#the desire for eyebrows is genetic

[west-brooke]

Wait Donnie’s dad has a body count?! Who has this turtle killed?

I love this au and I am overly invested in this turtle in particular.

He has killed ten billion people. Or he would, if he could.

[holybibly]

Personally, I think we don't talk about Professor Choi San enough, don't you?

I don't like Mondays, but I like San, and this is just what I need to start the week sinfully.

"You've been behaving very badly lately, Y/N." The voice of your literature professor sounds light-hearted, as if he's talking to you about a fun game rather than an exam that you already failed three times. Besides, you have committed a number of other offences that could have earned you a reprimand, and Professor Choi seems to take every opportunity to remind you. "Skipping classes, constantly getting bad grades, and a generally destructive attitude..." He lists, turning to the blackboard to erase today's topic: "Sins and desires in Dante's Inferno." It was almost impossible not to look at his firm, toned ass, wrapped tightly in the fabric of his trousers. He reached for a particularly large inscription on the board. "For lack of a better term." He says this, turning to meet you, and the expression on his face tells you he notices where you're looking.

You lower your head in embarrassment, avoid making eye contact with him, and pull your skirt down a little.

"You and I both know that we've tried just about everything we could to correct your inappropriate behaviour." Professor Choi says this as you continue to look down in guilt as he walks over to you and slightly loosens the tight knot of his tie around his long, freckled neck. There was something about the way he was able to make such simple things seem so incredibly sexy, with no subtext at all, that made your stomach tingle. You'd be lying if you said you couldn't picture him tightening the tie around you and putting you on a leash as you rode his cock. "You were detained, suspended, counseled..." He stops in front of you, and you can smell his scent—something heavy and dark, like amber and whisky—or sex. God, you thought you couldn't be more despairing, but apparently Choi San was designed to destroy your sanity. "There is only one way that I can think of to solve this problem." He says. Professor Choi brings his hand to your chin, his fingers surprisingly cold, but the metal of his ring is hot on your skin as he gently raises your head to meet his feline eyes.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you stare into the handsome face of the man. If you didn't know better, you'd say Professor Choi's face was hand-carved by the finest Renaissance sculptors, because it's hard to believe that those sharp, perfect lines were created by something as trivial as genetics. He raises a questioning eyebrow and watches your reaction like a predator waiting for you to fall into his trap. Without realising it, you give him what he wants, nodding obediently to his words, your lips parting slightly.

"You have behaved very badly, and to correct this you must obediently follow what I tell you. Do you understand me, or not?" This could be your only chance to back out, but instead you look up at him through the lace of fluffy eyelashes with wide, innocent eyes.

"I do, Professor Choi."

His eyes grow darker and more predatory than they were before.

"I'd like you to bend down over my desk. Now." Professor Choi commands, and you obey immediately, throwing your bag on the floor and resting your forearms on his desk, facing the perfectly clean board. You can feel the fabric of your pleated skirt lift a little and slide higher up your thighs, exposing the delicate ruffled panties made of silk.

You hear Professor Choi move in behind you and feel his sinewy hands sliding down your sides in a teasing way to your hips before he pushes one hand down your lower back until your chest is pressed up against his desk. You support yourself with your arms, your plump tits falling out of the cups of your bra, and your hard, swollen nipples rubbing against the lace of the bra. You hear the rustle of fabric, and when you lift your head to look, San slaps your thigh so hard that you jerk at the impact, and your skin is instantly red.

"You better not move." He says it with a growl and puts his hand in front of your face. "Open your mouth for me." The tie that he has rolled up ends up in your mouth as soon as you open your lips—an effective gag. It's elegant, just like Professor Choi himself.

"Right now there are many other students here, obedient students who listen and respect their professors, unlike you, little whore." San whispers in your ear as he presses his chest against your back, his voice dropping several octaves. "We don't want anyone else to know what a whore you really are to me, do we?" His voice is becoming hoarse and sultry, and goosebumps creep across your skin.

A few moments pass in silence as you become more and more lost in the forbidden sensations of Professor Choi's hands as they slowly explore your body. Your eyes open as you feel San's warm breath on your thighs, his hands pulling down your panties, and the silk moving teasingly slowly against your overheated skin. A small stream of sticky liquid drips from your pussy as soon as your underwear is removed, and you hear San hiss at the sight of it.

"Look, you're dripping for me. Do you always feel like this during my classes?" San moans as he blows lightly on your wet folds, and the sensation makes your knees weaken. "Shhh, honey, I'll take care of that little cunt." Suddenly, the tip of his tongue plunges in and slides between your folds, drawing a strip from your little hole to your throbbing clitor. You gasp for air, but the sound is muffled by the gag. Your legs tremble, and Professor Choi slaps your thigh once more, this time stinging you even more on the skin.

"You will learn that lesson next time, but for now, you are going to take everything that I am giving you." You hear more of the rustling, and then, without warning, his cock is thrust into your tight, humid cunt. Your high-pitched moans are muffled by the gag, but San gives a contented, low purr as he pushes deeper and deeper into you until he's completely inside you. You can feel the fabric of his perfectly pressed shirt brushing against your naked skin as his balls slap against your buttocks.

He doesn't hesitate for a second before he pulls his cock out of you completely and immediately plunges back in. He puts his strong hands on your hips to pull you closer to him, your hands desperately gripping the edge of the table to steady yourself. The drawers of his desk rattle every time his dick slams into your pussy and you realise that, despite the gag in your mouth, anyone passing by at that moment would have no doubt as to what was going on inside the room. 

The sensation you are feeling now is so strong, almost overwhelming—the gag restricting your breathing and making your consciousness seem distant and hazy.

Blackened bruises were left on the tender flesh from Professor Choi's firm grip on your soft thighs. The almost painful friction of your breasts against the table and the lace of your bra made you whimper quietly from the rough stimulation, and of course San's cock—thick, warm, and veined—buried itself right into you, striking all the right places with each thrust. 

It was enough to make your toes curl up and your pussy squirt out of control. Your juices were sticky and glistening, sloshing around San's cock with every thrust he gave you. A wet, squelching sound filled the entire space of his office. It mixed with his hoarse moans and your pitiful whimpering, muffled by the thick fabric of his tie stuffed into your mouth.

"You won't come until I say so, you little bitch." San hisses, slapping both your buttocks, but not stopping his thrusting, continuing his cock deep and hard into your plump cunt. You whimper, but of course, not a sound comes out of you. Professor Choi leans over you and pulls his tie out of your mouth. "Say my name, pretty." You gasp for breath, the air burning your lungs, but you obediently follow his command.

"Professor Choi!" You squeal as his hand lands on the reddened skin of your ass once more.

"Say my name, Y/N." He growls, and the meaning of his command finally dawns on your mind, clouded as it is by lust.

"San!" As San pulls your shirt off your shoulders, along with your bra straps, and kisses your skin fiercely, the painful sound of pleasure turns into a prolonged moan.

"That's right, beautiful. Be obedient to me." He begins to fuck you more intensely, the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each hard thrust, and before you can make another high-pitched squeal, San pushes two long fingers into your mouth.

You can feel the drool running down your chin, and you can imagine how dirty you must look right now.

"Fuck, look at you, darling." San moans softly, as if she can read your mind. "You're such a good girl, a perfect student." My little obedient slut." You moan around his fingers, and he reminds you that you can't come without his permission, but you can hardly stand it any longer. There's already so much tension in your stomach, and you know you'll be coming on his thick, long cock any minute.

He lifts his other hand from your hip and presses down on your throat, further interrupting your breathing as he drives you mercilessly into the table and fucks you with all his might. You have no chance to hold on.

"Fuck!" You moan, your juices squirting out with every thrust of his cock, and you squirt around him, coming in profusion with his name on your lips. "San, oh my God!"

He pulls out of you, and you feel your cum dripping down your thighs as you struggle to breathe. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence pass before Professor Choi chuckles darkly. He caresses the sore skin on your bottom.

"I thought I told you not to cum, my little one. I'm afraid it's time for your punishment now." When he speaks, his voice is dangerously calm, full of sugary menace, and yet your hole tightens at what he says. "On your knees, my love. I'm going to fuck your pretty little slutty mouth." You moan and almost fall to your trembling knees as you hurry to do what he asks you to do.

You look at Professor Choi for the first time since he asked you to bend over his desk. Apart from the trousers and boxers that have been pulled down around his hips to expose his thick, throbbing cock that is now right in front of your face, he still looks good—almost damn perfect.

"Fuck, are you going to smear that pretty pink lip gloss all over my dick, darling?" San strokes your hair like you are a kitten. He looks amazing—hair slightly damp with sweat, eyes dark and lustful, biting his plump lower lip as he shoves his thick cock into your mouth until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag on him, instinctive tears leaking from your eyes as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you to swallow more and more of his cock as he goes deeper and deeper with each thrust, sloppily fucking your mouth. Your sticky lip gloss leaves a pink glow on his dick and is probably smeared all over your face, and you can see why this is such a turn-on for San.

Your eyes close as you concentrate on the relaxation of your throat and the rubbing of your tongue along the underside of his heavy cock.

"That's right, such an obedient girl." He moans, and you can feel San's cock pulsing in your mouth; he's about to come. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling at it as you hear his sharp breathing through his nose. You whimper around his cock, the extra stimulation making him growl with pleasure.

"You're going to swallow every drop of my sperm. Every damn bit of it. Just like the pretty little bitch that you are." San gasps to breathe. You suck in your cheeks, suck hard on the head of his cock, and he curses fiercely. He comes out all the way and cums into your open, waiting mouth, spraying thick cum all over your tongue and some on your cheeks until his orgasm subsides. You swallow obediently, and the warm, bittersweet cum rolls down the back of your bruised throat.

You look up at him through your lashes and stick out your tongue to show him what a good girl you have been for him, swallowing every last bit of it.

San leans over, grabs you by the chin, and pulls you into a dirty, wet kiss. You can't even imagine leaving his office looking like that; you look like a total mess. As soon as Professor Choi lets you go, he brushes the sweaty hair from his forehead, runs his hand through it, and hides his dick in the trousers.

"I hope you've learned how to behave yourself, right?"

"Yes, Professor Choi."

"All right, you can go now." You nod in what you hope is a convincing manner and turn to pick up your knickers from the floor.

He quickly picks them up for you and puts them in one of the drawers on his desk.

"You'll have to come back for another lesson, love, if you want them back.".

"I understand, Professor Choi." You mutter, pulling your skirt down over your hips to cover everything.

You walk out of his office, not missing the way San is smiling at you, admiring the sight of your swaying hips, and you close the door to his office behind you.

You don't have any idea how you will come into his class next Monday.

[justwinginglife]

what abt a soshiro and a babyshiro req ❓babyshiro is almost the carbon copy of soshiro but the kid always has that serious/brooding resting face that he always contrasts soshiro's own smiley face with,,,, n then sometimes babyshiro would wander off and watch the officers train but the officers always like shiver when they sense babyshiro's ominous aura observing them (the kid just has a permanent intimidating pout)

The Unstoppable Trio

When you first saw a picture of Soshiro as a kid, you were overwhelmed by just how adorable he was and you vowed to him that when you had his baby, they would look exactly like him. He just laughed and shook his head at you, saying you couldn't control what they looked like, and what if he wanted them to look more like you instead? But you stood firm in your statement- you wanted, no, you needed a little baby Soshiro running around your house, his little bowlcut flopping around as he played, his purple eyes peeking out from underneath his tired lids. 

And when you finally did have your first kid and he was the exact carbon copy of your husband, Soshiro then assumed you had some sort of otherworldly power to manifest your desires with such accuracy. You let him continue to think you were a god, it made things easier. It helped that your predictions were almost always correct as well. Soshiro had started taking your side on almost everything, after seeing firsthand how the universe just seemed to bend to your will, and when people disagreed with you, he’d quickly shut them down, whispering that you’d curse their family for generations if they didn’t shut up. He made you laugh. 

And your kid was just like him, always seeking out ways to make you laugh, to make you smile. If he said something silly and you giggled, he’d repeat it over and over to elicit the same reaction. If he did something cute and you fawned over him, he’d continue doing it, continue soaking up your adoration. 

Soshiro was both pouty and proud about it. He wanted your attention too, but he was impressed that someone so young had already figured out the secret to keeping you happy. He felt like if he ever passed too soon, his son would take good care of his mom. So he let him have your attention, he let him learn how best to love you.

In fact, you and your husband were the only people your son actively showered with love. He was worse at showing it to anyone else. He had such a severe case of resting bitch face around everybody else that rumors started going around that you, with your supernatural powers, had birthed a demon of some sort. Because if anyone were to have given him these genetics, it wouldn’t have been smiley Soshiro, it would’ve been you. You were downright intimidating sometimes, and it seemed your child had already perfected that same art of intimidation at such a young age. 

Now, every time you looked at your baby boy, he was the picture perfect angel, grinning just like his daddy did. But everyday your husband would bring you a new story about what your “perfect baby boy” did to scare the shit out of someone today, and it cracked Soshiro up to no end, he’d say “Our kiddo is a real comedian.”

Apparently Iharu had gotten called to the Captain’s office while he was mid bathroom break and he had zipped up his pants as quickly as he could, almost tripping over his own feet trying to exit the bathroom and your baby had blocked the door. Iharu scratched his head, perspiring a little at the sight of what looked like a scowl, before finally trying to appease the kid.

“Um. Hey buddy. Hey little man. Mind moving out of the way for me?”

He didn’t budge. He simply pointed to the sink. “Wash.” He demanded.

Iharu lifted an eyebrow and turned to peer at the sink. Wash? He looked back at the kid, a puzzled look on his face. Did your kid expect him to help him wash his hands? He didn’t have time for this, the Captain needed him. 

“Uh, sorry friend, maybe your dad can help you. Is he around?”

And then came the infamous eye roll that he had seen you do a million times whenever Soshiro teased you. Iharu thought your kid did the eye roll better than you, he was infinitely more terrified now.

 “You. No. Wash. You. Wash. Now.”

Iharu almost peed his pants again as he realized what the kid was saying. He forgot to wash his hands. The kid was blockading the door all because he forgot to clean up after himself. Iharu shivered as he washed his hands, imagining the consequences if he’d done something worse than forgetting to wash his hands. Your kid was pretty damn frightening.

And it turned out that Soshiro was just around the corner, clutching his sides, chuckling to himself. When he saw Iharu stumble out of the restroom looking like he’d seen a ghost, Soshiro simply said, “Bet you won’t forget to do that again,” before wiping tears from his eyes and then patting his kid on the head to reward him for good behavior. 

Even Kaguragi, big and strong as he was, fell victim to the mini-you. Your son had wandered into the training room where Kaguragi was lifting weights and for a minute, he just watched him. It was enough to get Kaguragi sweating, but if anyone asked, he could blame it on the workout. Then your kid strolled over to him and pointed to the weights, saying “More.”

So Kaguragi added another weight to his set, though unsure why he was listening to a child. He did a couple reps before your kid, again, repeated “More.” He wanted to tell your kid that he was being ridiculous, that he was already lifting way more than he usually did, but one look at his face froze him in place. He nodded his head compliantly. “More it is, little guy.” And he kept adding more and more, at your kid’s instruction, until he was about to collapse. Soshiro laughed so hard he had to run to the bathroom, where he ran into Iharu again, gave him shit about washing his hands again, and then relieved himself. 

The women were not immune to your son’s cold stare either, as proven by Shinomiya’s standoff with him. She had heard the rumors and she had scoffed at them, saying it was ridiculous for anyone to be afraid of a child and that they should be sorry to call themselves Defense Force officers. She had even marched around the base, looking for the child, so she could prove her grit. She found Soshiro holding his hand as they went for a walk and she knelt down to take a look at the little guy. 

“Aww, hi cutie! Are you taking a walk with your daddy? Everyone says you’re so scary, but you’re just a little sweetie pie, aren’t you?” 

His icy gaze pierced her soul as he spoke, “Where’s your daddy? No daddy?”

Shinomiya ran away crying. 

You did apologize to Shinomiya for the incident, setting down a large bouquet of her favorite flowers on her nightstand before leaving her to sulk in bed the rest of the day. And you were actually sorry for her, but unfortunately, you and Soshiro were also slightly amused. It was an entertaining notion that your son could take down even the great Shinomiya, and especially after she talked such a big game.

“What a tough guy you are, baby boy.” You kissed him on the head and he smiled the most darling smile. You returned home with him on your hip and Soshiro at your side. 

So now you were the unstoppable trio. And everyone knew it.

[magics-neptunes-things]

A Baby for Christmas

Hi guys ♥

This is a new style I'm trying so I hope you will like it. Please let me know what you think about it! It was very long to write so I'm really sorry if you still find mistakes in it.

Summary : How your baby comes in your life. (Worst summary ever)

Part 2 is here!

TW : Mention of miscarriage, pregnancy.

______________________________________________________________

December

When Leah looked you in the eye while you innocently drank your coke and said "I want a baby" the shock was such that you spit out your drink. I mean, of course you know perfectly well that the blonde has a desire to create a family, you both talked about it pretty early in your relationship. But you didn’t expect her to throw you this information while you are lying on your couch, dressed only in one of her t-shirts too big for you after activities not necessarily adapted to any public.

By the time you managed not to choke, the blonde had added "With you" which made you bow both eyebrows at the same time.

"Thank God" you answered, dropping your soda can on your coffee table.

Leah laughed and grabbed a tissue to wipe your chin, while taking again.

"I think we have everything we need to welcome a baby properly, don’t you think? We have a house, we both make a good living, and I know you’re the love of my life."

After confirming that she were yours (your two-year marriage could have been proof of that alone), you contacted clinics and took the first steps to the path of motherhood.

You had hoped that the test carried out a few days before Christmas would be positive, but that wasn't the case. Even if Leah hugged you tightly, saying you that's it's ok and you will try again, you can't drive away your melancholy.

The following days, you were eternally grateful for Leah’s efforts to change your mind, going out to different Christmas markets or offering different Christmas activities. She knows how much you love this holiday. And you have to admit that it worked and you probably fell in love with her again.

January

"This is bullshit" you complain suddenly, driving Leah's attention on you.

"Ok. But which one are you talking about?"

Leah's answer made you smile and rolling your eyes. You were walking in Hyde Park hand in hand, taking advantage of illuminations that have not yet been removed. In the early afternoon, many families still enjoy the ice rink and the various activities offered by Winter Wonderland. It's the last day of opening and many people seem to still want to enjoy it.

"Genetics"

All you have to do is take a look at Leah to see that she’s completely lost by what you’re saying. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t fully realize that Leah’s were thousands years away from yours.

"Care to explain?" asks the blonde, frowning.

You sighed and stop walking, without letting Leah's hand go.

"I want our baby to look like you. Not me."

Leah’s smile is tinged with a hint of sadness. It's obvious that your child will not be able to have your both features and you find this completely unfair. Aside from the fact that he would just be perfect, when you imagined having kids with Leah, you always imagined them looking like her.

"It’s sad and cute at the same time" Leah comments, releasing your hand to put her arm around your waist.

You pout and sigh softly, letting yourself go against her. You’re not a professional sportsman and Leah is going to make her big comeback on the football fields in two weeks. It made sense that you were carrying your child for both of us.

"There is a way to make it possible. To make him look like you" you add, once again crossing her questioning gaze.

"Babygirl I love you but I swear if you prepare to mention my brother in any way…"

"Ew no, what the hell?"

You frown with cringe while looking at her. She shrug and bite her lip before answering to you.

"Well one of the gynecologists we visited mentioned me the idea, but I’m glad to hear you don’t like it"

"I mean Jacob is cute because he looks like you, but not in this way"

Leah has a satisfied and superior smile that makes you laugh softly and you note in a corner of your head to ask her the name of the gynecologist to go and stick an one star in her Google reviews. But you’d rather go back to the present.

"So, what I was saying before you try Lannister-ed us (Leah rolls her eyes) is that I saw on the Internet that there is another possibility. I can take one of your eggs and take care of the pregnancy. But in the end it will look like you."

"Just to be sure" Leah says with her special accent "You want to take one egg from me (she put her index on her) to put it here (she put her index on your belly) and make the baby grow so he looks like me (she put herself again)?"

"Yes?"

"I like this idea a little to much" Leah smirks.

February

You’ve always hated needles since you were little. Vaccines have always been your hell on earth and despite all the persuasion of your mother, you have never been able to donate your blood. Fortunately, you have never had an operation, otherwise you sincerely don't know how you would have done. When you told Leah about this little detail, she thought you were exaggerating and laughed. But that was before you had to have an injection every night for the goods of your treatment and that possibly you could have a baby in a few months.

"Baby, it’s time!"

You look up from the television to see your wife leaning against a piece of furniture in your living room, a mischievous smile on her face and a syringe in her hands.

"Oh no" you whine

"Oh yes."

Without giving Leah time to react, you jump off the couch and run into the bedroom. That doesn’t stop you from hearing your wife’s voice sigh.

"Seriously?"

You’ve only been on this treatment for a few days, but every day is worse than the last. Leah is doing her best and she is particularly sweet and delicate, but your belly is covered with bruises and it has clearly become your most hated moment of the day.

"Y/N I swear to god!" makes Leah when she realise that you hide yourself in the cupboard. Again.

"Leave me alone you creep"

But Leah doesn’t listen to you and opens the closet door on the fly. You try to escape, but it was not counting Leah’s sporting reflexes that tackle you on your bed. Sitting on your legs, she knows you have no chance to escape.

"Baby please, can we talk about this?"

"Stop acting" Leah laughs softly as she lifts your shirt.

Knowing that you cannot escape it any longer, you close your eyes and take a great aspiration.

"Finished"

You open your eyes to see the satisfied face of Leah, who in the meantime put the needle on her bedside table.

"I have to admit you’re getting better and better at it" you whisper reluctantly.

In truth, you didn’t even feel anything. But you quickly spot the glow that shines in Leah’s eyes when she looks at you.

"I must admit that I particularly like this position" she whispers as she leans over you, putting her lips on yours.

March

"I think I’ll throw up" you nervously say.

"Actually, I think you were supposed to pee on it" your wife objects with sarcasm.

Despite yourself you let go of a nervous little laugh, rising from the edge of the bathtub on which you had settled. Today is the famous day of the pregnancy test and you are so stressed that you wonder if you will fall out, vomit or simply end up rolled into a ball on the floor of your bathroom.

"5 minutes" Leah grumbles after a few seconds, looking at the timer on her phone. "Who makes these tests?"

"Certainly people who love neither women nor children"

It’s Leah’s turn to giggle a little, but the tension is still there. To pass the time, you sing from memory Good Caroline in your head several times, until the timer rings in the room. Leah jumps so much that she drops her phone on the ground.

You exchange a look and you talk first.

"You’re watching. I don’t have the courage."

Leah sighs softly but gets up from the toilet bowl, nervously approaching the two tests you've done. You preferred to be sure of the result so as not to have false hopes, just in case. With trembling hands, Leah takes a deep breath before taking both tests in her hands. Her nervous face becomes unreadable and you will certainly die of stress in a few seconds.

"So what? Lee?"

After a few seconds, Leah puts her attention back on you, her gaze still unfathomable.

"My Love, I swear…" you begin, ready to threaten her if she remains silent one more second.

"Positive."

"What?"

She seems so incredulous that you think you misunderstood. But a big smile appears on her face and she jumps into your arms.

"Positive! We will be Parents!"

April

Lying in your bed, Leah is scrolling on her phone while you have opted for a more traditional way of doing things, using a book. You’ve been thinking about a name for a few weeks without really finding your happiness. Despite the fact that you still go the time, you fear that you arrive at the birth before making a choice. Not wanting to know if the baby is a girl or a boy complicates your task, but it's time to assume this choice until the end.

"What do you think of Alistair?" you ask while raising the nose of your book.

"Of course, if you want him to be able to join the royal family later, it will be perfect" mocks Leah and you roll your eyes.

"I know!" exclaims your blonde seconds later with a victorious smile. "William!"

"William Williamson? Really?"

"Well, yes!"

Your sarcastic tone and arched eyebrow seem to amuse Leah more than reason since she laughs, proud of her discovery. And seeing her happy face, you can’t help but smile softly.

"Harry?" you suggest, a few minutes later.

"No."

Leah’s clear and almost cold answer surprises you and you raise your nose from your book to look at her. Her eyebrows are raised and you don’t understand why. Does she have a hatred you didn’t know about Harry Potter?

"Why?"

"Because Harry Kane and there's no fucking way that my son is named after a Tottenham player."

Leah threatens you with her finger and you hold back with a smile, realizing that the subject is burning for your wife.

"Oh man…" you whisper softly as you resume your reading.

Some time passes and the silence settles, interrupted only by the rain that strikes against the windows of your house. You take advantage of this silence to snuggle up against Leah and you smile as you feel her cheek pressed against the top of your skull.

"Magnus?" you suggest after a few minutes.

Leah raises her head and thinks a few seconds before nodding.

"I like it. You can add it to the list."

With a satisfied smile, you add Magnus to Cameron’s suite after taking the time to trace William. The innocent look that Leah takes when you look at her while doing it amuses you and you rest your pen.

"We’re only looking for a boy’s name, but what if it’s a girl?"

Looking up at you, Leah puts her phone on her thigh and you see her hesitant to speak again. The way she sways slightly on the mattress makes you think about what she does when she stands up and has to tell you something. Fortunately, this was never a serious confession.

"Well… there’s a name I like, since I was a teenager"

"Okay?"

"I’m afraid you don’t like her"

You smile softly, passing your legs over hers. Your curiosity is driven by the fact that Leah doesn’t seem to want to tell you. Taking her hand in yours, you intertwine your fingers and look into her eyes.

"Come on Leah, just tell me" you whines.

"Charlie?"

"Charlie Williamson" you try the first and last name several times on your tong, under the inquisitive eye of Leah, before giving her a big smile. "I really like it."

May

"I'm scared" you mumble against Leah's neck, where you're hiding your face.

You both were in the gynaecologist’s office that follows you during your pregnancy. This is the first ultrasound you will have for your baby. After taking a blood test after a month of pregnancy and confirming that you were pregnant, you considered it unnecessary to specify that you did a test almost every other day. This all sounds almost too good to be true. You feel like something terrible is going to happen to you.

"I’m sure it’s going to be all right" Leah replies with her deep, calm voice, kissing the top of your head.

In truth, she is at least as stressed as you and doesn't pay any attention to the magazine she's reading. She is also the first to get up when you are called, even if she gently reaches out to you to help you do the same.

The gynecologist asks you about your state of health, but you rather want to shake her so that she hurries to put you on the observation table. You want, need, to know that everything is fine.

After a few minutes it is finally the case and you find yourself nervously attached to Leah’s hand.

"We may not hear the heartbeat well, since the fetus is still small" it informs you, which does not help your stress to decrease.

You answer nothing, focused on the images that scroll on the screen in front of you. You look at Leah when she explains to both of you where the baby is, which you would have been unable to see on your own. These white spots are inexplicable to you. But your wife’s wet eyes are enough to make you smile.

"Come on, let’s try to listen to his heart now."

You swallow and close your eyes, expecting to hear a very slight sound after the doctor’s explanations. But it’s actually a fast and loud drumming that sounds in the room, making you quickly open your eyes. The sensations you feel when hearing this melody are indescribable and you only realize that you are crying when Leah gently wipes your tears with her thumb.

"It looks like this baby is in great shape. Congratulations. I’ll let you get dressed and we’ll make an appointment for the next check."

You nod and can’t get your eyes off the frozen screen where the proof is that this baby really exists.

"We’re gonna be parents."

Leah’s sentence, the same one she uttered when discovering the positive tests, seems more like an achievement this time. But you understand her feeling. It seems to be much more real.

"You’re not gonna knock out, are you?"

The look lost in Leah’s gaze becomes clear again when it lands on you and you address her a mocking smile.

"Of course not. Kiss me rather than tell nonsense."

Smiling again, you stand up and put your arms around her neck to kiss her tenderly. You let go of her when she kisses your cheek and neck, enjoying the moment. You’re going to be parents. And most importantly, your baby is healthy.

June

The good weather being back, it's with a little more motivation that you go to Leah's football matches. Even if you haven’t missed one in or around London, not having to cover yourself with layers of clothing is nice. Summer is coming and the end of the season too. Arsenal is pretty well placed in the standings, but it's a FA Cup's match that is being played today. And not just any since it’s the final and Arsenal is playing against Chelsea.

You find yourself in the ranks of families and friends, surrounded by the Williamsons and other family members of different players. The friends are also present since Ella Toone is also part of the ranks, just like Mary Earps and other international players that you have already met several times thanks to Leah.

You're wearing a jersey with Williamson print on your back, Leah's Arsenal cap and you bought yourself a scarf at the booth, which you put on your shoulders. The proud look your wife gave you when she saw you was worth it.

The match is tight and it's with a blank score that the half is whistled. Leah looks for you and addresses you a smirk before entering the tunnel to return to the changing rooms, which you answer obviously.

"Would you like something to drink, darling?" asks your mother-in-law affectionately and you think for a few moments.

Quench your thirst and know that you will run to the toilet a few minutes later and definitely miss part of the game? Or wait for a few more minutes? You end up opting for the second option and given the following of events, you are quite right. If you’d missed that moment, you’d probably have found yourself with a divorce paper under your nose.

60th minute, a corner for Arsenal is played right in the box. The ball is taken from the head by Alessia but ends on the crossbar. However, it’s not over since Lia managed to intercept it and pass it back to Leah who sends a cannon ball to the bottom of the nets.

You expected Leah to rush to her teammates to celebrate, but instead you see her positioning her arms as if she was carrying an imaginary baby and she started rocking it. There’s a big smile on your face when you realize what she’s doing. You haven’t made your pregnancy public yet, fearing you’ll have to announce bad news if things go wrong. It must also be said that the fact that you are not famous and that your belly grew during the winter allowed you not to have too much effort to put in place for this.

Playful smiles on their faces, Leah’s teammates finally reach her height to congratulate her for this goal. These hugs finished, Leah looks for you again among the crowd and you send her a kiss with your hand.

Thirty minutes later, the referee’s whistle rang through the stadium, sealing Arsenal’s victory. You find yourself jumping on the spot with excitement too, cuddling all the people you can reach. You know how important this game was for Leah, who wants to get back to her old level as soon as possible.

It’s only after the cup has been lifted by the whole team that Leah makes her way to you, but you’re happy to see her enjoying these moments with her friends. You smile when you see her running towards you and get as close as possible to the edge of the field. The height of the bleachers doesn't seem to bother Leah who climbs it simply to get to your height.

"I’m so proud of you, Leah" you smile as you stretch out your arms at her.

A big smile on her face, Leah hugs you with pleasure, putting a tender kiss on your lips.

"Did you see my goal?"

"Was it you? I could have sworn it was Cloé who scored that fantastic goal"

Leah snorts and you smirk at her, taking her face in your both hands.

"Have you seen my celebration too?"

"I did Baby. You're such a dork" you smile when Leah laughs and kiss her once again, forgetting the world around you, making you believing that you are all alone.

But you weren't.

"Hum. Mind if I hug my sister, too?"

September

Leah’s flirtatious nature is known in the football world and it never changed when you guys got together. You know perfectly well that there is nothing behind, you saw the way she flirted "for real" when she became interested in you. However, as you often tell her, it's not necessarily as easy to understand for the person in front of her. Because of her sexual orientation, they are very often girls.

But then again, you never gave her a fit of jealousy because she never exceeded the limits you set and because she always proved to you that you could have a blind and total trust in her. Apart from her sharp, chaotic, unpredictable and sometimes stubborn character, Leah knows how to be affectionate, attentive, romantic and tender. You think some people won’t believe you, but you don’t care. That part of Leah is only for you and that’s perfect.

But tonight, you feel your hormones bubbling. Leah asked you to join her in the karaoke bar she used to go to with her teammates. Tonight there’s Alessia, Lia, Alex, Katie and Caitlin. After breaking everyone’s ears on an Adele song, Katie was forced to sit down for the end of the evening and sulks in her corner. Alessia and Leah went back for drinks while Alex started a song with Caitlin.

Lia is installed at your side, but you must admit that you're paying any attention to your discussion. Your interest is entirely focused on the waitress who flirts without the slightest embarrassment with your wife.

"You’re not listening to me at all" Lia laughs softly, making you finally turn your head in her direction.

"No, I’m sorry."

You make a grimace but she addresses you a smile, apparently not in the least vindictive. You like the Swiss girl, you know she had a little fling with Leah before you met, but her behavior towards you has always been impeccable. You can’t tell if feelings are completely erased from her side, but she’s a loyal friend to Leah and who would you blame for someone having stifled feelings for the perfect woman that is Leah?

Speaking of the blonde, you shift your attention to her to see that she is still in full discussion with the waitress. Even Alessia seems to find time long, her gaze navigates between Leah and the table. Noticing that you observe the scene with coldness, she taps on Leah’s shoulder with a discreet nod in your direction.

Your eyes cross the baby blue of Leah who seems to realize the situation immediately. So she easily emerges from the grip of the waitress who had literally grabbed her arm to come back to you.

"A little song Less?" quickly offers Lia when she feels the tension emanating from your body.

Alessia vaguely answers a "Yes please" letting her desire to flee the possible dispute that point the tip of her nose, which would surely have amused you another day.

"You okay Babe?" asks Leah, putting a hand on your leg.

"Don’t Babe me, Leah." You said coldly with an eyebrow arched.

"Come on, Baby, it was nothing. We were just talking."

"Normal people don’t talk to others by sticking their breasts under their noses."

Leah rolls her eyes and you push her hand back from your leg, but the blonde does not let go and passes the same hand around your shoulders to squeeze you against her. You try to escape, but your big belly is holding you back. Now the baby’s on Leah’s side.

"Leah" you try to push her away despite the gust of kisses she puts all over your face.

"Leah" you repeat once again, feeling your anger wither.

"I love it when you say my name" your wife whispers mischievously in your ear.

"Stop it. It’s not funny"

Despite this, Leah has a smile on her face when she resumes speaking, your chin delicately trapped between her thumb and index finger.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it bothered you that much. You know I only see you. It doesn’t bother you so much usually, what changes this time?"

You shrug your shoulders in perfect bad faith. You know why, but you’re not sure you want to talk about it. When it goes like this before, you have a nice time sticking to Leah and making out with her to make your rivals understand that she's yours.

"Dunno" you mumble before you finish your soda.

"You’re lying" Leah whispers in your ear, laying a kiss on the corner of your jaw.

"What do you want me to say?" you sigh softly "she is younger, prettier and she can certainly offer free drinks to whoever she wants."

The end of your sentence was mostly meant to distract Leah from the rest, but it obviously didn’t work. The blonde straightens a little, frowning.

"No one is prettier than you"

"Oh please, Leah, I appreciate your support but I have already gained more than ten kilos. Be realistic. I am. And I don’t like it when women prettier than me flirt with my wife."

But Leah doesn't seem to hear it from this ear since your face always between her fingers is putting closer to hers. Her eyebrows are frowned, much more than usual.

"Nobody’s prettier than you. I’m serious."

You have trouble supporting the intensity of her gaze and you find yourself blushing like you did when she complimented you at the beginning of your relationship. The blonde finally releases your face, but only to tighten you against her, with two arms this time.

"You are my wife. No one is prettier than you."

October

In half a sleep, Leah turns around in your bed to get on her stomach, expecting to be able to curl up against you. Except that it's only the void that receives her, making her frown. Still without opening her eyes, she taps the mattress in search of your body, without success. It's only then that she opens her eyes and rises slightly on the mattress to note your absence at her side.

"Y/N?"

When the silence answers her, Leah ends up getting up and looking for you. She walks through the different rooms of the house starting with the bathroom and ending with your garden, without success. Gradually, the blonde feels panic invading her, especially when she realizes that your pajamas are wisely folded on a chair in your room and that you left with her purse but without your phone or your car.

It's with trembling hands and fingers that your wife grabs her phone to call the first number that comes to her mind in an emergency.

"What’s up Baba?" makes the sleepy voice of Amanda Williamson, awakened at 3am by her daughter.

"Y/N is missing."

********

When you return home, you are surprised to see that an additional car is in your driveway, apparently parked in a hurry. You don’t understand why your mother-in-law’s car is here, or why all the lights in the house are on.

So it’s puzzling that you go to the door, your food bag in your hand. People had warned you that you would have strange cravings, but you didn’t expect to want cinnamon rolls and Beef Jerky in the middle of the night. Unable to go back to sleep and not having it at home, you simply decided to go to the supermarket open 24/24 in your neighborhood to do some shopping.

If you were perplexed when you arrived at home, you have the impression that question marks grow on your head when you pass the front door. Leah is sitting on the couch with her head in her hands and your stepmother in a bathrobe over her nightgown on the phone with someone. Hearing the front door, Leah abruptly raises her head and before you realize it you find yourself pressed against her with blond hair obstructing your vision.

"Okay, she’s here. Yes … thank you very much" you hear Amanda saying before she hangs up.

"Where the hell were you? Are you okay? What happened?"

Leah releases you a little and holds you at arm’s length, letting her gaze slide over every inch of your body to check that you have no wound anywhere.

"I’m fine! I - I was hungry so I went to buy food"

"At 3 in the morning?!" Leah half-scream

"Yes?"

"Without taking your phone?"

"I forgot it."

"For God’s sake, have you lost your mind?! If anything had happened to you, what would you have done? We were calling the cops and -"

"Leah."

Amanda’s voice sounds and you realize at this moment that she has taken a few steps to get closer to you both. Laying a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, she draws her attention with her calm, smoothing voice. It seems to work since Leah turns directly in her direction.

"She’s fine. You were afraid, but everything’s fine now"

The inspiration that Leah takes to calm down is audible throughout the room and you take advantage of this moment of calm to say in a small voice

"I'm so sorry"

The blue eyes of the footballer refer to you and the embrace that you exchange this time is more made to comfort her for once. Over her shoulder, you give your mother-in-law an apology smile.

"Sorry for pulling you out of bed in the middle of the night"

"No worries. But I’m going back now."

She winks at you and kisses you both before leaving the house. Leah is still in your arms and you gently stroke her back with your fingertips, following her spine. Her face is hidden in your neck and you kiss her hair before you speak again.

"Shall we go back to bed too?"

Leah answers you with a grunt and grabs your hand to train you in your bedroom, taking care to turn off the lights of the house in passing.

"Don’t ever do that to me again" Leah mutters and clings to you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear again.

"I’m sorry" you say again. "I know how tired you are with the games and the training. I just wanted to let you rest."

"I don’t care if I’m tired. If you need anything and I sleep, you wake me up. If anything happens to you and I’m gone, you call me. I won’t accept any excuses."

"At your command, Captain" you smile tenderly before kissing her.

"I’m not kidding, Williamson."

"I know, Williamson."

November

"Y/N Y/S/N Williamson, will you please come down that ladder, right now?"

Hearing the voice both panicked and commanding of your wife, you smile and roll your eyes. Leah’s over-protective behavior is growing day by day and you will surely not be allowed to lift any pencil soon.

"Leah, I’m not risking anything" you say, turning in her direction.

"No! Don't move! You will fall!"

Letting the panic prevail, Leah rushes towards you, throwing her football bag and her boots to makes you come down the ladder by carrying you in her arms like a bride. Smiling, you put your arms around her neck and put your lips on hers.

"You’re so strong" you coo tenderly before deposing other kisses along her jaw and into her neck.

You feel her shiver, so you continue your kisses. Leah was away all the morning and the beginning of the afternoon for training and you were getting bored. So you decided to install the Christmas decoration, going up the boxes from the cellar and setting up your Christmas tree. Without decorating it, knowing that Leah would do it with you. You also had time to decorate the windows with stickers and fake snow and you were finishing installing the lights above your windows.

"Oh no, I know exactly what you’re doing" laughs Leah as you, gently resting you on the floor.

"What?" you ask maliciously.

"You’re trying to distract me from your foolishness"

"I will only speak in the presence of my lawyer"

Leah laughs and you can’t help but smile when you hear your favorite sound. Putting yourself on tiptoe, you deposit a new kiss on her lips to which the blonde responds without hesitation.

"How is my baby?"

Her hand gently settles on your belly and you smile again feeling her do.

"He’s in great shape, he’s been kicking me all day"

"Believe me, there is a future talented footballer in there"

"A striker most certainly" you smirk

"No way. He's going to be a defender"

"Or a keeper"

"Who in the world would want to be a goalkeeper, except Mary’s children?"

You know that Leah is joking and that she will be happy no matter what path your child chooses. But if he could enjoy football and become an Arsenal fan, it would probably be a big plus for her. As if to confirm this words, you feel the baby give a new kick, exactly where Leah’s hand is.

"Well hello to you too Buba" Leah says tenderly before bending over to lay a kiss on your belly.

"How was training baby?" You ask, picking up the stuff Leah threw on the floor a few minutes ago.

"Leave it, I’ll take care of it" intervenes the blonde, grabbing you by the hand. "It was ok, but training in the cold begins to become painful"

You smile at her and decide to take her with you in the kitchen.

"How about a nice hot chocolate?"

"I think it’s the best idea of your day. Way above climbing a ladder and being eight months pregnant."

December

Leah is in the training room, surrounded by her teammates when her phone starts ringing. By habit, in case you have an emergency, she leaves it under general so you can contact her anytime. She gave you a special ring, allowing her to recognize your calls compared to others.

"Lee, phone" shouts Alessia across the room.

"Can you look who’s calling me please?"

The blonde does it willingly, rummaging through spare clothes and cereal boxes.

"It's your mother."

Leah sighs and walks across the room to grab her phone and hang up. However, Leah barely has time to rest it that it starts ringing again, making Leah frown.

"She knows I’m training, why is she insisting like that?"

The question is said aloud, but it could just as well be pronounced in his head. However, this would not have allowed Katie to respond.

"Maybe an emergency?"

"Didn’t you tell me Y/N was with her this morning?" intervenes Lia.

The captain’s face breaks down a little and she quickly picks up at this welcome reminder of her friend.

"Mom?"

"Baba don’t freak out, but we’re at the hospital. Y/N’s water just broke."

"I’m… I’m coming"

Just after hanging up, panic seizes Leah who gathers her belongings by embarking half of those belonging to Viv in passing. Miraculously her teammates manage to understand what she explains to them and Lia intervenes quickly, with all the calm and sweetness that characterizes her.

"I’m driving you, there's no way you’re driving in this state."

After refusing that the entire team accompanies them ("It’s a birth, not a summer camp"), it's finally with Alessia and Katie that Lia accompanies Leah to the right hospital. It's finally a good thing that the Swiss woman decided to accompany Leah, she would surely have managed to go to the wrong maternity.

"Leah breathe" Katie says from the back seat.

"Easy to say! If things go wrong? In addition, the baby is early! What if he doesn't survive this?"

"Wasn't the expected delivery date the December 12?" asks Lia, bowing her eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Leah, we’re the 7" Alessia gently intervened.

"So what?"

"I swear to God that if this child inherits your drama rate, I’ll get him enrolled in drama classes" says Katie, sighing at length.

In the room you’re in, time seems long without Leah. Amanda keeps you company until your wife gets here, but between the pain and the stress, you don’t look too good.

"You’re doing very well darling" your mother-in-law gently makes you, to whom you address a smile-grimace.

Fortunately, a few minutes later Leah finally makes her appearance, dressed in a sky blue outfit that you saw a thousand times in Grey’s Anatomy. The relief is so great when you see her come that tears rise to your eyes. Focused on Leah, you don’t even realize that Amanda is taking the powder.

"My Love" whispers Leah as she lays a kiss on your forehead.

Leah tenderly caresses your face while listening to the nurse’s information and you relax as much as possible. You didn’t hesitate for a second when you were asked if you wanted peridulral. You willingly let other women be brave, but you, no thanks.

The hours pass, both slow and fast. Leah does her best to relieve, relax or change your mind. She’s perfect, once again.

It's only around 2am that your baby’s cry finally sounds in the delivery room, after long hours of labor. You can’t tell which of the three of you cried the most when your little miracle is lying on your chest, Leah sitting next to you in bed.

A little blonde hair down, quickly covered with a hat, and baby blue piercing eyes as light as Leah's are the first features you discover in your perfect baby. Just like you hopped.

"So, what will you call this little angel?" the nurse ask you.

"Charlie. Her name is Charlie" Leah mumble, a big smile on her face. "Charlie Amanda Williamson."

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: Arcane

Verse: Work-Life Balance

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor

Tags: omegaverse, future-mpreg

Still not a prompt fill (I will start on them I swear!) but I’ve been meaning to write Viktor deciding he wants to have a baby with Jayce because of scientific curiosity for a while now. So I am glad this is written.

And yes I did have an image of them both open while I was writing this to compare which features I think Viktor would prefer from which one of them.

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

Viktor doesn’t often get to watch Jayce work.

There is nearly always something else that can be done while Jayce creates a new casing or frame-part. Either wiring to be soldiered or a formula to continue working through. So much work to be done and never enough hours in the day.

Not this time. They had hit a point where nothing further could be done until Jayce finished forging the guard that would separate the Hextech core from the external mechanisms. So Viktor had joined him at the Talis’ Forge despite having complete faith in Jayce’s ability to do it right.

Supervising just feels more productive than merely waiting. And Viktor does enjoy watching his partner work on the rare opportunities he can allow himself to.

He will not deny that Jayce is impressive to watch when he is at work.

His shirt has been abandoned from the heat giving Viktor full view of the muscles of his partner’s broad shoulders shining from sweat and golden from the light of the furnace. The alpha’s strength on full display with each hammer fall. The profile of his face defined by the shadows cast by his features.

From the moment he met him Viktor knew Jayce was impressive, both in body and mind.

The physical part was impossible for anyone to miss. Jayce was stunning to look at, the very definition of an ideal alpha. Strong and fit but not hulking. Broad shoulders that taper into a defined waist and warm arms that it is so very easy to imagine being carried in. He is fit and healthy and seems to naturally draw the eyes of all around him.

But it was Jayce’s mind that had actually made Viktor interested in him. The ideas in his notes were genius even if Viktor had seen where they could be improved. Jayce hadn’t disappointed after they started working together. His intelligence may not be the same as Viktor’s, but the ease he could conceive and create the exact tool to fix the problem before them was inspired. Working with him was working with Viktor’s true intellectual equal.

Viktor can hardly blame the fans that fawn over his partner when Jayce makes public appearances. Anyone would want Jayce as a mate. His genetics alone ample reason before adding in his gentle kindness and sweet awkwardness.

All of it traits his hypothetical children could inherit.

Although if Viktor seriously considers the possibility of Jayce and children, then, while Jayce has many traits that would be desirable to see passed down, he is not perfect.

While Jayce’s hands are very skilled at what they do they lack the fineness and dexterity of Viktor’s own. So a child would do well to inherit from Viktor instead in that regard.

Even with his strong square jaw Jayce’s brow and eyebrows always seem to overpower his face. It would be good for a child to have one more like Viktor’s – less prominent and with a lower hairline to soften it.

While Viktor appreciates Jayce’s intelligence far more than the average person he will admit his bias in preferring that his own would be passed onto any child of theirs.

Then there are the things that matter less which way they go. Jayce’s skin may seem to glow under the golden light of his forge or the sun but Viktor’s hardly blemishes apart from a mole here or there. They both have good eyesight and neither possess a particularly outstanding eye colour. The texture of both their hairs is equal in strengths even if different.

Together they could make a glorious child.

Viktor would be remiss not to consider how difficult a pregnancy would be for him before letting his mind follow the thought any further. His body is deteriorating, he knows, and the weight of a baby on his spine would do it no favors.

Hextech hadn’t been easy either though. And it had been worth all the effort and pain and risk it took to create.

He would need only do it once to test his hypothesis.

“What are you thinking about Vik?” Jayce asks, taking off the wielding goggles as he turns around. The rest of his gear already put aside.

“I think I want a baby.”

Jayce stumbles, knocking into the table next to him. Catching himself to lean against it. The muscles in his arm bulging from the force he’s pushing down on it with.

“What?” he asks, free hand gesturing emptily. “Like generally or-“

“No, with you.” Viktor cannot say he ever thought about having a child before. His work always far too important. The idea of having one with someone else is not at all appealing. But with Jayce-

They created Hextech together as partners. The kind of child they could make together actually feels exciting in the way the early days of their partnership did. An unexplored potential that Vitktor wants to see reached.

“Right,” Jayce says, glancing at Viktor then up at the ceiling and then the floor in rapid succession. His hand comes to scratch behind his ear as he pushing himself off the table to stand fully upright. “Like now?”

“Well conception rarely is successful on the first try,” Viktor says, reaching for his cane as he stands up and walks over to Jayce. More to pace as he explains the process than anything. “And a pregnancy takes 40 weeks if it goes to full-term. So in about a year. If we start trying now.”

It is better they do it sooner than later if they are going to. How long before the deterioration of Viktor’s body makes him unable to carry a pregnancy an unknown.

“You’re serious,” Jayce says with a weak laugh.

“Of course. I would not joke about something like that.” It would be cruel to. “So do you want to or not?”

“Yes! I mean, if you want. Are you sure? It’s- You’ll- Us- A baby-“ Jayce stutters adorably. Viktor hopes their child inherits Jayce’s earnestness. “Do you want to start trying now?”

Viktor gives a hum of contemplation.

“We can install that first,” he decides, pointing to the guard that should be nearly done cooling. “But tonight, yes. If that works for you.”

“I don’t have any other plans,” Jayce jokes awkwardly and Viktor notes Jayce’s smile as another thing he hopes they inherit.

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

n. interlude: benedict

it was not love at first sight, of course. when he first met her, she was just a child—an extremely annoying one at that.

lady bridgerton invited the silvas for dinner, bringing their youngest for the first time since they arrived in the square a year ago. they all settled on the dining room, the girl sitting far away with francesca on her right. the youngest sat with each other. everyone engaged in a lively conversation while they were eating. the girl and francesca were sharing their interests when the second eldest son arrived—quite late for dinner.

he sat on the left of the youngest silva as it is the only free chair. a servant placed his utensils as he took his own share of food. benedict's spoon was halfway to his mouth when he noticed the five-year-old beside him staring intently.

"what?" he asked with cross eyebrows, eating the spoonful at once.

she monotonously said, "i do not like vegetables."

the bridgerton son chuckled, failing to see the connection, "and?"

"take it from my plate." she pushed her plate to his way discreetly.

"what do you mean?"

"fast before mother sees." her voice hurried as she saw her mother turning her way. she gave a wide smile before lady silva turned back to her conversation with lady bridgerton.

"now, hold on—"

benedict was not able to continue whatever he was going to say when the girl already placed the vegetables from her plate to his swiftly. as she took a look at his plate, she turned to him again.

"do you like chicken?" he only nodded at that, still processing the doubled number of vegetables on his plate.

"do you eat its meat?" she continued to push.

he turned to her with a blank look, "yes, why?"

"let us trade then. i only eat the crisp of the skin." she pushed her plate to his once again, offering the fried drumstick with no skin.

his pitch went high as he grimaced by the already eaten food of the girl, "no, i also like the skin."

"please?" she tried to pout as she always did with her parents and find it working all the time.

"no."

seeing as it did not work, her voice went monotone again, "let us exchange chicken."

he chuckled at her unrelenting desire to swap food, placing his spoon down to free his palms. he placed his hand between them in a greeting gesture, "i am benedict."

"okay, benedict. let us exchange please."

benedict could do nothing but laugh wholeheartedly, both completely oblivious on the looks that were sent their way as he gave her his dish.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the bridgertons are visiting the silvas this time, the families growing closer immediately in two years.

the young silva neared benedict after seeing him at a distant place from the rest, trying to sketch the landscape as well as the family. she sat beside him, peeking on the pad curiously.

"you draw?" he nodded simply, eyes raising to see the picture and down to his pad again.

"artsy," she commented with a pout, clicking her tongue in envy, "i cannot."

he turned to her in jest, snickering as he teased, "you do not have even a bone of artistry in you."

"bones do not dictate your traits and talents. it is the genetics." she looked at him like he is an idiot, which was only right considering his jest.

"how do you even know that?"

"i read books."

"shocking." he mocked, exaggerating his reaction.

she narrowed her eyes at him in irritation, "i am six. everyone can read by then."

"you are not three?" he placed his pad and pen down, mouth quite ajar in genuine shock this time. alright, three is perhaps an overstatement, but he really thought she was younger—the height did not help.

the young silva gritted her teeth at his surprised look which she mistook as mockery once again, "damn you."

as the words fell from her mouth, he instantly turned to her mother, "lady silva!"

she scrambled to him, putting her hands on top of his mouth in panic as her mother turned to them, "nothing, mama!"

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

another fine day in the bridgerton's household when the youngest silva ran, once again, in panic to the first person she saw—which in this case is the second eldest daughter.

"eloise, you are ben's favorite sibling, right?" she asked, breathing heavily from all the running.

"i mean," the girl smiled at the question as she rolled her eyes to shrug it off, "they are all fond of me."

"great!" the eight-year-old exclaimed with a clap, going behind the girl and taking her blanket from the picnic set up she had, "hide me."

"what? why—" her question was muted when a louder voice bellowed close to them.

"loraine! you little—have you seen her, eloise?" he inquired with irritation, taking notice of the way his sister smiled awkwardly before answering.

"...no?"

"okay." he nodded with strange calmness, inhaling deeply. it did not help at all that the girl's foot was poking out of the blanket, "if you see her, tell her to be a lady enough and face me."

"what did she do?" eloise asked curiously as to what would warrant her brother's anger.

"she broke my pens!"

"it was an accident!"

raine took off the blanket from herself and stood as she clarified her side of the story. benedict's irritation resurfaced at the sight of the silva.

"four pens?!"

"i thought they were anthony's!

he scoffed at the thought of anthony touching a pen other than for his official papers, "my brother does not lift a pen. he only has one!"

she got off of eloise's picnic set up and neared the man, "how am i supposed to know that?! he is not the one i like!"

"oh, do not use what your father said." he rolled his eyes, remembering armand snitching his own daughter to him.

"it was true!" raine pouted in annoyance at him not taking it seriously, "i like you, okay? i apologise i broke your pens. i will buy some for you."

she ammended with crossed arms and brows. benedict looked at her for a moment, replying before turning to go back inside the house, "good."

she turned away herself, settling to stay with whatever eloise was doing and chatted with her, not noticing the time passed as the moon rised.

just a day later, loraine arrived at their home once again, poking the man who was sketching with anthony's only pen, "go change, let us buy your pens."

"ask your servants to buy it." he replied with indifference, focusing on his pad.

"let us just go," the girl insisted, lightly grabbing a pinch of his clothing, "you know what to pick."

benedict turned to her with narrowed eyes, "you are really taking what your father said seriously?"

"it is serious." she stressed. his eyes glistening turned from suspicion to curiosity of her agenda, placing the pen down again.

"are you asking me to promenade with you?"

her brows raised at the mention of the unknown word, "what does that mean?"

the bridgerton's lips morphed into a smile, laughing at nothing in particular but her cluelessness apparently. he put down his legs from the chair's armrest, standing up as he ruffled her hair with excitement.

"wait for me."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the now fourteen-year-old lady has been spending an awful lot of time with the viscount bridgerton. the death of her older brother changed their dynamics. it was probably because she no longer has the freedom of being a second born. and although she was a girl, the weight of the family now rests on her shoulders after her father.

benedict did not like this change one bit.

while she was still annoying and exciting him at the same time to no end, she was maturing in an insane rate. although he would not say it out loud, he knew he was craving for her presence.

and so, he neared the two who were sitting peacefully and talking about random things in the garden. they turned to his sudden arrival as he wasted no time to offer.

"there is a pleasure garden opening. let us go."

raine's lips formed a smile at the invitation, the man beside her snickering, "just call it a fair. she is getting ideas in her head."

"i am not!" she strongly disagreed, slapping anthony's arm at his implications.

at her reply, benedict turned to her curiously as she got what his brother meant, "how do you even know such things?"

she rolled her eyes as if the answer was evident, "i am spending my days with three rakes. what did you expect for me to learn?"

he shook his head dismissively at that, returning his proposition, "are you coming or not?"

"yes!" she replied with all excitement, standing up in an instant as she linked her arms with his.

the eldest raised his head to them with jest, "does the invitation extend to me?"

the pair turned to him at once, yelling in chorus, "no!"

anthony laughed at the two before they bid their farewells, reminding the young silva of her assignments to review for the role of a viscountess. that was when benedict realised something about the two of them and he felt like an idiot.

his brother and loraine were not in love with each other, of course, but there was love—and benedict could not be more thankful that they have each other for certain things in life that only the two of them can understand.

arriving at the fair, they did not waste a single second in exploring all the plays—more like raine dragging him forcefully everywhere but who cares. the man himself certainly did not care.

they played with a lot of things—her winning almost every time she touches a game. as the night went deeper, the moon higher, the young silva hopped her way to the carousel, inviting the man to join her.

he should have known really, that although there was a proper seat similar to those in carriages, she would choose to mount the horses. and so, they did, side by side with each other. and he thinks, it must have been that moment.

it was not love at first sight, of course. he has known her already and they simply happened to want to spend the night in great fun. yet, somehow, in the moment he was watching her smile serenely, genuinely... he suddenly realised he was incredibly taken by her.

yes, it was not love at first sight.

it was something more magical.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

her first season came, and that meant her first-ever ball. benedict did not want to leave her side. for the lady in front of him, the place was crawling with old crocodiles. there were men worse than him present.

but, he needed to leave. everyone's eyes have been on them even before they began dancing. if he stayed with her more tonight, they would be named as the match by the queen. she was one of the most sought-after debutante of the season, for god's sake. what was he doing? and so, he left her and strayed far away from her presence.

fate, however, had other plans. because when he entered the gentlemen's club to fetch his brother, there sat the young silva with the biggest grin ever. he did not know how it happened, actually, but he just found himself already playing cards with the girl and now on the verge of losing in the presence of other lords who have witnessed their bet. then, benedict saw it clearly. raine shifted her cards and placed a losing pair.

she purposely lost against him.

he was not insulted. he appreciated the girl's gesture, and so he followed her when she was fleeing from her father.

in the next following days, the girl invited herself to his trip to the art exhibit. he found her company fun even though she has always been a critic of his works. when he caught wind of the news that there was going to be a medical convention on that day, he quickly excused himself from the promenade with his family.

benedict went to the convention and was looking for her. he found it strange that she did not invite him, considering how pushy she was to join him last time. his thoughts were interrupted when he finally caught sight of the girl in a close conversation with a man he did not recognise. the whole time, he walked around the convention, keeping his distance from them. that was how he spent his day and immediately bolting out as soon as he saw the girl finally exiting the place. he did not plan for her to see him across the street though and invite her for a late lunch.

benedict did not go to a brothel that day.

then, hawkins balloon day came. he entered the scientific dome in hopes of catching sight of the girl. however, he saw another woman. he met lady arnold. he listened to her, and she was utterly similar to loraine. she was fun, exciting, challenging, and smart like her. the only distinction was that lady arnold was older, this time. it was the bridgerton boy's first crisis. he could not look at the young silva's eyes all throughout the rest of the day.

rightly so because the following day, completely unaware of everything that has happened to the young one, he went to lady arnold's home as a caller. he was enticed and he could not control himself. if you ask him now, benedict would answer. it was not him that day. it was the monster. one thing led to another and he found himself bare, body to body with the said lady—only to feel disgusted the second after her pure name slipped from his lips, his manhood in the mouth of another.

and so, the only thing that entered his mind was to go to her and convince her to stop the proposals—to let go of his loraine. he could not hold it for longer. he wanted to cling on his sanity. the silva's presence and passion have reached him so desperately. he resolutely took a step away from her, believing it to be the most logical thing to do in the situation.

yet again, fate pulled him to her. his sanity completely lost when the news of her being called to the parliament and queen for interrogation and not a formal trial reached his ears. it was a bliss—one that he would remember each movement. he touched her, void of innocent intentions for the first time, only to find out that there was no disgust at all. the revulsion came from the idea that it was not her he's been laying with this whole time.

she tasted like art, painting and poetry all together. she smelled like the color paints he often used, mixing black and white to find the neutral. she sounded like his favorite classical piece. she looked like his favorite scenery. she felt like his favorite brush, one that you would recognise by a single touch.

so, no. he did not love her. love was such a vague, weakened word. she was everything that he loved.

he loved through her, by her, and for her.

and if you think this has a happy ending, then you have not been paying attention.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @myo11 @idek-what-to-put @aysamuka

[vthunder42]

Royal Replacement: (Caption Text Under the Cut)

It was nearly time, the Duke’s son would be here soon and I’d be expected to greet him while our fathers discussed their business dealings. It was hardly the first time I was made to play nice with visiting royalty, but the first time dressed like this. Usually, this was reserved for my twin sister, Penelope, but when her lady-in-waiting went to wake her up this morning, she was gone! She’d been complaining recently about not wanting to marry any of the suitors she had, and had confided in me once that the suitor she desired was actually a Countess, but I never expected her to actually run away from home. This particular Duke’s son was the one my parents favored her to marry, so she needed to meet him. Fortunately for them, even as we get older, our genetics still favor each other enough that I could pass for her if I had to.

And boy, I had to. Even my father was in favor, so my mother and the handmaiden spent the entire morning making me over and stuffing me into one of Penelope’s dresses. My body was smooth and free of hair below my plucked eyebrows, my makeup immaculate and my body accentuated thanks to padding and creatively sewn garments. They even had me attending her harp lesson for authenticity’s sake, it was strange watching my delicately manicured fingers plucking at the strings.

“It’s only temporary!”

“Your sister will return home soon enough, you won’t actually have to marry him!”

But I knew my sister, strong-willed and wickedly intelligent, she’d never be found, but Penelope would become the Duchess anyway, and her brother the prince would vanish into obscurity, never to be heard from again.

[eoieopda]

<whispers in your ear> Cheol x Reader where he’s her brother’s friend? 🙏

the one with seungcheol and the ruse

pairing: choi seungcheol x jeon!reader summary: your knight’s shining armor is actually of flannel, but he gets the job done. cw: reader’s gender/sexuality are left up to interpretation, annoying ex, alcohol mention, the setting is a bar, wonwoo doesn’t actually appear but my girl lee youngji does (lmao) au: older brother’s best friend, fake dating (sort of) type: drabble (fluff-adjacent) rating: pg15 wc: 1.4 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

The similarities between you and your brother start and stop with genetic material. While you’d rather die than spend a Saturday night at home alone, Wonwoo would sooner drop dead than divorce himself from his PC just to leave his apartment. 

All things considered, it’s not much of a surprise when you roll up to the bar with your friends and find your brother’s there without him. Just the same, you’re not shocked when the cursory wave you give goes unnoticed; they’re all too busy guzzling shots to care who walks by.

All but one, that is.

The oldest, Seungcheol, lifts his pint glass in acknowledgment when he sees you come in from the cold. That gesture comes with a bonus in the form of a lazy half-smile, which almost has you tripping over your own feet. Now effectively tattooed on your brain, you still picture that lopsided grin while you cross the room to claim a booth.

Of the boys taking up space at the bar, Seungcheol is the closest to your brother — and, as a natural consequence, the closest to you. So, you tell yourself, it’s only natural that your focus keeps drifting in his way. More than that, it’s polite, checking in to make sure he’s having fun. 

Wonwoo would want that for him, after all.

Right?

More often than not, Seungcheol is too engrossed in his friends’ shenanigans to feel your casual — polite — gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. Even though he’s not looking in your direction, you find it hard to stop glancing in his. It can’t be helped; it’s always been this way. There’s only one conclusion left to draw: 

Choi Seungcheol was tailor-made to distract you.

First, it’s the fact that his hair is quite a bit longer now than when you saw him at your parents’ anniversary party a few weeks ago. The more you stare at those dark waves, the more you try to justify it to yourself. As far as you’ll admit, it has nothing whatsoever to do with how soft those tresses look; nor any desire you may or may not have to touch them and test your theory. 

No, you’re simply trying to determine what vitamins or supplements he takes to achieve that perfect shine — because whatever he’s doing is working.

When you stop gawking at his head, it’s his hands that trip you up. The way they grip Soonyoung’s biceps when the younger of the two starts wobbling, threatening to topple over onto a soju-sticky floor. The urge you feel to throw yourself at the ground and see who catches you is purely scientific, you tell yourself. 

Research.

If it’s not his body, it’s the sound he makes, laughing like a mad man with his whole chest. You have to peel your velcro gaze off of him to see what he’s laughing at: Kim Mingyu, who attempted to catch a tossed peanut in his mouth but ended up getting hit between the eyebrows.

You’d let yourself be pelted with peanuts if it made him laugh like that again — and, quite frankly, you have no excuses left to give about why that is.

Nine times out of ten, your friends are smirking when you finally turn back around because they know exactly where your eyes keep wandering — and to whom. They point out the way your cheeks and ears flame up. Each time they do, you blame it on the alcohol, though none of you believe it.

When you turn around for the tenth time, however,  they’re not smirking. Instead, they’re pushing their empty glasses your way.

“You’re on refill duty, aren’t you?” Youngji asks with a single eyebrow raised. 

You’re not, but she’s not blind. She knows how much you want to hover, and how desperately you need an excuse to do so.

Seungkwan, quick on the uptake, chugs what’s left of his cocktail. His face is still twisted from the sour syrup when he waves his now-empty glass in front of you. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to; his narrowed eyes are menacing, and they tell you everything he’s thinking.

You sigh, put-upon, even though everyone knows you aren’t. Lips pursed tight, you keep that giddy grin to yourself as you collect the glasses and skip off towards the bar.

After giving your orders to the bartender, you glance — for the millionth time — over to your brother’s friends. The one you’re looking for is nowhere to be seen. Bravely, you do your best not to pout.

“Hey,” comes a low voice from behind you.

It’s a miracle that your head doesn’t roll with how quickly you swivel around. 

As soon as you do, your face falls. The excited flip in your stomach is swiftly replaced by a wave of nausea. Your tone is clipped and drenched in disappointment when you respond: “Can I help you?”

Your ex never could take a hint. They breeze right past that deadly look on your face, sidle up next to you at the bar until their shoulder is damn near bumping into yours. Worse, they open their mouth to speak again.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately —”

Is that not the point of breaking up with someone?

Desperate, your eyes scan the room for anyone who might notice the giant, neon exclamation point flashing above your head. Nobody you stare pointedly at feels your gaze on them, so you switch targets — again, again, again. Your brother’s friends are equally as useless as your own, it seems.

What if you tap “SOS” in morse code?

“— I’ve missed you. Missed us.”

Shit. 

Why didn’t you learn morse code?

You’re ready to sprint headlong out of the bar entirely when an arm — thankfully not your ex’s — drapes around your shoulders. With a quick glance up, you confirm that there’s truth to the meme: not all heroes wear capes. 

As it turns out, some heroes wear flannels, and they accessorize them with jaws clenched tightly enough to crack teeth.

“Jagi, who’s this?” 

Seungcheol’s posture relaxes just a little when he looks down at you. You swallow and keep your swooning to a minimum. There’s sweetness dripping from his tone that you want to bathe in. 

“I thought I’d met all your friends by now.”

When you let him pull you closer to his side — so close that your head can rest against his goddamn pectoral — you tell yourself that it’s just part of the bit. The affectionate smile he sends your way is part of the ruse. He’s convincing, though; you’d fall for this con, too.

You and your moon-sized eyes begrudgingly shift focus from Seungcheol to your ex, who still hasn’t taken the hint. That lovesick smile of yours is gone in an instant, giving way to the flattest affect you can muster. The sugar-laced voice you speak with is a far cry from the unblinking and unapologetic expression on your face. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t recall your name! What was it?”

Suddenly, Seungcheol unwraps his arm from around you. He seems to sense that this change-up startles you, so he winks at you while he leaning forward into the space between you and your ex; hands reaching for the drinks you’ve been waiting on.

Oh, you realize. He’s making sure you get the last word.

You swallow thickly as you reach out to take your burden off his hands. He shakes his head and beckons you with a smile, eyes softening. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got these.”

You do as he says, following close behind him like a puppy, and you only stop when he does. Seungcheol looks back over his shoulder, calling out first to the bartender: 

“Can you put these on my tab? The name’s Choi.”

Then, dropping all pretense of friendliness, to your ex:

“Get home safe, eh, chingu?”

When you both resume your path to your table, you squeeze his elbow and whisper, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he urges, shaking his head a second time. Although he’s smiling, there’s some unspoken conflict in his eyes that you can’t quite parse. You can’t ask after it, either, because he stops stalling and sighs, “That’s what pseudo-brothers are for, right?”

[y-rhywbeth2]

Elven 'Physiology' and Quirks

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index[tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Physiology and quirks | Names & Clans and Houses || Pan-Cultural things: Social life | Time and Age Categories | Homes | Language | Art | Entertainment | Technology || Elven 'Subraces' still a wip || Philosophy and Religion & Pantheons || Half-elves | [WIP]

In my continued desire to procrastinate on reading two novels and cross-referencing about three sourcebooks for drow culture, I met myself in the middle and did this instead.

Also I really need to rehaul some of the lore compilations...

Unlike elves of other worlds, the Tel'Quessir – except drow – are as tall as humans, but finer boned and typically narrower in build – except for aquatic elves. An elf weighs less than a human of the same build and height, which appears to be something to do with their bone density, as elven bones (especially winged elves’) are light (though ‘surprisingly sturdy’). Their fingertips taper, and their hands and fingers are longer than a humans… although I still think saying they’re 50% longer (palm and fingers) is a bit much.

Elves are noted for their androgyny, which goes both ways; there's not much difference in the skeletal structure and elven women are noted by humans for their narrow hips, which led to a comment that it must make childbirth agonising in comparison.

Elves are also noted for their distinctive 'dance-like' motions while walking due to walking on their toes and the balls of their feet: 'Most seemed to have a lilt and swing, like dancers. Ah, that was it—none strode flat-footed; even the tallest and most hurried of the citizenry danced forward on their toes.' - Elminster in Myth Drannor

They don't grow much in the way of body hair - they appear hairless, with the only visible hair on their eyebrows and scalp. Elves unused to mixed company find non-elves disturbingly hirsute.

The shape of their facial features, regardless of ‘subrace,’ are as varied as humans. The only rules of thumb are about their eyes and ears:

Elven ears are always pointy – but can vary greatly in shape and length otherwise. They’re somewhat prehensile; elven children can move their ears, but generally this ability is lost with maturation. Maintaining it seems to be a genetic quirk. Whether the shape or whatever, elves have sharp hearing.

Elven eyes are larger in proportion to their face and spaced a little further apart than human eyes, slightly slanted in a manner that gives them a wider field of vision and more acute vision in general.

If you're using recent editions then elves can see in very low light conditions (able to see perfectly clearly by starlight alone). Drow can see in perfect darkness.

If you want to go by older editions you're looking at infravision: elves, like other beings that can 'see' in the darkness, were able to change their sight to the infrared spectrum, perceiving heat signatures. Drow vision was further ranged and more acute than surface elves'.

Elves aren't diurnal, and have no particular circadian rhythm, they just get four hours in whenever and communities are have a consistent level of full activity all day and night.

The elven olfactory senses are much sharper, as is their sense of taste. Drow raised in the Underdark have a sense of smell on par with humans, due to overexposure to incense and other strong fragrances used in ritual and covering up the fact that living crowded together in caves doesn't always spell great. Elves are picky eaters, both due to taste and texture, deriding non-elven cuisine as ‘over-spiced animal flesh and other abominable foods.’

Elves are biologically wired for music somehow, able to recall melodies flawlessly and engage in music theory , 'the elven faculty for music is uncanny in comparison to most other races,' which they credit to the divine influence of the Seldarine.

While this doesn't always come up in the rules, elves are immune to the paralytic effects of ghouls, due to an incident involving either Corellon Larethian or Lolth, and the ghoul deity Doresain, who in the version of his backstory given for the Realms was a green elf back in -11,200 DR whose recent ancestors were of the nation of Eiellûr and betrayed their people to the dark elven empire of Ilythiir. A rather brutal bastard and slaver who eventually killed and ate the raw flesh of the ruling family of the last surviving green elven nation of Southern Faerûn as part of a pact with the demon lord of the undead, Orcus for eternal life. When Doresain later fell in combat during one of the many skirmishes of the Crown Wars, Orcus brought him back as a unique undead horror and King of the Ghouls and Orcus’ proxy on Toril (so that Orcus could focus on important matters in the Abyss). Doresain eventually became trapped in the Abyss, trapped in service to Yeenoghu when Orcus ignored his pleas to save him (despite his ‘domain’ Orcus despises the undead). Most Torilian sages claim that Lolth intervened and freed him, bringing Doresain back to Toril in exchange for imbuing the drow with immunity to his children and swearing that ghouls would never attack them, which indirectly affected all elves (except for the ‘not attacking’). Others claim he prayed to the gods of his living years, the Seldarine, and they took pity on him in exchange for the same service.

The Seldarine are always depicted as genderfluid or agender – if depicted in art in humanoid form they are shown with two bodies as afab and amab, or possessing both characteristics in a single form. Occasionally a mortal elf is also born who takes after the gods; marked by their androgyny (by elven standards) and the ability to alter their sex characteristics at will, these elves are considered blessed by Corellon and closer to the gods by many elven cultures. They haven’t been given an official word, but the elven word for ‘Blessings of Corellon’ on Toril is ‘Cormiira.’ According to the most popular take on the elven creation myth, the People are born of Corellon’s blood (and possibly Sehanine’s tears as she wept at seeing him gravely wounded), which many elves attribute this as evidence for. The Tel’Quessir do have several other creation myths however.

Elves have an innate connection to the Weave, which is why they're 'the wizard race' and something to do with their connection to the world. Elves are more likely to have the innate ability required to become arcane spellcasters, and some say the Weave is what gives them their lifespans.

Going into purely non-published realmslore from word of god:

The elven gestation period takes two years (this I’m pretty sure is in published DnD somewhere?) Elves tend to avoid being pregnant unless they actively want to and have generally mastered the art of not being pregnant, the threat of being side-lined by shorter lived peoples who have more children and faster be buggered.

The elven diet primarily consists of raw plant matter and fish. The elven digestive system can handle vegetation that others’ cant. They can eat meat, and many do – especially those who grow up around humans, who have developed a tolerance that makes it easier for them to digest – but it’s not a ‘natural’ part of their diet nor does it play a large role. Apparently drinking small quantities animal blood is a reasonably common enough way to consume land animals (I’m not clear on whether this is in the form of soups or beverages).

Elves are severely allergic to cannabis and can't use it, though they have found unspecified alternatives.

While getting it is unpleasant, they are only inconvenienced by bubonic plague and its not considered a dangerous disease.

Elves also draw energy from the sunlight, which bolsters their metabolism, allowing them to eat less and possibly playing a part in their ability to digest previously mentioned plant matter. Access to fresh water (not just drinking it) also plays a part in their overall health. Somehow. Dark elves in the Underdark have adapted over the centuries (or maybe from the High Magic ritual that binds them to it) to draw from the faerzress radiation.

Elven vocal chords can reach pitches higher than humans can reach, and there's a gene that can allow the elf to produce two notes at the same time, which with training allows them to sort-of say two things at once (a 'ghost' vocalisation beneath the spoken words). This is described as 'genetic but not racial' so I assume it can pass to half-elves and any non-elven descendants through them.

---

Reverie/'Eedqa':

Elves do not sleep, unless something has gone wrong (injury, illness, exhaustion). They also can’t be forced to sleep, and are immune to magic that would do so (but not to being whacked over the back of the head and knocked out with something heavy).

- Elves enter a state called the Reverie (or just reverie) in Common, and ‘eedqa’ in Elven. The elf finds a quiet place to relax, gradually tuning out the world and slipping into a trance-like state where they re-experience their lived memories, occasionally interspersed with memories from past lives and visions from the gods – which will be vague and puzzling and probably require a priest to decode, the Lady of Mysteries did not earn that nickname for nothing. - They are somewhat aware of their surroundings in reverie, but pulling themselves back out of their mind is disorienting and waking early is extremely disorienting, much like waking any sleeping individual. Physically, they are immobile, not necessarily lying in a normal sleeping position (sitting or reclining is the norm), their breathing slows into a torpor and their eyes remain open and unfocused, which has occasionally caused panic in acquaintances who’ve never witnessed reverie before and think the elf has died (elves in turn are known to find the 'heaviness' of sleep disturbing to behold).

The only elves who deliberately sleep are priests of Sehanine Moonbow, who occasionally enter the deeper state of unconsciousness to communicate with their goddess, and the majority of drow (whose struggles to achieve reverie have been credited to the Underdark 'fragmenting' their natural instincts, and their inability to relax enough to enter the state).

Elves experience their first reverie in the womb, as pregnancy forges a temporary Rapport between parent and developing foetus where the offspring experiences the parent’s life and learns of their family and culture through them (how much the child can learn varies by parent; quality of education not guaranteed). Young children, lacking experiences of their own, are more likely to experience memories of previous lives unless they share in the reveries of other elves. The occurrence of the first ‘current life’ reverie is a life milestone and typically marks the end of childhood.

It’s very taboo amongst elves to interrupt another elf’s reverie.

-

Communion and Aleirin:

'Elves who lived even in reasonably close contact were so connected to each other through the Reverie and the Weave that they shared at least some shadow of each other’s emotional experiences.'

Elves have something of telepathic abilities, such as the ability to sense their own kind, a ‘sense of welcome,’ ‘warmth’ and ‘safety,’ although this can be obscured. This extends to the ability to enter each others minds and share thoughts, emotions and memory. Although that’s not to say that elves are living in each others heads, nor that they can (or are willing to) do it simply or constantly.

The state of ‘mind melding’ is communion, which is accomplished by sharing reverie while in physical contact (holding hands or pressing palms together, usually). The elven term for communion is apparently quor, however I can’t say for certain that applies to this mystical variety. Communing is credited with the sense of community elves experience, is an important part of elven religion, and they’re noted to anticipate sharing themselves with loved ones and struggle to understand non-elves due to their lack of ability to do so. However, it’s not a state entered into casually, as it requires deep trust and a willingness to be vulnerable with your entire being – you are exposing your every emotion and memory to another. Preparation may take weeks of mundane communication as the elves do away with any prejudices and air concerns to be resolved beforehand. It’s also physically and emotionally draining, and while in communal reverie the elves are entirely unaware of anything but each other and are vulnerable to surrounding hazards. Up to four elves may participate at once.

This awareness of each other lends elves an understanding that allows them to predict each others moods and actions acutely, and aids them to work in sync or borrow one anothers skills for a time (for example an elf who doesn’t know how to speak a certain language may temporarily ‘know’ after borrowing the knowledge from another elf.) Extended use of communion may cause loss of individuality however, as the elves begin to blend into each other.

Elves who isolate themselves from their people - whether this is by their own bitterness, malice, scheming, etc, or if the source is due to external magical affects like the Shadow Weave digging out these emotions (which; Shar, that’s what she does) - lose the ability to reverie and the ability to commune with it. Other elves cannot sense them, describing them as feeling ‘asleep.’

Drow may or may not be capable. They are capable of reverie, which would indicate that they can, they just don't know they can, or plain don't (Lolth would firmly discourage it with torture and death regardless).

Some elves, when they trust each other implicitly, may chose to make the link more permanent – a communion that never ends, in a form called Rapport or aleirin, or aleiryid if the nature of their relationship is romantic. The bonding is permanent, and can usually only be made a single time. Those born of multiple births like twins have rapport with their siblings, but outside of this it’s still uncommon for an elf to make this level of commitment and most are happier with normal, less co-dependent relationships (especially because, if you want to bring in the Complete Book of Elves, the shock of one partner dying can kill the other). A rapport can be made with non-elves, a ranger could even choose to establish one with their animal companion, but such bonds are so rare as to be practically unheard of.

The ability to commune has been attributed to a gland in the elven brain, which produces a magic that veils their minds. At rest it forms a shield that isolates them (and some scholars believe this is where the elven resistance to enchantment magic comes from), but they can lift it or expand it to bring other elven minds in.

The elven resistance to enchantment spells has also been credited to elven culture itself, since magic saturates their world so heavily elves grow up exposed to a constant background radiation of enchantment magic, for lack of a better word, and build up a tolerance. Others have said it’s the elves fey ancestry.

--

Souls/'Ues':

Like most sapient beings who are not humans – or mostly/half-human (excluding half-orcs) dwarves, gnomes or halflings – elven souls, ‘ues’ in elven, are somewhat different to the norm. sometimes differentiated in lore by calling them ‘spirits,’ and do not stay permanently in the afterlife, instead residing in the outer planes for a time (varying from days to millennia) before reincarnating back on the Prime Material Plane. While 5e claims drow are locked out of the cycle, the original lore included drow, and suggested that elves who decide to be evil little bastards in life and bar themselves from Arvandor will find themselves reincarnated as drow (vice versa: a drow who rejects Lolth is unlikely to find themselves reborn in her clutches).

(Elves do not have access to DnD sourcebooks and do not have any concrete idea of this kind of thing, so elven religion and philosophy varies heavily and may or may not reflect these things. Some elves don’t even believe in reincarnation.)

Another traditional side effect was that raise dead didn’t work on elves, only resurrection. Space was made for DMs to hand-waive this if it was getting in the way (because it makes elves expensive to have in the party), and the rule seems to have been officially side-lined for convenience by this point.

--

Ageing:

How elves age has varied by edition and writer. Sometimes they're human aging, sometimes a bit slower, sometimes much, much slower.

In most sources, including 5e core, an elf matures at the same rate, physically and psychologically, as a human, later developing into elven psychological stages as the centuries pass and they outlive the human experience.

It's also been said that Torilian elves are physically mature at 25.

In older editions, including realms sources, elves could age slower, taking between 30-60 years to hit puberty (which lasts another 50-85 years). Psychologically, non-elves are known to find elven youths to be rather mature for their age (due to longer lives and communing with the adults in their lives), though they’re still inexperienced by elven standards and hormonal. Elven children are left to pursue their ever shifting curiosity, instincts and impulses which means they generally don’t master any skills and end up about level with any other race by early adulthood. Drow have the fastest rates of maturation, Gold elves the slowest. Wheras in humans afab are known to hit puberty first on average, elves mature at the same average speed regardless.

Elves also have a mystical land-connection thing and are noted to be shaped by their environments, and it has been said of the latter version of ageing that elves may mature faster outside of the slow pace of elven cultures, particularly in dangerous and stressful situations where they need to grow fast.

Bizarrely, and I’m assuming this is a typo, it seems that the process of elven puberty is a bit like getting steroids because they get strength and dexterity bonuses. Or maybe elven teens are just stronger and more agile than their human counterparts, which is probably more likely if it isn't a typo.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 4 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

John

he’s a priest. he can punch your lights out. he would never hurt a fly. he has connections in the black market. he gives everything he can to the local orphans. he will not hesitate to play pranks on you. he wants everyone to be happy. he has daddy issues probably. he wants a promotion sososososoooooo bad.

I accidentally submitted the last 5actors name but it’s the same guy

Hey everyone please vote for this man I love him he truely is what we need more of in this world the kindest most relatable character has flaws etc etc. Deserves the world

Enrico propaganda

He grew up in the church and became a priest. so devoted to his faith he ended the UNIVERSE to achieve the perfect world aka heaven

Hes Catholic but also so gay for this one vampire that he ended the world for him

He is LITERALLY one big metaphor for the catholic church as a villain. He’s a guy who believes himself to be a martyr on a fundamentally altruistic quest that will better humanity and the world, but in truth hes a destructive force blind to his faults and hypocritical of the atrocities he commits. Even his altruisim is just a lie (that he does believe himself though) because it all just stems from a deep rooted desire he has to alliviate the guilt he feels. Also hes obsessed with ”the world to come” to the point that hes downright nihilistic towards the current world he actually lives in, as well as the other people in it. which i mean. lol. Ultimately hes an insane delusional queen and he should win this because he is just That catholic. also he is a catholic priest :)

his names pussy bc he served cunt (in a catholic god honoring way)

I want my bestie’s guy in bere

No one could feel guilt to this level if not catholic

Religious Allegory mostly woth how his power(white snake) is contradictory it has white to make you think of good things but it contrast with snake a creature that tempted adam and eve. Although he is a Man of faith his stand’s design is far from it being incredibly intimidating and lined with the genetic of dna whihc is scientific compared to faith.

Bro tries to kill a child

serial killer priest bro

HE IS INSANE He spent his whole life believing in fate and when his world turned around Shakespeare tragedy style he made it his mission to bring 「HEAVEN TO EARTH」, which means TEARING AWAY THE FABRIC OF REALITY SO THAT EVERYONE IS AWARE OF THEIR OWN FATE. How does he get there? Simple! By using a half-baked horse to SPEED UP TIME UNTIL THE UNIVERSE RESETS AND LAUNCHES EVERYONE INTO A NEW WORLD. How did he GET this horse??? Oh, as one does - his (dead) best friend’s toe bone grew into a baby made of leaves that vored him, but he survived and grew even more eyebrows than he already had. And that’s without getting into the STUFF that makes him a phenomenal, S-tier, fine wine that EXPLODES and causes you to see VISIONS type of character. That’s just the surface. But, ah, that’s Catholics for ya. Vote Enrico Pucci for king of the Catholic tournament. 👍🏻

[naeverse]

Extra Credit PT: 2

🏫staring. Professor O’Hara x Sassy fem!reader

🎒 preview: “Do you agree, Y/N? Will you help me help you?"

🖋️Summary: Miguel O'Hara, a renowned, attractive genetics professor,  known for his strict stance against extra credit. As a senior, you struggle to keep up with coursework and Mr. O'Hara's opposition to extra credit makes it difficult for you to pass. However, a chance encounter with you changes everything, as Mr. O'Hara becomes more open to helping you - but you must help him in return.

📕tw/cw. unprotected sex, harsh language, hate sex, rough, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, oral sex, spanking, accidental simulation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Miguel, mutual orgasm, etc… 

📘pet names: (hers) little puta or puta (Little bitch, bitch), Chica (Girl), Muñeca (Doll), 

✏️ rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

📖Word count: 4k words

🍎 Credit to Artist in header: Narutoss.ramen

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

After the last student left his classroom, it appeared as though Mr. O'Hara had been triggered…

His gaze swiftly landed on you, seated with your legs crossed in a chair, engrossed in your phone. He tried his utmost to maintain his focus on the current task at hand.

"Y/N?" Mr. O'Hara called out once more. You met his gaze as he signaled you over with a subtle beckon of two fingers. Scanning the empty classroom, you gracefully slipped out of your desk. Your black boots echoed with every step as you approached the strong, tanned instructor.

Mr. O'Hara gulped, almost releasing in his pants at the very sight of you approaching him. He shifted his attention to his monitor, moving his mouse aimlessly and clicking on random links, trying to mask his inner turmoil. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he battled with a mixture of emotions—frustration, desire, and longing.

It pained him to be consumed by such feelings, especially when directed at someone like you. Someone he found so irritating, difficult, and an absolute nuisance.

He despised how aroused he was by you. He literally felt like he could cum on the spot without you even touching him.

Mr. O'Hara's black leather oxford that adorned his foot tapped nervously against the floor. He kept his attention fixed on his monitor, avoiding eye contact with you.

Like before, you hopped up onto Mr. O'Hara's desk, your skirt riding up your thighs. You swung your legs whilst looking at Mr. O'Hara from over your shoulder.

"So, what did you want to discuss about my grades, Mr. O?" you inquired, looking at the well-built man whose white polo shirt clung to his form.

Mr. O'Hara let out a trembling breath as he observed you perched on his desk, your legs on full display. He adjusted his black glasses on his nose, his demeanor nervous as he tried to concentrate on your eager expression.

He moistened his lips with a hint of uncertainty. This was his last chance to back out. To be professional and ignore his throbbing arousal that was slowly growing in his pants. But Mr. O'Hara couldn't help but notice your eager eyes, the way they looked at him in curiosity and interest of what your discussion will uphold. The look on you was doing something to him, and he loved and hated the feeling.

Once again, the question presented itself to him.

To continue…

Or back out.

He clenched his jaw, his amber eyes flickering red with arousal as they trailed over your every being.

Your captivating eyes, flawless lips, graceful neck, alluring breasts, immaculate stomach, luscious thighs, and those seductive boots that were pushing him to the brink of insanity.

And in that very moment, he made a firm decision –

He wasn’t backing out…

"I was reflecting on our previous discussion…” Mr. O'Hara began, clicking the trigger of his ballpoint pen once, twice, thrice before finally meeting your gaze. "I've been contemplating offering you some…"

"Extra credit."

Your legs, which had been swinging in the air, came to an abrupt halt, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Had you misheard him?

Mr. O'Hara had always been staunchly against extra credit, refusing it for anyone. He believed that if students hadn't put in the effort the first time, they didn't deserve a second chance. It was what he was known for on campus and what earned him the reputation of being a strict and demanding professor, so you were taken aback by his words.

"I…I thought you didn't allow extra credit," you stammered, your gaze locked intently on Mr. O'Hara. You half-expected someone to leap out and reveal this was a prank, as you struggled to believe what you had just heard.

Mr. O'Hara knew that he was venturing into morally questionable territory, but his desperation and need for a release compelled him to proceed. He looked up at you, attempting to maintain a serious expression, even though he was close to the most critical part of his plan and becoming increasingly nervous.

Clearing his throat, he began, "Well, I don't usually… but this is your last year on campus, correct?"

You nodded in response, and he couldn’t help the small smirk that formed on his lips. "Your senior year is crucial, Y/N. It's the year where you're giving your all to earn as many credits as possible to graduate and move on to the next stage of your adult life," he said, busying himself with organizing a few test packets he had been grading, his gaze seemingly more focused on the stack of papers than on you.

You hummed in agreement, hanging onto his every word. Mr. O'Hara then set the stack aside to meet your eyes directly. "We both know you've been facing some…challenges in my class," he added, his voice taking on a husky tone. "I understand and sympathize with your situation, which is why I'd like to offer you some extra credit to boost your grade."

With each word, Mr. O'Hara's heart pounded loudly in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was doing, what he was saying…

But he felt compelled to continue.

You averted your gaze from Mr. O'Hara to in front of you, taking a moment to let his words sink in. Afterward, you slowly nodded and turned back to look at him over your shoulder.

"Okay, so what's the extra credit?" you asked with a hint of amusement. "If it's a packet of genetics questions, I'm sorry, but it won't be much of a help." You chuckled and waited patiently for Mr. O'Hara's response.

He licked his lips, a wave of heat creeping up his tanned neck. Shaking his head at your guess, his eyes briefly wandered down to your smooth and silky thighs before locking onto your gaze once more.

"It's not a packet…

But something else…"

Mr. O'Hara paused after his words. He hesitated, feeling a sense of unease, especially as you crossed your arms over your chest, accentuating your bust. This sight caused his arousal to intensify significantly, and he had to bite his lip harshly to regain control.

"It's something that involves just you and me."

Your reaction was a mix of shock and confusion.

If the extra credit didn't entail an assignment, project, or a packet and required both you and Mr. O'Hara's presence, you were left entirely bewildered as to what it could involve.

You stared at Mr. O'Hara in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing.

"So, it's something that involves just you and me?" you inquired. "You want me to bring you coffee and lunch every day? If it comes to that, I'm more than willing to do it if it helps my grade." You chuckled lightly.

Mr. O'Hara couldn't help but laugh at your comment before clearing his throat. He was trying to find a way to explain without sounding peculiar or scaring you off.

"No, not quite like that," he clarified. "It's something a bit more… personal."

Your puzzled expression deepened, and you remained oblivious to his true intentions. Mr. O'Hara found your naivety somewhat endearing.

"It involves me giving you some extra attention," he said in a playful tone, hoping you'd catch on, but it seemed you were still in the dark.

You turned to Mr. O'Hara fully, your eyebrows knitted together, and your eyes scanning his facial features with a sense of urgency.

'He can't be thinking that… right?'

Your gaze roamed over his tanned face, his amber, almost crimson narrowed eyes behind his black spectacles. You couldn't help but notice the sharp curve of his jawline and his lips, which curled into a taunting smile.

His muscular, well-built body with broad shoulders and a frame so large it strained against his white polo shirt wasn't overlooked in your intense gaze.

While you couldn't deny Mr. O'Hara's physical appeal, you also couldn't overlook his status as an obnoxious individual. There was no way you'd willingly give in to him…

Unless…

No, it couldn't be what he was suggesting. You and Mr. O'Hara shared a mutual hate for each other. You were convinced he couldn't possibly be alluding to anything sexual…

Right…?

"Extra attention?" you repeated, your voice tinged with perplexity. "Professor, I'm not following. What are you talking about?"

Your gaze was locked on Mr. O’Hara, eager for him to provide further clarification, as at that moment, extra credit seemed to suggest either something of a sexual nature involving Mr. O'Hara or an entirely different proposal. Regardless…

You found yourself in a state of confusion.

Your arms were folded over your chest, your legs crossed, and your flannel skirt had unintentionally ridden up your thighs once more.

Mr. O'Hara couldn't help but chuckle once more, amused by your apparent confusion. He found it rather entertaining to witness someone who was typically so sharp-tongued and rude struggle to grasp the situation.

He had a feeling that you understood his meaning quite well but needed a little nudge in the right direction. Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat once again and looked up at you with narrowed eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean, Y/N…"

His gaze, however, began to drift down your body once more before returning to your eyes. A newfound boldness washed over him, and he decided not to hold back any longer.

He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs to reveal the prominent bulge in his black dress pants. With a toothy grin, he beckoned you over with a nod of his head.

"Why don't you come over here, and I'll show you exactly what I mean?"

He grinned at you, never breaking eye contact. Slowly, a smirk began to spread across your lips, and you realized that you were indeed correct about Mr. O'Hara's intentions.

"You horny bastard," you playfully remarked, accompanied by a chuckle. "You want me to provide you with some sexual attention, is that it?"

Mr. O'Hara's heart raced as he grappled with mixed emotions, unsure of how you were interpreting the situation. He couldn't predict your thoughts—

Did you find his proposition disgusting or perhaps believe it was all a joke?

Regret was beginning to seep in as he ventured into unfamiliar territory. The uncertainty gnawed at him, making his stomach churn with suspense and anticipation.

His anxiety transformed him into a stoic figure. His face grew rigid, his voice cold and stern. "Yes," he replied, meeting your playful gaze with serious, unwavering eyes.

"And would you assist me with my problem, Y/N? In exchange for help with your grades?"

His tone was firm and unyielding, but his nervousness remained palpable. You sat on his desk, grinning back at him, still somewhat in disbelief at his audacious request. However, the fact that you had this older, muscular man practically begging for your attention was, oddly, an ego boost.

Your eyes roamed his body, and a smirk graced your lips. You let your gaze linger on his thick, muscular thighs and the prominent bulge in his black slacks before locking onto his stern amber-red eyes behind his black spectacles.

While you didn't mind helping Mr. O'Hara if it meant improving your grades, what genuinely intrigued you was how long he had been harboring this desire. Your curiosity got the best of you.

"So, how long have you been dealing with this issue, Mr. O'Hara?" you asked, sitting back on your hands, your smirk taunting. His jaw clenched at your teasing. He disliked your games and just wanted a straightforward answer regarding your willingness to assist.

He growled, his scowl deepening. "That's none of your business," he retorted. "Do you agree to my terms or not?" You chuckled, savoring the satisfaction of getting under Mr. O'Hara's skin.

It was a peculiar delight to see how easy it was to provoke his reactions.

With your eyes trailing along his body once more, you asked, "How much is this extra credit worth? I need specifics before I get my hands dirty." Your expression was completely serious despite the playful banter.

A smirk gradually spread across Mr. O'Hara's lips; it appeared you were on board with his plan, and he intended to sweeten the deal even further.

"If you complete this “task” for me, I'll raise your 58, which you scored on my test last week, to an 80…

How does that sound, Y/N?"

Your smile broadened, and you were becoming more intrigued by this deal.

"And how much would that raise my grade to? I want to pass your course with a C, Mr. O."

Mr. O'Hara hummed in thought, considering your request. The semester was already halfway through, and with your previous performance, you were likely to receive more low grades.

He glanced up at you, his gaze fixating on your enticing thighs. His pants grew even tighter as he bit his lip.

"How about we extend our little agreement?" he proposed, causing you to smirk.

You couldn't help but wonder just how much Mr. O'Hara had been lusting after you. He seemed rather eager to proceed with his sexual intentions, even extending the time. But regardless of your curiosity, you were more interested in the new terms he proposed, so you nodded, allowing him to continue.

"I know how much you despise my work and my class, Y/N. So how about I guarantee you a passing grade for my class if you meet me here after classes for 15 minutes every other day until the semester is over?"

"So, for the next eight weeks?" you clarified, tapping your nail against his desk.

Mr. O'Hara's breath hitched, and he nodded, responding, "That'll cover the rest of this semester, Y/N."

You swung your legs, mulling over the agreement.

'This offer is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Genetics class is kicking my ass, and this could be the only way to improve my grade… for the rest of the semester too!'

You thought, your eyes meeting Mr. O'Hara's, his stern gaze solely fixed on you. He inquired, "Do you agree, Y/N?

Will you help me help you?"

A smirk gradually spread across your lips, and you nodded. How could you possibly deny him?

The deal was just too good.

"Of course, Mr. O. Who could say no to a great deal like that," you chuckled, hopping off his desk.

Mr. O'Hara was rather surprised by how readily you embraced his bold proposal. His excitement knew no bounds, and he felt no need to conceal his desires any longer. He chuckled, pushing his black spectacles up his nose, and said, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Y/N. Shall we begin?'"

You giggled, biting your lip. "Let's…" Mr. O'Hara's smirk broadened as he gestured for you to come closer. "I want you on your knees." He slid back in his computer chair, making room for you before him.

You smirked at his eagerness, confidently walking over to stand in front of him. Mr. O'Hara's eyes roamed over your entire being, taking you in.

He bit his lip, his pants tightening even more, causing a muffled groan to escape his mouth as he became increasingly turned on. You kneeled before him, looking up to meet his gaze with a teasing smile.

"You are rather naughty, Mr. O'Hara," you teased once more. "Be honest with me, it's just you and me here in this room." You giggled, biting your lip while continuing to gaze up at the large instructor. "How long have you been wanting me, hmm?" You snickered, bringing a scowl to Mr. O'Hara's lips.

He despised your teasing. He had never felt this way about anyone, especially not a student like you, and the way you kept bringing it up was pissing him off.

He roughly started to unbuckle his leather belt, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. The flaps of his black slacks opened, revealing his dark gray boxers underneath. “Stop talking,” he spat, pulling his pants down until they formed a black puddle around his feet. You snickered, tilting your head. “Why? Sensitive topic?"

Mr. O’Hara growled, leaning in closer to your face, his anger radiating from his body due to his close proximity. His amber, almost crimson eyes, covered by his black spectacles, scanned your facial features as his lips turned up into a scowl.

“I didn't give you this extra credit to hear you and your fucking mouth.”

He said with a harsh tone, his voice filled with anger and spite, despite his hidden desires for you.

You looked back at him, completely unfazed, a small laugh escaping your lips. "I know…You want me to please you. To help you…

Release…"

Your tone was seductive, and your eyes roamed over Mr. O'Hara's body. “Isn’t that right, Mr. O?” you purred.

Your seductive tone and suggestive words had a profound effect on Mr. O'Hara. His length under his boxers twitched, and he let out a groan of frustration at how restrictive his briefs were. His gaze remained cold, and his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed locked in place.

He snarled, his eyes reddening behind his frames as he studied your features. "Stop pissing me off and get to work."

He growled, leaning back in his computer chair. "Use that mouth of yours and make it useful for once."

His words caused your nose to scrunch up, and you let out a growl. You shot a piercing glare at Mr. O'Hara, whose gaze remained locked onto you. His fingernail tapped impatiently on the armrest of his chair, his usual scowl etched on his lips.

It infuriated you the way he carried himself with such arrogance, as if he were high and mighty. Yet, here he was, practically begging you for assistance with his sexual desires.

You were determined to shatter that arrogant facade.

To show him who truly held the control in this situation, because it certainly wasn't him.

You smirked up at him, a wicked glint in your eye. "Fine…" You rose up on your knees, moving closer to the center of Mr. O'Hara's thick, muscular thighs.

Even though Mr. O'Hara was staring down at you with his usual unreadable and grim expression, it was evident that your presence had a profound effect on him.

His clothed desire was painfully palpable under his dark gray boxers, straining horribly against the fabric of his pants and showcasing his unmistakable longing for you.

Mr. O'Hara bit his lip, struggling to hold back the low groan that was brewing in his chest as he watched you loop your fingers into the band of his boxers. Assisting you in undressing him, he lifted his hips slightly off the chair, allowing you to pull his briefs down.

You lowered his bottoms just enough to set his hardened and aching member free. His tanned length hastily springing out from its confines.

Mr. O'Hara licked his lips, the mere sight of you on your knees before him only made him want to shove his cock down your throat even more.

You despised Mr. O'Hara, that was a fact, but you couldn't help but regard his cock with a hint of surprise and amazement.

His member was positioned so close to your face that you didn't need to make any effort to get a taste of it. It was fully erect, substantial, and impressively large. You estimated it to be well above average, possibly reaching around 10 inches in length. A prominent vein ran along the underside of his tanned member, leading to a tinted reddish-brown tip that glistened with pre-cum.

You had to give Mr. O'Hara props…

He surprised you…

You had heard numerous times from the secret Mr. O'Hara fandoms at your college that the professor was rumored to be well-endowed. However, you dismissed these claims as mere rumors, assuming they were just fantasies for the infatuated admirers of the strict genetics professor to indulge in at night.

But it turned out that the squealing fans might have been onto something after all, because Mr. O'Hara, was indeed,

Packing…

…

..

.

"Are you going to suck it or just gawk at it the whole time?"

You jumped, your eyes snapping up to meet Mr. O'Hara, who held a smug grin on his face.

Mr. O'Hara had been observing you for a while, noticing your eyes as they traveled up and down his length repeatedly. Your mouth was slightly agape, and your eyes were wide with surprise. He couldn't help but feel his ego grow at the sight.

To witness a girl like you, known for your bitchiness, unimpressed demeanor and incessant chatter, not only rendered speechless but genuinely captivated by the sight of his cock, filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride that was beyond comprehension.

You scowled, rolling your eyes at Mr. O'Hara's comment. You gazed up at him from between his legs, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Gawk? I bet you'll like that, huh?" You chuckled, causing Mr. O'Hara to grin.

"Y/N, no need to lie. You like what you see, don't you, chica?" he remarked, his cocky demeanor shining through his words.

Mr. O'Hara was just pissing you the fuck off. He truly believed that he had you salivating over his dick.

"You wish," you snarled, glaring daggers at him from your position on the floor. Mr. O'Hara shook his head, laughing. "Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, Y/N," Mr. O'Hara mocked, leaning in close, his prideful face meeting your infuriated one. He smiled, his annoyingly perfect white, sharp canines peeking out from under his lips.

"You can drop the little bitchy, stubborn act."

He smirked, looking at your kneeled form up and down before meeting your narrowed eyes.

"We both know you are just eager to get a taste…

Just dying for my cock to fill your little mouth up, hmm, chica?"

Your gaze traveled down to his impressively large member and then back up to his taunting eyes. Your fists clenched at your sides, and your teeth ground together harshly.

You'd had enough!

You couldn't believe he'd say something so crude and arrogant.

Your face flushed in anger, your jaw clenching.

"I'm not the one who's so damn aroused they had to bait their student into pleasing them,"

You spat, full of rage, your chest heaving up and down.

"What? Your hand isn't doing the job anymore? Getting tired of using the same hand you use to grade papers to jerk off?"

You laughed, looking him up and down as you shook your head.

"And you sit here, all high and mighty, but how long have you been eyeing me, Professor? Wanting to have your way with me? Wanting to fuck me until your heart's content, hmm?"

You asked with a snicker, your eyes finally taking in Mr. O'Hara's reaction to your outburst, and what you saw made your smirk only broaden. The way Mr. O'Hara's smug grin slowly began to change and distort, turning into red fury, made you feel so satisfied.

His gaze was icy, staring intently down at you; his sharp canines completely revealed, grinding down onto his bottom teeth. He was practically seething.

"What the fuck did you just say to me!?"

Mr. O'Hara stared down at you, his blood boiling.

The nerve of you…

The audacity to say something like that to him.

He was already on the verge of snapping…

His self-control wavering when he came up with the idea to get you to stay after class for you to please him.

His self-control cracking when he actually went through with his plan.

Every cocky, snarky, and sassy remark that you uttered afterward was chipping away at the last bit of self-control he had…

And now…

After those fucking comments you just made…

Self-control was out the damn window…

His breathing was heavy, his nostrils flared, and his grip on the armrests of his chair lethal.

He glared down at the young woman in her early 20s who knelt before him. He didn't see her as a student anymore.

Someone he taught,

Someone he had to be cautious with,

gentle with,

fragile with…

Hell no…

He was blinded by rage and lust. Two horrific combinations…

And he only had one thought in his head…

That he was going to dominate and destroy this mouthy bitch and put her in her place…

A/N: Looks like you might be in for it in Part 3... 😬

Thanks for all the love that you guys have showed for my first post. It really surprised me, so thanks so much everyone!! 💙😊❤️

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[brownald]

I am new to Warhammer but I’m having a lot of fun playing dolls with the Primarchs so here’s a fic I wrote with one of my favorites and one I think is ok!

Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines stomped through the balls of the XIIIth legion’s flagship. Entering the bridge, the light of distant stars reflected in his cerulean eyes. He looked to his bodyguards, two Astartes warriors born from his gene-seed. One stood to his left, another to his right. Their dark blue armor and unmoving stature likened them to brass statues, guarding a man who needed no protection.

“Leave me.” Guilliman said, his voice rumbling with a deep baritone. “I must speak with the Great Khan in peace.” He spoke to neither man before him, but they both heeded his words.

“Yes, Lord Guilliman.” The one to his right nodded. He and his comrade departed the room, boltguns at the ready.

Guilliman sighed, and snapped an unarmored finger. A shimmering blue image of Jagathai Khan appeared before him. The Primarch of the White Scars offered a short bow to his genetic equal; Guilliman returned the gesture. They stared at each other for a moment, neither willing to speak the first word.

Eventually, the Khan coughed. “Care to tell me the meaning of this?” His rough, gravelly voice was muffled from the communicator’s static, but he remained audible so long as the Warp Currents allowed it.

“Of course,” Guilliman blinked. “I’m sure you’re aware of my Legion’s campaign against the Ork Waaagh on Traitis IV?”

Jagathai offered a short nod in response.

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard of the siege forced upon my men in the planet’s capital city.” Guilliman continued, his face unreadable. “Three months we have fought against the greenskin tide, and there is no hope of a reprieve from the Ork horde.”

“I know this,” The Khan interrupted. “This is an issue beyond the concern of my sons, as well as that of mine. You ask for aid?”

“Yes.” Guilliman spoke without a trace of fear in his voice, merely duty.

The Khan furrowed his brow, anger creeping into his voice. “Why? The Imperial fists lie only star systems away, and the consultation of a siege is something Dorn drools at the mouth for. He would drop everything to join your men. Why request our aid, brother?”

“Because, Jagathai, I am not asking for a consultation of the Ultramarines’ siege warfare tactics. I come to you asking for aid in alleviating the stress upon my warriors.”

The Khan raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

“You are the closest Legion to Traitis IV that has the expertise I require. We need Astartes that specialize in hit and run tactics. The Raven Guard are licking their wounds on Terra, and the Warmaster’s duties lie elsewhere. Thus, my request comes to you.”

“You almost make it sound like you have a plan.” Jagathai muttered sarcastically.

“I do.” Guilliman let himself smile. “Would you care to hear it?”

The Khan paused for a moment in pensive silence, considering the offer. “Very well.” He said at last.

Guilliman nodded. “By my calculations, a detachment of your fleet would reach Traitis IV in two day’s time. That gives me the time I need to tell my men of the news. You arrive on Traitis IV, and provoke the Orks into following you into a confrontation. Once they begin to follow you, the White Scars disengage. Then, as they attempt to regroup, continue biting at their heels. My men will join you, fully rested and prepared to exterminate. Then, a combined force of Ultramarines and White Scars purge the threat these Xenos pose once and for all.”

The Great Khan seemed to let a smile creep across his lips. “I’m not appalled by the idea.”

Guilliman blinked. “That is all I ask, brother.”

“A question.”

“Yes?”

The Khan drew a breath. “How much time would your men require in rest? White Scars pride themselves on speed, not stalling.”

“The entire campaign would take 4 days.” Guilliman explained. “The first day is when the White Scars make planetfall and engage the Ork Waaagh. They fight as long as they desire, so long as the Ork attention is properly drawn away from my Ultramarine forces. You disengage at will, and the Orks will follow. That is the first day.”

“Continue.” Jagathai’s voice was dripping with interest.

“The second day is one for my men to rest. Reload their weapons, bury the dead, repair our vehicles. Your men’s only duty will be to strike at the heels of the Orks, keep them fighting, busy, and away from the city. I care not how you do it, only that it is done. I trust you can do that?”

The Khan nodded, eyes widened in childlike excitement.

“Good. The next day is one of planning and logistics.” The Khan cocked his head as Guilliman drew a breath. “Fret not, that job goes to me. Your job is to listen and go where I feel it most important. My men set out, and you drive the Orks towards a position we deem strategically viable. My men arrive at the same time, and come the stroke of midnight we attack. We leave nothing left. That is the result of our final day.”

Jagathai Khan chuckled, a deep throaty laugh that reverberated across the room as if he was in the room with Guilliman.

“You like it?” Roboute asked, already knowing the answer.

“I love it!” Jagathai smiled. “Just one final question.”

Guilliman nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Promise me I reserve the right to bring home the Ork Warboss’s head on a pike.”

“I would not dare take that away from you.”

“Wonderful. I will be there with my fleet in two day’s time.”

“Two days? You are certain you will arrive that quickly?”

The Khan shook his head. “If we are not giving your men their reprieve in two day’s time, you’d might as well have called Mortarion and his sentient walls for aid.” He laughed loudly to himself; Guilliman forced himself to laugh along with him.

Jagathai waved. “See you soon, brother.” With that, the flickering image that had depicted him disappeared with a light gasp, leaving Roboute Guilliman alone in the room once again.

He exhaled, and the weight of the galaxy became apparent on his shoulders once again.

[gggoldfinch]

What *is* the predator in AVP? I know nothing

Anon I’m kissing you rn THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME !!!!!!!! I should mention I had to consult the Xenopedia for a few minor bits of info, like exact numbers, but the rest of this is safely stored within my rancid little brain… which should speak to my level of boundless avp brainrot… (also this post is enormous sorry !!!!!)

Quick rundown of AVP itself for those uninitiated: AVP is the crossover of the Alien and Predator franchises. Although the 2004 and 2007 movies aren’t technically canon to the movie timeline, the crossover is canon to the franchises (along with the Blade Runner universe, believe it or not!) which can be seen in various books, comics, and even easter eggs in the 1981 Predator 2 movie. Basically, the Predators (yautja) hunt the Aliens (xenomorphs) for sport/ as a rite of passage to become adults.

Now onto the Predators!

Culture:

“Predators” are nicknamed that by humans who encounter them, but their species is called “yautja.” They come from the planet Yautja Prime and are a highly advanced/intelligent species, arguably more so than humans. They come from tribe-like communities and value strength and resilience above all else. Their society is matriarchal, and female yautja are significantly larger/ more powerful than the males. It’s widely accepted in-fandom that yautja hunters take trophies (usually skulls) from their prey specifically to present to potential mates, to make themselves appear more desirable and worthy of attention. They’re somewhat mammalian despite their appearance, and participate in village-raising of their young (which are born live). Female yautja have yet to be seen on-screen, but they are featured in a lot of the literature as hunters.

Due to significantly longer lifespans than humans, they reach adulthood/ maturity at around 50-60 years old. Their status of responsibility/ worthiness/ adulthood is basically determined by their ability to successfully hunt and kill xenomorphs (called “kiande amedha” or “hard meat”). Killing a xeno means they are “blooded” (marked) as warriors, and are therefore worthy to hunt as an adult.

Scar (AVP) marking his bio-mask with acidic xenomorph (facehugger) blood after becoming a Blooded warrior:

Physicality:

The yautja actually have a lot of physical variation which I think is really cool. Generally they’re between 7-8 ft tall (roughly 500~ lbs), and very muscular. They can have different skin patterns (i.e. green, red, blackish, etc) and freckles/mottling on their reptilian-like skin.

City Hunter (Predator 2) (left) with red patterning, and Scar (AVP) (right) with freckles!:

There is even genetic variation seen, like with Feral (Prey) and Beserker (Predators 2010), whose facial structures looks vastly different than “regular” yautja. These guys are thought to be subspecies.

Example of Wolf (AVP2) next to Feral (Prey) from the Xenopedia. Feral lacks a substantial forehead crest, facial markings/patterning, and has substantially thinned tresses:

Some have quills along spots where humans grow body hair (eyebrows, abdomen), and all have long fleshy tendrils (usually called tresses or dreads) that grow from the bony crests of their skull. These tresses are sensory organs and bleed when cut. It’s generally thought in-fandom that the tresses are highly sensitive and somewhat equivalent to erogenous zones/ are intended to attract mates. They can vary in length from short (usually no shorter than neck length) to very long (which is seen as more desirable… and yeah I have to agree). They are often decorated with rings and bones.

Scar (AVP) and his gorgeous long tresses:

Additionally, Yautja Prime is a hot-climate planet, and yautja canonically don’t do well in cold weather (as seen in the AVP novel where Scar gets windburn from the Antarctic cold). Their thick hide makes them very impervious to damage, but not unkillable; they are also very hard to outsmart given their high intelligence and advanced technology. However, they seem to have somewhat impaired vision without the use of the infrared lenses of their bio-masks (as well as other light-spectrum filters), which has caused problems for hunters dealing with quick-witted humans before.

Some examples of how the yautja see: regular vision (left), thermal bio-mask vision (middle), ultraviolet bio-mask vision (right):

Hunting & relationship with humans:

They have their own language and writing system. While they communicate predominately with clicks, roars, and growls, and don’t have any lips to really form words, they are capable of replicating human language on occasion. They also use their bio-masks to repeat and string together recorded pieces of human language. Generally, interactions with humans are violent, with humans the ones being hunted, but on occasion humans and yautja have teamed up. The only humans who have canonically been Blooded by yautja have been women, which is awesome.

Yautja have an honor code while hunting that basically goes as follows: only hunt worthy prey, and don’t break the code. There’s lots of interesting facets to the honor code, so I suggest followed that link if you’re actually interested. The yautja who break this honor code are excommunicated, labeled “Bad Blood(s)”, and hunted. It’s not necessarily canon, but they also seem to follow a sort of debt of gratitude code; if a human saves or otherwise helps a yautja, chances are they’ll return the favor of protection— or in the case of Alexa Woods, for saving Scar and killing a xeno, becoming Blooded.

While usually humans fall into the category of “worthy prey” there have been instances of yautja respecting them, and even treating them as equals.

I am incredibly invested in yautja lore and love talking about it. If you’re still curious I could continue talking forever lol

[mai-komagata]

vulcan control meta

Ok, so some theories on vulcans based on last episode (i mean i always had these theories, just nice to see them more explicitly shown). It isn't an issue just of emotional/mental control. Humans can develop emotional and mental control. And i think characters like Amanda and Michael prove humans can do that too. The thing is, Vulcans have much better physiological control over their bodies. I expect much less of their nervous system is autonomic or functions sympathetically. For example: if vulcan spock wants to appear skeptical, he can raise one eyebrow and one eyebrow only. They don't even realize they do it this way. It's just how their muscles work. If human spock wants to display an emotion, his whole face twitches uncontrollably. A lot of that humans can learn to do, they can train themselves to move muscles separately. But I'm guessing that level physiological response comes automatic for vulcans. Likewise, their tone of their voice is likely normally monotone, unless they force it not to be. But muscles, although they might move in groups without thinking, they are still largely voluntary nervous system actions. If a vulcan doesn't want to feel pain, they can just ignore it. Its like they have the pain sensor, they understand it is painful, but if they know it isn't hurting them, they can ignore it. They don't have the same reflex reaction to pain. If they find something arousing, they don't react to it without voluntary control. It is something they turn on voluntarily if it is the right situation. It seems like they can control how their kidneys function, for example as well. If they need food, they don't necessarily experience that as a constellation of disparate symptoms that affect their whole body, either. They know when they are low on fuel and they eat. They can enjoy food just as much (like T'pring's dad clearly does), but they don't have to -- it is another physical stimuli they can detach from. So what is my point here. That vulcans aren't less emotional, or more emotional, or more logical *genetically.* But they control their reactions to stimuli (whether mental or external) voluntarily, in a way human physiology cannot -- I cannot will my vasopressin levels to be different. And their philosophy is a stoic philosophy that views their bodily reactions with detachment. A human can follow a stoic philosophy and practice and learn that detachment. But their physiological reactions are different, and some of these things come as second nature to vulcans. Human spock is a bit like he was drunk (well he also was drunk in one scene). For the first time, he isn't voluntarily in control of all his bodily processes, and used it as an excuse to indulge in that feeling. He doesn't need to learn how humans react to humor and do all those movements to pretend to fit in. they just happen. But he can rally and keep it together if need be, and he could longterm learn that control. But it isn't a better or worse way of living and they aren't better people for it (sometimes it makes them worse). It is just something that societally comes easy to Vulcans b/c of their physiology. That said, ultimately, Vulcans are telepaths. They engage in emotional closeness via telepathic communication, not physical displays, so they can create personal connections in spite of their lack of physical displays. Spock feels disconnected from his mother without his telepathy b/c that is how he has been close to her all his life. That isn't something that can be learnt, but it is a reason michael (and even spock, to a smaller degree) would adapt to live differently when not around vulcans all the time, b/c it would get lonely. Vulcan control isn't *desirable* in a non-telepathic society.

[rinwritesfics]

How (Not) to Heal - Chapter 9

Plot: After being rescued from Mount Tantiss, Crosshair has to figure out how to work with the Batch again - and their new medic. It would be fine if he didn’t start to fall in love with her.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1842

Author’s Note: We're starting to reach the endgame, folks!

Previously - Start Here!

Chapter 9

Crosshair approached Hunter and asked to speak in private with him. They walked out of earshot of the others and Crosshair turned around.

“Don’t send me with Ka’li.”

“Care to explain why?”

Crosshair scowled.

“If you don’t have a legitimate reason, then you need to go.”

“Why?”

“Why not? It’s not a dangerous mission. Why do you not want to go?”

Crosshair grumbled, but it was gibberish.

“Then I take it you will be fine to go with her?”

Crosshair’s cheeks flushed and the scowl deepened.

“Look, I know how you feel. You’ll be fine.”

Crosshair’s heartrate increased. Hunter couldn’t know how he felt when even he couldn’t figure it out… right?

“Know how I feel? And what exactly is it that you think I feel?”

“You feel like you’re being given guard duty. But I think you two just need some bonding time.”

Bonding time was the absolute last thing Crosshair wanted with her right now. If he bonded any more, he was bound to blurt out his feelings for her.

Upon landing, Crosshair still hadn’t gotten out of being voluntold he was accompanying her. An entire mission that he has to be with her? It was his favorite dream and worst nightmare packed together. His teeth gnashed on the toothpick, rolling it around.

Hunter was up to something more than just creating “bonding time,” he just knew it. The barely contained glee in his brother’s eyes was noticeable. “Crosshair will go with you.”

Ka’li smiled uneasily at Crosshair, causing anxiety to gnaw away at his stomach. She didn’t want him to go. “Are you sure?” she asked Hunter.

“It’s a mission that only requires two, and he’s the best fit to go with you. Just try to get back before the storm hits.”

She raised an eyebrow in thought, then nodded. Crosshair rolled his eyes and stuck a toothpick in his mouth.

“Crosshair, would you prefer someone else to come with me?” she asked quietly. He almost dropped his toothpick, scrambling to find the answer most like himself.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Hunter’s eyebrows narrowed at him, but Crosshair didn’t care. Crosshair turned away to gather his gear, letting that cover his thoughts.

Ever since meeting her, he’d only let their relationship be tumultuous at best. Her smile was obnoxious for all of about five seconds before he lost it. How she could handle the things he said to her and throw it back at him, but still be kind was a mystery to him. Sometimes, he’d almost describe her as meek until she’d tell him not to be a di’kut. They might get into an argument, but more and more, he’d been letting her win. There was that one day she genuinely smiled at him and while he tried to fight the tide, he finally gave in and admitted to himself that he was really beginning to like her.

But he didn’t want to do anything about it. It was easier for him to continue as he had been. How was he, a pawn for the military, a genetically ‘desirable’ and enhanced clone, supposed to do anything about it, anyway? He was aging twice as fast, or more, as she was, and she deserved better than an asshole, anyway. No matter how much it hurt to tell himself that.

When he was younger, still going through blinding growing pains, he swore to himself after each fight with the regs that he and his batch would come out on top and that the regs would be in awe. In that dream, he had occasionally included all the ladies flocking to him and a few to his brothers.

It wasn’t the same, now. Most of his reg brothers were gone, strategically and insidiously being picked off from the Imperial Army. Being treated like droids, like property, rather than living, breathing beings. No, it was nowhere near the same now.

And now that she had stepped into his life, there was only one smile he desired every day. Not the flocks he had imagined, but a specific smile. Sometimes, he could coax it out. A genuine, gentle smile. It was the only one he needed.

He hefted his pack onto his back and picked up his bucket, turning to see her out of the corner of his eye. She was just finishing up.

Good. The sooner this mission was over with, the sooner he could release the tension in his shoulders.

When he had focused on her again, she was gone and a tap on his other side got his attention.

“Pack some rations, too?” she asked, holding out a couple ration bars. His favorite flavor, too. He slowly took them from her and stashed them away.

“Thanks….”

“No need to be suspicious. I just didn’t see you walk to the food case.”

Had she been watching him, too? Maybe it was too much to dream for.

Before he could respond, she had turned to Omega, who had popped up behind her.

“Are you sure you don’t need my bow?”

She ruffled the girl’s hair, getting a giggle out of her. “Yeah, Megs, I think I’ll be okay. I have a blaster, but I already have the best sniper in the galaxy to back me up. He won’t let me die. Will you, Crosshair?”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he grumbled.

“See? Your brother will keep me safe and we’ll help the villagers, too. Win-win mission.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll be back soon. In the meantime, don’t get into too much trouble without me.”

“I make no promises.”

“But I do,” Hunter walked in. “The storm is ahead of schedule, according to Tech. You need to hurry.”

“Got it. Onward and forward, Crosshair.”

He shoved his bucket on and grumbled a few things, but took the lead.

She made little to no attempts to start a conversation, much to both his relief and his disappointment.

Maybe she didn’t want to talk to him after all. Maybe she hated him. Maybe, despite returning to his squad, she held him in high contempt for choosing the Empire.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said after about a half hour, startling her, which he immediately regretted.

“I know you don’t like conversation, so I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

So she was considering his preferences. That made him smile, able to hide it behind his bucket.

“But you do.”

“I just want to make this mission as smooth as possible.”

Maybe she did hate him. He eyed a cave to his left, but determined it was too shallow to have something dangerous hiding in it.

“Is something on your mind that’s bugging you?” she asked.

“No,” he bit out harsher than he had intended on.

“Okay.”

A couple more minutes of silence passed, then he sighed, which caught her attention.

“Actually, there is one thing.”

“I’m listening.”

He paused, uncertain how to ask what was on his mind.

She didn’t push him, but she did look at him periodically.

“You must hate me for staying with the Empire.”

She stopped. “What? I don’t hate you. I can’t say I understand your decision, but you left them all the same.”

“Then why do you go out of your way to treat me differently than them when you get the chance?”

“I’m still getting to know you, Crosshair. I only really know what your brothers have told me. Well, what Tech has told me mostly. I had asked him what I needed to know about you and he emphasized you like your space. So, I was making sure you get your space aside from my duties. I wasn’t aware it was going to cause this.” She gestured between the two.

He fell silent a moment, looking at her.

“So, that’s why. I didn’t intend on making you feel excluded.”

“I see.” He thought back to the little touches she gave his brothers and entertained the idea of telling her those would be fine, too, but he didn’t want to seem overeager for her attention. Instead, he turned and kept walking.

“Are you mad?”

He turned back a little. “I just have some things to think about.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then promptly shut it and followed after him.

They got to the village with a couple minutes to spare according to Tech’s last metrological report and she settled right in to treating wounds. Crosshair watched her work and his usual scowl softened. She was so good with people and made them feel important and listened to. Each smile she gave lifted his spirits. He took off his bucket to watch her better than through his narrow visor. The way she cared… he felt a warmth in his heart as she worked.

A local walked up to him and Crosshair pulled his attention from Ka’li. He faced the man, a scowl quickly pulled on his face.

“Your wife is a wonderful healer. We are indebted to you both.” The man bowed his head to Crosshair, catching him off-guard.

“She’s not my wife,” Crosshair snapped, a little louder than he had intended.

“Oh, my apologies. The way you look at her had me mistaken.”

“What way?”

“Like there’s no one else in the galaxy who you admire more. I had that with my beloved, and I hope when we meet again, they will be waiting for me.” The man walked away.

Crosshair blinked, slightly shocked. Was he that transparent about her?

Did she know?

Would she even want to know?

“Crosshair, come in,” Hunter’s voice over the comms broke through his thoughts.

Crosshair left the makeshift room, stepping outside. “Here.”

“The storm is nearly bearing down upon you. You need to try to get out of there in the next couple of minutes.”

“Copy.”

She was nearly done with triage and Crosshair fought himself over pulling her now. Surely, the last couple would be okay if he did. But he knew she would be upset when she was so close. What would the harm be in making her happy and helping them?

Turned out, a lot. The temperature dropped and storm had picked up. What started as light rain turned into howling winds and heavy snow flakes, falling fast enough that between two relatively okay patients, the ground outside was coated and the grass on the path was almost buried.

When she looked up from her last patient, her mouth dropped open.

“Cross, shouldn’t we have left a while ago?”

Happiness bubbled in his chest at the nickname from her. He said quietly, “You would have been upset if we left anyone.”

She blushed. “Maybe. But now we could be in trouble. Snow wasn’t in the original report.”

He relished in the blush she gave him. “We’ll make it.”

“Okay.”

“Go,” said the same man from before. “If you want to get back to your ship, you need to hurry. It will get very bad very quickly.”

Without so much as trying to find the village leader, they ducked out and started back the way they came.

Chapter 10

Tags: @crosshairsbabygurl, @starrylothcat, @thecoffeelorian, @idoubleswearimawriter, @heylosers06, @totesnothere04, @dangraccoon, @the-hexfiles, @jediknightjana, @xxeiraxx

[atimelesslullaby]

There are no Sheikah named Sheik in the Hyrule I know Who are you really, @guideoftime? Is this some kind of trick?

It was wrong.

She knew it was wrong. Zelda, ever since sending Link back in time, could sense that she had created an alternate timeline. Perhaps it was her power to control time itself, but she could sense other planes within the same stream. It gave her the power to traverse said stream, at the cost of magical stamina that was quite high.

Oh, what she'd have given to see Link again. She very much knew, that she had no power over memories. She may have sent him to an alternate timeline, but he'd most surely remember everything that happened. Other than that, Zelda knew nothing of this timeline she'd inadvertently created. She had the power to sense them, that was it.

She was not an omnipotent presence.

Summoning her power over time, Zelda gave into selfishness. A purple aura formed around her entire body, and in a flash, she was gone. Descending from the sky of not just any timeline, but the timeline she created for the Link she knew, things seemed relatively peaceful... though, these were merely the fields.

The wind pulled at her hair, and dress, as she stepped. This Hyrule didn't seem any different than that of her own. Maybe Castle Town was different. The real question was, where could she find Link in this Hyrule? She had to see him again, just one last time.

It was so selfish. Zelda knew that. Maybe she was wrong for giving into selfish desires. Everything she'd done to him had been selfish.

Continuing to step, the woman is halted by a new presence. A familiar presence. A presence that shouldn't have existed. Eyebrows furrowed, Zelda stood her ground when this figure appeared, seemingly out of absolute nowhere.

"...Who are you?"

It made no sense. She didn't sense any piece of the Triforce in him. All the while, the Triforce of Wisdom was still softly glowing from her own right hand. He shouldn't have existed. Sheik was her alter ego. Recessive genetics she could tap into through the power of the Triforce. This was a Hyrule where Ganondorf was gone, how could Sheik exist?

"You are of the Sheikah bloodline, are you not?"

A shake of the head.

"Please, I request that you lead me towards the Sage of Shadow."