#“look here. i know what metal my arm’s made of and that sure as hell ain’t it.”

[cynicalmusings]

oh, yeah. empath!reader is DEFINITELY british (accent-wise, not ethnically).

repressed british x southern cowboy. what more can one ask for in a dynamic?

[sanguineterrain]

Kurt wagner and tail stuff!!! I love that boy! I love how you write! I love the tail! Smashing them together we got a a little piece of heaven! So Kurt wagner with s/o and some tail action pretty please!!

(Like if you need some more then that: for example, the times before they were together Kurt’s tail always seemed to gravitate towards reader (I’m an advocate that Kurt’s tail is like a fricking mood ring) wrapping around them, touching them. The times when they were together! And the time reader wraps their hand or something around his tail or something)

Love your writing! You’re awesome and amazing! And I want to say in advance, thank you so so much for doing this ask! I will treasure it dearly! And if you don’t do the ask then thank you so so much to taking the time to read it! Have a lovely day!

ouuu this is a sweet request <3 tail boy! thanks nonnie :) hopefully I did him justice 🫶 changed the request a bit but kept the same idea about the tail. may write a part 2... we'll see!

kurt wagner (nightcrawler) x gn!reader. fluff, cooking, gambit and rogue trying to talk some sense into the reader.

note: I tried to capture kurt and gambit's accents. however, as always, I'm open to feedback on them. It's definitely not my intention to offend or miswrite anyone!

****

The smell of bubbling cheese wafts from your pot as you stir. It's been a while since you were able to cook for yourself and have a nice meal, always running out to do something or another for the good of the planet.

"Smells good," comes a familiar voice. A moment later, a tail curls around your wrist as you shake some paprika into the pot.

You look away from your stirring into golden, irisless eyes. Kurt grins at you.

"Mac 'n cheese," you say by way of greeting. "Want some?"

"Please und thank you."

Anytime you cook, you offer Kurt to share. You frequently have the thought that you spoil the hell out of him, but you can't help it.

He helps you out by putting away the milk and cheese. But he's never far; his tail remains on you. It slackens from your wrist, then explores up your arm and around your elbow.

It's nothing new, of course. The first thing you learned about Kurt Wagner is how physically affectionate he is.

"That tail seems to have a mind of its own, elfie," you say, smiling down at the pot.

"What do you mean?"

"It's always holding onto me." You turn off the burner.

"Ah." Kurt drops his tail. "My apologies. I can ease up, as you say."

You shake your head. "Don't. I don't mind. Never have."

So Kurt gives you one final tail squeeze. The fur on his arm tickles you as he brushes past. You watch him in confusion.

"Where are you going?" you ask, halfway through scooping two servings of the pasta.

"Not far," he says brightly. "Jean wanted me to bring spoons from the kitchen." He holds up three metal spoons with his tail.

"Spoons?"

He shrugs. "An experiment. Who am I to question a scientist's whim? I promise I will be fast."

He teleports away, and you have a mind to cover Kurt's bowl with a plate. You bring both bowls to the table. At last, a proper meal.

You don't mind eating alone, but that hardly ever happens with Kurt around. Even if he's just eaten, he'll nibble on whatever you've made. You don't know where he puts all that food—perhaps in another dimension—but he makes it a point to eat with you, regardless of whether you've cooked or not. Even if you're in the middle of the forest eating a tin of beans, Kurt will plant himself right next to you and keep you company.

He's a good friend. The best friend you've ever had, actually.

"Woo, smells good!"

Gambit comes in first, followed by Rogue, since the two are never seen apart anymore. Gambit, nosy that he is, makes a beeline to Kurt's covered bowl.

"And what's in here?" he asks, lifting the plate.

"That's Kurt's," you say. "You can get some from the pot."

"Mais, it's Kurt's, huh?" He glances at Rogue, who grins. "Hear that, chère? Not sure if I should take from the pot. Might take my head, too."

You squint as they share laughter. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, nothin'," Rogue says sweetly, taking the seat diagonal to you. Gambit sits next to her.

Your frown deepens. "I didn't say you couldn't have some, G, I just—"

Gambit shakes his head. "Don't go worryin' 'bout that. I'm just teasin'. I think it's cute how you feed the furball."

"Excuse me, I feed myself first," you say, and shovel a forkful of pasta into your mouth.

You hate not being in the know. It happens frequently, being that you're not a mutant. You're here on a personal invitation from Charles due to your "technology skills."

Really, you'd been brought here to fix Cerebro. And after that, you'd sort of just... stayed at the school. Charles had offered you a room, Kurt had won your friendship (or, perhaps, you'd won his), and you'd never left.

"Well, what do you mean, anyway? So what if I feed Kurt," you say, unable to stand not knowing.

"Just seems like where you are, Kurt's never far," Rogue says, watching you eat.

"Yeah, so? He's my friend."

"Oh, un ami. Is that what we're callin' it?" Gambit asks, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"What else would you call it?"

They look at each other in that Siamese cats way. Often, you've had the thought that they can read each other's minds—no powers needed.

"You really don't know?" Rogue asks, voice softening.

"Know what?" you ask impatiently.

Gambit makes a quiet noise in his throat. "Y'all don't know. He's gone on you."

Your brows rise. "Kurt? Don't be silly, Remy."

"Oh, great. You're both in denial," Rogue says, rolling her eyes. "Haven't you noticed how touchy he is around ya? Always huggin' and clingin'."

"Kurt's like that with everybody," you say. "He's like that with Logan!"

"Mais, the tail, it never lies," Gambit says with all the wisdom of someone centuries older. "He don't go wrappin' that tail 'round anybody."

Rogue nods sagely. "True. And he's always puttin' that tail around you."

"But he's..." You put your fork down in frustration. "That's ridiculous. Kurt would've said—I mean, there would've been a sign. He would've told me. Kurt doesn't hide anything from me."

"This is new for him, honey," Rogue says. "He's never been in love for real. He's not gonna act rationally."

"Alors, look at it this way. La Raison parle, mais l'Amour chante. Hm? His body betray his words. It sings to you. Jus' like I sing to ma cherie."

He reaches to take Rogue's hand, eyes practically heart-shaped. Rogue lets him, smiling in that secret, shy way of hers whenever Gambit is sweet on her.

L'Amour...

"Kurt is not in love with me," you say. "End of story."

They both heave sighs.

"Just watch his tail," Rogue says. "Kurt can hide a lot, but he can't control how he—"

BAMF!

You flinch as Kurt teleports into the kitchen. He grins and waves, then bounces around the table to greet the others.

"I'm back!" he says. "I hope my mac did not get cold. Will you be eating with us?"

"No, that's okay," Rogue says, looking at you meaningfully behind Kurt's back. "Rain check. We've gotta go train."

Gambit winks at you. "See y'all."

They disappear quickly. Kurt turns to you, blissfully unaware of your newly formed nerves.

"I am sorry I was gone for so long," Kurt says, sitting down to his bowl. "Jean had some questions about my abilities. Apparently, she's trying to replicate them in a machine."

"That's okay," you say. "Rogue and G kept me company."

Kurt beams. "They are so good for that, yes?"

He shovels a mouthful of mac 'n cheese into his mouth and groans in appreciation. His tail instantly curls around your wrist.

"Amazing!" Kurt says. "Perhaps your special ability is your cooking, hm? I would believe it."

You laugh. "Danke, elfie."

"Bitte schön," he says, eyes lighting up at your German. He frequently informs everyone about how good your German is becoming, even though you hardly know ten phrases.

His tail begins to stroke your arm. You wonder if he's aware of it. If he knows how his tail betrays him.

But no, that's outrageous. And even if it was true, it's not like the feeling's mutual, right?

"Oh, and," Kurt says. "I got us tickets to that show you wanted to see. They're playing it at the theater downtown. We can go on Saturday, ja?"

"You... oh. Wow. I told you about that ages ago, Kurt. You remembered?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he says, tilting his head. Like it hadn't occurred to him to be anything less than thoughtful.

"No, I'm just—thank you. That's really nice of you."

Kurt beams. "I am excited to watch the green witch und her pink friend sing!"

He keeps eating, unaware of the way he's made your world tip on its axis. Because now you know.

You're in love with Kurt Wagner. And the feeling just might be mutual.

[pinejayy]

╰➤ First Fight || One Piece

featuring: kid and law

summary: your first fight with your one piece boyfriends // here is part 2

warnings: kid being kid, curse words, law being stubborn and not wanting to eat >:((

✦•··········• 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 •··········•✦

Kid

You knew Kid had a tendency to flirt with other woman especially if he was drunk. You’ve talked to him about it and he always tells you the same thing. “Stop being so insecure Y/N. It’s a little flirting. No big deal.”

But it bothered you so much, the way he talked to these girls and how he bought them drinks and you were the one who usually didn’t get mad but this…this bothered you so much. How could your boyfriend do that to you, you were sure if the roles were reversed he would be throwing a temper tantrum.

Tonight was no different, the kid pirates were at a bar celebrating a successful raid, and the crew were getting drunk their asses off with good beer. And Kid was across the bar flirting with this unknown girl…you watched them from a distance. The way she laughed at his jokes and talked in a high pitched tone of voice to him. It was annoying…but what made you snap was when she pressed her body against his metal arm and he didn’t even bother to push her away.

Stomping your way towards him, you gave the girl a bitter smile and shove her slightly and grab Kid by the ear and proceed to drag him out of the bar, the crew couldn’t help but let out small snickers and small “Ooh! Captain is in trouble!”

Once you guys were outside, Kid slapped your arm away and you rubbed his ear. “What the hell is your problem! Did you really have to embarrass me in front of my own crew!” He snaps, raising his voice at you, his voice was a bit off which meant he was drunk…great.

Keep in mind alcohol makes Kid a bigger asshole.

Scoffing at his words “Me?! Embarrass you? Oh please, you embarrassed me! Flirting with that girl…who does that. Especially in front of their lover?” And Kid couldn’t help but roll his eyes at your words. “This bullshit again? It’s nothing, just a little flirting. Not hurting anyone. I’m sorry that you’re so insecure.”

“Kid! She practically had her chest pressed against you and you didn’t even bother to move her.”

And he just grumbled and crossed his arms, looking down at you. “Oh please, grow the fuck up. Seriously we can’t keep having this same conversation. It’s honestly getting old.”And you couldn’t help but frown at his words. “Kid. I would appreciate it if you stopped. I’m asking you nicely.”

“Ha! Well tough luck! I’m the captain around here, and if you don’t like it then don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He said and turned around and was about to walk into the bar and you grabbed his arm. “Kid. Please I’m asking you.”

And suddenly Kid snapped “FOR FUCK SAKES Y/N! STOP BEING SO INSECURE AND GROW UP! I CAN DO WHAT I WANT BECAUSE I’M EUSTASS KID!” He yelled at you, this was the first time he actually yelled at you, and you immediately moved your arm back. Feeling a bit intimidating by his loud voice, backing away slowly. Tears began to stream down your face, and Kid couldn’t help but scoff at your tears. “Great you’re crying now, you know what do yourself a favor and go back to the Victoria Punk and stay there, I don’t need your tears ruining my night.”

And with that Kid turned his back to you and before you could get a word in he walked away and back to the bar. Leaving you there alone, crying to yourself.

Now you could see why Kid gained the title of the most ruthless pirate…

Law

Your boyfriend had a tendency to skip meals to lock himself up in his office and bury himself into his books and paperwork. You would usually bring him food and made sure he had food in his stomach. And today was one of those days, you sigh to yourself and walk into his office with a plate of his favorite…Onigiri.

“Oh honey. I got your favorite.” You say with a smile across your face, and place the plate on his desk. And he didn’t even bother looking away from his book. Just letting out a small “Hmm..”

“Hey you can at least look at me. While I’m talking to you.” You say and sat on his desk. And Law took a quick glance at you. “There..Happy.” He mumbled and began to read again. You just sigh, and roll your eyes and decided not to push him further. You knew how he could get whenever he was too busy reading. “So…” Trying to start conversation.

“Do you need something Y/N-ya. Can’t you tell I’m busy here?” He sighed out and placed his book down. “And please, get your bottom off of my desk.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You mumbled and off of his desk. “Just wanna make sure you eat something.” Speaking softly, usually Law would appreciate this gesture but today he felt more annoyed. And he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at your words, which made you frown. He’s never acted this way towards you.

Letting out a deep sigh, he spoke up once again. “I understand that, but I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to mother me.”

“I’m not…I’m just looking out for my boyfriend.” You say, and picked up the plate of Onigiri and offered him the food and he looked away. “Please eat something…you’ve been in this office all day. Your book can wait.”

And Law sighed “Or maybe you can wait, have you ever thought about that?” He snaps slightly, which made you frown even more. “I just…thought…well you need to eat.” You say, struggling to speak. “Look if I wanna eat I’ll eat okay, I don’t need you to mother me, now please can I go back to my book.”

“No, you need to eat something. Your book can wait. So eat.” You demanded.

“And who do you think you are speaking to me like that? Huh? In case you’ve forgotten I’m the captain of this ship-”

“And I’m your lover as well!” You quickly cut him off, and he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “God you’re like an annoying fly that won’t go away. So annoying.”

“Excuse me?” You say and before you could speak even more Law spoke in firm tone of voice. “What? Can’t understand basic English? I said that you’re annoying me.” He lets out a heavy sigh, he watched your face and how you reacted to his words. “Please. Can’t you understand that I just wanna read my book, I don’t need your constant breathing down my neck. So please be useful and leave my office.”

And you stood there, Law has never spoken to you like that before. Looking down and away from his gaze, you tried not to cry. You place the plate down again on his desk. And a single tear slipped out and Law caught a glimpse of it and immediately felt awful. He was about to speak up but you quickly walked out and left him alone in his office.

“Fuck..” He mumbled to himself, and he looked at the plate of good and his stomach growled. God he hadn’t noticed how hungry he was. But he felt awful, he’s never spoken to you like that.

tagging: @st4rpiece ,, @takamimami ,, @zalera8310 ,, @oatmealmika

[missmarveledsblog]

Dustin's got a sister? ( Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader)

summary : friday where DND nothing would stop that except the discovery of Dustin Hendersons older sister of course which leds to eddie wondering if he was wrong about the whole love at first sight thing being crap .

warnings : fluffy fast burn , mutual pinning , eddie being a simp for sure . picture doesn't represent the reader it was just a fic cover i made

Friday meant one thing to Eddie munson and that was Hellfire night . The club were beginning what he could only describe as his best campaign yet ,the loud roars and cheer or cries filled the basement of Dustin Henderson since the older boys graduated it became the new spot . What Eddie didn't know was that the boys were not the only ones in the house as the music upstairs caused them to halt and look to the owner of said basement in confusion .

 " It's just my sister , ignore her" he shrugged, wanting to continue but the sudden excitement of Lucas and Mike only made the older boy more curious .

" sister since when do you have a sister" Eddie almost challenged. " since my mom and dad you know and then she was born" Dustin's head tilted knowing he'd mentioned her before .

"and She's smoking hot" Lucas blurted out for Mike Wheeler to nod eagerly in agreement.

" How come we've never seen her around?" Gareth asked .

" because she went to a different school and usually she was with her asshole boyfriend but they broke up also she hangs out with Steve and robin, she also busy with college stuff " Dustin looked around the table seeing all their confused faces.

" Wait, I've never seen her when I hang out with them" Eddie looked at the boy .

" that's because she was with her boyfriend ,I literally just said that" he rolled his eyes.

" hey dusty bun you down there .... Oh shit sorry i forgot you had company" all their eyes landed on the woman standing there hair wrapped in a towel and dressed in shorts and tank top .

" hey Y/N" Lucas waved dreamingly . 

" Hey Sinclair," she smiled . 

" Hey wanna join," Mike asked.

" I can't tonight. I got a paper due on Monday, just came down to see if Dustin ate , but now the question expands , "Do you guys want pizza?" she smiled bright towards them, eddie could have sworn he had drool coming out of his mouth .

" yeah totally would eat pizza with you" Jeff chin resting in his hands . " Ok pepperoni would be a safe choice right" she looked, seeing them all nod . " ok i shall call when it's here " she ran up the stairs, cheeks heated suddenly aware of her attire and the eyes of the boys roaming her body . 

" How the hell is that your sister?" gareth asked, totally in awe .

 " Told you , smoking hot" Lucas beamed proudly.

" You asked her to join, why ?" Eddie almost whispered not ready for the answer in fair of his mind short circuiting even more that it was . " because she's the reason that we know how to play" Mike whispered back, sending the group of boys almost into a group of school girls fawning .

 " So you're telling me that the smoking hot goddess of a woman is a nerd like us" .

 " Can you all please stop calling my sister hot?" Dustin grimaced, suddenly regretting offering his basement for the Hellfire club . when the music changed and the familiar riffs flooded his ear drums . 

" Is that?... YOUR HOT SISTER LIKES METAL" Eddie almost roared across the table . 

" Is it too late to quit hellfire?" Dustin groaned.

It seemed the campaign was forgotten about after half an hour of questioning. Dustin Henderson was never more grateful for the pizza man's arrival but when she told them to come up he was almost trampled as his friends tried getting up the stairs .

" holy shit you guys must be hungry , no need to panic i got more than enough " she laughed seeing them pushing each other out of the way . 

" Totally starving" gareth smiled brightly.

" ok well plates are there and help yourself" she pointed to the counter .

" ladies first" Eddie smiled, arm outstretched . 

" Thank you" she moved, grabbing her plate and pizza before heading to the sofa. " I just stuck on halloween if you guys wanna join" she called eyes on the screen not seeing the pushing and shoving happening in the kitchen before eddie smiled victoriously beside her. " I love this movie" he winked . 

" I literally only started it so you all aren't missing much ... wait what about the campaign" her head tilted as they all sighed in content.

" Apparently due to hormones it's over" Dustin grumbled sitting on the other side of her . 

" Shit sorry that was my fault if I'm being too loud I can go to my room" she offered only for a chorus of no's and don't to fill the room . " you're fine, really we can do it another time apparently" Dustin smiled seeing the worry on her face. Before anyone else could say anything the doorbell went off making her run out to see who it was totally forgetting she invited steve and robin over.

" hey if you can find a place to sit" she led the two in.

" Hey guys," the three kids called.

"Hey Harrington man , nice to see you , how come you never mentioned the sweetheart of a sister Dustin had before" Eddie smiled yet glaring at his friend.

" because Dustin told me not to" he shrugged, heading off to the kitchen .

 "Do I embarrass you or something?" She turned to her brother.

" No just you were with that douche before and i didn't want him embarrassing me" he lied easily . 

" That's a good point," Robin nodded .

 " I hated that guy so much" Steve agreed eagerly as he handed Robin her plate as he sat beside Dustin .

 " Ok enough about my ex and let's watch the movie" she huffed, letting her damp nearly dry hair out of the towel . As soon as the lights went out all their attention went to the movie playing well mostly to the movie. Eddie's attention did try to stick to the screen but it often shifted to the girl sitting beside him. wondering how the hell he wasn't a puddle in the chair or if the beating of his heart was audible given how fast it was , was he sweating cause sure as hell felt like it . He watched the light of tv shine on her face, her relaxed state or... shit she grabbed his hand , why was he short circuiting over a girl grabbing his hand . 

" Sorry that part always make me jump" she whispered soft laugh spilling from her pillow plump lips , he could of sworn he saw a blush on her face but wasn't sure giving the limited light .

" if you need to grab it again feel free too" he whispered back smiling so wide showing off his dimples .

" thank you munson" now he was hoping more parts would make her jump . her hand in his throughout the movie it turned out his campaign wasn't the highlight of this Friday after all.

Once the movie ended Dustin hit the lights making them all groan at the sudden intrusive brightness . except the light snores filled out the room making them all turn to see the older henderson and eddie passed out cold her head on his shoulder and his hand holding hers .

 " Awhh that's so cute" Robin cooed, hiding her amusement.

" Damn it, I was gonna ask her out " Gareth growled, making everyone turn to the boy . " I said that out loud huh?" he stood rubbing the back of his neck .

 " Very loud," Steve snorted . "Come on i can drop you guys home" he stretched as the all looked at him wide eyed.

" Seriously "king"Steve Harrington is going to let us be seen with him" Jeff almost gasped out.

" yeah yeah dont cream your pants , come let them sleep" he ushered the gang of still shocked boys out the door. Only for Dustin to slam it shut behind them waking the two .

 "Where is everyone?" she asked, confused.

" yeah i remembered more people being here" Eddie rubbed his eyes . 

" Steve's dropping them home since you two were all cuddled up in sleepland" . 

"Shit i'll go clean up and head out before your mom comes home '' Eddie yawned and stretched ready to head back down to the basement . 

"Just stay, she's not home till Sunday," Dustin yelled, heading down to his own room . 

" If you want to, I mean we can watch another movie," she smiled nervously was he making her uncomfortable or was it something else.

" Yeah i could totally stay, I got some clothes in my van , let me grab them" he beamed with excitement.

" I'm going for a smoke so i'll come out with you" she grabbed her shoes and jacket pulling out the carton of cigarettes and lighter . 

" Lead the way princess" he opened the door letting her walk out first. The night's crisp air hitting them , she stood on the porch as he ran down grabbing the backpack out of his van given his original plan was to sleep at jeff's for the night so wayne could have a night's sleep in his room for once. When he looked back to see she was sitting on what he called the outdoor sofa to rile Dustin up, her eyes looking up at the sky lost in the stars above even then she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen . The slow exhale of smoke and she turned to smile at his approaching figure .

 " You cold, i can give you my jacket" he was already going to take it off pulling out his own cigarettes.

" no it's not too chilly tonight ,it actually a nice night" she mused moving so he could sit beside her.

"So Dustin mentioned you went to a different school. How come" he asked, wanting to know everything and anything about the woman sitting beside him . 

" You don't remember me huh?" she asked, confusing him completely.

" we actually went to the same school til i'd say middle school i changed schools because tommy hagan kinda made my life hell so my mom moved me to a different school since the principle wouldn't do anything about it , i was fat kid with curly ass hair , he called me sparky cause of this'' She shrugged the jacket showing the lightning bolt scar on her arm Making him remember completely who she was.

" shit yeah i remember, i also remember you punching him when he picked on other kids" he mused.

" another reason i had to move schools, the irony of letting myself being their victim and yet seeing ready when i seen them torment someone else " she snorted, tapping the ash of her cigarette . 

" Shit i would've never pictured you and Dustin to be siblings," he chuckled.

" Well back then my parents were still married and I wasn't always Henderson" She pointed out.

" Well that also checks out, still i've always thought that scar was metal , how you get it?" . 

"Wasn't struck by lightning sadly that would of been cooler no i burned it trying to make my own shield" she giggled. "

That's still metal in my books" he chuckled. 

" I guess your right I mean my mom didn't think so in the ER but hey it was good shield think it's still in the garage" throwing the cigarette away , sneaking a quick glance at the most adorable and probably hottest guy she ever met sitting beside her .

" you in college now or ? " he asked .

" yeah just an hour drive away, studying nursing what about you ? " she turned. Her eyes made him completely weak at the knee's .

" apprentice mechanic " she noticed how his smiled didn't quite reach his eyes when he said it .

" well if you ever get hurt on the job call me, I'll come nurse you back to heath " she nudging him playfully there it was a real smile on his pretty face.

" come on we head in or I'll be the nurse when you catch some flu or cold being out here " he stood holding his hand out to help her up .

" wanna was nightmare on elm Street" she asked.

" of course and if you get scared you can hold my hand " he winked as they walked into the house.

" I mean it is scary movie dare I say even terrifying you might get sick of me holding your hand" she teased heading to the other side of the room to grab the tape and a blanket .

" never would I do such a thing " he held his hand over his heart those damn dimples that made her heart skip a beat or the glint of the rings as he held his hand over his heart.

" could you put the movie in , I'll grab the snacks and some drinks " she scurried of the kitchen . Putting the movie on pause before he called to say he was putting some pyjamas on before it got started .

When he came in she had snacks pile on top of each other along with the soda . He could of sworn he caught her checking him out but brushing it off instantly.

" ready" she lifted the blanket up for him to join .

" born ready darling " he hit the lights as the second movie of the night started playing he suddenly felt the,warmth of her palm in his . " just incase I get to scared " she winked now he was one who was grateful for lack of lights cause he was sure he was beet red now.

" better safe the sorry " he whispered his voice almost cracking in the nervous manner of possibly the hottest most beautiful girl he'd met holding his hand ... his goddamned hand . the two say eyes locked on screen itching to look at the person at their side . She inched her way closer as the movie played when jumpscare came on she couldn't help bury her head In his chest . The smell of his cologne and cigarette filled her sense as she felt the vibrations of his laugh as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'll keep you safe princess " she could feel the almost cocky grin in his words feeling her little plan worked .

" thank you eddie my hero " she cooed looking up through her lashes making his gulp audibly leaning up and a peck to his lips, he was sure to die in his spot . A victory smile she kept her head on his chest while his arm was wrapped around her , she could hear the now steady beating of his heart as he gotten comfortable in the new position his hand rubbing up and down her back . Wasn't long til the two got way to comfortable and feel asleep in each others arms to content to even care .

[intoxicated-chan]

I just wanted to say I love your writing 😭 and if I could request like what if Miguel O’Hara was kinda close with some spider kid (around like 16?) and they reminded him of the daughter he lost? (All in a platonic father m daughter way)

Welcome to the Family

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara & Spider!Teen!F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel didn’t know what you reminded him of, but it takes a few times to finally get it.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Welcome to the Family” by Avenged Sevenfold. Thank you for waiting and for requesting! And thank you for loving my writing. It means a lot.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.5k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, abuse, angst-to-fluff, talk of marriage, violence, injuries…

Small Spoiler Warning for ATSV!!

Alright, let me explain… My name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I was bitten by a radioactive spider. For the past two years, I’ve been the one and only Spider-Woman. I thought everything was going well until I was disowned by my parents, and lost my aunt the same day. From then on, I chose to be distant from society, no matter how much I craved a relationship.

“What are you doing here (F/n).” You crossed your arms, staring directly at the man you once called father.

“I’m still your father.”

“I thought you said, you’re no longer the child I raised?” You told.

“Don’t talk back to me!”

“I’m simply stating the fact is all.”

He shakes his head, “You know, your mother is disappointed. And I’m sure your aunt would be as well.”

Your eyes narrow at him, “Don’t you speak of my aunt.”

“I can talk to her however I want, she is my sister.”

“A sister you abandoned.”

The second he stepped towards you, you jumped back, keeping yourself at a distance, “Why the hell are you here anyways? I know you don’t want to see me.”

“You can still make this right.” He started to explain, “The boy’s family is still willing to have you, even after your idiotic display of teenage emotions. You either take the boy or leave.”

“I told you I won’t. It’s shocking how you’re willing to betray your daughter over a family you don’t even know.”

“I never wanted a daughter! If you want to make things right, if you want us to forgive you, then you will marry this boy!”

“And I told you no! Now get out of here!” You shouted at him, “Leave me alone!”

“I should’ve left you and your mother the day you were born.” And with that, he’s gone, slamming the door to the rooftop on his way out.

But you. You’re a mess.

Your mother didn’t hate you as much as your father did, but you could see it every time she looked at you. The disappointment, the failure, and how much of a disgrace you were to your so-called family.

And that boy was supposed to fix everything, only because he was made of money.

You fell to your knees, holding yourself as tight as possible as you cried to yourself. As much as you were out of there, you were all alone.

No family and you lost your only friend. Your aunt.

Then, you saw trash floating in front of you. You grabbed the cab right out of the air and saw it reflecting colors that were behind you… Behind you?

You slowly stood, turning around to see a rather colorful portal. It was causing some effect as everything around it was floating, then you heard it.

First, it sounded like a whisper then it came right at you. Luckily you dodged on time and the figure flew past you.

A loud thud, followed by a man’s voice getting angry at a woman called Lyla.

You hid behind a metal pole, watching the man stand to his feet, “This is the fourth time Lyla!” He growled.

“I told you, it’s still in the prototype stage.” She retorted.

“And I-“ He sees you, badly hiding behind the pole.

“…Hi?” You wave.

“Lyla, is this?”

“Yep, this universe’s Spider-Man, or Spider-Woman.” She corrected.

“I’m-“ His nose scrunches, “Is this a bad time?”

“What?”

He points to his eyes, “They’re red.”

“Oh! Um, it’s fine. Everything is fine.” You lie, rubbing your eyes and probably making them worse, “It was taken care of.”

He hums, “Then, I’m Miguel O’Hara and I’m Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man? But I thought I was the only one.” You began to circle him, “But your suit is very… Blue.”

“Thanks. As I was saying, I am Spider-Man but from another universe. I need you to come with me.”

“Why should I go with you?” You eye him up and down.

“I’ve seen what happened here. How your parents are disappointed in you. All I am asking you is to trust me, I offering you a chance for a new chance.” He sticks his hand out, “So?”

That was almost a year ago…

“I can look after Mayday for you.” You tell Peter B. who looks very tired.

“Are you sure?” He tiredly asked.

“Of course, go and get some rest.” Taking Mayday in your arms and pushing him away, “Looks like it’s me and you today!”

She coos at you, reaching toward your face, “How about we pay Uncle Miggy a visit? Wouldn’t that be fun?” She giggles in response, “Let’s go then.” Holding her tightly, not wanting to swing with her arms.

Miguel’s eyes are focused on the screen, hearing his daughter’s laughter made him heartache.

“Miguel!” You shout from below, “Care to come down?! I rather not have her fall!”

He’s fast to close the screen and lowering his desk or… The desk is down on the ground. A minute later, it hits the ground and he turns to face you.

“Yes?” He rubs his eyes.

“Tired as well?”

“No.”

“Lies!” You come closer, taking a seat on the floating thing, “Come on, sit with me.” Setting Mayday on the ground, luckily her web shooter was taken away recently.

Miguel does as you say, “Is something wrong?” He asked.

“I just wanted to talk to you, is that wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just you sounded worried at first. I thought something happened.”

You run your fingers through her hair carefully, “You’re doing it again, shutting everyone out by shoving yourself into work.”

Miguel sighs, “I told you, the fate of the multiverse-“

“Let’s not talk about work right now.” You use your webbing to bring the paper bag towards you, “I know sweets are not your thing so I brought an empanada with me.”

Two cupcakes and an empanada. One for you and Mayday. You hand the empanada to Miguel who gladly takes it.

Then hand a cupcake to Mayday, “Please eat it carefully.” You beg her, knowing either way it’s going to be a mess.

Before you could even take a bite out of yours, she begins climbing you with her sweet still in hand which makes some of the fostering go on you.

“Mayday!” You laugh, and she sets herself on your shoulders, eating her cupcake, “At least she’s happy.” Finally, you take a bite of yours, not noticing Miguel’s stare.

His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly open, and his breathing staggered. His heart once again broke at the sight. He didn’t know what to feel, what to say, or do.

“Miguel? Are you alright?” You gently pull Mayday off your shoulders and back to the ground, “You haven’t taken a bite.”

“Yeah.” He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, “I’m alright.”

Then a few weeks pass… or so you thought.

“This was his fault!”

“He was just trying to help!”

“Help?! Look where it put her!”

Whose voice was whose? Why does everything feel so heavy? Why… Why is it so dark?

“Miguel! Calm down!”

“Enough! Both of you leave the room.” Jessica orders, “She’s waking up.”

“No, I want to be here.” Miguel tried to stay.

“You’ll see her after you calm down, now go.” Jessica watched until she was sure they were gone.

You open your heavy eyes, wincing at the light in the room, “Jessica?”

“Welcome back. Took your time.”,

“What happened?”

“You went out and followed Gwen to Pavitr’s universe, and so did Miles and Hobie. But everything went haywire, and the ground under you collapsed. You fell a good number of floors. Hobie brought you back.” She explained.

“Miles… Where is he?”

“That’s not my place to say. I know Miguel is waiting outside, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Thanks, Jessica.”

She leaves and Miguel practically runs in, taking the seat next to your bed.

“…Hi.” You say, sitting up.

“How are you feeling?” Miguel asked.

“Tired, confused… Not sure how to feel after but-“

“(Y/n), you’ve been unconscious for a few weeks. You didn’t just fall, you went in after I told you no.”

“You know I’m not going to stand by.”

“But none of this would’ve happened if you just stayed and done what I told you.”

“Why do you care? I thought your focus was on the multiverse?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“But why?”

“Because-!” He takes a deep breath, “…I can’t lose another daughter. I never told you what happened but you know that I lost her. I wanted you to stay to the side all these times because every time I look at you, you’re so much like her. Losing you would be the day I snap.”

“I’m… Sorry that I remind you of her. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You whisper.

“I know you didn’t, and I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

You smile, “Can I say something?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copy, translated, or put my work on any other platform without my permission.

[imfinereallyy]

“Steve, it’s an emergency. I need to kiss you. Actually, I need you to kiss me. But I can’t just do it without asking because what if you don’t want me to, and I practically attack you? So yes or no? I swear it’s for a good cause.” Eddie comes running up to Steve in the bar, panting so hard Steve can see the chest movements.

They have taken Robin to a bar out in Indy to get her laid finally. Or at least a tongue in her mouth. The girl is pent up. And it’s Steve’s job as best friend to make that happen (Robin has told him to stop saying that, ‘it is gross’). Eddie is the only other queer person they know and, luckily, has made quite a few trips to Indy to know which bars were the good ones. He tells Steve that, like Robin, he is desperate to get laid, so this is the perfect opportunity.

Steve does his best to try and ignore the burning jealousy he feels at that. Eddie doesn’t know about his feelings (hell about his sexuality), and Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn’t see him that way.

“Huh?” Asks confused, his brain struggling to process.

“Okay, I see you’re stuck on how to answer, but Steve—“ Eddie grips Steve’s shoulder, and Steve tries not to swoon. “—my ex, the extra shitty one, is here, and if he sees me alone I’ll either a) go home with him tonight and—“

Steve cuts Eddie off with a searing kiss. The thought of Eddie going home with someone else was enough for Steve’s brain to catch up to speed. Steve presses Eddie against the bar. The loud bass of the music suddenly becomes a light thrum in the background. All that he feels is the delightful pressure of their lips together. Eddie’s hands slide up into Steve’s hair as he gets pressed harder into the bar. Steve’s hands' grip Eddie’s waist and give them a tight squeeze. The idea of bruises being left behind, a mark of what they are doing here, makes Steve deepen the kiss. His tongue used to massage Eddie’s, tasting the menthol and rum on his breath. Eddie moans loud and heavy, vibrating Steve’s entire body.

“Eddie?” A voice interrupts them. Steve feels his anger spark back slightly but wills it down because the interruption is probably needed. They are very close to getting kicked out for public indecency.

“Oh hey, Ryan.” Eddie looks the blonde man up and down. He’s cute, Steve notes, but he lacked personality in his appearance. He isn’t what Steve expects from an ex of Eddie’s. He isn’t naive enough to think Eddie dates exclusively metal heads, but he expects someone to match Eddie’s energy. This guy—Ryan apparently—looks like every other guy you’d find on a Sunday in Supermart. Boring and lacking imagination.

“Who’s this?” Ryan looks at Steve pissed.

“Steve?” Eddie wraps an arm around his waist, bringing Steve close up against him. “This is my boyfriend.”

“This dude’s your boyfriend?” Ryan snorts. “C'mon baby, I know you can do better.”

Steve feels his anger finally pop. “He is not your baby. Yea, he can do better than both of us combine, but I’m lucky enough to get him. Now, you interrupted our time together, and we both know you saw what we’re up to, so don’t act like it wasn’t on purpose.”

Ryan startles backwards, “I—“

“Sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear. I meant leave the fuck right now.” Steve grits out, some of his Upside Down protection mode popping out. Ryan scatters quickly.

“Jesus, Steve, that was amazing. I’m sorry I had to make you uncomfortable with that.” Eddie’s eyes find his and cuts Steve off before he can protest and explain no, he really did like that “—and you never even let me explain reason b, by the way! Reason b is b) he would probably humiliate me in the middle of the club.”

Steve nods at Eddie but has one track mind at this point. He grabs Eddie by the face this time before crashing their lips together once again. This time Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth as they both get lost in the kiss.

Steve pulls back ever so slightly and talks directly into Eddie’s mouth, “Sorry. I think he’s still staring. Needed to do more.”

Eddie, with swollen lips and a kissed-out face, looks around the bar to find nothing. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

Steve smirks and pulls Eddie by his belt loops so they are flushed together. Steve leans into Eddie’s ear and nibbles at his lobe. “Hmmm, you’re right. I think he’s actually in the bathroom. Maybe we should kiss in front of him there.” Steve whispers hotly.

Eddie’s brain, which has short-circuited much like Steve only minutes ago, finally catches up. Eddie groans, his face collapsing into Steve’s neck. He licks a stripe up Steve’s neck all the way to his mouth. “Fuck. Yea, baby, I think I saw him too. Think kissing, though, won’t be enough. We might need to up our game.”

Steve nips at Eddie’s lips, “I was hoping you would say that. Guess I just know how much you love your games, Eds.”

They meet each other for one last searing kiss before rushing to the bathrooms to share a very tight, very heated stall.

[unclewaynemunson]

Yall voted for the sober version of this premise so here ya go:

Steve doesn't know exactly what he had expected kissing Eddie would be like, but it sure as hell wasn't this. He would've expected something rough and raw, bared teeth and maybe fingers pulling at his hair. But what he gets instead is something infinitely soft, something resembling tenderness... It makes it all the more difficult for him to pull back.

“What's wrong, Stevie?” Eddie asks after one look at Steve's face.

“I need to tell you something,” Steve manages to choke out.

And Eddie wraps his arms all around him, pulling him closer until his head is lying right against Eddie's beating heart. That heartbeat, steady and reassuring, is all he focuses on while he talks.

“Remember last summer? The mall fire that wasn't really a mall fire?”

“You finally gonna tell me what happened there?” Eddie says. It doesn't sound accusatory, just curious and a little confused as to where this is headed.

“I don't really like to talk about it,” Steve confesses. He closes his eyes, flashes of what happened back then floating to the surface of his mind again.

“We – Robin and I – we were captured by Russian soldiers. They tied us up and interrogated us for hours. They thought we were spies, so they tried to get us to give up information. They hit me.” He pauses to take a breath. “They hurt me real bad, Eddie. Until I was bleeding all over. Until I lost consciousness and Robin thought I was dead. The only reason we survived is because they thought we would have useful information for them.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve...”

Eddie's grip around him tightens, but Steve lifts his head up and makes a half-hearted attempt to crawl away from him. The hardest part has yet to come.

“I really, really like you, Eddie,” he says. “But I can't do this with you.”

Confusion flashes over Eddie's features: his eyes widen and the lines around his lips become deeper. But he still doesn't loosen his grip.

“What do you mean?”

“It's the –“ Steve clears his throat. “I know what it means, the – your hanky. I got a cousin in New York who knows all about that shit, they send me magazines sometimes when my parents aren't home. I'm sorry, Eddie, but I can't do that, like, ever. It's only gonna make me relive that shit from last year. There's no way I can ever give you what you need, so it wouldn't be fair to...” He trails off, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eddie still looks as confused as ever.

“Your hanky,” Steve uselessly repeats. “You're flagging, aren't you? You're into, like, hurting people, right?”

Steve watches how Eddie's jaw drops, almost in slow motion.

“This?” he asks, grabbing behind him and taking the black piece of fabric, covered in skulls, out of his back pocket.

Steve nods.

Eddie laughs, but it sounds fake and on edge, quickly dying out again. “Steve. This is a metal thing. It looks badass, y'know. I literally have no idea what you're – flagging?”

A gasp escapes Steve's lips and he feels his heartbeat speed up with something that must be hope.

“Are you serious?”

Eddie nods, his brows still furrowed and that endearingly confused look of I-have-no-clue-what-the-hell-is-going-on not leaving his eyes.

It feels like Steve's heart is starting to run laps in his chest, now. He can barely suppress the laughter that's bubbling up inside of him.

“What the hell are you trying to tell me, Steve?”

He grabs the hanky that's still in Eddie's hand.

“I thought you were flagging,” he weakly explains. “It's like a code. To signal what you like to do, y'know, in the bedroom. The black, it means – I thought you were into, like, BDSM shit. Things I can't do: being tied down, getting hurt...”

“Why the hell would I get off on hurting you, Stevie?”

It sounds so ridiculously innocent and horrified: Eddie the freak, Eddie the scary metalhead – Eddie who is genuinely shocked at the suggestion that he had in any way created an image for himself in which it made sense that he'd be into pain.

“I mean, if you would, I wouldn't wanna judge you or whatever,” Steve is quick to say. “You'd be surprised how many people are into that shit, I'm not here to shame anyone. But if you aren't... I'm really fucking relieved, man.”

He still vividly remembers what happened when he was dating Daphne, who had once taken his wrists in her hands and pinned them down on the mattress above his head while she was on top of him. Or when he was with Melissa, who had half-jokingly slapped his ass one time when things were getting heated between them. Anything restricting his movements, anything unexpected, could make him lose his shit now, as he had had to find out the hard way. It had made him believe that he could never actually have Eddie, that that would be asking too big of a sacrifice of either one of them, an impossible kind of compromise, no matter how much they liked one another. But instead, here he is, with Eddie looking at him with the softest look in his eyes, actually having talked about his shit before they even got up to anything more than kissing.

So he tells him, stumbling his way through the words, about his experiences with Daphne and with Melissa. And Eddie listens to him patiently, his big eyes never once leaving Steve's, nodding as if he's mentally taking notes of what to do and what not to do.

“We can take it as slow as you need to,” Eddie tells him when he's finished, his voice sincere and reassuring.

“It's not about taking it slow,” Steve assures him. “It isn't about not being ready. It's more about...” He pauses to think. “It's about trust. I trust you.”

Eddie's hands, that are still wrapped around Steve's torso, tighten for a moment and he blinks rapidly a few times. He looks overwhelmed by Steve's words.

“Okay,” he finally says, a little bit more hoarse than before. “So if it's about trust, can I trust you to tell me whenever something I do is bringing back unwanted memories?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

It's always been difficult for him to talk about what happened that day underneath the mall. But he realizes he has already done the difficult part: Eddie already knows about the memories he is carrying with him. That must make it easier to talk about it in case it will ever be necessary.

Soft lips press against his temple and he drops his head back on Eddie's chest.

“Good,” says Eddie. The sound of his voice vibrates through Steve's whole body; he doesn't think there's anything more comforting than being completely wrapped up in Eddie like this.

A hand lands in his hair and starts stroking through it softly.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Eddie mumbles. “That couldn't have been easy.”

In return, Steve wants to thank Eddie for being as sweet and understanding as he has been, but the exhaustion of having this talk is washing over him in big, heavy waves. So he merely hums and lets his eyes fall shut.

“You wanna stay the night?” Eddie asks. “We don't have to do anything right now – we can go straight to sleep, how does that sound?”

Steve nuzzles his head further into Eddie's chest. “Sounds good,” he murmurs. He can't imagine ever wanting to sleep on his own again.

[gay-dorito-dust]

my WiFi was really shit when i sent in the request . just wanted to ask if you got it !! ^-^ sorry if this seems nagging .. m not meaning for it to

—> request was the x viktor comfort fic w an alternate ending to the series finale

(—@mister-ancunin)

Tumblr glitched on me multiple times yesterday (why, no clue) and i don’t know what it did with the request, but I remember seeing enough to remember what the request was before the request was taken, if that makes sense. So I might as well do it here while I can still remember it for compensation and hope you’d like it. (This was way too long and drawn out so I’m sorry about that)

The ash and dust has subsided as an uneasy quiet befell Piltover or rather what’s left of Piltover from the brutal conflict with Ambessa and the Noxian army. There was rubble and ruin everywhere you looked as building structures reduced to its foundations or heavily damaged, blood stained the pavement underfoot as you gingerly walked amongst the corpses of the people you’ve fought alongside with amidst the white and gold metallic corpses of what once was Viktor’s commune.

While you were happy that the fighting was over, that happiness almost felt misplaced or inappropriate in this moment and time as it seemed as though Piltover was silently mourning the people who fought valiantly. You couldn’t help but close the eyes of those that you passed by, wishing them eternal rest and peace now that their pain and suffering has long passed, letting them know their efforts were not lost on anyone at all. You all came together as a united front against a common enemy and fought like it was going to be your last time alive, and you saw a lot of people that you’ve known for a while fight like hell and you couldn’t be prouder of them.

‘You fought well.’ You said softly as you closed the eyes of what felt like the hundredth fallen soldier you’ve come across, unable to think of anything but their family and friends who are going to be looking for them. ‘It’s time to rest now.’ You add as you got up from kneeling, wincing as you as you were reminded of your own injuries which consisted of a gash on your upper arm and an even bigger gash spanning from your left shoulder to the middle of your back, amongst many other minor injures that stung when the breeze past them.

‘Fuck.’ You hissed as you waited out the throbbing pain with clenched teeth before moving on ahead. Where you were heading you weren’t quite sure. You were just wandering the battlefield with only your breathing, footfalls were the only thing you could hear that you thought with all the metal clashing, the screaming, the gunshots and the war cries that filled the air had finally made you deaf. However as you wandered the ruins of a once pristine city, your thoughts brought you back to Viktor and your soul ached, soured. You had lost him more times then you could count and even now you couldn’t help but morbidly think of whether you’d find his corpse amongst the others, but another part of you was wishing that you’d find him alive in whatever form he decided to take you prayed that he was alive nonetheless…even if he was the reason for all of this.

You could vaguely remember your last interaction with Viktor. While he looked like himself, he didn’t act it despite the softness of his sweet voice didn’t chance but one look into his amber eyes and you could tell that something was off, your sweetheart was lost, adrift somewhere and you couldn’t help him. You remember cupping his face in your hands, looking him over as though it was the last time you’d ever see him, and you wanted to engrave each one of his beautiful features into your mind in hopes that you’d see him even in your sleep. You called out his name for you could realise him even from behind, happy to see him breathing and without hesitation you hugged him when you saw him look back at you with recognition, holding him tight as you felt the cool metal of his new form press into you bitingly through the soft robe he wore.

You should’ve know that happiness wouldn’t last with what came after when Viktor touched your hands, seeing something within your mind that you couldn’t comprehend just yet but you knew nothing good came of it and nothing did, after all wars were started for far less but still you felt the sting and pain of your aching body as you found yourself unable to keep walking and sat against the wall and look up to the sky. Hoping. Hoping that after this everything will improve so that this can never happen again but that was wishful thinking and you knew that as you chuckled, too tired to carry yourself to where everyone else was.

You were too exhausted to care about the sting of your wounds nor the sound of someone approaching you from afar as you thought about closing your burning eyes for a small reprieve. It was the least you deserved and what you were going to rewards yourself with, until you saw a towering figure of dark purple and gold weaved together gliding through the rubble and dust like an angle of death. You thought about holding your breath, making it think that you were just another corpse amongst the millions of others but then there was that familiar warmth that flooded through you, you knew who this was before you even speak his name and before you knew it you were stumbling to get on your feet.

‘Viktor?’ You asked softly, far too softly for anyone to hear you but with the deafening silence that hung like a thick smog, threatening to choke you out, you would’ve be surprised if even the smallest of whispers sounded like angered, thunderous shouts of raw emotion. ‘Viktor is that you?’ You asked again, this time a little louder as you weakly hobbled towards the being of metal covered by what remained of his robe. ‘Please tell me it’s you in there and I’m not being greeted by the grim reaper right now.’ You chuckled while holding back a whimper, not wanting to show your true emotions if this being ended up not being your beloved Viktor.

The closer the being got the taller he looked, roughly six foot maybe, you couldn’t estimate to save your life but he towered over you easily as the soft clicking of his cane against pavement. Which was something you’ve always noticed with Viktor was how he didn’t drive his cane into the ground, but more or less love tapped it as though he was being considerate of the pavements feelings in comparison to others who’d stomp their feet gracelessly. You could tell Viktor was still there from his mannerisms and the way he held himself but still you couldn’t allow yourself to faster now, not when you were in a weakened state, while he on the other hand looked unscathed and untouched as though the ash and dust refused to touch any part of him out of fear.

‘You were never good at concealing your emotions my dear.’ The familiar voice croaked, heavily distorted but you could hear him -your Viktor- and could clearly see him smiling after having easily read you like you were his favourite book. ‘Always hiding behind another emotion to keep yourself from harm or from worrying others about you. However I always saw through it each time and this time is no different, you’re hurt my muse.’ He adds as he gotten closer to you, looking down at you though his new eyes that glowed warmly like the way his amber eyes did whenever they look at you, so knowing and understanding of your character.

‘Viktor…you’re okay.’ You finally let the flood gates open as tears streaked down your cheeks, letting the worry that have almost driven you mad and close to an early grave once or twice during the raging conflict for Plitover, the fear that threatened to consume you along with the pain of knowing that you had quite possibly lost him once again. ‘I was worried sick about you but I’m glad that you okay! We’re both okay.’ You continued as you managed to get close enough to Viktor where you could hug his new form with effortless ease, the cool metallic skin bite your softer, warmer skin deliciously as you rested your head against what you could assume was his chest and drinking him in. ‘I thought it was going to loose you again.’ You cried.

‘After everything I’ve done,’ Viktor began, confused as to how you could still look at him the way you did, as if he didn’t threaten lives of countless in pursuit for perfection. ‘Everything I’ve done to you, to everyone and yet you still find it within yourself to love and care for me to cry over my whereabouts. You truly allude me my love.’ He finishes as he could only watch at you clung to him as though he was going to disappear from your grasp. ‘I knew you’d come back to me sooner or later, so why should I give up hope like everybody else had on you! I know you Viktor and I know you were stronger then to let this obsession with perfection get to you,’ you replied, squeezing your eyes tightly as though praying to a higher being to not let this be a dream of your own creation and to give you a sign that this was real, which came to you in the form of Viktor finally reciprocating the hug.

The touch was tender, calculated and precise but that didn’t stop the tears from falling from your eyes as you breathed a sigh of relief that this was true, that your Viktor had come back to find his way back to you. Even despite if it was at the end of the brutal conflict that ravaged the city but that didn’t matter for as long as he had rediscovered himself you’d be okay. ‘And while the need for perfection did consume you for a while I didn’t stop believing that you’d realise that you were the beauty that you’ve been chasing all along.’ You continued as the weariness and aching sensations wracked your body beyond belief, that and being in Viktor’s arms made you feel comforted and safe that you could easily see yourself sleeping in his cool metallic arms in the foreseeable future.

‘Your unwavering faith you have in me is commendable my love, what I would do without it I do not know nor want to know.’ Viktor says softly as he takes note of your injuries and their severity, wondering where and who they’d come from Noxian soldiers or creatures of his own creation and made sure that his touch went nowhere near the afflicted areas, as though he was afraid he irritate them. ‘Sometimes I don’t believe I’m worth it, worth something as valuable as unwavering faith and persisting belief. However your a stubborn soul that didn’t stop believing in me, even when I became…this.’ He gestures to his form of cold, biting metal but you couldn’t help by look at his softly as you kissed his chest and nuzzling back against it eagerly.

‘You’re still my Viktor regardless of how you look, no matter how much you change you’ll always be my Viktor and have to keep my faith above my worry that you’ll come back to me…you always do and I’m glad because I don’t know what I’d…what I’d..’ you trailed off as unsettlingly dark thoughts overcame you as your breath hitched in your chest and your throat tightened while a fresh wave of tears streaked down your drying cheeks. ‘I don’t want to think about right now, just please let me stay like this…please Viktor.’ You whimpered.

‘Stay however you like my love, but we will have to get your injuries cleaned and patched up, I fear for potential injection in these conditions.’ Viktor tells you softly as he continues to holds you against him for your comfort, standing tall like a protective pillar in a wasteland of death while keep you upright in your moment of weakness, and while his form has changed significantly and he’ll most certainly have to answer for his mistakes, but he’ll stand here and keep being your strength when you’ve lost it all just like you’ve been a source of strength to him for a long time. He guesses he could stay for a while longer with a new look on life, to keep you safe and to try and find the beauty and perfection in a life filled with flaws and mistakes with you by his side.

[serv0z]

cant remember if i posted these here yet but !! huzzah !! the refs I made for and before the Phony pmv yapping about it under the cut!!

All of this is based on how I view them and the timeline. Personally I think its: Fredbears opens sometime in the mid-to-late 70s, during this time the fnaf 2 location opens up within a year or two of Fredbears debut. Somewhere between 1982-1983 (pre-bite) Circus Babys opens up and then closes that very same day (Elizabeth dies). Following this is FNaF 4 at Fredbears where the place lasts about another year or 2 before closing in 1985. (Charlie dies in this period of time and the missing childrens incident takes place.) Little note is after SB shuts down the rental reopens !! Thats why its open by the time Michael goes there. FNaF 2 location shuts down 2 years after in 1987 due to the bite + the tampering of the animatronics. Shortly after the FNaF 1 location is properly opened up and deemed 'safer' since they aren't allowed free-roam in the day. Of course everything goes to hell here and the place begins to shut down in 1993 (during which the game takes place). Then SL happens at an unknown time between here (maybe 2 years after? in 1995? not sure) followed by FNaF 3 in 2023 (i do NOT believe ffps takes place in 2023 it doesnt fit at ALL). I think FFPS takes place about 2 or 3 years after in 2025 or 2026. I dont have anything for SB or HW bc it wasnt the focus so nfkjfn hopefully this all makes sense, at some point i may do refs of the missing children but because this was michael centric I mainly drew refs for him. I figured Michael looks more like his dad (especially by SL bc. yk.) and Elizabeth looks more like their mom,, Evan is somewhere inbetween. Michael and Elizabeth got their moms freckles, Evan didn't!! All of them got her darker skin though since Williams a fucking ghost. I am all for the hc of Michael tanning in fnaf 4 its so stupid and def smth a 14 year old boy trying to fit in would do I know I posted some of my Michael ideas like 2 years ago? Specifically post-SL. I feel the scooper wasnt completely centered, aiming more to his left side rather than completely centered. The damage was done, shattering his ribs and spine and really that arm was unsalvagable. I think hes replaced parts of himself with metal, like using it to connect to whats left of his spine to be able to stand properly, making a new arm either alone or with help from Henry or smth as well as needing a cane and/or leg braces to keep himself balanced. It's not farfetched since William in the books literally does something similar and it would help him look "normal". I also made the outfit bright and colorful to help sell the act. FFPS has some pretty bright colors for their front and to tie it in I added pink to his design and made it more fun and interesting, especially since he'd be around and children would be running past him and adults keepig an eye and such and the mask would probably be pretty intimidating if he didnt make it a bit more cute. Yes, that is the bow he was wearing during FNaF 1 btw!! Michaels necklace in fnaf 4 was a gift from his mom. Cant decide if i want her to leave or she passed. I think maybe if she left michael went with her? after 87 i mean. some point during those years she died and he was living on his own before returning to figure out the things his father left behind and try to find him, returnning for fnaf 1 and forward. Michael living with his mother is WHY he never noticed anything with William, he was still grieving his siblings and William would be too focused on his work to support him at all. His mom helped him work through some things, got him into therapy which he promptly dropped a bit after she died because he just. didnt have the motivation. He was alone before ending up back in Hurricane and looking for his father and learning all the atrocities committed.

I feel like Elizabeth being the youngest just. makes sense in my mind? Maybe its a personal preference but. Evan gives me middle child vibes more than youngest. Not to play into stereotypes but; older sibling having to be the 'responsible' one (and then rebelling this idea), the middle child being overlooked or ignored (nobody stopped the bullying.) and the youngest being given her very own animatronic (implimented with things she enjoyed.) side note if u call elizabeth a brat or spoiled im legally allowed to shoot u!!!!!1 Elizabeth also just. sounds very young to me with her voice and how she acts. It all gives off 'young child' rather than 'spoiled brat who gets anything she wants' yk? Her dying first ALSO just makes sense, especially witht he idea Evan saw it. She dies, he witnesses it and nobody believes him and shes just declared missing. the place goes down and its declared a 'gas leak' rather than 'my sister got eaten by an animatronic'. (I figure mrs afton is grieving and thats why she doesnt notice the bullying often.) It also works with the fnaf 4 scenario. William being fed up with him whining, not wanting to be given away by his own child so a plushie he can talk through and monitor him through, as well as setting up the illusion disks inside the room. The nightmares weren't just bad dreams, they are implied (at least from what i recall from the trilogy and ucn lines) to be real. it ties into his fear; animatronics with stomach mouths that have come to swallow him whole for what he saw. tormenting him. Its not just a bad dream to him, these are either based on how he percieves them or how he explained what he saw and William used this against him. The test with illusion disks began here. (it could also explain michael knowing abt them later in via security log book!!! the disks didt just vanish!!) This also curb stomps the idea william only began killing due to the 'loss of his children'. Not even possible. Look at the blueprints of the funtimes and compare. Those things were designed to lure, trap and kill from the very beginning. Circus babys was one of the VERY FIRST buildings to open, it just became a rental cental solely after shutting down where they were tortured and experimented on. He made these LONG before 85. anyways thats just my interpretation of the whole thing up to ffps. I dont remember everything from AR, hw, hw2, sb and ruin enough to make my own opinions on its timeline (i do have strong opinions on whats happened during it and right before but nothing leading up the opening or years and such) I mainly grew up heavily fixated on the base games, nothing really past ffps. as for Henry, he was briefly as bad as William with his work I think. If i picked up anything from the books and even the games, he was heavily focused on his work that he didn't notice his daughter die and had an animatronic watching over her instead of himself or family. i dont know if Sammy would exist in gameverse. If he did I imagine he either died/went missing very early on causing mrs. emily to leave, mrs emily left WITH him or he simply didnt exist bc Henry only focuses on Charlie here so either his son odesnt exist in this world or hes gone in some way shape or form. Henrys design is pulled from the books a bit. I wanted to make him bigger? William is slim and maybe a bit offputting but hes charming enough to get out of things. and Henry is more enthusiastic and rounder, having a loud and happy voice. I think he truly enjoyed making Fredbears happen. Cant decide if I wanna say he was in the Fredbear suit when Charlie died (giving cake) or if he was in a backroom working on things. Whatever it is I also think William tried to pin things on him. Errmm!! thats all i hve to say rn :3 its 8am im so tired so if this makes no sense. mb gang

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

@idkwthgoitmww today is your day! <3 thanks for the request! Words: 1,226 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries Summary: When Carol removes Negan from Alexandria and claims the council "banished" him, he doesn't expect to see anyone from the community again. Until Y/N shows up at his door for a visit which quickly goes sideways. A/N: I think this is just the first half of a little fic that was supposed ot be a short one shot, but I literally had no time to finish it today, so if you like it, let me know and I'll work on finishing it up when I can!

It was only mid-afternoon and Negan was beyond ready for the day to be over... He was already contemplating trying to sleep just so time would pass more quickly, but the thought that he'd wake up in the middle of the night and be unable to fall back asleep had stopped him.

The nights were dark in that little cabin alone. His thoughts were poor company. He was pouring himself a cup of water from the metal pitcher when he heard boots on the little wooden porch. He froze and strained his hearing. They approached the door slowly and then stopped. A board creaked softly underfoot. Then came a sharp resounding knock.

Negan set the pitcher down and his hand went to the fireplace poker laying on the hearth. "Who's there?" he called out. His voice was gruff and deep, markedly unwelcoming.

There was a moment of silence before your voice drifted through the wood. You sounded ...tired? "It's me. I would have called first, but—you know... zombie apocalypse and all that."

A grin grew on his face. This was an unprecedented and unexpected turn of events. His hand left the fireplace poker and he hurried to pull open the door. You were leaning against one side of the doorframe, but straightened up as he came into view. Negan was smiling at you, his hazel eyes surprised but crinkled at the corners. "Well, Hell, doll... You're about to make my week," he said.

"Your week? That's some low bar you have, Negan."

His smile quickly started to fade as he noticed you were a bit disheveled and there was a cut or smear of blood on your left ear. There was also a noticeable red mark on one side of your neck and something that looked like a fresh scratch. "You okay?" he asked, a shadow overtaking his features.

"I'm fine," you answered. "Are you going to leave me standing out here?"

Negan stepped back to let you pass by him but he was scrutinizing you carefully. "You sure? Because if I didn't know any better I'd say you had some trouble on the way here" There was a cavern between his eyebrows, deep lines of worry.

"Huh?" You tore your eyes away from the interior of the cabin and turned to look at him again.

"Your neck. And your ear, doll. What happened?"

Your hand flew to touch the top of your ear and you winced lightly as your fingers made contact with the wound. You gulped. "Just—had a little scuffle on the way here. I'm fine. Really."

"What kind of scuffle?" Negan asked, watching as you again turned to take in the inside of his cabin. You dropped your pack next to the little sofa against one wall. "That better not be a scratch from a walker on your neck," Negan said, his stomach turning even as the words left his mouth.

You turned and rolled your eyes. "No," you said. "Jesus, you think I'm some kind of amateur? Like I can't handle a walker."

"Hey, shit happens, doll," he said seriously. "Plenty of badasses have bit the dust from just the right shitstorm of shitty circumstances."

"No, it's not from a walker," you said, turning away from him again, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to shield yourself from further probing questions. You made yourself busy thumbing open the few cabinets on the far wall. Most of them were bare except for layers of dust, the odd spider web or dead bug, and of course a nice sprinkling of mouse shit. "Nice place you've got here," you said sarcastically.

Negan let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, Carol really went above and beyond finding me something special."

You turned and glanced toward the opposite wall. There were ample shelves flanking the fireplace which held a few of Negan's personal items including some books and folded linens. A couple lanterns were set around the room. "It's not a total loss. Could use a good cleaning though... and maybe a little more living in," you said pointedly, casting a look in his direction. "What have you been doing since you got here?"

Negan didn't want to tell you the uncomfortable truth—wallowing in self-pity and regret over his past actions. Hallucinating in the wee hours of the morning when sleep evaded him. He deflected. "You think I'm going to give up on hearing about that 'scuffle' so easily? What happened, doll?"

You sighed and sank down slowly on the part of the sofa that looked the least dusty. "It was nothing. I just ran into a small group on the way here and—and had to deal with them."

The shadow settled back over Negan's features. "Small group? Deal with them?" he repeated.

You sighed and avoided his eyes. "That's what I said..."

"Well, excuse me for giving a shit, but what exactly does that mean? You ran into some people and ended up with a cut in your ear and a scratch and bruise on your neck? Fill in the blanks for me," he insisted, his concern growing by the moment.

You let out a laugh you hoped sounded casual. "You haven't even asked me why I'm here!"

"I already know the fuckin' answer to that. You missed the fuck out of me and couldn't go another day without my handsome face. Now give me the details, doll. Do I need to go looking out there for some shitheads?"

"No! I told you. I dealt with them!'

Negan let out a frustrated sigh. "Why're you being so cagey about this?" he prodded.

"Maybe because I want you to leave it alone," you retorted, a steely edge to your voice. "Jesus, Negan! I'm here! It—it doesn't fucking matter!"

But he was looking at you through narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious and concerned, but at the sharpness of your tone he conceded. He sighed, sinking down in one of the chairs at the little table in the middle of the room. "Alright... why are you here then? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you. When Carol 'banished' me to this little corner of solitude I pretty much figured that'd be the last I saw of anyone from Alexandria."

Your eyes flitted up to meet his again. You shrugged, trying to ignore your nerves. "Figured I'd come check on you. Make sure you weren't swimming in a pit of despair."

Negan laughed dryly. "Wow. You give a shit about my mental state, doll? Careful. That's practically flirting in my book... Should I start unbuttoning?" he asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up," you muttered, climbing to your feet, trying hard to suppress a wince. "I brought you a few supplies. I'm not sure what Carol left you with." You grabbed the loop on the top of your pack and started lifting it up, but the weight of it—you felt like white hot lightning shot through your entire body. Your vision went black and you were vaguely aware of dropping your pack and starting to crumple.

Negan was on his feet and catching you as you dropped into unconsciousness, swearing under his breath as you tipped into his arms like a ragdoll. "Doll? Hey, wake up, darlin'!" But you were out cold and lay completely limp in his arms. "Well, shit."

A/N: Raise your hand if you want a Part 2! Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger. Literally was not my intention (this time). I've worked over 30 hours in the last three days and am pretty busy and worn out! Drop me a note to motivate me to finish this up <3 k love you byeeee

[discotitsposts]

Just Ecstasy

18+ bdsm, bondage, kinks, etc so mdni

she her pronouns used

me: i’m not gonna write smut for a while probably

also me: makes this fic

You loved your boyfriend. Really loved him. You would do anything. Well, almost anything.

The idea had seemed fun at first. A kinky little game only you two could know about.

When Spencer had held your wrists together waiting for your permission, you took a breath and said “Go ahead.”

However, the second he clicked the metal cuffs around your wrists you freaked out and tried to pull them off. You hated the feeling. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel safe with Spencer. That was one of the strongest feelings you felt with him.

In one quick motion he had unlocked the cuffs and held you saying over and over again, “It’s alright, they’re off, you’re ok.”

You two hadn’t spoken of this again.

Until you thought about it. You had wanted that so badly you had just been nervous. Of what exactly? You didn’t know. You wanted to try again.

A week later when Spencer gets home, you’re waiting in your sexiest lingerie smiling, holding up a pair of handcuffs that may work better for you. They had a soft padding on the inside. Not as harsh as just metal. You had picked them up at a sex shop earlier that day just for the occasion.

Spencer walks over to you and kisses you. “What’s all this?” He asks.

“You should know smarty pants.” You tease handing him the cuffs.

“I thought you were nervous. I just don’t want to upset you.”

“No no, we should have started with these. The metal ones just freaked me out.”

“Are you sure? Like are you surely sure?”

“I’m so sure, that I hid the key.” You laugh.

“YOU WHAT?!” Spencer yells.

“I didn’t want to chicken out again!” You shrug.

“Tell me where it is now.”

“Sorry you’re going to have to force it out of me mister agent.” You smirk.

“That’s Doctor agent to you missy.”

You turn around and shake your ass a little, “Come get me and force a confession out of me mister doctor sir.”

That’s just what he did.

Before he handcuffed your hands behind your back, he made sure you were alright. “Ready?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nod confidently.

He yet again put the cuffs on you. The click of the cuffs made a shiver run down your spine in anticipation.

He breaks character to ask, “Feel okay?”

“Yes. I’m alright.” You weren’t lying. It felt much better this time. You felt no anxiety. Just ecstasy. You practically moan at his hands roaming your body. Then his next move shocks you. Quickly getting back into character, he bends you over the table and spanks you.

“Wanna tell me where that key is young lady?” He threatens dominantly.

“Nope. My lips are sealed.”

“Hmm she’s stubborn.” He grabs your favorite vibrator and a paddle. “We’ll soon fix that.”

He presses the button on the vibrator. Nothing. “How the hell do you turn this on.” He asks.

You giggle. “Shut up.” He sneers. You stop laughing.

“Here let me.” You click and hold the button with your arms behind you. You hear the BZZZZZ immediately after.

“Thanks. Ok now, tell me where you hid it. Or I’ll be forced to use harsher methods.” He rubs the vibrator along your most sensitive spot. It feels amazing.

Moaning, you say, “Never.”

“Oh really?” He turns off the vibrator. You hear the buzzing stop and try to look behind you but you can’t see anything.

Spencer’s hands go up your waist and he starts tickling you. Your weakness. You scream-laugh.

“OH MY GOD AHAHAHAH!! SPENCER NO!”

“Tell me.” He says firmly.

“OK FINE ITS IN THE MEDICINE CABINET!!HAHAHAHAHA BEHIND YOUR EYE DROPS!!”

“Thank you.” He picks you up brings you to the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and leaves you there with the vibrator pressed against you.

He comes back holding the key. You think he’s going to uncuff you so you try to lift your hands.

He walks closer to you until his crotch is near your face. He runs his hand along your hair and says,“Oh I’m not done with you yet sweetheart. We’re just getting started!”

writing this had me 😫💗

this is probably the most sexy time i’ve ever written so hopefully it’s alright for like the first one

literally wrote this in like 20 minutes. how?!

hope anyone who reads this enjoys!! I love feedback!! 💗💗

tags/

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

(if anyone else would like to be tagged in future works don’t hesitate to lmk!)

[rogueddie]

Warmth and Safety T | 808 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

Steve knows he should be in his own hospital room. Not only so other people can visit too, but because of how his head spins as he struggles to walk down the corridor.

The white walls are too clinical, too metalic. They look nothing like the Russians underground lair, but mixed with the sharp stench of bleach and medicine? It's mixing into a cruel cocktail that has his instincts screaming for Robin.

He pushes forward, gritting his teeth and- trying- to ignore the memories trying to haunt him.

"Steve," Eddie greets, when he finally makes it through the door into his room, sounding exhausted. "What the hell, man?"

"I'm fine," Steve lies, hating how breathless he sounds. He sags into the chair next to Eddies bed, grimacing. "Just need a minute... catch my breath. There's, like, so many stairs."

Eddie is silent for a long moment, but Steve can feel his eyes boring into his head.

"What?"

"Wh- you shouldn't be here, man!" Eddie says. He sounds too exhausted for the stern tone to have any effect. "The nurses have told you already. You need to heal. You can't do that if you're dragging yourself around to... I don't know, check on us?"

"I need to make sure you're ok."

"We're in a hospital. We're as ok as we can get."

"I get that, but..."

The clock chimes, the earth rumbling as the town reads apart, Dustin's screams...

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand, alright? But you need to cut this shit out."

"I can't."

"Steve-"

"I need to know that you're alive. I need to know. It's not enough to hear that you're ok, I need to see it. I need to, Eds."

"Jesus Christ," he throws his head back, sighing heavy and dramatically.

But then he lifts his head, smirking a little as he opens an arm out towards him, beckoning him closer.

"Come here, big boy, let me give you a hug."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he does as he told, standing up so he was shuffle to the bed.

"You don't have to say it all creepy, man, you'll give me ideas."

"Promise?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. But his playfulness quickly morphs into exasperation again when he huffs out, "just sit down, Steve, come on, come here."

It takes a lot of gesturing and, eventually, slight man handling, but eventually Eddie gets Steve to lay down next to him. He tugs Steve's head down so his ear is resting on his chest and, with some hesitation, he curls an arm around Eddie's waist.

He can feel his heartbeat, thumping against his ear, matching the beeping of the monitor.

"There," Eddie mumbles, brushing his fingers down Steve's spine. "Better, right?"

"... yeah."

His heart is pounding, almost as much as Eddie's is. It's only a little reassuring that Eddie is just as nervous as him- he can only hope it's for the same reason.

"You need to take care of yourself too," Eddie continues. "Who's gonna run around after those brats of you don't heal right? Me? I'm a bad influence, Stevie, you know I'll make 'em worse."

"You'd do great, they love you."

"Noooo," he squeezes Steve a little tighter, whining as high as he can get his voice to go. "Please, I'm begging, I'll go insane if I have to deal with them alone!"

"Now you know how I feel."

"God, I wish I didn't," Eddie sighs, turning serious again so fast that Steve feels like he's getting whiplash. "This whole thing is fucked. Those kids are only, like, fifteen."

Steve hesitates for a moment, before whispering, "I was sixteen, when this all started. Back in 83.x

"Jesus."

"Yeah, it's... I don't know. Like, I know it's horrible, but I like it when it's like this. Everyone in one place, knowing that there's doctors and shit nearby."

"That's not horrible. You know they're being cared for."

"Yeah, but it's worse this time. Like... I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and we won't have made it. This will be some stupid dream and you and Max..."

"We're still here," Eddie brings a hand up to his head, brushing his hair back. "You can feel it, right? I'm right here. We're not going anywhere."

Steve nods, closing his eyes so he can focus on Eddie's heartbeat.

"You know I love seeing you, right? Just... at least get a wheelchair or something. Please?"

Something is his chest cracks at how Eddie's voice breaks, how pained and desperate he sounds.

"Ok. I can do a wheelchair."

"Good. You start taking care of yourself and we can do this everyday."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, hand finally coming to a stop, cupping his cheek. "Yeah, I promise. Whenever and for however long you need. I'll be right here."

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

i literally spend at least 2 hours a week just looking at various pictures of the terracotta army. utterly entranced. look at the details in the hair. you'd never see ANY of this when they're lined up in formation, but they're there.  

theres about 8000 of these guys down there, no two faces are alike. they're works of art. they're the manifestation of a cruel despot's delusions of grandeur. a talisman against the terrible inevitability of death, both pathetic and strangely pitiful. like watching a child clinging to his blanket, begging you not to turn off the light. they were a bunch of insignificant clay statues from a side chamber that was so small and unremarkable, no one bothered to write down the location. they were modelled after real people. their only purpose was to serve qin shi huang in the afterlife, so he could reign in heaven as he did on earth. now the emperor is just a ghost and his pawns are immortal. my dad and i visited them in the dead of winter, on a weekday, just so we wouldn't have to deal with tourists like us. the place had easily 500 people--not including the ones below ground. we traveled to xian via the old "green skin" diesel train. there are faster means, like highspeed rail but dad insisted i try the authentic way, the same way he would have traveled when he was my age it was also like, a quarter of the price but im sure that had nothing to do with it! back in the 80s carriages would get so packed people had to have their luggage passed in via the windows. as we chugged along, i read my book and my dad made us cup noodles. car is just a shortened version of "carriage", the word is the same but the mechanism is different. it's the same in chinese. i think if i told someone from the warring states period i could travel from the Kingdom of Qi to Qin in just four hours with my metal carriage, i'd be laughed out of town--or accused of being a spy and sentenced to 'death by carriage.' we hopped off the train at 4am and took a different "carriage." the taxi driver joked; "basically every dynasty put their capital in xian, stick a shovel anywhere and you'll turn up some national treasure or another." i wonder what it would have felt like to be a farmer digging a well and then out pops a remarkably realistic human head. statistical analysis show the soldier's faces bear a strong similarity to people living in the region today. the taxi stopped in front of a jewellery-hawking tourist trap and refused budge an inch until we went inside. did you know the terracotta soldiers were originally multi-coloured and painfully gaudy, just like the greek marbles? they were made assembly-line style. the arms and legs were made from the same workshops that made clay plumbing pipes and roof tiles. for quality control, the artisans were required to stamp their names. the workers who built these tombs were executed shortly afterwards, because only dead men can be trusted with secrets. qin shi huang's mausoleum is unlikely to be excavated in my father's lifetime, or mine, not unless i'm willing to take a BIG ONE for the team... instead of the tomb, they built some kind of qin shi huang-themed theme park next to it. not only was it tacky as hell the entrance fee was like $50. we went to the museum and i looked at bronze tools and pottery shards for three hours. look why can't we just crack the thing open i can't be the only one here whos dying from curiosity what if we all just took turns digging

[writerwrabbleswords]

The worst | [Worst] Wolverine/Logan X [Male Iron Man variant] Reader

Logan hates the void, but he hates it a little less after he meets a bearable Tony Stark - except you aren't exactly a Tony Stark he recognizes.

Quick Notes : I haven't actually written for Logan before, but I'm obsessed after Deadpool and Wolverine so... Here we go. I might write a part two, but I'm not sure yet.

Story Details : Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, Reader is male but referred to with 'You/Your' pronouns, about 800 or so words, light angst, Logan drinking (obviously), cliffhanger ending.

  Logan disliked the void; he disliked it nearly as much as he disliked Wade, which was a lot. Through the entire thing - the fight in the damn honda odyssey, getting the hell away from Cassandra, even getting brought to the resistance hideout - the only thing he wanted to do was down a few bottles of booze and crash for the night. The conversation he’d had with Laura made him feel… odd. It was hard to explain, and Logan wasn’t exactly known for being ‘in touch’ with his feelings. Hell, he preferred to drown them in alcohol over talking about them or even feeling them. 

  The mutant was drawn from his thoughts (and the bottle in his hand) when the door to the resistance opened, your form entering the hideout. He felt his nose scrunch - the stranger smelled like rust and metal, an unpleasant combination. You looked up from something in your hand, glancing at Logan before giving a curt nod and moving towards the nearby table. It was then that he caught sight of a slight blue glow just peeking out from overtop your undone top buttons; an arc reactor. Logan grit his teeth, tearing his eyes away as he downed half the bottle - of course he’d have to deal with a damn Tony Stark variant, it couldn’t have been that Wade was awake, it had to be him.

 A grunt from you pulled his attention back towards you, his gaze soon affixing to what was in your hand - or more accurately, on your arm. It was a repulsor gauntlet, probably part of a full suit if he had to guess, with the paint faded and scratched. With only a glance, he had a feeling you’d been here a long while. 

  “You’re the first Wolverine I’ve seen here,”

  Your voice cut through Logans’ thoughts, and he couldn’t help the bitter scoff that left him - of course you’d know who he was. Shaking his head, he approached your spot at the table, taking a seat across from you as he watched. You were fiddling with your repulsor gauntlet, the screwdriver in your hand digging between the metal plates as you scowled. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with you. Huh. It was then that he fully took in your form - really looked - and noticed that you weren’t quite the Tony Stark he was used to; you didn’t even look like a Tony Stark.

  “You gonna’ tell me how you got here, or are you gonna’ keep staring at me while I work?”

  Logan huffed at your question, bringing the bottle of booze to his lips as he regarded you. He didn’t particularly want to talk - especially to a damn Iron Man - but he relented, the alcohol flowing through his system loosening his tongue.

  “The jackass known as Wade got us both stuck here,” you paused at his words, arching a brow as Logan took a swig, “He pulled me from my universe to try and save his.”

  He could tell something about his words had struck a nerve because the moment he mentioned his own universe, you all but glared down at your gauntlet, your movements with the screwdriver less controlled and precise.

  “Least you’ll get a chance to leave,” came your bitter words.

  It was now the mutants’ turn to raise a brow, his eyes watching you - analyzing you - for any sign of what set you off. He looked away, tipping the bottle of alcohol back as the liquor slid down his throat.

  “You been stuck here a while?” Logan found himself asking, surprising both you and himself.

  Even more surprising, you looked up from your gauntlet and nodded, your expression softening as you tossed the screwdriver onto the table and sighed,

  “Been here longer than most. Had the TVA approach me to join the fuckin’ ‘sacred timeline’ or whatever, and when I turned it down - tried to warn the Avengers - they sent me here. I got every one of my mates killed.” Logan frowned, but didn’t interrupt. Even to him, it was clear you didn’t often talk about your past, “Cassandra’s been tryin’ to get me on her side for ages now, but I refuse. I’m a genius, not a fuckin’ lap dog for some deranged bitch.”

  That got a bark of laughter from the mutant, who shook his head in amusement; you had the signature ‘Tony Stark’ cockiness, arrogance might have been a better word, but you seemed more down to earth than the one he’d known of back in his universe. You seemed to have a shadow following you, something hidden to everyone that kept you locket away; it was something he could relate to.

  “You got a name they call you?” Logan asked, taking another swig from his pilfered bottle of alcohol.

  You hummed, returning your focus to your repulsor gauntlet as you picked up the screwdriver once more,   “I’m the worst Iron Man.”

[notlhecxzsa]

It Still Hurts Underneath My Scars - N.R

Summary: Natasha was supposed to go home, but what happens when she unveils something—hidden deep beneath those smiles, making her also run right back to the past. Will this turn out well for both of them?

Author's Note: Ahhh this is a hot 4k+ word and just like what I said, here comes all the angst I could give the world.

Warning: Yelling, broken glasses, cursing, so mean!natasha, crying, blood, injuries, bruises, trauma, poor sad baby Y/n (she deserves every good thing in the world, yes.) Tell me if I missed something!

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3rd Person's POV:

Natasha woke up at the faint sound of metal clashing onto the ground, with eyes snapping open and body sitting up straight immediately she quickly withdrew a gun inside the small table beside her bed. With steps cautious and quick, she approached the door and quietly opened it. As another clanking of two or more heavy material, she approached the kitchen where the sounds are coming from.

Maybe, it was coincidental or maybe the time is just in the mood for games that Natasha was not prepared for. With her gun pointed to the culprit of the sound, it was faced directly to the younger one's figure, if she was to pull the trigger she would hit bullseye, that's for sure.

With 2 pairs of wide eyes, one with shock and the other with a noticeable fear, Natasha pulled down her gun, her facade straightening up while Y/n stayed staring. The tremble of her chest as she took deep breaths—too deep breaths for Natasha's liking can be noticed from afar.

"What the hell are you doing? I thought someone had broken in." She did not intend for it to come out so harshly, but the unsettling feeling in her chest is just so hard to ignore. What even is it? Fear? Anger?... Worry?

She walked towards the counter, putting down the gun as she watched as the gaze of the small girl seemed stuck with a glue on it. She didn't know what pushed her to hide it away, putting it on her waist, tucking it in on her pants, away from eyes that seemed to be going through a thousand miles.

There was a moment of silence, Natasha almost felt the unsettling rumble in her stomach overtake her being. So, she decided to speak up once again, "I asked you a question." Rounding up the counter to get a glass of water, she saw just how much mess has been made.

A broken mug with spilled coffee, clattered empty pot and a pan, there's also some water splattered around the girl's feet. A deep frown settled on her face as she looked up once again to gaze at Y/n's face, trying to search for her eyes but found nothing when she saw that she was looking down.

"I-... I di-... I'm so- I'm so sorry... I don't- I didn't mean to... W-Wait..." Crouching she immediately touched the pot and the pan, one hand each. And each hand, Natasha could visibly see how much it trembled, the pump of her chest now more seen by the naked eyes.

As the young woman moved around, giving Natasha a glimpse of the distressed face she was wearing. This is the first time that Natasha had seen her with that kind of expression, in this type of condition, but she was stuck on her own feet as she watched.

She watched as she picked the shards of sharp glass off of the floor with her bare hands, making Natasha's eyes widen in fear as the worry in her chest grew, now having a clear understanding she was feeling.

"Wait! Stop that." Launching forward, she took a hold of both of the thin arms that are covered with sleeves, one of the many long sleeves that Y/m wears.

As soon as her hands got in contact with Y/n's forearm and and upper arms, Natasha pulled her upwards. With a force applied and the grip she that the older woman has on her, Y/n's face scrunched bitterly as she yelped. Her hands flapped up and tried to pull her body away from Natasha.

"Ah!" It went unnoticed by Natasha who seemed to be in trance, getting Y/n out of the surrounded glasses. "N-Natasha..." Tears pricked her eyes as she looked up, her body being manhandled away from the scene while Natasha's gaze was stuck on the ground, observing the trail of glasses, water and coffee in order to get the younger woman in her arms to safety.

Biting her lips, tears swam around her eyes before it ran down on her cheeks. "Are you an idiot? You can't fucking pick up those glass with your hands! You will hurt yourself. Are you even thinking?" Blurting out words she didn't think of, words out of the raging storm in her mind, blinding her from the way Y/n kept flinching on her grip.

Y/n could feel a faint taste of rusty blood on her lips with how much she's biting down so hard in it. Her whimpers drowned out by the scolding she's receiving as the hold reminded her of something familiar.

Soon enough she was settled down beside the counter, far from the chaos and mess she made. Her form trembled as her breathing became ragged. Her arms ached, she could feel the blood rushing inside the bruises that littered around her body. She couldn't even find enough courage to move and help Natasha out who swept the glass and wiped the substance on the floor.

She's supposed to clean that up! She messed up so bad, and she knows it. The aching arms are quickly forgotten when fear starts to overcome her mind, spreading like a poison ivy. With tears flooding her cheeks, she bent down and started picking the broken glass that was near her, flinching when it cut right through her skin.

"Y/n!" Natasha watched as the young woman continuesly pick up the glasses with trembling hands. One hand kept picking it all up while the other holds the shard of glasses—she wasn't holding it, she was gripping it. "Hey! Y/n!" Stepping forward, she took a hold of the petite body once again, never missing how it tensed under her touch, making her almost pull away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, don't- don't hurt- No, no, no..." Natasha heard the whispers that came out of her mouth, making her frown go deeper as she pulled them up together. She felt Y/n trying to pull her arms away, so she gripped tighter. "No!" It came out meekly, a small high pitched voice.

"Hey..." That must have been the softest voice that came out of Natasha ever in her life. Finally realized just how much mess and chaos has been done, not just in her kitchen floor, but to Y/n. "Hey, hey, hey..." She walked the two of them towards the other side of the kitchen island, her grip softening as one of her hand snaked around Y/n's waist.

"Please... don't hurt me... I'll clean it up... good- I'll be good." At the sound of her voice, Natasha could feel her knees weakening for unknown reason.

"What?- I- I won't hurt you." Analyzing the angelic face of Y/n, she couldn't help but notice the distant gaze she has and seemingly to in some kind of trance.

Looking down, she caught the sight of Y/n's shaking hardened fist, then up to her chest that jumps up and down hysterically, just then she noticed how ragged her breath is. "Hey, breath. It's okay, it's all fine..." Her hands seemed to have its own brain as it automatically cups her cheeks, trying to trap her gaze into hers. "Y/n, detka, hey, I'm not mad, it's okay. The mess is cleaned up already, hey..." Seeing the irises of her eyes moving side by side hysterically, Natasha realized that she can't see clearly, along with the tears in her eyes.

With her vision unfocused, her ears only ringing, Y/n could feel her blood running cold as she tried to catch her breath. There was a pressure on both of her face but she couldn't feel it properly, she doesn't know what it is. God, she can't have another meltdown here, not when she's just new here. Natasha might think of her weirdly, she might even get more angry.

"Hey, Nat?- What-" Natasha's head whipped around to see Maria standing by the kitchen hallway. Was she that too caught up with the girl in front of her that she did not notice the other presence breaking inside of her penthouse? No, she couldn't be. "What happened?" With worry evident in her voice, Maria rushed to their side, her hand reaching out to touch Y/n's lower back.

Natasha has her locked up in her arms, so Maria couldn't really do anything much. With both of Natasha's hand caging Y/n's small body, she pulled her in even more. There was a sudden click inside her that made her pull her in, she doesn't know if it was because of the worry i side of her growing or maybe the way Maria had reached out for her girl.

"Maria, get the aid kit inside the bathroom. Also get some towel and a bowl of water." Natasha's voice commanded before bending down to pick up the girl in her arms bride style, realizing that she wouldn't be walking.

Maria immediately ran to get what was needed, looking down at the mess that was made on the kitchen floor, she frowned and started pondering or what had happened. Then suddenly, flashes of the bruises she saw on Y/n's arms blinded her thoughts, clenching her jaw she imagined the worse.

The was Natasha was gripping her, holding her tightly did not sit right as she thought of it right now. The way she overtowered the small girl as Y/n trembled in fear. Fuck, Natasha couldn't be...

"Hey, let me get that..." As soon as she set Y/n down on the couch, she take a hold of her fisted hand that is still holding the pieces of sharp glass tightly.

Holding it gently in her hands, she caught a glimpse of something as the sleeves of Y/n's clothing hike up. Frowning, she reached forward and pull it up even more out of curiosity. Blood drained her face as the bruises that littered around it became visible in her eyes. Her hold on her earlier couldn't have done that, no. It is clear that it is made days or weeks ago.

Averting her focus back on getting the glasses out of Y/n's hands, she felt her heart started to pump faster. She hated it. She shouldn't be feeling like this, no, she can't feel like this.

"Here..." Without looking up, she took the kit from the hands of her friend and started tending on Y/n's hand, now in complete silence as her mind ran miles.

What is there that she still doesn't know?

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Maria's POV:

"You're still here." I turned to see Natasha walking towards the railing of her balcony, gazing towards the scenery in front of us, not bothering to throw me even just a glance.

I looked back to where I was staring, inhaling a pound of air before letting it all out. "Your actions opposes the assumptions I have in my mind." I started, just then, I felt her eyes burning holes on the side of my head. "You're not..." I gulped down an invisible ball of saliva in my throat. "You're not the one who did those to her, did you, Natasha?" Catching her eyes, a frown started forming her face before her stance became tensed.

A reaction I knew all too well. But, not what I expected to receive with this topic.

"What?" She asked and I could hear the pure confusion lacing through her voice. A sound that demands an immediate and straight answer. I looked away and started answering.

"The last time I was here. I saw her arms. Beaten. Raw. I'm starting to thinking it's all over her body, I also... thought that it was you." I looked back to her face when I saw it snapped to look inside the penthouse. A faint glitch in her facade that she only wore when we thought her father had found out about her hidden treasures. Fear. Worry. "After earlier, I saw... I saw how you cared for her, Natasha-" I almost jumped at the sound of her voice.

"I didn't." I shook my head and chuckled lowly, bending down and putting both of my elbows on the railing. How I could see right through her.

"I wouldn't blame you for starting to feel like this. I watched you, Natasha." Turning only my head to look at her, a knowing glint shining in my eyes as her gaze locked in mine. Showing her that I know, and she doesn't have to hide it.

No matter how much she wants to, no matter how much she needs to. No matter how much she will deny.

"Just like how you watch her."

I waited... and waited. But, a response never came. Sighing, I stood up straight. Turning my whole body towards the sliding door but made no move to approach it. "I care for her..." I started, once again. "Not the way you do, of course." Just then, it all came down to me just how much I got so attached to this girl, how much her attentiveness and hospitality had made my heart moved like no one. Clint's right, we're all really getting soft because of her. "She's a sister I have never had. Tell me what you want me to do, I will help you. I will bring what you need, and I will come wherever you want me to be."

Still, I was met with silence. Clearing my throat before sighing, I started walking towards the door.

"Hill." Now, that's what I was looking for.

Looking back, I catch the fire in her eyes even though her face is stone cold. I knew by then, it will catch up to those who have sinned.

"I want everything." She said in a monotone, with her jaw clenched, she turned around and I was faced with her back.

I nodded, even though she couldn't and wouldn't see me. "You got it, boss." I said before stepping inside the penthouse, my eyes immediately locking in on the figure that is sat on the farthest edge of the couch, as if it will ground her—protect her from everything.

I analyze her body for a minute, she doesn't have her socks on as usual, making me catch a glimpse of a faint bruise that is long but not deep from what it looks like. Taking a deep breath, I decided to go, taking a last look on her face, staring into nothingness with seemingly no thoughts behind her eyes.

God knows what is unleashed.

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(Flashbacks) 3rd Person's POV:

A giggled escaped the 13 year old girl as she read a book that was given to her by Lucille. Something funny had happened on the character that made her stomach tingle and let out a giggle, unaware of the pair of eyes that is burning holes in the whole of her body.

Just as she let out another giggle, the sound of a gun booming that is all to familiar to her ears went off, making her jump with no sound escaping her lips. Just like what Lucille had thought her, no noise means less hits. As her heart raised, beating faster, she stood up, leaving the book on where she was sitting, with a promise to get it back later before running off inside the huge mansion.

The same pair of eyes followed her, a knowing glint of who she was, the same pair of eyes that studied her dull life but found it the most interesting. Walking towards the huge tree, under the shade of it is where she took the book. Knowing that her Dad is enjoying his time with their family's friend, she knew they wouldn't even notice that she's gone, too busy playing with different guns.

She studied the surroundings and did not wonder just how much Y/n loves it here. She remembered the time she met Y/n here, she remembered that the young girl was still 3, munching on a cookie that looks like she will be killed if she was found eating it.

"Hey..." An 8 year old Natasha spoke, a certain softness present in her voice.

The little one jumped, dropping the cookies as she did so. Those cute chubby cheeks with some crumbles of cookies made Natasha want to pinch it. She looks angelic, Natasha wondered if maybe, they do hide angels around here because she certainly just met one.

"I not eat the tookies!" The visible lisp came out, making a smile break through Natasha's face. With those frowning small eyebrows, Natasha could feel her stomach doing flips because of the cuteness.

"But, you did." Natasha started, smiling teasingly as she walked closer. "And you have cookies all over your face." Natasha explained, her hands going to her hips, just like what she sees on her father.

"I didn't..." Smearing her small hands on her face didn't do her any good, as now her face is more covered in crumbles and a faint chocolates here and there. "See? You ate the tookies! Maybe..." A laugh broke from Natasha, even as a mere child, she's never the one to laugh a lot. Hearing the unbelievable assumption that has been made towards her made her surrender in defeat—once again, something she does not usually do.

"Okay, then. Whatever you say... cookie monster." She said before she saw Y/n smile—a name she discovered from her parents. "Would you like to play?" She asked, observing how Y/n looked down at the cookies that fell earlier with somber eyes.

Natasha felt bad, knowing that she accidentally scared her and now she doesn't have anything to eat. "No, Lutcy will be mad if I get dirty. I won't get more tookies." She explained, and Natasha smiled.

As if she didn't eat one already.

"I'll give you more cookies! We have so many at home." Natasha said, making the small girl snap her head up at her.

"Weally?" A toothy grin made its way on her face, making Natasha smile unconsciously and nodded. "Otay, but- but we gotta make- we gotta bring Tammy along with us... he gets very lonely." The small girl almost scream in excitement, Natasha only nodded before she followed the little one.

Following the 13 year old girl, her steps in track and with a certain speed to catch up. There were a couple of turns until she was met with the end of a hallway. Clutching the book in hand she approached the slightly ajar door.

She stood there, frowning when she tried to listen to the other side of it and was met with silence. She was sure Y/n had ran in here, catching a glimpse of her hair as she went running inside. Her hands reach out to knock, but then again was met with nothing, only a faint shuffling that reassured her someone was inside.

Breathing deeply, she push the door, it was a tight space, a storage room, yet it is clean. As soon as the door is wide enough, she saw the trembling form of a girl. She observed how her shoulder heavied with each breath she took.

"Were you scared?..." Natasha started, gazing at the way the younger one's head popped up to look at who followed her. "By the guns, I mean." Natasha noticed how tears are brimming up in her eyes—those same eyes she never once forgot.

The same ones that haunted her in her sleep.

Receiving no response, she took a step forward before crouching in front of the girl. "You left this." She raised her hand and offered her the book, which was immediately taken by the girl. Just then, Natasha noticed the gauze wrapped up around her arm, more bruises surrounding it that is mixed of color green and purple.

Frowning, she looked at the girl's eyes, only to find it gazing at the book, avoiding her look. "What happened to you?" She could remember those other times she met the girl, the same color littering her body, the same condition designed her skin.

Finally, their eyes met, but only a shake of a head is what she received as another faint gun shot rang in the atmosphere making the girl jump from where she was sitting and pushed herself further on the wall. Natasha, without flinching, as if the sound puts her to sleep at night, turned her body and pushed the door close.

Turning back, she sat on the floor, offering a small smile. "Don't worry, you won't get hurt." Noticing the way Y/n's eyes kept looking back at her and the door. "You won't hear it anymore. If you still do, you just go like this..." Putting her hands on both of her ears, Natasha simulated what should be done.

Only gazing at the red head, Y/n felt a certain familiarity with her face. She was the kid of those friends of her parents that would come and go here. But, still, shying away from the girl in front of her, Y/n knew very little of socializing—experiencing it scarcely.

Seeing uncertainty swimming around the doe eyed gaze of the younger girl in front of her, Natasha went forward, putting her own hand on Y/n's ears that are covered by her hair. With the space between them almost closed, Natasha could finally analyze the face that kept chasing her waking hours.

Natasha does find her beautiful—ethereal even, but she has no explanation as to why she feels this way—remembering the young one this way.

"Do you hear anything?" Natasha felt the shake of her head, their eyes staying lock in each other's. "That's good..." Natasha said before pulling away and going back to sit on the floor, now with a much more closer distance with the girl.

It was like a magnetic pull that keep wanting her to get closer and closer. She doesn't know what it is, yet she did not fight against it. It feels just right.

"Are you going to stay here?" Natasha asked, the girl did not answer, only keep looking at Natasha now with eyes full of curiosity and familiarity. "We can stay here—I can stay here with you." Natasha said, before her eyes dropped down to look at the movement of the girl's lips. She's smiling, Natasha thought, but only a little.

In the moment, both of their hearts grew, sitting in silence, hidden from the world that is destined to break and make them.

(End of Flashback)

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Natasha's POV:

I stood in the kitchen, looking over at the girl that is sat in the living room. I opened the television when I went inside from the balcony, seeing how eerily quiet here—the same noise the surrounded the atmosphere before Y/n started living here.

I was supposed to leave and go to the manor today, but something just keeps me from going. Something is grounding me from walking right through the door and get back with my life.

"What did you want to say? Make sure to not waste my time." I sneered at Yelena as we stood in the building's parking lot.

"Father's plans changed—I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Gazing straight into my sister's eyes, I knew she wouldn't keep something from me. "I though I should let you know." Crossing my hands, I gave her my full attention.

"The wedding's not gonna happen..." I frowned, my insides shaking with something I can't put a finger to. Searching for any lies in her eyes, she explained further, "But, everything is still going. The marriage..." My shoulder visibly relaxed, I doubt that she did not notice it, seeing the way her eyes went on my sides, a knowing glint in her eyes as it reach my gaze. "... it's all settled in the paper..." She trailed off.

"Hmm?" I raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

"Papa discussed something with Y/n's parents, I didn't hear much but what I know is that after everything, they will be cutting Y/n off of their will... you will have it all." My frown deepened, my chest tightening with something I can't name.

"What the hell do you mean about that? What? Are they going to just throw her away like she's not their daughter?" I blurted out, Yelena's lips turned up a little—damn it, Natasha, get your shit together.

"She's just simply the paper in between their business, Natasha. After the marriage, you and I both know she's nothing to father..." She started. "...and to her parents... I don't really know, but that is the only thing I've heard. After that, I think it's up to you whatever happens to her... she'll be your wife...on paper, at least." She searched for something in my eyes, something I'm unsure of.

I have never felt so out of control. I couldn't control the thoughts and feelings circling around my insides. I couldn't even begin to figure it out.

"And you and I both know she means nothing to you..." She started, making my eyes dart straight into her eyes.

My face hardened, not letting her show a bit of emotion.

"Isn't that right?..." She asked, and I could tell the slightly visible teasing tone lacing through her voice. "Natalia?-"

"Shut the fuck up before I make you." Surging forward, I pushed her, making her tumble, if it weren't for the car behind her she would've fly down to the floor.

She chuckled lowly. "I still haven't met my future sister-in-law, when can I visit her-" My hand immediately reach out roughly and punch her on the cheek, making her tumble on the side.

"I won't let her near you—all of you." I gritted through my teeth. She knew about it. She's hitting all of my soft spot, and she might be the one whom I call my best friend before, telling her everything, but not anymore.

Not after she chose to stay with our parents when I offered her the chance to run away with me and build a new life.

"Even after all these years, Nat?" She asked, looking to side as if her face got locked after I punched her.

My eyes lit fires as I burn holes on the side of her head. My fist clenching on my side as I fought the urge to kill her right there and then.

"I don't wanna see your face here."

But, how can I leave when I finally have what I've yearned for all those years. I didn't even ask for it, didn't work for it yet it came down falling into my lap.

As I continued gazing at her, for once in my life, fear started to creep up. Fear of the unknown, where will this lead me? Weakness is something so foreign to me, just like how love and care is, but taking in what Maria had said earlier.

I did care.

But, not for anyone.

Only for her.

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Author's Note: Finallyyyy, ahhhh, everything in my mind is falling into place. Hope you enjoyed this one! More angtyness coming your way, darlings (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[pedrito-friskito]

// track 9 - the prophecy //

-> can I write a fic about din djarin without piling on the exposition? absolutely not. also bonus, this is my submission/entry/funtime for @prolix-yuy’s #bangathon2024! the wheel bestowed upon me the placid embrace, and I embraced the HELL out of it. fair warning this is unedited, I’m squeaking under the bangathon deadline here, but I had an idea and I ran with it! hope y’all enjoy 🤍

word count: 8.4k

warnings: canon-typical violence (a bit bloodier), possibly slightly OOC din djarin, descriptions of female body, unprotected p-in-v (wrap your shit in space too ok), din has a lot of feelings and has zero idea what they mean, the helmet comes off, reader is a seer/has visions, still not sure if I love the ending but here goes nothing!

He just can’t seem to catch a break.

“I don’t have the parts,” the smith is telling him, looking at Din’s broken vambrace with a pinched brow. “I can order ‘em in, but it’ll take a day or so to get ‘em here, another day or two to fix it. You gonna be here in four days?”

He takes the hunk of metal back, sliding his hand through the opening with a shake of his helmet, securing it back around his wrist. “Thank you for your time.”

The market is bustling with people. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he was on Batuu, but Black Spire Outpost is the same as it was the last time he touched the Crest down for repairs and refuelling. Except this time, there’s a tracking fob at his hip, a puck detailing his current bounty tucked into one of the pockets on his belt. The fob has been beeping slowly since he disembarked at the port, reluctantly paying the obscene amount of credits it cost to leave his ship for a day.

Not that it matters — the amount he’ll make on this job more than covers it. Two times over and then some. Once he delivers, he can go back to Nevarro, get his armour fixed, and onto the next one. The cycle continues, such is the life of a bounty hunter.

It’s not the life he would have picked for himself, he muses as he makes his way through the Outpost. But then, he wonders how many people in this galaxy have the lives they would have chosen, given the chance. Even the one he’s hunting.

Especially the one he’s hunting.

Din had been half-listening to Karga’s regular spiel about the bounty, but his ears perked up at the number of credits waiting for him at the finish line. “The ones who ordered the bounty, what planet are they from?”

“Savareen,” Karga had replied with a slight shudder. “Some backwater place on the Kessel Run. Don’t know how this coven got their hands on enough credits for something like this, but I know better than to ask questions. And the bounty isn’t on Savareen. She escaped and made it to Batuu somehow; I’m fuzzy on the details. All I know is the intel we have has her there still, and she killed both the fighters the witches sent after her. Feisty thing.”

“They didn’t give you anything else?”

“Only that she’s very valuable and they need her back before the next full moon.”

He’d slid the bounty puck across the table to Din then, the hologram flickering to life as he did. The face before him was too young, too innocent. You’d killed two fighters? Looking at you, Din wondered if you knew which end of the blaster to hold. But he held his tongue; he’d judged other bounties too quickly in the past, and had the scars to prove it.

Continuing through Black Spire, Din keeps his head down, but his eyes peeled. The fob is still beeping slowly, but as he turns down an alley, away from the busy market, the noise picks up. He keeps going, coming to a stop ahead of a small group of people. He lingers back, not making himself obvious as he observes. 

An elderly man with a thick beard stares up at the sky, murmuring under his breath while two younger people seem to hang on his every word, holding his arms up for him. More people sit on the ground before the man, all staring at him intently.

The cloaked figure hanging at the edge of the group, hood obscuring their face, catches his attention. Their stance is tight, nervous, feet shuffling in the dirt with every word the elderly man says. To an untrained eye, they would look no different than Din himself, observing the group, lingering at the edge. But Din knows better.

The figure takes off as he takes a single step forward, hand resting on his blaster. In a flutter of dark fabric, he takes off after them, dodging the enthralled people on the ground, careful not to knock anyone over as he darts up the alleyway.

The fob is beeping rapidly now, quickening with every inch he gains on the cloaked figure, on you.

He grunts beneath his helmet, arms pumping as he runs, legs burning with exertion. He can’t remember the last time he sprinted after a bounty.

You’re relentless, taking hard lefts and rights any chance you get, but your scared movements are predictable, and Din finds it too easy to follow you, despite his racing heart and the sweat gathering on the back of his neck beneath his helmet. But your constant turning leads the chase back into the heart of the Outpost, and you’re moving too fast to stop from sliding into the large cart that pulls out suddenly into your path.

Din winces at the crash, your body crumpling to the ground and the cart’s contents pouring over your head. The merchant pushing the cart tries to help you up, but Din is quicker, hiding his heaving chest by straightening his shoulders, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” the merchant starts, and Din lifts a hand, silencing him as he pulls a set of cuffs from his belt and slaps one around your wrist. You don’t fight him, surprisingly, offering your other wrist for him to clasp the cuff around. He’s grateful you can’t see his expression, the mix of confusion and surprise that has his brows shooting up beneath the helmet.

Strange.

He flicks the merchant a credit. “Did half the job for me,” he says, and grabs you by the shoulder, maneuvering around the stalled cart and back in the direction of the Razor Crest.

You don’t protest, keeping pace beside him, the corner of your mouth twitching as you walk. “You took longer than I thought you would, Mandalorian.”

+

The visions started when you were small.

They’ve always been a part of you, long as you can remember, and before you knew their true purpose, you thought them dreams, blips of darkness that occasionally came to call, taking you over and leaving you with knowledge that, most of the time, you didn’t want.

You were only seven when your family gave you to the coven. Your parents — scared of you, scared of the truths that spilled from your lips, truths you had no right knowing — sent you off without a second thought, assured by the coven’s leader that they would do right by you, that you’d grow to control your gifts, and could someday return home to Naboo a different girl. 

But the control never came. The visions only grew more sporadic when you were under the coven’s care. They cared for you, that much was true — they fed and clothed you, gave you a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in. Someone watched you constantly, and anytime a vision struck, you were to immediately relay what you saw, provide as many details as you could, and on life would go.

Twenty years later, and still your control has not surfaced. But something changed.

The visions showed you the truth. You don’t know what gods are watching over you, if the Maker has any hand in it, but you know what you saw.

From the moment you had been handed over to the coven’s care, they had been poisoning you. Your drinking water sullied with a rare toxin from plants only native to Savareen. The toxin blocked out any control you might have over the visions, leaving you at their mercy. And you weren’t the first — they’d done it to a hundred seers before you. You just happened to have lasted the longest.

Anything you saw that was of use, names you couldn’t make sense of or planets you’d never been to, was cross-referenced across the coven’s expansive database of knowledge, created by the seers’ visions. And anything of true import was fed directly to the Empire. 

And if you revealed what you knew, the truth of their game unraveled, they’d sacrifice you in the name of their god, as they had with every seer come before you.

When the vision finally released you, your warden of the day ready to record what you’d seen, you spat out a lie. A pretty one, with as much detail as you could muster that wouldn’t sound suspicious. The lakes on Naboo you once swam in, cool water warmed by the sun, the glint of sunlight off metal. A dream you’d had many times. Your warden seemed to believe it, scribbling away in a journal before sending you on your way. 

It was obvious, what needed to be done. If you wanted to live, you needed to leave.

Easier said than done, unfortunately. The coven lived in a commune deep in the Savareen forests. Far from any marketplaces or spaceports. You would be travelling for days just to get away from them, and days longer until you came upon anything of use.

So it became a process — quietly gathering what supplies you could, explaining it away when your warden questioned you, sneaking around in the night while the coven slept. The first time an opportunity presented itself, you grabbed your things and ran, ducking away under the cover of dark.

More than a week, you walked. You rationed the food you’d taken, slept on the hard ground with a knife in your hand. You only slept a few hours at a time, forcing yourself to your feet and travelling another few hours before allowing yourself more rest. The further you got, the better.

You drank only fresh water from the streams, boiled over a fire to make it safe, and as you travelled, something akin to control settled over you like a blanket. The visions still surfaced, peeling away the edges of your mind, but they were easier to push back, easier to hold at bay until you had a moment to entertain them, to watch with a keen eye rather than a startled one.

You saw him on your fifth night. Stopped at the edge of the forest, the desert spread out before you, you rested. The coven elders rarely let anyone past the commune’s borders, though you knew they’d send someone after you. But that night, your visions promised peace, a good night’s sleep beside your small fire, the blanket of stars and moons above you standing vigil.

So you let the vision take over. You saw a helmeted man, his armour having seen better days. Your mind recalled the style of the armour, a holo-pads the coven used to educate you about the galaxy as you grew — or to make your visions more potent, you wondered now.

A Mandalorian.

A torn cloak fluttered behind him, a rifle strapped to his back. As you watched, he held out one gloved hand to you, the other lifting his helmet just enough to expose his mouth — unfairly full lips and a patchy beard. His name whispered on the wind, a voice that sounded like your own.

Din Djarin.

He stepped toward you, hand still outstretched, closer and closer until the warmth of his palm cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping your cheek.

“Safe,” he whispered, the word sinking into your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite understand.

And then the vision faded. You came back to yourself, to your small fire and your blanket of stars, and without another thought, you slept. 

The moment you reached the spaceport — if you could even call it that — you snuck onto the first cargo ship you spotted, tucked yourself in with the crates and hid the best you could. It didn’t matter where it was headed, you just needed out.

The cargo ship brought you to Jabiim, and it was safe, for a time. You stole when you needed to, found the odd merchant willing to pay you for a day’s work, sold the few things you’d taken from the coven for credits. You holed up in a boarding house, flexing your control over your visions like training a muscle.

You waited for your Mandalorian to appear.

He didn’t, but two of the coven’s warriors did.

They couldn’t have known the visions had warned you. Couldn’t have known that you’d booby-trapped every inch of your room in the boarding house. They didn’t know you’d seen not only that they’d come for you, but the how and the when, that you knew how you’d keep yourself alive.

It was bloody business, and had you slipping out the back door before morning came, hiding on the next cargo ship that left the spaceport.

And the cycle continued, until you landed yourself on Batuu.

You haven’t been here long. Black Spire is the biggest outpost you’ve ever seen — not that you’ve seen many to compare it to — and it works to your advantage at first, offering a plethora of trails to lose your pursuer. You know it’s him, knew it was him the moment he stepped up to the group of people listening to that old man preaching about the stories in the stars. The tinted armour, each piece damaged in some way, the pristine helmet. The way he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall was familiar to you, and your chest fluttered with the word he’d murmured to you in your vision.

Safe.

Except, you’re anything but. You can hear the beeping, see the way his hand hovers over his blaster. As soon as you see an opening, you take it, and it’s almost enough.

Until that cart comes out of nowhere — you didn’t see that in any vision — and knocks you on your ass. You give your hands over willingly to the Mandalorian when he hauls you to your feet, letting him cuff you, start to drag you off through the Outpost.

You try to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips. “You took longer than I thought you would, Mandalorian.”

He seems to balk at your claim, his shoulders going tight, not that you can see his expression. But you can imagine those full lips clear as day, the patchy beard, the bare spots the perfect size for your thumb to fit into. 

Strength and a certain kind of ferocity seems to roll off of him, pushing every person out of your way as he leads you back toward his ship. Your head throbs with every step, your tongue numb where it got caught between your teeth when the cart hit you. It makes your blanket of control waver, a hole appearing in your armour, and your pulse quickens.

The Mandalorian all but pushes you up the ramp and into his ship. It’s nothing fancy, full of spare parts and rusted metal, but when he steers you toward the back of the ship, you see the carbonite chamber, people of every species encased in black, their expressions pained. Your heart is in your throat, rioting around, making your palms sweat.

“Go,” he tells you, gesturing at the empty platform in front of you, the chamber’s tubes steaming as he flicks a switch.

“P-please,” you manage to squeak out. Your control is gone, replaced with fear and anxiety. You pull against the cuffs, trying to turn your body away from the machine, but it’s too late.

The vision takes over, and everything goes dark.

+

Din catches you before you hit the ground.

In an instant, you shift from every other pleading bounty he’s shoved into the carbonite chamber, into something more. Your eyes roll back in your head, your body going limp, and it’s a miracle he manages to grab you before your head cracks off the metal. But he does it, grunting with the effort, wincing when he feels the jab of your shoulder in the crook of his elbow.

And he freezes.

Something in his chest goes tight, a taut string that has his ribs in a vice. It whispers that he knows you, that he’s seen your face a million times before even though this is the first day he’s ever set eyes on you. Like a part of his heart calls for yours.

It makes him stumble back a step, jostling you, your body leaning more fully into his. He’s enveloped in your warmth, the scent of you sneaking beneath his helmet, tormenting him.

I know you I know you I know you.

His gloved hand shakes as he brushes the hair from your forehead, looking at your face more fully. He studies you, the slope of your nose and the fan of your lashes. He has half a mind to take his gloves off, to feel your hair slip between his knuckles. The blood in the corner of your mouth makes something like panic shoot through him and he slips his other arm behind your knees, lifting you up and off the ground.

It takes some maneuvering, using his elbow to jab the button that lifts the door to his bed. He lays you out carefully, reaching for the medkit he keeps stashed near his pillow. He pushes back the strange feeling, focusing on the task at hand. He’s dealt with his fair share of head injuries, knows how precarious they can be. And he’s figured it out, over time — the best place to put the bacta patches, what mednog helps more than it hinders. 

Din places the last of four patches behind your ear, right along the curve of your neck. You let out a quiet hum, arching your head into his palm, and he inhales deeply.

“I know you,” he murmurs, and doesn’t quite realize he’s said the words out loud until your lashes flutter, eyes shooting open and your body following suit. “Easy,” he commands, grabbing your shoulders, making you flinch. “You’re alright, just don’t move too fast.”

Your breath comes in short bursts, and Din realizes there are tears lining your eyes, one single drop sliding down your cheek. His fingers itch to brush them away, but he resists the urge, releasing you and curling them into fists instead.

Your eyes finally land on him, and the corner of your mouth twitches, like it had in the Outpost.

“Who are you?” he asks. You know her, his mind counters.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you retort, rubbing a hand across the back of your neck. You must find the bacta patch, because your brow furrows. “You…helped me?”

“Don’t think much of it,” he tells you, bracing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up off the cot. “I’m taking you back to Savareen.”

He sees the fear cover you like a veil, watches it pinch at your eyes and tug at your lips. The feeling rears its head, screaming at him that he’s doing wrong, but he beats it back.

“Please,” you say again, the same squeak you’d let out before you passed out in the carbonite chamber. “Please don’t take me back. They’re going to kill me, they’ll—”

“They’re paying me a ridiculous amount of credits to bring you back,” Din answers, cutting you off and turning his back on you. “And I’m gonna do just that.”

“At least listen to my side of the story,” you call after him. You pause a beat, and then— “Din Djarin.”

He can’t remember the last time he heard his name on a woman’s lips. Hearing it on yours is something else entirely.

His mind is at war with itself as he whirls. “How did you—?”

“Let me tell my side,” you reiterate, holding your hands up, surrendering. “And if you still want to take my back and collect your bounty, fine.”

He doesn’t say a word, but leans back on one foot, crossing his arms over his chest. You take it as a yes, leaning back slightly, straightening your back. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and Din clenches his teeth.

“I’m a seer,” you say slowly, eyes darting everywhere except his helmet. “I have visions. Always have, long as I can remember. I was born on Naboo, but my family gave me over to the Savareen coven when I was seven. They raised me, and it was all well and good until my visions told me the truth.”

You don’t continue right away, eyes finally landing on Din’s visor. “What truth?” he prompts.

“They were poisoning me,” you said, your voice shaking. “And the poison took away my control of the visions. A seer should be able to allow the visions to come when they wish, not be constantly at their mercy. They wanted me to see as much as I could, and everything I saw, the elders ran through their databases. Anything useful they fed to the Empire.”

The mention of the Empire makes him jump.

“And I’m not the first. They’ve done this to a hundred seers before me, and killed them all as soon as they figured out the truth. It’s a cycle, one I played into the moment I escaped. They know that I know the truth, and they’ll kill me for it and tell the rest of the coven that I was a willing sacrifice, for the safety of the rest of them.”

A sad laugh passes your lips, and Din’s chest feels hollow.

“And the worst part is: they’ll all believe them. The people that raised me, my friends, if you can call them that. They’ll believe I died willingly, for the greater good.”

You drop your face into your hands and everything in him begs him to comfort you, hold you, keep you safe.

No good will come of this, the rational part of him says. He could ruin his reputation with the Guild, and where would that leave him? Bounty hunting has always been his trade, his talent. He would go back to the Covert, ashamed.

But the sound of your voice has him quickly grasping for compromise. A final kindness, to please the beast in his chest.

“I’ll give you one thing,” he says, and your head shoots up. “One last…wish, I guess. Before I take you back.”

Din swears there are stars in your eyes. “A wish?”

He nods the helmet slightly. “Name it,” he says, “and don’t say setting you free.”

You think for a moment, a million emotions crossing your face before you seem to make your decision. “Naboo,” you say, your expression calm, almost serene. “Take me back to Naboo. I want to swim in the lake, like I did as a child. One last time, before I die.”

+

You think he’s going to fight you on it. You studied galactic maps with the coven, part of the studies they allowed, and you know just how far it is from Batuu to Naboo — you know it’s about the same distance as Batuu is from Savareen, in the complete opposite direction.

You wait for the no to reach your ears, for the disappointment and acceptance of your lot to settle in. But instead, he just nods again, turns on his heel and disappears from the ship’s hold, leaving you alone, still sitting on the edge of the Mandalorian’s bed.

A moment later, you hear the tell-tale hum of the ship’s engine. Another beat, and his voice sounds through the intercom beside the cot. “Get up here and strap yourself in. Don’t need you getting thrown around down there.”

Swallowing hard, you get to your feet and walking slowly toward the ladder he’d disappeared up. The rungs are cold beneath your hands, a reminder that this isn’t all a dream, or one of your visions.

He doesn’t turn his head when you step into the ship’s cockpit, doesn’t say a word as you settle into the chair in the corner of the space. You fumble with the belt straps, tightening them around you as his gloved hands move across the ship’s dashboard, pressing buttons and turning dials. The engine grows louder as the ship starts to hover, and you brace your hands on the armrests of your seat.

You’re both silent, the entire trip. After the initial jolt through hyperspace, you find the movement relaxing, and you don’t realize you’ve nodded off until you feel a warm hand on your ankle, the Mandalorian having reached for your outstretched foot to nudge you awake.

“The drop out of hyperspace can get a bit rocky around this sector.”

You nod at the warning, ignoring the sharp tug in your stomach at the rumble of his voice through his helmet. Adjusting yourself in the seat, you find yourself staring at the back of his helmet, the curve of the metal. When he turns his head to speak to you, you catch a glimpse of his chin, dipping as he talks.

“Hold on tight.”

The jolt makes you shut your eyes, gripping the armrests as tight as you can. The ship wavers and dips, the hull shaking and groaning with the effort and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Almost there.”

You don’t open your eyes until the ship has stopped completely, the sound of the engine whirring into shutdown making your breath come easier. When you open them, you’re met with a lush forest, a clearing just large enough for the ship to touch down in.

Naboo.

You’re out of your seat in the flash, nearly tumbling down the ladder back into the hold, desperate to be out and breathing in the fresh air so close you think you could taste it. The Mandalorian follows at a slower pace, reaching around your bouncing form to activate the ramp and open the door.

“Don’t go far,” he tells you, warning lacing his tone. “If you—”

“I won’t leave your sight, Din Djarin,” you tell him, quietly revelling in the way his entire form stills at your use of his name. “I promise, you won’t need to chase after me.”

You leave him to ponder your words, and step out and into the sunlight. 

+

He stands on the Crest’s ramp longer than he should, watching you step out into the clearing. He found a good spot to land, forest wrapping around, a large lake sprawled out before you. The air is warm, fresh, invading his senses.

He watches you take off toward the water, shedding your cloak and top as you go, tossing the fabric aside. The bare expanse of your skin makes his throat go tight, makes the waist of his flight suit feel tighter than normal. As you reach the water’s edge, you crouch to pull off your shoes, straighten to shuck your pants down your legs.

Din only gets a brief glimpse at your bare lower half before you’re sprinting into the water, your laughter loud enough to send birds to the skies, disturbed from their homes in the trees. Beneath the helmet, he smiles.

You swim for hours. Din lets you take your time, your excitement getting the better of him. He tracks your head along the surface of the lake, turns his gaze to the ground when you float on your back. Din calls you back when the sun starts to set, finds something resembling dinner from the crates and boxes in the Crest’s hold. He leaves a blanket at the water’s edge as you swim back, and you eat sitting side by side on the ship’s ramp, your warm body inches from his.

A million questions dance on his tongue, the heat gathering beneath his helmet spurred by the way you lick your fingers clean when you’re done eating, sucking the juice of the fruit he found off your thumb.

How did you know his name?

Why does he feel the way that he does?

Why does he know you?

The sun dips lower, painting the sky a brilliant array of colours, orange into yellow into lavender and back again. The air is still warm, but a cold breeze blows, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Or maybe it’s the way you rise from your seat, the blanket draped around your shoulders, the way the sun covers you in a glow. He watches you make your way back to the water’s edge, but when you’re halfway there, he stands and follows you.

Din pauses when you reach the shore, the blanket dropping into a puddle of fabric near your clothes. You’re backlit by the sun, a silhouette he wants to trace again and again. “You could join me,” you call over your shoulder, stepping further and further into the water. “The water’s warmer than the air, you know.”

“Helmet takes too long to dry out,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I—”

“You could take it off,” you tell him, and his blood spikes. He wants to.

He knows you.

Din looks at you, and you meet him eyes through the visor, whether you know it or not. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers, “I don’t—”

“I know what you are, Din Djarin,” you answer, and he wants to record the sound of your voice saying his name, play it on a loop over and over until he has it memorized. “But I’ll be dead this time tomorrow.” You wade out further into the water, until it laps against your chin. “The secret of your face dies with me.”

You turn away from him, disappearing beneath the surface and reappearing further out. The sun is nearly gone, the last dregs of the sunset fading from the sky, the stars and planets taking their rightful place. The water still has a certain glow about it, the sounds of frogs and other night creatures filling the silence of the clearing.

Before he can second-guess himself, he hooks his fingers in the edge of the helmet and takes it off.

“Don’t turn around,” he calls out, reaching up to release the clips holding his cloak to his shoulders. It slips to the ground and he leans down to set the helmet atop it. One by one, he sheds each piece of his armour. The chill in the air makes him shiver, goosebumps rising on his skin as he slides down the zipper on his flight suit. He’s acutely aware of his nakedness, his eyes glued to the back of your head, bobbing in the water.

You listen; you don’t turn around.

He can’t stop his sigh when he steps into the water. You weren’t lying — it’s warmer in the water than out, and he steps quickly, feeling the ground slope beneath his feet as the water rises to his knees, his waist, his chest. Then it evens out, and he realizes you’re standing on tiptoe in the middle of the lake, your arms floating at your sides, head tilted back as you stare up at the sky.

“I’ve seen so many things,” you murmur as he comes to a halt behind you, leaving a good few feet between your body and his. If he lets his eyes dip, he can make out your slightly blurred figure beneath the water’s surface, but he keeps his gaze on the crown of your head, your face upturned to the stars. “So many places and people in the furthest corners of the galaxy. Things I’ll never truly see, but I’ve seen them just the same.” You take a deep breath, raising your arms just enough that your hands break the surface of the water. “And yet, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the skies on Naboo. I remember swimming in a lake like this, as a child. Before they sent me away. I remember the stars looking just like this.” Your eyes flutter shut. “Thank you, for bringing me here. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. A better one than you allow the galaxy to believe.”

“How did you know my name?” he asks, the words spilling past his tongue before he can stop them. “How do you know my name?”

“I dreamt of you,” you say simply, as if it’s the most normal thing. You push your hands through your wet hair, and Din’s fingers long to copy you. “A long time ago, if we’re telling truths. Your face has come to me often —first when I was small, when we both were. I saw the destruction of your home world, though I didn’t know what I was seeing. I saw you pledge yourself to the Mandalorians, saw you earn your armour in the Covert. I dreamt of you long before I started running for my life. I always knew you’d be the one to find me, Din. The one to save me.”

It’s guilt, he realizes, that pools in his stomach, propels him forward until there’s barely any space between you. Until you’re close enough that he can hear your sharp inhale as he lifts his hand from the water, lets his dripping fingers trail up the curve of your shoulder, follow the curve of your neck to the space behind your ear, where he’d placed the bacta patch earlier. He’s so close he can feel the shiver that runs like a current through your body.

“Close your eyes,” he tells you, his voice a low rumble, “and keep them closed.”

You nod your head slightly, and he waits a beat before letting his fingers hook around your chin, using that leverage to turn you to face him. Your lips part gently, your breath warm on his skin. He drags the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, presses softly as you release another shaky exhale.

Din hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time. Longer than he cares to admit, and nervousness replaces his guilt as he tilts your face toward his. His hand rounds your head, cupping your skull in his palm, and your hair slides like wet silk through his knuckles.

The first kiss he gives you is soft. It’s tentative, your bottom lip captured between his, a quiet sound rising in your throat as he pulls away. Your lashes flutter slightly, but your eyes don’t open, and your hand reaches up, curling around the back off his neck and pulling him back down to you.

He grunts at the second kiss, your body inching closer to his beneath the water. His other hand finds purchase on your hip, digging his fingers into your flesh, and he swallows your groan, leaning deeper into your kiss, tightening his grip on your hair.

You give as much as you take, your free hand flattening against his ribs, your fingers fit in the spaces between his bones. The kiss is so familiar and so new, all at once. He’s done this a million times, and has never once done it before now.

I know you I know you I know you.

Pleasure shoots through him when your teeth scrape at his lip, your tongue darting out to soothe the ache you’ve left behind. It’s a welcome ache, and his hand drops from your hip to your thigh, hooking around the back of your knee and dragging your thigh over his waist. The sound you let out goes straight to his cock and he drops his lips from yours only to close his mouth around your pulse. You lean into him, both hands around his shoulders now, more soft noises of pleasure meeting his ears as he kisses a line up to the shell of your ear.

“When you dreamt of me,” he murmurs, your head leaning into the sound of his voice, “did you dream of all the ways I’d touch you?”

He accompanies his question with his fingers along the inside of your thigh, toward where he can feel you burning hot, your body warmer than the water that surrounds you both. Your lashes flutter again as you moan, digging your nails into his skin hard enough he’s sure you’ll leave little half-moon marks behind.

“This is better than anything I could ever dream up,” you whisper back, using your grip on him to pull your body flush to his. “I knew you’d find me, but I didn’t know you’d want me, that I’d want you.”

He pulls away, heart racing in his chest. Rejection flickers across your face, pinching your brow, but he grabs your hand beneath the water, squeezing. “Come with me.”

Din leads you out of the water, his grip tight on your hand. You still don’t open your eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as he wraps you in the blanket and then leads you back toward the Crest. He brings you inside, back to his bed, and pushes at your shoulder until you’re sat at the edge.

“Don’t move.”

He head back out into the night, the sun now long gone, and collects his armour and your clothes. His body hums with need, leaving his armour on top of a crate, your clothes and his flight suit tossed into the fresher to deal with later. He closes the ramp, locks the door to the hold, and returns to where you’re still sat, the blanket tucked around you.

“Move back,” he tells you, and you obey instantly, letting the blanket fall away as you slide back on the mattress. Electricity shoots through him at the sight of you, the dim light above his bed a meagre replica of the sunset. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, dragging his hand up the centre of your body until he reaches your chest. He cups the weight of your breast in his palm, swipes his thumb over your nipple and revels in the way it peaks at his touch, the way you shiver as he does it again and again.

“Din,” you murmur, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head.

“Say it again.”

“Din.”

He leans over you, plants a hand on either side of your body as you lean back, your head resting on his pillow. Still, you don’t open your eyes.

He kisses you again, angles his head so his nose brushes along yours. You arch up into him as he settles some of his weight against you, making a home between your spread legs. He can feel how wet you are, the heat nearly radiating against his cock, and he can’t stop himself from rutting against you, burying his face in your neck and fitting his mouth to your pulse once more.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmurs, and your nod is nearly frantic.

“Please.”

Din lifts himself off you, leaning back to kneel between your legs. His palms ride the curve of your spread thighs, thumbs swiping at the crease of your hip. It makes your whole body twitch, and he swipes a finger along your cunt, the wetness coating his finger, and your back arches up off the mattress.

He sucks his finger clean. “Sweet,” he whispers, and you let out a soft whine, a whimper.

Hands dragging down your legs again, he curls his fingers around your calves and lifts your legs until your knees are hooked around his hips. He feels your ankles cross at the small of his back and leans forward slightly, taking his hard cock in hand, shuddering at his own touch.

“Open your eyes,” he tells you, hearing the hitch in your breath as he drags his tip through your wetness, “the moment I’m inside you. You understand?”

You don’t answer at first, writing against the blankets, but when he taps his cock lightly against your clit, you shudder. “I understand.”

Dragging down through your folds, he notches his cock at your entrance, pleasure making sparks shoot across his vision as he moves his hips ever so slightly. He reaches beneath you, both hands at your lower back, and lifts your hips off the mattress, holding you aloft as he drives into you.

+

Your eyes shoot open, and you see his face. His whole face.

And Gods above, he’s more handsome than you ever could have imagined.

Every moment since you stepped off the ship has been more than you could have dreamed, but seeing his face, studying those dark eyes as he pushes himself inside you, it’s everything.

His brows knit together as he forces himself deeper. Your body jolts with the movement and you bear down, tightening yourself around him. It makes him tip forward slightly, close enough that you can wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his dark hair.

The lips you remember, the patchy beard that scratches your skin when he turns his head and places a kiss against your wrist. His nose is different than you pictured, more hawkish with a scar cutting across the bridge. There are other scars too, littered across his chest and shoulders, a few even snaking down his front. You want to trace them all, memorize every ridge and dip.

He gives you a particularly hard thrust, and your vision goes white with pleasure. Your thighs quake with the intensity of it, feeling him drag against that sweet spot deep inside you. You tighten your grip on him, clenching your legs around his waist and keeping him where you want him.

“You feel…” he trails off, his lips parting as his hips roll into you over and over and over again. “I can’t…”

His groan spurs you on, lifting your hips off the mattress to meet his thrusts. The friction between your bodies grows more and more intense, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in a perfect rhythm. You can feel the pleasure growing, coiling at the base of your spine, and when he drops his head to your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple, you’re done for.

Your release rattles through you, seeming to draw Din’s from him. You shudder together, feeling the warmth of him spread through the deepest parts of you. He plants his head on your chest, hot breath fanned across your skin as you both move through it, limbs twitching and soft moans filling the air. He tries to pull himself from you too soon and you whine, refusing to loosen your hold on him.

Eventually, you let him go, instantly regretting your decision when the welcome weight of him moves off of you. He disappears for a time, but returns with a damp cloth from the fresher, and cleans between your legs before letting you move. 

He doesn’t tell you to close your eyes again. You leave to use the fresher and when you return, he’s laid out on the cot, laying slightly to the side so there’s space for you. His eyes lock on yours as you slide into the bed, watching as he lifts the blankets for you and tucks you against his side.

Sleep seems to come easily for Din; you aren’t so lucky.

+

He wakes to an empty bed.

The hum of the night echoes through the hold, and Din scrambles out of bed when he realizes the door is open, that the cool night air is pouring in, and that you’re gone.

A million different possibilities flit through his mind; have you seen what happens? he wonders.

He pulls his underclothes on and finds his blaster, stepping slowly onto the Crest’s ramp. The clearing is the same as you left it, the only difference is the water is now as still as anything, the moon perfectly reflected in the surface.

You’ve left an obvious trail, and he tracks you easily through the forest. It’s a good distance from the ship, and when he finally finds you — and the altar before you — he hides in the brush, listening.

He doesn’t know what gods the carvings in the stone depict, and he wonders if you do, or if you’re just talking to anyone who might be listening.

“It’s not fair,” you say, your voice loud enough that he can hear the waver in it. You sink to your knees before the carvings, your hands dragging on the stone as you stare up at the sky. “I can’t see what comes next now. I don’t know what he’ll choose. I never asked for this!”

Din holds his breath, wondering if the sky might cloud over at your shouting, that thunder might rumble in response to your plea.

“Why lead me to him only to put my fate directly into his hands? Why allow him to bring me to life, only to snuff me out?”

The guilt returns, turning his blood black, making his mouth run dry.

“Is anybody even listening to me? Does anyone even care?”

I care, he nearly shouts in response, but the guilt ties his tongue in knots.

“I don’t want to die!”

Your hands curl into fists, slamming against the stone wall, flattening and your nails dragging along the carvings. Your shoulders shake with sobs, and half of him wants to run to you, the other half wants to disappear.

He returns to the Crest, the guilt crawling up into his chest and making a home there, a rival to the beast that demands he keep you close. They spar between his ribs, demanding to be heard.

Only he can decide which one he’ll listen to.

+

Din is right where you left him, when you return to the ship. Sprawled on his back, his arm outstretched where you’d laid your head. You close the ramp and the door, press the buttons you’d watch him press to lock the ship, and climb carefully back into the bed. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks as you fit yourself against his side. His arm curls around you, holding you closer, and fresh tears fall.

You wake up alone. Your body aches in a good way, your limbs groaning as you find your clothes. The ship hums, and it takes you a moment to realizes you’re moving. Not through hyperspace, just flying.

When you climb into the cockpit, he’s sat in his chair, all his armour back in place. He doesn’t acknowledge as you sink down into the same seat. You force your eyes to move away from his helmet, to the world outside the ship, and your heart feels as though it may shatter in your chest.

Savareen.

It’s good to know, in a way, that Din Djarin is a man of his word. You misjudged him, it’s true, but you can’t fault him. He’s doing his job. He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen.

Maybe not all your visions come true.

The spot where he lands the ship is not one you recognize. You’re far from the coven’s commune, that much you know for sure. As the engine’s hums die out, Din comes and stands before you, the same cuffs he’d used on you on Batuu in his hands.

You give your hands to him willingly. You won’t fight him, if this is your fate.

You don’t know what comes next; you haven’t seen it.

He’s silent as he leads you out of the ship and onto the planet’s surface. The air is that same cloying heat you remember, clinging to your skin and making it crawl.

As you descend the ramp, you see a familiar face — one of the coven’s elders, flanked by two of the same warriors who had come for you on Jabiim. The same man who had come to collect you from your family on Naboo, all those years ago. Who lied to your family and said you’d be in good hands. Who lied to you your entire life, forcing you to be at the mercy of your visions.

Bile rises in your throat as you draw closer, Din’s hand tight on your shoulder, your bound hands limp in front of you. “So good to see you again, my dear,” the elder starts, and everything in you screams at you to run away, but you never get the chance.

And you don’t need to.

As the elder reaches for you, Din draws his blaster and fires a single shot. The man drops to the cracked desert floor, a smoking scorch mark in the middle of his forehead. The warriors lunge forward, drawing their swords, but Din produces another blaster and moves in front of you, his stance protective, both barrels aimed at the warriors.

“Take another step, and you die,” he nearly growls, and your fingers curl around the fabric of his cloak. The warriors’ weapons clatter to the dirt. “Go back to your coven, and give your elders this warning: if they do not stop harming the seers, they will all share the same fate as him. She leaves with me, and if they send anyone after her, they share the same fate as him.”

With a nod, the warriors turn tail, sprinting off into the desert, leaving you alone with your Mandalorian. He turns to you, unlocks the cuffs from around your wrists. Your mind reels, trying to catch up with what’s happened, what it all implies.

“You…”

Din removes his helmet, holds it against his hip as he leans in, two fingers beneath your chin as he leans in to kiss you. You sink into it, elation seeping through your body, cupping his scruffy jaw in your hands, your thumbs fitting into the patches in his beard.

The kiss feels like a promise, like an oath.

“I’ll take you back to Naboo,” he tells you when you break apart only to breathe. “You can go back to your family, back to—”

“What if I want to stay with you?”

The corner of his lips twitch, and you lean in to kiss it. “Then you’ll stay with me.”

+

The moment you step foot back on the Crest, you freeze. Your gaze goes out of focus, your body a lead weight against his. Fear floods Din’s body and he grabs you, worrying you’re going to pass out again, that he didn’t do enough with the bacta, that you’re—

You come back to yourself quickly, blinking hard and gulping down air. “Nevarro,” you tell him, your voice tight. “We need to go to Nevarro, to the Guild.”

“I can’t do that,” he tells you. “I just broke my contract by not delivering you to them. They won’t—”

“Shh,” you hush him, two fingers pressed against his lips. “Listen to me, Din. We need to go to Nevarro. Karga will believe you when you tell him what happened, and he has a new bounty for you. An important one.”

His brows lift. “You had a vision? You saw Karga?”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I saw much more than Karga,” you reply, your breath slowing. “I saw your son.”

the end

// TTWD track list //