#I feel like I could make the armor look better but I’m not sure how

[quibbs126]

Here’s something relating to the theory I made earlier today

I suggested the idea that the sword came to life and is coming after Dark Choco, basically the idea I had here was that the thing just sneaks up on him and basically forcibly puts the armor on him, and that combined with the power of the Strawberry Jam Sword gives him his Sovereign of Darkness look

Okay the idea isn’t entirely fleshed out, but you get what I’m saying here

I feel like I should have made the armor look more eerie than literally just some floating armor, but I can save that for the proper drawing of it. Right now I just had a funny idea of it just creeping up on him. Or potentially (and probably the more likely scenario) you could have it be that you see this thing (but maybe it’s hiding its true nature and pretending to be a regular Cookie) sometime before, and then we meet Dark Choco Cookie again and we have our confrontation with him and how he’s changed and everything seems good, until the armor shows back up and out of nowhere captures him and turns him into the Sovereign, likely right before our heroes’ eyes (and if you want it to be really angsty, Dark Cacao is here and the two were talking and starting to make things up between them, only for this to happen)

But I wanted the funny scenario so here you go. Dark Choco being blissfully unaware that he’s gonna get sent back into the horrors

Anyways yeah. My thoughts are all over the place right now and I don’t know how to articulate them

[scottiexmariee]

omg ive been highly enjoying ur fics and hcs!!! i think u wrote their characters very spot on 🥺 the jail one got me thinking... can i request the lads boys reacting to the reader getting in trouble after punching someone. bc someone talked shit about the boys and wanted to defend their honor or smth lmfao ty!!! 💕

omg anon lemme kiss u on the forehead 

I almost did a backflip when I read this, I was so happy to write it. This one took a bit longer to write so I do apologize, but I was reeeeally on a mission to deliver some good plot here

Some are a bit longer (coughSyluscough) but I really hope you enjoy <3

Defending Their Honor

Pairings: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k (oops)

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Lore references. Reader throwing hands. FEELINGS. Soft Sylus. -Scottie is allergic to happiness.

Masterlist

Note: I got possessed when I wrote Sylus' and probably should have made him his own fic. I am not sorry. It is longer than the others. I am bashing my head against the keyboard. Please forgive me.

☆ “While I’m honored, you didn’t have to do that on my behalf,”

☆ ^ Giggling and kicking his feet on the inside though

☆ He’d also return the favor with no hesitation if the situation was ever reversed

☆ ^ You will NOT diss his lady in his presence

☆ Y’all are def cuddling for the rest of the night as soon as you get home

Xavier really needed to learn to stop taking his eyes off of you when the two of you were out in public. 

The two of you had gone on a fun little outing to Linkon’s version of a pop-up carnival. There were games, food vendors, live music, and tons of people. He knew how badly you’d wanted to go, so of course you nearly jumped right into his arms when he showed up at your apartment after lunch and told you to get ready.

So far, it had been good. The two of you had played a couple games, won some prizes, even took chances with a few questionable rides. You had walked around, hand in hand, enjoying each other’s presence and making new memories together.

It had been seconds. Seconds. You were both, unsurprisingly, hungry after walking around for a few hours. Xavier, being the knight in shining armor that he is, had walked up to one of the nearby food vendors to grab a snack for the two of you, innocently leaving you near a blue park bench. When he finished, you had disappeared. 

He stared at the now empty park bench, snacks in hand, completely baffled. He did a quick scan of the area, only to see a bunch of people he didn’t know, and someone being escorted to the exit by two security officers.

But that person almost looked like they were wearing the same outfit as you.

Xavier squinted. Surely not, right?

He caught up quickly, nearly stumbling when his suspicions were confirmed. That was absolutely you being dragged to the front of the park.

He lagged behind quietly, saying nothing, but already accepting the fact that your fun carnival date was apparently over. 

You were given a verbal warning and kicked out of the park, being told not to come back for the remainder of this year’s visit. If you came back, it would be trespassing.

You were getting ready to text Xavier when you realized he was right in front of you, nibbling on some type of skewer he’d gotten from the vendor. “Sooo…” He began, eyeing you curiously.

“I may or may not have slapped someone,”

His eyes immediately widened, his mind running through every possible scenario. 

“What happened? Did someone touch you?” He reached out and grabbed your wrist, eyes scanning every inch of exposed skin for injuries. 

“No! No, it’s….nothing like that,” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Then….?”

Suddenly, you were a bit embarrassed. It had been so stupid. How was he even going to react to this?

When Xavier had left you by the bench, a man that looked to be around your age approached and asked for your number.

“I know you just saw me with someone.”

“So?”

“Not interested,”

“Why? Because of that loser? You could do better.”

That was it. That was the reason you’d backhanded the disrespect right out of that man’s bloodline. 

Xavier was….so many things. Incredibly kind, thoughtful, and just so deliciously him. You adored him the same way he adored you, and had him on a pedestal that no one could even close to touching. You could do better? Not possible. There was not a soul in this galaxy that was better than Xavier. At least, not to you.

Hearing someone speak lowly of him when you truthfully couldn’t even articulate how incredible he was? Yeah, instant slap. 

You kept your explanation short. “Some guy called you a loser,” You said, rubbing your arm sheepishly. 

Xavier almost giggled. 

“So….you slapped him?” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, the reality of how out-of-pocket the whole thing was finally setting in.

Surprisingly, Xavier laughed. It was soft, filled with fondness and mirth. He pulled you into a loving embrace, placing a soft kiss on the top of your forehead. He'd be lying to the both of you if he said he wouldn't do something similar.

“I’m honored,” He began, his voice muffled by your hair, “but you don’t have to slap people on my behalf,”

“I’ll always defend you, whether you’re in the room or not,” You responded, your tone firm and completely serious. 

Xavier stood there for a moment, arms wrapped around you still, feeling like the luckiest guy alive. The thought of you backhanding someone for calling him something as simple as a loser was almost hysterical, yet it filled him with a warmth he couldn’t explain. You were really something else. 

After a moment, he pulled back, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Let’s go. There’s plenty of time left for us to turn this night around,”

❅ okay listen I love Zayne

❅ but he's kinda emotionally constipated sometimes (at least on the OUTSIDE)

❅ the logical side of him wants to scold you and tell you that this wasn't necessary

❅ but the emotional side, the side that is harder for him to articulate, is lowkey flattered that you'd go that far to defend his name

Zayne slowly paced back and forth in the lobby of the city’s police station, the only sounds in the room being the tap of his shoes on the linoleum floor and the ticking of a clock on the wall. He glanced toward the clock. It had been 20 minutes since he’d come to retrieve you, and he was growing impatient. 

The two of you were in another city for an awards banquet. You’d come along simply to support Zayne, your absolute favorite person in existence (who just so happened to be an incredible Doctor that was receiving multiple awards for his work).

Imagine Zayne’s surprise when the banquet ended and he couldn’t find you anywhere. It was extremely out of character for you to disappear when it came to things like this, especially while you were in an unfamiliar place. This wasn’t Linkon. You wouldn’t have simply left without so much as a ‘congratulations’, not to mention that Zayne had been your ride here. 

By the third time your phone had gone to voicemail, Zayne was nervous. That was when he started asking around. He’d pulled up a photo of you, showing it to various employees and asking if anyone had happened to see you leave. 

It was a security guard that told him you’d been arrested.

He left immediately, having the directions already pulled up before he made it out to the car. 

Now, he paced, an amalgamation of concern, confusion, and stress. 

A buzzing sound emanated from somewhere down the hall, and Zayne’s head whipped toward the sound to see you being led out by an officer, still wearing the outfit that matched his tie color. 

The red knuckles weren’t easy to miss. 

While he did still open the car door for you, he chose a tactical silence for the duration of the car ride. There wouldn’t be a single word spoken until you were back in the hotel room. This was a calculated method by Zayne. He knew you’d be absolutely squirming by the time you guys made it back, and that was exactly what he wanted. 

The door to your shared room clicked shut behind Zayne, who’d entered behind you. He leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. He raised an expectant eyebrow at you, his eye flitting between your flustered face and reddened knuckles on your dominant hand. 

It was hard to take him seriously when he looked that handsome in a tux.

“I…may have overreacted,” You finally said, your voice coming out timid. 

“Can you go anywhere without picking a fight?” He responded, his tone exasperated. 

You swallowed. 

“I can…”

Zayne took a steadying breath. He moved from the door and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what happened,”

You had been out looking at all of the posters on the wall, reading the lists of different accomplishments and awards printed under each attendee, waiting for the banquet to end. Zayne had already received his awards, but was still backstage and not allowed to leave. Some of the audience, including you, had stepped out of the auditorium throughout the banquet. You had originally just wanted some air. The auditorium had been stuffy, and the fancy outfit you had on was not helping. 

While you were out admiring the different posters, you heard a woman making some pretty rude comments about the poster she and her friends were in front of. At first, you just scoffed. You couldn’t imagine being so bitter. Was it so hard to be supportive of others, even if they weren’t the one you came for?

And then, you realized which poster she was standing in front of. 

Zayne.

Imagine this: You happen to be involved with an incredibly smart, talented, and stunning man that just so happens to be a Chief Cardiac Surgeon at only 27 years old. The same man that has made evolutionary discoveries and progress in treating cardiac abnormalities. The same man that you absolutely adored, and wanted nothing but the absolute best for. All of this is great, right? Now imagine hearing someone say something completely horrible about him right in front of you.

At first, the confrontation had started off as just a scolding. You’d told the woman that it wasn’t right to say horrible things about the attendees. They all did such incredible things that they were receiving awards for, after all. This was not the place for such behavior. 

And then, she just….kept going. 

Before long, you’d quickly ended the conversation with an abrupt bitch-slap. Security had already been approaching when your hand connected with her face. You weren’t going to tell Zayne this, but you’d actually gotten tackled. 

You gave Zayne the shortened version of the story, leaving out all of the gushing. 

Initially, he was quiet again as he tried to process what you’d just told him. 

Lady. Talking bad. Zayne. Slap.

For a moment, he couldn’t understand why you’d even resort to that. But when he looked at you, looking at him with eyes full of love and respect, he softened a little. While he didn’t necessarily agree with your methods, who was he to dictate how a person should react to any scenario?

He patted the spot next to him, still trying to form an appropriate response. You sat willingly, leaning into his side. He looped an arm around your waist. 

You sat in silence for a few minutes longer before he finally spoke. 

“The logical part of me should scold you, (Y/N). That was a bit overboard,” 

You looked up at him. His words implied that the logical part of him wasn’t the one that was winning whatever internal battle he had going on. “And what does the other part of you think?”

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Truthfully?”

You nodded, nearly melting at the sudden affection. His lips showed the faintest hint of a smile. “Truthfully, I’m flattered,”

❀yk how Raf blushes and pouts when you do the Heartbeat interaction??

❀ yeahhhh

❀ but also.....feelings

When Rafayel learned you’d been thrown out of his newest exhibition, he was initially pretty offended. He didn’t even want to be there to begin with. You were the only reason he’d forced himself to come, though he’d never admit it out loud. He had an arsenal of complaints ready to fire off the second he met you outside, after he reasoned with security, of course. 

It was Thomas who had weaved through the crowd, placed an urgent hand on Rafayel’s shoulder, and leaned close to speak for only the artist’s ears: “Security just dragged (Y/N) out of here. She hit someone,” 

The confrontation had luckily gone mostly unnoticed. It happened quick, and security had whisked you out. You’d gone willingly, and the man you’d struck no longer felt like sticking around either. 

Somewhere during the short walk from the back of the building to the front doors, your reason for lashing out had gotten lost in translation. Rafayel was under the impression that you’d thrown hands because someone had dissed his art. 

That, however, was an unfortunate misunderstanding. 

It wasn’t his art that the man had described as ‘worthless.’ It was Rafayel. 

Rafayel had smooth-talked security into letting you come back inside, with the condition that you would not be a problem for the remainder of the night. 

Rafayel had been flattered, but definitely thought you’d overreacted. 

“Not everyone can say they have a bodyguard this protective over art,” He teased, casting an amused glance in your direction. “Think we can make it through the rest of today without another attack?” 

You’d rolled your eyes, still a bit peeved. Who the hell comes to an exhibit specifically to dog the artist, anyway? “That’s not even what happened,” You grumbled. 

“People critique art all the tiiime. That doesn’t mean they should get assaulted over it,” 

“It’s different,” 

“I’m just saying. I’ve never punched anyone at an art gallery. Maybe you’re taking the Bodyguard title too seriously,” 

“Rafayel. You were the art,” 

Rafayel came to an abrupt stop, the air seemingly vanishing from his lungs. He’d heard you. He’d definitely heard you. His brain, however, was doing backflips, struggling to process your last sentence. 

You were the art. 

The gears clicked into place, his cheeks burning hotter and hotter with each passing second. In all honesty, he was conflicted. He was torn between the all-encompassing warmth, the feeling of being appreciated and thought so highly of that you would deck someone in the face purely for speaking ill on his name. The other half of him felt almost bitter. 

You were that same silly girl with a bad memory. And yet, here you were, fighting someone off of instinct when they said something nasty about him. 

You could do that, yet there was so much you couldn’t remember.

He was in a war with his thoughts and emotions, and unbeknownst to you, you were once again the cause. 

He finally collected himself, masking the emotional roller coaster he’d just been on with a chuckle. He patted the top of your head, settling on a teasing comment rather than risking opening the floodgates. 

“You’re so weird, Miss Bodyguard,” 

Rafayel would end up finding you in every lifetime, over and over again, no matter the cost. He’d remember every promise, every touch, every stolen moment. Yet, in every single timeline, you always found a way to make his head spin and his heart do cartwheels in his chest. 

This would forever stick out as one of those moments.  

⟡ Soft Sylus.

⟡ Soft Sylus.

⟡ SOFT SYLUS.

Sylus had invited you to tag along on yet another negotiation. He’d claimed he just liked having you at his side, but he truthfully respected your input more than he’d admit out loud. He’d often bring you along under the guise of keeping him company, but would subtly pay attention to your body language and facial expressions. If you weren’t going to bite, neither was he. 

After the first negotiation you attended, you as Sylus’ +1 became a much more frequent occurrence. As long as he was in the room, your safety was guaranteed. Not to mention how a lot of potential deals went off a little smoother when you were in the room to ease the tension. 

Today, the two of you were headed to a hotel a few cities away to meet with a man named Michael. You didn’t have many details about the deal, but you had the basics. If there was anything you needed to know, Sylus would tell you. 

It had taken you exactly 6 seconds after entering the room to decide that you did not like Michael. There was just something about him that had already gotten on your nerves. The arrogance? The ‘up-to-no-good’ vibe he absolutely reeked of?  The way he looked at the two of you like you were nothing more than pests the moment you walked in? 

While it was just you and Sylus on your side of the bargain, Michael had 6 armed guards scattered through the room, which added to your irritation. Michael was clearly a man that thrived off intimidation, yet was too cowardly to have an even playing field. 

Sylus never lost his nonchalance. He strode in like he had nothing to lose, suave and unbothered. He kept a hand pressed lightly against the small of your back as he guided you to a seat, a silent reassurance that everything would be fine.

The meeting had began, but not without Sylus catching how your mood had soured considerably within the first 10 minutes. 

The more Michael talked, the shadier the whole ordeal seemed. He was boasting about some modified protocore that was the ‘best on the market,’ and trying to goad Sylus into purchasing it. 

Sylus wasn’t dumb by any means. But Sylus was also a man that would humor someone for his own entertainment. “Show it to me,” He said, his tone even.

One of the guards gestured for Sylus to follow, and he immediately turned to you, waiting for you to come as well. Instead, you shook your head. You didn’t want to risk being ambushed when you came back if both of you left. Sylus trusted your judgment, knowing that he would be gone for less than 5 minutes. With a quiet “Behave,” cast in your direction, he disappeared with the guard. 

The second the door shut behind him, Michael turned to one of his guards and said something you probably weren’t supposed to hear.  “I’m going to walk that bastard like a dog, just watch.” 

Oh? 

In hindsight, it would have been better to keep your mouth shut. All you had to do was give Sylus a signal when he returned, and he would call this off with no hesitation. Your opinion mattered, after all. He didn’t just bring you to these meetings to serve as eye candy. Knowing this, you should have just brushed Michael’s comment off. However, it had gotten under your skin in a way you couldn’t shake off. The words were leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

“I’d like to see you try,” 

Michael, and all 5 of his remaining guards, immediately looked at you as if locking onto a target. The tension in the room intensified considerably.

Michael scoffed, looking at you as if you were a bug he’d stepped on. You glanced toward the door Sylus had stepped out of moments before, half expecting him to be standing there with an amused smirk on his face. He wasn’t, though.

Michael was on his feet, taking slow steps toward the chair you were sitting in. Despite the shaking in your fingers, you stayed put. “You must think so highly of him,” He drawled, zeroing in on you. “I didn’t know a man like that could catch the attention of a pretty thing like you,”

You didn’t know why, but your anger was rising with each passing second. The implication of his words was clear, but you wanted to hear him say it. It was obvious that he thought of himself higher than Sylus, and clearly didn’t have many polite thoughts about him. You and Sylus weren’t necessarily a… ‘thing,’ per se. Not yet, anyway.  So why did this piss you off so badly?

“A man like what?” You challenged, staring up at Michael. In your lap, your hands, that had been neatly folded, were slowly clenching into fists.

Michael's mouth twisted into a wolfish, arrogant grin. “I’d say he takes up more space than he’s worth. Cocky, foolish, insufferable–”

Your fist had connected with his jaw before he could get another word out, sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his jaw as he tried to regain his footing. 

It would take you about a week to fully process how the next 15 seconds had gone.

At first, the silence was so intense that you could audibly hear the rapid beat of your own heart.

Then, guns were raised and pointed directly at you. 5 from the guards, all at separate angles, and one directly in front of you from Michael himself. 

Next, gunfire. A lot of gunfire. Multiple shots ringing out from 6 different directions. 

You weren’t exactly sure when Sylus had entered, but he apparently had the timing of a God. You’d been whisked out of harm's way, somehow completely uninjured. You realized later that he likely used his evol somewhere in the mix.

Once safely away from the hotel, Sylus turned to face you, lips set in a thin line but his expression otherwise neutral. He studied you for a long moment. 

“That went well,” He said, his tone lacking any amusement. “Should I not trust you enough to leave you unattended for two minutes?”

You folded your arms over your chest. You didn’t trust the sound of your voice yet. You knew you owed him an explanation, but the adrenaline was still too high and you were still too angry to speak.

Sylus checked you for any injuries and then, to your surprise, grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.  

“You need to be more careful who you pick fights with,” He warned. His tone was firm, but not unkind. He knew you were more than capable of handling yourself. It was one of the things he appreciated about you. However, the fight today had left a bitter taste in his mouth. This was the first time he hadn’t been in the room the entire time. It could have been a lot worse, and you weren’t bulletproof. This was the first time he’d left you alone for more than 30 seconds, and it had ended with you in a shootout. 

“Maybe he shouldn’t have been talking shit about you the second you walked away,” You retorted, your voice coming out bitter. “Right in front of me. It was just…disrespectful.”

Sylus, who had assumed Michael had started it on his own, was stunned. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have any quips or sarcastic comments to make. That was what had caused the fight? You, the same person that used to look at him with so much distrust and caution, had thrown yourself into a fight to defend his name while he wasn’t in the room. 

Sylus was silent for a moment, his eyes combing your face for any hint of deception. When your words finally sank in, he nearly melted on the spot. The adoration he’d already felt was intensified. The warmth he felt in his chest was almost too much, and he wasn’t sure whether he should scold you or kiss you. 

Instead, he gently tugged you against his chest, choosing to simply hold you for a moment. It felt like the only correct option. His chin rested against the top of your head, one arm looped around your back as the other cradled your head. He was absolutely flattered, and outrageously smitten.

Yeah, he had it bad. 

“Just when I think I have you figured out, you go and do something else that surprises me,” He murmured fondly, rubbing small circles into your back. You were an endless mystery to him. But as he stood there, holding you against him, he knew he’d happily spend the rest of his life trying to figure you out. 

Note: 1.4k words just for Sylus I am SO SORRY but I needed this man getting all soft with this prompt slkdhjsalkhd 

[moonlightwritingf1]

Until you noticed me | OP81

🎀 summary ━━━━━━━ At a rooftop party, Y/N and Oscar’s friendship takes a turn when Oscar’s protective instincts reveal his deeper feelings.

🎀 pairing ━━━━━━━ Oscar Piastri x she!reader

🎀 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.8k

Y/N had always admired Oscar Piastri from a distance. They met through mutual friends less than a year ago, and since then, their paths seemed to cross more often than either of them anticipated. Whether it was casual hangouts, race weekends, or the odd late-night group chat, their friendship had grown naturally, albeit with an undertone of something neither dared to acknowledge.

Oscar was calm and collected—a sharp contrast to her more adventurous, carefree personality. While she saw him as her ever-reliable friend, Oscar saw her as so much more. He’d never admit it outright, but he found himself constantly drawn to her, whether it was to keep her safe or simply to bask in her radiant energy.

That night, they were at a rooftop party in London, celebrating the end of the racing season. The evening was cool but pleasant, and Y/N was mingling effortlessly, as she always did. Oscar, meanwhile, kept to the edges of the crowd, watching her with a quiet intensity.

She looked stunning, her laughter carrying over the music and conversation. But what caught Oscar’s attention wasn’t just how beautiful she looked—it was the way she seemed completely unaware of how many eyes followed her around the room. It was something he admired and found infuriating all at once.

He didn’t notice the man until he was already standing too close to Y/N. At first, Oscar told himself to stay out of it. She could handle herself; she always did. But then the guy leaned in, his body language too pushy, and Y/N’s smile faltered just slightly.

Oscar didn’t think. He just acted.

He crossed the room quickly, his presence quiet but commanding. “Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “been looking for you.”

She turned, relief flashing across her face. “Oscar!”

Without hesitation, he slipped his arm around her waist, his hand resting protectively against her side. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?” he asked the man, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t actually asking.

The man hesitated, his confidence wavering under Oscar’s steady gaze. “Sure, mate. No problem.”

As the guy walked away, Y/N looked up at Oscar, her lips curving into a small smile. “What’s this? My knight in shining armor?”

“Just making sure you’re okay,” he said, his hand lingering on her waist a second longer before he forced himself to let go.

She rolled her eyes playfully, though her heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I was fine, you know.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes serious. “But I wasn’t going to risk it.”

The party carried on, but Y/N found herself gravitating toward Oscar more than usual. They ended up sitting together on a quieter section of the rooftop, away from the music and crowd.

“You’re always looking out for me,” she said, sipping her drink and glancing at him over the rim of her glass.

“Someone has to,” he replied with a small smirk.

“I’m not that reckless,” she protested.

“Y/N,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “you climbed onto a railing at the last party just to ‘see the view better.’”

She laughed, nudging his arm. “Okay, fair. But you didn’t have to pull me down like I was going to fall to my death.”

“Didn’t I, though?” he teased, but his smile softened. “You’re important to me, Y/N. I’d rather be overprotective than regret not stepping in.”

Her laughter faded, and she studied him for a moment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, but she quickly brushed it off. “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have you, huh?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes locking with hers. “Lucky.”

For a moment, the air between them shifted, the buzz of the party fading into the background. Y/N felt her pulse quicken under his gaze, but she quickly looked away, laughing nervously.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, half-joking.

“Like what?” he asked, though his voice was lower now.

“Like... I don’t know. Like that.”

Oscar tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.“

“Maybe,” she muttered, though her cheeks burned.

When the party ended, Oscar offered to drive her home, and she accepted without hesitation. The car ride was quiet at first, the city lights casting shadows across their faces as they drove.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

“Anytime,” he replied, glancing at her briefly before turning back to the road.

She hesitated, then added, “You know, you didn’t have to step in earlier. But... I’m glad you did.”

He smirked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. “You said that already. What’s really on your mind?”

She bit her lip, debating whether to say what she was thinking. Finally, she turned to him. “You care about me a lot, don’t you?”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression neutral. “Is that a trick question?”

“No, I’m serious,” she said, her voice softer now.

He sighed, pulling over to the side of the road. The car idled as he turned to face her. “Yeah, I do. Probably more than I should.”

Her breath hitched at his confession, her eyes searching his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re my friend. And I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. “Oscar...”

He shook his head, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending.”

But before he could pull away, she leaned across the console, her lips pressing softly against his. It was tentative at first, but when he responded, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, it deepened into something more.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips.

Oscar chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Good. Because I don’t think I can.”

The drive resumed, but everything felt different now. The unspoken tension between them was finally gone, replaced by something much stronger. Neither of them knew what the future held, but for now, they were exactly where they wanted to be: with each other.

The air in the car was charged now, thick with emotions neither of them had fully voiced until this moment. Oscar’s hand rested on the gear shift, but his focus was entirely on Y/N, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

He cleared his throat, his voice low and steady. “Are you sure about this? About me?”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Question yourself,” she said softly, reaching over to rest her hand on his forearm. “Oscar, you’re one of the best people I know. You don’t have to doubt how I feel about you.”

He blinked, her words hitting him like a jolt. “It’s just... I’ve thought about this so many times,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But I always convinced myself it was impossible. That I’d ruin everything if I said how I felt.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” she said firmly, her fingers squeezing his arm. “If anything, I’m the one who’s been blind to what’s right in front of me.”

Oscar let out a small, shaky laugh, his hand moving to cover hers. “So... where does that leave us?”

She smiled, leaning back slightly, but her gaze remained locked on his. “That depends. Are you planning to keep pretending this didn’t happen, or are you ready to actually do something about it?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk, his confidence growing. “You’re really not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Why should I?” she teased, though her tone was warm.

When they arrived at her apartment, neither of them made a move to get out of the car right away. The street was quiet, the only sounds coming from the faint hum of the engine and the occasional distant car passing by.

Oscar turned to her, his expression serious but tender. “Can I come up? Just to talk, I mean,” he added quickly, though the intensity in his gaze suggested there was more to his request.

Y/N smiled softly. “You don’t have to overthink it, Oscar. Come on.”

Inside her apartment, the atmosphere shifted again. The cozy warmth of her living room contrasted with the tension still lingering between them. Y/N kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch, turning to find Oscar standing near the doorway, his hands in his pockets, looking almost shy.

“You can sit, you know,” she said, her voice light.

He smiled, stepping further inside and sitting on the couch, his eyes following her as she moved around the room. She grabbed two glasses of water from the kitchen and handed him one, sitting beside him on the couch.

For a moment, they just sat there, the silence filled with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Oscar set his glass down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I meant what I said earlier. About how much you mean to me.”

“I know,” she said softly, her hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. To see you.”

He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t know.”

“But I should have,” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “You’ve been there for me through everything, Oscar. And now that I think about it, you’ve always been more than just a friend to me. I was just too scared to admit it, even to myself.”

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek gently. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opened them, he was still watching her, his gaze filled with a mix of love and desire that made her heart race.

“Oscar,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone.

“Kiss me again,” she said, her voice steady now.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Leaning in, his lips captured hers in a kiss that was deeper and more passionate than the one in the car. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer as her fingers tangled in his hair.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice husky.

“Me too,” she confessed, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck.

Oscar chuckled softly, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. “So, what now?”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. “I think we take it one step at a time. But I’m not letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good,” he said, his tone serious. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The night stretched on, the two of them talking, laughing, and sharing moments that had been building for months. As they curled up together on the couch, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted, both of them knowing they’d found something worth holding onto.

The soft glow of the living room lamps cast warm shadows on their faces as Oscar and Y/N stayed wrapped in each other's presence. The tension from earlier had dissolved into something more intimate—a quiet understanding that they were finally on the same page.

Y/N’s head rested against Oscar’s shoulder, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as they lay sprawled across the couch. The television played in the background, but neither of them paid it much attention.

“You know,” Y/N started, her voice playful but soft, “I always wondered why you’d get so worked up every time I did something remotely reckless. I just thought you were overly cautious.”

Oscar smirked, his fingers brushing through her hair. “You think climbing rooftops and arguing with strangers is remotely reckless?”

She laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Okay, maybe a little more than remotely. But now it all makes sense. You’ve been secretly in love with me this whole time.”

His smirk turned into a sheepish grin. “It wasn’t exactly a secret, Y/N.”

She tilted her head to look at him, her brows furrowing in mock disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone knew,” he admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. “Lando teased me about it constantly. Even your friends dropped hints.“

Her eyes widened in shock. “Wait—what? My friends knew?”

Oscar chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest on her waist. “Apparently, I’m not as subtle as I thought.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god, I’m the clueless one in this scenario, aren’t I?”

“You said it, not me,” Oscar teased, gently pulling her hands away from her face. “But I didn’t mind. I figured you’d notice eventually.”

She sighed, her cheeks still warm from embarrassment. “Well, you’re a lot more patient than I would’ve been.”

Oscar’s expression softened, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. “You were worth the wait, though.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, her heart swelling as she looked into his eyes. She leaned up to kiss him again, this one slower and more deliberate, her hands cradling his face.

As the kiss deepened, Oscar’s hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer until she was straddling him. The shift in position sent a shiver down her spine, the closeness between them sparking something electric.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and filled with desire.

“Maybe I like the heat,” she whispered back, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Oscar groaned softly, his grip on her tightening. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” she quipped, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

His hands slid up her back, his touch firm but careful. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Why don’t you show me?” she challenged, her tone bold but breathless.

Oscar’s eyes darkened, his restraint teetering as he captured her lips again, this time with more urgency. His hands roamed, exploring the curve of her hips and the small of her back. She melted into him, her own hands tangling in his hair as their kisses grew more heated.

Somehow, they found themselves in her bedroom, their breaths ragged as they tumbled onto the bed. Oscar hovered over her, his gaze searching hers for any hesitation.

“Tell me to stop if this is too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

She cupped his face, her eyes locking with his. “I don’t want you to stop. I’ve wanted this for so long, Oscar.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He kissed her deeply, his hands exploring her body with a mix of passion and reverence. Every touch, every kiss, was unhurried, as if he was savoring every second of this moment they’d both been waiting for.

Y/N arched into him, her fingers trailing over the muscles of his back. “You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and desire.

“Good,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he kissed down the column of her neck.

The night unfolded with a tenderness that spoke of more than just physical connection. It was about the months of unspoken feelings, the silent yearning that had built up between them. Every touch, every word, was a culmination of everything they’d held back for so long.

Later, as they lay tangled together under the covers, Y/N rested her head on Oscar’s chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin.

“You know this changes everything, right?” she murmured.

Oscar tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It doesn’t have to change anything we don’t want it to. Except now, I get to kiss you whenever I want.”

She smiled, tilting her head to look up at him. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, leaning down to steal another kiss.

Y/N sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to him. “I can live with that.”

Oscar chuckled, his voice warm and full of affection. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

As the night stretched into early morning, the two of them drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they’d face them together. For the first time, everything felt exactly as it should.

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

-----------------------------♟️----------------------------------

When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.

[water-to-drink]

How They Became Attracted to You

(Characters): Al haitham, Ayaka, Kaeya, Chiori

(Synopsis): First meetings with the most popular or influential students at the academy

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, reader is an artist, school au, reader is a transfer student, possible ooc Chiori, (if I missed something lmk)

(Word Count): 1.4k

(A/n): If you all like this then I’ll make a part two, just tell me which characters you want to see

🦅Al haitham🦅

🦅 The first and only one to best him in a test, a geometry test to be specific. He only came in at 99% while you come in at a perfect 100%

🦅 At first refused to believe that a mere art nerd could get a better score than him and so with as much delicacy as a bull in a china shop Al haitham came up to you and asked you how you got your score

🦅 Being randomly approached by the school’s smartest student you were very nervous and told him that you just did what you learned from class. Seeing that you won’t give him the answer he asks for you to tutor him which you agreed to go it, mostly because you were very nervous under his sharp gaze

🦅 While tutoring it became apparent that you sucked at explaining things to him, don’t get him wrong he already knows the material he just wants to know how and why you got a 100. As these sessions went Al haitham saw how your hands would glide across the paper, the delicacy almost amazed him

🦅 Slowly but surely Al haitham realized that there was more to your shy exterior. You were sassy and quick witted, you could even match his intellect on many topics, he finds himself feeling that he on an equal level with you.

🦅 Now he looks forward to your tutoring sessions, recently you two won’t do any tutoring just do your homework and talk about anything on your mind, the same mind that he finds so interesting and beautiful

🪭Ayaka Kamisato 🪭

🪭 The two of you have seen each other in the hallway before and after classes. She would always see you with a sketchbook in your hands or drawing in it. You didn’t take up too much real estate in her mind, the poor girl has too much going on as the daughter of the Kamisato family. That was until one day where Ayaka was leaving cram school and her chauffeur was stuck in traffic, she was approached by an older man

“What’s a girl like you doing out so late?”

“I’m leaving cram school, sir.”

“Cram school? You kids work so hard, I can show you a good time.”

“Uh, no thank you, sir.”

“C’mon, don’t be so stuck up, live a little-”

“What’s the problem?!”

🪭 There you are, yelling at the top of your lungs, she can tell that you’re scared but you still yell drawing more attention to yourself and the creep in question. Once a lot of people are watching the scene the creep walks off leaving you and her alone

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry that you had to step in.” Ayaka bows her head

“Don’t worry, I saw that you were uncomfortable so I decided to step in. See you around.” You waved goodbye as you walked off and her chauffeur pulled up

🪭 Later Ayaka came to learn that you didn’t know of the prestige that came with the Kamisato name. You came up and scared off the guy of your own volition, thinking that she was just an ordinary girl who needed to be rescued and that is what she’ll continue being to you

🪭 It wouldn’t be hard since you two are in different grades, you being her senior by a year. You would both meet up in a quiet cafe you work at, she learned that it was your family’s business and work there to help your family and to earn some pocket money. The two of you got so close that you even let her look through your sketchbook and Ayaka was amazed by your skills

🪭 When you offered to draw a portrait of her she jumped at the offer. So one day at your family’s cafe you presented her a drawing of her. You drew her as a swordswoman dressed in traditional Inazuman clothing and armor, she profusely thanked you and framed it the moment she got home

🪭 There are some nights where if she can’t sleep mainly because of nerves she’ll take your drawing and look at it, thinking about you would quell her anxiety and give her the best of dreams. Just don’t tell her brother, she’s afraid he’ll scare you off

❄️Kaeya❄️

❄️ Is the complete opposite of his adopted brother, he’s known as the school’s flirt and a total playboy. He makes girls and guys alike go head over heels for him, and you, the new transfer student, is on his radar

❄️ He lives for making innocent things like you into a flustered little mess. So when he sauntered over to you and threw his usual flirty remarks, he wasn’t met with a sheepish face nor an oblivious one. No he was met with a look of disgust

❄️ Without saying anything you walked away from him, leaving him bewildered. Did he do something wrong? Everyone falls for him. Refusing to take this laying down Kaeya decides to find out why weren’t you under his spell

❄️ And so he began to make an attempt to learn more about you, your likes and your dislikes, or your hobbies. At first you would just ignore him when he would try to strike up a conversation and after a few weeks he decided to make a deal with you

“Are you serious?” You asked

“Dead serious. We’ll act as friends and if you still can’t stand me in 2 months, then we’ll stop. Does that sound good?”

“Only if you promise to leave me alone after?”

“If you still can’t stand me.” Kaeya threw his signature smirk

“Ugh fine! But no flirting!”

“I make no promises~”

❄️ The two of you tried to act as friends, before it was awkward but soon you got used to his presence and you slowly began to come out of your shell, finally showing your true colors after about 3 weeks of “friendship”

❄️ Kaeya finds himself laughing at your jokes, actually laughing and not the fake laugh he would do when he’s trying to fuck somebody. Now Kaeya’s heart thumps whenever you would laugh at something or wave at him in the hallway. Oh gods, is he in love?!

❄️ He wishes he didn’t have the reputation he has, he wants more than your body, he wants your heart

🪡Chiori🪡

🪡 The president of the sewing club. Chiori and her club members have made various designs, many of them for the theater group whenever they’re putting on a performance. However the best designers have their slow movements, not being able to come up with any designs that are up to their standards. That is what plaguing Chiori

🪡 One day she finds a random sketchbook in the sewing club. Curiosity getting the best of the young seamstress she flips through the book, there she sees the most beautiful character designs, the obvious inspiration from big names like Chanel, Gucci, and Thierry Mugler, but the person who made these designs are unique to them. It all gives Chiori a surge of inspiration

🪡 Immediately she opens up her own sketchbook and begins drafting up some designs, some are amazing but others don’t compare to the designs in the mysterious sketchbook she found. She must find the person who made this

🪡 She hears the door opening and when she turns her head, she sees you looking a bit embarrassed.

“Uh, I left my sketchbook here, have you seen it?”

“Yes, I have.” Chiori picks up the book and hands it to you. “I looked through it.”

“Wait, what?!”

“And I like what I saw, can I make the designs in this book?”

🪡 So every Tuesday you would go to the sewing club and let Chiori bring life to your designs, the two of you would talk about various fashion styles and designers. Chiori is very impressed by your vast knowledge on how different styles and cultures arose, she might even say it rivals her knowledge (but she won’t)

🪡 The more time you two spend together the more Chiori likes you, she would look forward to your presence right next to her talking her ear off about your characters as she worked. Normally she would play music but the sound of you rambling is more than enough for her

🪡 In the privacy of her room Chiori would often find herself drawing up designs for wedding garments for her and yours wedding, she can’t wait for the day you to call her “my wife”

[clockwayswrites]

Totally didn't write Tim being confused.

WC:1174 Masterpost

“So are you going to want in on it?” Jason asked without looking over at Tim. If his brother wanted to follow after him on his mundane patrol, let him.

“You’d be okay with that?” Tim asked, unable (or not trying to) keep the surprise out of his voice.

Jason just shrugged, sure to exaggerate the motion to show through his armor. Tim had done him a favor with this research, Jason figured he earned a spot on the bust. Besides, Jason was… trying. He couldn’t make up for what he’d done to Tim, but he could try to be better now.

“Yes, sure,” Tim said in response to the shrug. “Just let me know when and I’ll make sure the others know to cover my route that night. Or nights, if you need help planning?”

Gut reaction was to growl at the offer of help planning, but Jason forced the sound back down into a noncommittal noise. He was better now. He didn’t need to do everything himself. His goons, and god he still didn’t like that name but whatever, proved that. Crime Alley was better because of them. “Maybe. Lemme look over your data first. I’ll let you know.”

“Right, sure, of course,” Tim said with an aborted flutter of his hand. “Just let me know.”

Fuck, Jason really should say yes, let Tim help. “Yeah, I will. Just need to go over what you’ve got, get my head around it, you know?”

Tim nodded. Some of his hair slipped out of the hair tie that he had it pulled back into. Jason thought it was good for the kid to be growing his hair out, getting out of that perfect corporate box he put himself into too much, but he didn’t know how to say that in a way that wouldn’t offend Tim or make him feel judged, so Jason kept quiet.

In the quiet it was very easy to hear a too familiar voice growl, “I said back off! I’m not interested!”

Jason sighed, the noise threatening through the modulation of the helmet, and turned to run over the roof tops towards the voice. He could feel rather than hear Tim change directions with him, ever the loyal shadow.

-

Tim perched on the edge of the roof that Jason was leaning over.

“Come on, my money’s good,” huffed some dude. He must have gotten out of his car to confront the sex worker who had turned him down. Which beyond being rude, no still meant no even if the person was a sex worker, it was clear the worker was done for the night. They were carrying two handfuls of plastic bags and Tim could smell the food from the roof.

“I said no, dude,” they said. “Go find someone working a corner if you need it that bad.”

“Yeah, they don’t have what you have,” the guy said. Then he did the stupidest thing he could have done and reached out while the sex worker pulled away.

Jason was already over the ledge of the roof before Tim had twitched. He landed with a purposeful crunch on the battered asphalt and had his gun drawn and pointed as the guy spun around.

“You new to the Alley?” Jason growled.

The guy (who looked two seconds away from pissing his pants) shook his head.

“Then you should know the rules,” Jason said. He stepped forward and pressed his gun against the guy’s temple.

Tim’s gaze flicked between Jason and the sex worker, who was looking on… fondly? Something else was going on here.

“I see you fucking with people like this again and you’ll lose something important, got it?”

“Got it,” the guy squeaked.

“Get out of here.”

The guy scrambled back to his car and took off with a squeal of tires. Tim jumped down silently while Jason holstered his gun and turned to the sex worker.

“Hood!” They said with a bright smile.

“Danny,” Jason growled. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”

“Delivering some dinner to Nickie and the girls,” Danny said, holding up the plastic bags in his hands.

Jason’s fingers twitched like he wanted to run a hand over his helmet (or strangle the other). “Dressed like that?”

The worker, Danny, pouted and looked down at his outfit. There was a large sliver of stomach exposed between the bright green crop top with a pattern of cartoon ghosts, tiny black shorts with magenta details, and knee high black boots. Tim sort of thought the look worked for him in an eye searing way.

“Oh come on, I’m going to see Nickie. You know I have to dress right or she’ll drag me off to another makeover. I can’t take any more makeovers, Hood. And… don’t you think I look good?”

“Of course you look good,” Jason said.

Tim’s head whipped over to stare. He had to purposeful close his mouth before he caught flies.

Danny’s pout grew. “Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is people are going to think you’re a hooker.”

Wasn’t he?

Danny rested a hand on his hip and raised a brow at Jason. “You say that like being a hooker is a bad thing. Do I need to tell the girls you said that?”

“You know what I mean!” Jason argued. “You just had a pushy John try to pick you up!”

“And I was handling him!”

Jason growled again and took a threatening step forward. Instead of being cowed by it, Danny stepped up into Jason’s space, basically pressing himself along Jason’s looming form. And then Danny stood up on his tip toes and pressed a kiss to Jason’s helmet, right where his mouth would be.

Tim could hear the dial up tone in his own mind.

What.

It only got louder when Jason sighed and just slumped, the fight going out of him.

“Danny…”

“I’m fine, Hood. Look, I’ll take the food to Nickie and stay with the girls until you can walk me home. Or your little shadow can.”

When Jason’s head jerked up to looked at Tim, he couldn’t help the instinct to raise his hands innocently.

Jason just grumbled and let his helmet drop onto Danny’s slim shoulder, which started shaking with laughter.

“Shut up,” Jason said.

“You forgot he was there, didn’t you?” Danny asked. He transferred all the food to one side so that he could run a hand over the helmet and down to Jason’s neck.

Jason letting someone touch him so casually, especially as Red Hood wasn’t helping Tim’s brain reboot.

“Red, get your ass over here,” Jason said.

Tim figured it was best to listen with whatever the fuck was going on here. He slipped out of the shadows while Danny turned around, tucked himself back into Jason’s arms, and smiled at Tim.

“Red, Danny. Danny, Red Robin, one of the Bats.”

“Hi,” Danny chirped cheerfully and held out his empty hand.

“Hello,” Tim said, shaking it mostly on instinct. What the fuck was going on here?

---

AN: Oh look! Another Bat finally meets Danny! Tim is so, so confused. I'm not feeling well at all, so I went back to the tried and true fic that I'm not writing. It's been a while since I haven't written it, hasn't it?

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost here.

[jazzyoranges]

Princess Treatment

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Request: can u write about tara being clingy to the reader. it's like tara wont let go of reader, she follows wherever the reader goes

Words: 1k

Warnings(?): some talks of Tara’s past trauma, honestly it’s just fluff idk what to tell you

“Tara, the love of my life, you can’t come with me to work”

“Why not?” Tara groans, wrapping her arms around your waist in a grip that rivaled a gorilla

“Baby, they hired me. Not me and my girlfriend”

“Being a barista surely can’t be that difficult!“ The younger Carpenter only holds onto you even tighter

“How about this. You can sit in the cafe and watch me work while you finish your studying” You offer, pressing a kiss to her forehead while holding her face in your hands

“Well I can’t study while I’m busy staring at you, babe”

“Would you rather me leave you here?”

“Studying at a coffee shop it is” Tara beams, and you can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile on your face

Work was normal. Nothing out of the ordinary other than Tara not being able to keep her eyes off you, which, you send her multiple glares to do her homework. Honestly, you didn’t really mind how clingy Tara was. You knew what the smaller Carpenter has been through

Coming to the conclusion your girlfriend refused to ever leave your side was due to past trauma, you quickly decided there was no harm in making Tara feel better. “Happy wife, happy life” as they say

So Tara stayed. She stayed until her eyes were heavy. Tara stayed with you until the shop was about to close, and your boss gave you a questioning look and a raised eyebrow. You shrug in response, moving to wake up your sleepy girlfriend

Tara’s eyes flutter open, and you can feel your heart melt at how fucking adorable she is. You could never be able to understand how anyone would willingly try to put her in harms way. A single look from her sent your heart spiraling

A small yawn comes from the brunette’s mouth, making her eyes crinkle just the way you liked

“C’mon, Tar, it’s time to go home” You whisper, trying your best to not wake her too much. You’ve already packed Tara’s school things in her bag by the time she’s awake

Tara does her little grabby hands towards you, and you can hear your coworkers snort at your little interaction. You give them the finger before putting on Tara’s backpack, and also somehow putting on Tara. Her legs wrap around your waist while her arms around your neck. Being close to you was one of Tara’s favorite things

Even in her sleepy and blissed out state the younger Carpenter smiles into your shoulder, inhaling your scent. Tara always associated you with safety. You were there when she cried, smiled, cried some more, and now you were here carrying her to your car like the angel she was. Princess treatment, if you will

But you were okay with being Tara’s knight in shining armor, princess charming, or whatever the hell she wanted. But right now Tara wanted to sleep in your arms. Her brain threatened sleep, but she didn’t want you to be carrying her around like a rag doll. Like she wasn’t already one to begin with

Tara couldn’t recall the night if she tried to. First she was studying with half-lidded eyes, the next she was being carried to your car, and now here she was tucked under your blanket with one of your clean shirts on her body and nothing else but underwear

The bathroom light was turned on in the hallway, and Tara wanted nothing more than to be in your arms again. She missed you quite a lot in her sleep

Against her body’s will, Tara trudged to the bathroom. The wooden floors were cold under her feet, but they were a small price to pay to see you. She could hear your electric toothbrush spin as she neared

Some of the wooden planks squeaked as Tara walked, so you weren’t surprised when she opened up the rest of the door and wrapped her arms around your torso. You spit out your toothpaste, and quickly rinsed out your mouth to start your skincare

“You weren’t in bed, (Y/n/n)…” The younger Carpenter mumbles sleepily

“I’m sorry, Tar. I had to finish up cleaning around the house and my schoolwork”

“It s’okay, I just missed you” Tara yawns

“How about you go back to bed? I’ll be done in a few minutes”

“Mmm… I wanna stay here with you.”

“You’re tired, love. Go to sleep for me?” You try to convince her with a kiss, but it only seems to drive her closer into your back. You sigh in defeat, and Tara knows she’s won when you focus on your skincare again

Tara sways behind you a little, holding onto your stomach like you’ll fly away if she doesn’t. Tara wants to keep you all to herself. She was greedy like that

Tara thinks a few minutes pass? She’s too tired to keep track. Your girlfriend may as well be asleep when you’re finished in the bathroom. You turn off the light, still in Tara’s embrace, and turn around so she’s no longer facing your back

“Wish you were in bed, yet?” You whisper

“No, cause you’re here…” Your girlfriend mumbles again. You’d probably never be able to get over how cute she could be without knowing it. Unfortunately, Tara doesn’t show any signs of moving and you know exactly what she wants

Hooking your arms under her knees, you easily hoist you girlfriend up and onto the bathroom counter. Tara gives you a quick kiss before she nuzzles into the crook of your neck as you carry her for the second time tonight

If Tara made you carry her until the ends of the earth, then so be it. Sore arms were worth it if you got to see your girlfriend smile. You gently place Tara on the bed, yet her arms still wrap around your neck like a tiny koala. A very tiny koala

You have to manually remove her hands from your neck, and you can hear her huff in frustration. You’re quick to make it better by cuddling her, your front to her back. Tara falls asleep again with you on her mind

[patscorner]

Hey, idk if your taking requests rn but could you do an Emily Engstler x chubby reader fic where reader is in her feelings about a personal subject of your choice and they end up arguing over it? Idk just some angst and fluff please?

I don't really like how this turned out, but here you gooo

Butterflies

Summary: When you receive hate, instead of getting the calm, gentle response from your girlfriend, you get an unexpected reaction.

wc: 1,099

Contains: talks of insecurities, two kisses, that's all

______________________________

You sigh as you put your car in park. Finally, after a day in hell(at work), you were home. For some reason, everyone and their mom decided to test you today. Ranging from customers cussing you out, to Emily being cranky before you left for work, the day seemed to be giving you a break.

Even though you and your girlfriend had bickered all morning, right now, you wanted nothing more than to be in her arms. But before you do, you decide to open instagram. Bad idea. There were multiple hate comments on your post about how you looked in a bathing suit. You weren't the biggest person in the world, but you also weren't the skinniest. You've never been skinny, and you were often judged for that rather than your cheerful personality. So, like most bigger kids, you were bullied when you were younger, causing you to have low self confidence and self esteem.

Eventually, you grow to love your body, and it only gets better when you start to date Emily. She thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, and she made sure you knew that.

Of course, it wasn't always smooth, and you had your days. Like now.

The post was from a month ago, when Emily surprised you with a trip to Mexico. Normally, they wouldn't affect you, but after the day you had, the words displayed on your screen found cracks in your armor and buried itself there, finding its way under your skin and into your heart.

You sigh heavily, blinking back tears as you get out of the car and locking it behind you. You take a deep breath as you unlock the door to your shared apartment with Emily.

You hear her yelling from the bedroom as you place your keys on the counter. You make your way into the room and see she's on the game with a couple of her teammates. “Hi, baby.” She mumbles, glancing at you before she draws her attention to the screen.

You don't say anything back, just grab your clothes and go to the bathroom to change. This sets alarms off in Emily's head, but unfortunately, the game she's playing has already put her emotions on ten and her patience on zero.

“What the fuck?” You hear her mumble. You roll your eyes, before changing and walking back out into the room. She's not on the game anymore, instead, she's sat on the end of the bed, with her arms crossed. You close your eyes and sigh when you see her, you truly don't have the patience.

“What the fuck is your problem? You came home pissed, and didn't even say hi to me.” She squinted her eyes at you.

You don't say anything, and just sit down next to her, hoping she'd relax at the sight of your need for comfort. She doesn't.

“I'm sorry. I’m not feeling the best, I was on Instagram and there were comments an-” Emily cuts you off with a laugh as she stands up.

“Are you serious? I told you to stay out of the comment sections. You're asking for it at this point.” She scoffs.

The statement takes you by surprise. Your normally gentle girlfriend was standing in front of you, her anger directed at you. “I'm ‘asking for it’?”

Then it clicks for Emily, as her eyes soften and she tries to take her statement back. “That's not what I me-”

Now it's your turn to cut her off. “Bullshit, you meant it. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to look like this, and I didn't ask to be treated like this either.” You stand up, a move towards the door, tears streaming down your face. You stop before you close the door and lock eyes with Emily.

Her eyes are guilty, looking down at her feet. “I'm sleeping on the couch.” You sigh. She looks up like she wants to say something, but closes her mouth instead.

“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you too.” You respond before going into the living room.

You stir in your sleep, feeling yourself being lifted from the couch. You open your eyes and look up to see Emily carrying you bridal style back to your room. “Shh, go back to sleep, ma.” She whispers, kissing your head.

You groan as she gently puts you down on your side of the bed. She mimics your actions, laying down next to you, wrapping her arms around you, so you're facing her. Sleep has left you now, and you're both just staring at each other.

“What're you doing?” You whisper. Emily's heart breaks as she takes in your features. Your eyes are red and puffy, and your hair is disheveled from the amount of times you ran your hand through it.

“Couldn't sleep.” She mumbled, pulling you closer. You melt into her arms, finally getting the embrace you needed earlier.

“I'm so sorry, baby. What I said was fucked up. I was still hype from the game, and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.” She places an apologetic kiss on your lips, so light it was almost ghostlike.

“ ‘s okay.” You mutter.

“No it's not. I'll do better, I promise. It'll never happen again.” She said, forcing your eyes on hers. The words you read earlier flash through your mind, and your breathing hitches as you close your eyes, attempting to stop the tears, but it's no use.

She sighs as she watches you break down, and she can't help but feel like she caused some of it. She pulls you closer, her tattooed hand rubbing circles up and down your back.

“They're wrong. You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and I'm not gonna stop telling you, not until you believe it. And even then, I'll continue to tell you. Because it's true. Those motherfuckers don't know you. Not like I do, and they never will. “

She pauses to wipe your tears, kissing your cheeks gently. “I love you so much, and no matter what they say, I always will. D’you understand?” her eyes locked with yours, waiting for your response.

You sniffle, nodding slowly. Emily shakes her head. “Words, baby.” She whispers.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and by the way Emily tries to bite back a smirk, you know she did it on purpose. “I understand. I love you too.”

With that she pulls you into a passionate kiss, lips interlocking as she takes your insecurities away, replacing them with butterflies.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Not sure if you’d be into this butttt with the little cabin that Din just received - could we get like a glimpse of domestic life with din, reader, grogu, annndd maybe another kid or a kid on the way? Smut is welcome! But also it doesn’t have to have it

Ok hope you like the idea love you bye 😂

The Cabin

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: F (one mildly steamy line of dialogue but besides that just some domestic fluff)

wc: <1k

din masterlist

The days of sneaking glimpses of The Mandalorian when he’d come to the school you taught at to drop off and pick his son up were long gone by now, but standing on the porch of Din’s cabin that he insisted was now your cabin, you couldn’t help but stare.

Din was in the yard, sparring with Grogu to keep his apprentice’s skills sharp.

There wasn’t even a sliver of skin exposed, and yet he still looked like the sexiest man you’d ever seen. It was in the way he moved, the way he taught, the way he spoke to his child like every child wanted to be spoken to. He was just so…competent. A competent fighter, though he preferred to keep that side of himself far from you. A competent father, his devotion to Grogu running as deeply as his devotion to his Creed, perhaps even deeper. And Maker knows you can’t forget his competency as a lover—his skillful hands, his neediness, his attentiveness, his desire to make you feel good, it all made you feel drunk with adoration and lust.

“That’s enough for the day,” he announced through labored breathing, the child’s use of the force making the fight nearly fair. “You did good, kid.”

“You both did well,” you added from the porch, watching as Grogu leapt across the lawn towards you until you were bending down to pick him up. “Especially you.”

“He’s getting good,” Din said, meeting the two of you on the porch. “He’s a better fighter than most adults.”

“Well, he’s your son, after all,” you replied, looking into the black of Din’s visor. Din tilted his helmet at you, something you’d slowly learned to read as a smile, and reached to pinch your chin with his gloved hand. “Lunch is ready. You must be starving, little guy.” Grogu chirped and cooed in confirmation, his wide eyed look of excitement never failing to bring a smile to your face. Looking to Din, you lifted your hand to scratch his chin from beneath his helmet. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” he replied, low and husky.

“I’m talking about food,” you laughed and turned around to walk into the house with Grogu on your hip. Din let out the slightest of chuckles and followed you inside, the door closing behind him.

“Food sounds nice too, cyar’ika.”

Later on in the evening, you found yourself sitting beside Din on the bench in front of the cabin, the lid of his helmet lifted as he sipped on a drink. Your head rested on his shoulder, his armor off, and watched Grogu chase a frog around the yard.

“How’s the little one treating you today?” Din asked, his voice unmodulated and clearer than normal. You smiled down at your just-now swelling stomach and ran a hand over it.

“Treating me okay,” you answered. “Likes to kick when you talk.”

“Really?” he huffed a chuckle. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I think it is,” you looked at him with a smile. “They’re just excited to meet their dad.”

“I’m excited to meet them, too,” he replied, soft and sincere, as though he were on the verge of tears. Turning back to face his child as he used the force to freeze the frog he’d been playing with and hover it back into his waiting hands, Din let out another chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, smiling.

“I just never…” He paused, looking back to you before closing the lid of his helmet, his voice becoming modulated again. “Just never thought I’d have all this.”

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[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things: Showing Up (Tabula Rasa)

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Hotch leveling the court room with THAT charcoal gray comment. Word Count: 1.8k a/n: so excited to finally add more to this story. it's been 3 years and that is just tragic. this one is short n sweet. The Purest Things Masterlist

au! may 2008

Bookend: "Weak men wait for opportunities; strong men make them." -Orison Swett Marden

You slipped quietly into the back of the courtroom, careful to avoid drawing attention as the door clicked softly behind you. The room buzzed with low murmurs—reporters, spectators, the rhythmic shuffle of papers—as the trial of serial killer, Brian Matloff was in full swing. Up front, the prosecution table was occupied by Cece Hillenbrand and Aaron Hotchner, his familiar profile sharp and focused, every inch the stoic leader you’d come to admire.

Your gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than you meant to. He looked as composed as ever, hands folded on the table, his shoulders squared. To the outside world, he appeared utterly unshakable. But you knew better—underneath that calm exterior was the weight of responsibility he carried like armor. Maybe that’s why you were here. Not because he needed you—Hotch didn’t need anyone—but because you wanted to be. To silently remind him that no matter how heavy that weight got, he wasn’t alone.

“Y/N?”

Spencer’s soft voice startled you out of your thoughts. You turned to find him sitting in one of the wooden benches, a folder of papers balanced precariously in his lap. He blinked up at you in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you here.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, nodding toward the empty spot beside him.

“No, of course not,” he said quickly, scooting over to make room as you settled in. He leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t scheduled for this part of the case.”

You gave him a small smile, shrugging as you folded your hands in your lap. “I just… wanted to come to support you guys. Support him.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly, studying you with that sharp, observant look of his. You knew what he was silently piecing together, but for once, he chose not to say it out loud. Instead, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Even if he doesn’t say it.”

Your gaze flickered back to the front of the room, where Hotch was reviewing some notes with Cece. You could tell from the faint crease in his brow that he was hyper-focused, preparing for whatever the defense might throw at him. It struck you then, how natural he looked here—so calm in a sea of chaos, so precise in the role he played.

“Is he up next?” you asked Spencer softly, not wanting to interrupt the proceedings.

“Soon,” Spencer replied, his voice a gentle murmur. “Cece’s setting up his testimony now. They’re about to bring up Brian Matloff’s psychological evaluation, and the defense is going to try to undermine the profiling methods we used.”

You nodded, understanding. The courtroom dynamics were always brutal when behavioral analysis was scrutinized—it was easy for attorneys to paint the BAU’s work as speculation, no matter how accurate it often was.

As you settled deeper into your seat, you felt a sense of quiet purpose settle over you. Watching Hotch up there, ready to defend the very work he dedicated his life to, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. No matter how hard they pushed him, you knew he wouldn’t falter.

Spencer shifted beside you, offering a small grin. “You picked a good time to show up.”

You arched a brow. “Oh?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically, his gaze darting toward Hotch with a knowing look.

You huffed softly, shaking your head. “You’re not going to give me a hint?”

“Just watch.”

You turned your attention back to the front as the judge called for the next witness. Hotch rose smoothly, buttoning his jacket as he approached the stand with that steady, deliberate stride of his. The room seemed to quiet, an anticipatory hush falling as he was sworn in.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes fixed on him as he settled into the chair. There was something about seeing him up there—under the sharp lights of the courtroom, surrounded by strangers and opposition—that made your chest tighten. He looked so… unwavering.

As the defense attorney began his questioning, you sat back, silently ready to watch Hotch do what he did best.

Hotch sat composed on the witness stand, an unshakable calm exuding from him as Lester Serling smugly paced the floor.

“Fact is, behavioral analysis is just intellectual guesswork,” Serling said with a smirk. “You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.”

“Objection,” Cece Hillenbrand interjected.

“Withdrawn,” Serling replied dismissively, already turning toward his seat as if the moment had passed.

You watch Hotch intently. The spotlight is on him now, and you know he won’t waste a single moment of it. Every word, every movement will be deliberate—because that’s who Aaron Hotchner is. Controlled, calculated, and always a step ahead.

“Charcoal gray,” Hotch said evenly.

The room seemed to still. The defense attorney turned around sharply, half-expecting to mock him further. Instead, he hesitated, stunned as Hotch’s quiet confidence lingered in the air. When Serling lifted his pants, the room buzzed faintly as he revealed his socks—charcoal gray.

“Well, look at that,” Serling scoffed, trying to save face. “He got one right.”

Hotch didn’t falter. “You match them to the color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts, and you’ve had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you’re frugal, but in fact, you’re having financial difficulties. You wear a fake Rolex because you pawned the real one to pay your debts, my guess is to a bookie.”

You blinked, taken aback by how quickly Hotch dismantled Serling’s facade. His voice was so composed, so deliberate, you felt your pulse quicken just listening to him.

Serling tried to recover, sputtering defensively. “I took this case pro bono. I am one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state.”

Hotch’s gaze remained level. “Your vice is horses. Your BlackBerry’s been buzzing on the table every twenty minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. You’re getting race results, and every time you do, it affects your mood in court. You’re not having a very good day. That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law: by always taking the long shot.”

Your eyes widened slightly as Hotch continued, his tone never rising, his words slicing through the attorney like a scalpel.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Hotch added, glancing at his watch, “the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

The tension in the room snapped taut as Serling’s BlackBerry buzzed on the table.

“Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed?” Hotch prompted, the barest hint of challenge beneath his words.

Serling hesitated, the weight of the moment crushing him. “Your Honor, this is…”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “What do you want me to do? Either show us your BlackBerry or cut him loose, counselor.”

Serling’s face flushed crimson, and after a long beat, he muttered, “Nothing further.”

“Wise decision,” the judge replied.

The faint buzz of the crowd echoed as the tension released, but you hardly heard it. You sat in your seat, your heart racing in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’d seen Hotch in action before, but watching him now—in his old stomping grounds, the courtroom, poised, razor-sharp, and commanding every moment—left you unexpectedly breathless.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the way you found yourself leaning forward, hanging on every syllable he spoke. You couldn’t deny it. Hotch’s ability to command a room, see through facades and expose the truth, was nothing short of captivating.

Your eyes darted to him again as he stepped down from the stand, his stoic expression unchanged as he resumed his seat. You glanced toward Spencer, who leaned closer to you.

“Hotch doesn’t miss,” he whispered, clearly impressed.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze following Hotch, “I’m starting to see that.”

The courtroom clears quickly for recess, murmurs filling the space as attorneys shuffle papers and families gather their composure. You remain seated, fiddling with the strap of your bag, trying not to focus too much on the man who just commanded the room with unsettling ease. Spencer gives you a brief nod before stepping away to speak with one of the victims’ fathers, leaving you alone to collect your thoughts.

It’s only a few moments later that you feel a presence beside you. You glance up and find Hotch standing there, his brow slightly furrowed in curiosity. He looks as composed as ever, but there’s a glint of surprise in his eyes.

“You’re here,” he says simply, though his tone carries a subtle weight, as if the words hold far more meaning than they let on.

You straighten in your seat, meeting his gaze. “I wanted to come support you. Both of you,” you add, gesturing faintly toward where Spencer had been sitting. “I hope that’s okay.”

For the briefest moment, Hotch’s expression softens. It’s fleeting, almost imperceptible, but you see it—the way his shoulders relax just a fraction, how the corner of his mouth twitches like it wants to smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, his voice quiet. “Court proceedings aren’t exactly a spectacle.”

You can’t help but smirk as you glance up at him. “Maybe not,” you admit, tilting your head, “but you definitely created one up there. Charcoal gray? That’s going on the list of James Bond moments.”

Hotch lets out a quiet breath of laughter, his eyes crinkling faintly at the edges. “James Bond? Again?”

You shrug with a playful glint in your eyes, your smirk widening. “Come on, Hotch. That was smooth. You had everyone hanging on your every word, and Serling? You had him spinning. It was impressive.”

He huffs softly, shaking his head, though there’s something in the way his lips twitch—amusement, maybe—that he’s not entirely immune to your compliment. “I’m really not sure I deserve that comparison,” he mutters, but his tone carries a hint of warmth.

“Oh, you do,” you reply teasingly, leaning in just slightly.

For a brief moment, he doesn’t respond. His gaze lingers on yours with that quiet, steady intensity of his, and you wonder if he’s trying to find the right words. Finally, he clears his throat, his expression shifting back into the composed, professional one you’re used to seeing. “Well… thank you,” he says, his voice softer than usual, almost as if the words are unfamiliar on his tongue.

Before you can respond, Spencer returns, slipping back into the seat beside you with an apologetic nod. Hotch straightens, the softness disappearing as his professional mask slides effortlessly back into place. “Recess won’t last long. I’ll see you both afterward,” he says, the even calm of his voice once again taking over.

“Good luck,” you offer, your voice warm. He holds your gaze for a moment longer before turning and making his way back toward the prosecutor’s table.

Spencer watches him go, then looks at you with a curious tilt of his head. “James Bond moments?” he echoes, eyebrows raised.

You grin, leaning back slightly in your seat. “You had to be there, Spence.”

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ok, I’m a little confused on how to word this request so bear with me.

Would you be willing to write a short fic about Astarion and The Main Character, sharing a tent at camp because relationship, and the main character giving Astarion a massage because he got hurt in battle, but Astarion starts moaning too loud on purpose, and making the other people at the camp think they are having sex?

I realize how weird and specific this is, but I love the idea of Astarion being an absolute Ham, and making the others uncomfortable XD

(Bonus points if the Main Character plays along)

LOL. Yes, I am willing. CW: Actually not many? Allusions to sex I guess? Maye spoilers to be safe? Brief mention of sadboy back story? This is honestly pretty tame.

~

Astarion wasn't against adventuring. If anything he was a fan, especially when comparing it to his old life. But he was only a fan when it was him doing the bloodshed, not when he was the one being knocked around into walls by massive ogres.

It hadn't been the worst pain he'd ever felt, far from it. But it had been fairly intense. Intense enough for it to take multiple tries for him to get back on his feet. And to have you fawning over him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You asked as the two of you entered the tent hours later, still hovering behind him, "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm fine darling," Astarion sighed as he plopped down onto his bedroll, exhausted beyond belief, "Nothing that a good night's sleep can't fix."

The healing from Shadowheart had done wonders, even if his muscles were still screaming at him. He was sore yes, but it really was nothing dire. But that wouldn't stop you from fretting, a fact that Astarion was a fan of.

It was no secret that he liked it when you agonized over his well-being. At first he had been a bit offended at your constant worry, taking it as a lack of belief that he could take care of himself. But then he realized you just... cared. About him of all people. Deeply and intimately, in a way that Astarion had never known, but one he could certainly get used to.

"Want me to have a look?" You asked as you sat next to him, your hands already helping to do the work of taking his armor off, "Maybe a massage?"

"That would be perfect," Astarion sighed, more than happy to let you pamper him. He had been hoping that you would ask that. You did have talented hands, "Thank you darling."

After he was divested of his armor you had him lay on his stomach, his back bare as you straddled his legs. Then you got to work, kneading his sore flesh like a pro. Astarion could feel the tension seeping out of his muscles. You really were so good at this, just one more perk of accidently falling in love with you.

He was moaning before he even knew the sounds were out of his mouth. But he didn't give it much thought, not when he knew you didn't mind. If anything you liked hearing him feel so content, even if he could get a little loud.

"Tch."

Astarion blinked his eyes open at the sound. Was... was that a scoff he heard? Astarion strained his ears, listening out of curiosity as you worked wonders on his back. That was one benefit of being a spawn and elf hybrid, he had vastly superior hearing abilities.

"It's happening again," That was definitely Lae'Zel's voice, the gravely cadence instantly recognizable.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!" He heard Halsin say quietly, only to be met by collective groaning, "Whiners, the lot of you. I would have expected better from you Karlach."

"All I'm saying is that they could pitch their tent a bit farther away, that's all!" She laughed back at him, "Can't a girl be a little jealous?"

"Or a little annoyed," Shadowheart grumbled.

"Or a lot," Gale agreed, grumbling in that very specific way that made Astarion want to slap the frown off of his face.

Astarion rolled his eyes, finding himself to be a bit annoyed as well. While it was true that the two of you could get... excited, you weren't that bad. And Astarion had made it a point to sneak you far away from camp when he really wanted to have his way with you. What more could they ask for? It just felt like envy at this point, an envy that Astarion was petty enough to resent.

"All I'm saying is if I lose one more wink of sleep because of those two, they're getting a piece of my mind," Gale continued, "I'm sure we all can agree on that."

Oh. Well in that case...

"You're so good at this my sweet," Astarion moaned loudly as you worked over a hard knot in his back, "The best I've ever had."

He could hear more groaning from the peanut gallery, but better yet he could hear the smile in your voice as you quietly answered, "I'm just happy it helps. You're so bruised sweetheart, I'm surprised you're still standing. Your pain tolerance is really something else."

That was unfortunately true, a natural consequence after decades and decades of torture. But at least it served him in his newfound freedom.

"Maybe I just like it when it hurts," Astarion groaned loudly, an obvious lie. Especially to your ears.

It was enough to have your hands pausing on him. You leaned in close, whispering a question in his ear, "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Darling, I'll do anything you want me to do," Astarion murmured, hoping that the ridiculous line would get his point across. And it did, of course it did. No one understood him better than you.

Astarion glanced at you as you leaned back, pleased to see the telling smirk on your face as you got back to work.

"Do you like that baby? Should I go lower?" You asked loudly, biting your lip near the end to keep in a giggle, "Would you like that?"

"Please," Astarion moaned out, only half of the sound faked. You really were just that good at giving massages. And the show you were both putting on was having the desired effect.

"For the love of everything that is holy keep it down!" Gale yelled out into the night, doing nothing more than encouraging Astarion to get even louder, "Perfect darling, right there. Gods, I'm close."

"Mm, flip over. I wanna see your face during," You shot back. Astarion could hear it in your voice, that barely contained laughter. And he wasn't doing much better himself. If anything he was a little surprised the others hadn't caught on yet. Maybe even a little offended. The dirty talk you had together wasn't this bad, a fact that they would know if they had actually ever heard it.

But before Astarion could belt out his big finale, the flap of your tent was being pulled open, Gale's voice yelling into it, "For the love of Mystra would you two shut up- oh my gods. They aren't even naked!"

That was the end of the façade. The two of you burst out laughing, you falling down to Astarion's side as you erupted into a pair of giggling idiots.

Karlach joined Gale at the door to the tent, her voice cracking halfway through on a laugh, "I told you they were hamming it up! Wyll, you owe me ten silver!"

Gale was already turning back, a pout on his lips as he muttered, "You're both lucky it was fake. We were five seconds away from sending Lae'zel in to shut you up."

"The threats aren't going to help my desire to continue fucking with you in the future," Astarion called after him, wiping amused tears from his eyes as they both stepped away. You turned to face him, still giggling up a storm as Astarion wrapped an arm around your wasit.

He kissed your cheek, still grinning ear to ear, "I think it's safe to say that I feel much, much better now."

[himasgod]

ANGST! Scaramouche x Reader

(0.8k words :p)

Where you met, after having been running away from each other for so long.

The gentle breeze of Sumeru caresses your face, but the air, despite its warmth, fails to dispel the emptiness you feel in your chest. You have been traveling for weeks, trying to forget. Trying to escape. Although, deep down, you know that you cannot escape something that lives inside you.

In front of you, a familiar figure stands against the horizon. His wide, extravagant hat, his carefree, haughty walk, everything about him speaks of arrogance, of an ironclad confidence that nothing could break. But you know better.

It is he, the Wanderer. Or Scaramouche, as you used to call him in those days full of betrayals and shadows. Now, nameless, homeless, it seems that he has always been on the run, just like you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, louder than you feel. Your voice trembles, betraying you.

He doesn’t bother to look at you at first, just keeps walking, his footsteps echoing in the dust of the road. Finally, his gaze falls on you, as cold as the blizzards of Snezhnaya. “Did you expect me to run into your arms or something? Ridiculous.”

You try to contain the trembling in your hands. You know him well enough to know that beneath that mask of indifference, there are overflowing emotions. Pain. Anger. Despair. Just like you.

“You’ve always run away,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. But something in your voice makes him pause, his eyes narrowing as he examines you.

“And you? What have you done but run after me, chasing the shadows of what you think I am?” His words cut like sharp blades, each one aimed to wound with surgical precision. But, instead of flinching, you take a step forward.

“You’ve been haunted by your own ghosts, too, Scaramouche. You can pretend you don’t care, that you don’t feel anymore, but…” Your voice breaks, and you can’t go on. He watches you, a sardonic smile curling his lips.

“Feeling is a weakness, don’t you understand? I’m a puppet. A being without a heart, without a soul. None of this matters.” But even as he says it, you notice how his fists clench, the small signs of an anger he hasn’t learned to master. An anger directed as much at you as at himself.

“If none of this matters, why are you still here? Why didn’t you just go into oblivion, like you so wanted to?” The silence that follows your words is overwhelming. You see the internal struggle in his eyes, the memories that torment him, the decisions that led him to this point.

Finally, Scaramouche takes a step towards you, his face closer to yours than it has been in a long time. “Because, in the end, even a puppet can hate those who made it feel, those who betrayed it… even those who tried to understand it.”

His words are cruel, but behind that cruelty you recognize the cry of someone who has suffered more than he would ever admit. The Wanderer, the being who gave up everything so he wouldn’t have to deal with the weight of pain, is still unable to break free from the chains of the past.

“I never wanted you to be hurt like that,” you whisper. You’re not sure if he hears you, but you say it anyway. He remains silent for a few eternal seconds, his gaze fixed on you.

“It doesn’t matter what you wanted. In the end, everyone betrays. It’s the nature of humans.”

You move even closer, searching his gaze for any trace of the person you once knew, the puppet who had learned to feel, to trust, before everything fell apart. “But you’re not like the others. You are not just a puppet, Scaramouche. You have lived, you have loved… and you have suffered.”

His laugh is bitter, almost heartbreaking. “Loved… Do you think that makes me anything more than a broken toy? Love has no place in a life like mine. It never did.”

But then you see it, the small chink in his armor, the vulnerability he has tried to bury for so long. And you realize something: he may be broken, but so are you. And, perhaps, in that shared brokenness, there is a spark of understanding, of connection.

“That may be so,” you say, your voice shaking. “But that doesn’t mean we have to keep running away.”

He looks at you, surprised by your words. For a moment, something in his expression changes, a shadow of doubt passes over his face. But, as always, he quickly composes himself, taking a step back, his countenance cold again.

“There is nothing to run away from anymore,” he replies coldly. “Because for me, the whole world has ceased to matter.”

And with those words, he turns his back once more, slowly walking away, while you stay there, in the same place, watching as the distance between you grows ever greater.

Perhaps he will never be able to free himself from his chains. Perhaps, in his endless journey, he is doomed to get lost again and again. But, even so, you can't help but call out to him one last time, with a small hope lit in your chest.

“Scaramouche.”

He doesn't stop, but in the whisper of the wind, you swear you heard a single word:

“Goodbye.”

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[rinstaro]

Tbh I don’t have an idea for this one kore, but smth horny asf with my bb time or even wild cause I’ve been having a bit of a rough time

hope ur well and thank you!!

-💫

of course, anything for you dear. this took so long!!!! sorry i’ve been so dead lately, life is tryna whoop my ass. i was playing botw and changed into the barbarian set and…… yeah. you know how it “bolsters links fighting spirit”? in my head it just makes him a lot more feral so it makes him horny too. i hope you like it! and i hope you feel better soon! i promise that these rough times will pass 🌟

cw: he’s a little mean, doggy, forest sex, reader is implied to be shorter than him, slight predator/prey dynamics, y’all are just messing around… or are you? reader has a vagina no pronouns, not proofread &lt;3

minors do not interact.

you played with wild’s stuff all the time. he didn’t mind so long as you didn’t hurt yourself. his swords, his bows, and especially his armor. no matter how many rupees he’d spend buying you whatever clothes you wanted, you were always fascinated with his instead.

his knights armor was heavy and sturdy. his climbing gear showed off his toned arms. his sheikah armor had you drooling.

the only set you hadn’t seen on him was the barbarian armor. you always wondered about the set. the headpiece was just a little scary, so you asked him what the armor was for when it covered so… little.

“it makes me a little more…. it’s easier to fight.”

he left it at that, but it made you curious. so it made him stronger, but you wanted to see that firsthand. you asked him if he’d put it on for you to which he shied away. “i don’t think you’d like it…”

you rolled your eyes, begging him to do it, just once. he eventually caved. when he did, you immediately realized why he was hesitant to show you his armor.

he looked fucking divine.

the way it exposed the best parts of him had you salivating. you circled him, trailing your gaze up and down his body. the tattoos that manifest on his torso and legs... you wanted to taste them for yourself. “i cannot believe you hid this from me,” you mumbled. you wrapped your arms around him, tracing his skin with your fingertips. you could hear his breath hitch as you teased him relentlessly.

suddenly he grabbed your wrists, looking at you with a hardened gaze.

“i’m not sure if we should… do that right now.”

you could tell wild was holding himself back, so you decided to kick it up a notch. you dropped to your knees in front of him, batting your eyelashes when he hisses. your hands trailed down to his thighs, nails scratching the skin ever so slightly. “come on, you don’t wanna have fun? at least let me– oh!”

the grip on your wrists tightened, and you were locked in place. your heated gaze met his, and you shuddered. he looked like he was about to eat you alive. wild’s nostrils flared as he stared down at you, seemingly trying to keep himself together. he slowly leaned down, eyes never leaving yours.

“sure, let’s have some fun.”

that’s how you ended up deep in the forest, heart racing and wild hot on your trail. this was harder than you thought, but it was definitely exciting. the deal he made you was simple. just a quick game of hide and seek.

“you get five minutes. if you win, you get your way. if i win, i get mine.”

you took off as soon as he uttered the word ‘run’, excited giggles ringing in his ears as he watched you. he waited til you were out of sight, and even gave you an extra minute. after counting, he started walking at a leisurely place in the direction you took off in, grinning to himself.

sure, this was a little unfair. you didn’t stand a chance against him without the set, let alone with it. but you didn’t need to know that. you wanted to have some fun, so he’ll entertain you. wild wondered how long you’d last when he finally got you under him.

you stopped to catch your breath, hands on your knees as you panted. surely this was far enough. you'd been running at full speed for a while, and you were sure at least 2 minutes had passed. you had to have gotten pretty far.

only moments later did you hear a loud “thud” from behind you. you spun around to be met with trees and shrubs, the silence making you uneasy. your eyes scanned the area only to find nothing. probably just some animal, right? even if it was, you weren’t gonna take the chance. you slowly backed away in the opposite direction of the noise, keeping an eye out for any movement.

when you turned back to run, you were met with the hard surface of someone’s chest. you groaned, rubbing your nose before your eyes widened at the sight of your boyfriend.

“i win, right?”

you opened your mouth to protest, quickly being cut off by him gripping your chin. his hold was gentle but the look in his eyes was anything but. “l-link?” he wore a twisted little grin, as if he’d just caught his first meal in days.

“so we’re doing this my way. i’ll still give you one choice. do you want it here, or do you want me to chase you back home?” your knees buckled at his words, your mind reeling. you couldn’t even begin to speak, sputtering out nothing but nonsense. wild huffed, grabbing your wrists and pinning you face first to the nearest tree. he pinned your arms on the side of you and spoke, “don’t move.” you nodded hastily.

“you know you look really cute when you run? it was hard not to take you right there. the wait was worth it, though,” he grinned. his fingers traced your spine, his hunger only growing as he watched you shiver.

wild placed a hand over your eyes and started trailing love bites down your neck. you whined. the bites felt hard enough to leave marks, yet you could still tell he was holding back. you pushed your ass back against him, trying to rile him up.

your boyfriend growled, suddenly biting down harshly on your neck. you whimpered loudly as your arms twitched with the need to move, which didn't go unnoticed.

"look at you, still trying to be a good pet. ah, its a little late though. you've already pushed me to my limit," he snarled, landing a smack to your ass. he watched the flesh jiggle, humming contentedly. without warning, your bottoms were ripped from you and thrown to the ground. the roles were now swapped, wild on his knees before you- well, behind you.

you felt him part your folds with his thumbs, watching your sex drip with arousal. you squealed at your sudden nudity, arms reaching back to grab him. he quickly put a stop to that, grabbing both wrists in one hand. "on the tree. don't interrupt me."

you obeyed his orders, bringing your arms back to yourself and placing them on the tree. once he was satisfied with your position, he gave no warning before licking a long stripe up your cunt. you moaned shakily, the pleasure between your legs making you tremble. wild hummed, tongue swiping across your clit at a rapid pace.

he ate you like a man starved, your position not allowing you any room to squirm. you moaned his name over and over, and it only seemed to make him more ravenous. a mix of spit and slick dripped down his chin while his nails dug into your thighs. he'd been waiting for this for far too long. "l-link, im gonna- keep going, please!"

your boyfriend wasn't listening to your whines, tongue fucking you until your eyes crossed. he was doing this for him.

only a couple moments later did you gush all over his face, legs shaking in his grasp. wild didn't stop even when you whimpered for him to slow down. he made sure you were licked clean before pulling away from your cunt.

"b-babe what- oh!"

you weren't sure when he undid his belt, but you felt the head of his cock push against your folds.

"you always taste fucking amazing. be sure to give me another taste later," he whispered in your ear. his buttercup blonde hair tickled your shoulder as he leaned over you. "that wasn't loud enough for me, though. maybe i just need to be a little rougher, then you'll scream for me right?"

without another word, he pushed his cock into your cunt making your eyes roll back into your head. it took no time for you to adjust to his size, and he took no time in starting up a mean pace. the sound of his hips slamming into yours rang in your ears, every pleasurable thrusts making your head spin. one hand left your hips to grab your hair, tugging slightly. you winced, the pain sending heat right to your cunt.

"oh, you like that? squeezing me so hard— so cute, baby, thinking you could beat me," he groaned. you could only respond with loud moans, your brain turned to mush. "sound so pretty, gonna cum?" you nodded frantically in response, begging for him to keep going. he watched your cunt suck him in, your ass jiggling with every mean thrust.

"p-please, feels good!" your words slurred together, drool beginning to drip from your chin. it was too much and yet you wanted more. he was hitting your g spot with every thrust, his balls slapped against your clit, and you couldn't imagine a better way for this game of yours to end. you heard him snarl before he picked up his pace.

"f-fuck! 'm my god yes!" a few more thrusts and you were spasming in between him and the tree. wild stopped his movements, relishing in the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. he chucked to himself as he watched you writhe. he suddenly frowned, realizing he hadn't been able to see your face when you came. oh, well. he'll just make you cum again.

wild pulled out, turning you around and staring you in the eyes. he then watched as your chest rose and fell, mouth hung open as you tried to catch your breath. the ferocity that was temporarily sated was now rising again.

you yelped in surprise when he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. your back rested against the tree as you furrowed your brows in confusion. "b-babe?"

"you're so gorgeous. how many times do you think i could fuck you til your legs gave out?" he questioned casually, a dark smile on his face. your legs clenched against him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders while he held you up by your thighs. you swallowed thickly, unable to answer. "hm? three? four? or more than that? well, i guess we'll see..."

wild never broke eye contact as he slipped his cock back into you, not even giving you a moment before fucking you at a savage pace. your back arched against the tree as you squirmed in his grasp. he pounded himself deeper into your cunt, his growls getting louder and your vision beginning to turn white. he was too much, fucking you so mercilessly and yet you couldn't bring yourself to want to stop. is this what he meant? he thought you wouldn't like this?

"l-link!"

"hm?" he answered, never faltering in his pace.

"harder!" your boyfriend's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he huffed in disbelief. you just continued to surprise him. he adjusted his grip on your thighs, leaning in so that you two were nose to nose.

"i've always wanted to see how much you could take."

[zomtart]

Unknown (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Hey y’all! So one of my favorite things to do writing wise is pick one of my favorite songs, listen to it on repeat, and write a fic to it lmao. So here’s that with Matt Murdock and my favorite song of all time, Unknown/Nth by Hozier. All writing is mine but of course the italized words are lyrics from Unknown/Nth, which belongs to the one and only Hozier (and Matt Murdock and co belongs to Marvel) <3 

I’m so sorry for the ending this was not supposed to end angsty but I had a prophetic vision I had to listen to it

Warnings: religious imagery to describe love, canon typical injuries/violence, death

Word Count: 1.2k

It ain’t the being alone

It ain’t the empty home, baby

You know I’m good on my own

You know, it’s more the being unknown

Sometimes, you terrified him.

You would say something, or do something, and he felt so…seen. Naked, stripped of any mask that protected him. You would never lay a hand on him, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any less horrifying. The fact that you could reach past any suit of armor, beat him to any punch, because you knew him. Sometimes it felt like you knew him even better than he knew himself. You saw past his attempts to push people away, to act cold and be alone. He’d try, time and time again, to convince both of you that he was better off by himself. It never worked. You weren’t scared away, and you had a way of making Matt feel like he…deserved to be in the company of you. To not be some anonymous figure drifting through the city. 

It was a shitty morning. It was too cold outside, numbing the edges of his fingers and the tips of his ears. He could feel the blood rushing to his nose, his body’s futile attempts to keep him warm. He was so cold he almost missed the scent of freshly brewed coffee coming from the office.

“Morning,” you said nonchalantly, gently taking his left hand and wrapping it around what he knew was a coffee cup. He felt frozen in place, but forced his mind to blame it on the weather. He could already smell it, but he took a sip before commenting.

“Peppermint mocha?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You hummed in response, already looking over the new papers on your desk.

“How’d you know?”

You just laughed a little, taking a sip of your own drink. “We’ve gotten coffee before, Matthew. My memory isn’t that terrible.”

It wasn’t the fact that you said his full name. It was how you said it. Softly and…reverantly. He’d compare it to a prayer, but it was more holy than that.

He murmured a thanks and tried to relax. Wow, he felt like it was losing it, and for what? Because you knew his coffee order? The four of you have gotten coffee together before for company meetings. You probably remembered Karen and Foggy’s order just the same. It meant nothing.

~

You called me “angel” for the first time, my heart leapt from me

You smile now, I can see it’s pieces still stuck in your teeth

And what’s left of it, I listen to it tick

Every tedious beat

When you discovered he was Daredevil, he expected a lot of things. Confusion. Betrayal. Anger, most of all. He never expected you to…laugh.

He was exhausted. Far too exhausted to do anything but stumble into his apartment, not realizing you had snuck in to surprise him for his birthday. It was a bit past midnight and you stood in his living room with a cake, confused at his absence. You were about to call Foggy to make sure he was okay when he stumbled in with a broken nose and too many bruises to count. You shrieked and dropped the cake, rushing to grab the knife on the counter to defend yourself against…

“...Matt?” you said incredously, setting the knife down and inching forward. He was in too much pain to realize the consequences of what ensued, and he could only let it happen, limping to the couch before he collapsed on top of it. 

You set the knife down and ran to kneel in front of him. You looked him over, at all his injuries and the way his exhausted eyelids drooped downwards. 

“You stupid man…” you whispered, cradling his face upwards, drops of his blood sinking into your palm. “You…you’re…”

“Halloween costume.” he managed, and you laughed, a watery, broken, sound that echoed throughout the apartment he lived alone in. 

You shook your head. “T-the Devil doesn’t take breaks? Even on his birthday?”

“Heard someone…they needed help.”

“You’re blind.” you whispered, looking back to his sightless eyes to confirm. “How…?”

He didn’t answer, just leaned into your hand that still held onto his jaw. After a moment his nose twitched. “Did you..get me cake?”

“Yeah. Happy birthday.” you said quietly with another laugh. The sound was like a balm to his wounds. It was better than any gift he could have asked for. “How did you know?” “It’s a…a lot to explain. We’d be here all night.”

“Don’t tempt me, angel.” you winked. Then you simply got up and left to get a first aid kit, as if you hadn’t left his heart beating out of his chest. 

That night, you didn’t ask anymore questions. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was so beat up, or because you were in shock, or because of what day it was. You bandaged him up and got him to bed. When you were satisfied with the amount of blankets he had you lit a single candle and sang Happy Birthday. Your soft voice was slightly off-tune, and the melody was occasionally interrupted with little laughs by the both of you, but to him it was perfect.

It meant everything. 

~

There are some people, love, who are better unknown. 

He had learned to regret that night. In hindsight, he should have known. He should have known that letting you find out his true identity would put you at risk. He should have known he wasn’t able to protect you, wasn’t able to protect anyone who got close to him. He had put on the suit to help people, but he knew now it only made him an omen. If the Devil was near, death would ensue. 

He should have known.

He should have heard the gun reloading and your footsteps pounding to jump in front of him. He should have never let you be there in the first place. You were dead, and the beating of his fists against your murderer could do nothing to bring you back. He killed for the first time that night, and he was all too aware of the irony. The person who knew him best was gone, and if she weren’t she would not even recognize him.

[smallestapplin]

one of the best parts of romancing a non human person is them giving physical parts of themselves to you in courtship

Zoras and Ritos incorporating their scales/feathers into armors, clothings, weapons, jewelry, etc.

a handcrafted gift would be more than enough for anyone, but it’s a sign that this was made by them for you alone

idk why but hair accessories and hair decorations get me exceptionally weak and swooning 🙏🥰💖

∾ 【 Rouge Anon 】

YEESSS!!! Thank you for the loz requests Rouge anon I love you

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Both Zora and Rito have similar ways of courtship, though still uniquely their own thing.

A Rito will soar into the sky, wings stretch wide as they pull off tight maneuvers, doing hard tricks in the air, all for you to see and impress you! Shaping clouds and showing off, just to hear you cheer. They will land in front of you, puffed proudly as you gush about them.

Zora will dive from great heights, jumping from the water they landed in to splash the water up as they leap and spin, making the air shine around them, showing you just how fast they can move in water and how fast they can get to you after such a show.

Rito split, depending on their personality, some will either make a nest to show to you, to get your praise of being a good home maker, or some will bring you nesting matierals so you could make the nest. If the ladder you are given many soft items, some of which belong to the Rito courting you, just so the nest smells like them.

Zora don’t have nest making, but they do have item making, whether it’s zora armor or some sort of jewelry with a shed of their scales or teeth, you will get a ring, bracelet, necklace, or earrings of one or both as the Zora lays a claim over you and shows the domain you are theirs.

Rito share that in they will gift their courted a plum feather of theirs, soft and plush, to symbolize how they feel about you and wish to grow with you in the future.

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Revali

The champion Rito is that special case.

Revali maybe a bit snobbish but this also get s applied to any gift he gives you, he needs them to be perfect and of high quailty for you, he will not accept any less for the person he is courting.

When preening his feathers, trying to make himself look even better, a plum feather was plucked. Holding it up he knew it was the perfect one, so soft, a deep pale blue, and one from his neck so it smelt strongly of him.

Revali puffs proudly, knowing exactly what he wants to do.

That following day you are gifted an earring of that very feather, with sapphires adorning it, not only to help you combat the cold but also something strikingly Revali.

Along with a few nesting items he had to give you, but your eyes could hardly leave your mirror just in awe of how pretty it looks on you.

“My, I’m glad to see you enjoy my work so much.”

Revali stands behind you, feathers slick as he stands proudly.

“How can I not? It’s so beautiful…thank you, this is a wonderful gift.”

“My betrothed should only get the very best.”

He’s so smug, he almost forgot you were human and had no idea of Rito courting rituals.

Oops.

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Sidon

Now, Sidon does too much, not in trying to be a show off, but just wanting to make sure without a shadow of a doubt that you are loved and very much wanted. From flashy moves in the water, to hunting a bunch of fish for you to show he’s a good provider, hell to even trying to subtly(not very subtly) get your measurements so he can craft you zora armor.

However he decides that’s not enough.

He crafts the zora armor for you very slowly because he’s using a mix of metal and his shed scales, making the armor red like him.

You will also be gifted a necklace, one of his shedded teeth, the sharpness of it is not lost on you, it’s adore with more of his scales and Topazes, to defend against the lightning.

Your jewels scream you are of nobility, even though you’re not and it’s just the king spoiling you rotten.

“Sidon, you don’t have to do all this just for me.”

“I must! I want the world to see you and know how loved you are, I can’t let you leave this domain unsure of my affections for you.”

He’s already kneeling in front of you, holding out a part of the zora armor, the red scales and chainmail glow in the dim light of the luminous stones of the kingdom.

“Please, allow me to court you and call you mine? It would be an honor above all else to awake to you.”

Sidon is a sap, he’s romantic at heart and just can’t stop himself from smiling wide as you agree.