#how people will eventually feel like it's okay to treat me because surely I must have deserved it at least a little | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hangmanssunnies · 6 months

Text

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship.

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts.

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills.

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up.

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along.

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually.

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response.

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds.

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request.

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?"

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him.

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?"

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries.

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm.

"And what?" Jake asks.

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail."

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson.

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you.

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead.

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste.

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

"Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson.

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes."

"Now, darling," Jake drawls.

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured.

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."

"How is that fair?"

"It's fair because he is my godson."

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?"

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?"

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling.

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on."

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face.

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though.

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need.

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil.

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over.

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit,"

"You were really great with him today."

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic.

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking.

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly.

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?"

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake."

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately.

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke."

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends."

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous.

"I'm sorry, Dolly."

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?"

"What?"

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone.

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe."

"I could help you find someone," he offers.

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you."

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out."

"No —"

"Harvard—"

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument.

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends."

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack.

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher.

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide.

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go."

"We have to," you insist.

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option."

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now."

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you.

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace.

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?"

"I thought so."

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not."

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow."

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway.

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door.

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened.

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship."

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns.

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy."

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs.

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him.

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath.

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first."

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much.

"May I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more.

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it.

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again.

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling.

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead.

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight."

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner.

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours.

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you.

"You didn't?"

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion.

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans.

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way."

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby."

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage.

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you."

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross."

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?"

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —"

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid.

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly.

"Then why are you all the way over there?"

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself."

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are.

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him.

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly.

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?"

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours."

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed.

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is.

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch.

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you.

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like.

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body.

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin.

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?"

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips.

"I want to. Do you not want me to?"

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out.

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing."

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you.

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

"I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs.

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter.

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk.

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?"

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well.

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby."

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about.

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though.

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present.

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard.

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes.

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously.

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises.

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you.

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too.

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this.

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time.

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily.

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out.

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him.

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you.

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you."

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?"

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly.

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more.

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm.

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him.

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak.

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?"

"Do you?" You wonder.

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him.

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry."

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby."

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you.

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin.

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?"

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation.

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back.

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile.

"Hey baby," he whispers.

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together.

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand.

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention.

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved."

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow."

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #hangman imagine #hot hot hot!#hoeing for hangman

2K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

shy reader who starts working with rockstar!remus and thinks he’s super grumpy and mean, but eventually he reveals that he’s a huge softie and is really sweet to her. maybe she gets the impression bc she sees him arguing with someone or gets told something. thanks so much for all your amazing writing!

tw implied slut shaming ♡ rockstar!remus x shy!fem!reader | 1k words

Remus is technically your boss. You don't expect him to treat you any differently than that – a boss employee relationship suits you fine. It actually suits you perfectly. If he'd been chatty like James or overly flirtatious like Sirius you may not have survived this long on tour, but you have.

Sirius' assistant Mabel had told you on your first day that Remus can be quite short with others. And over time you've found she's right. He doesn't say more than he needs to, he doesn't adopt any beguiling tones. Short, though, might be the wrong word for it. He's quiet.

You try not to label him too harshly. After all, you barely talk. If people were calling you grumpy because of that alone you'd feel a great sense of injustice.

You wipe your damp cheeks. Maybe being called grumpy might be kinder. Grumpy you can own. Grumpy is something you can actively change.

"Are you okay?" Remus asks, shocking you out of your thoughts.

You sniff and stand as quickly as you can, stiff from sitting outside in the cold for so long. You don't look at him as you say, "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

You chance a glance at his face, unreadable as always. "Yeah."

"What's upset you?" he asks seriously.

The wind whips at your clothes and bites at your fingers. You tense them up into balls. With no jacket to hide them in they might as well be made of ice.

Remus is similarly underdressed for the weather. Different cities, different climates. You miss the South American half of the tour dearly.

"We should go inside," he says into the silence.

You don't want to go in yet. "I'm gonna stay out here."

"It's too cold."

You nibble the inside of your bottom lip and try to fight another embarrassing wave of tears. "I don't want to go back to my bus, yet."

He nods, eyes very obviously on the tear dribbling weakly down your cheek. "Okay. Okay, but we can't stay out here. Come on."

He nods his head towards the right where the band's bus, bigger and shinier than anyone else's, sits parked. You follow him up the steps and into the small front where there's a sort of L-shaped sofa around a square table covered in laptops and paper and drinks. You've been in here before, though usually there's another Marauder causing havoc. Remus opens his arm toward the table and you take it as a cue to sit as he disappears into the bedroom area down the way. He returns with a thin quilt and passes it over. Obviously his, it smells exactly like him, woodsmoke and sandalwood and that hint of fruity jasmine.

You try not to breathe it in too deeply as you pull it over your lap, frigid hands hiding beneath it. "Thank you."

"If somebody's done something to you, you can tell me."

"Maybe I'm homesick," you try.

"Are you homesick?"

"...No."

He sits beside you. Not close but closer than you thought he would've. If he wanted to, he could wrap his arm around your shoulder.

"Are you feeling warmer?" he asks after a minute.

"Yeah. Thank you. You didn't have to-"

"Of course I did. You're my favourite assistant."

You laugh, startled. "I bet you say that to all of your assistants." And he must have a few. You only handle his on tour expenses and comfort. He barely ever needs you.

"Only the very pretty ones." He tilts his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

His caring tone is sobering. You nod slowly and then with more enthusiasm. "Yeah, I-" You shock yourself when you realise how much you want to just tell him what had happened, and when he smiles at you to keep going, you do. "One of the, uh, one of the tech guys. I got in the way and he- he asked me why I couldn't be more useful. 'N obviously uh, I'm your- I'm usually with you, and it looks… well, they think we're sleeping together. And one of the girls said I have plenty use." Your voice wobbles.

"One of the girls on your bus, you mean?" he asks gently.

"Yeah. That's why I didn't want to go in."

"You don't have to go in. I can't get them to put you on a different bus, if you like."

You shake your head. It's a silly thing to be upset about. So what if everyone things you're having sex with a rockstar, right? And you don't really care about that. Sex is sex. But, the animosity that she'd said it with.

"I guess- I mean, I thought she liked me," you say weakly.

"More fool her if she doesn't. You're lovely."

You laugh wetly. "What?"

"I said you're lovely. You're sweet. You've never heard that?" he asks.

You turn your face to him and smile shyly. "No, I've never heard that."

He raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes before huffing a breath out of the corner of his mouth. "Well, that's a crime."

You don't know what to say. You think maybe he's knocked himself unsteady as well, because he reaches over your lap to grab a heavy looking laptop and pull it open in front of you. "I got that movie you like. The one about the aliens."

"A Dark Line?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know you liked-"

"I don't. Or, I mean, I didn't. But you were so excited to see it when we were in Brazil, I thought it must be worth watching."

The DVD he got is dubbed in Portuguese. You have to sit very close to read the subtitles, and his arm is a heat against yours. When he laughs you can feel it in your chest.

You sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His smile is the farthest thing from grumpy, at least in your opinion.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin #marauders era #marauders #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #rockstar!au #marauder x reader

2K notes · View notes

shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 months

Text

Keep Thinking About Gale x Single Mom!Tav

A/N: Shout-out to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble to them about it. I just need to get all this stuff rattling around in my brain out.

I know, I know, Gale repeatedly says he's not father material, but have you considered that I want him to be a dad anyway and it's cute

So in my brain this single mom is named Gwen (Guinevere); a half-elf, wild magic sorceress

She came from a fairly well to do family, married a handsome and acceptably rich merchant and soon had a child on the way

Problems came when she gave birth to a healthy baby girl, who also happened to be a teifling

Seen as a bad omen, both her family and husband wanted her to give up the child, she refused causing her husband to leave her and her family to reject her

She didn't let that stop her though and soon she found a new home for her and Clara

Over the next eight years she worked hard to build a life for herself and make sure Clara never doubted for a moment she was loved

Gwen knew the world would be hard on her girl, so she made a point to build up her confidence and teach her it's never wrong to fight back when people are treating you unfairly; you can't take that shit lying down

Blunt and a bit intense, Gwen has seen and done plenty of shit and thought she finally had a handle on her life; and then she got kidnapped by illithids

Still haven't played the game, so I can't give a play by play of every interaction, but I do know early game she would be a bit distracted

Obviously her first goal is to figure out if her daughter is okay so it frankly is the only thing on her mind until she gets her hand on a sending scroll or something like it

Only after does she confirm that Clara is safe and with people she trusts can she focus on the task at hand

Takes a liking to Gale basically from the word go; he's respectful, he know hows to cook, he keeps making comments about his tongue, there is only so much a woman can handle

Gods know it has been a while since she's gotten laid

He starts rambling about magic and she can't not fuck him

Gale is hesitant at first because first the orb, second Gwen has made no secret she had a child and Gale doesn't see himself as father material, and three because he does really, really like her and doesn't want to make promises he can't keep

I'd say they're able to meet Clara before they head come to Baldur's Gate so Gale and the rest can meet her earlier; and to give Gwen some peace of mind

Clara is a very curious and headstrong, both of which Gale can appreciate; he can see why Gwen was so determined to get back to her, which only makes him admire her more

Also, quick aside about the rest of the companions; Wyll and Karlach would be ready to baby sit at any given moment, Lae'zel admires the child's fighting spirit and absolutely gifted her a sword, Shadowheart enjoys her more mischievous tendencies, and Astarion is classic wine aunt who hates all kids except Clara (he's been helping her stage of coup of the swing set)

Eventually feelings are confessed between Gale and Gwen leading to a proper relationship (and Gwen actually getting laid)

Gwen is absolutely not having it with him trying to blow himself up or becoming a god

Mystra: You must destroy yourself and the orb. Gale: Alright, let me ask Gwen. Mystra: No, that's not--. Gale: She said no.

Once everything is said and done, I'm going back and forth on if they would settle in Waterdeep

Clara has friends and it would be hard to ask her to leave, but I think Gale could compromise and get a position at a different magical university closer by

Either way, Gale settles into the domestic life rather nicely and dives head first into being the best father to Clara he can be

He absolutely devours every parenting book he can get his hands on, only to throw it all out the window once he's actually in it; Gwen did warn him, but old habits and all that

Probably waits a little longer to actually get married to see how they all function as a family together first; plus he wants to properly ask Clara if she's okay with him marrying her mother

I've got other random thoughts, but that about covers it for now, if you want to know more, feel free to drop an ask! I'm up for anything.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale x gwen #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale headcanons #single mom!tav

102 notes · View notes

reverie-starlight · 1 year

Text

okay my personal obey me pact mark headcanons let’s go!!

Placement, size and other various things I can think up about them as I go :)

+ short thoughts on how the brothers would treat the marks if you were together.

General info on how I personally interpret the pact marks + what I think would be so cool about them:

I don’t think they’re always visible on your skin, at least not to humans without magic. And maybe the most you would be able to see on yourself (as the pact mark bearer) would be the faint outlines of them. They’d be clearly visible to demons and angels, and also faintly visible to witches and sorcerers like Solomon (and you could see his the same way).

When you actually use the pact on the brothers, the symbols would be clearly visible to you with black/brown-ish markings and they’d give off an aura that’s the colour of their respective demon (Lucifer’s would glow blue when used, Asmo’s pink, Belphie’s purple, etc).

They can either choose where to place them or just let them manifest naturally on your body, same with how big they’d want them to be. I have no idea what they would look like, but their symbols would definitely be in there somewhere. I don’t have a set way that I picture them in my mind tbh. I’ve seen some absolutely stunning art of other people’s interpretations though.

(please keep in mind that I’m only on lesson 23 currently, so if there’s something inconsistent with anything confirmed past that point I’m sorry! but I also did my research before writing this to make sure my ideas weren’t totally disproven by canon so I think it should be okay)

On to the brothers!!

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

Lucifer:

Listen. His would be placed on your neck. With all that talk when he first agreed to form one about you not owning him through the pact but it actually being the other way around??? Tell me he wouldn’t. It’s vulnerable, of course someone who (at least in the beginning) claims to hold all the power would place it there?? I don’t think it’d be huge, it’d be subtle on the left side of your neck but enough for it to make things clear to anyone who tries to mess with you (and by default him as well). Not tiny, but definitely not as big as some of his other brothers’. He’s smug about his choice of placement for sure. Gets mildly annoyed if you happen to cover it up but would never show it.

…if you guys are dating, he would definitely take the opportunity to kiss it affectionately when you’re having a soft moment together or trace his finger along it to get a reaction out of you. Tease.

Mammon:

I’m a sucker for him so his is obviously going to be placed over the heart. Whether he did it intentionally or not is a mystery to both of you (you both know). Obviously he makes a big deal about being your first demon, so I think he’d want his pact mark to be somewhat big. Not so big that it’s covering that entire side of your chest, but if you spread your hand over your heart, it’s roughly that size. If you wear low cut shirts or tank tops it’d peak out a bit. At first he thought the placement was embarrassing but now he appreciates it, whether you’re together or not.

…if you ARE dating him, though, he’s going to admire it and trace over it when you’re lying in bed together and talking before calling it a night. Since he didn’t explicitly choose its placement, you like to tease him by saying it must have been a subconscious decision to place it in such a tender spot. Kisses the centre of the mark every morning when you wake up together and every night before bed without fail.

Levi:

I thought about a few different things for Levi because his sin is envy, so he’d definitely want it somewhere obvious to prove that he has that connection with you. His Henry, his best friend, this human that (eventually) means the world to him!! but he’s also incredibly insecure so I think he’d automatically feel like he doesn’t deserve to take up much of your skin with his mark, so it’d be on the smaller side. He would’ve made it tiny but when he saw how big mammon’s was and how it was already over your heart, he impulsively placed it on the back of your dominant hand, (OR opposite to the sorcerer’s society mark which I JUST learned was a thing lol) leading a little bit up your wrist. Not as big as Mammon’s or even Beel’s. Bigger than what he intended and feels so guilty about it. Still the smallest of any of them. You have to reassure him. It’s in a very obvious place, no demon or angel would be able to miss it, and unless you wear gloves all the time, it would never be covered up for long.

…if you guys are together, he enjoys holding your hand and just admiring the mark. also enjoys seeing it when you play games together and will definitely lift it up and inspect it every so often. Likes to watch it glow orange when you use it.

Satan:

He would place it on your wrist. Specifically the wrist of the hand without levi’s mark. no real reason for it, he just thought it would look cool going from your wrist and up your forearm. One of the bigger ones of the seven to spite Lucifer (hey- even if his reasons for making the pact wasn’t lucifer related anymore, you can bet the size of it was, even if he formed one before the oldest).

...if you’re dating him, he leaves a series of kisses up your arm over the mark when you’re reading together in the library. will mindlessly trace over it when he’s particularly stressed or needs to calm himself down. it gets to a point where you just offer him your wrist when you see he’s getting irritated and it works about 70% of the time.

Asmo:

Collarbone. Would have gone for the neck but decided to let it manifest itself at the last second. He said something along the lines of “it will be what it will be- it’d look perfect anywhere, truly.” Believe it or not, it’s one of the smallest marks. Not so tiny that you can barely see it, but not large either. Likes the size of it because “you have to get up close and personal to really appreciate it.”

...if you’re together, he’ll constantly want you to show it off. he’ll also make sure the skin in that area is especially taken care of. when he’s lying his head on your chest, he’d always make sure to lie on the side of his mark.

Beel:

When he made his pact with you, he definitely wasn’t too concerned with the placement or size of it. He let it manifest naturally and chuckled a bit when he realized it appeared on your stomach. It was smaller than Mammon’s, and bigger than Levi’s but still pretty noticeable, especially if you like to wear crop tops.

...if you’re dating beel, he’ll definitely rub over it when you’re cuddling in his room, digesting after a meal. he’s definitely more reserved than some of his brothers, but I do think he’d like it when it’s visible. lays his head on it in his sleep sometimes, nuzzles into it for sure.

Belphie:

Belphie is too lazy to choose a placement himself, so he also lets it manifest naturally. His mark would be on your right rib cage, slightly higher than and opposite of Beel’s. The smallest of the marks, which he is unhappy about now but was indifferent to before. Is absolutely fascinated with the pretty purple glow it gives off when you use it.

...if you’re dating him, he sleeps attached to that side of your body, hugging it and also nuzzling into it (which he denies when you tease him about it).

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

the last few aren’t the best but I genuinely couldn’t think of super different things for the twins and asmo aside from their placements :(

but other than that I’m really happy with how this turned out!! hope you enjoyed <3

#obey me shall we date #obey me pact marks #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me brothers #obey me x reader fluff #obey me fluff

478 notes · View notes

tomasitaoficial · 3 months

Text

Okay, I already got the courage to do this.

Warning in advance that what is below the Cut has mentions of sexual things and harassment, But you all need to read this.

A person has been defaming me among their friends, and what has that person said about me? that I have 'sexually abused' them and that I am transphobic, which is totally false, but I must admit that it is very difficult for me to adapt to that topic and especially if a friend of mine that I have known all my life changes their pronouns and name, It will cost me but eventually I will treat you however you want, The problem here is that the person who is slandering me simply changed their name and pronouns TOO MUCH (Which in fact, What kind of pronouns are 🧃 and a 🦴?), I don't want sound rude or anything, But if you want to change your pronouns and name, I feel like you should be 100% sure that you want to change your name and pronouns so that you're not changing them all the time, And I understand if you're confused, But don't change so many times your name, And I mention it because that person changed their name MANY TIMES to the point where I was already confused and didn't know what to call them.

now, with the issue of me abusing them, it's false, they say that I asked them for naked photos and so on, which is false, because it took me out of context because there was a time when I was sending the lyrics of a song so that my friends can continue with the lyrics and it's something fun, The problem here is that THAT person, they took me out of context by uploading a photo cut from my message saying 'Let me appreciate your nudity', Which I repeat, It's part of the song named 'propuesta indecente' (It's a song in Spanish and there was a time where everyone on TikTok sent the lyrics of the song and to their own friends to followed it) and I'm more than sure they know the song

also that one of my friends asked what was going on between us and that person took it as if my friend was laughing at them and My Friend apologized, and do you know what they did? Laughing at their apology and left my friend feeling very bad emotionally.

I must also mention that this person pretended to be called something (they confirmed that their name was Judas and it was not like that, but I will not say their real name out of respect), and they also pretended their age, they are the same age as me (I am minor), to then pretend they are 9 years old and then pretend they are 17 years old, I mention this because they are been 'stalking' me, and if that person is really 17 years old, then what the fuck are they doing harassing me?

Also that they tried to tell all those lies to a friend of mine and I was not happy with it at all.

Not only did they tell me not to tell anyone but they started telling several people and I couldn't stay silent so I told my friends and family about this whole thing, But I did tell both sides, Thing that that person didn't do.

I also want to mention that this person justified Hitler by saying that he only wanted to be an artist and things about communism, putting things like “Hitler's era” and “Putin's daughter” in their biography.

but I also want to mention OTHER things, This person sent Gore to a roleplay group just because a person who played a girl acted like a girl, they were the person who made chains in my Group saying 'ANAL SEX' and things like that, For us It was slightly funny since that's how we treated each other, but it also took me out of context by following the chain.

which by the way, That person sent me a video that I could only watch once and the video said something like 'You lost the only person who loved you, You lost your place in my heart (get it back)' and I'm like wtf? They say they forget me and a lot of other things but it seems that they are obsessed with me since I have blocked them from everywhere but they keep appearing on my social, And recently, They sent me an anonymous question in RUSSIAN that says: “Дорогая Томасита, я все еще раньше может быть, это что-то новое... Но это точно НЕ привязанность :0!!1!1!1” which would be translated as “ Dear Tomasita, I still remember you... But I no longer feel the same hatred for you as before, maybe this is something new... But this is definitely NOT affection :0!!1!1!1”, I don't know if they tries to scare me or something. My intention was never to hurt anyone, and I admit that I have been a complete idiot before, but not enough to harass someone just because I want and say that I am 17 years old when it is not true.

Here is a photo of the anonymous question, So that you all can see that I don't lie (And I would never lie about a topic like this because you have to be very stupid to lie about something like this)

And here is the proof that they said they were 17 years old.

And even say that they felt satisfaction in seeing me cry, Throw a tantrum and say that I didn't do anything (In fact, I didn't even cry for them because the whole accusation looked and looks very false, I had just been enjoying my September 18th like Any Chilean would do, and so on, At no time did I cry for them.)

Which by the way, I almost forgot to mention, Their two accounts are 'sayariff' and 'meimailefuu' so you all can block them if you all receive a notification from them, I DON'T WANT you to go and give hate messages, Because that's overkill even more of the line.

And one thing that's a little irrelevant, is that they said that I didn't say Happy Birthday to them and that they cried all night because of it and that they felt angry/sad because my friends didn't give them a good birthday (And man, Isn't being told a happy birthday enough for you? I don't want to sound rude, but we live in other countries.)

Translation of the text ↓

Someone who starts with “*” and ends with “****” didn't even feel like telling me happy birthday, And since I'm very traumatized, I thought she hated me and I cried all night, And also someone who starts with "*" and it ends with "*****" didn't even make an effort to celebrate me well on the filthy birthday that everyone forgot (It's no longer worth crying to someone who barely pays you any attention, ***, Eugh)

Obviously I censored my name and my friend's name

There it clearly says 'Happy early birthday' come on

Translation of the text ↓

I'm starting to enjoy being cruel to some who are slightly immature and childish, I like to see them desperately looking for some mature apology so as not to disappoint me, PFFF, in the end they discover that they had already done it years ago and they collapse (who forgives , is already on the Cross)

And another thing a little more irrelevant, They compared my Zamir x Katherine ship (oc x oc) with that of Elizabeth Afton x William Afton, That is extremely disgusting (And also that the Zamir x Katherine ship is simply a joke, Obviously)

So, if this progresses further, I will reblog this post with the information

#You all have to read this because it is important #It's slightly amusing to me how I got into all this #Defamation #just text xD #By the way #if you reblog this so that more people know #I appreciate it.

34 notes · View notes

yuriwritestwst · 2 years

Text

You’re the new manager to Night Raven College’s basketball team, and Ace is the wannabe-star player who takes an immediate liking to you.

Notes: Ace Trappola x GN!reader, actual university AU, light cussing, not actually that much on basketball or university

The first time the two of you meet is when Coach Vargas blows a piercing whistle amidst the squeaking of sneakers against the pristine gym floor. He promptly introduces you as the new team manager, a position you volunteered yourself for after deciding that you needed a resume buffer despite not knowing the first thing to basketball. It’ll be easy, you told yourself. All you had to do was refill water bottles and fetch stray balls, just like how they did it on TV shows.

The team makes its way through their very brief introductions, and you’re 100% sure you don’t retain a single name, much to your dismay.

“Ace Trappola!” someone says, flashing you a grin. Awkwardly, you return his smile. “I’m just a first year, but you’ll be seeing me a lot on court when I become a regular!”

“Crabby, I can’t believe you’d just lie to someone you’ve just met,” a taller guy drawls out. His teeth are alarmingly sharp, you note.

“I don’t want to hear that from you, Floyd,” Jamil, the vice-captain, hisses. “I’m sorry about those two.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m a first year too,” and before Floyd can snap back with a witty response about how awful it must be to be in the same year as Ace, the ginger is next to you with a heavy arm resting on the top of your shoulders.

“Finally!” Ace sighs in exasperation. “A first year comrade! I can already tell we’re gonna be best friends.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jamil warns, swatting Ace’s arm off of you. “He’s just going to ask to copy off your homework eventually. I think it might be better for you to ignore him completely, actually.”

“Hey, rude!” Ace retorts back. “And for the record, I am actually glad that we have another first year on the team.”

“Yeah, okay Crabby, let’s get you back to practice,” Floyd coos playfully before violently shoving Ace back onto the court and turning to you with a devilish glint in his eyes. “I sure enjoy some friendly hazing.”

“Floyd,” Jamil warns again, eyes narrowing. “I know this team has some odd guys, but they aren’t actually bad people. I hope they haven’t scared you off, because we really need a manager this year.”

“Do you mind giving me the run down again?” you ask nervously, suddenly feeling more pressure than when you haphazardly submitted your application. “I’m not really too familiar with…well…”

“That won’t be a problem at all,” Jamil replies, smiling. “We can start with the storage room.”

By the end of the first practice with you as the manager, you find yourself rolling a cart filled with basketballs back to the storage room. It’s crowded, and despite Jamil’s best efforts showing you where everything is, you still have trouble naming exactly where and what most of the stuff is used for.

“Boo,” a familiar voice says from next to you, and you suddenly feeling something cold and wet on your cheek. You let out a yelp and reach for your face.

“You scared me!” you yell a bit louder than you would’ve liked. You only met this guy about three hours ago, but you’re already starting to treat him like a thorn on your side.

“My bad, my bad,” he laughs, not apologetic at all. Instead, he takes the cool bottle off your face. “Here. I accidentally got two from the vending machine.”

“Thanks,” your murmur hesitantly and wonder how “easy” it must have been for him to accidentally feed the machine twice for an extra drink. “I guess you actually are as clumsy as Jamil said.”

“Damn, I can’t believe he was talking shit behind my back again,” and from the way Ace says it, you figure he’s probably the thorn in a lot of people’s sides.

“Good work today?” you try, changing the subject. “Well, not that I know much about basketball in the first place.”

“Then the first thing I should teach you is that my work is always good,” Ace says proudly, chest puffed out. His pride is enough to convince you that it’s nothing more than an exaggeration. “But, man, I can’t believe you’re not a basketball nerd.”

“And I can’t believe Coach Vargas was fine with that.”

“Well, you know what this means, don’t you?” Ace asks with a eerily mischievous grin. You shoot him a look that tells him something like, this is going to end terribly, but he ignores it. “Oh, you’re gonna be so busy with me watching old game recordings. I’ll show you all the ropes.”

“Forget about the rules, and just tell me where this cart goes first,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Just leave it here. Somebody’s gonna find this thing.” He unceremoniously rolls the cart into a wall, leading to a clunk, and you’re scared you’re going to get kicked from the team after one day. As usual, he’s not nearly concerned as you and simply slings his arm around your shoulders like he did earlier today. “Now, let’s go already.”

“You’re awfully pushy even though we met today for maybe ten minutes max,” you scoff. Still, you take his lead, albeit a little hesitantly. It wouldn’t be too awful to understand the game you were supposed to manage. Plus, even if he was annoying to no end, he didn’t seem like he meant any harm.

“I’m telling you, us first years have to stick together. We’re gonna be best buds by tomorrow morning.” Suddenly, you find that his grin isn’t all that teeth grinding. “Oh, and I was wondering if you’re also taking Intro to Chem 1, because there’s this assignment due tonight that I haven’t started and-“

“You stink,” you say pointedly, shoving his arm off your shoulder and start speed walking ahead of him.

“I was just kidding!” he calls from behind you, and you have to stifle the laugh that threatens to spill from your mouth.

Floyd being the world’s most reckless player brings about good and bad things, most of these being bad except for the fact that you were almost never bored. Yes, it was always fun to watch the lanky boy defend the ball with his life, even if it meant him rolling all over the floor for no other reason than the fact that he found the horrified reactions of others amusing, but this also meant far more injuries than you expected. Typically, they were never Floyd’s though.

“Damn, you’d think you’d get the hang of this after what? The third finger Floyd’s jammed this week?” Ace comments from your side during a small break. It was only Tuesday.

“Look, there’s only so much I can learn from watching a Youtube video.” You don’t even have time to roll your eyes, because you’re too busy trying to tape and splint a third year’s finger after Floyd had all but hurled the ball at him without enough warning. “There! This should be good enough until you reach the nurse’s office.”

The third year, assisted by his friend, nods, gives thanks, and makes his way out of the gym. Meanwhile, Ace makes himself comfortable by leaning against you, much to your dismay.

“For the last time, you’re super sweaty and gross,” you groan, wanting to smack the ginger square across the face. You try your best, but per usual, you can’t lose him. He sticks his hand out in front of you. “What?”

“For practice,” he says simply, tilting his head toward the direction that the third year just left in. “A splint like that won’t help anybody. ‘Specially if we’re at an away game.”

“Oh, and you’re suddenly a finger taping master?” This time, you do roll your eyes. In fact, you flick his forehead good and hard for extra measure.

“Uh, no, but I’m not afraid to tell you when it’s sloppy and when it’s not,” he responds as if it’s the obvious. He moves the hand that he placed in front of you around, urgent. “Come on, there’s only five minutes of break left.”

“If i practice on you, will you please get your sweaty head off my shoulder?” Immediately, he’s off and looking at you eagerly. In fact, he looks like he’s practically shining, and you almost forget that he’s the same guy who covered you in sweat two seconds ago. “One smart-ass comment from you and I’m breaking your fingers for real.”

Carefully, you take his index finger and middle finger together, to which he responds with a dramatized grunt of fake pain, and apply the tape around them. It’s weird, you think, oddly conscious of the fact now that his hand is in yours. He’s always been a physically and casually intimate person with you and his teammates alike, but something about this you find fundamentally different. Even through the tape, you feel his warmth searing through. Or maybe it was you who was warm. That’d be embarrassing.

Working your way up to his finger pads, your thumb subconsciously grazes against them, and you swear he stiffens. When you look at him, however, he’s busy looking at his own hand, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask, grin spreading across your face. “Actually scared that I’m gonna break your fingers?”

“As if you’d injure the team’s star,” he fires back, also grinning.

“Tell me that when you’re actually a starter.”

“It’ll happen before you’ll learn how to properly splint a finger,” and before you can ask him what he means, because you’re so sure that you’ve done a decent job, he manages to loosen the tape on his own, two fingers bending freely to hook around the fingers of your hand that hovers above his. You almost stop breathing, but neither of you make an effort to pull away.

“See?” he says, the cockiness still laced in his voice. To make a bigger statement, you feel his fingers move to the back of your hand, drawing shapes. It’s only now that you realize along with his feather-light touches, he’s looking at your face with such intensity, as if he’d pull away the moment you show any signs of discomfort. Again, you’re not sure if it’s his fingers that are burning or if it’s you, but the gym is a lot more stuffy than before.

“Alright, back to practice!” Vargas booms. You jolt, and Ace laughs.

“You should practice more,” Ace says, standing up to get back on the court. “Just give me a call, and I’ll be there.”

And for some reason, you listen to him and continue to practice in the following days even when you get the hang of it. Neither of you suggest to stop, even months well into your first year on the team.

Ace finally makes it as a season regular by the time his second year rolls around, which means he’s always on the bus with you during away games.

(“Why are you going but not me?” he’d used to whine after team practice. It had become a habit for him to do a little bit more solo practice each day, with you in tow to grab the stray balls much to your dismay.

“Well, I’m the team manager for starters, and you’re just some guy.”

“Just you wait. You’re never gonna be free from me when I become a regular.”)

You come to hate away games very early on, though, because not only are you the one helping haul bags of supplies and water bottles, but you also realize that if a game is scheduled to end at 9:00 PM, you’d end up home at 11:00 PM if everything went smoothly.

Thankfully, though, the bus rides back are always quiet simply for the fact that everyone is just so exhausted, and after tonight’s game against Royal Sword University about two hours away, that was exactly the case. Aside from the quiet munching from some players who were smart enough to bring their own post-game food, most people were sleeping the soreness and hunger off. This included Ace, of course, as he was your designated seat buddy. Not that there were assigned seats, just best friend code as Ace had put it.

So here he was, snoring away on your shoulder, and while he’s been resting on you since the beginning of time, what’s new is the grip he has around your wrist. It’s loose enough for you to wiggle out of his grasp, but still firm. His hands are incredibly calloused, and you know this from the countless times you’ve seen them through splinting his fingers, but something about them against your skin in absolute silence makes you feel ticklish. Giddy, even.

Eventually, his hair starts to actually tickle you, forcing your hand to brush the stray locks away. If only you had scissors, because no matter what you did, nothing helped. Rather, after a few minutes of musing with his hair, Ace shifts in his sleep, and you think you might’ve woken him up. He doesn’t, thankfully, but even in his subconsciousness, he takes a liking to the attention you’re giving him and nuzzles into the hand that you’ve placed on his head in the midst of your ministrations. It’s almost endearing if it weren’t for the fact that you were basically trapped in your spot now.

“Hey, Goldfishie,” a sing-song voice calls. Oh no. “Do you have any snacks in your bag? I’m just so hungry that I could eat about— Oh.”

You nearly jump in horror, hands flying out of both Ace’s hair and his grasp as Floyd peers into the aisle you and Ace were in before a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. He’s technically your senior, but you want to hit him so bad.

“Never mind,” Floyd mumbles, spinning on his heel to the back of the bus where his seat was. Floyd typically never kept to one seat per ride, but he always found himself in the back messing with Jamil, and you just know that he’s telling everybody what he saw on his very slow journey there.

You sigh, groaning into your hands, and you’re not sure why you’re so embarrassed.

“Damn, way to wake a guy up,” Ace mutters from next to you. He yawns and stretches his neck before sinking back into the bus seat. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought I was getting mugged or something.”

“And I should’ve let you get mugged by Floyd,” you hiss.

“Damn, if you’re this cranky, maybe you should be taking a nap too.” He checks the time on his phone. “We have an hour left anyways.”

“No, I’d rather not risk getting my face drawn over with marker,” you say pointedly, and Ace feigns hurt.

“I can’t believe you’d say something like that,” he gasps, mock shock, even though he, along with everybody on the bus, knows that it’s something he’d definitely do. “Come on, it wouldn’t hurt to get some shut eye.”

There’s an arm rest that separates the two seats which he quickly raises. You feel his arms pull you into him, hand gently pressed on your head once he positions you comfortably against himself. Your heart is bounding a thousand miles per minute, and you’re thankful that the bus is dark enough so that he can’t see your entire face flush all the way to the tips of your ears.

“What are you doing?” you ask rather dumbly. His laugh seems to resonate through his chest and into your ears.

“Consider it…returning the favor?” You want to scream.

“You were awake that entire time?”

“Well, not the entire time, but I was awake for long enough.” He coughs. “And for the record, you sure were moving around a ton.”

“Was not,” you mutter under your breath. “Why didn’t you move away then?”

He pauses. It’s a long silence.

“Just go to sleep already so that I can take my nap without having you wake me up again,” he grumbles. You try to pester him, but he closes his eyes, and even though you know he’s still awake, he stops responding. All you can do is sigh and give in to how oddly relaxing your current position is before dozing off.

And of course, you wake up to the click of a phone camera and Floyd’s cackle. Yes, he meant for you both to hear it.

Manager duty, as you have found out long ago, doesn’t mean manager mode during just club activities but also during your own free time too, which is why you find yourself in Ace’s grasp as he drags you down the mall on a fine Saturday afternoon.

“Do you really need me to be here for you to go shoe shopping?” you ask, already tired. “I wanted to study for one of my exams next week.”

“You have to take it easy once in a while, and I’m the one who’s gonna help you do that.”

“Says the guy who almost failed his way out of club activities,” you groan, recalling the midnight emergency cram session Jamil held out of sheer panic that they’d lose a regular right before the season started. “You should be glad that Jamil is the new captain.”

“I mean, I was close to failing, yeah, but I knew I wouldn’t actually,” Ace corrects very matter-of-factly. “And anyways, stop lecturing me about school. You’re supposed to help me pick out new sneakers today. You’ve seen Floyd’s new ones, right? I have to keep up or else I’ll look lame on the court.”

“I’ve seen his new ones, and I also remember him telling me that they cost way more than whatever budget you have in mind today.” You snicker a little at Ace’s frustration.

“Don’t worry. There’s no way I’m leaving without a new pair today,” he promises, swears even. You hate the grin he’s wearing.

“Ace Trappola, I do not care if this is best friend code or not,” you start, tone warning. “I will not be committing theft with you even if you cry to me.”

“Relax, relax!” he calms. “Promise we won’t do anything illegal. Just trust me.”

And even though you’re still suspicious of him, you just follow him into a Foot Locker where he all but drools over the highest priced, neon shoes. In your opinion, they’re a disaster to look at, but to each their own you suppose.

“What do you think about these babes?” Ace asks, and you want to hurl at what he shows you. “I’ve had my eye on them for a while now, you know?”

“Then just get it over with so that I can go home.” He frowns this time. “What? I mean, yeah, I love them so much. They look so good that I might go back on my statement on theft and steal them from you after you buy them.”

“Really?” He brightens immediately. “Then you should get these instead of me.”

“Absolutely not.” You’re so horrified that you can’t even lie about wearing them yourself, and judging by the knowing smirk he gives you, even he knows he’s caught you.

“Then maybe you should be a little more serious about my game fashion,” Ace sighs. “I need to look good for our team Instagram.”

“Your current sneakers are still fine though,” you try again, desperate.

“Well, Floyd said he was able to jump two feet higher in his new ones, so I figured if I bought the same brand, I’d be able to do some pretty sick slam dunks.” No matter what, Floyd always got Ace to believe his ridiculous lies.

“Fine, but can we leave if I pick one out?” You’re almost pleading at this point.

“Promise!”

So your eyes scan over all the shoes in the store, and while you can’t say you knew much about proper basketball footwear, you do find a design you like. It’s not particularly flashy like Floyd’s but it was still colorful enough to stand out on its own. Plus, the orange matched Ace’s hair.

“This one,” you say finally, handing him the pair you like. His immediate purchase without even trying them on makes you think he’s willing to buy just about anything so long as the brand was good, but you see him wearing those sneakers way more frequently than usual. He even wore them to class, which was unusual for Ace seeing as he always wanted to protect his basketball shoes from the daily wear and tear.

“Aren’t you gonna buy a new pair?” you ask him off-handedly months later over lunch.

“What, why?” you make out through his burger-filled mouth. He swallows. “They’re fine.”

You didn’t have to because you see him at practice every day, but you look under the table at his tattered sneakers and then back up at him to make a point.

“Ace, it looks like a dog chewed them up and then pissed all over,” you sigh. “Plus, you usually buy new ones if there’s so much as a tiny scratch.”

“I do not,” Ace says, playfully kicking you under the table. “These are fine. Plus, I’ve been making more three-pointers with these on, so there’s no way I’m trashing my good luck charm.”

“I can see it already,” you muse. “The next school paper is going to have the headline ‘Ace Trappola Scores with his Pissed-On Sneakers During Game’. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Trappola.”

“Well, if I make it to the front cover, people are gonna be busy swooning over my perfect form instead of shoes,” he corrects. “But, if you really are gonna make such a big deal out of this, then you’re just gonna have to pick out a new pair for me.”

“What, why?”

“I might buy those neon ones that you hate so much, and you’re gonna see them every day for the next few weeks at least. But to be honest, I might like having you disgusted at them so much that I’ll just keep buying the same pair over and over-“

“Fine, I get it,” you huff. Ace smiles from across the table and flips out his phone.

“So what about this weekend?” he asks, and even though it shouldn’t take the entire day, he urges you to clear your schedule, because what if you two have too much fun and lose track of time?

You only sigh again, but you don’t doubt him.

“You see that?” Ace says, pointing at the tablet screen. The video is paused, and you see him picking out one of the new first years. “I was the one who taught him how to jump like that.”

“Sure you did,” you say, mindlessly looking through clips of the team scheduled for next week’s game and taking brief notes.

“And him over here,” Ace points excitedly. “He couldn’t do a proper lay-up until our drills from Monday. Pretty good, right?”

You decide to shift your position at this, turning over to face the back of his head as he sits on the floor leaning on the bedside. He hears your rustle when you do this and looks behind him.

“Looking pretty relaxed there, Manager,” Ace fake-chides. “Like you might fall asleep in the middle of analyzing plays right before play-offs.”

“You’re so right about that,” you grin, eyelids feeling heavy as he peers at you. “I don’t know. Something about your bed just makes me so sleepy.”

“And if you fall asleep here, where am I supposed to go?”

“The floor.”

“You’re in my apartment!” he yells. “There’s no way I’m sleeping on the floor when I literally live here. You can go home and sleep. After we finish watching these plays, of course.”

“Yes, Captain,” you tease, faking a salute. “To think you ended up like this even though you were all talk when we were first years.”

“And you’re rude like usual.” He sighs, pressing a finger to your cheek. After all these years of his antics, you don’t even bother to react. “Don’t you want to make it to nationals this year?”

“I’ve wanted to go to nationals every year, actually,” you correct, but when he starts pouting, you add, “but I guess especially this year, since it’s our last.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ace hollers with a toothy smile. “And if, no, when we win, we’re gonna be so famous. Trust me.”

“I don’t think that includes me though,” you chuckle, making Ace frown. “I’m just a manager.”

“Well yeah, you’re not exactly a player, but you’re kinda really important, you know?” And of course you know, because he hasn’t stopped saying that to you in all these years. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” He nods dutifully, pleased that his almost-daily reminder is conveyed. “Kinda sucks that I don’t even get a participation medal, though.”

“Since when were you interested in prizes?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I thought that was a me thing.”

“Since now,” you say playfully. “In fact, I think you owe me a prize right now, right here.”

“But we haven’t event started play-offs yet,” Ace teases knowingly. “Well, I suppose as the captain of this team, I should be providing motivation for all our members, manager included.”

“You’re so right,” you murmur, feeling his hand caress your cheek. He closes the gap between the two of you, lips pressed firmly against yours. It’s electric no matter how many times he’s done it, and you’re met with the same hunger every time. You hated to admit it but Ace Trappola knew what he was doing.

“Is that enough compensation?” he asks, finally pulling away, breathless.

“I feel like I deserve more than one kiss after being manager for so long,” you sigh, pretending to be upset.

“Well, you see, I’m just awfully busy with captain duties and all so-“

You don’t let him finish, pulling him by the collar and claiming your reward again and again. Not that he minded in the slightest.

(“Is this part of best friend code?” you tease after he gives up reviewing plays and opts to snuggle with you on his bed.

“It’s boyfriend code,” he corrects pointedly.

“I don’t know,” you respond, pretending to think. “You were pretty touchy when you were just my best friend too, though.”

“Then let me help you differentiate the two.”)

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst #twst ace #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #university au #basketball au

339 notes · View notes

the-oc-lass · 6 months

Text

Nimona OC - Charlotte Swiftheart/Corova

Alright, as I mentioned yesterday, I wanna write little scenes for my daughter, so here we go.

As I mentioned, Miss Swiftheart/Corova is a giant lesbian. Here's the story of how she came out to Ballister and Ambrosius. Enjoy! :>

First Post, Next Post

She's been thinking about how to broach the subject for almost a month now, but nothing sounds right. What if they don't want to be friends with her anymore she tells them? Sure, there are other people who she could be friends with, but she doesn't like most of them. Not really. Especially since most of them are like Todd and treat Ballister like dirt. They'd treat her like dirt too, if they knew who she is. What she is.

She purses her lips and shakes those thoughts off, focusing on the task at hand. Ballister has his hands in her hair, carefully braiding the golden strands together while she does her best to neatly paint sleek, shiny black polish onto Ambrosius's nails. Something must show on her face, because after a moment, Ambrosius shifts his knee slightly to nudge hers.

"You okay, Char?" he asks. She pauses and glances up at him, then back down at his nails. No time like the present, right? She carefully places the brush back in the nail polish and takes a deep breath, then squeezes her eyes shut.

"I like girls. I think they're pretty and I want to hold their hands and go on dates with them and....and maybe even kiss them!" she blurts, rushing the sentences out so that she can't chicken out of her admission. Ballister's hands pause in her hair, and she can hear Ambrosius's breath hitch. Silence passes between the three of them for what feels like forever, and she can feel her cheeks and ears burning. She eventually pries her eyes open, but she can't look away from Ambrosius's hands, nails not even half painted. "Say something...Please?" Slowly, Ballister's hands start moving again in her hair. He eventually reaches the ends, and a hair tie snaps as he ties off her hair.

"I, um...I feel the same way. About boys," he says. She turns her head to look up at him, and he's smiling shyly at her. It feels as if a weight is lifted off her chest, and she can't help but smile back at him.

"You do?" He nods, and she sighs and leans backward a little more, nudging against his legs. He chuckles and leans down, wrapping his arms around in front of her and nudging his head against hers. Ambrosius, however, has remained suspiciously quiet.

"I-" He cuts himself off, and Charlotte and Ballister look over at him. His face and ears are flushed red, and his mouth is twisted in a flustered expression as his eyes look everywhere that isn't them.

"Brosi?" Charlotte prompts cautiously, nerves twisting slightly again. His gaze flickers to her, then down at the ground.

"Me too," he blurts. His face turns even redder, giving a killer imitation of a tomato. "About, um...Liking boys." Instantly, the nerves are gone, and Charlotte smiles softly. She's released as she leans forward again, giving Ambrosius's hands a little squeeze while doing her best not to smudge his nails. Ballister shifts down to the floor beside her, reaching out to give Ambrosius's arm a squeeze. He looks up at them slowly, and Charlotte tilts her head. After a moment, the three of them start giggling, all anxiousness bubbling out of them.

"I've been trying to figure out how to tell you guys for months," Ballister says. Ambrosius looks over at him with wide eyes.

"Months? I just figured it out last week!" he exclaims. Charlotte giggles.

"I only figured it out when I realized I have a crush on a one of the girls in our class," she says. Now they're both looking at her, eyes practically sparkling.

"Who?" both demand, Ballister's hand landing on her wrist while Ambrosius leans toward her. Now Charlotte's cheeks warm for a different reason.

"You know Alieza?" Ambrosius gasps.

"Alieza Revereck?" She nods, and Ambrosius shifts to grab her hands, shaking them a little.

"Good Gloreth, you have to ask her out!"

"What? No! I could never do that! Are you crazy?"

"Oh, come on, Char, Alieza is so cool!" Ballister says, shaking her knee. She giggles, shaking her head, then waves her hands at them.

"Why am I getting all of the heat? What about you two? How did you realize?" she asks, pointing at them. Their cheeks darken almost in unison, and they glance at each other before looking away. Well, well, well...

Note: Alieza is another OC, but she won't really be focused on

They have a little hair braiding/playing and nail painting circle after that. Charlotte finishes Ambrosius's nails, then plays with his hair while he paints Ballister's nails. Then Ambrosius gets to braid Ballister's hair while Ballister paints Charlotte's nails. They're having fun and they gossip and giggle the whole time. Wholesome gay teens!

Alieza and Charlotte do eventually date! More on that later

@ammonitetheseaserpent @perfectkittystranger (please let me know if you would prefer I don't tag you, you just voiced interest so I thought I would make sure you don't miss the stuff)

#nimona #nimona oc #nimona movie #nimona 2023 #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #gay gay homosexual gay #fanfiction snippet I guess

13 notes · View notes

deadbydad · 1 year

Text

Vance Hopper x Finney Blake - Jaw/Neck Kisses

This is a request from @vanneyiscanon, I hope you enjoy!

Finney Blake loved a lot of things.

Whether it be his friends, sister, baseball, or space, the blonde loved all of those things because they were important to him.

But there was one thing that was more important to him.

Vance Hopper, who happens to be his boyfriend.

People would think that Finney would be lying of he told them that he was dating the bad boy who has anger issues, and the blonde couldn't blame them he was surprised when they first started dating.

But he had come to learn that they just misunderstood Vance.

The taller male was gentle and kind with Finney and treated the younger male like he was worth gold, which the older male thought so.

The two boys were currently hanging out at Vance's house, away from the freezing weather outside, and Finney was close to passing out due to how tired he was. The tests that the school gives the students should be a crime because of how long they are. And they're on stuff that the kids hadn't even learned yet.

The shorter male was always tired though and he blamed it on the insomnia, but the fact that his boyfriends bed was so soft and comfortable wasn't helping him stay awake.

Finney blamed that on Vance, since it was the taller males bed, plus he was wearing the other blondes shirt.

Which was super warm.

Vance in general was warm, if you asked Finney. Just the way the older male looked at him was enough to make the shorter boys face heat up.

His boyfriend was attractive, okay.

Finney must have spaced out at some point because he felt a gentle warm hand rest on his shoulder, causing the male to jump and let out a small yelp at the feeling.

"Oh shit, sorry babe didn't mean to wake you up." Finney turned around to glare at the taller male behind him who must have gotten out of the shower due to his curly hair being all wet and water droplets on his neck.

God Finney got so lucky with this man.

"I wasn't asleep," Finney stated as he sat up and stretched, "I was just resting my eyes." The blonde gently kicked the other males leg when he heard his lover let out a snort.

"Pretty sure that's the same fucking thing angel," Vance chuckled and making Finney roll his eyes at the statement.

There was a comfortable silence between the two boys, Vance had eventually laid down and pulled Finney close to him so that the shorter males back was resting against his boyfriends chest, the older males arms wrapped around his lover.

Finney sighed and pressed himself closer to the warmth he called his boyfriend that was currently humming a song into the skin of his neck, what song Finney didn't know but he's probably heard it before.

The male yawned.

"Tired," Vance asked as he lifted his head from where it was resting.

"A little," Finney replied with another yawn, "but I'll be fine." The male let a smile appear on his face when he felt his boyfriend once again rest his face and nuzzle the crook of the younger males neck, pressing a few soft kisses on the pale skin.

"Do I have to make you fall asleep, Finney Blake," the taller male teased into the younger males neck causing Finney to shiver.

"Try your worst Vance Hopper," Finney teased back as he turned his head so he could press a kiss to the taller males jaw and let out a squeak of surprise when he felt his boyfriend push him so he was laying on his back before kissing him hard.

Sighing against Vance's lips, Finney wrapped his arms around the other males necks and brought him closer to his lover so their chests were touching, Vance eventually finding the shorter males hand and intertwining their fingers.

Both pulled away for air but still held each other as if they were afraid to let the other one go.

"Is your plan on trying to make me fall asleep is just by kissing me," the short male asked as he pressed another quick kiss against his lovers lips.

"That was the plan bunny."

"Lets test that plan then love." The two males crashed their lips against each others once more.

Let's just say the plan worked.

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

I hope that people don't think I'm sexualizing anything because I'm not.

They just kiss a lot okay?

Anyway, @vanneyiscanon requested this one, I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed!

I am taking requests!

#vinney #vanney #vance x finney #finney x vance #vance hopper #finney blake #finney the black phone #vance the black phone #tbp finney #tbp vance #the black phone

76 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 4 months

Note

Solllll :( :( :( :( :( I think they need like. 30 more hugs :( Them plus Lae’zel was really cute though.,,,,, a red dragon descendant and a githyanki huehue love how they’d offer to become a mindflayer instead of her ;-; Also yeah Minthara and Halsin would be great 👀👀 + any other characters you want to write for .!! I’m assuming they bond with Minthara about bullying Gale early on if nothing else

Getting asks about Sol give me such a serotonin boost that I save answering them for the days I'm not feeling well so I can indulge myself <33333 I don't wanna consume them all in one day, they're as precious as candy.

And I wrote the Halsin, Minthara and other companions here!

So how about instead, here is how Sol would react to receiving a hug from the companions + Durge + Tav. Assuming everything happens in act 3.

Shadowheart

By that time they feel guilty for the way they treated her in act 1, they watch her walk towards them and wonder if she's going to slap them after their half-assed apology the other day that Tav delivered to Shadowheart without their permission.

Whatever. She has a right to, they tell themselves. It's nothing, they've felt worse and if it will make her feel better then so be it. So they don't move and stand waiting for her, holding her gaze without faltering.

They're ready for the pain but instead are met with her warm embrace. With her hands wrapping around them and cradling their back, with her face nuzzling between their neck and shoulders. Her armour plates feel cold against their exposed skin.

They hated how good sharrans were at reading others emotions, they hated how her hug tightened around them when she felt the lump stuck in their throat.

They want to say it, I'm sorry. It burns and keeps slipping from their tongue, it scorches them to admit it. It's weakness. Their arms stay still on their side, clenching and unclenching their sharp fingers into fists.

The battle of the absolute that awaits them right around the corner crosses their mind, they might very well die as if they've never lived to begin with.

Is this really what they want to be their legacy?

"I am...deeply sorry for-" they lift their hand, entangling their fingers in Shadowheart's hair and pushing her face further into their neck, making sure she cannot lift her head to see the glossiness in their eyes or tremble of their lips, "for everything."

They still can't hug her back, they don't feel like they deserve to.

"I know." Shadowheart says. She eventually pulls back, Sol turned their face away from her in shame by that point.

Wyll

The watch the reunion between him and his father with bitterness, green envy burning through their brown eyes.

They hold themselves back, they don't say anything, don't ruin this beautiful moment just because of their selfish desires. They have a half-mind to know when they should shut up.

Wyll doesn't. As he calls out to them to come here, join the hug. Sol thinks he must have lost his mind or something.

They give him that look of "dude this is your moment, enjoy it and let me be" but he's persistent. And apparently the apple didn't fall far from their tree for his father is approving of this.

Of Sol.

Okay, now they're fully embarrassed. There is no fucking way he thinks that they'll just waltz up to a three people hug in front of the whole camp as if they don't have a reputation to uphold.

But they were raised on those strick"never disobey your parents and elders" rules and fuck does that training kick in when Wyll's father calls over to them to come. Damn you generational trauma.

There is an awkward clacking of heels as they walk over to the father and son duo, with the reluctance of a dog being lead to a bathtub.

When Wyll eventually has to make the first move and pull them into a hug, Sol closes their eyes and stand there like 🧍.

This is so disgustingly sweet and wholesome they think they're going to throw up. Wyll shouldn't be sharing his happiness with them, he shouldn't be sharing his father and he shouldn't be sharing this hug. He more than earned all of them for everything he went through.

But he is...and Sol is shown love. Shown understanding from Wyll who knows what's it like to see others hug their parents when yours aren't around for you.

His father is a surprisingly understanding man, he treats Sol with kindness and not like the intruder they feel they are. Sol gains respect for him because of that, they still haven't forgiven him for what he did to Wyll but...the fact he is willing to atone for his mistakes and listen to sense is not something they ever expected.

Lae'zel

Honestly they're always happy to see Lae'zel and especially in act 3. Her presence always brings good fortune and news like "found some guys we gotta kill" or "Let's fight to the death again" ah her activities are always so thoughtful and fun.

Sol absolutely loves how they don't need to hold back around her, how no matter how much they burn her and engulf her in flames, she will still rise up to swing her big sword at them. Even when one of them goes too far, the other never holds a grudge and actually compliments them on their strength.

The way she talks about red dragons sometimes as if they're some majestic creatures. The way she doesn't condem their selfish or greedy nature, how she sees beauty in their absolute grace.

Sol tried to return the favour one time but didn't know how to, they asked Astarion and he suggested frogs so they tried talking to Lae'zel about how beautiful frogs are but it seemed to fly over her head. The next time it was her turn to cook, she made a special frogs dish for Sol to eat.

They munched on brunt frogs legs wondering if it might be a bad idea to trust Astarion. Or if they need to find and kill a dragon to feed to Lae'zel?

This whole situation is what resulted in the hug, she was talking to them about red dragons again one day when they commented how they actually smell like them too.

Lae'zel got quiet, observing them with cautious eyes before immediately lunging at them. She had her tiny nose pressed against their pulse point and all of her body wrapped around them in a very intimate hug.

"Hmm yes, I see that you were telling the truth." Lae'zel murmurs, still obserbed in their lineage and not aware od the fact Sol is too focused on the hug to register her words.

This is definitely one of the top ten best moments of their life, even better than that one time as a kid when their first ever scale started growing out of their face.

Sol wraps their arms around her, the two idiots stay like this for a while, hugging and talking about dragons and githyanki.

Gale

If Gale offers it they'll immediately reject it, so it has to happen by surprise or accident.

You see, they were just normally minding their own business around their side of the room when Gale came by, said how he has been thinking about something and he realised why Sol is so mean to him.

"I've concluded it must be your rough upbringing which have resulted in your misplaced mistrust in others." He spoke with such confidence and consideration, a sympathetic look in his puppy brown eyes. "

"So?" They replied.

"Soooo...I'm very willing to start a new page with you, here is to our future happy friendship!" Gale's words held so much power in them and sincerity, it was clear this is something he has been putting a lot of thought int

Sol froze as he pulled them into a hug, patting their back awkwardly. Gale closed his eyes reading to cast a counterspell at the tip of his tongue as he held strongly in the hug.

Then Sol wrapped their arms around his neck, his smile grew as he thought he finally cracked down their walls. Only for them to tighten their hold until he couldn't breath, cutting off his air until he loosen his grip around them.

They immediately broke away from his embrace.

"I would rather hug a cactus at least it doesn't smell like cheap magic."

Their friendship was rather short lived.

Halsin

Maybe it's his bear form and he's high on some honey and cuddles them, they don't recognise him and happily let this adorable bear nuzzle them. Animals never befriend them so easily, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and they haven't really been this close to a bear before. Even the most cuddly of cats run away from them.

Then you make a comment on how Halsin needs to tone down his honey consumption and it's like they were drenched in cold water.

Desperately kicking their way out of the heavy bear on top of them, clawing at the dirt to pull themselves away as if he's burning them alive. Halsin doesn't register their attempts and his fur is too thick for them to make any scratches.

So they do the only thing they know, they bite him, deep.

There is a metallic taste in their mouth and the smell of burnt fur follows after. They're seriously uncomfortable with this and want their personal space back.

Ugh the one time an adorable animal finally trusts them and it's this fake druid wannabe, they refuse to be on a team with him for a whole week after this incident. And keep snapping at anyone who touches them even if it's you.

Halsin seriously unnerves them. Even when he sincerely apologise after, they tell him they don't his apology, he should just keep his distance and stay away.

Minthara

There is no way either of them would start the hug, even by accident. Sol keeps their distant away from companions and Minthara is too smart and cautious to touch them, even by accident.

She does kinda of treat them as an endangerment and Sol does the same. Both are aware of how easily the other is to tick off.

You'll have to be the one to plan this hug, maybe it's a dare, or maybe you play the leader card. Whatever it is, both of them are really hesitant and would need a lot of convincing.

When it finally happens it's...awkward, stiff. Minthara insists on having water nearby and Sol insists on Minthara dropping her sword before the hug. It's like the awkward hug two dads would give to each other because their spouces pressured them into it.

You picked the most emotionally constipated people in camp for this.

It's over quickly and they don't speak about it. If you ask Sol how it felt, they tell you it's none of your business. If you ask Minthara, she'd say it was as disappointing as she thought, why did you even suggest this?

Both of them actually enjoyed it a bit.

Durge

You're struggling against your ropes, against the dark thoughts swarming your brain.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

It repeats, you can only focus on the Sorcerer kneeling besides you.

How delicious it would be to tear them limb from limb, to show them how weak they really are. Would they beg for mercy or would their pride make them a boring silent kill? How much torture can they endure before their mind breaks?

Sol is looking at you with defeated eyes. As if they've seen this sight before, as if this isn't their first time holding a loved one down.

Pain isn't a great cost. A lot of things are worth enduring it for. Beauty, love, family, power.

You.

They ignore your previous words of staying away as they lean down, hugging your struggling body against theirs. They're strong enough by this point to hold you down, strong enough to hold your snapping jaw close.

It's okay, the tell you, they'll give you whatever you ask for. Just stay, don't let the voices win, don't lose yourself.

They aren't always careful, they end up with a couple bone deep bites from you. But they never burn you, never look at you with any resentment. Only understanding, only compassion.

It's the longest hug they've ever given anyone.

They'll do whatever it takes to calm you down, they never want you to feel alone even in your most dangerous of states. They never want you to experience the shame or isolation that eats up at them.

Tav

They snapped at you in anger when you touched their flower, it's gotten so old that a mere single touch made one of the petals easily crumble and fall.

They said mean words, very mean things as they blamed you for ruining something that saved them. Seething rage blinding them to the hurt expression on your face.

But you're not snapping back, not taking the bait. Sol is growing more irritated, why can't you ever do anything right? They yell.

It doesn't matter how you react, or what you explain. They end up storming away. You don't see them the next day but their stuff is still there, their precious belongings still next to yours.

They'll eventually be back, after they cooled off. They don't meet your eyes, don't talk to you much.

You can corner them and force them to face you, tell them this is getting absurd and their silent treatment won't fix the situation, that if they're angry at you they should just say so.

They're not angry at you, they're angry at themselves, they confess. You shouldn't forgive them, you should be angry, you should hate them for how they can't control something so simple as their anger, for being mean to you over something so stupid.

...but that flower really meant a lot to them, Sol knows you didn't mean it. They it was old and a miracle it survived the many battles they've been through for this long. But all they felt is unbearable pain when they saw it crumble and fall. They tell you they'd have preferred you severed a limb of theirs instead.

It doesn't excuse their actions they know. You deserve better, they can't be better. This is a losing game you're playing with them, because no matter how hard they try they always slip, something one day will always make them snap.

And they'll always hurt you, no matter how much they love you. So please either hurt them back or go, don't be this selflessly kind. They don't have anything of worth to offer you.

...why are you still standing here? Didn't you hear them?

You want this? You want them as they are? God...You're really an idiot.

But you're their idiot.

They immediately hug you, apologising deeply for all the words they said. They don't want to let go, they never want to let go of you. Don't be cruel and take away the single speck of love they somehow managed to swidle out of this life, out of the destiny they were born to fullfill.

Their kind is not meant for love, but for power. And you make them feel the weakest they have ever felt. It's exhilarating.

#♡Sol #♡myocs #♡several characters

2 notes · View notes