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goingmerryfics · 29 days

Note

❤️ Your Blog. Can I request something? 🙏 Id love about Law and reader who is very affectionate and caring, e.g. brings him snacks in his office when he's working late, cheers him up when he is upset. All in all reminds Law alot of Cora.

Kind and caring S/O w/ Law

Content: Gender Neutral reader, SFW!

Notes* I love this idea! I got a lot of good ideas when I sat down to write this and it all pretty much amounts to “this man truly needs a break.” which means I went a little haywire with it. Spoilers for Dressrosa/Law's backstory

Happy reading :)

Law

Dating you was absolute bliss for Law

If he was shut up in his room working, he knew he could count on you to come visit eventually

Even if, after responding to your knocking and saying that he was busy, you still enter

You’ve got some lemon water and specially made Onigiri by your own hand all set up pretty in a tray

He tries not to smile too much while you set it down, kiss the top of his head, and quietly urge him to take a break- or at least stand and stretch because how he’s sitting can’t be good for his posture

Normally he wouldn’t pay that any mind, but you had an effect on him that he couldn’t explain. You gave him a special sort of feeling in his heart- a feeling that only one other person had ever given him in his entire life

Law gets up to stretch and to reach for you, that way he can press a kiss to your cheek and tell you he loves you

You’ve noticed he’s softer around you, though he never could quite tell you why

You also notice that whenever you two are sitting close or lying together, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing- he likes to look into your eyes as much as he can

He can’t explain it- it doesn’t matter that your eyes aren’t exactly the same colour as his. They’re kind, they’re caring, just like he is

One day, the heat on the submarine gives out and you seek Law out to ask a favour

“One of my sweaters? Yeah, you can borrow one. Just don’t ruin it.”

The warning means nothing, he knows you wouldn’t destroy any of his things on purpose

So you head for his room while he returns to helping the others fix the heat, shivering in your suit

Law’s room is an organized mess of books, clothes and sheets. He was never the type to keep anything clean for too long, but then again he was a busy man. You didn’t mind it, but you do know how he appreciates it when you can help him out with the little things. First, a sweater. You swear that you’re about to start seeing your breath from how cold it’s getting.

You dive into his closet and sort through his things for that yellow one you like, when you notice something interesting. Something hung up, obviously important since it’s in one of those zippable clothing protectors. A suit, maybe?

The thought of Law in a suit makes you squeal a bit. Now you have to see it.

Carefully, you take the hangar out and your first remark is at how incredibly light it is. It’s not heavy enough to be a full suit set, so you start to unzip it to satisfy your curiosity.

A few loose, black feathers hit the ground before you can figure out what you’re looking at. It’s a full feather coat. It looks like it’s been tailored- the collar has been cautiously cut with a loving hand, which makes you remember the strangely similar style of feather collar on his blue sweatshirt. There are also some messy holes in the back of it.

You hum curiously, and put it back into the protector bag for the time being. Then you grab the sweater you’d come here for, take the hangar, and bring the coat with you back to your room.

The heat returns. Heart Pirates huddle around the heat and try to warm up quickly, but Law has a better idea in mind on how to warm up. He also just really wants to see you in his clothing. But he spots something as he’s headed down the hall that makes his heart drop. A single black feather.

He’s wearing his blue sweater and he hasn't touched the coat. So why…

He rushes first to his room, throws the closet door open and his eyes widen at the missing coat, so he makes a B-Line for your room

It’s not that he thought you would wreck it, but it’s something he’d rather keep safe. Those feathers fell off every time he touched it, and he wanted so desperately to preserve the last item he’d ever have of his beloved Corazon.

When he reaches your room, he barges right in without knocking and finds you holding it up, looking it over. Your room is a mess of loose thread. Your desk has sewing scissors and a little ball with various sized sewing needles poking out of it, and your sewing machine is on.

“See?” You hold it up to him, showing off your handiwork. Slack-jawed, he scans over the once bullet holes that have now been expertly closed and repaired. “I’ve never seen you wear this, but I guess it’s because all those feathers kept falling off, right?”

He’s silent, but he knows just what he wants to say. It just takes him a moment.

“Law?” You ask, smile falling a bit, thinking maybe you’d done something wrong.

“Put it on.”

“Huh?” You take another good look at the coat. “You sure?”

He nods, and watches how you pull it over your shoulders. It’s way too big for you- did a damn giant wear this!? -but you still strike a pose, holding up a peace sign next to your face for Law and grinning wide.

“Do I look good?”

He takes a few steps forward. You open your eyes again and get the quick glimpse of tears in his eyes before he pulls you in for a hug tight enough to crack your spine. You can hear his quiet sobs and gasps in your ear, and it breaks your heart to think that maybe you’d done something wrong.

But he whispers that he loves you, and then he whispers it 3 more times just to be sure. You tell him you love him too, and he takes a deep breath to pull himself together.

“Are you ok, Law?” You ask, eyes glued to him. “I can put it back if-”

“No, just…” He wipes his face, then takes your hands. “I think there’s someone I’d like to tell you about.”

#one piece #harleywritesop #hwop #law x reader #op law #law one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar op #one piece spoilers

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qqueenofhades · 5 months

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Hello! This is kind of a weird ask, I'm sorry to bother you, but seeing as you're a very intelligent studied historian that I deeply respect, I was hoping you could offer some advice? Or like, things i could read? Lately, i feel like my critical thinking skills are emaciated and its scaring the shit out of me. I feel very slow and like I'm constantly missing important info in relation to news/history/social activism stuff. Thats so vague, sorry, but like any tips on how i can do better?

Aha, thank you. There was recently a good critical-thinking infograph on my dash, so obviously I thought I remembered who reblogged it and checked their blog, it wasn't them, thought it was someone else, checked their blog, it also wasn't them, and now I can't find it to link to. Alas. But I will try to sum up its main points and add a few of my own. I'm glad you're taking the initiative to work on this for yourself, and I will add that while it can seem difficult and overwhelming to sort through the mass of information, especially often-false, deliberately misleading, or otherwise bad information, there are a few tips to help you make some headway, and it's a skill that like any other skill, gets easier with practice. So yes.

The first and most general rule of thumb I would advise is the same thing that IT/computer people tell you about scam emails. If something is written in a way that induces urgency, panic, the feeling that you need to do something RIGHT NOW, or other guilt-tripping or anxiety-inducing language, it is -- to say the least -- questionable. This goes double if it's from anonymous unsourced accounts on social media, is topically or thematically related to a major crisis, or anything else. The intent is to create a panic response in you that overrides your critical faculties, your desire to do some basic Googling or double-checking or independent verification of its claims, and makes you think that you have to SHARE IT WITH EVERYONE NOW or you are personally and morally a bad person. Unfortunately, the world is complicated, issues and responses are complicated, and anyone insisting that there is Only One Solution and it's conveniently the one they're peddling should not be trusted. We used to laugh at parents and grandparents for naively forwarding or responding to obviously scam emails, but now young people are doing the exact same thing by blasting people with completely sourceless social media tweets, clips, and other manipulative BS that is intended to appeal to an emotional gut rather than an intellectual response. When you panic or feel negative emotions (anger, fear, grief, etc) you're more likely to act on something or share questionable information without thinking.

Likewise, you do have basic Internet literacy tools at your disposal. You can just throw a few keywords into Google or Wikipedia and see what comes up. Is any major news organization reporting on this? Is it obviously verifiable as a fake (see the disaster pictures of sharks swimming on highways that get shared after every hurricane)? Can you right-click, perform a reverse image search, and see if this is, for example, a picture from an unrelated war ten years ago instead of an up-to-date image of the current conflict? Especially with the ongoing Israel/Palestine imbroglio, we have people sharing propaganda (particularly Hamas propaganda) BY THE BUCKETLOAD and masquerading it as legitimate news organizations (tip: Quds News Network is literally the Hamas channel). This includes other scuzzy dirtbag-left websites like Grayzone and The Intercept, which often have implicit or explicit links to Russian-funded disinformation campaigns and other demoralizing or disrupting fake news that is deliberately designed to turn young left-leaning Westerners against the Democrats and other liberal political parties, which enables the electoral victory of the fascist far-right and feeds Putin's geopolitical and military aims. Likewise, half of our problems would be solved if tankies weren't so eager to gulp down and propagate anything "anti-Western" and thus amplify the Russian disinformation machine in a way even the Russians themselves sometimes struggle to do, but yeah. That relates to both Russia/Ukraine and Israel/Palestine.

Basically: TikTok, Twitter/X, Tumblr itself, and other platforms are absolutely RIFE with misinformation, and this is due partly to ownership (the Chinese government and Elon Fucking Musk have literally no goddamn reason whatsoever to build an unbiased algorithm, and have been repeatedly proven to be boosting bullshit that supports their particular worldviews) and partly due to the way in which the young Western left has paralyzed itself into hypocritical moral absolutes and pseudo-revolutionary ideology (which is only against the West itself and doesn't think that the rest of the world has agency to act or think for itself outside the West's influence, They Are Very Smart and Anti-Colonialist!) A lot of "information" in left-leaning social media spaces is therefore tainted by this perspective and often relies on flat-out, brazen, easily disprovable lies (like the popular Twitter account insisting that Biden could literally just overturn the Supreme Court if he really wanted to). Not all misinformation is that easy to spot, but with a severe lack of political, historical, civic, or social education (since it's become so polarized and school districts generally steer away from it or teach the watered-down version for fear of being attacked by Moms for Liberty or similar), it is quickly and easily passed along by people wanting trite and simplistic solutions for complex problems or who think the extent of social justice is posting the Right Opinions on social media.

As I said above, everything in the world is complicated and has multiple factors, different influences, possible solutions, involved actors, and external and internal causes. For the most part, if you're encountering anything that insists there's only one shiningly righteous answer (which conveniently is the one All Good and Moral People support!) and the other side is utterly and even demonically in the wrong, that is something that immediately needs a closer look and healthy skepticism. How was this situation created? Who has an interest in either maintaining the status quo, discouraging any change, or insisting that there's only one way to engage with/think about this issue? Who is being harmed and who is being helped by this rhetoric, including and especially when you yourself are encouraged to immediately spread it without criticism or cross-checking? Does it rely on obvious lies, ideological misinformation, or something designed to make you feel the aforementioned negative emotions? Is it independently corroborated? Where is it sourced from? When you put the author's name into Google, what comes up?

Also, I think it's important to add that as a result, it's simply not possible to distill complicated information into a few bite-sized and easily digestible social media chunks. If something is difficult to understand, that means you probably need to spend more time reading about it and encountering diverse perspectives, and that is research and work that has to take place primarily not on social media. You can ask for help and resources (such as you're doing right now, which I think is great!), but you can't use it as your chief or only source of information. You can and should obviously be aware of the limitations and biases of traditional media, but often that has turned into the conspiracy-theory "they never report on what's REALLY GOING ON, the only information you can trust is random anonymous social media accounts managed by God knows who." Traditional media, for better or worse, does have certain evidentiary standards, photographing, sourcing, and verifying requirements, and other ways to confirm that what they're writing about actually has some correspondence with reality. Yes, you need to be skeptical, but you can also trust that some of the initial legwork of verification has been done for you, and you can then move to more nuanced review, such as wording, presentation of perspective, who they're interviewing, any journalistic assumptions, any organizational shortcomings, etc.

Once again: there is a shit-ton of stuff out there, it is hard to instinctively know or understand how to engage with it, and it's okay if you don't automatically "get" everything you read. That's where the principle of actually taking the time to be informed comes in, and why you have to firmly divorce yourself from the notion that being socially aware or informed means just instantly posting or sharing on social media about the crisis of the week, especially if you didn't know anything about it beforehand and are just relying on the Leftist Groupthink to tell you how you should be reacting. Because things are complicated and dangerous, they take more effort to unpick than just instantly sharing a meme or random Twitter video or whatever. If you do in fact want to talk about these things constructively, and not just because you feel like you're peer-pressured into doing so and performing the Correct Opinions, then you will in fact need to spend non-social-media time and effort in learning about them.

If you're at a university, there are often subject catalogues, reference librarians, and other built-in tools that are there for you to use and which you SHOULD use (that's your tuition money, after all). That can help you identify trustworthy information sources and research best practices, and as you do that more often, it will help you have more of a feel for things when you encounter them in the wild. It's not easy at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes more so, and will make you more confident in your own judgments, beliefs, and values. That way when you encounter something that you KNOW is wrong, you won't be automatically pressured to share it just to fit in, because you will be able to tell yourself what the problems are.

Good luck!

#coffeeandcoyotes #ask #school stuff #critical thinking

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violettduchess · 6 months

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A/N: I am so happy to be able to share my gift for the lovely @ikeromantic 💜 A deep dive into your blog told me you love AUs as much as I do so I was so happy to create one for our favorite Lelouchian.

Thank you to @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen for hosting and for being supportive, accommodating and all-around superstars. 💜

Clavis x Emma

Magic AU, Soulmates AU, First Kiss, Enemies to Lovers

WC: ~2k

The sun is glowing a bright lemon-yellow as Emma closes the wooden door to her shop. It’s a beautiful door, made of dark walnut and decorated with silvery moons and stars. Across the top, the words “Belle Magie” are etched into the hard wood. At night, the lettering glows a soft gold. Humming to herself, she wraps her free hand around the ornate brass doorknob and a subtle, warm orange glow emanates from her fingertips. The moons and stars flash once and she hears a satisfying, soft whoosh of magic. The door to her shop is now locked via enchantment and no one except Emma will be able to enter and poke around at all the treasures that line her shelves and counters.

Smoothing down her ochre and black robes, she carefully makes her way across the cobblestone street to the shop that is literally across from hers. Her nose wrinkles at the sign that hangs above the wooden door: “Lelouchian Enchantments” written in swirling, silver lettering that she would say is barely legible. His note, written in the same dizzying writing, is clutched tightly in her hand as she pushes open the lavender-colored door with a celestial design nearly identical to her own. But that is where the similarity ends.

Whereas Emma’s shop is neat, organized by ingredients, everything with its own place and labeled in her own very careful handwriting, his is a gigantic explosion of almost anything one can imagine. Bottles filled with liquids of all colors and bottles with questionable things floating in them, dried herbs and seeds in pots and packets, a whole section of plants that bite anyone who comes near them, not to mention odd gemstones, vibrant powders, paints and feathers. She ducks underneath the silver vines that have wrapped themselves around the wooden ceiling beams, ignoring the way they contract and rustle their leaves at her, and approaches the counter where she finds Clavis himself, carefully sorting what looks like glittery kidney beans.

“I got your missive. I believe it broke in through my window in order to deliver itself.”

At the sound of her voice, he turns, golden eyes gleaming like copper in sunlight. He wipes his hands on the folds of his pale lavender robes, grinning slowly. She is forced to admit to herself for the millionth time that Clavis is hardly unpleasant to look at, per say. But oh, how he irks her, with his smooth words, flamboyant personality and flashy enchantments.

“Oh dearie me, when I said it was urgent, I suppose that gave it permission to cause destruction. I apologize.”

She bats away several tiny golden motes that have taken an interest in her chestnut hair and Clavis lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers in invitation. The golden pinpricks of light float towards him, circling his wrist and then solidify into a gold bracelet.

Refusing to be distracted by his tricks, she unscrolls his letter and lays it on the counter.

“Well? Where is it?”

“So impatient,” he tuts as he kneels down, lifting an ornate silver box from under the counter. It’s about the size of his hand and she can’t help but watch the way he trails his fingertips over the decorative embellishments. He has such elegant hands.

One brow arches slowly as she crosses her arms, shoving that thought away and burying it in annoyance.. “Well…..are you going to open it….?”

He sighs theatrically. “Some people have no sense of showmanship.”

Her lips quirk into a small, involuntary grin. “I’m not one of the poor suckers who come in here for your tricks and potions, Lelouch. Now open the box.”

He tilts his head, clearly enjoying how much she is trying to hide her curiosity. His hand rests on the lid of the box but doesn’t move.

“Don’t you want to know the story of how I acquired such a treasure? Why, it’s a tale of mighty heroics the likes of-”

“No. No, I do not.”

He pretends to be offended but the light in his eyes gives away the truth.

“But it involves a goblin merchant from Benitoite and a heartsick wizard from the Jade Forest and-”

“And a dragon and a sea witch and a bloody one-eyed pegasus. Clavis, just open the box!”

He laughs and it is the needle deflating the balloon of irritation that had overtaken her. She’s never met anyone with a laugh quite like his. It’s almost musical, but in the way of the inviting, simple melody of a children’s song. Something that stays with her, imprinting itself on her mind.

“Such an impatient pumpkin.”

“Don’t call me pumpkin.” The response is automatic, a reflex built over the long while she has known him. The first time Clavis had seen her do magic and seen the yellow-orange glow her magic emanates, he had bestowed her with that aggravating nickname.

Nimble fingers curl over the lid of the box and then he lifts it, revealing a round, milky-white stone nestled into a bed of black velvet. It reminds her immediately of the moon against a starless night sky.

She tilts her head quizzically. “This is the all-power Amor Lapis?” She had imagined something called the “Love Stone” being far more ostentatious, something pink or red and wild with sparkles. Something that would take her breath away. This stone, while pretty in its own way, looks rather ordinary.

“Such a skeptic.” He lifts the stone from its box, holding it in the palm of his hand. “It will only glow when two soulmates have found each other.” He lifts his gaze to her, his smile playful. “Know any perfect couples?”

She rolls her eyes, reaching out to touch the stone. “There’s no such thing as a perfect-” Her fingers brush Clavis’s palm and suddenly, the middle of the white stone begins to brighten, a soft glow radiating out from the center.

She jerks her hand away even as he nearly drops it. Her heart roars to life, knocking wildly around inside her chest.

Neither of them move and then, at the same time they both do, Clavis uncharacteristically fumbling to put the stone back in its box and she taking several steps back, one hand curling into the velvet folds of her cloak.

“It’s broken! It’s clearly defective!” Why does her voice sound just a bit shrill to her ears?

He clears his throat. She’s rarely seen him so rattled.

“It….oh dear…..maybe it is.” He frowns, staring down at the stone, at the dull, cream color of it, no glow to be seen. Then he draws in a breath, one that even she can hear shaking and looks at her. There is something unfamiliar in the depths of his sunrise eyes.

“We should try that again.”

“Try what again, exactly?”

“Touching.”

She should be balking at the very suggestion.

She should already be halfway out of his crazy shop.

She shouldn’t be stepping closer again, her gaze jumping from the stone back to him and then back again.

And she really really should not be saying-

“Alright. To-to prove its deficiency.”

The smooth, dark counter is a barrier between them, one that feels like armor, something that will protect her although what she needs protecting from is uncertain, some nebulous thing forming on the edges of her consciousness, some unknown dream rising from the shadows of slumber.

Clavis then holds out his hand, palm up, his gaze meeting hers. Her heartbeat drums wildly through her veins, a rhythm she has never known before. Slowly she lifts her hand and places it in his. His skin is cool and smooth, soft in a way she would not have expected. Emma can feel his magic just here, flowing through him. It feels shockingly calm, not the wild chaos she thought it might be but soothing, like the scent of lavender, the soft pastels of the sky at sundown. She can feel her own magic responding, warming as it flows through her.

Beneath their joined hands, the Amor Lapis begins glowing again, a soft white light like a tiny flame igniting inside the stone. Her heartbeat roaring in her ears, she slowly withdraws her hand from his and watches as the glow dims and then, when they are no longer touching, winks off like a tiny candle snuffed out by a breeze. When Emma has gathered enough courage, she raises her gaze from the milky-colored stone to Clavis and her heart trips over its own beat. His eyes rival the glow of the stone, something new burning in their golden depths. The light of revelation. The light of truth. The light of desire.

When he finally speaks, his voice sounds soft, breathy in a way that causes Emma to bite the inside of her lip at the sound.

“Dearie me,” he murmurs, his gaze locked with hers, bright with an intensity that feels almost physical. “If that happens when we touch hands, imagine what might happen if we actually kiss.”

The word lingers between them, shimmering in the air like desert heat over sand dunes. Emma unconsciously licks her lips and Clavis’s gaze drops there, fast as quicksilver. His own lips part slightly as he stares at the full curve of her lower lip, the sweet bow of the top. His own voice, his own words, echo like thunder between them.

….if we actually…..

….kiss….

Emma hasn't moved, hasn’t said a word, her soft eyes wide as a deer’s startled by a sudden, unexpected sound. And then he realizes what he said, what he has actually suggested and shame floods him, a tsunami of embarrassment that washes away the glimmer of hope, the clouds of desire that had overtaken him.

What the hell was he thinking, talking like that? As if someone like her, someone so intelligent and kind and talented, someone beautiful inside and out, would ever be soulmates with someone like him. Forget soulmates, she doesn’t even like him.

He hangs in head, soft twilight locks falling across his forehead, his knuckles white as he grips the counter with trembling hands. Stupid. Idiot. Never good enough. Never smart enough. Never ever would he be enough for someone else.

“Nevermind, I lost myself for a moment.” The words are acrid on his tongue and he feels the hot wash of color staining his cheeks and neck. “Obviously, there’s no way–”

Her hands are suddenly gripping those warm cheeks, pulling him towards her, forcing him to lean over the counter, above the stone, where she presses her lips to his. The Amor Lapis explodes with radiance, a tiny supernova encased by smooth stone. Even with closed eyes, Emma notices the brightening of the light but right now, she does not care. Because right now, she is holding Clavis’s face in her hands, and she is falling falling falling into kissing him.

At first he freezes, shock turning his blood to ice water in his veins. But then he realizes her mouth is really there, pressed against his, and then the burst of light automatically closes his eyes and the shock begins to thaw.

Now all he feels is the warmth of her kiss, the tentative movement of her lips and he gasps, reaching across the counter to touch her. Cradling each other’s face, they kiss, at first slowly, drinking in the fragile newness of the sensation, the unveiling of the truth that has been growing in both their hearts, quietly. Steadily. And then novelty slowly turns to pleasure, to desire. He grows bolder, sliding a hand down to the nape of her neck, holding her there so he can part her lips and sink into the sweet taste of her. If this is a dream, may he never wake up.

Emma sighs against him, a sound that echoes the twinkling of diamond-bright stars in a black velvet sky. All this time….all this time she’s been falling in love and never even realized it.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. Neither of them can say when they finally pull away from one another. Breathless, light-headed, floating, they both glance down at the Amor Lapis. The stone is luminous, glowing like a tiny moon dropped from the heavens.

And it will continue to give off its beautiful light, for the rest of their days.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri clavis #clavis lelouch #ikemen clavis #ikemen prince exchange #magic au #soulmates au #first kiss #enemies to lovers #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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viking-raider · 5 months

Text

Thankful

Summary: For Thanksgiving, you decide to take part of a military support group event and host a Veteran, having them over for dinner. Forming a lasting bond with a certain Captain.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Angst, Mention of Loss of Family Member, Mourning, Cold Mother, Embarrassed!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Use, Fluff, Friendly Bets, Southern Charm

Inspiration: It’s for Thanksgiving. 🍗

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS! My Syverson's first name is Austin.

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

You had received the message from one of the countless Military support groups you were a part of about the Sponsoring a Veteran for Thanksgiving event, and if you were interested in participating. You had hesitated for a couple days, before finally caving. You didn't have much family left of your own, just your mother. Since your father passed, when you were a kid and your only sibling, a brother, had been killed in the line of duty. Which was why you were a member of the support groups, looking to keep a closeness to him, and find some sort of peace with his death.

“All right.” The lead organizer, retired Lieutenant Sarah Timmans, sighed, looking over her clipboard at the list of names of all the Veterans that had been signed up for the event. “Your mother knows you're hosting a Vet, right?” She asked, cocking a brow at you, knowing how sensitive and touchy your mother was still about being around anything directly Military.

“I told her, I was bringing a friend over.” You answered, biting your lip nervously, knowing your mother's own mood swings on the subject.

“Girl, she's going to flip out on you.” Sarah said, shaking her head, eyes bulging. “Maybe, you should just do something one-on-one with them?” She suggested, trying to bypass a disaster.

“She's expecting us, and I'll get an earful, if I skip another family gathering.”

Sarah snorted at you, smirking. “It's your KP!” She teased, going down the list to find your name and who you'd been assigned. “So, your Vet is Captain Austin Syverson. He just retired seven months ago after nineteen years in the service of the U.S Army. Special Forces.” She informed you, looking up from the clipboard to scan the crowded room for a moment.

“Ah, there he is!” She smiled, motioning behind you.

Turning around and following her gaze, you were surprised for a moment, standing on the other side of the room, in a small cluster of other Vets, was a tall, thickly muscular guy, with a shaved head and well groomed beard. Everything about him exuded authority, self-confidence and calm. He was so damn handsome in his pair of dark wash blue jeans, brown cowboy boots and fleshly ironed, black dress shirt that was tucked in, showing off his belt buckle. Your insides tingled as you stared at him, throat going dry.

“Damn, that's a Texas boy.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Sure is.” Sarah agreed, checking him out as well. “You should go introduce yourself, before he thinks you stood him up.” She added, a hint of encouragement in her voice.

“God, you're right.” You started, frightened he just might, then weaved through the crowd towards him, pausing for a moment, until he noticed you. “Hi there.” You beamed up at him, your knees like a nervous jelly.

“Ma'am.” Syverson greeted you back with a Southern drawl, tipping his head forward.

“I'm your host, Captain Syverson.” You informed him, introducing yourself.

“Oh.” He replied, giving you a proper look over, a smile pulling over his lips as he took your lovely figure in the white, knee-length dress covered in delicate yellow flowers, paired with black flats. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He said, his bright blue eyes meeting yours once more. “You can just call me, Sy.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Sy.” You answered, cordially extending your hand.

Smirking broader, Sy gently took your hand in his, shaking it. “I'm grateful that you've allowed me impose myself on you and your family's holiday.”

“Oh, it's quite all right.” You waved it off, shrugging your shoulders. “It's really just me and my mom, so nothing major.”

“Well, I'm just a Captain, so it'll literally be nothing Major.” Sy quipped, making the group around him crackle at the inside joke.

You dropped your head, hiding your amused smile, knowing the two of you were more than likely to get along, if he had that sense of humor. “Fair.” You nodded, lifting your head. “More than fair. Well, we can leave whenever you like.”

Sy turned over his wrist to glance at his watch. “We can go now, if you like.” He replied, twisting to a chair that was behind him and picking up a black, denim Sherpa coat off the back. “I'll see you boys later. Have a good Thanksgiving.” He bid the men, patting a couple on the shoulder, before following you out of the building.

“You can follow me to my place or we can ride together.” You told Sy, standing on the sidewalk with him, chewing on your lip.

“I can follow.” Sy answered, smiling down at you. “My truck's just over there.” He said, motioning over to the big, 2021 Dodge Ram, parked a short distance away.

“Okay. I'm just right there.” You informed him, pointing out your little KIA Niro.

“On your lead then, Major.” Sy quipped, winking at you, before heading off towards his truck.

“Christ,” You huffed, watching after him for a moment, your hand moving up to a necklace around your neck. “He reminds me so much of you, Phelan.” You sighed, then made for your vehicle.

Pulling out of the parking space, your phone started to ring, so you connected the car's Bluetooth. “Mother.” You answered, glancing in your rear-view, to make sure Sy was behind you, before you started out of the parking lot and into the street.

“How much longer are you going to be?” Your mother snapped through the car's speakers.

“I'm just leaving now, mom.” You sighed, pressing your lips together. “I had to find my friend and now we're heading there now. We should be there in about ten or so minutes.”

“Why is he spending Thanksgiving with us? Doesn't he have his own family?” She demanded, clearly pacing the house.

“I'm sure he has a family, mother. But I invited him over to ours and he accepted. So, please, be nice to him. He's a very polite and outstanding person, who doesn't need to be pestered and guilt tripped, or reminded his mother is lucky, that her son is still alive and not in the military and so on.” You hoped to warn and deter her from her usual interaction with the males she came into contact with. “Let's just have a nice dinner, for once.”

“How can we, when your brother isn't here.” She growled, then the line went dead.

“At least, I'm here.” You sighed, deflated by her words. “I should really warn Sy before we get into the house.” You thought, then pushed that unpleasantness aside.

Sy managed to keep behind your car, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. He felt a little nervous about going to a random, pretty young lady's home to have Thanksgiving dinner with her mother. However, he didn't have any other plans for the holiday under his belt, other than staying on the ranch he'd started up on his return home with Aika.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop.” He commented aloud, following you off the on-ramp.

It would have just been him and his pup, working the horses all day, before making another ten minute meal and sitting in front of his laptop, since he still hadn't gotten around to buying himself a proper tv for the living room. So, he let one of his buddies nag him into signing up for the event. Sy wasn't at all disappointed either.

You were more than easy on his eyes.

Finally making it outside your place, you got out and met Sy in your driveway, shifting glances between him and the front door.

“Are you all right?” Sy asked, squinting down at you.

“Okay, look.” You blurted out, not looking back at him. “My mom is super touchy about the military.” You started to explain to Sy, giving him an embarrassed glance.

“Why?” He frowned, confused.

Your shoulders slumped slightly and a tired expression washed over your face. “My brother died in Afghanistan six years ago. My mom has taken that to her heart and soul. So anything military tends to set her off.”

“Then, should I even be here?” Sy asked, concerned about causing your mother any distress.

“It's my house and you're my guest.” You told him, bluntly. “I want you here for dinner. It'll be nice to have someone over that might actually engage with me.” You said, heading up the footpath towards the front door. “And not remind me that I'm not my dead, older brother.” You added under your breath, but Sy's sharp ear heard you all the same.

“Mom!” You called out, toeing off your shoes as you stood in the entry with Sy. “We're here.”

“Took long enough.” Her voice echoed back somewhere in the house.

You looked up at Sy. “I'm so sorry.” You mouthed, shaking your head.

“It's all right.” He smiled, his hand touching the back of your arm.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, showing him into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Got wine, a couple bottles.” You twisted your upper half to peek at an upper shelf. “Looks like she's left my Ardbeg whiskey alone.”

“I wouldn't mind a little whiskey.”

Nodding, you shut the fridge and got down two glasses with the whiskey bottle. “Straight or on the rocks?”

“What are you having?” Sy asked, leaning back against your sink, a twinkle of mischievous curiosity in his eyes.

“The rocks.” You answered, a playful smirk tugging on your lips.

Sy drew a breath in through his nose, pressing his lips together as he nodded. “Impressed.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled, grabbing a couple ice cubes from the freezer and dropped them into your glasses, then poured you and Sy a generous amount of amber liquid. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Sy tipped his head, taking the glass from you and took a sip. “Damn, that's smooth.”

“Mmm, for a twenty year old bottle, it should be.” You snorted, taking a gulp of yours.

“Twenty years.” Sy choked slightly. “Damn, almost as long as I was in--” He caught himself, eyes shooting to the two kitchen entrances. “Well, you know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a little stiff, praying your mother was lurking nearby, and polished off your drink, before moving over to the oven, revealing a nice sized turkey, just starting to turn a golden brown, filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering scent. “I started this about an hour and a half ago, so it should have about another hour or so to go. While it does that, I can show you around.”

“And, if you're as much of a Texan as I think you are, I'll pop the football game on.”

“You don't have to put the game on.” Sy laughed, feeling called out. “We can watch whatever you and your mother want. I'd hate to impose.”

“Captain Austin Syverson, you're not imposing.” You informed him, putting your foot down.

Sy's eyes widened and he gave you a half smirk. “I do love a woman that takes charge. Yes, ma'am, if you say so.”

“Besides, I'd love to see the Chiefs kick the Cowboys ass.” You added, teasingly.

“Oh, you're a traitor to your home state!” Sy gasped, horror on his face.

“Texas isn't my home state.” You giggled at him, then tisked. “Kansas isn't either, to be far.” You snorted, amused by the banter. “But I like Mahomes.”

“What's wrong with Dak Prescott?”

“Nothing! He's a great QB. I'm just a Chiefs girl.”

“I may have to call this Thanksgiving off.” Sy said, draining his whiskey glass and set it on the counter behind him and pushed off the edge. “To eat at the same table as a Chiefs girl, may just be too much for this ol' Texas boy.”

You were worried for a moment that Sy was genuine, and felt terrible for bringing it up, until you finally noticed the look in his eye and relaxed. He had a dry humor and pulled it out on you, catching you good.

“Shoot, you had me there.” You chuckled, breathy.

He winked at you, amusing you more with his cute double blink.

“Well,” You sighed, looking at the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.”

“A very nice kitchen.” Sy echoed, nodding and rubbing a hand over the counter top. “Nice and clean.”

“Thank you, I do my best.” You replied, bowing your head. “Out that way is the dining room, where we'll be having dinner.” You said, motioning to your right, and Sy peeked in, finding a long, glass table already set for three people with nice little autumn decorations as a centerpiece. “Over here, is the living room, where we'll probably be starting our football rivalry.”

You showed him into the living room, just as your mother came downstairs, in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, a tank top and an open bathrobe, a half glass of white wine clutched in her hand. You felt a cold shard of embarrassment go down your back. You had hoped, when you told her you were going to get Sy, she would have dressed into something—anything.

“Mom, this is Sy.” You told her, keeping your voice even. “Sy, this is my mother, Dana.” You introduced them, chewing the inside of your lip to bits.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” Sy greeted her politely, nodding his head kindly, like nothing was out of place.

She looked Sy over, taking a gulp of her wine. “How do you and my daughter know each other?” She inquired, lifting a brow at him.

You stiffened, you hadn't considered fielding that question from her while Sy was over.

“Work.” Sy said, casually.

“So, she's your accountant?” Dana pressed and showed no sign of easing off.

“I am.” You chimed in, hoping to get her to drop the subject and leave Sy alone.

“That she is.” Sy confirmed, backing you up. “Helps me out with my ranch.” He told Dana, tapping that belt buckle at his waist, bearing the Hook Hill Ranch logo on it.

“Hmm.” Your mother grunted, not sounding convinced. “Why aren't you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She asked, giving Sy a hard look.

“Mom!” You snapped, horrified.

“It's all right.” He assured you, giving you a soft smile. “I'm an only child. I've never known my father and my mother ran off, when I was ten years old, leaving me to be raised by uncle, her brother. He had a heart attack three years ago, while milkin' his cows. So, it's just me and my dog, Aika, nowadays. Your daughter was kind enough to ask me over to your Thanksgiving dinner, and I accepted.”

“Satisfied?” You asked, annoyed your mother caused Sy to divulge such personal information.

Rolling her eyes, your mother turned in a flare of her bathrobe and headed back upstairs.

“Turkey will be done in an hour!” You called after her, with no reply. “I'm so sorry.” You said, turning back to Sy.

“It's okay.” He said softly, more concerned for you. “Is there anything I can do to help you finish up with dinner?”

“Um,” You tapped your foot. “No, I don't think so. Besides, you're my guest. You should relax.” You told him, waving over to the couch. “I can handle everything.” You assured him, rounding the arm of the couch to swipe the remote of the coffee table and turned the tv on, quickly finding the football game. “Ooh, Cowboys are beating the Chiefs by two points!” You hissed, casting a glance over your shoulder at Sy.

Sy moved to join you, holding your gaze. “I bet you a round of drinks, at a later time, that the Cowboys beat your Chiefs.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Syverson?” You asked, surprised.

“I am.” He admitted, unashamed.

“Then, you're on.” You grinned, giving him a cocky look. “But, if the Chiefs win, I want to see your ranch.”

“Bold.” Sy smirked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I'll even cook for you.”

“Sold.” You agreed, extending your hand out to him.

He shook your hand, then sat down on the couch, getting comfortable to watch the game, while you returned to the kitchen. Pausing for a moment, you refilled his whiskey glass and took it out to him, giving him a soft smile as you set the cool glass down on a coaster and went back to prepping dinner. Sy watched you over the back of the couch, moving and bumping about, taking a deep breath and taking all the lovely smells of your hard work wafting towards him and making his belly rumble.

Lord have mercy, she's gorgeous.

“You sweet on my daughter?” Dana's voice came up behind him.

Sy's head swung around to look back at her, seeing she'd finally gotten dressed, now wearing a pair of black leggings and a loose, cream colored jumper, but no shoes or socks. “I just might be.” He answered, meeting her gaze head on. “She's a sweet, generous young lady.”

“Young lady, how old are you?” Dana huffed, dropping down into a recliner at the end of the couch.

“I'm thirty-eight.” Sy replied, with an odd amusement.

Dana looked Sy over, her gray eyes scrutinizing. “At least you're both in your thirties.” She huffed, curling her legs underneath her and glared at the tv.

What a curious woman. Sy blinked, shaking his head at her.

The two of them sat quietly, not speaking or interacting with each other any further. Which didn't bother either Sy or Dana. You peeked in at them from time to time, scurrying out to fill Sy's glass, whenever you noticed it was empty and always asking if he needed or wanted something, before vanishing back into the kitchen or dining room.

You wanted the dinner to be as great as possible for Sy, and your mother.

“Dinner is ready, everyone!” You declared, coming into the living room, glancing at the football score, discovering the Chiefs had recovered since the last time you'd entered, now ahead by four points.

“Smells delicious.” Sy complimented you, as he and your mother came into the dining room, finding the set table.

The turkey was juicy and golden-brown, slices already carved and on a plate beside it, with sides of stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls and cornbread muffins, yams with marshmallows, peas and asparagus, accompanied with pecan and pumpkin pie. There were two decanters of red and white wine, a bottle of Ardbeg, and a pitcher of iced tea.

“Thank you.” You grinned with shy pride, biting the inside of your lip. “Sit wherever you like and dig in.” You said, motioning to the chairs around the table, before slipping into one.

Sy joined you, winking at you, as he picked up a plate and started helping himself, piling his plate with meat, rolls, yams and cornbread. “Mmm, this is amazing.” He hummed, nodding his head and chewing his mouthful of turkey and mashed potatoes.

You were giddy that Sy was so in love with your cooking, glancing towards your mother, who was at the end of the table. But found she was sipping a glass of red and nibbling on a buttered roll, to your slight dismay. Pushing the feeling away, you fixed your plate and dug in, moaning at how tasty it was.

“So, your team was winning.” Sy commented, giving you a side brow as he continued to eat.

“Yeah, I noticed.” You smirked, feeling bubbly, as you poured yourself some wine. “Looks like we'll be spending some more time together.”

“That it does.” He nodded, feeling your mother's eyes on him. “I'll have to show you the new foal that was born last week.”

A flood of excitement filled you, you loved the thought of seeing a baby horse. “Oh! I bet they're just the cutest thing on the planet!” You gushed, eyes bright with love already. “What did you name it?”

“Oh, I haven't named the little rascal, yet.” Sy laughed, watching you just gush. “Maybe, you could help me come up with a name for her?” He suggested, looking at you over the rim of his whiskey glass.

“Hmm.” You hummed, falling into a meditative state as you brewed over a name for the baby horse.

“So,” Dana cleared her throat, eyes narrowed between you and Sy. “You're a Rancher?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sy nodded, turning to regard her, nothing by polite respect in his expression.

“How long have you been one?” She questioned, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Ranchin' has been in my family for generations.” Sy replied, not letting her trip him up. “My many great-grandfather came over from Ireland, just after the American Revolution. Then, when the Civil War happened, my family fought and were granted land at the end, for their service. We've been doing it ever since.”

“So, your family fought for the South.” Dana said bluntly, causing you to choke on your food.

“Mother.” You rasped, eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“No, ma'am.” Sy said coolly. “We fought for the North.” He told her, and left it at that.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked her slowly, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

“No.” She answered, getting up and leaving the room.

“I'm so sorry, Sy.” You stuttered, ashamed of your mother.

“It's all right, love.” He shook his head, wiping his hands on his napkin. “It's not your fault. It's not hers either, really.” He said softly. “She's mourning her son, and doing so takes the form in many ways. That's how your Ma is coping with your brother no longer being on this Earth.” He told you, resting back in his chair and fixing his blue eyes on you. “You're coping by going to support groups and trying to understand the kind people that he was, that he worked with, that he died surrounded by.”

You bit your lip, a lump of emotion strangling you and blurring your eyes; Sy was right. You wanted to be surrounded by those like your brother. It was like still having him there, in a way. You felt the strong, rough warmth of Sy's hand slip into yours, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over your wrist as the two of you sat there, quiet and surrounded by your Thanksgiving feast.

“You know,” Sy spoke, breaking the silence. “I could actually use an accountant for my ranch.” He said, smirking over at you. “Plus, how about drinks at my place, while you figure out a new name for my foal? Who cares who wins the game.” He chuckled, arching a suggestive brow at you.

“Are you hinting at a sort of date, Syverson?” You asked, playfully thumb warred him.

“It's possible.” Sy laughed, letting you pin his thumb. “Maybe, I'll even cook you Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, I think I'd like that.” You told him, grinning, thankful you'd decided to host him for Thanksgiving.

#Syverson #Captain Austin Syverson #Thankful *fic*#Thankful #Viking-Raider Fics #Captain Syverson x Reader #Captain Syverson/Reader #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #Syverson x Reader #Syverson/Reader #Fluff #Cotton Candy Fluff #Thanksgiving #Thanksgiving Fic

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Note

Hi wtf!! That rude anon was not me, this is my blog. I created it and then had some problems with verification so I couldn’t send anything. (I only had my main😭) I’m sorry, we can tots cook together now🫶

Anyway, as for robot!König making you squirt, there are no questions asked. Rusty old robot doesn’t even know what the hell he just did. And omg yes your way to make him respond was exactly what i had in mind. He obviously knows what squirting is, because he’s so perverted, but he’s never seen it in real life - outside of the countless porn he’s downloaded.

He likes watching your face, eyes practically staring into your soul. He watches your mouth pout and listens to the little ah ah ah sounds you make, as your hands grip his strong shoulders.

He’s caging you in with one arm, forearm laid next to your face, and the other is gripping your thighs - angling your leg in a way as to encourage you to wrap it around his waist. His hands slide down to your ass ever now and then. Perhaps it’ll be a squeeze, maybe a slap or they’ll continue their journey until he’s reached your clit. He rubs and rubs and squeezes your poor little clit between his harsh fingers.

He mirrors your moans, seemingly unaware of the sounds he lets out in response to your own. And he finally breaks eye contact when he feels you starting to clench on him, “gonna cum..? Hm..?” He almost says nonchalantly. You find it unfair, how he’s not even half as affected by the fucking session. His eyes dart back up to yours when you don’t answer, and he turns on a low level vibration to which you immediately respond with “y-yes!” to. He hums, and turns up the vibration.

The thread snaps and you’re closing your eyes, gasping for air. He always tells you to keep your eyes on him, but this time… he’s not saying anything. He’s not even fucking your, the vibrating dick ongoing and prolonging your high, though. When you finally come home, eyes watering and throat dry, you quietly look at König to meet his eyes. He’s pulled back, sitting on his knees, and keeping your thighs open for him. He’s not looking at you, though, but down at the mess you made. You can’t even excuse yourself because you’ve ‘never done this before’ and you’re ‘so so sorry’ because he tilts his head to the side and lets out a short breath of air.

“Interesting.”

And he starts his painful rubbing on your clit again, grinning horribly at your yelp.

Yay!!! If trolling anon made you start your own writing blog to let us enjoy your Köni thoughts then I'd say we won :D Definitely waiting for what you come up with next! ❤️💋❤️

As for robot!König, can I just say I love how unemotional but piercingly intense he seems?? I mean they must have programmed some emotional responses into him, but you can never tell how organic they are. Is he curious in the way that artificial intelligence is, or is he actually developing feelings for you...? Is it all just electrical impulses or is there some form of human consciousness somewhere in there too?

Because one day he brings you a kitten, says it’s a gift but he gives it to you inside a grocery bag – he’s heard humans and especially women like pets, but he doesn’t understand the concept of giving gifts... So he just hands it to you like that, and when you look inside the plastic bag there’s this shaky little creature inside, meowing at you in minor shock.

Other times brings you “souvenirs” from war, and you never know if you’re going to get chocolate, cigarettes, pantyhose or a human skull :/ And he has at least some sort of self awareness and pride because he likes his new reputation as not only a killing machine, but a fucking machine as well. The container that serves as your home is echoing with your moans and mewls as he fucks you so of course everyone knows how good he is.

You always wonder if he's boasting to his comrades about the things he does to you, but then there are times when he looks almost tender while sitting on the old wooden bench, watching how you play with the kitten he brought you. Lets you put the cat on his shoulder so that it perches there small, wiggly and cute, on the slippery metal plate of his armor he never takes off.

You tell yourself it's affection, not curiosity, that makes his turn his head... It must be, a genuine attempt to seek connection when he slowly, gently, extends a gloved hand and lets the kitten shyly sniff at his finger, then rub her scent on it...

#robot!könig #cooking cooking cooking

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k1ngdom-of-thieves · 1 year

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Hi, I was wondering if I could request a sort of spinoff to this post? https://www.tumblr.com/k1ngdom-of-thieves/696378827069423616/hi-hii-i-like-your-blog-so-may-i-please?source=share Same prompt, but with Azul, Cater, Kalim, Jade, and Jamil?

Sure! Thank you so much for being patient

Azul, Cater, Kalim, Jade and Jamil + resting their head on reader’s lap!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had been so busy organizing files and signing paperwork for the cafe, that he didn’t realize how late it was getting. It was only when you walked in to his office at midnight wondering what he had been doing this whole time.

He apologized for having you stay up for him and told you to sit on one of the couches so you could still be near him. Noticing the dark circles that formed under his eyes, you tried to get him to sit with you so he could rest a little.

The entrepreneur tries to deny and continue with his work, but you wouldn’t listen to it. Eventually, he gave in, seeing how you were so adamantly telling him to relax.

At first, it just started off as him leaning on your shoulder, but it soon led to him resting his head on your lap. Usually he would never do something like this, but he looks so serene and happy with you.

“Only you could make me do this in my own office. If Jade or Floyd saw this, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Cater Diamond

Cater was coming back from an incredibly long day of classes; three tests, a science lab, and the music club after school. Needless to say, he’s exhausted.

He comes straight to you after all of it and practically throws himself into your arms. Congrats. You’ve been officially caught in the famous “Cater Capture.”

After a while of you two standing around, you asked him if he wanted to sit down. He agreed and asked if he could put his head in your lap.

He lets you play with his hair as he rambles about his day and just talk about random thoughts he had. If you keep playing with his hair, he might end up falling asleep.

“Hey, keep that up and I might just fall asleep! I’m just kidding; you know I love ya, right?

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim is, without a doubt, a very upbeat guy. He is also someone who is very found of physical touch.

Him coming to rest his head on your lap is a fairly common occurrence compared to doing it with the other guys. It usually happens when it’s just you and him hanging out somewhere.

Once, you two were stargazing when he put his head in your lap and started talking to you about the little things that happened that day. Things like funny things he saw, gifts he would like to buy you, and anything else that came up in his mind.

Sometimes if he’s really bored, he’ll take some of his accessories (like his earrings and headscarf) and try to put them on you without getting up. It usually doesn’t look that great but hey, you’re having fun!

“Okay, I think I got it now! Oh, oh no. It’s slipping off again. How about you try putting it on me this time!”

Jade Leech

Jade isn’t the type of guy to just put his head in your lap on a whim. He will, however, do it gladly if you ask him to.

He’ll take you hand and put it on his cheek while you talk to him. If you get flustered, he’ll start chuckling while he waits for you to finish what you were saying.

He will keep a conversation with you like nothing had changed. He’s talking about daily events like his head isn’t delicately placed on your lap.

This guy won’t even get up if someone were to walk into the room. He will get up if he sees that you’re uncomfortable, though.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t seen Azul. I- oh? I noticed you looked flustered, I can get up now if you’d like. Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil putting his head in your lap is something that very rarely happens. Your gonna have to ask him when there’s no one around and at night. He’ll get flustered and say no otherwise.

There’s just something special with the calm look in his eyes when it’s just the two of you alone. The slight smile he has when you two crack jokes.

If you two are fairly close, he’ll let you mess with his hair a little. Just a little, though. His hair takes forever to de-tangle.

He’ll offer to let you rest on his lap as well, as a way to repay you. Whether you take him up on that offer is up to you.

“I never thought I’d be able to relax like this. Thank you for giving me this chance.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #cater diamond #twst cater #cater diamond x reader #twst kalim #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twst jade #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper

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amethystfairy1 · 4 months

Text

✨Hello hello!✨

I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!

Right now, I have two WIP AUs!

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️

My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!

TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!

Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!

Tags for the AU are:

#through the sky blue cracks

#ttsbc au

#ttsbc ficlets

Traveling Thieves 🪽

My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.

Tags for the AU are:

#traveling thieves au

#traveling thieves ficlets

Amethysts Scribbling Corner 📝

A little side project of mine to try and stretch my writing style!

Once in awhile, I will be running a poll with prompts that have been sent in via reblogs, replies, asks, and messages! Please send some in if you have any ideas!

Whatever prompt wins the poll, I will write and add to the series!

They can be as broad as a simple one-word prompt, or you can even give a brief description of a couple of sentences! Last thing: Feel free to request where you want the fic to take place! Especially when we're talking Hermit/Traffic/Empires stuff, if you want it to be within the Minecraft server world of that specific series, within a certain one of the Life Series, a modern AU, a fantasy AU, or even TTSBC or Traveling Thieves if you have ideas for them! Just know that if anything requested for TTSBC or Traveling Thieves contradicts or maybe overlaps with any future plans for those AUs, I might not be able to accept them 😓

As far as rules go...I do not write NSFW. I am happy to write romance and let things get a little spicy 🔥 but keep in mind I'll always end up fading to black...also no heavy gore, violence, body horror, things of that nature. I am very much a fan of writing whump and hurt/comfort though, so please send those ideas my way!

Tags for the series are:

#amethysts scribbling corner

I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I use this blog for my scribbling corner prompts as well as asks about any of my AUs or writing projects! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

#intro post #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #hermitcraft #traffic smp #through the sky blue cracks #hermitshipping #worldbuilding #trafficshipping #life series #empires smp #traveling thieves au #amethysts scribbling corner

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snailsgoingdowntown · 5 months

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Title: Union

Yandere! The ‘General!’ x fem! Reader!

(Mr Villain's Day Off)

Warnings: general yandere themes, toxic relationship, blood and slight(?) gore, violence (reader’s neck is bitten), idealization/fantasies of murder, implied possessiveness, and obsessiveness, implied codependent behavior.

I took liberation with this and created the custom of the General’s species biting the neck of their lover as some sort of vow. Like with Omega Au.

He’s out of character in this lmao.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/LURKERS/DNI

Disclaimer: I do not support or encourage any of the toxic and harmful behaviors/thoughts that may take place in this piece of fiction. It should not be romanticized or even considered normal as it is both extremely toxic and dangerous.

Word count: 1261k

---

His teeth hurt.

Sharp and pearly white, now stained with your blood. Your nails claw into his shoulders, his trench coat softening the impact. He’s more like a vampire and not an alien, you think. This twisted sense of… union isn’t really your thing. Not when it involves teeth and blood, the ritual being repeated once every other year, something that is expected and welcomed by his species.

You wouldn’t have minded it if you had decided to stay. But you do because you wanted out, tired of his little secrets, the long nights, the hidden phone calls. You would have rather that he was cheating on you, an unfaithful bastard who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Instead, you got an alien who didn’t understand what ‘no’ meant.

A little too faithful, too love stricken to see past that beautiful, beautiful tinted rose filter. And he wanted the same from you, it seems. With sharp teeth and an iron grip, he held you in place, desperate after an hour of pleas that were so unlike him.

One of his hands held the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His ring feels cold, his blunt nails feel sharp, he’s stronger, bigger than you. Resistance was futile.

His teeth dig deeper, rougher. Tears form in your eyes, running down your face in big, fat streaks, sobbing into the collar of his coat. Everything is a blur, and his free hand rubs circles into your back, attempting to soothe you. It doesn’t, it makes you feel worse because it reminds you that this man is not just a monster but has feelings and guilt like everyone else –

You genuinely, genuinely hate this alien? Man? You despise him, wanted to scalp him alive, to stab a knife through his heart until the only color you could see was red. But you would never be able to do that. Nor will you be able to drive a knife through your own heart just to escape your dammed faith.

“I’m sorry, please endure it for a bit longer…,” he gasps out before he sinks his teeth into your neck again. Your own dug into his hair, fingers pulling at his roots. The tears don’t stop and neither does his bite.

“Hurts – it hurts!” sobbing, you still attempt to push and pull his head away, but to no avail. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, breathing, and able to think. Crimson runs down your neck, stains your pretty lacy white shirt, all the while the man enjoys his sweet, sweet time with you. Like enjoying a juicy steak.

“…Hah… it’s done,” his tone, despite being comforting, was a shrill scream in your ear. His tongue pokes out, only to lick the wound, saliva mixing in with blood. It’s slimy and roughish, with a squishiness to it. Like a warm wet rag pressed against your neck. The only difference being it’s an organic tongue and not some fabric.

“… I’m sorry,” another lick, another circle rubbed onto your back. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts –

“I know it hurts… I forgot how… fragile humans could be. I’m sorry.” Too tired to fight back anymore, you fall limp in his embrace. Your jaw goes slack, eyelids too heavy to keep open. The void is calling for you.

You should have rejected his help, that day. You should have carried those heavy bags up the stairs that day, even if it meant you would have pulled a muscle or two. You should have ignored him when you kept running into him, both of you surprised to see the other so frequently. You should have kept your mouth shut and feelings hidden, your confession forgotten and your first kiss nonexistent.

Should have done this, should have done that – it’s too late to wallow in the past. The mirror cracked long ago, just like your sense of self. Like your trust in the one person who should have been your ‘everything.’ Whatever that was.

Something you realized was harmful for you, but he refused to acknowledge it. To accept it.

You should have rejected his invitation to his apartment. To get your stuff back. You should have avoided him instead of still trusting him once he let his true identity slip through that tongue of his. How naïve and stupid of you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

“I haven’t felt this way about anyone, before.”

Neither have you.

“You make me rethink my stance on humans.” He sits you down on his couch, reaching for the medical supplies sitting at the side. He prepared for this. He’s always been ready for this.

You never had a say-so in the matter. How cruel.

“You make me question myself, and what I’m fighting for.” Your eyes shut close, a towel – wet and warm – pressed against the open wound. He holds it there for a good while. Assuring that his prized ‘lover’ would be patched up in no time.

“Our customs are different from yours. It’s painful, even for us. But you don’t have to relive this pain.” You’re vaguely aware of the cotton ball, of the scent of medical ointments and the towel being pressed against the bleeding wound once more. You’re too tired to open your eyes, but you fear you might die if you don’t.

“… You should… have let me go.” It’s broken and weak, almost less than a whisper, but you manage to talk. It’s painful and took extreme amounts of effort, but you talked. You almost wish you would die – but the fear of meeting nothing but a black abyss on the other side of the road scares you more than this fiend.

He doesn’t say anything. Just tends to the wound that he inflected on you like it was just another Tuesday night. You never asked for this. You would have never asked for this, the pain, the betrayal he’s hidden from you these past two years.

You almost wish he only said ‘yes’ just to use you. A sick twisted sense of humor, a past time he could always forget at a later date. Amusement that would grow boring, dull. A toy he could have left in an open field, neither destroying it nor loving it.

If this was a romance story, then this would have been the best ending. Two crossed-star-lovers who put aside their differences to be together. One changing his view on the ‘enemy’ because his sweetheart was from that group. They fail to show the ugly side of ‘love.’

You had chosen a rotten apple and now it has poisoned you.

“… I know that you must hate me.”

You do, you hate him as much as you fear him.

“But I…”

Ring!

His phone goes off exactly three times before he fishes it out of his coat pocket, a sneer displayed on his mouth. His teeth show, dyed red. Still sharper than a knife.

You don’t get to see the caller ID.

“– General! Listen, I know that it is your off day – “

“Get to the point. I’m giving you five seconds before I hang up.”

You don’t get to hear the conversation, either. You could barely feel the wet rag dabbing your neck. Or the smell of herbs. You wonder if he would let you die just like this. Or if he would find a way to ‘save’ you.

Nothing matters anymore, you suppose.

Not when the ‘General’ decided that you were lovelier than a rose and brighter than the stars amongst a darken sky.

#mr villain's day off #mr villain's day off x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere mr villain's day off #yandere mr villain's day off x reader

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jojo-oliver · 10 months

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How to tumblr for artists… my own version

A collection of things that have been working for me, but may not work for everyone

~~~ your posts ~~~

!!!reblog your own stuff!!! you need to reblog your own stuff, there is nothing morally wrong with reblogging your own stuff regularly. in fact, it is morally right to allow the chance for more people to see your artwork.

~~~ queue it!! ~~~ my queue is 500 posts strong. maybe don't try to make your queue hundreds of posts strong in the same day omg but like… once every month or two i'll go through my whole blog and just scroll and "add to drafts" to every one of my own posts i have. then i'll use the "mass post editor" to add content warning tags. and add to queue, and shuffle. and then I write down what the date was for when I last added my posts to be reblogged on queue. this is helped by turning on timestamps for posts in tumblr "dashboard preferences" settings.

queueing is necessary and life saving for me. It takes out so much work with decision fatigue and the anxiety around posting. It also guarantees that even if I suddenly need time off or away from my phone, I don't just disappear and lose all traction. It also breaks the instant-gratification cycle that you expect when you finish an artwork. It's hard to keep creating when you post something and, when you're expecting to get that gratification, you get none... If you queue your new artwork to come out at a later time, you've separated that expectation - with time. It hurts less and contributes to a more consistent gratification thing instead of peaks and troughs.

~~~ tag ya stuff ~~~ when you're making a new post, the first 20 tags are what gets put into the searchable tags. do not feel shame for using lots of tags. shame is the mind-killer. tags are hard. hard to know what to tag a post with. hard to remember the tags. so I found some ways to help myself. maybe they'll help you too. dedicate some time towards just figuring out what tags you want to use. i have a list in my phone notes that i add tags to and reference whenever i'm making a new post. i have the phone right beside the laptop while i'm tagging so that i can just look at it and scroll. tags are the only way for people to find your artwork, other than people manually coming to your blog because they saw you somewhere. there is no algorithm. posting without tags, until you have an established fanbase, is throwing something into the void.

When I'm doing tag research, I look at what people seem to use - when you put something in the search bar, tumblr recommends you some that have a higher following, typically. Looks like this on desktop:

if you like one tag, look at what other people who use that tag also tag their posts with. Observe and learn how this tag is used. search through a bunch of them and write them down.

here's what i got in my notes, for the specific kind of art I post and look for:

these tags are sort of specific to me and the kind of art I make. You'll want to research your own tags, but this is an example of how I keep them organized to make posting more effective. I generally only write down a tag when it's got more than 2k followers. You might be tempted to use the tags with millions of followers, but I've actually found those a lot less functional for small artists. If your stuff doesn't immediately get a bunch of notifications, you're drowned out and pushed to the bottom much faster. But the bigger tags are better than no tags, so I keep them if I can't think of anything else to tag something with.

~~~ post at the right times….? ~~~

fridays and saturdays is when I post fresh new things... usually. every website has it's own peak hours, and you can find those hours in many different online articles that try to sell you social media growth services. tumblr is unique in having later hours.

here's some random graph from google images:

please don't over think this. please don't let this consume the idea of when to post, preventing you from posting at all. it doesn't mean too much - if you post during very active hours, maybe your art would just be pushed down the feed faster. if you post at the end of hours, maybe everyone's going to sleep… if you post at inactive hours, maybe there's less 'competition'… if you post at the beginning of active hours, maybe that's just more time for your post to circulate for the day, if you have enough people reblogging it once it drops....

this also is in EST. So fuck the other time zones, I guess. I'm over here in europe knowing that the "best" time to post would be like 2-3am or something. It's like this for most english-speaking majority sites - higher traffic in north american time zones.

it's also worth mentioning that this is scattered as heck, compared to other social media sites. and it's not like, the activity times of your followers. it's not the best time to post for your niche. this is just tumblr, broadly. all of tumblr.

~~~ Plan ahead for annual dates ~~~

Your artwork will get more circulation if it's posted on a celebratory day. You could just put them on your calendar and if you're wondering what to make, look on the calendar for what's coming soon. For example, asexual awareness day, trans day of visibility, location-specific holidays, etc. Here's my phone notes thing with my own recorded annuals:

I got these dates from googling and reading different articles, but I find that I still miss dates, and then I add them for next year. If you know of some I missed, tell me and I'll add them please <3

~~~ reblog other people's stuff ~~~

tumblr is sorta about ecosystems. things get passed around within groups of people that are all following eachother. to enter this ecosystem, you must engage and reblog other people's stuff too.

if you reblog other artists' stuff, sometimes they'll come over and reblog your stuff too. sometimes they'll follow you back. this is called becoming a mutual. I'll search specific tags for the kinds of people I want to follow and the kind of art I like - those are listed in the screenshot of my tag note under "Tags for finding new people".

I see a lot of blogs out there that are very clean, posts are tagless, and are only for the artists' content. like scrolling through a portfolio. I imagine this is good for people who are migrating to tumblr but already have their own established fanbase from elsewhere.

you don't need to do reblog other people's stuff on your art blog, you can do this on a separate blog. but if the two don't look very closely correlated, it's hard to tell who you are when you're interacting. and hard to make sure people know that you are the same person as your art blog. and you gotta remember to promote yourself on your personal blog.

~~~ have an art tag ~~~

make your blog easy to search!

if i go to your blog, and you've written 'artist' or 'sometimes art' in your bio, i wanna see it… it make me so sad when i don't get to see it. i want to reblog it. please let me reblog it :(

to make a tag on your own blog searchable, you don't need to repost it to add a tag. you don't even need to reblog it. you can actually just go back to the original post and edit it to add your tag. I've seen post people just have their art tag be something like #(blogname)art . you can see my own in my tags image above. if it's very unique, then it'll work tumblr-wide. I think that's good, since the tumblr search function is really weird. Otherwise it should still work if it's not entirely unique, people just have to make sure they're searching specifically your blog to see only your stuff.

I like to have a link in my pinned post where people can click to have immediately searched for my art tag. Convenience is king. Keep in mind that most people are on mobile, and if something isn't immediately clickable, they often won't find it.

~~~ be consistent and be patient ~~~

!!!this time will pass anyway!!! how many notes you have is not correlated with how good you are as an artist. wanting to earn something from your art means you essentially have two jobs. two potentially full time jobs. this shit's difficult. most of the job is promoting yourself. don't undersell how hard it is to do… don't feel bad for not immediately succeeding. I would write about how hard it's been to promote myself, but it would just be long and sad I think.

This isn't a full guide, please feel free to add more!!

I'm sure in another year I'll disagree with a lot of this, it will become irrelevant with time, and I'll have a lot of different opinions. Chip in and share what you've been doing? Teach me? This is very overwhelming. Don't do it all at once, just like, try one thing at a time, and see how it works for you. Your niche might be different. One size does not fit all. If you're confused about some of the things I talk about in here, you might be on mobile. I do most of my queueing and posting from the desktop browser version.

I will update this with more as things change, but I think you'll have to click through to see the updated post

#pinned #beginner artist #small artist #queer artist #trans artist #artists on tumblr #artist support #artistsupport #new artist #art blog #art on tumblr #lgbt artist #lgbtq artist

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decolonize-the-left · 2 months

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genuine question: i thought communism ideology supported no states? what do you not support with communism?

Also: is PSL problematic/harmful? I hadn’t seen anything about them denying a genocide.

Apologies if this looks like I’m coming to you instead of research. Unfortunately research has lead my to discourse reddit threads and people speaking over another of what is true and right. It’s difficult for me to sort through what is actually backed and i always perfect to get first hand, personal opinions from individuals for conversation purposes! If this is inappropriate please lmk! I’m a fan of your blog and truly am just looking for more input and takes on our options and to know the best way to get involved in a community— and avoid getting involved with the wrong kind of people I don’t agree with!

Thank you in advance!! Hope your future doctor visits continue to treat you well!

So a classless, moneyless society is socialism.

There are branches of socialism the same way there can be democratic and Republican beliefs within capitalism.

So communism is socialism with a state/government. This is what PSL is and advocates for.

And yeah im stepping on a fucking beehive saying this but yeah, Marxists/Marxists-Leninists support a communist state. For this exact reason, they deny that China has been persecuting Uyghur people. They think if they deny the genocide is happening at all then communism will seem more "valid."

Additionally, they think the genocide is little more than more anti-communist propaganda from the USA. Even Aljazeera has written about this.

Aside from that, yes PSL has organized with orgs like BLM before, but that said.... Ugh.

They speak over everyone. In fact, I've been told several times that they are now doing the same thing with the Pro-Palestine rallies they've been hosting, too.

As someone who worked with them closely during the BLM protests of 2020 I can confirm this with my own experiences. They're super organized, which is great for them. For the rest of us though, it means we have to work around their schedules. They spread their own parties propaganda at these events while making themselves out to be The Official Organization for the event which was almost never true. When they were at our events it's because they were invited by us, but everyone thought it was the other way around. They have a way of centering themselves which seems anti-thetical to their allyship.

They very much use minorities to boost their party's status. Which is not much different from how a democrat tries to get minority votes would.

I don't use Instagram but the USPCN and NAARPR posted about how PSL was doing this. I had just reblogged a post where PSL was calling for a strike in solidarity and was immediately informed to IGNORE it and boost actual Palestinians calls for action instead. They included a link to the Instagram post as well. I'll see if I can find it and reblog it after this.

Anyway, It was a good question and didn't bother me at all to answer, thanks for sending it!

#asked #answered #PSL #communism #uyghurs #uyghur genocide #for the record my views are closest to anarcho communism or straight up anarchy tbh #self determination and sovereignty above all else #EDITED TO CORRECT THE ORG LISTED

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icycoldninja · 2 months

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Hi, love your blog! Can I request headcanons for Dante, Vergil and Trish trying to conquer a reader with ADHD (inattentive)?

Oh yes, here ya go. 💜

Dante, Vergil, and Trish x ADHD! Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-So, you have trouble paying attention to things? You're disorganized? You procrastinate even when you're trying hard to get things done? Now, who does that sound like? Oh yeah, Dante!

-Dante is chill, very, very chill, and doesn't mind your forgetfulness and tendency to get distracted.

-He'll help you remember things but he's not that good at keeping track of stuff either.

-You guys can lie around for hours, just doing nothing, or maybe having a lighthearted conversation, but not much else. It's fine though, he'll eventually pull himself together and get off the couch to do stuff.

-He'll be sure to help you research medications and take you to doctors if you necessary.

-Loves you no matter what, even if you spend 15 minutes trying to find the TV remote when you were sitting on it the entire time.

□ Vergil □

-Vergil is a very organized and practical dude and is more than happy to help you get yourself sorted.

-Gets frustrated whenever you misplace items or forget the direction of the conversation, but controls himself, because he understands your behavior isn't your fault.

-He started making detailed schedules for you and tapes them up everywhere, so you always have a sense of what you have to do and when.

-Motivates you every morning, reminding you (indirectly, of course) that he cares about you and that he'll always be around to protect you.

-Will help explain concepts/conversations to you if you couldn't grasp them the first time.

-He might get a little irritated by your distracted nature, but he still loves you and wants to help you deal with your ADHD.

▪︎ Trish ▪︎

-She's patient and tolerating of you and your drifty brain, taking care of you in her own sweet, protective way.

-She reminds you of practically everything when you forget: to take your medicine, that you're supposed to go to work in an hour, that you left your wallet on the kitchen counter again, etc.

-Texts you whenever she's not at home or around you, sending cute little messages, reminders, and sometimes selfies of her doing stuff.

-Though she's not exactly the world's neatest woman, she knows how to keep things tidy and will certainly help you clean your house.

-She also knows to snap her fingers or clap really loudly when she wants your attention.

-Is very careful to avoid putting you in situations where you might face social anxiety, though on the rare occasions that you get overwhelmed, she's there for you.

#Dmc #Dmc5 #Dmc5 dante #dmc5 vergil #Dmc5 Trish #Trish x reader #Vergil x reader #Dante x reader #Devil may cry #Devil may cry 5 #Devil may cry5 #dante devil may cry #vergil devil may cry #trish devil may cry #Headcannons #Requested #thanks for requesting #icycoldninja writes

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desert-fern · 11 months

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 7: Shaping up and Shipping Out

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*GIF is from Pinterest. Not mine*

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: like 2 swears, tis mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist >> Part 6 >> Part 8

===

The next few weeks were busy. Between organizing information, running exercises, and trying and failing not to drool over Hangman, Bear was scattered. The night before she had taught the pilots a little about handling the paintball guns they used for training and organized a paintball competition with everyone. She could hear the laughter and the teasing that had echoed loudly through the warehouse and it made her smile. Bear loved how easily her people and the pilots had come together, forming their own little pack. She had promised to look after them and seeing that their support systems were growing filled her heart with joy. A knock at her office door broke her from her thoughts. “Come in.”

“Hey Bear. Hope we didn’t interrupt anything.” Bob and Rooster were standing in the open doorway.

“No, not at all. I was just finishing up. What’s going on?”

Bob replied simply. “Us and a few of the others are heading out to the bar for a bit before we ship out tomorrow. You feeling up to joining us?”

Bear smiled softly. “Wish I could, Bobert and Chicken. I still have to finish my packing — well actually start my packing. Plus I need a night to just take it easy for a bit. But I appreciate the offer.”

“No worries, just wanted to see if you were interested,” Bob told her, giving her a wave. “Pretty sure Hangman’s going to be disappointed though.”

Bear’s mouth fell open in shock. “I-what? Where did that come from?”

“We all see how you look at each other,” Rooster added. “And honestly, Bug and I were chatting yesterday, she thinks that it would be good for you. I do too.”

“Boys, come on,” Bear sighed in defeat. “Nothing can or will happen there. The fact of the matter is that I am his and your superior. There’s rules against this sort of thing.”

Bob gave her a sympathetic smile. “But you aren’t his direct superior. Especially once this mission is over. It could still happen. Doesn’t mean that you have to, but just think about it,” he said gently. “But we will leave you to finish up, and we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Have a goodnight, Bear.”

“Thanks guys, you too. Have fun tonight,” Bear said quietly. Her mind was whirring. Somehow, the Daggers and her team knowing that there was mutual interest between her and Hangman made it worse. Her thoughts about the blonde pilot were all jumbled together. It would take a madwoman to sort through them and she just couldn’t handle that on top of everything else she had to deal with. So she stuffed them down. She could sort them out later. Hopefully he’d understand.

Bear shut off her computer and packed her bag in a daze. A part of her wanted to see Hangman before they shipped out, but she knew that she’d see him tomorrow, so with a muddled mind, Bear left her office.

She was intercepted halfway to the parking lot by Fanboy and Fireball, who asked her the same question as Bob and Rooster had only minutes before. She turned them down, just like she had earlier and gave them a wave. Once in her car, Bear let her head thunk against the steering wheel, trying to shake off the haze of her thoughts. Taking a few deep breaths, the fog cleared and she drove home, humming along to a random song playing softly through the radio.

Her arrival home was unremarkable. Every house she drove past looked the same. The same U.S. flag flying from the porch, the same cookie cutter front yard. And then there was hers. The only house without the flag because it kept flying away and getting caught in a tree or stuck on the roof. The only house missing the ‘lived in’ feel.

Inside, Bear tossed her keys on the table by the front door, her bag hung up on the hook in the kitchen. With a groan, she heaved herself up the stairs and into the shower, fully intending on relaxing for the rest of the night, with no blonde flyboy to make her trip over her words.

===

Well, at least that was her plan. Two hours after arriving home and after her shower, Bear had begun packing. Clothes were strewn across the room, her uniform in the wash, and she stood there in a t-shirt and small black bike shorts that only just barely covered her ass. While in the middle of folding shirts, the doorbell rang, making her swear and stomp down the stairs. “Whoever the fuck is at the door better have a good-” she cut off her tirade abruptly, seeing Hangman on her front porch. “Hi.”

The pilot looked amused. “Hello to you too,” he said. “Is everything alright?” Jake was holding a pizza box in one hand, the other hanging awkwardly at his side. It was like everything had stopped when Bear yanked open the door yelling. Her hair, normally tied into a tight bun, was hanging loose about her shoulders and she stood in front of him in shorts that should have been illegal with how closely they painted themselves to her thighs.

“Umm…yeah. It is,” Bear replied awkwardly. She had leaned against the doorframe, one hand still holding the door open. “What are you doing here?”

“Fireball mentioned that you weren’t coming out with us tonight, and that you have a habit of not eating when you’re busy,” Jake told her, his other hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “So he gave me your address and I brought pizza.”

She grinned at him. “You did, huh?”

“Yep. So can I come in?”

Bear pretended to think. “Well, you did bring food and I don’t hate your face, so sure.” Her eyes were bright as she grinned up at him. She stepped aside, letting him pass before shutting the door behind him.

“Nice place,” Jake remarked as he stood in the entryway, glancing around at the pictures on the walls. “These are your platoons?”

She nodded. “They are. Each team I have been a part of since I first enlisted,” Bear told him, pride evident in her voice. Sidling close to him, she pointed at the last picture on the wall. “This is the only one I have of the Lieutenants from the current team.”

Jake swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the warmth of her body against his arm as she told him about the pictures. “Is that Flare? She looks so young.”

“It is, she had just been promoted not even a week before this,” Bear said, her voice full of pride. “But you didn’t come here to stand around and hear me talk about nothing. Let’s get the pizza in the kitchen, it’s literally right behind you.”

“Actually I did come here to listen to you ramble,” Jake replied, shooting her a wink and relishing in how her cheeks pinked and how she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it. “It’s why I brought pizza AND rang the doorbell.” He wandered into the kitchen, opening cabinets to find plates, the pizza box now on the counter.

Bear shook her head, following him into the kitchen and popping open the box. “Fuck yes, pepperoni,” she mumbled excitedly under her breath, not catching the smug look on Jake’s face behind her.

“I told you, Fireball told me a lot.” He passed her a plate, stepping beside her to grab a few pieces for himself. “Including your love of pepperoni.”

“Well thank god for that,” Bear said in between bites. “I had completely forgotten about food. So thank you, Jake.”

“It’s not a problem, Teddy.”

She groaned. “Please stop calling me that.”

“I think I’ve grown rather attached to it,” Jake teased, stepping into her space, forcing her to look up at him.

“Fine, Flyboy. Whatever,” she said with a shrug, forcefully willing her blush away. “I have to finish packing.”

Jake stuffed his pizza crust in his mouth, nodding as he took both of their plates. “Need a hand?”

Bear gave him a confused look. “I mean, if you want. It’ll be pretty boring.”

He merely nodded, putting both plates in the sink before following her up the stairs. “You’re a bit of a chaotic packer, aren’t you?” Jake teased, taking in the room in front of him.

“Shut up,” Bear tossed back, going over to her bag and refolding a few shirts to make room. “Something has to give and it sure as fuck won’t be the intel.”

Jake shrugged, silently agreeing with her. “Makes sense to me,” he replied. “Did you need any of this?” He held up two black tech shirts.”

“Ummm…,” Bear hummed, mentally going through her list. “Is the one on the right the smaller of the two?”

Jake’s brow furrowed as he checked the tags. “Yep, you need it?”

“Duh, that’s why I asked,” she sassed. So Jake threw it at her, watching it hit her in the face and land in the bag. “Hey!”

He began to laugh, completely distracted by the look of surprise on her face and he didn’t see her wind up and throw a balled up pair of socks at him. “You are gonna regret that Teddy,” he replied, grabbing a handful of the clothing left on her bed.

“You promise, Flyboy? Because I think you forget who you’re up against,” Bear teased, jumping up to stand on her bed, another pair of socks aimed at Jake’s face, practically daring him to try something.

Seconds passed as the two had their little standoff, before Jake whipped a sweater at her, yelping as the socks bounced off his chest not even seconds later. Bear continued pelting him with clothing, laughing at his reaction. “Okay! Okay! Mercy!” Jake finally managed to say between laughter.

Bear hopped off the bed, one last item in her hand as she stood over his folded position on her bedroom floor. “Beg for your life, Flyboy.”

Jake was laughing too hard to answer her, sending the woman above him into peals of giggles. “Okay. I’m good,” he said with an exhale. “Let’s finish getting you packed.”

Bear extended her hand to him, clasping his forearm and pulling him up, stumbling back half a step when they found themselves nose to nose. “Ummm…” Bear trailed off, ducking her gaze and slipping past him. “Packing. And now thanks to you, I have to pick up all my socks again,” she teased, bumping him with her elbow.

He shook his head at her antics. She seemed carefree, happy in his presence. Maybe he was imagining things, but a man could dream that he had a hand in easing her tension. “Sure, blame me. C’mon Teddy.”

===

Over the next few hours, Bear and Hangman packed up her gear, continuing the stream of conversation, bouncing from one topic to the next with ease. It felt natural to them both, almost effortless in the way they spoke and teased the other.

It was only when the last zipper was pulled closed and the last bag was placed in the hallway, did the conversation stop. Both paused, somehow unable to find words that had been there not even seconds before. “Thank you for your help,” Bear finally spoke after a long pause. “I appreciate it. Especially since you could have been out with the team.”

She felt suddenly shy, pinned under the pale green gaze of the man in front of her. It was as if she stood bare before him. Every thought, feeling, and desire was exposed and brought into the light for him to see. She had misjudged him at first, dismissing him as just another cocky pilot who thought he was better than everyone else. And while she wasn’t completely wrong, tonight he had shown her more of himself than she had expected. But she stopped herself. “This can’t happen,” Bear thought to herself. “I could lose my position and my job if this ever gets out.”

Jake smiled at her. The last few hours had been some of the best that he could remember. Having seen yet another side of this strong woman, Jake fell harder. It was no longer physical. Well, it was, but now it was so much more than that. Bear was everything he’d never considered for himself. The strength, the kindness, bravery, gentleness all seemed to radiate from her, bathing all who were lucky enough to get close to her in the light that shone from her. And he was thrilled that she allowed him this close. “Honestly, this was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he admitted quietly. “Including when I hit Rooster in the chest during that paintball fight last week.”

A soft laugh escaped her. They had drifted from her room, back down to the front entryway, neither willing to part from the other. “That was pretty funny,” Bear replied. Glancing at the clock on the wall in the kitchen, she hummed. “It’s getting late and we have to be up early tomorrow. You should probably go.”

“Probably.” Giving her one last soft smile, Jake opened the door, stepping out onto the porch. “Have a good night Teddy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoed, eyes still fixed on him. Letting out a small chuckle, Bear leaned against the door frame. “Drive safe, Flyboy. I need your ass in order to run this mission.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jake replied. He stood awkwardly next to his truck, hand tapping against his thigh, before nodding once and unlocking the vehicle.

Bear watched him pull out of the driveway, and waited until he was down the road before shutting the door and locking it. Once inside, she leaned back against the door, pressing her hands against her eyes until bright spots filled her vision. “Get it together,” she mumbled. “You can’t let him distract you.”

===

The next morning, Bear found herself on the dock early. Her larger bags had been sent ahead, leaving her with her backpack that held her documents. She greeted each member of her four platoons, exchanging hugs and greetings with their families, before counting them all and sending them aboard the USS Lincoln to get settled. She was waiting for the Daggers to arrive, being unable to leave without Maverick making an appearance.

“I’m going to miss you, love,” she overheard Phoenix say, pressing a deep kiss against the lips of a brunette woman who stood only slightly smaller than the pilot. “I love you.”

“Love you more, Nat.” One more quick kiss and the other woman stepped back, watching Phoenix clap Bob on the shoulder.

Watching the goodbyes always made her stomach clench. It was a reminder of how easily something like the Navy could take over your life and make it impossible to find someone who truly understood what it was like. “Bear!”

“Chicken. You’re chipper this morning,” she replied, having been abruptly pulled from her thoughts.

He grinned, pulling her into a side hug. “What can I say? I had some of my girl’s lovin’ last night and now I’m not sure how I could ever leave.”

“Okay, gross. I did not need to know that.”

He laughed, clapping her on the back before ascending the walkway onto the ship, catching up with Fanboy and Payback.

More pilots trickled past, and from the corner of her eye, she caught Maverick arriving. He was in deep conversation with Admiral Simpson, who met her curious gaze. Bear snapped into a salute, only lowering her arm when the gesture was returned. “Good morning, Sir.”

“Commander. Is your team ready?”

“Yes Sir, we are. Admiral Harris is up to date on any recent changes to the plans, and if things change further, I will keep you both in the loop,” Bear replied.

“Good to hear, Commander,” the Admiral said. He nodded once to Maverick, who returned the gesture, before turning to them both. “Best of luck to you both.”

“Thank you Sir,” Maverick replied, shifting his bag in his grip. Admiral Simpson walked off, pausing to converse with the woman Phoenix had kissed goodbye on the dockside. “Are you ready Commander?”

“Are you, Captain?”

He laughed, “Fair enough, let’s get settled.”

===

A/N: So they're getting closer! Almost makes you wonder if it’s going to stay like that….

Thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky and @sarahsmi13s for yelling at me! Any and all errors are my own!

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