#there are times when he'd like to be easier on the eyes

[seitmai]

Sooo many things to say

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Yeah now guess how tired it makes to grow a human from scratch while also being the food source for another one🙄

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

🥰🥰🥰

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."  Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

Say it!!!

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

hahaha fair

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please." You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

He loves being a dad so much 🥹

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way. "Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls." Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

Bradley's excitment for his daughter(s) is so pure 🥹

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

This is just breaking my heart, she has already so much on her plate...

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need." You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

I think I'm gonna throw up🤢

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

Oh no, I just wanna hug her 🥺 (and maybe slap some sense in Bradley)

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?" Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

Oh I have a feeling Nat is gonna my part in slapping some sense into him

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it. "You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked. "What?" "The word dumbass written across your forehead." "Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.  Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup." Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Oh good he is so clueless...also Jake for backup is great because he no matter what will be on BG's side!

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

Nat is just the best🫰🏻

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity. "She wants in your pants," Jake drawled. "Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about. "Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest. Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

Oh god he really doesn't get it 🤦🏻‍♀️

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it. Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well. Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

Halleluja! It got through his thick skull

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

She's so real for that lol

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?" "Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

Jake is jumping on the opportunity to bash Bradley hahah

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?" "Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes. "Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

They are not wrong🤷🏻‍♀️

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?" "Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

Oh he is so fucked when they gang on him like that

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

I love that he loves doing the bedtime routine🥹

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly. "I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

Oh he better start to act like it... I have a bad feeling 🥴

Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.

"Are you ready?"

Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."

You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.

"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks. 

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with." 

Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.

"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.

"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."

He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.

"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.

"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."

He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.

He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring. 

Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."

You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

"It's a girl."

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.

"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."

Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

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

Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.

"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.

But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.

Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite. 

When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.

"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."

You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.

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

Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.

As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."

"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"

Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."

She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."

Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.

"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"

Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"

"Yeah." 

She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.

"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.

"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

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

After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.

He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag. 

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.

"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.

"What?"

"The word dumbass written across your forehead."

He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.

"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place. 

Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."

Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.

"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.

"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.

"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.

"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."

"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.

"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."

Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.

Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.

Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"

Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"

Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.

"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.

Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have? 

"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."

Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.

This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.

Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.

Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.

Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately. 

Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

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

Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[lexirosewrites]

Hiii I don’t usually go here, but I have had a few Disjointed Thoughts(™) for like WEEKS and I finally decided to share on this, the most holy (hole-y, hah) of days, Slick Sunday.

SO. O!Steve, A!Eddie, shocking. Steve is excruciatingly aware that, physically? He’s not really the Ideal Omega, at least by societal standards. Or his parents’ standards. Or his own, if he lets himself think about it too much, but that’s why he simply Does Not Think About It. Emotionally, he’s pretty solid. He absolutely loves his forcibly-adopted, feral, teenage pups. He’s excited to have his own one day, and to have an Alpha who loves him and their pups. He is always taking care of somebody, particularly the people he cares about, and most of the time it’s not even a conscious choice.

Physically, though?

Physically, he’s taller than an omega usually is. He spent so much time doing sports before he presented, and then after to keep up the image. Plus, let's be honest, he's absolutely keeping himself in shape and strong enough to defend/protect his little chosen pack. No matter how he or other people might feel about it, nothing is as important as keeping everyone safe, even after the UD is taken care of.

He and Eddie have been getting close, though. Eddie made enough anti-secondary-gender-roles speeches in school that Steve's pretty sure he won't mind that Steve is more invested in keeping them all safe than playing the part of “good little omega.” He was certainly impressed when Steve had to bite a bat in the Upside Down, and that's not very Omegan. The problem is, Eddie is such a perfect Alpha. Robin always makes a face when he says it, but Steve can feel it in his soul. Eddie is loud, exuberant, fiercely loyal, and protective of anyone who might need it, particularly when he cares about them. He's good with his hands, between his guitars and tinkering with his van when it has a new issue every month. He bickers with Wayne constantly over bills, trying to get his uncle to let him help more, leaving stray bills in Wayne's pockets when he loses the argument.

If Eddie can be such a good Alpha, Steve can try and be a better Omega, just a little. He does tone his more Alpha-like tendencies down a little, just to be safe- doesn't bring up playing sports/working out as much when Eddie's around, asks Eddie to help move things instead of just doing it himself, lets other people grab stuff from high shelves rather than volunteering himself. It seems to be going well, all things considered. He and A!Robin (who knows about the Omega-image issues, but not that he's been playing a bit more of the helpless Omega for Eddie, because she absolutely wouldn't approve) are sure Eddie's going to ask him to start courting any day now, really!!

To hopefully kick-start the process, Steve eagerly volunteers to help Wayne with some manual labor. Something with the siding of the trailer; it won’t be difficult, but it'll be a lot easier with two people. He'd have helped anyway, of course, but he's very aware that Eddie is devoted to his uncle and wants him taken care of. Surely, if there's anything that would outweigh any distaste from the non-Omega-like behavior, it's helping Wayne. The day of, though, he's on a ladder (Wayne is holding the ladder steady; Steve threw a hissy fit when he tried to go up himself), hammering in the last couple nails when Eddie gets home.

Normally, Eddie seems ecstatic to see Steve in any scenario- at one of their houses, after Hellfire to take the kids home, the few times they've passed each other in the grocery store- but when Steve looks over to say hi, he doesn't look… pleased. He actually looks kind of. Angry? Maybe? His eyes are blank, not filled with the warmth he's used to. His mouth is pressed together in a thin line, jaw clenched.

Steve has gotten pretty good at reading Eddie, knows his facial expressions like the back of his hand, but this is new. New and not happy. It makes him self-conscious, make him want to jump off the ladder and go beg forgiveness from his Alpha for whatever he did, but Steve pushes it down. He's got a job to finish, and if that face is directed at him for too long there's a good chance he's going to start whining- or worse, crying. Eddie gets back in his van immediately, though, driving off who knows where. Steve tells himself he was probably just having a bad day, and didn't want company. That's just a thing that happens. Nothing immediately to do with Steve, surely, and Wayne doesn't seem bothered so it's fine. Definitely.

A few days pass, and the party are all at Steve's house. The pups (who are nearly grown, now, but that doesn't stop them from being Steve's Pups, okay?) are mostly in the pool. The technically-adults are enjoying the sun and calling out warnings when the play-fighting gets a little too rough. Steve and Lucas are practicing basketball a few feet away, trying to nail a particular, super impressive move that even Steve can only do with about 40% accuracy. (I don't know basketball, I'm sure something like this has to exist though, right??? Indulge me lol) The two of them have been at it all summer, to better Lucas’ chance of getting varsity next school year.

Then Lucas nails it. Absolutely picture-perfect form, better than even Steve has ever done it. And they go NUTS. Everyone is looking over, confused but generally amused at their antics. Steve is so proud that he doesn't even think about it, just lifts Lucas up so he's sitting on one of Steve's shoulders, so Steve can hold him up with one arm and gesture wildly with the other while parading Lucas around, explaining exactly why this is so impressive to the non-athletes.

Except. Then he happens to look over at Eddie. And it's the face from the other day. Closer now, he can see that Eddie's knuckles are white where they're clenched around his beer bottle. Steve still can't get a read on it, and Eddie hasn't been in the pool yet so the scent blocker is keeping Steve from being able to tell what's the matter. Again, Steve's first instinct is to figure out what he did, how he can be better. But this is Eddie. He's probably just bitter about a sports thing interrupting whatever nerd conversation he was probably having, and he'll get over it quickly. Besides, Lucas deserves his moment.

Eddie is fine the rest of the night, and it doesn't come up, so Steve manages to mostly forget about it. But a week or two later, Steve is dropping Max off at home after physical therapy, and she's clearly too tired and exhausted for the stairs but she'll never admit it. Steve moves slowly, telegraphing his intentions as obviously as he can to give her an out, but she doesn't take it. So he picks her up, gently as possible, and carries her up the steps, grabbing her crutches as well.

He doesn't push it, even if his Omega would be thrilled to bring her in and make sure she gets settled and drinks some water, because it'd make her uncomfortable and this is already a lot. They don't talk about it, they just say their goodbyes and Steve goes to drive home. He glances over at the Munson's trailer, purely out of habit, and in the window is Eddie. With the same facial expression as before. He turns away from the window before Steve can react, and the curtain is pulled.

Steve has the whole way home to question this, and the only similarity between the two events that could have caused that face is… Steve being too Alpha-like. The manual labor, carrying the pups around. He's too strong, too big. He's not a good Omega, and his Alph- Eddie, who isn't his Alpha yet and maybe now never will be- Eddie doesn't like it. He drops. Hard. He's not sure how he makes it back to his house, or inside. The next thing he knows, he's sitting next to the phone, Robin's voice coming distant but frantic from where it's dangling by the cord next to him.

Then she's there, in front of him. Worried, clearly, but Steve can't bring himself to do anything about it. He just stares. Time passes, clearly, because at some point he finds himself in his own bed, nest haphazarly built up around him where someone presumably tried to make it bigger without disturbing anything, staring blankly at the ceiling with Robin pressed against him.

His face is wet.

His eyes hurt.

Oh. He's been crying.

He remembers why.

His breath catches, and it's enough to get Robin's attention. She scrambles up, holding his face while she takes exaggerated breaths. He matches her breathing until he's sure they're past the risk of hyperventilating. He tells her everything- not just the times Eddie has seemed upset, but every time he's tried to be better, to be less, every time he's questioned if it would ever be enough. She clearly wants to comment, but she lets him get it all out first. When it's clear he's done, she bundles him in her arms. Calls him a dingus, so he'll crack a smile. They slowly transfer back down the stairs, curling up in a mass of limbs in front of the tv to watch whatever they can find without getting up.

Steve drives her home around midnight, knowing she has work tomorrow and he's got the day off. He swears he's fine, that he'll call if something changes. He waves her off, drives away, and heads in the opposite direction of home. He's okay for now, but if he goes home, he'll think about how empty it is, how he may never have an Alpha to help him fill the space and the quiet, and he won't be okay for long.

He ends up at the quarry. Still quiet, and he's still alone, but at least it's intentional here. He's not exactly watching the clock, but he's only idly thrown a handful of rocks down into the water when he hears a noise he could pick out anywhere. Eddie's van is pulling up, faster even than the ridiculous speeds he usually does. The gravel flies up as he slams on breaks, and the headlights are still fading out when Eddie throws himself out the door.

He hurries towards Steve, and when he's close enough, he drops to his knees. Steve tries to ask, tries to pull him up because that can't be good for Eddie's knees, especially when he's clearly in his pajamas and some untied shoes but Eddie grabs his hand and holds it in both of his own. Trips over his words as he tries to explain, rambles that Robin had called him after she got home, that Eddie had immediately run out the door, went to the house first and then drove around to find Steve.

Steve can feel the shame heating his cheeks, prickling in his gut. He's already mentally cursing Robin's overprotective nature. Of course she'd immediately tried to defend him. She'd probably told Eddie off, something embarrassing about leading him on or believing too much in gender roles despite his own nonconformity or whatever else. Steve tries to pull his hand away, but Eddie's got a firm grip and pleading eyes, and Steve's Omega is too desperate for some approval after his drop earlier to try too hard.

Eddie looks like he's tearing up, and Steve is too caught off guard by this whole thing to hold back the whine it pulls out of him. Even if he's hurt, seeing Eddie upset almost hurts his Omega more than anything else. Eddie's eyes go wide, and he surges to his feet, pressing Steve's hand to his chest and letting a reassuring rumble answer. Steve hates himself a little bit for how much it does calm him down.

Eddie rushes to explain. He's in love with Steve. He thinks Steve's easily the best Omega he's ever met, loves how much he cares for the people around him and protects their pups (Steve tries valiantly to ignore how his heart skips a beat at it being THEIR pups. He fails). The face Steve has been seeing has been Eddie straining to keep his Alpha from begging to bond with Steve on sight. Eddie wanted to court him, wanted to take it slow and romance him and do things properly because Steve deserves it, not ask Steve to have his babies in front of all their friends.

He's been waiting to ask, has been making Steve his own battle jacket since he'd liked Eddie's in the Upside Down as a first courting gift. Apparently, tracking down patches for artists Steve likes is a lot harder than finding patches for Eddie's favorites, and hand-sewing them all on has taken even longer. It's everything Steve could have ever hoped to want and so much more, and Eddie's not wearing any scent blockers, so underneath the heady smell of leather and comfort and Eddie, Steve can tell he's being honest.

The misunderstandings are forgiven. They start courting immediately, and Eddie gives him his own vest to wear as an IOU until Steve's is done. Robin is very mildly scolded for spilling Steve's business, which is cancelled out by the grin on Steve's face as he does it and the hug she tackles him in immediately after says she doesn't regret a thing. It's okay, though. Neither does Steve.

-irrelevantbutembarrassing

chomping on insecure omega Steve because he’s so biteable💕

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Love brings its fair share of sweetness and desire. Headcanons for the companions, on the occasions that Tav charms them quite thoroughly.

Featuring: Headcanons for Tav/Reader x Halsin, Tav x Gale, Tav x Karlach and Tav x Astarion.

Contents: Romance, humour, suggestive language.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Here I am readers, with more companion romance headcanons. They just keep coming. I am cringey. I embrace it.)

Halsin

"There, more to your left. Yes, that. Careful now. The footing's slippery, this hour of morning."

Elated, you placed your prize in your small satchel. The medicinal moss Halsin had taught you to identify and harvest would work wonders in creating more potent healing draughts.

Yes, they were found in the rather treacherous upper branches of the trees in this particular forest, but the hazard was well worth the -

Your triumph morphed within seconds to a sickening lurch in the stomach region, your foot sliding precariously along the branch you were perched on. You let out a decidedly undignified yelp as you struggled to find purchase and failed.

Halsin was shouting something up at you from where he stood at the base of the tree. Fingers scrabbling for a crevice, you managed, somehow, to cast an almost bungled spell of feather fall before you tumbled down through the foliage.

The effects of the spell took hold, not quite as effective as you'd hoped, somewhat slowing your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable hard stop, only to find your shoulders and knees caught by a pair of the sturdiest arms you'd ever had the delight of reclining in.

Halsin offered you a reprimanding look.

"Didnt you hear me? I said I'd catch you."

"Ah ... well. Panic had me for a moment there."

The breadth of his chest against your side was warm, heavenly, on the verge of overwhelming. He shifted slightly, his expression turning amused when you showed no signs of wanting to get down.

"Am I to carry you back to camp then? While your delicate nerves recover?"

Amusement now foremost, you pressed a spontaneous kiss to his cheek, inhaling the scent of sunlight on grass, the fresh earthiness of meadowsweet in his hair.

Pulling away, you saw how the light dappled his skin in motley splendor, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the slightly rougher patches of skin from long exposure to sun and wind.

Tracing a finger over the line of his jaw, you wondered at how the weathering of time and the elements could carve, with such grace, the story of a life well-lived.

"Carry me? Why, yes, that would be most welcome. Of course, you could change to a ... larger form if you wanted to make things easier."

You could feel the quiver of laughter, and the suppression of it as he pretended to consider your proposal.

"Hmm. I take it you refer to the boar? I'm not so sure that you'd find a comfortable seat on my back."

"I clearly wasn't referring to the boar."

"Ah."

He nodded sagely.

"The bear, eh?"

"Nothing else but the bear."

"You're rather ... enamoured of the bear, I take it?"

"I could be persuaded to admit it."

"Well, today won't be the day I persuade you with any other form. Rather ... "

Before you had a chance to protest, he'd tossed you gently over his shoulder, one large hand coming to rest your behind. He patted you firmly.

"Now this is fairly easy."

"Halsin, please - "

"You don't want to be carried? You were quite eager a minute ago."

"Well, yes, in a position that leaves my dignity intact."

He turned slightly, allowing you to see his mischievous smile.

"Ah. Dignity. Quite like clothes. We can do without them at times, don't you think?"

Gale

"Is there something on my face?"

You glanced up teasingly, taking in his slightly flustered expression. Gale lowered the tome he had been 'absorbed' in, clearing his throat. Gods, you loved when he was visibly collecting himself. He didn't quite meet your gaze.

"No, not at all. But sometimes ... reading the countenance of someone dear to you is ... slightly more fascinating than academic pursuits."

Leaning back in your seat, you folded your arms.

"Gale. I never thought the day would come when you - "

"Please don't."

Mouth twitching in silent mirth, you take mercy on him.

"Fine. But you know, if you do want to perform a more ... thorough reading of my countenance, you're most welcome."

He set down his book with an audible thump.

"Ah. Hmm. That's very - "

"Oh, Gods below."

Standing abruptly, you leaned across the table and hoisted him toward you by the collar. The surprised huff that escaped him blew warm across your face, before you tugged him against you, lips moving firmly over his.

It doesn't take him long to find his confidence. It never does, once things have been initiated. Soon, you're the one being pulled forward across the wooden surface, sliding slightly awkwardly into his embrace.

Breaking away long enough to register that you are now practically on top of him, you glance down at the book, teetering precariously on the edge. 

"Gale, it's going to fall off the - "

The breath is abruptly knocked from your lungs as he draws you even closer, disregarding your warning entirely. The scrape of his beard against your lips, your chin, your neck, is intoxicating.

"Gale, wait - "

He hums, voice suddenly pitched lower, and you're reminded immediately of rainy days, closeted in his tower, your body arched beneath the lowering curve of his.

In spite of this highly distracting thought, the fate of the book nags at your mind. If anything, Gale was certainly rubbing off on you.

"The book - "

"I've got it."

"Where?"

Pressing lightly on his shoulders you glance around. The book had indeed fallen ... into the grasp of a ghostly hand, its outline barely visible, shimmering faintly.

The corner of Gale's mouth curved.

"Right there. Just so you know, I've written a dissertation on all the potential uses of the mage hand. Would you like me to demonstrate the parts that didn't make it to publication?"

Karlach

For a woman who embodied all that was vibrant and good-natured in the world, Karlach was certainly skilled at playing you like the proverbial fiddle when she put her mind to it.

Sometimes, you wondered whether she'd been taking tips from Astarion, but the manner by which she applied her charm was far too spontaneous to have originated from any advice he could have provided.

After it had been established that you were together, she'd made a habit of turning your cheeks a decidedly duskier shade whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Just yesterday, you'd gone out to collect firewood and she'd insisted on accompanying you. She'd selected suitable trees, lopping off branches with practiced strokes, muscles bunching and coiling as she swung the huge weapon with breathtakingly effortless ease. It didn't help that you'd been caught staring and she'd shot you a cheery wink.

This woman would be the death of you.

Today, it was the wagon.

Halsin had roped in some of his contacts in the locality to trade with you on occasion. These were trusted allies of his, and could be given the location of your camp without much worry.

The road getting here was rough going, though, and by the time the wagon of goods had trundled in, the wheels were decidedly worse for wear. As a gesture of goodwill, your companions had volunteered to replace them, Karlach eagerly taking the lead.

At first, you'd put it down to her ever-present desire to be of as much use to others as she could. When, however, she'd shrugged off her tunic, limbered up as if about to jump into battle and shot you a tell-tale glance before she lifted the cart right off the ground so that Wyll could slip the wheel off and replace it, you knew you were done for.

Feet braced, the tendons of neck and arms standing out, Karlach lifted her lambent eyes to yours and shot you that easy, charming grin, the one that had all too often haunted your more ... impure thoughts.

Oh, she was in for it. Two could play at that game.

Approaching the cart, you casually made your rounds, before sauntering over to her. Karlach's grin had grown noticeably wider with your proximity.

Stopping right beside her, you kept your gaze on the wheel change while your fingers danced lightly up the inside of her elbow. The wagon lurched a little and Wyll cleared his throat in warning.

Appearing the very vision of innocence, you smiled up at her, your touch inching further in, curling around her bicep. Heat flared to life beneath your delicate exploration.

"You really are something, Karlach. No wonder lifting me is such a breeze for you."

The comment was fully loaded with intent. The last time Karlach had lifted you had been  against the door of a room in an inn, and the circumstances had been ... less than chaste.

Glancing up, you saw that she was no longer smiling. She was now giving you that look, the soft, kindling, fire-bright sweetness that told you all too well that you'd better seek out some private nook, and soon.

Wyll cleared his throat.

"Karlach? The wagons tilting again."

"Eh? Oh, sorry."

Her head snapped forward and you took the opportunity to raise yourself slightly higher on your toes, pressing your lips, swift and intimate, to the corner of hers.

"See you later, soldier."

And by the Gods, did you feel her gaze scorch along your back as you strode away.

Astarion

You still had no idea why you'd agreed to this. You knew how it played out, every time, and yet, here you were, being positively demolished at game night with Astarion.

Since committing himself to you fully after Cazador's defeat, the proverbial floodgates of Astarion's long-suppressed nature had been dashed open.

He hid notes containing badly composed romantic poetry all over the camp for you to find, flung himself dramatically into your lap after a hard days grind, conspired with Scratch to hide your boots, sang loud, bawdy love songs with your name inserted when he helped with the washing up and forced you to wear matching colours when you went out into the city together.

He was lovely, your rogue who'd worn a thousand faces, but now he had regained so much more of himself. And as much as you appreciated every inch of him, he was a handful.

Especially on occasions like tonight.

You scrubbed a hand through your hair in frustration, shooting him an accusatory glance over the game board where your pieces told the sad, sad story of repeated defeat.

He examined his fingernails.

You growled.

"I told you that you weren't allowed to cheat."

"Cheating? Me?"

His artfully startled expression quickly morphed to one of mischievous glee.

"All right. Maybe I am. A little."

"Astarion."

"My dove, consider it training, of a kind."

"Training?"

"I'm exceptionally skilled at sleight of hand. If you can learn to keep up with me, then it'll take a fantastic rogue to pull one over you."

He spread his hands and leaned back in his chair, infuriatingly handsome (and smug) as ever.  

"Besides, you're so pretty when you're ... frustrated. Reminds me of how you mewl when I - "

"I have never mewled. Or made any sound close to that."

"I beg to differ."

Your eyes dropped to the board, considering your next move, when something occurred to you.

Astarion had always been the one to fluster and flatter with his honeyed words in the past, none of which had been truly sincere.

Now though ...

If the kindling of his heart had showed you anything, it was that even he could be susceptible to the charms of someone he truly cared for.

You decided to put it to the test.

Drumming your fingers on the table top, you nodded slowly.

"I agree with you on one thing, at least. You are very skilled at sleight of hand."

He opened his mouth to reply, confidence in the set of his smirk, but you interrupted him.

"Similarly, I am skilled at certain things. Maybe even more so than you."

Oh, now you did have his attention. He paused and arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I won't argue with that. But ... what skills are you speaking of, exactly?"

You briefly lifted your eyes from the game board, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

"I'm a ranger by profession, a hunter through and through. Once I set my sights on a target, there's no getting away."

He was leaning forward now, intrigued.

"Hmm. I've seen that, yes."

"And even though I knew you were not all you appeared to be when we first met, I did set my sights on you."

Nonchalantly, you threw the thought out before returning to the game, offering no further elaboration. Astarion shifted in his seat slightly. You held in your smile.

Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"What do you mean by ... set your sights on me?"

You glanced up, earnestly taking him in.

"I knew you were special, I suppose. My instinct told me so. I learned your scent, as well as you knew mine. I learned your gait so that I always knew where you were, even in the dark. I noticed how you styled your hair, because it told me the kind of mood you were in that day. I studied your drinking patterns, so that I could offer you my blood before you grew truly hungry."

Astarion's eyes were widening slowly. You pretended not to notice as you continued.

"Oh yes. There were many things. Most of all, though ... "

And here you placed a hand gently under his chin, tilting his head to admire him better in the dim light of the camp lantern.

"I learned that you like your name on my tongue, in all its variations."

His voice was positively faint now.

"Variations?"

You offered him a radiant smile, one that drew on every ounce of affection you had for him.

"My sweet star. My unruly nightingale. My beautiful shadow. My bewitching blade dancer. I'll praise you in every form."

And there it was.

Maybe it was only possible due to the fact that he had fed on you a short while before, but the faintest of russet hues, delicate and fleeting, had appeared on the elegant bridge of his nose. You smiled, pressing your lips gently to the tip of it.

"Shall we say I win tonight?"

He let out a shaky breath.

"The victory is yours, my darling."

[sugarcubeindulgent]

being in a relationship with bill dickey.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. toxic behavior. possessiveness. insecurities. misogyny. sexism. fluff. noncon/dubcon themes. suggestive content.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ wants to know where you are and who you are with constantly. but he'll get irritated if you ask where he's going or who he'll be with. he'd say something mean like "use your fucking head." in response.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ constantly projects his insecurities onto you. any bout of insecurity will make him violent and volatile. if you stay out longer than promised he'd call you forty times in a ten minute span and spam you with messages. the moment you try to text back or call him, oops! you're blocked.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he will not wear a condom. period. the birth control is all on you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ buys whatever scent you use so he can spray it on his pillow and in his blankets, it helps him sleep better.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ has an odd thing where he likes to watch you eat. i can't explain it and neither could he.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ loves to buy you candies. gives you a lot of "i thought of you" gifts. loads of burned CD's despite his hate of music.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ drinks whenever he's mad at you. despite being a miserable man he can never handle seeing you cry, when he's drunk he can handle it just well which means more insults and personal hits.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ likes to go shopping with you but would never admit it. you ask his opinion and he'd comment on having a penis so how would he know?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ always sleeps better when you're with him.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ will not let you have male friends. not even if they're gay.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ if you have an ailment (dry eyes, asthma, allergies, etc.) he'd carry around something to make it easier. (eye drops, pills, an extra inhaler, etc.)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he cannot tell you he loves you, even if he does the words will never ever leave his mouth to you. not when you can hear it or register it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sex will make him forgive you for anything. you could burn every comic book he owns but if you let him do whatever he wants to you or do whatever he asks of you - all is forgiven.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ tries to shower more often + have some semblance of hygiene for you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ hits things when you're arguing. he 100% knows what he's doing when he hits things and throws stuff in your direction.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ apologizes for anything and everything by simply acting like nothing happened. confront him about it and a new argument will start.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ actually takes an interest in your hobbies and interests. he will make fun of them though, especially if they're feminine-oriented in any capacity.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ doesn't defend you when the guys objectify you. will only speak up if they remark about you being out of his league or him not being enough for you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ if he's sober during an argument and you cry, he's not taking back anything but he's very uncomfortable and guilty. will usually try to hug you or something as if that makes everything better.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ needs constant reassurance and even then it wouldn't be enough.

[rainytapestry]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★ㅤㅤi love you, im sorry ㅤ ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

summary. two oblivious friends and the 3 words left unspoken.

aka inspired from the prompt “you’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?” “i don’t think i can…” by @novelbear

pairing. jake x f!readerㅤ

wc. 2k

genre. fluff , crush to friends to lovers , college au , (mutual?)pining , jake is just dumb , hee is a brat(affectionate) , jealousy(??) , apparent one sided crush

warnings. profanity , not proof read , crusty aah writing , fries dipped in coke , drinking (like once)

notes. hi this is my first work on this account and i havent written anything in almost a year lmao so pls bear w me :"3 this was a word vomit and i have no idea what i yapped in the ending so :D!? happy reading ^0^

‘So, how’s it going with him?’ Jake asks as he places his lunch tray beside yours at the college cafeteria. You look up from your phone to meet his hopeful eyes, ‘who…?’ ‘Omg, Y/N, your crush!? You’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?’

You almost choke on your coffee, from when did Jake have such an interest in your so-called crush. The “mystery guy” as your friend group likes to call him. Little did they know that the boy in question was sitting right beside you and yeah, it wouldn’t be the wisest decision to let that out.

‘I… don’t think I can’, you answered hesitantly, that was the closest to the truth you could give Jake and you hated lying to your friend, especially when feelings were involved, feelings involving… him.

Maybe if you weren’t so close with him, it would have been easier to handle the overwhelming urge to confess to him, hold his hand and softly kiss his cheek. But life was definitely playing a cruel joke on you when your small hallway crush turned out to be your seatmate in freshman year, two years ago.

It was almost impossible not to be friends with Jake from then on. You found yourself talking to each other in class, which eventually led to exchanging numbers and the rest was history. He had this inborn kindness in him, which perfectly complemented his pretty face, the happiness that radiated off him was quite infectious. And with each day that you got to know him, you fell a little more in love with him.

'C'mon Y/N, it's worth a try plus most chances are he'd like you back, right?' you dont, Jake. 'Plus, I'm always here in case of any help. I know our friends may keep making jokes on it but I totally understand you', he ends with a small shy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, you don't know why.

But you want to scream at his face STOP! Stop making it so hard for me to move on, Jake. Instead you return his smile, or at least you try, before quickly stuffing your face with your lunch, making it impossible for him to continue the previous conversation. Talk about healthy coping mechanisms...?

The slip up had just been a drunken mistake. It was one of those stupid drinking games Yunjin had roped you into and soon enough, you were mildly intoxicated or just way too lovesick to admit to your crush. You couldn't ignore the bitterness in your stomach every time a girl approached Jake at the party.

‘Okay, Y/N, drink up if you like someone present here’, Sunghoon passed you a mischievous smirk, which oddly enraged you, or maybe it was the alcohol already in your system. Before you knew it, you were drowning down the cup in your hand, gripping it tightly as if that’ll give you an ounce of strength. You gave one glimpse at Jake who had a concerned expression on his face.

Someone else, probably Yunjin, excitedly asked, ‘Omg who?! And how do I not know?’

Since then it has been a challenge in your friend group to “search” for him if they ever felt bored. You wonder who else can ever attract such an unemployed friend group, it is honestly a bit funny to see them try.

Your train of thoughts is broken when you feel someone sitting beside you, it’s Heeseung. ‘You know, staring at him from afar won’t do any good’, he shrugs. Alarmed, you look at him motioning towards where Jake is currently playing on the football field. You often find yourself sitting at the bleachers, after class waiting for him.

‘Hey! What d-do you mean?!’ you sputter, totally caught off guard at his words. How does Heeseung even know? No, how can he even get the slightest idea that you like Jake? You thought your masking skills were actually pretty good.

The boy gave you a small chuckle, 'you really think you are very sneaky and nonchalant about your crush don’t you? I’m surprised how our friends and even Jake haven't caught up to it.’

This little shit. You hit him with one of your books. ‘Woah, stop, at least I haven’t exposed you in front of them!’ He raises his hands in defense.

Well, he does have a point. He could have won whatever bet your friends had going on you, but he didn’t. ‘Okay, fine, thank you Heeseung for your kind gracious favour’, you roll your eyes at him. ‘That’s more like it, brat.’ You stick out your tongue in return.

You rest your back on the bench, your eyes naturally following the brunette as he scores another goal, a small smile tugging at your face. ‘But in all honesty, I think there’s a hole on Jake’s back with the entire staring contest you have going on.’ ‘fuck off if you can’t help.’

Heeseung sighs, ‘the only advice for this is for you to confess, a relationship isn't gonna form itself.’ ‘He’s my friend, do you see everything on the line?’ ‘And do you see that he could possibly like you back?’ he raises his eyebrows.

Yeah, the false hope, being delusional did not seem like a fun choice right now. You would have pushed Heeseung out of the bleachers if it weren’t for Jake running towards both of you, a weird look on his face, ‘Why are my two friends strangling each other?’ he yells over the stands. Heeseung ruffles your hair, ‘Friendly banter! By the way, you two want to grab dinner with me? His practice is almost over too.’

Something in your gut tells you that Heeseung may be up to no good and the shit eating grin that follows his requests, probably confirms your suspicions.

But Jake beats you to the reply, ‘Of course, I’m kinda starving. I need my extra fries.’

Something shifts in the air once the three of you are out of the campus. For starters, Heeseung finds it very funny to annoy you and Jake has this distant look on his face from earlier. He’s also very quiet and Jake is never silent, especially with Heeseung.

Once you enter the restaurant, you and Jake take your places in a corner booth. You sit across from him. ‘Hey, was everything okay at uni? You seem down.’ He finally makes eye contact with you, you have no idea why he refused to meet your eyes before, ‘Yes, Y/N, just a little tired.’ He retreats back to his previous positions.

You nod, not convinced with his explanation when a thought comes up. Did he… hear you both?! Nonono, he can’t! You’ll be beyond cooked and losing a close friend must not be a nice feeling. Yeah, he most definitely did but you cannot lose your shit in public so you try distracting yourself. You nervously look around, hoping for Heeseung, who was at the counter, to finally come and break the silence.

Goodness, this thick uncomfortable silence or is it the greasy smell of fast food oil? No, it is definitely the silence between the both of you which is really unheard of in your relation.

You finally see a figure approaching, balancing the three orders, and a small grin on his face. ‘Here we go, people.’ he takes a seat beside you and Heeseung doesn’t miss the subtle change in Jake’s expression, smirking at the latter.

‘Omg, Y/N, you should try the fries dipped in coke.’ ‘you are fucking disgusting, Lee Heeseung, get away from me’, you scrunch your nose in disgust but not before the boy pushes some soaked fries at your direction, making you gag.

Seeing the exchange, Jake hastily picks up the fry, removing it, and instead replacing it with his normal, not soaked in coke fries. The insult you were about to hurl at Heeseung dies in your throat, looking up at the boy who is back to quietly eating his burger.

What has gotten into him?

'I'm so full', Heeseung stretches walking out of the place into the cool night air. 'Ok then, see yall later, I'll head this way', nodding his head. You bid him goodbye when he mouthes something you're unsure of. go. for. it. before giving sly smirk and walking off.

You stand confused in your place, and realize that Jake has been silent for so long. You turn around to see him already walking down the footpath. You sigh deeply, tired with his weird actions before catching up to him.

'Yah Jake hold up!' he hears your voice call out behind him, stopping on his tracks. You stop your jog, slightly catching your breath. 'No why the hell am I chasing you in the middle of the road? Please drop this act.'

He turns around abruptly, face to face with you and you realize the distance between the both of you, your heart picking up its pace. Jake's face is unreadable, his eyes are closed off and expresionless. You are about to ask another question when he– 'Is Heeseung the one you like?' His eyes seem dead set. Despite yourself, you can't help but break into a chuckle.

Were you reading the situation right? 'Help what?! Not that dumbass, hell no. You know for someone as smart as you, you really are oblivious.' And it all starts to click in, Jake's rough behavior, his distant stares, and the glares he was throwing at Heeseung.

'Are you... jealous?' You ask, trying to peer into his eyes for something... anything. Jake shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, 'It's no problem if you date him obviously, he's good guy, plus I think you look really cute together and I want the best–' 'I like you', you blurt out in middle of Jake's long ramble, freezing in your place.

Did you just–?! No how did you mouth even speak without coordinating with your brain? Your eyes widening in shock, Jake's expression is pretty much the same (oh here goes your friendship) before you see the shift in his face. Shock slowly giving way to a more shy face.

'What...?' 'Um, sorry, I messed it up so bad didn't I?' You may as well confess now that he knows. 'I... have liked you for the longest time, Sim Jaehyun and it is not easy to hide all these feelings when you're standing right here. I know I'll probably mess up our entire friendship but I can't lose you.'

there. here comes the rejection. you shuffle in your feet, resisting the urge to dash in the opposite direction. 'Is this real?' he says instead.

You look up to face him and his face has broken into a bright smile, and suddenly it's hard for you to breath because why are you seeing your crush beaming at you when you just confessed your feelings.

Suddenly you feel a pair of lips on yours, catching you off guard. Oh this cannot be happening. You melt into the kiss immediately, reveling at the feeling. Your rapid heartbeat has stilled, almost in tandem with his.

This kiss is short lived but it leaves you feeling breathless. 'Are we seriously this dumb? I... I like you too', Jake's the one to break the silence, placing a hand on your cheek.

You feel a small flower bloom in your chest at his words. He tugs at your hands, pulling you close, into a hug.

Resting your face at the crook of his neck, you mutter, 'We're in the middle of the road, we should move.' Although the lanes were empty, save for a few passing cars.

'I know but I like it here', Jake says softly and you can almost see the pout forming. Yeah you'd stay this way forever if it meant never letting him go.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated :D

work belongs to @ rainytapestry don't steal

[annasmafroo]

My extremely random ass headcanons on tf2 mercs

Medic has an ex-wife and kids. She absolutely hates his guts but they're both not entirely over each other. Fucker also doesn't pay child support because his ex wife refused it since his ass tried paying it in organs or some shit. He sends his kids gifts on holidays tho. Surprisingly normal wholesome gifts. Doesn't see them often, he'd be lucky to see them at least once a year, not so much because of the beef with his ex-wife but because of his job and him not wanting to have attention on his family because of him.

PYRO IS CHUBBY. I will die on that hill. Soft fat belly and big meaty strong arms. Body hair is dark and rough, very patchy because half of his body is severely burned. One of his eyes is droopy due to facial burns.

I like the Perfume novel I lowkey started projecting a few ideas from there on Pyro. Grenouille was born with something (in his case, the lack of distinct human smell) that instantly put people off and made them afraid or hostile towards him, even as an infant. I HC that Pyro is the same in that matter, only in his case no one really could say what exactly was wrong with him. Violent behavior, pyromania and escapism into "Pyroland" are a result of years of isolation, hostile household and then him being tossed from one institution to another because no one wanted to deal with him until finally spitting him out into the world when he was old enough.

Heavy has a stash of food from USSR. Bagels and cookies and all that stuff. Makes him comfy and think of times when everything was easier and his family was happy. He also drinks tea with milk and dips cookies in it before eating them. Sometimes they soak too much and fall inside the cup...

Heavy would love a big family of his own but he has a dangerous job and mother and sisters to take care of.

Demoman yapped in bars to randos about his job for the Admin while he was totally drunk more often than you think. No one just ever believed him.

Engineer dreams he'd have a daughter. Full on "my lil princess" dreams with him making clockwork toys and stuff. Wouldn't mind a rowdy kid either, toy guns and little clockwork animals would be all hers.

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 Body Swap AU HC Expanded

As requested, I've expanded to the cast of characters, rearranging some from the original. :) I was going to add Pharah and Alex... but I didn't and tbh, those two would not get rounded up into this chaos lmao. this was too hard to figure out but... ii happily did it.... also idk y but in my head, roach is mute or not talkative which we can unpack later so yeah

Based off this post! and this ask!

WC: 1200 Warnings: none

Ghost:

Ghost woke up in Laswell’s body and immediately felt wrong. Everything was too light, too open, too exposed. Her smaller frame felt like it couldn’t hold a shadow, let alone a presence. His usual solid, grounded movements felt jittery.

The face in the mirror was a shock. Sharp lines, piercing eyes—nothing to hide behind. No mask. No armor. Just skin and hair and a fragility he wasn’t used to seeing, let alone feeling. Even standing still felt vulnerable.

It was a far cry from the towering wall he’d been.

He did appreciate that there was no urge to smoke or eat the awful things he puts in his own body. And he respected the hell out of her. And he'd do his best to keep her body healthy, clean, and unbruised. and if it came time to shower, you bet your ass his eyes stay up, as if it were even a question.

Laswell:

Laswell in Nik’s body felt like she’d been dropped into a machine. Everything about him was large—his shoulders stretched further than she expected, and even walking felt like trying to navigate heavy equipment. His hands were rough, oversized things that didn’t feel like they were meant for desk work. Which they weren't.

The height was disorienting. She kept brushing doorframes and misjudging distances, her new longer stride throwing off her usually measured pace. His accent coming with her words we weird, but she found it charming, something oddly familiar.

He was strong. And when the boys started giving her more and more things to lob around and carry, she entertained it. Nik simply asked that she not break him too badly.

Nik:

Nik in Roach’s body felt like a shadow of himself. Everything was too small—his arms, his legs, his hands. He moved without the weight he was used to, every step feeling almost… unfinished.

The silence was the hardest part. Roach didn't speak, now he understood why. He was very able, and could manage short sentences, but otherwise his-Roach's-body refused. It wasn't meant for someone who had a snarky reply to everything.

He eventually took advantage of Roach's agility. He ended up scaring the hell out of Soap and Kyle, to everyone else's delight. Not so bad, then.

Roach:

Roach woke up in Price’s body and felt like he’d been rooted to the ground. Nope. Nope. Nope. Big ol' nope. Everything was heavy—his arms, his legs, even his steps carried more weight than he was used to. His shoulders felt impossibly broad, and his hands, rough and massive, were clumsy at first.

The mustache was a constant presence, an itch he couldn’t ignore. Every time he moved his mouth, he felt it bristling against his lip, teasing him. The hat sat snugly on his head, though, and he found himself very happy wearing it.

He found that words were easier, but still didn't speak. Watching the chaos unfold around him, content with sitting back to rest his now aching legs... Surely Price wasn't that old...

Price:

Price in Rudy’s body felt… small. Not weak, but light in a way that made every motion feel less grounded. His hands were steady, sure, but they lacked the roughness and weight he was used to. His legs carried him with a quickness that didn’t suit his usual deliberate pace, and his smaller frame made him feel like he’d been cut down to size.

His reflection was jarring—clean-cut, almost unassuming. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t him. Rudy's voice was also lighter than Price's, carried in a way that Price's own didn't.

He did force a hat on, happy enough to enjoy the smaller frame that was less battered than his own.

Rudy:

Rudy in Alejandro’s body felt like he was wearing a suit of armor. A warm, gruff suit of armor. Everything about it was broad, loud, commanding. His shoulders filled the room, and his steps carried the kind of weight that turned heads.

It was disorienting. His movements were heavier, and his usually precise, careful gestures felt exaggerated in the bulk of the frame. His reflection was overwhelming—sharp jawline, intense eyes that trapped him in the mirror, a figure that seemed built to lead. It was too much, all at once.

Alejandro:

Alejandro in Gaz’s body felt like someone had stripped away all his power. His arms were too light, his legs too quick, and the smaller frame lacked the presence his own body offered. Every step felt like it carried less weight, and it gnawed at him.

The face in the mirror didn’t help. Gaz’s sharp features and lean build stared back at him, unassuming and calm. It wasn’t a bad face—it just wasn’t his.

Gaz was athletic though, and that athleticism was refreshing. He couldn't help but enjoy that bit, at least a bit. But Spanish coming out of Gaz's body? With Gaz's voice? Oh nonono.

Gaz:

Gaz woke up in Graves’ body, and he hated it immediately. Everything felt too heavy, too stiff. His arms were bulky in a way that made every motion feel slower, less precise. His legs carried him like a tank, deliberate and cumbersome, as if the body itself was built for brute force instead of agility.

The face in the mirror didn’t help. Graves’ sharp, clean-cut features stared back at him, smug even when he wasn’t trying. His shoulders felt wrong, too wide, too squared off, and the Southern twang that came out when he spoke made it all weirder, but he learned to enjoy it quickly. "Anybody fancy a cuppa?" drawn in Grave's southern accent was hilarious.

Egged on by Soap and Ghost, slowly it became comedic gold. He gleefully tormented Graves body by indulging in black pudding, marmite toast, and other “proper” British foods, knowing Graves will hate it. If his taste buds aren't altered forever, Gaz will consider it a mission failure.

Graves:

Graves in Soap’s body felt like someone had crammed him into a sports car—surprisingly way too agile for his liking. Everything moved too quickly. His legs carried him farther than expected, constantly jittering.

The reflection in the mirror was a shock. The mohawk, the sharp lines of Soap’s face, the complete lack of bulk—none of it looked or felt like him. He ran a hand over the hair, feeling its stiff edges, and scowled.

He tried to stand still, to ground himself Soap's frame, but even then, it felt like his own body was mocking him with its lightness. Mocking him with the mohawk. Mocking him with some innocent, childlike look he wasn't used to.

Soap: (no change)

Soap ended up in Ghost’s body, of course. If anyone was going to get stuck in the most inconvenient switch possible, it was him. He realized this about ten seconds after waking up and nearly knocking himself out on the doorframe. Everything was big. His arms? Massive. His legs? Long enough that stairs suddenly felt like a death trap. And don’t even get him started on the shoulders—those things could barely fit through the locker room doorway without scraping the sides.

He wasn’t complaining about the other large part of Simon’s body though.

The mask was its own kind of torture. It clung to his face, hot and suffocating, like it had fused with his skin. He tugged at it a few times before giving up. “How does he even breathe in this thing?” he muttered, his new, gravelly voice startling him every time. Still, he’d respect it and keep it on.

When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he almost jumped out of his skin. Ghost’s mask stared back at him, hollow eyes and that skeletal grin. It wasn’t just eerie—it was downright unsettling. Soap quickly turned away, feeling every inch of the sore, strong body he inhabited.

[sendpseuds]

Oh my god... Mall goth anakin x on-the-verge-of-a-midlife-crisis obiwan... Your Mind

[part one][part two]

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan knows he's already spent far more money than he'd planned. Store after store he's found himself nodding absently in response to every request Korkie makes. The huge wireless headphones he doesn't need. The limited edition sneakers that look identical to the ones already in his closet. The sunglasses all the cool kids are wearing.

Today, Obi-Wan can't seem to say No.

It would be easy to say he's doing it to make his son smile — it's not as if he's above buying a bit of the boy's affection from time to time — but the truth is, it would be far easier to stick to a budget were Obi-Wan's mind not so completely occupied by other things.

Things like leather harnesses and eyebrow scars.

Charcoal rimmed eyes and a teasing smile.

The unavoidable temptation of a shiny silver ring through a perfectly pouting lower lip.

Obi-Wan's cheek still burns where the young man kissed him, close enough to the line of his beard that he's certain the rough hairs must have tickled the soft corner of that painfully pretty mouth.

Had that actually happened?

Had it actually been want he’d seen in that sharp sapphire stare?

Had he actually said those things?

Meant those murmured words?

The questions are a near-constant loop in his head.

Being propositioned for sex is not an entirely foreign concept to Obi-Wan — it was certainly more common in his young and reckless years but he’s been single for a while now and it happens more often than people might think. Nowadays it’s usually, "Wanna get out of here?" from a tipsy patron in a dark dirty bar, or "Which one is yours?" from a single mother rooting for the rival team in the late innings of a high school baseball game.

The last time he was approached like this— with such brazen aggression, such wild open want — the last time a pretty young thing in leather and low-rise jeans cornered Obi-Wan in a dark neon-soaked room he had a fake ID and no clue he was about to become a dad.

"I think I'd rather call you Daddy."

Fucking hell.

"Hey, Dad?"

Obi-Wan needs to physically shake the thoughts from his head before he can look at his son.

His son who, as per usual, is buried in his phone.

"Yes?" Obi-Wan hums expectantly, as if he hasn't been walking around in a daze all day, cocking his head to one side when Korkie clicks off his phone but doesn't move to place it in his pocket.

"You've been really cool today," Korkie replies with a sincerity that hits Obi-Wan right in the chest, his heart squeezing tightly when he meets a pair of eyes that look like a mirror of his own, "and I know we planned to go to Dex's for lunch—"

Then Obi-Wan understands.

"But you have other plans?"

He looks appropriately apologetic.

He looks so much like his mom.

"Soniee just got her license," the teenager explains, holding up his phone as if it's evidence to his claim, his eyes darting away at the mention of his school friend's name, "She wants to celebrate."

"She wants to celebrate, hm?" Obi-Wan can't help but tease, barely resisting the urge to immediately apologize for the part his DNA had in the boy's complete inability to fight the blush creeping down his neck, remembering how endlessly Satine used to tease him, "With you?"

"Not just me," Korkie scoffs, somewhere between annoyed at his father and disappointed that it won't just be him and his crush driving around in the beat up sedan her father has been saving for her ever since he got that big truck he doesn't need, "She said she can pick me up here and drop me off at home later."

Obi-Wan know's that Home does not mean his apartment.

"I should call your mom—"

"I already texted her," Korkie quickly replies, holding up his phone to display the typical response of, "As long as it's alright with your father."

All Obi-Wan sees is the time.

And today, he just can't seem to say No.

"Alright," he agrees with a nod and a slanted smile, "As long as you promise to wear your seatbelt—" Korkie groans and rolls his eyes. Obi-Wan smiles. "And—" he continues loudly, holding up a finger as if to halt any oncoming complaints, "And if you consider spending an extra day or two with me before school starts so we can go up to Qui-Gon's camp."

"Fishing?" Korkie guesses, neither excited nor deterred by the prospect.

"I was actually thinking we could take his old Jeep out for some off-road driving lessons."

"Really!?"

"You can't—"

"I would never tell Mom."

Obi-Wan will tell Satine. He always does.

Sometimes, it's still fun to play the game.

"You're sure this is okay?" Korkie asks once the day's purchases are stuffed inside his new backpack, his tone almost uncomfortably earnest, "I feel bad about skipping lunch."

The kid probably thinks his dad is going to sit in their favorite diner by himself and frown into his french fries while Dex tries to cheer him up with wild stories of far faraway places.

Most times, he would probably be right.

Korkie also thinks no one has called Obi-Wan Daddy since he was seven.

"Get out of here," Obi-Wan insists with a smile, "I've got places to be."

That earns him a laugh.

There's an odd itch at the base of Obi-Wan's skull. One that crawls all the down his spine.

There's a secret in his throat he can't seem to swallow.

There's a low husky voice in the back of his mind counting down to a beautiful boy's thirty-minute lunch break.

"But that's more than enough time isn't it?"

He should leave.

Walk right out to the car and drive to Dex's alone exactly the way his son thinks he will.

"See you later, Dad!"

"Enough time for Daddy to fuck me—"

But, today, Obi-Wan just can't seem to say No.

[part one][part two]

[mitsua]

YA' SCARED?

synopsis: watching a scary movie with them if you're easily scared (0.666k)

🕸 lucifer

Will sigh all the time you're setting up your date idea because why would you want to make himself (yourself) suffer watching those devil-mocking films?

However, if you're pretty sure of watching it he'll have an arm around your shoulders all the time.

Would ask if you'd like to leave it at that whenever you scream or start shivering.

🕸 mammon

Will try his best to disuade you from this terrible idea. Because you won't only be suffering but you'll make him suffer too!

When you give him the alternative to leave you alone to watch it, he'll switch to protective partner and act all mighty and strong for you, though you know better than that.

You'll spend the next hour and a half hugging tightly and screaming so loud the other brothers would want to disconnect the TV for you.

🕸 leviathan

I think he doesn't get scared that much with movies since he's played a lot of videogames genres, including horror and/or gore, so the only thing he might be whimpering for might be the extreme closeness you share when you jump in fright and hug him tighter each time a jumpscare occurs.

Will propose if you want to play a chill videogame for you to be easier to get some sleep after that terrorific hour you spent at the living room.

Overall a pretty good brother to watch them with 10/10

🕸 satan

Horror might come with mistery most times so accepted your date idea right away.

Might be between disgusted by the bloody scenes and so intrigued as to when will the killer or creature will appear he might forget he's watching it with you.

I bet he also tries his best to guess when will the next jumpscare will appear as he senses the atmosphere change and will get it right most of the times—that would be when he turns to tell you his guessing and find you're almost dying out of shock.

Because of this he'll redeem himself by spending the rest of the night reading to you to sleep.

🕸 asmodeus

There's two ways you'll get him to watch a horror movie.

You tell him everyone's been gossiping about it and you wanted to watch it with him, telling him you do not know what it is about.

You beg him for a long time and offer to get as many fashion dates he might want after it.

Be mindful of your ears 'cause those will be the ones that suffer the most of everyone in the living room through the scary scenes.

Will be his excuse to keep squeezing the life out of you even months after watching it.

🕸 beelzebub

It doesn't really matter whatever movie you want to watch with him, however I picture he'd prefer watching a chill one. But since you told him you'd get some trinkets to make the environment spookier and more delicious as the Halloween tradition dictated in your world who would he be to deny such offer?

The biggest reaction you'll get from him might be his eyes widening or stop eating for a few minutes—once he resumes his crunching you'll know he's recovered from the fear.

Has no problem with you bear-hugging his side for as long as you want because he feels he's doing the right thing if holding him close brings you comfort. Although he'd prefer not watching you get so scared...

🕸 belphegor

The worst to watch a horror movie with.

Asides from his incessant mocking all way from you picking out the movie with a frown on your face, to setting up the dark environment while trembling—he might be such an ass to start scaring you in the middle of the movie!

Be careful, get a spray with holy water or whatever to protect yourself from getting way more panicky than the average would be after watching it.

However, your dreams won't be affected by any of those horrifying monsters that appeared every now and then, why would that be?

repost from my @mitsuas-priv account 2024. likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[floralscented]

SOMETHING IN YOUR MOUTH ━ DARYL DIXON x BOLD!READER

18+ CONTENT! daryl told you to be quiet how many times? and yet still, it is so much more fun to push his limits than follow his grunted pleas.

"mmph," you can't even get a proper word out through the fingers shoved between your parted lips, the taste of daryl's salty skin coating the inside of your mouth.

you don't know why he's so insistence of your silence; at this time of night, the prison was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. it was more that obvious what you were getting up to by the sounds of the squeaking bedsprings and the lewd skin slapping noise seeming to echo off of the stone walls.

but daryl was quiet when he wasn't in your orbit. he stuck to his favorite shadows and observed, so used to being on watch that he'd made a home in the silent dark. getting into this thing with you was, probably, the worst and best thing he could have done for himself.

how else could someone express frustration with the loudest person in the group other than to fuck it out of them?

it was inevitable, you thought. the bigger, isolated cells were reserved for the people with dependents, leaving the rest of the group to pair off and suck it up in the other cells, all in the same block as to not lose track and keep a head count. inevitable that you'd end up buried in the sharp springs of the bottom bunk's mattress, because daryl sure as shit wasn't getting on the top bunk to screw you into silence.

"i told you," daryl seethes in your ear, always so quiet even when he yelled, like he was more than aware that he didn't need volume to demand control of something, "to shut the hell up."

you liked getting him angry, though. every time, it got you closer and closer to this: the breaking point. when he'd climbed on the wiry bunks' frame and grabbed you by the face and slammed his mouth against yours. he was strong enough to haul you down from there for easier access.

now, you were both half dressed, and he was ranting and raving in your ear about your silence, ironically making him the loudest in the room.

you open your mouth around his thick fingers to try and tell him as such, but he pushes them down harder on your tongue. "never fuckin' listen," his words are more rasp and gravel than anything, hardly intelligible around the creaking, the deep thrusts enough to make you see stars. you should piss him off more often. you were going to piss him off more often.

his other hand goes to your thigh, lifting it higher up on his waist, giving him all that more access to getting as close to you as he possibly could. your head tips back into the thin, pathetic excuse of a pillow, no more words trying to escape your mouth but pleas of your own. shut the hell up, he pleaded you before. please make me louder, you pleaded him now, without the proper ability to say such.

daryl's thumb digs into the bottom of your jaw, cupping your open mouth in a claw. your saliva is all over his fingers, pooled in the corners of your lips, and yet the only sounds you can get out are the growled, unintelligible ones in your throat.

your hand reaches up to fist at his raggedy shirt, tugging him down closer. there's something wild in his eyes, like this little sense of normalcy, no matter how raunchy, had him gone. being in a world so ruined made the human things seem that much more exotic.

his thrusts are more erratic, and each noise around his fingers is becoming more desperate, more pleading. tears sprig in the corners of your eyes, clenching them tightly to focus on something, anything, that isn't the fact that you want to scream and cry out and can't even hardly utter a proper moan to show for how he breaks you apart and shatters you.

daryl lets go of your mouth suddenly, that hand going to the top bunk's metal frame as he uses his grip on your thigh to sink one last time into you, a guttural groan heaving from is chest. in the end, it's always the man that breaks his own rules.

his face is flushed when he lifts his forehead from the top bunk's frame, leaning beneath the boxspring above him to get a proper look at you. it's always hard to tell when he's blushing or when he's worked up. you think maybe this time it's both.

"you," you manage to choke out through your broken voice, mouth dry and thick from having it pried open for so long, "are a filthy little hypocrite."

daryl's lip quirks in the corner, more of a muscle twitch than a smile. "y'want me t'tell you to shut the hell up again already?"

he doesn't smile properly, but you do. a wide, toothy grin that only turns the pink on his cheeks more vibrant. "if you'll let me scream this time." daryl goes to argue, but you dig your heel into the muscle of his thigh. "only fair. you probably already woke up every damn walker at the gate."

a man of little words is more than likely also a man of many actions. he grabs your other ankle and pulls you closer to the edge of the mattress, and when the bed starts to creak again and you melt into a fit of moans hardly muffled by the scraps of fabric they called blankets here, he doesn't bother trying to shut you up this time.

notes. u let me write when i'm tired and i start acting like a proper slut PLSSS. anyways my venture into another fandom i hope the twd ppl don't bite.

tags. idk if i have any twd girlies in my audience rn but if u are one & want tagged pls lmk. for now special mentions to @deansbeer & @starzify & @frosttbitessam who ik at least have seen it hehehehe

[eyelambspider]

Spider. Eye. Lamb. || COD/Outlast Au

⤷ summary : you and him. together you'll be the ones to make it out of the trials... (drabbles/hcs)

┊pairing : könig, gaz, price x gn!reader ┊content warning : mentions of gore/death/blood, horror, pining(?) finding comfort in each other ┊a/n : ffffffuck! i love the outlast trials! (forgive me i like scary games) also: for god sakes, i'm doing chapters/scenarios for this

▹ König

Its nearly impossible for König to hide while in the Trials. He can't fit into the lockers quickly (or the barrels), so he opts to linger in the darker rooms with the burnt out bulbs.

so. he's usually wearing his night vision goggles or his eyes are adjusting to the dark. leading him to be more anxious and feeling exposed in brightly lit places.

Because of his size, König can break through the wooden boards blocking doorways with one kick if he needs to run.

Other reagents (people) in the sleep-room are afraid of him and tend to stay away. He looks too similar to the Prime Assets in the trials, with the cut up pillowcase over his head... and his height.

it doesn't help his mental health, not talking to much people in the sleep room... but the doctors seem to like him. If not only for his physical build.

sometimes, König comes to the metal door of your room and stands there, unsure how to really ask but- he likes laying with you on your bed. the two of you laying there in each others arms for nothing more than the comfort of being with another person who... knows how scary it is.

König likes to protect you in the Trials, intervening just as the grunts try to bring down their weapons on your prone form by shoving them off violently.

▹ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz is the quietest and is hardly seen by those who roam the halls and rubble-filled streets of the trials.

he always has a lockpick on him, and often uses it to open up medical supplies for himself. always proving to be especially resourceful.

Uses bottles to throw and distract the enemies when he works.

Gaz is one of the braver subjects to be put into the trials, always taking risks and evading the prime assets and enemies by a hair.

Gaz's biggest fear in the trials is that he is too good at it. Trials become easier and easier, but it messes with his head to think that instead of getting this horror show over with as fast as possible-he's actually doing exactly what the doctors want him to do.

Is it just survival... or is Murkoff's twisted form of 'treatment' actually working?

Gaz likes talking to you.

Well, having your company. He doesn't open up about what he thinks and fears. Just sort of... sits with you and chats in the cafeteria during meal times.

And on the shuttles (from the sleep room to the Trials) Gaz likes to sit across from you, even with the TV in front of his face, and the bars on the side of his head (forcing him to watch)... he likes knowing you're right there. Likes reminding you to be angry instead of scared, "Fuck the doctors-remember that-fuck the doctors!"

You actually might be the reason he's still resisting the treatment. He tries to protect you from feeling as... as desperately terrified of becoming what the doctors want.

▹ John Price

Price hates to get paired with you in the Trials. Solely because he'd hate to see you hurt but... "its good to see a friendly face"

Price would do well in his trials, ranking a grade average 'B'.

It would be better, but he despises being apart of these sick games and 'messes up' on purpose.

(When you're afraid in the Trials) Price grabs your shoulders and forces you to look at him, keeping you grounded and giving you something to focus on other than the threat of dying. "Just get the key, alright? Its got a little black star on it. You get it and bring it back here... and we'll both get out of here. Won't let anything bad happen to ya," he assures.

In the sleep-room, Price always tells you to come and play a game of chess with him. "No buts." He knows it will distract the both of you for a while, and if you don't know how to play, he's got all the time to teach you.

(When you don't make it back to the exit) Price always waits for you, has to watch you enter the transport himself to make sure you're okay. And when you don't, he gets antsy, glancing at the red timer above the door that says you have only three minutes... "Fuck," he decides, turning his back on the exit and beginning to run back into the Trial to find you.

he likes taking care of you, gives him something else-something more important-to focus on outside of the trials.

if anyone was getting out of the trials, he'd hoped it'd be you

[slaymitchabernathy]

Fate is Cruel

| tw: attempted suicide (but our girl is not successful) |

Soarynn cries so hard sometimes that she throws up.

There’s a consistent ringing in her ears when she cries, an attempt to muffle out the noises around her, mostly to muffle him out, his voice. Razor sharp, the same as his touch.

There was a time that she thought of Coriolanus Snow as a good, noble man, besotted with her, willing to do whatever it took to protect her. Turns out wolves can easily disguise themselves as sheep, preying on the weakest links or in this case, her.

He didn’t reveal his true colors, his true intentions until they got married. Slipping that ring on her finger was the equivalent of slipping an imaginary noose around her neck.

Sometimes she’d prefer a real noose.

Right now she just wants to disappear so she can escape his verbal abuse, spewing out the nastiest things at her all because she slipped up at a company dinner they both attended tonight. She had been doing so good too, saying all the right things, even making him smile a few times. She remembers when she'd give anything to see him smile.

Now she takes it as a sign that he's not going to yell at her. She knows he'd never hit her, not wanting to risk bruising his most prized possession. Coriolanus loves to show her off, his pretty, young little wife. But he can yell, oh he can yell. He says the meanest things to her, nearly getting off when she cries.

But tonight she messed up, embarrassed him in front of his colleagues and she knew from the look in his eyes that she'd be in for a long night when they got home.

"...stupidest girl I've ever met," he continues barking out, pacing back and forth in his study while she sits in the chair across from his desk, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks. She sits with her hands in her lap, head lowered while she takes everything that he dishes out, it's easier this way rather than trying to reason with him.

After being married for over a year, Soarynn knows how Coriolanus operates. He needs to blow off steam before he can calm down, then he's a bit more reasonable but not by a lot. Soarynn is constantly walking around on eggshells with him, terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing.

She does everything he wants her to do. She dresses the way he likes, talks the way he likes, she even eats the food he likes.

It's still not enough.

"I mean honestly Soarynn, it's like you're just begging to be punished," he snaps, stopping right in front of her, "dumb little girl, can't even carry a decent conversation without humiliating yourself can you?" Her cheeks burn with shame and more tears blur her vision, she was just trying to be nice at dinner, make small talk.

"I'm sorry," she whispers for the hundredth time tonight, "I didn't mean to embarrass you or bring attention to myself." He scoffs, lifting his hand and she flinches involuntarily, Coriolanus has always been an angry man. She remember the first time he truly lashed out at her. It had been over dinner ironically enough, except she had gone out to dinner with her friends and came home too late for his liking.

Coriolanus was just starting to show his true colors, his urge to control and possess her. She tried to reason with him, she stayed home every night with him, this was just a one-time thing, she lost track of time, this would never happen again.

It didn't happen again. Not after he threw his glass cup at her, barely missing her head as it shattered against the wall. Soarynn had been petrified by his aggressive behavior, he tried to hurt her, that was no accident.

He apologized afterward, once she started crying and trembling from fear. She never grew up in a violent household but he did, at least that's what he said while holding her. "My father darling," he had mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "my father was so strict when raising me, he believed in discipline to make me better, make me stronger. I want the same for you, for our future children."

The ring on her finger was a painful reminder that she was stuck with him and would eventually bear his children.

She forgave him that one time.

Then again, and again, and again. There was always a 'next time' for him to lash out at her and she always forgave him.

The forgiving lamb married to the spiteful wolf. Fate can be so cruel sometimes.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn falls asleep with tear-stained cheeks and her husband's arm lazily draped over her side. Her body aches, her core is throbbing in pain. He's always so aggressive in the bedroom after a disagreement. He does it to hurt her, to drive the point home that she will always belong to him.

She sniffles but keeps quiet, she wouldn't want to wake Coriolanus, he'd only grow more angry with her. Sometimes he'll wipe her tears, whisper how it's for her own good, that he does this because he loves her so much, that he wants the best for her, for their family. Soarynn would rather kill herself than have a baby with him.

Kill herself. What a thought.

Soarynn has always heard people throw around the casual threat of ending their lives over meaningless things but this isn't meaningless. She's being abused, mentally, emotionally, sexually.

Wouldn't it be better this way?

The way he acts you think that she was a huge burden for him. Soarynn's father passed away five years ago, leaving her with their family fortune that Coriolanus quickly took over the second they got married, drafting up enough papers so that she couldn't touch a cent of her own family's money.

She has nowhere to go.

Soarynn finally feels herself growing tired, crying always exhausts her but arguing with Coriolanus has a tendency to spike up her adrenaline like an animal being hunted for sport. He loves a hunt though, and he claims to love her despite all he does to her.

Soarynn used to dream about getting married and falling in love.

Now it just feels like a nightmare.

꧁ ꧂

"Stop doing that."

Soarynn immediately stops tapping her foot, his words are harsh and they land on their intended target. "Sorry," she mumbles which earns her another disappointed look from her husband. "And stop mumbling. How many times do I tell you about the mumbling Soarynn? Speak. Up."

A small, minuscule amount of anger bubbles up in her chest. Soarynn had always been soft-spoken. Always. He knew that when he was courting her, when he was engaged to her, when he married her. Why he chooses to nitpick it now is beyond her.

Her eye twitches but she remains silent, forgetting that often actions speak louder than words because he catches the small irritation on her face.

"Something you want to say Soarynn?"

She shakes her head, it was a mistake, she didn't mean it. "No," she says.

"Speak up Soarynn."

"NO!" She shouts, glaring at her husband from across the living room, gripping the armrests of her chair, "No Coriolanus, I have nothing to say to you."

That was the wrong thing to say.

He calmly sets down the newspaper in his hands, they spend their mornings on the weekends relaxing in the living room, he reads the paper, she reads a book. If he weren't so terrible then she'd actually enjoy it.

"Come here Soarynn."

She shakes her head, beginning to tremble in fear. Coriolanus could do so many things to her, ranging from yelling to physically punishing her. She hates them all, hates him.

His eyes flash with anger and he beckons her over with the curl of his index finger, patience thinning, "I'm not asking again," he says, it's an order, not a request. But Soarynn is done being thrown around, treated like she's nothing. She is his wife, he should treat her as such.

"I am not your puppet," she fires back, surprised by how confident she sounds and he is too but it doesn't last long. His lips curl up into a cruel smirk as he rises from his chair, causing her to become frozen in hers. Coriolanus stalks over to her slowly, sizing up his prey, "It seems that last night's lecture wasn't enough for you darling, I suppose you might need a better punishment."

Soarynn fervently shakes her head, "No, no, I'm sorry Coriolanus, I misspoke. It won't happen again I promise."

He looms over her from where he's standing, inches away and she's choking on his air, "You're right," he says quietly, "it won't."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn pounds on the locked doors, choking on her sobs, "Let me out, please let me out!" She hears nothing in response, no rude comments or smug remarks. He locked her in one of the guest rooms, one of the empty guest rooms, no sheets on the bed, no food, nothing but the clothes on her back.

It's dark in here too, cold and scary. She feels like an animal that's been trapped. She tried to change his mind, promised that she'd be better, that she'd never act out again but of course, he had to drive his message home.

He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her down the hallway while she cried, while she begged for forgiveness as if she were the one at fault.

He didn't say how long she'd be in here, he just threw her into the room and shut the doors behind him, trapping her in her own home. Soarynn presses her back against the doors and sinks down to the floor, pressing her hand to her mouth so her sobs are muffled. He won't get the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

She wonders what she did to deserve this, why he hates her so much. She wonders if it really was his father or his childhood in general. She knows that his mother died when he was young, leaving him with his father and his grandmother before she passed away as well.

That's still no excuse to hurt others.

Soarynn sits by the doors for what feels like hours since she has no real concept of time besides the sun shining through the windows. She listens for her husband's footsteps but never hears them, growing colder once the sun starts to set. Soarynn sniffles, rubbing her eyes, maybe there's a blanket in here she can use to keep warm. Still dressed in her nightgown, Soarynn slowly pushes herself onto her feet, padding into the large closet.

It's empty to her dismay, hasn't been touched in years from the looks of it. She crosses into the bathroom through the connecting door, rubbing her arms for some warmth. The bathroom is in the same condition, barren and dusty. She could always draw a warm bath, but the water would cool down eventually and she doesn't have a towel.

Soarynn pokes around the cabinets and finds some old makeup and jewelry. This must've been his grandmother's room, a tomb of remembrance now that she's gone. Soarynn will certainly remember this room but for very different reasons.

She opens the cabinet tucked into the wall and her stormy eyes widen when she sees all sorts of pill bottles. She grabs one out of curiosity, wiping away the dust on the label. The words are faded but the bottle looks old, at least ten years.

And there's a lot of these bottles.

With a lot of pills.

Soarynn would never have it in her to cut her own skin, she's too scared to try that but pills, well, pills she can manage. It all happens so quickly, her unscrewing all the lids, pills scattering across the bathroom counter while she turns on the sink. Soarynn dumps as many pills as she can into her hand, leaning down to gulp down some water. She's been so thirsty since she got locked in here, and now, it's her final drink.

Soarynn swallows down some more water before looking back at her handful of pills, contemplating her rash decision. She could always change her mind, stay in this cold, dark room until he came to get her. But then what? He'll just hurt her again, and again, and again.

No. She'd rather die.

With a shaky breath, Sorynn throws back the pills, swallowing as many as possible before taking another drink of water. It takes her about a minute to swallow all the pills and she immediately starts feeling dizzy. Soarynn whimpers, the realization of what she's done finally hits her the moment it's too late.

She stumbles out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, hoping her husband might be there to save her but the doors are still shut. Soarynn feels bile rising up in her throat and it's coming out of her mouth before she can try to stop it.

She gasps, teetering left and right, seeing black spots in her vision. It's all happening so fast. She tries to make it to the bed but she falls before she can reach it. She hears a crack and then silence.

The last thing Soarynn wonders is how her husband will find her.

꧁ ꧂

Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

What?

Beep.

"How is she, doctor?"

"She's doing well, we caught it just in time but she'll be fine."

No.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Soarynn can hear more beeping, more voices, more nosies. It all comes crashing down on her like ocean waves, rushing into her ears, and suddenly her eyes open, staring up at a tiled ceiling.

A face appears above her, a stranger, she's never met this man before. He has a flashlight in his hand, shining it down into her eyes and she squints up at him, "Looks good," he remarks, "we'll have to run a few more tests."

Soarynn groans, she feels like shit, like she got hit by a car. Her entire body aches and her throat and lips feel dry. She tries to sit up but fails miserably. "Don't try to move, Mrs. Snow," another voice says, female this time. Soarynn looks to her right at a nurse standing at her bedside, a concerned look on her face.

Soarynn's voice is scratchy but she still speaks, "Where...where am I?"

"You're at the hospital Mrs. Snow. Your husband found you at home lying on the floor, unresponsive so he brought you here."

Coriolanus found her, that deadbeat, piece of shit found her and brought her here.

But he's not in the room, she scans the small space quickly and he's nowhere to be seen. Maybe this was the last straw for him, maybe he left her here, left her to be someone else's problem.

Soarynn tries to lift her right hand but she can't. She's restrained to the bed. Soarynn frowns at the shackles and gets a sympathetic look from her nurse, "We know this must be a lot," she says kindly, "and that you've probably been feeling depressed for quite some time but we want you to know that taking your own life is never the right solution. Your husband was devastated when he found you like that."

So he's here.

"He's here? My husband?"

Both the doctor and nurse nod, "Yes, yes he's here, would you like us to go get him for you?"

Soarynn's eyes burn with tears once again. If she wasn't scared of Coriolanus before she tried to kill herself, she's terrified now. He's actually going to kill her.

"No," she cries, pulling on her restraints, "no I don't want to see him, he's going to be so angry, so..." Her voice dies off and the tears begin to run. He's going to make her life a living hell, this was just what he needed, now he can watch her every move on the doctor's orders.

"Let me go get him," the doctor whispers, leaving the room. Soarynn keeps crying, accepting her new damned fate. For the rest of her life, she's going to be in his shackles. "It's okay, he won't be mad at you Mrs. Snow."

Soarynn wants to laugh at this nurse and her comforting words. She doesn't know him like she does, doesn't know how capable he is of being cruel. Before she can even try to tell her anything, the door opens and this time, it's Coriolanus.

Soarynn can see how angry he is behind his carefully curated expression. His eyes are seething with rage. She tried to leave him.

She bursts into tears upon seeing him and he immediately comes to her side, resting a hand on the side of her head to comfort her, "Oh darling," he whispers, looking down at his poor little wife, so depressed she tried to kill herself. "I was so worried about you."

Soarynn is finding it very hard to breathe right now.

"We'll need to keep her overnight for some observations but she'll be able to go home in the morning," her nurse informs him. Coriolanus nods, keeping his eyes trained on Soarynn, "I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he promises.

He means it too.

It's not a promise, it's a threat.

It must sound so sweet and caring from an outsiders perspective, the caring, attenetive Coriolanus Snow. Soarynn sees right through that. He's going to make her life a livng hell.

He finally looks over at the nurse, "You mentioned some mood supressants? I'm sure she'll need anything you can give her once we get back home and settle into a new routine."

Soarynn tunes out the rest of their conversation, muffled in her ears. She knows when Coriolanus leaves because he presses a kiss on her cheek. She knows when the nurse leaves because she turns off the overhead light.

She knows that she hopes she dies in her sleep because fate can be cruel.

꧁ ꧂

It's silent when they get back home.

His grip on her waist is far from possessive, he already owns her, mind, body, and now, soul.

Coriolanus closes the front doors behind them and sighs, they're finally alone, just the two of them. The mask can come off now.

"Part of me wanted to leave you lying there on the ground," he says quietly.

Soarynn sighs, so past caring about anything now, "I wish you did."

They make their way into the kitchen and he has her sit at the breakfast table, so he can keep an eye on her while he makes her something to eat. "From now on you don't go anywhere without me," he says, casually chopping up some strawberries with a knife, "not the bathroom, not the kitchen, not anywhere. I can't afford to have you trying to kill yourself again just because you're upset darling."

Soarynn wants to scream at him, flip over the table, and stab him with the knife he's holding a million times until he bleeds out but she can't. All the anger and grief within her has been suppressed by the pills they gave her, well, gave him. She feels as if she's floating through the clouds, too tired and dazed to truly put up a fight.

Coriolanus thinks what she did was a tantrum, he thinks that she tried to kill herself to piss him off, to send a message. She certainly hoped that finding her dead body would send a message or two but to him, she was acting childish, ungrateful for all he's given her.

"Nod if you understand me Soarynn."

His belittling words manage to spark up something in her, but it's not enough for her to snap back, so she meekly nods her head. Coriolanus grunts, scraping the cut-up berries into a bowl, "Everything I do for you is out of love darling, it's tough love but it's still love. I want what's best for you, for our family."

He walks over to the table, setting the bowl down in front of her, and rests his hand on top of her head, "Now, I want you to eat everything in that bowl and then we'll get you in the bath, goodness knows you need to be washed off."

Soarynn frowns, she doesn't know how long she was at the hospital for but she didn't think that she smelled bad. Then again, Coriolanus is freakishly strict about hygiene. She looks down at the berries, she usually loves strawberries and he knows her enough to remember that but she's not really hungry.

Perhaps she misjudged his anger because his other hand takes a firm hold of her jaw, squeezing it to the point of pain, "Stop being a fucking ungrateful brat and eat your food," he hisses, digging his fingers into her skin. Soarynn whimpers, tears prickling in her eyes from the harsh language and touch. She opens her mouth and grabs a piece of fruit bringing it to her mouth with a shaky hand.

Coriolanus keeps his tight hold on her while Soarynn forces herself to eat, even to the point of an upset stomach because it'll be much worse if she doesn't finish. When she finishes, she's rewarded with a kiss on her temple as if he didn't just grab her like that, "Good job darling, see what happens when you listen to me?"

Soarynn wisely says nothing.

Coriolanus goes to wash the bowl and Soarynn watches him, a distant look in her eyes as they settle on the cutting board. He usually likes to comment on how she never helps him with anything around the house so in an effort to be good, she rises from her seat and grabs the cutting board, brining it over to him by the sink.

Soarynn takes the knife and holds it out to him, watching as his piercing blue eyes settle on the sharp object and widen. He drops the bowl in the sink, making her flinch at the loud noise and he quickly grabs the knife from her, acting as if she just stabbed him.

She thought about it.

"Don't ever do that again Soarynn," he snaps, causing her to grow confused. "But I...I thought..." Her voice dies off, too tired to try and argue with her husband who clearly doesn't trust her with anything. He shakes his head, setting the knife in the sink, "You don't ever get to be around sharp objects again darling, I can't have you cutting that delicate skin."

Oh.

So he didn't think she was going to hurt him, no, that would be too easy. As much as he denies it, the quickest way to hurt Coriolanus Snow is by hurting his wife.

It's just very unfortunate that she's the wife.

꧁ ꧂

Warm water sloshes around Soarynn, it feels nice, like a warm hug after a bad day at school.

More water pours over her head and she closes her eyes, letting the shampoo wash out of her hair. His fingers are deft while they work, untangling her hair, brushing through it, and washing it. If she were a stranger looking into the bathroom, she'd think this was sweet. A husband taking care of his mentally ill wife who tried to kill herself.

What a gentleman.

It's too bad that she knows the truth though, the ugly truth but the truth nonetheless.

Coriolanus Snow is a monster and she is trapped with him.

His hand drags up and down her bare back, causing her to shiver from his touch, "What were you thinking Soarynn?" He whispers, "Killing yourself? Do you have any idea what people are saying about me? About us?"

Of course, this is why he cares. She's tainted his reputation. Coriolanus Snow is now married to an unstable nutcase. Poor him.

"Sorry," she mumbles even though she's not.

He sighs, deep and heavy, she wonders what it's like to live in his twisted mind, how he justifies all the things that he does to her. "My grandmother died in that room, do you have any idea how horrible it would've been for me to lose both of you in the same room?"

Soarynn finally meets his scrutinizing gaze, it holds no empathy or remorse for what she's gone through with him. "You locked me in there," she whispers, closing her eyes when those terrible memories come flooding back, "locked me in there and didn't come back."

She feels his hand on her cheek, it's supposed to be comforting but it only reminds her that she belongs to him wholly now. There is no escaping. "You were misbehaving," he reminds her, "perhaps you should spend another night in there." Her eyes fly open at the threat, and new tears threaten to spill, "No, no please," she whimpers, "I don't wanna go back there."

Coriolanus grunts, giving it some thought, "Then you'll be my good girl hmm? Do as I say?"

"Yes," she says, lowering her head, "I'll do as you say."

They spend the rest of bathtime in silence. Coriolanus finishes washing her off and dries off her body and her hair. For once, she's grateful for him because she doesn't have the strength to do any of this by herself right now. He picks out a nightgown for her to wear, a light shade of blue with lace trim along the neckline. It's a pretty thing and he says that it matches her eyes.

He keeps an arm wrapped around her as they walk to their bed, Soarynn lost some weight in the hospital along with her strength and will to live.

Which is why she doesn't try to fight him off when he puts his body on top of hers. Looks like she isn't a total lost cause. Soarynn lies there, limp and unresponsive while his lips leave marks on her body, reclaiming her as his. She winces when she feels his fingers prodding against her entrance, she's not turned on in the slightest but that never stopped him from taking what's his.

"The doctor told me something else," he murmurs in her ear, sliding two fingers inside of her. Soarynn whimpers from the painful stretch, begging her body to produce some lubrication but nothing happens. These suppressants are doing more harm than good.

"Do you want to know what the doctor told me Soarynn?"

Soarynn wishes she had just slashed her wrists open instead. Then she wouldn't have to be here.

He kisses right below her ear and whispers the most horrifying words she's ever heard in her life, "That the little baby inside of you survived."

She's pregnant.

She was pregnant and then she tried to kill herself. Against all odds, the tiny little baby inside of her survived.

Tears are rolling down her face, Soarynn can't keep them at bay anymore. It doesn't help that his fingers are tearing her apart, pumping in and out of her at a rapid pace now.

"Even at your worst you still give me your best Soarynn," he pants in her ear, "gonna give me a child, gonna be so good for me." A child. She has to bring a child into this cruel world, into this dark, evil household. Soarynn isn't ready to be a mother, to have a baby, to give birth. She could die giving birth.

He doesn't care though. He doesn't care.

When Coriolanus finally forces himself inside of her, Soarynn says nothing, already imagining the child growing inside of her. If it's a girl, she'll think her father is the best man in the world, the same way Soarynn thought of Coriolanus before realizing the truth.

If it's a boy, he'll know right away that his father is horrible.

Either way, she'll lose and he knows that.

Soarynn wishes she were dead so her baby would be dead too but they're not. They'll be forced to live under his rule forever.

Fate is so cruel.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @evilmenarehot @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

[ughtyrell]

S2 Jayce away from his Viktor and falls for another

Fic where S2 Jayce is separated from his Viktor. He makes a great effort trying to get back to his Viktor, to find him, needs to because he needs him. Still, he meets another Viktor and he can't help but be drawn to him. His greatest strength and weakness will always be Viktor in any world or time. He can't help himself.

They meet, become close, fall inlove and Jayce spends less and less time trying to get back to his original Viktor. His project to find him is not abandoned but less time is spent on it because he was feeling hopeless. At the verge of giving up even as he continues to work.

Of course this is when his original Viktor shows up, the glorious evolved Viktor who has done so much wrong, still Jayce immediately drops everything and zeros in on him. His Viktor. He's amazed, he's scared, he runs to him and into his Viktors arms.

"Are you my Viktor?" Jayce says after crying in original Viktors arms, gripping him like he'd disappear.

Original Viktor looks sadly at Jayce, fondness and pity in his eyes.

"Oh my poor Jayce. To be stuck here for so long. I've been traveling timelines and world's looking for you."

Jayce shudders, a few stray tears running down his face but with relief. His Viktor has been looking for him.

"Come Jayce, time to go home"

And this is when the Viktor of this world interrupts, voice low, confused and hurt.

"Jayce...?"

And just like that Jayce remembers his Viktor of this world who he has been creating a life with. Who has just seen everything from the moment he ran to his original Viktor. Guilt, shame, confusion, love he feels all at once. His original Viktor holds him tighter and he sees original Viktor's eyes narrow just the tiniest fraction.

"Viktor..."

Jayce says looking from original Viktor to the Viktor of this world.

Please this idea won't leave me alone. The hurt, the angst and disaster this situation Jayce has found himself in. What shall he do.

I imagine the divide he feels. He's made a life with the Viktor of the world/timeline he's been stuck in. On the other hand his Viktor has been searching for him. Needs him because he has no one. And Jayce has been yearning for him all this time, even when making new memories with the new Viktor, he never forgot his original. The one who he has been through so much with. Though the same can be argued for the new Viktor. It was just a lot easier, softer memories than the former.

Worse if at one point Jayce says, "I never stopped trying to find my way back to you either Vitya" to original Viktor infront of this world's Viktor.

New Viktor thinking back to the time he asked Jayce about the project he worked so hard on when they first met and Jayce told him it was something close to his heart and personal. With a far off, heart wrenching expression so he never felt it was his place to ask. Assuming Jayce would tell him when he was ready.

I feel like this Jayce's original Viktor was corrupted by the hexcore, going around "healing people" and Jayce instead of trying to kill him. Talked to him. Forgave him and promised they'd live out Jayces life span together in peace. Then something happened and he ended up in the new Viktors world alone and confused.

Jayce and new Viktor calling each other teammates, husbands or something because Jayce couldn't bare to call another Viktor his partner.

"What does this other Viktor have that entices you so much you're so willing to abandon everything here." Him is unsaid outloud but heard clearly.

"He's, well he's my partner."

And you see original Viktors eyes soften as Jayce says this. Happy and honored. While new Viktors eyes go hard.

"Partners? You said you didn't like that term."

Another miniscule betrayal that feels huge in light of everything. It makes original Viktors mouth twitch into a small but pleased smile.

"My Jayce. How sweet you are to me."

And without thinking Jayce replies, "always." with a proud expression. Which immediately shutters into guilt as his eyes swerve to new Viktor.

Original Viktor has game and is easily seducing Jayce back. He would just take him but Jayce taught him about the right to choose and free will. Jayce would be upset if he did that, even for a little while until original Viktor makes him forget all about this new Viktor. Besides, original Viktor knows Jayce will come with him. Like it was just said, they're partners nothing will come between that even if Jayce felt lonely enough to go with some cheap, lowly, defective knock off.

But new Viktor is still a Viktor and so after he's had a minute to process this, you don't know what he'll have up his sleeve to convince Jayce to stay.

If anyone has written something like this or does in the future, please tag me immediately.

PS, keep checking on this post bc I feel like I keep adding more shit that hurts me

[thezombieprostitute]

Hey Zombie, quick question about Tech Tuesday. Do you intend for Rose to cross path with one of her former boss again so that Jonathan might find out how she was treated ?

Tech Tuesday: Jonathan Pine

Summary: A dinner date with Jonathan is interrupted.

Warnings: Implied age discrimination, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is 40+ years old and female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Previous

It doesn't matter that this isn't your first date with Jonathan. That you've slept together already. That the entire office knows the two of you are together. The butterflies are still fluttering with nervousness as you get ready. Maybe it's the place he's taking you to? It is higher up on the fanciness scale than you've ever been to before. You got a look at the menu online and warned Jonathan you couldn't pronounce half of the items! He assured you he'd handle the French words for you.

Your face heated up a little in embarrassment at how his fluent French makes you swoon. You have no idea what he's saying but it sounds so lovely. Especially when he says them with such reverence towards you. He could just be reciting a recipe but the way he says makes you believe he's actually saying you're beautiful. Quite the accomplishment for him to get you to believe, especially given your history.

You shake your head. Now's not the time to think of all those horrible bosses you had. All the ones who fired you so they could get more time with young, skinny, pretty newer secretary. But you're with someone better now. A boss who actually treats you with respect. Who wants you to stay. And he thinks you're beautiful. He's even been getting you to think that maybe, just maybe, he's right. It's why you bought yourself the bold red dress you're wearing tonight. It makes you feel almost as beautiful as he keeps saying you are.

Stepping out of your building to get into Jonathan's car, you relish the hungry look he gives you as he opens the car door for you. He kisses your hand, giving you a meaningful look, before helping you into the car. Yeah, he's almost got you believing.

Ever the gentleman, Jonathan holds out your chair for you to sit before taking his own seat next to you. You appreciate that he didn't take the one opposite. While it's good for eye contact, you prefer the closeness of having him next to you. It also makes it easier for him to whisper in your ear the scandalous things he wants to do with you. Whispers that have you squirming in your seat as he smirks.

True to his word, Jonathan handled the ordering of the food. His voice and clear pronunciation giving you heart eyes when you look at him. Does he know how silky smooth his voice is?, you wonder as you gently bite your lip.

The appetizers are served and Jonathan, with your prompting, explains what each one is. He also reiterates that if you don't like something he's picked you are more than welcome to say so. He will not take offense, "especially as it just means more for me." The entire time one of you always has a hand on the other. Whether it's your hand on his knee or his hand caressing your face, or his arm around you. You're always touching and it makes you feel like he truly doesn't mind being seen with you.

Soon after the main course is served your fun is interrupted by someone shouting your name. You drop your fork as you recognize the voice.

You turn towards the source. Sure enough, it's him. "Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?" You feel Jonathan go rigid as he squeezes your hand. A silent indicator that he's ready to stand in as you need him.

"I'm here to eat," Stark replies. "But then I see you here with a boy-toy and I decided to come over and ask if you wanted your old job back."

"No," you huff, before turning back to your food.

"No?" he exclaims. "Listen, I'm not one for admitting I make mistakes---"

"All the more reason for me to not go back to working for you," you interrupt.

He hisses as he breathes in through his teeth. "Look, I lost a lot of clients when I fired you. Hiring you back on would go a long way towards winning them back. So much so, I'll double what I was paying you."

"What happened to the perky little thing who you gave my job to?" Your tone is innocent but you already know what he's going to say.

Rolling his eyes he tells you, "turns out she was better at being bent over the desk than she was working at it. Her incompetence cost me a lot."

"Your incompetence, Mr. Stark," you retort. "I was fine to let her be your plaything while I did the actual work but when she got worried about being fired by HR for not doing her actual job she whined to you and you fired me. Her incompetence is one thing, but you chose to fire me. You fell for her sob story about feeling inadequate. You cost yourself those clients."

"And now I'm apologizing," Stark snipes back. "It's not my strong suit, but fine. I made a mistake in firing you. Come back and I'll triple your pay."

"Not a chance," you shake your head. "My current job doesn't pay as much as you're promising, but I'm treated with the utmost respect for someone of my skills and experience."

"Fucking hell," he sighs. He looks to Jonathan, 'you just gonna sit there? Not gonna defend your girl like a good boyfriend would? Or are you just an escort she hired to make herself feel better?"

"The lady doesn't need my help," Jonathan calmly answers. "Her thorns are quite sharp enough to take you down. Though, if you don't leave us be, I will be forced to ask that you be removed from the restaurant. Perhaps you should go back to your meal? Maybe you'll think more clearly on a full stomach."

Stark gives a huff and an eye roll before turning back towards his table. As soon as his back is turned you let out a shaky breath and Jonathan feels you trembling.

"Are you alright? Do we need to leave?" he asks as he gently turns your face towards his. His brilliant blue eyes are full of concern.

You put your own hand over his, holding him to your cheek. "I'll be okay. That was just...I've been wanting to tell him off for so long."

"Considering the nature of your firing, I'm not surprised," Jonathan admits. "How could someone be so shallow?"

You give a little snort, "it's not just him. Look over my resume. Pretty much every boss I had fired me for shallow reasons as soon as a prettier assistant became an option. Prettier, younger, skinnier, whatever."

He looks pained as he realizes what you've been through. "I have to admit, this does explain several things. And it makes me all the more grateful you've been willing to give me this chance to be with you."

Jonathan cups your face and brings you in for a deep, loving kiss.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @peyton-warren; @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[littlemourningstarr]

Do You Mourn the Passing of the Hours?

Former Professor Emmrich Volkarin had spent years settled into a quiet life running a small, quint flower shop in Nevarra. He expected that any excitement was far behind him. Enter, Lucanis Dellamorte. Professional assassin. Antivan Crow. A possessed man. A possible bad decision to take in Lucanis after an assassination goes slightly off kilter, and suddenly Emmrich finds his life is full of far more excitement than he'd ever had. But maybe, for the man who had begun to experience the world through a cloudy window of fascination but never truly partaking, the excitement would remind him what it was like to truly be alive again.

Chapter Seven!

Pairing: Emmrich Volkarin x Lucanis Dellamorte, Emmrich Volkarin x Spite, Emmrich Volkarin x Lucanis Dellamorte x Spite

Read below or on AO3!

Tags: tags to be added as we go, modern AU, flower shop AU, demonology AU, former professor Emmrich, still assassin Lucanis, physical hurt/comfort, scent kink, Spite is a little freak, mentioned/discussed past Viago/Lucanis, background Teia/Viago, pinning, slow burn, hand kink, masturbation, background Bellara/Irelin, biting, hand jobs, blow jobs, anal sex, anal fingering, surprise piercing

"Ah, thank you Lucanis." Emmrich clasped his hands together, inspecting the very large pot Lucanis had just settled on the table for him, in the shop. He leaned closer, eyeing the leaves- he wanted to ensure they remained a healthy deep green, that he couldn't find any signs of health issues.

Lucanis was standing a step back, arms loosely folded, watching. He'd been awake when Emmrich had been preparing to leave, and instead of remaining in Emmrich's home for the day, had come with him into the shop. It wasn't the first time over the course of the week Lucanis had stayed with him, but that didn't lighten the chills of excitement Emmrich got from the man choosing to spend time with him.

Emmrich continued to inspect the plant, and after a few minutes of this Lucanis said he was going to get them coffee- which, of course, meant he was getting coffee, and he would be picking up a nice chai tea latte for Emmrich. With oatmilk. A lovely drink when the weather was chilled.

The bell chimed when Lucanis stepped out to walk the few blocks to the cafe. Emmrich straightened once he finished his inspection of the plant, heading back to the counter and checking his list of orders to fulfill for the day.

He found he was smiling, as he made notes next to each order, jotting down expected pick up times. He found he had been smiling quite frequently, as of late. That his life felt strangely revitalized.

Perhaps he had become simply too reclusive, when he'd left academia. The discussions over coffee and tea had stopped with colleagues, the students were all working with newer theories- well, mostly- and he simply hadn't made it a point to expand the effort to keep a social life. It was easier to just talk to Manfred.

Maybe not healthy, but still.

But having someone to come home to? It was thrilling. His evenings were filled with talk over dinner, with an evening glass of wine while he researched in the living room and not his study, Lucanis on his own laptop next to him. Just. Existing together.

He wasn't any closer to finding a safe way to separate Lucanis and Spite, and he felt a bit guilty about that. But at the same time, Lucanis seemed no closer to finding any leads on who was behind his abduction- beyond Venatori- and securing his own safe return home.

It just seemed like suddenly there was no rush.

Emmrich flipped the page in his notebook, as the bell over the door chimed. Expecting that he had just lost track of time and Lucanis had returned, he glanced up, ready to ask if he'd be willing to let Emmrich cook for him tonight. He couldn't very well let the young man take care of him every night.

He paused, however, when he realized it was not Lucanis standing inside the shop, but a young woman. Her hair was thrown up into a large bun, her patchwork sweater pulled tight around her against the Nevarra chill.

"Professor Volkarin?"

He hadn't been addressed like that in so long. Another lifetime, ago. She stepped closer, and he realized her face was recognizable. Not one he knew from previous meetings, but from a page on Arlathan University's website, introducing all doctorate students and their areas of study for the year. She had sent it to him herself, worried it had made her sound pretentious.

"Bellara?" She rushed over quickly, stopping when she nearly ran into the counter. He reached over it, grasped both her hands in his, squeezing them affectionately. "My dear what are you doing in Nevarra?"

She was grinning, seeming to bounce on her feet. "I'm sorry for coming unannounced, but I was told I should step away before my defense and I could go anywhere and- well, I thought, isn't this the perfect time to finally meet?" He squeezed her hands again, unable to keep from smiling.

"Brilliant. Oh, welcome to Nevarra, I do hope you enjoy your stay in my fair city." He'd barley finished when the door chimed again, and he caught sight of Lucanis entering, just over Bellara's shoulder.

The younger man paused, only a step in, looking confused. Emmrich offered him a smile, and Bellara glanced over her shoulder.

"Oh Lucanis, wonderful timing." Lucanis crossed the shop, walked around the counter to stand next to Emmrich, handing him his drink. "Thank you. Lucanis, this is Bellara Lutare- the thesis student I've spoken about."

"Oh! This is the one you mentioned to me." Bellara reached out, took one of Lucanis's hands. "Possessed, correct?"

Lucanis jerked his head slightly, looked at Emmrich. "You told someone?"

Emmrich offered a nervous smile. "Bellara is very familiar with my work, and I was hoping for some outside thoughts on how best to assist." He paused, feeling a bit guilty, and added, "I only told Bellara, I do swear."

"And I haven't told a soul!" She released Lucanis's hand, and the man took a long drink of his coffee, offering no response. Emmrich could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle frown behind the lip of his cup. He wasn't thrilled that Emmrich had spoken to anyone about him.

It hadn't been the best decision, perhaps, but he had been desperate. Standard scholarly advice regarding possession always ended in spirit termination and most often death of the host. Neither were an acceptable outcome.

Emmrich turned his attention back to Bellara. "My dear it truly is exceptional that you've finally come to visit! We have much to discuss, you will have to catch me up on if you've been able to translate that text you found."

"The Elvish is still rough, I was hoping I could perhaps run some thoughts by you- perhaps you can help me understand what they were trying to say about spirits."

"Marvelous! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? Lucanis, I was going to ask if you'd relinquish the kitchen to me this evening." He glanced over at Lucanis who lowered his coffee, gave a single nod. He still looked tense- and it was then that Emmrich realize he could hear something, a very soft whisper.

A moment later, and his notebook flew off the counter, tossed well over a display of plants and halfway across the room. Bellara jerked back a little, a quick, "oh my!" uttered.

Lucanis gritted his teeth, reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Spite is having a moment."

Emmrich set his cup down on the counter right away, turning to face Lucanis and reached for his arms, grasping his biceps and turning the Crow to face him. He was pleased to see that the force of Spite's little outburst hadn't taken a physical toll on Lucanis- in fact, the spirit hadn't seemed to injure the man in Emmrich's presence beyond the one time.

Still, he reached up, gently gripped Lucanis's chin, studying him. "Are you quite alright?" he asked, and Lucanis just stared at him for a moment, pretty dark eyes laced with shock and something Emmrich couldn't read. He nodded, slowly, and Emmrich pulled back, glancing around the shop, unsure where Spite was. "Spite."

Here. It was whispered, into his ear, on the opposite side as Lucanis. Emmrich turned towards the voice, frowning.

"Can you tell me why you threw my notebook?" After a long pause, Emmrich sighed, admitting to himself he wasn't going to get an answer out of him. He moved to get the notebook, but Bellara had already walked across the shop and gathered it up. She offered it back to him. "I am sorry, I promise Spite has become quite a rather enjoyable presence typically."

"I'm going to go." Emmrich glanced back at Lucanis. "I don't want him to cause a scene." Emmrich managed a nod, very much wishing Lucanis would stay. But if he felt more comfortable removing himself and Spite, he couldn't argue that.

"I'll see you for dinner!" Bellara called, as Lucanis walked around the counter and past them, heading for the door. Emmrich sighed, walking back to the counter and setting the notebook on it, turning around and leaning against it-

And finding Bellara with a huge grin. He quirked a brow, and she folded her arms.

"You didn't mention you were dating the possessed man, professor!" Emmrich gawked. Dating? He and Lucanis- they weren't- this wasn't- "I know our emails are usually so scholarly but I would've thought you'd tell me! After all, I have more pictures on my phone of Manfred than my own girlfriend."

"We aren't- wait. Did you say girlfriend?" Bellara kept her grin, and Emmrich laughed. "Is it that lovely former anthropology student you have been speaking about for the better part of a year?"

Bellara swayed a little. "Maybe. So are you? Dating him, I mean."

Emmrich glanced past her at the door, unable to keep himself from feeling a sadness creep in at Lucanis leaving.

"No, my dear," he said, "I am most certainly not. A young man like that would have no interest in someone such as myself." Bellara looked poised to retort, but Emmrich continued on, "Now, I have to get some orders ready, but you are welcome to keep me company. Tell me, did you read the latest book recommendation I shared?"

*

Emmrich drove himself and Bellara to his home that evening. Upon entry it smelled of freshly brewed coffee- something he was already growing very accustomed to. His mind instantly connected it to Lucanis, and his existence in the space.

Something Emmrich was very fond of.

They had barely gotten their shoes off when Lucanis appeared, from the direction of the kitchen, cup in hand. Manfred was walking along side him, occasionally leaning into his leg affectionately.

"Manfred!" Bellara said eagerly. The cat looked at her, a bit confused- but happily trotted over at being called. She scooped him up, petting him affectionately. "Oh it's good to finally meet you. I think you were the only thing that got me through my semester last fall."

Emmrich gestured towards the living room and Bellara left, happily cooing to Manfred. Emmrich turned his attention back to Lucanis, walking over to him and speaking in a softer, hushed voice. "Are you alright? Has Spite calmed down?"

"He's fine," Lucanis said, glancing away. He seemed unwilling to meet Emmrich's gaze. The older man frowned, stepping closer. He reached up, placed a hand on Lucanis's shoulder.

"And you?" Lucanis simply looked at him. "Be honest with me… please."

The added please had Lucanis's eyes softening. He inhaled slowly, nodded. "I'm fine. Sometimes it can be… confusing, to feel Spite's emotions. And make sure they're not my own."

The concept was fascinating, indeed. Emmrich had to wonder how clear cut the line felt. "There is a wide spread theory accepted in academia that you may feel some of a spirit's emotions, but that they cannot overtake you."

Lucanis only nodded, lifting his coffee to take a sip. From the scent, Emmrich believed it was the Trevisan roast he had purchased. Lucanis definitely had a penchant for it.

"Would you be a dear," Emmrich started, "and offer Bellara some coffee, or tea? That way I can begin dinner." Lucanis nodded, stepped around Emmrich, heading for the living room. Emmrich himself went for the kitchen, opening a counter drawer and pulling out a very worn notebook. He flipped through the yellowed pages, taking in the options he had for dinner, mentally considering what he had in the home, as there wasn't time for a trip to the store if they wanted to eat at a decent hour.

He had the hand made cookbook open and was setting out various bowls and pans, when Lucanis came back into the kitchen. He headed for the coffee machine, switching out the Trevisan roast for the Orlesian one Emmrich had tried the night he brought the machine home.

"Thank you," Emmrich said, as the coffee machine gurgled and hissed, sounds that had simply become a part of the background noise of his life. He went to the small closet pantry, retrieved his apron, before returning to the counter where he began to remove his rings.

"Doesn't all of your jewelry get in the way?" Lucanis asked it as he watched Emmrich's hands, eyes locked on as if he was memorizing the layout of bones beneath flesh.

"Honestly? Not really." Emmrich set a thin ring down, the clink on the counter musical. "I've grown so used to it that I barely notice. I imagine it must be… gaudy to those outside of Nevarra."

Lucanis shook his head. "It looks good on you." He lifted his hand, as if he was going to reach out, grasp Emmrich's own, run his fingers along the back of his hand, the length of his fingers- but the hand fell back to his side. "Do they mean anything?"

Emmrich glanced at the pile of rings. "Some of them," he admitted. He picked up a larger one that hosted a brilliant green stone. "I bought this to mark my completion of my education and the start of my teaching life." He set it down, picked up a smaller one, with a cluster of red stones. "This was to mark when I was accepted into the Mourn Watch society, while I was still a student."

He set it down, before picking up a thin gold band, slightly engraved but hosting no stones.

"And this," he said, holding it out to Lucanis, "belonged to my father." Lucanis stared at it a moment, before he took it in hand, Emmrich's fingertips brushing the soft skin of his palm. "As I said, I was young when my parents passed- and we didn't have much."

"You wear luxury well." Emmrich quirked a brow, and Lucanis cleared his throat. "What I mean is, you… carry yourself like someone who grew up with…"

"Abundance?"

Lucanis nodded. "I meant it as a compliment."

Emmrich chuckled, as Lucanis passed the ring back. He set it back with the others. "No slight taken my boy. That ring is all I have of him." Emmrich let himself settle in a moment of sadness, missing both his parents, before he straightened his shoulders and settled the apron over his neck. "Now, I do believe I need to begin cooking."

"Here," Lucanis said, before Emmrich could reach back to tie the apron, "Let me." He stepped closer, and Emmrich felt the brush of his knuckles against his back, as Lucanis grabbed the straps and began tying them. He pulled it taut to his waist, and Emmrich could just feel the ghost of his breath, against his neck.

The knot settled, Lucanis drifted his hands, and Emmrich felt them on his narrow waist, grasping gently, thumbs rubbing the soft fabric of his sweater. Emmrich had the desire to lean back into Lucanis, right against his chest- for the man's arms to encircle his waist, for Lucanis to press into the crook of his neck.

He was jarred from the moment, the breath it took for the fantasy to unfold, by the sound of the coffee machine sputtering to silence. Lucanis pulled his hands back quickly, and when Emmrich turned, he was fully facing the coffee machine, focused on it with a hint of color to his cheeks.

Neither spoke, as Lucanis poured a hint of cream into the coffee, added a dash of sugar, and then left Emmrich to his cooking.

Emmrich sighed, grasped the edge of the counter and leaned forward slightly. Never once had he been so plagued with intrusive desires. He simply didn't know what to make of them- the desires, the situation, and Lucanis.

After all, he hadn't imagined his hands on his waist, had he?

*

Dinner went over quite well, in Emmrich's eyes. Bellara was the most joyous conversation partner, as she had been over her emails. She picked his brain in a way no one had since he'd left academia.

He was pleased to notice Lucanis seemed to relax, as well, as the evening progressed. And for every question Bellara asked of Emmrich, she had one for Lucanis, as well. The majority, of which, were not centered around his possession.

Emmrich wasn't entirely sure where Spite was. He couldn't sense him, lingering around Lucanis- nor had he heard him, since he and Bellara had arrived. Manfred had disappeared upstairs when they'd sat down for dinner, so he presumed the two were together.

"I'd love to see Treviso one day," Bellara admitted, setting her fork down. "All the pictures I see, the stories I hear, they're breathtaking."

"It does seem a truly lovely city," Emmrich added. Lucanis glanced at him- and held his stare when he spoke.

"Nothing should stop you from visiting."

It felt like a commanding invitation, spoken directly to him. Emmrich reached for his cup- knowing his tea was gone- but needing something for his hands.

"Maybe after my thesis defense," Bellara offered. "The city is in so many novels, I can't imagine it as anything else but a seat of romance and betrayal."

Lucanis chuckled at that. "I'd say don't believe everything you read in books… but Treviso is anything but dull." He finally pulled his eyes from Emmrich, pushed his seat back. "Do you want more coffee?"

Bellara utterly beamed. "Oh, yes please! That was lovely, where did you get the roast? I might have to stock up before I leave."

Lucanis gathered up her cup with his own, eyes glancing for only a moment at Emmrich. "Emmrich brought home a nice selection. It was quite a surprise." He walked around the table, picked up Emmrich's cup as well. "Tea?"

Lucanis was leaning so close to him, over his shoulder, that he could smell his cologne, the shampoo in his hair. It felt like a dream to see someone else's shampoo bottle in his shower, still. "You know," Emmrich admitted, "I think I'll have a cup of coffee as well." Lucanis's smile grew, and he was off, for the kitchen. Emmrich turned his attention across the table, and Bellara was giving him the most knowing of smiles. "What?"

"Professor, you are utterly smitten."

"It's just Emmrich, please. And I am most certainly not." He folded his hands on the table. "Perhaps you've been reading too much romance."

The elf laughed. "Absolutely not. Why the last one had brothers dueling on a chandelier-"

"And how did the physics of that work?"

Bellara was still explaining the scene, when Lucanis reappeared, managing to hold all three cups. He set Bellara's down, before moving back to Emmrich, handing him the mug- his fingers brushing against Emmrich's for only a moment. "I feel I've missed something."

"Oh, just explaining a scene from a book! You see, these two brothers dueled atop a chandelier because they were both in love with the same girl, but one brother was seen as wanting to tear down his whole house and no one cared for him, but she really knew there had to be more and-" she paused, color creeping onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I do that."

Lucanis sat down, and Emmrich lifted his cup, offering it in a silent toast. "Nonsense, passions should be discussed. Do continue- perhaps you'll be able to persuade me that the scene is, in fact, not utterly ridiculous."

*

Emmrich drove Bellara back to her hotel, late in the evening. The moment the car doors had shut, she had twisted in her seat, eagerly saying you didn't tell me he was staying with you!

The entire drive was like that. Bellara pestering in the most affectionate way about Emmrich and Lucanis. And Emmrich had to wonder, if a woman whom yes he had known for years but also only just met could see through him-

Who else could?

"I'm just saying," she offered, as the hotel came into view, "I could cut the tension with a knife."

It was absurd- Emmrich said as much, but gods and Maker, was it? He felt it too, but assumed it was simply driven from his side, his own attraction. An attraction he could absolutely not deny, at this point. Nor did he, when Bellara flat out asked.

"He's an attractive man," Emmrich conceded, "I'm not blind, my dear. But I am sensible."

Bellara rolled her eyes, as she undid her seat belt. "I think you're being the exact opposite of sensible right now- I mean, he's living with you."

"He's staying with me until he can safely return home. There are… complications. A lot of them, that are not my place to disclose."

Bellara narrowed her eyes, but didn't push. Instead she just opened her door. "Maybe tomorrow we can discuss your theory on spirit temperament and realignment? Because I know it is going to come up in my defense, as I referenced it so heavily. I'd love your opinion on my speaking points."

Emmrich nodded. Of course- he planned to make the most of the few days Bellara would be in Nevarra. A proper passing defense of her thesis would be a point of pride for him, after all of these years in correspondence. She thanked him for dinner and the ride, promised to text him in the morning, before she disappeared into the hotel. Emmrich waited until he could no longer see her in the lobby, before he began the drive home.

When he arrived, he found Lucanis in the living room, the younger man's laptop on the coffee table, completely ignored. Instead he was reading through the old notebook Emmrich had left on the counter, forgotten to put away.

Emmrich sat down on the couch next to him, perhaps a bit closer than he meant to. Lucanis didn't seem to mind, just glanced at him with a little smile. "This is handwritten."

"Yes, my mother's." Emmrich leaned his elbow against the back of the couch, peering down at the book. "Collected recipes from both her and my father's families. Most of it is quite distinctly Nevarran, and I did want Bellara to get to experience as much as possible." Emmrich paused, before he added, "I hope it wasn't too boring."

Lucanis shook his head, flipping a few pages in, stopping at random. Emmrich smiled, recognizing the recipe.

"Ah, this was always a favorite when I was a boy." He leaned a bit closer, his eyes tired from the day, as he scanned over the extensive list of ingredients. "I used to be able to convince my mother to make this hazelnut torte on my birthdays." Lucanis tapped the page, as Emmrich added, "I can't remember the last time I made it. Years ago, at least. It's far too much without someone to share it with."

Emmrich's eyes moved to Lucanis's fingers, on the page. He had the urge to take them in his hand, entangle their fingers together. Bellara's comments were still ringing in his head.

This didn't just feel like physical attraction, though. He found he genuinely liked when Lucanis spoke, liked hearing about the starkly different life he led. He found that he would be willing to give almost anything, to see him smile.

"You're quite sure you and Spite are alright?" Lucanis turned his eyes across the room, and Emmrich glanced as well. "Ah. Spite, if you're here with us, do answer for yourself. How are you feeling?"

There was a little rumble, and then a still somewhat annoyed Fine.

"Well, that is most certainly a lie." Next to him, Lucanis shut the cookbook, set it on the coffee table. "Why would you feel the need to lie to me?"

Because Lucanis. Lies. Too.

Emmrich glanced at the man, and Lucanis dropped his eyes to his lap, folding his hands, almost wringing them, as if being still was impossible. Before Emmrich could speak, there was a rushing static in the air, and he watched as Lucanis blinked once, eyes dark and gorgeous-

And then again, eyes shining amethyst.

Spite turned to Emmrich, reached for him and grasped at his sweater, leaning in very close. "Spite, you cannot just-"

"Lucanis. Let me. Did not fight." There was a pause, and then Spite continued. "He's here. He's listening."

Emmrich nodded. Alright, if Lucanis was fine giving Spite a moment in his body, he was content to speak to the spirit in a more physical form.

"You smiled. At her. You should smile. At us." Spite inclined his head a little, before he moved closer, pressed his face directly into the crook of Emmrich's neck. Spine going rigid, Emmrich didn't move for a moment, as Spite all but purred while nosing at his pulse. "We don't like. When you look. Elsewhere."

He was saying we, but Emmrich didn't dare believe that Lucanis was agreeing.

He swallowed thickly, moved his hand to gently touch Spite's back, sliding down along his spine. The spirit relaxed into him at the touch. "Spite, were you jealous?"

"Jealous, yes. You are. Ours. Ours."

Emmrich continued to stroke his back. Rationally, he was shifting through a proper explanation on boundaries for the spirit, yet…

The way Spite said ours left a shiver cloying at his spine, between his vertebrae.

"Spite, Bellara is a dear friend." The spirit lifted his head, and Emmrich moved his hand from his back, gently cupped his face in both, fingers flexing against the man's beard. "Just because she is my friend doesn't mean that you are not my friend as well. Nor Lucanis."

The spirit continued to watch him, eyelids fluttering as Emmrich continued to touch gently.

"Can I trust you to not act out again? If you're feeling such a way, you simply need to tell me." He leaned a bit closer, and Spite's eyes flicked down to Emmrich's mouth.

Emmrich had a moment where he thought the spirit might lean in, might kiss him. It was thrilling, but also filled his gut with a terror- because it was Lucanis's body he was in, and while the spirit might have an attachment to Emmrich, that didn't mean the man he possessed did, to such a degree.

But Spite didn't move. His eyes moved back to Emmrich's, and he blinked, once, amethyst-

Twice, deep brown.

Emmrich watched the switch in consciousness, the way a heavier sort of existing took hold in Lucanis's eyes. He was still cradling his face delicately, and Lucanis made no move to pull away.

Instead he stared at Emmrich with the same sort of intensity Spite had. Emmrich curled his fingers closer to his jaw bone, and Lucanis leaned a breath closer, could so easily have been moved by Emmrich's desires- he could be pulled in, his lips finally tasted, the magnetic pull in Emmrich's gut finally satiated.

Emmrich inhaled slowly and released Lucanis's face, his hands falling to his lap. "Apologies," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "I shouldn't touch without your permission."

"Spite didn't give you much of a choice." Lucanis eased back, into his own space. "He feels calm, now."

Emmrich only nodded. Yes, good…

He stood up abruptly, clearing his throat. "I believe I'll turn in for the night." Lucanis stared up at him, before he glanced away- and was that disappointment?

No, Emmrich was projecting. He had to be.

"Right. Good night." Lucanis reached for his laptop, and Emmrich offered a soft good night as well, before he headed for the stairs. He'd leave Lucanis to his work, his research, his tying up leads so he could one day leave-

Emmrich was half way up the stairs when he paused, hand gripping the railing. He frowned at himself. Of course he would leave- the whole point of him being here was to separate he and Spite, so he could return home. That was it. Nothing more.

Emmrich left his bedroom light off, changed in the dark, leaving his jewelry atop his dresser as always. He crawled into bed, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder, pressing it to his neck. The bed felt strangely cold, as it never had.

He wished it wasn't empty.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself. This was a ridiculous situation to find himself in, at his age. Yet he had been dangerously close to kissing Lucanis- no, Spite- and might have, if he had had but a single moment longer of inaction.

He couldn't deny, he wanted to kiss the man. He wasn't blind, he hadn't been since he'd first met him. He was honest when he'd admitted to Bellara that Lucanis was attractive. Was there a soul that wouldn't think so?

His mind thought back to Lucanis in the kitchen, gently grasping his waist after tying the apron, the feeling of his breath against his neck. Half a step closer, and he could have been pressed flush to Emmrich's back, the heat of his body undeniable. His arms could have encircled him, he could have pressed those hands along the planes of his body…

Emmrich bit his lip, his body feeling far too hot within his skin. The heat was pooling in his pelvis, his groin- and gods be damned, he was half hard at just the thought, the half memory and half fabrication.

He rolled over, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and told himself to get a handle on this before he made a mistake he couldn't unmake.

[ofcrownandglory]

Before claiming Udriam - or more like before Udriam claimed him - Onyx hadn't really traveled to many of the other kingdoms. They had just been stories to him, the reports that came in things that didn't interest him or even concern him because he knew it would take days on his mare's back to get to where he needed to go. Now that he had a dragon that could practically eat a horse - or three - and still be hungry, it made travel far easier.

Which meant that the knight was often sent on diplomacy missions, or to deliver missives from the king that they wanted to be delivered in a timely manner. Who knew that becoming a rider would turn him into a glorified delivery boy? But he grit his teeth and bore it, because he knew that at the end of the day, he was just further proving to his birth mom and dad - whoever they were - what a mistake it was to just throw him away.

After delivering something to a nobleman, the rider found himself walking the streets in Varlinnis when he heard a commotion. Udriam gave him the directions he needed to go to get to where the fire had been, the dragon having seen what happened from his vantage point in the sky - flying overheard and camouflaged by the off-white clouds. When he approached, he just saw what appeared to be a royal guard scrubbing at the scorched wall, and he rose a brow.

"You used that much fire to kill a rat?" Of course, if the other was smart, he'd know that there was no way that Onyx would have been able to see the fire to know how much it was - that the only reason he knew was because he had seen it through Udriam's eyes. "I'd think a member of the Varlinnis royal guard would be able to minimize the damage as much as possible."

Plot: Ben broke something again

Location: On Patrol in Varlinnis

"By the fucking Old Gods." Ben swore under his breath as he rubbed his fingers over his face and took a deep breath, keeping himself steady as he looked over the small, maybe not so small, singe mark in the stone. He had been startled by a rat, and of course instinct said, launch a fireball. Luckily it was just one but he was sure that he would have to pay for the property damage. Again.

Patrols normally went like this for Bennett- he tried his best by the gods he did. But he was a bit too absentminded, how he got in the Royal guard was beyond him some days. As he heard the clicking of boots on stone he hurridly got to his knees and began to scrub at the stone of the castle wall with his sleeve hopping to fix the damage. "Shit shit shit shit. I'm sorry I'm sorry. I will never do it again but if it helps I did kill the rat I was aiming at."