it, you. Don't get a big head. I don't want you passing out trying to fix whatever's wrong with my hip." He gave Arum's hand a squeeze, almost unnoticeable, before slipping out of his grasp.

Arum grinned. "You have a hip problem? Let me check that out for you." He reached toward Anders's waist, giggling as his hand was swatted away. "What, you don't need more help from the newest healer in town?"

"Hawke!" Anders rolled his eyes, but Arum could still see the broken tooth. "What you need is to go home and rest after that. You look exhausted. I need to finish sorting out that feverfew, since you're not going to finish it yourself."

"Wait, no, let me help—"

"You've helped enough, you big lug. Get out of here." Anders flicked him on the nose.

"Hey! Ow!"

"Oh, come on, it didn't hurt that badly."

"Fuck, I think I'm bleeding. If only there were a healer in this clinic who could—"

"Go home, Hawke."

"Alright, alright." Arum stepped back, only realizing how close they'd gotten when he couldn't feel Anders's hot breath on his face anymore. "Don't come crying to me when your hip gives out, old man. I'm going to go… I don't know, cure some dying children or something."

Anders sighed, and it made Arum feel fuzzy. "Whatever. I'll be at the Hanged Man at nightfall. Varric wants to play cards, so there's your chance to get the ego boost you so desperately crave."

Arum turned toward what could ostensibly be called the door and stretched his arms over his head, letting out a yawn he hadn't felt coming. He was exhausted. "You can count on it. I'll kick your ass later, then."

——————————

He didn't remember falling asleep when he got back to Gamlen's house, but he must have been knocked out the moment his head hit the so-called pillow, because he closed his eyes and opened them in the Fade. It was brighter than usual, so much so that he needed to shield his eyes from the… sun? Was it the sun? The light shone from every direction, accompanied by a soft humming, like cicadas and fireflies in the Ferelden marshes, the sounds of a peaceful summer evening when his family could pretend that they were happy.

He felt the light dimming as the scene morphed around him, white light giving way to orange and magenta, the air suddenly thick with moisture. His feet grew damp, toes sunken into grass and mud, and he glanced around; the Hawke house stood in the distance, unblighted and unburned, visible through hanging willows and over the stone wall he wasn't supposed to cross unless his father was following behind him. Instinctively, he looked over his shoulder. He was alone. But he felt safe. No one would harm him here.

"Don't worry," came a singsong voice from in front of him. Arum startled and whipped his head around, nearly slipping in the mud with the force.

Smiling in a small spot of dappled sunlight was what he could only assume was a spirit. It resembled him, almost, though in shades of reddish pink; it was a bit shorter, a bit broader, and its hair was trimmed close to its head. The resemblance, but the lack of tattoos—Malcolm.

"Shit—Maker's breath, don't sneak up on me here," Arum said with a grimace. "Who are you? Why are you him?"

The spirit frowned. "Should I not be? I wanted to make you comfortable. He kept you safe here."

Arum looked at it again and promptly squeezed his eyes shut, unable to hold eye contact with him. It? He wasn't sure. "No. Anyone else. Genuinely, anyone else. Or just… no one? What's your regular form?"

"Hmm… I could be that. But I like being a person!"

"Then pick someone I don't know, or something."

"Okay!" Arum heard a briefly louder buzz, like a gnat flying close to his ear, and he instinctively swatted at it. "No, that was just me, silly. I'm different now!"

Arum opened his eyes. The spirit had taken the appearance of an unfamiliar elven man, light hair tied back in a neat ponytail, draped in elegant robes. He let out the breath he’d been inadvertently holding. "Are there bugs in this… Fade… spirit… memory swamp?"

"Should I get rid of them?"

"Please."

The buzzing in the background suddenly stopped. It left Arum and the spirit standing in an empty silence, blinking back and forth like toads on a log.

"Hi!" the spirit said cheerily.

They stared at each other. The spirit's unnervingly genuine smile didn't budge.

"Can you bring the bugs back?"

"Okay!"

Arum sighed in relief when the buzzing picked up again, trying to relax his shoulders. "So, what's all this about? Usually, when I dream, I just kind of… walk around a bit, cast a few fireballs at old-looking buildings, dwell on things my father said to me ten years ago until I wake up. The spirits don't usually talk to me. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes!" The spirit took a step closer to him. He took a half-step back. "You're Arum Hawke?"

"…I am."

The spirit stepped forward again, grasping Arum's right hand in both of its spectral ones before he could react. The contact was almost electric, but not quite; it was hot, fuzzy, pins and needles against his skin. "You asked for help. And I helped you. I want to keep helping you."

Arum raised his eyebrows. "And you are…?"

"Compassion. One of many such spirits, but Compassion is who I am." The spirit cocked its head to the side, its long ponytail swishing with the movement. "I help a lot. Lots of different people, in different places. I like to see new faces, new parts of the world. It's my favorite! But there's something in your soul, Arum Hawke. A compassion I haven't seen in other mortals. And I want to follow it. If you would let me."

"That's not…" Arum frowned. "I don't know what you mean. I'm not really much kinder than your average person."

"I want to help. I want to ease his pain. He carries so much on his shoulders, and if I can make that weight lighter, even just a little bit…" The voice that came out of Compassion's mouth was Arum's own. Words he hadn't spoken out loud, but he remembered thinking them, his fingers touching Anders's rather than the spirit's. "He only had a small cut, but you saw so much more pain in him. The knot in his back, the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion from working himself so hard, so much, for so many people. You saw it. Not many of you notice those things in others."

"Well, yes, but Anders is… different. I'm not usually like that."

Compassion tilted its head the other way, pursing its lips in thought. "What makes him different?"

Arum sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you want me to get into that? You're a spirit of Compassion, aren't you? Can't you, I don't know, read my feelings?"

"His eyes meet mine, and my heart leaps like a grasshopper. He laughs, a thunderclap in this city’s perpetual storm, and oh, how the thunder shakes my very soul, how the lightning of his touch shocks me to life. He smiles at me, and how many have seen the broken tooth that only shows when it’s real? I want to see it again. I want to keep it for myself, locked in a box, stashed under my bed, to protect it, so the world can't steal it away. He licks his chapped lips, hoping to make them softer. I want to lick them, too. I want to drag my tongue down his—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Maker's balls. I don't know what I was asking for." Heat rapidly flowed to Arum's cheeks, and elsewhere, which he would really prefer the spirit not to comment on.

"I won't tell anyone," Compassion said with a giggle.

"Andraste's flaming tits, you'd better not. I don't even know how you would."

"I could talk to him, next time he dreams."

"Please don't do that."

"Alright!" Compassion beamed at him, squeezing his hand hard enough to make him flinch. What kind of force was that? Physical? Metaphysical? …It wasn't important.

Arum sighed. "Regardless. I don't even know what I'm doing with this healing thing. And I'm not special. Why do you want to follow me around? Kirkwall isn't very exciting. Tends to be the opposite, really. Unpleasant. You're a nice guy. I wouldn't want it to dampen your… spirit."

Compassion's image shifted, from the elven stranger to an elf he knew all too well. Her eyes met his, perpetually wide, like a halla trying to decide if it should run. Merrill opened her mouth, but she spoke with Arum’s voice. "What if she draws too much? She's careful, but not as careful as she thinks. Her cuts are different sizes and depths. I trust her, but I want to be there if something goes wrong. Something can always go wrong. And if she can't stand on her own in a fight, I have to protect her."

It changed to Isabela, a little bit taller, wearing her ever-confident smile. "She keeps secrets. It worries me. She's hiding something dangerous. I don't want her to get hurt. How dangerous? How much trouble is she in? She turns into a shadow by the docks, disappearing like a frightened cat—or a guilty one. Who would I have to fight to protect her?"

A bit shorter, next, but broader, Fenris's steady gaze set on his. "He's hiding. He's not running anymore, but he's hiding. Danarius could appear in Kirkwall any day. I won't let him take him back. None of us will. His blood will be spilt for the last time in this city. But we've never fought a magister. What tactics does he have? If Fenris's blade isn't enough, I have to protect him."

Taller, again, to Aveline, brow set in determination. "She's grieving, but she won't let herself take the time for it. Always busy, always working away the pain. She throws herself into the Guard so she won't think about the life she lost. She won't lose them like she lost the others. Everything she does is to protect the citizens, protect the Guard, protect Kirkwall. But is anyone going to protect her?"

The hand in his grew thicker, firmer, sheathed in one of Varric's fine leather gloves. "He laughs and jokes, but there's more to it, I can tell. Something in the air between him and Bartrand. This Deep Roads expedition is fishy. What's the motivation behind it? What's really down there? If we find some bloodthirsty ogre or another, can I protect him?"

The spirit shifted once again, and Arum closed his eyes, knowing what would come. "He resents me. He hates that I'm his brother. He wishes it were me, not Bethany. I don't blame him. Father never loved him as much as me, and even that's a low bar. But I made a promise. No matter what, I'm going to protect him."

He felt the hand turn smaller, just a bit wrinkled. He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. "She can't fight. She's done everything she can to get us here, as safe as we can be in Kirkwall. She deserves better than this. I don't think I can give it to her. I can try, but I'm a mage. I can only do so much. The least I can do is to promise to protect her."

Another shift. A familiar hand in his. Was it Compassion's warmth, or was he imagining it? "What he does puts him at risk for the sake of those who need his help. He's in danger every second of every day. What if he's too worn out and can't defend himself? He can't go back. They'll kill him, or worse. I can't let that happen. I swear, until my last breath, to protect him."

Finally, the buzzing hand released his, as it changed back to its slender form. Arum stayed still for a moment, trying to calm the dizziness that threatened to knock him to his knees. He hadn't noticed how fast his heart had begun to race.

"Do you see, Arum Hawke?" Compassion spoke in its own voice again. "You care for them. More than you realize."

Arum took a slow, deep breath, opening his eyes to look at the spirit. "What's your point?"

"I want to follow you. Watch you care for them. Help you care for them. From here, from the Fade, not from there. You can protect them, as you are. But you are capable of much, much more. Let me show you how."

He looked down at his now-empty hands. He could never quite get the hang of wielding a sword; he tried to learn, so he could have his bases covered, but his fingers struggled to grasp it quite like a staff. He was too clumsy to strike from the shadows; even a drunkard would hear him trying to sneak up behind them and cut their throat. He knew his way around fire and ice well enough. But Compassion was right. There was more he could do. He had always felt that there was more. How well could he really keep them alive with fireballs? What would he do if Anders ran out of mana, if he couldn't heal anymore? Someone had to be there to heal him, too.

"Alright. Fine. You help me keep them safe, and I'll help you… I'm not really sure what you wanted my help with, but I'll do it."

Compassion smiled so widely that Arum was afraid its face would split open. "Excellent! You are so kind, Arum Hawke. Too kind. I thank you for your generosity."

Arum huffed. "Hey, it's not really that big of a—Maker's cock and balls, you're a hugger." He felt the wind being knocked out of him by the buzzing arms that were flung around his torso. The spirit giggled, and Arum rubbed his forehead. He didn't know it was possible to get a headache in a dream, but he wished he could have a cup of that feverfew tea in the Fade, too.

"I can make tea! Would you like some?"

Arum looked at the spirit, its ponytail bobbing as it laughed. The translucent red-pink of its body matched the sunset sky peeking through the trees. A firefly buzzed up to him, landing on his right hand. He didn't swat it away. He took in its droning hum, an irritating noise that brought him a comfort he hadn't realized he missed. After a moment, it flew off, and he watched its blinking light rejoin the cloud of bright dots that zigged and zagged in constellations over the swamp. He dug his toes deeper into the mud. The soggy hems of his pants brushed against his ankles in the breeze.

He laughed. It came from deep in his chest, unexpectedly hoarse, like it was dry and dusty and being used for the first time in a while. He supposed that might have been true. He laughed a lot, but not like this. Not since fireflies and muddy feet and chasing the sunset home.

"Sure, Fade tea. Why not?"

[moonlitmedarda]

ׄᐧ✧ if you dare ✧ׂᐧ

Melvika Week - Day 1

prompt: Kisses (@melvikaweek2025)

word count: 3k

Sevika has done her best to develop patience since beginning her time as a Councilor. She wants to do right by her people, to do right by the community she’s fought to protect since she was old enough to walk. 

However, focusing on creating new trade routes to Zaun and advocating for the recovering citizens was virtually impossible when a literal goddess was standing before her day in and day out. 

Mel Medarda was a mystery.  

They see each other nearly every day since the war's end, yet Sevika only knows surface-level details.

She knew of the woman through the years while working under Silco, as Mel was— in a way— one of the most prominent faces of the Council. It was wise to keep tabs on the perfect Piltover princess leading the council into the luxurious future (and far away from the dirty Undercity). 

But Sevika also knows Mel had a hand in ending the war, that her own mother led the charge, and that through feats Sevika wasn’t sure she’d be able to complete, Mel assisted in saving them all. The grief that clings to her like a shroud is testimony enough. Some days it lessens, but on others it seemed to choke her where she stands, and it is plain as day on her pretty face. The older woman looks at Mel with respect and gratitude. The longer she looks, the harder she falls.

And that is a serious problem. There simply isn't enough time for these kinds of feelings to blind Sevika. She has a job to do, a responsibility to the people of Zaun. They fought hard to get even an inkling of recognition. This wasn’t the time to lose focus. But her eyes refused to get the memo. 

During every meeting, they wander over to the woman and trail over her lithe form with a wholesome admiration unfamiliar to Sevika. She studied from the golden freckles that dusted Mel's high cheekbones down to the consistent gold paint donning her nails.

Something about the woman draws Sevika to her like a moth to a flame. 

On a rainy afternoon, after a particularly mundane and unproductive meeting, Mel pulls her aside. Just as Sevika is stomping out of the chambers, head downturned as defeat begins to take over, a glimmer of sunlight pulls her from the inevitable spiral. 

“Sevika, walk with me?” Mel requests, her voice soft as she leans just the slightest bit forward. 

Sevika nods and lets the woman lead her out of the chambers and into the courtyard for some fresh air. They stroll through the small gardens and out into the unfamiliar breeze.

The war left Piltover ravaged, but a few months removed, the new Council made strides in turning the city into a new kind of beauty. But none of it compares to Mel.

As she guides Sevika through the gardens, the sun's rays cascade down onto her soft, dark skin. She is ethereal. Even the plants seem to reach out to touch her. 

“How have you been finding your new apartment? Do you need anything?” Mel questions. Her hands are clasped behind her straight back. Even in her heels, she has to look the slightest bit up at Sevika. The sight thrills her. 

“Oh yeah, the place is nice. It’s still weird…being topside so consistently. I appreciate how close it is to the chambers, makes my life a hell of a lot easier. The stipend for the furniture is a little extreme, though. I still have leftovers, and they refuse to take them back.” Sevika complains, the luxury of this position continues to make her uncomfortable.

Even moving into Piltover was a big adjustment, one she still isn't certain about. It feels ike something too close to betrayal of the roots that made her. 

“Well, I’ll have to be the judge of that. If you still have money left over, you’re doing it wrong. You deserve to have a space with the proper accommodations and conditions that make it a home to you. Or at least a comfortable home away from home.” Mel says, her voice almost chastising, but the softness of her honeyed voice relays her genuine concern. 

She is a light Sevika has never seen before. She wants to look into it—into her—all the time.

“I’ll take your word for it, princess. I have more important things to do than shop— like resist the urge to chase down Shoola.” Sevika starts, letting Mel lead her into advice with a playful roll of her eyes at the petty situation. They devolve into a conversation about Shoola's last-minute decision to back out of a proposal, and Mel listens as Sevika briefly rants.

This has become a habit since Sevika joined the council. It was the highlight of her day, finding moments with Mel to learn about this new world and watch her navigate issues with poised ease. Watching her use her brilliant mind to create the solutions they so desperately needed. 

It would be hard to see her leave. Sevika was well aware that Mel had responsibilities to attend to in Noxus. She’d upended her family line and needed to settle the unrest. But her impending absence made the feelings Sevika felt blooming within her even more pressing. 

The walk leads them out of the chambers and into the city. Sevika has nothing to do until the evening, so she happily follows Mel the short distance to her apartment. 

“Are you just going to stare at me all day, or are you going to answer my question?” Mel teases, nudging Sevika's shoulder with her slim, gold-laden shoulder. 

“Huh?” Sevika clumsily replies, her mind stuttering to a halt as she tries to catch up in the conversation. Mel watches with a lifted eyebrow and a smirk. “Sorry, I’m running on low sleep. Mind’s not where it should be.” 

“Clearly.” Mel teases even further. “Are you free this afternoon? I have a few proposals I think you’ll find quite useful, and I would like to adjust your most recent one. Hopefully, things won't take too long, and you can get back to rest. My apartment isn’t far.” She offers, and despite the rush of fear, Sevika blindly agrees. 

The pair enters Mel’s apartment less than 15 minutes later, and Sevika tenses at the new, sleek environment. In all their time getting to know each other as colleagues, both inside the council chambers and out, Sevika had never seen the inside of Mel’s home. It was luxurious, in an understated way. The tasteful decor and beautiful furniture, combined with the beautiful art, made the space feel like the kind of place Sevika should not be.

Once upon a time, she would have robbed a place like this. But today she was watching her colleague pull out her notes and a decanter of fine wine. Life can change in the blink of an eye…or in this case, over the course of several excruciating few decades. 

The pair sits in Mel’s study, the desk cluttered with an array of paperwork and half-finished proposals they will be going over... at some point. A few plates of dessert sit on the desk, out of the way of the papers and beside the glasses of wine. Sevika’s stomach threatens to rumble. 

“You’ve been working hard over the past few weeks, I thought a few treats might make the work a bit more relaxing.” The woman offers with a smile that borders on sheepish, and the sweet way she fiddles with the sleeve of her robe makes Sevika’s heart sore.

She feels herself loosen. The tension melts from Sevika's frame as she allows Mel to guide her into one of the chairs. 

They make easy small talk about the recent developments in medical buildings, air quality improvements, and housing regarding Zaun as they settle in. The talk pulls Sevika’s mind back into focus. 

She isn’t here for fun, despite how much she enjoys Mel’s quick wit and surprisingly hard-to-resist humor.

The wine is what snaps the last threads of control. It’s good shit that actually tastes nice. Nothing less is expected when Mel Medarda presents a wine pairing. It’s this lush, dark berry flavor with a hint of something chocolatey that makes her drink it fast. 

“This is one of my favorite Noxian wines. It’s usually served with a little dark chocolate truffle, but the closest I could get here was this cake. I’ll try harder to get one for us the next time we have to do something like this.” She says offhandedly, her hazel eyes gleaming with excitement and sorrow as she pairs the sip with a bite of cake.

“Isn’t the goal for me to not need your help anymore?” Sevika questions with a snort, mirroring Mel and pairing a sip of wine with the dark chocolate cake. 

Her eyes slip shut, and the moan that escapes her lips should be a source of embarrassment, but the delicious tastes blind Sevika for a few moments. So much so that she completely misses the heated look Mel gives her as she makes her pleasure with the flavor vocal. 

“Janna, you weren’t kidding. I could have this for dessert every day.” Sevika groans, taking another sip of wine to experience the dark berry flavors washing over her tongue again. 

“I did for a few years. It was a great homesickness remedy for a while. But that’s beside the point. The true goal of these meetings is for you to have so many opportunities for Zaun that you’ll need to have me on retainer at all times.” Mel jokes, earning a surprised chuckle from Sevika. 

“So you like slumming with the council's underdog, huh?” Sevika rumbles with a smirk.

“I like spending time with the protector of Zaun, a woman who fights tirelessly for the liberation and respect of her community. I happen to think she’s quite interesting.” Mel comes back softly, gazing down into the nearly empty glass in her hands. 

She speaks as if she’s confessing for the first time why she makes time for Sevika in such a capacity. But Sevika isn’t sure how to respond. She's nearly 50 years old, and she still struggles to express her emotions to this woman.

Vulnerability is not her strong suit. The thought of vocalizing the feelings swirling behind her sternum makes her nauseous. But maybe a few more glasses of this wine might give her the courage.

Before long, the work is abandoned, and the women are just enjoying wine and snacks that Mel ordered on a whim. 

They get along well. Better than Sevika expects. Mel is witty, funny, and at times shy in a way that surprises her. She was such a socialite, but in the quiet comfort of this apartment, she is so soft. At times, she looks up at Sevika with such vulnerability and softness that the woman regrets coming. Because there is no way that someone like her could handle Mel with care. She was a disaster waiting to happen. Mel deserves better.

When they finish the bottle, another is quickly opened. By this point, they both have let go of the false pretense of work. They made it through a few proposals halfheartedly, but now they are simply trading stories and anecdotes back and forth.

Mel shares the first time she sparred with her Mother, and how quickly the ruthless general withdrew said training when Mel so much as teared up. Sevika shares the story of her first heist and how she'd managed to upset a Piltover storefront's guard dog. The damn thing chased her nearly a mile. Each story brings them one step closer to understanding one another, and the curiosity only grows.

They transfer from the study into the plush living room after the first glass of the second bottle. The sun is just setting below the horizon, casting the most beautiful hues of reds, oranges, and purples across the sky. The wide windows of Mel’s apartment give the perfect view.

It serves as the perfect background to Mel’s unraveling beauty.

Throughout the evening, she’s been progressively letting go of hair adornments, jewelry, and extra clothing layers. She makes no big fuss of it; she simply takes off the accessory and places it on a nearby surface. Almost as if she does not realize the show of trust. All the unnecessary bits of her armor fall away with every story shared, leaving her bare braids falling down the soft material of her dark dress.

The trails of gold tattoos that Sevika wants to caress are out in the open—Janna, it’s been a while since she had a drink. She cut back after a few too many spirals post-war. A few too many glimpses of blue hair and big gold eyes. It’s catching up to her fast.

A low thrum of want curls in her chest the longer she watches Mel, but there is no way this could work. Sevika is not worthy of her. She is an undercity ogre whose only means of communication is violence. She could never be what Mel needed, what she deserved. 

Surges of panic bubble up in her chest, choking her and almost sending the wine back up. She can't do it. The words tumble from Sevika’s mouth before she can stop them.

“We shouldn’t do this anymore.” 

The mood is broken immediately. Regret and guilt fill her as she watches Mel wilt. The woman visibly swallows down the burgeoning embarrassment and bites her lip as she takes in Sevika’s words. She looks like a wet kitten. Deflated and unsure, fuck she should have taken a second to think before blurting out the first thing on her mind. 

“I’m sorry, I—I have overstepped. I apologize. You are free to leave at any time, and if you’re concerned about your sobriety, I’ll have El—I’ll have a car called for you.” The other woman rambles, tears slowly filling her eyes as she spirals. Sevika can see it behind her hazel eyes, and she’s quick to reach over and comfort her. She grasps Mel’s hands in her own, in a tight grip, and looks down at her. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I just…I panicked for a second and said the first thing that came to my mind. I just meant that…I’m starting to develop unprofessional feelings for you. I know this wine is not helping, but I don’t want to run the risk of making you uncomfortable or——

“—Sevika,” Mel gently interrupts. “You do realize that you are perfectly capable of completing these proposals and passing new aid on your own, right? You were the right hand of Zaun’s most notorious Chembaron—you were practically a Councilor yourself, though with a different ruleset. I’ve inserted myself because I’ve found such peace in our time together…and I have been feeling rather unprofessional things myself.” She confesses quietly, every word carefully placed as if ensuring her message is received. 

And it is, though Sevika can’t believe this is truly happening. “You….you aren’t just saying that, are you? You don’t have to let me down easy, I—

Mel interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a graceful lean forward to press her lips to Sevika’s. It is an innocent peck full of promise. Her soft, wine-stained lips still taste of chocolate and her lipstick's underlying sweetness. 

“I have wanted to kiss you for months. I felt so guilty…holding so much grief, needing to focus on so much responsibility...and still wanting to be close to you. Still wanting to hold you.” Mel confesses in a haunted whisper that Sevika soothes with another kiss. This one is slightly longer, the heat of their growing desire beginning to spring forth. 

“I've been trying to pour myself into this work day in and day out to help Zaun. I felt guilty, wanting to be near you all the time and still needing to be an advocate for so many... But I'm realizing it's like you said. We’ve been working hard, and we deserve a reward. The warmth and awe I feel when you come near me feels like something we should indulge in… something we should explore.” Sevika confesses softly, giving in to the urge to get closer by pressing her hand to Mel’s face. Holding the golden goddess of a woman in her hands and cherishing every second. 

Mel melts into her touch, her eyes going soft. “I want to…But I need you to know that despite the impending trip, I want this to last. I don’t want this to be one time…” She confesses, and relief floods Sevika as her words. 

“Good. I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go after this…I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to.” Sevika promises, some cracked part of herself falling into place the moment Mel’s composure breaks.

She climbs into Sevika’s lap, full of hunger and desperation. Kisses grow hungrier, more passionate by the second. They move together in an easy rhythm, one that they fall into with no hesitation. But Mel's hips roll in search of friction in the most distracting way.

Sevika soothes her, moving her hand up and down her back, feeling the warmth of her skin. Mel practically squirms under her touch, her kiss becomes more frantic as arousal begins to take over. The slight grinding into Sevika’s abs sends the woman into a tailspin. 

But in the midst of their kiss Mel pulls away briefly. A yawn forces its way out of her, and its so adorable Sevika in her tipsy state wants to coo. She wants to, but refuses.

"I apologize, I forgot the drowsiness that hits after a few glasses of this wine, I still want to--

"--I can make you scream in the morning, princess. I'm feeling a bit sleepy myself." Sevika confesses, grey eyes drooping as she fights sleep.

"A side effect of your age I imagine." Mel teases quietly, letting out a delighted laugh when Sevika wrestles her back onto the couch in retaliation.

"You're the dainty little thing who yawns after a few glasses of wine. Get your pretty ass up and show me where the bedroom is. Big Mama needs a nap."

[gu6chan]

work related question does anyone have any fun anime for likely 12-14 year olds that to their ulta-conservative conspiracy theory parents would have no objectionable content whatsoever that's not like . pokemon. i live in the most conservative area in michigan btw /hj

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I don’t get why people feel like the Duolingo owl is threatening, if I ever feel like he is I just get mad at him. I could fight an owl. I don’t know if I’d win, but I don’t think I’d lose (two things that can apparently coexist). I think I’d survive at least and that’s not really winning but also not losing.

You wanna be so threatening? Da bør du drepe meg!

[vulpinesaint]

Hi, I wanted to ask you how you make your quizzes. They’re beautiful and chilling, but more importantly they’re right. I’ve never had any answer tug on my heartstrings in a way that feels so personal like these

hi, my love! first of all, thank you. as to being right: i've talked about it elsewhere, but i'm really fond of the joke my friends made about quizzes being the equivalent of tarot for me. i think it's apt, both in the way that i manage to pull at some specific emotional strings and in the way that the person who gets the results gives those words meaning for themself :) if you want to live in a delightful fantasy world with me you can believe that i am a little bit psychic... i have loved doing this kind of thing forever though. in middle school i used to make little fortune tellers that would be like. different desserts as the final options. and i was always right with those too haha

to be really honest, though, i don't think there's a huge trick to it! i'm only writing about nine possible results for people to end up with, so i keep them as kind of general archetypes. are they a little specific and personal! um! yes! but you know what i mean. when an answer pulls from an idea of giving too much of yourself or a fear of never being loved or never being seen, those are very personal, but they're personal to different people in different ways. hence why it's so important that the reader gives the words a meaning that is personal to them :) plus the more specific you are the more people will pop up to tell you that their result was NOT meaningful to them. which. hey man. there are only nine results and also i am writing a personality quiz on the internet i am not going to rip someone's soul out every time <3 only most of the time <3

once you've got the results though it's just. assigning them to answers. i don't write questions with anything specific in mind rlly and results get assigned to answers based on vibes <3 in my head i am looking at the possible answers for a question and going "okay... the type of person who would end up with [ insert result here ]... which answer feels like one they would choose..." and sometimes it's a matter of optimistic vs. pessimistic answers and sometimes it's a matter of okay well. i think this is more of a lilac answer than a sunflower haha (which... again... if you want to live in my beautiful world... play in the space with me... i like to believe that i am following a little bit of an innate sense there... but it could all just come down to pattern recognition in the end <3). i really wish i had something more helpful to say but i really think it is writing about a specific yet widely-applicable issue and then following the vibes. none of this stops me from getting clocked over the head with my own quizzes either. took the last one going "haha i don't even know what answer i would get! maybe the chalice?" and then i got the statue and i had to sit and stare at my screen for a while. local man gets called out for being a perfectionist to the point of detracting from the joy of the art itself by one of the various projects where he has detracted from the joy of the art itself by insisting that it's not good enough it's not precise enough it's not exact enough. anyway. time to go back to being really incredibly normal about my poetry grad school apps

[longagoitwastuesday]

you seem to have a wide taste in books !! what are some books that you would recommend ??

Hmmm I wonder. I have the feeling I just read the same couple of books over and over, and at times only different iterations of the same story, like in that line by Borges ("the various intonations of a few metaphors").

I find recommending books without knowing anything at all about the person asking rather difficult. What I'd suggest to one may differ greatly from what I'd recommend to someone else. I'll give a list of some of my favourite books that I think are enjoyable in general:

— Thoughts by Pascal

— Cain: a mystery by Lord Byron

— The Iliad by Homer

— Crime and Punishment by Dostoievsky

— Othello by Shakespeare

— Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo

— Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand

— The fragments of the Presocratics

— La Regenta by Leopoldo Alas, Clarín

— Tractatus Logico-philosophicus by Wittgenstein

— East of Eden by John Steinbeck

— Vita nova by Dante

— Contributions to the Founding of the Theory of Transfinite Numbers by Georg Cantor

— Caligula by Albert Camus

— North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

— Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie

— Some essays by Russell. I personally love Mysticism and Logic

— Metamorphoses by Ovid

Poetry is perhaps harder to recommend because at times it translates horribly, but in general I love Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Lorca, Juan Ramón Jiménez, Rilke, Byron, Quevedo, Góngora, Lope de Vega, Horace, Catullus, Ovid, Tennyson, Maiakovsky, Garcilaso de la Vega, Oliverio Girondo, Vicente Huidobro, Emily Brontë, T. S. Eliot, César Vallejo, Luis Cernuda and Edgar Allan Poe, to name a few.

[devils-yui]

Reposting this from a friend bc I think it is VERY important to know of this, and for immigrants, and other possible victims of the ICE Raids happening right now

Here’s to also a very huge edit, from the list of very helpful people who have been reblogging and providing more info.

I’m not as well informed but I will be relaying the information and tagging each person who added onto this post:

@onthedriftinthetardis -

The phone number in the first photo is ONLY for Orange County, California!

Look up your local ACLU affiliate here

@6feetunderwater -

It always makes me nervous to see a reporting phone number passed around without any links to verify it, so the number in the first pic can be found on the site for the Orange County Rapid Response Network, which is "an interconnected system of non-profit and grassroots organizations, civil rights attorneys, law school clinics, and individuals working together to respond to dehumanizing immigration enforcement activities and policies in Orange County"

@geekerypeekery -

The second warrant is not fake, but is an administrative rather than judicial warrant, and has no constitutional authority to bypass Fourth Amendment protections - in other words, it does not entitle the bearer to enter and search your home. It simply authorizes agents of the issuing department to contact you. Always ask to see the warrant before opening your door!

In addition to the ACLU links, try contacting the National Immigration Law Center https://www.nilc.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Warrants-Subpoenas-Facts.pdf

@american-anger -

The phone number listed here is specific to Orange County in California, but you can look up other California counties here:

CALIFORNIA RAPID RESPONSE NETWORKS

@beaniebaneenie -

Unpleasant reminder: within 100 miles of the border (which is home to 200 million people and virtually all major cities in the US), ICE does not need a warrant to enter your home, your car, to search anything, or even to arrest you.

You are not automatically safe just because they don't have a real warrant.

The best and safest thing you can do is learn to have escape routes- quick ways to get out of the house or area you're in if you find out ICE or CBP are around. Those of us who do have documentation? Time for us to step the fuck up.

Film any interaction. Every interaction. If you're able, step into the conversation and be a Karen/Kyle- weaponize your privilege for Good. If you get asked about people? Use positive but vague statements so you a) cannot be caught in a lie, and b) do not give any information away.

"I don't know them that well, but I don't tend to socialize much. They seem great to me."

"I can't remember the last time I saw them."

"Maybe they speak another language, I can't remember details. But I picked up Duolingo during the pandemic and tons of other people did too."

"I'm not sure."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Even if you're somewhere the 100-mile Exception doesn't apply and a warrant is in fact needed? I don't expect ICE and CBP to play by the rules for long, if at all. I fully expect this to get ugly, and fast.

Cheeto has already declared an emergency of national security at the border, and is mobilizing the military to have jurisdiction over a huge swath of the country. It's essentially tantamount to martial law. And it's only been four days.

Gear up for a long, hard fight. This is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.

— I am leaving all of this as an edit because on the off chance someone does find the posts that have these people specifically reblogging, I don’t want it to be too late. So I’m comprising it all here

Here are a few other people’s reblogs I thought were important:

Thank you @onthedriftinthetardis @6feetunderwater @geekerypeekery @american-anger @beaniebaneenie @bunnychiffon @dubiouslynamed @trisockatops @witchy-disaster for contributing and helping me make this a more well-informed post. Thank you so much

[sappho-of-suburbia]

eating a girl out for the first time? as someone with a couple of decades' experience (i started young, ok?), can i offer some advice?

take your time. your aim isn't to make her come as fast as possible, it's to make sure she enjoys every moment. slow down, revel in the process of finding out what she likes.

tell her how beautiful she is, how tempting her cunt looks, how intoxicating it smells, how sweet she tastes. she might be feeling vulnerable, especially if she's inexperienced too - it's your job to make her feel safe and adored.

enjoy the journey - i know you just want to feel your tongue on her clit NOW, but exploring her thighs, working your way slowly to her folds, trailing all the way up her cunt, drinking her juices, letting her feel your breath before she feels your touch...it'll be worth it. for both of you.

learn to read her body with all of your senses. she might be vocal but she might prefer to bite her lip or enjoy being gagged. you don't need to hear her words to know what to do. you'll feel her muscles twitch and relax - learn what it means when she lifts her hips, squirms or sinks into you. she might taste and smell differently when she is close to coming for you. pay close attention to her clit - if you're lucky and you've done a particularly good job, you might see it twitch as she recovers from the perfect orgasm. enjoy it.

you can be vocal though. moan into her. use every sensation you can. light flicks to determined, long, slow licks. blow gently on her wetness. how does she react to your lip piercing? your teeth?

build and add to the experience until she's completely overwhelmed. play with her nipples. run your nails over her skin. lift her legs and spank her.

chances are, she'll get to the point where she really needs you to fuck her. slip your tongue all the way down and inside her. if you can't breathe, you're doing it right. that means you probably won't be able to keep it up for hours, so save this move for when she's right on the edge and you're ready to let her tip over.

if you're especially lucky and she's a squirter, you will get absolutely soaked. enjoy it. show her you're enjoying it. moan into her cunt; she'll come even harder.

if she needs to be fucked harder, slip your fingers inside her cunt and curl them up towards your tongue as it circles her clit. all of her most sensitive nerves will be between your tongue and your fingers. you'll be able to feel every tiny twitch inside her; it's the most beautiful place in the world to be.

when she can truly take no more, stay close to her as you drift away from her cunt. kiss your way up her tummy and her chest, let her taste herself on your lips as you hold her and let her ride out the aftershocks. trail your fingertips over her back. whisper in her ear. tell her everything you loved about eating her out.