#I never looked that closely at his character

[blacktabbygames]

A small content update for Slay the Princess just went live — The Voice of the Skeptic now accompanies you on the Deconstructed side of Happily Ever After instead of Voice of the Paranoid.

I’m not sure why I originally settled on Paranoid for that branch of the story. Maybe it was because Skeptic already felt overrepresented in The Pristine Cut between his presence in the Den, and his major role in The Cage split across three routes. The Cage in particular was a very emotionally taxing chapter to work on, so maybe I was tired of writing him.

But post release, it’s felt like:

Paranoid’s in HEA was just kind of there. At least, none of the things he does in the chapter felt important for his character.

Every voice gets an opportunity to truly shine somewhere except Skeptic. In fact, to push players to the cage, we wound up taking away one of his weirdest moments to shine from the base game (pushing you to take The Prisoner’s head with you.) Localizing the game means that redoing any dialogue is very burdensome, since I’d have to have it retranslated in all 12 of our supported languages, but upon looking more closely at the script for Happily Ever After, I realized that all but one or two lines felt more like they belonged to skeptic rather than the paranoid anyways.

And that when given to the skeptic, those lines don’t feel like he’s just kind of there the way it felt like Paranoid was just kind of there. The small wins Paranoid can get in that chapter — deducing the identity of the shadow; pushing you to blow out the torches — they’re big wins for the Skeptic, and the route seemed like it would be much more rounded if he was swapped in.

And beyond that, I couldn’t get the following line from the Shifting Mound’s monologue about the Deconstructed Damsel out of my head:

“Love melted into skepticism, and you pulled back layer after layer after layer until all you were left with was the knowledge that you did not know me.”

We couldn’t just use the word skepticism to describe the route’s entry point and not include our lil’ over-analytical guy. So we took some time this month to re-record those lines with Jonny and make the changes to the game, and now that itching need to fix “just one more thing” is finally gone.

This is probably the final content update for Slay the Princess (though, never say never I suppose.) Ever since we started work on The Pristine Cut, I wanted to end my work on the game with the conclusion of Happily Ever After. I’m grateful for the opportunity for that to finally be the case.

I hope to see you all tomorrow with Scarlet Hollow’s relaunch, but even if I don’t see you there, thank you all for the life-changing support you’ve given us. I hope our game means as much to you as it means to us.

All the best, Tony

[innuendostudios]

regarding Measurehead

I've been watching a max-stats run of Disco Elysium's fascist political vision quest - cuz, hell no, I'm not disappointing Kim myself - and the portrait it paints of Measurehead is fascinating. in the base game, Measurehead is just a comically contradictory roadblock to meeting with Evrart: the philosophy of white supremacy spouted from a massive Black body. most players will interact with him early in the game, usually in close proximity to meeting The Cuno, and he's part of what makes the early game seem so unreprentantly edgelord. the kid said the f-slur! the Black guy is a racist! har har!

I've never loved that this is the foot Disco puts forward first, but, on deeper engagement, the game always has more on its mind.

properly speaking, Measurehead is, at his core, a genuinely good and kind man. he gives Harry good advice about not living in the past; he loves and adores his mother; he has an unhealthy respect for his hard and distant father but recognizes he learned strength and self-respect from him, while nevertheless refusing to repeat the cycle of abuse; indeed, he recognizes the balance he feels in himself, the mix of masculine and feminine, of soft and hard, was only possible because his parents lacked that balance in themselves, that his father saw the loving softness of Measurehead's mother and pivoted to its opposite, denying himself softness and embracing the rigid and cold so that Measurehead could experience both; Measurehead has chosen not to have children perhaps because he knows he could not retain this perfect balance, would have to follow his father's example and embrace only one side of himself to provide balance to a child; and he knows this self-possessedness, this full knowledge of who he is, is what makes him appealing to women, far more than his physique or philosophy; and, by all accounts, he eats pussy like it's going out of style.

what makes Measurehead such a batshit character is how he has to contort his philosophies to make room for this, how malleable fascism and race supremacy ultimately are. he can't just not want kids cuz he doesn't want to repeat daddy's patterns, he has to embrace a philosophy of "semen retention" and deny himself orgasm, and he fits that with race supremacy by insisting the real legacy is perpetuating ideas rather than flesh. he can valorize his devotion to his mother and the sexual consideration he pays his partners by insisting this makes him desirable to women and is how he outcompetes lesser men. the philosophy of "balance of soft and hard" is how he can exalt his father as a masculine ideal while still distancing himself from his father's abusive behavior.

one could argue these are all perversions of fascist rhetoric, if fascism had any coherent rhetoric to begin with. Measurehead has grasped the nonsensical nature of race science and authoritarian logic and put them to his own ends, and, being a giant specimen of a man, he can more or less get away with it.

I don't write this as a defense of Measurehead, because, of course, he is spreading a fascist rhetoric that encourages all kinds of violence and bigotry in the world, and a man who is good and kind in the privacy of his mother's office but is a champion of subjugation when in public - especially when he is, in his bizarre way, a true believer - is no kind of decent. but I see it as a look into the utter emptiness of fascist thought.

the four emissaries of fascism we meet on the vision quest - Gary, Rene, the racist lorry driver, and Measurehead - speak a lot of the same words but, at their core, have nothing in common. they have all latched on to the rhetoric and bent it to different ends - Rene yearns for the monarchy, Gary wants a pat on the head, the lorry driver is an incel, and Measurehead is trying to self-actualize within the confines of hypermasculinity. the only rhetoric that can encompass all four is one without substance, one of infinite flexibility, that offers nothing more than the promise that you will get everything you want, and that directs your rage at something other than yourself.

in that respect, despite being perhaps the most emotionally healthy person in the game, I find Measurehead pitiable.

[acerikus]

not a kh fan or a pokemon fan where did the character kidnapping come from. it's fascinating to observe but i'd like to know why

okay so basically, theres a kingdom hearts mobile game called kingdom hearts union cross (khux for short) thats fully lore relevant (now out of service as of 2021) that featured a very very loved character named brain (yes thats actually his name). He looks like this:

at the end of that game he woke up in a new place we had yet to see and thats pretty much where it left off.

In 2022, they announced a new mobile game, called missing link. he showed up in the trailer for it, lots of kh mobile game fans were very excited.

the thing is. we were told the game was releasing last year. we had a closed beta for it early last year and then... nothing. no news. not even an announcement that its been delayed or anything. this particular corner of the fandom has been slowly going more and more insane these past three years. people have been starving for any kingdom hearts news at all for the past three years and brain fans especially seem to have been going insane.

this is a fandom who go completely off the wall bonkers with no news. 'stairposting' was a thing after khux dried up, where everyone talked about their favourite step in a. random flight of stairs in an area of khux. i am not joking. 'stairposting' is a whole-ass tag filled with khux posts almost exclusively, i just grabbed a couple but theres a lot if you search it

(first post) (second post)

lots of jokes recently about how hes trapped on the balcony he was seen on in the trailer this past week. ive seen 'roofposting' and 'balconyposting' for a while.

enter the new pokemon legends ZA trailer. we got footage of the game for the first time on thursday, as well as getting to see what the protags look like.

this is the male protag.

all of the missing link fandom has decided this is brain now, that hes finally free from his balcony and decided to fuck off to pokemon france since his game is never coming out.

people were making posts about him being trapped on the balcony THAT MORNING before the announcement, even. and you know what the kicker is?

they put this fucker on a balcony.

[urhandsmypockets]

you’re acting as if caitlyn manipulated vi into being with her when thats not true at all. caitlyn did so much for vi and never expected anything in return and it’s so evident throughout the show. also, comparing a real life thing that happens where a woman is stripped of her culture and heritage to two characters that actually are far from that is insane.

vi getting “colonised” is an extremely strange way to put it. you’re insinuating in the first two paragraphs that caitlyn seduced her, took her away from her home, and then left her with nothing when that isn’t true at all. caitlyn never tried to indicate that she believed vi “wasn’t like the other zaunites”, she never had any negative opinions about zaunites at all (shown VERY clearly in season 1 and even parts of season 2). her treatment of zaunites was due to her rage towards jinx, and you can say about how she used the grey to — basically — gas the gangs, but if you look closely you could very well see that the people featured in that were silco’s goons, the same ones that attacked vi when she was younger. she never hated zaunites: she hated silco and his crew. she also began to hate jinx for… idk… kidnapping her when she’s naked, psychologically torturing her and then going on to kill her mother (even if it was unintentional, cait didn’t know that). you say that cait “fully [expected] her to step away from her people” which once again is incorrect. cait didn’t expect anything of her and vi never stepped away from her people.

the quote, “even going against her own ideals by becoming part of the people [enforcers] who killed her parents” is linked in with the point i made earlier that vi never stepped away from her people. vi became an enforcer because of the part at the start of season 1 when she saw the zaunite in the enforcer uniform, right when they were about to attack. she couldn’t get there in time, due to being stopped by other enforcers at the barrier, so obviously this would’ve made her think “would i have been able to stop it if i was wearing a uniform?” — she wanted to become an enforcer because she wanted to help. she wanted to make sure the world was safer for both communities. also may i remind you that cait NEVER tried to force vi to become an enforcer — obviously she was upset at first but she hadnt done anything until vi had agreed to it.

you say that “caitlyn never had to change her mind about zaun the way vi changed her mind about piltover, and remained oblivious to her own privilege and her family's legacy on zaun” and honestly i have no words for this myself. you have gone outright to just take this character at no more than face value and have seem to completely forgotten the character she has been always throughout the show. caitlyn never had to change her mind about zaun cuz her mind about it had never changed in the first place; she always cared for zaunites and even when she was the “dictator fascist” everyone makes her out to be she was still disagreeing with ambessa and suspicious of her intentions. caitlyn has ALWAYS had known “her own privilege and her family’s legacy on zaun” she literally argues with her mother about it in season 1?? she had also worked as basically our equivalent to someone who gives out parking tickets because she wanted to actually earn her job??

“it's just that the sacrifices vi has made for cait, on her identity and on a moral level, has been completely one-sided.” is also, again, not true. caitlyn has made sacrifices for vi aswell. with what i had said about what jinx had done to her, she forgave jinx and made all the guards leave the cells so vi could easily leave with jinx, knowing fully well she would never see her again (“do you think i needed all the guards at the hexgates?”). she literally gave up her anger and resentment towards jinx after what she had done because of vi (go back to when caitlyn and jinx were talking just before vi comes along). this also links back with what you said about her being … “colonised” … cait never expected vi to forgive her for what she’d done, she literally said to vi she “saw someone” to push her away since she didn’t believe she could be forgiven. she does all this for vi and she expects nothing from her in return, it was vi’s choice to forgive her and vi’s choice to kiss her in the cell.

i completely disagree with your point here. i feel like you’ve taken their characters at face value and not tried to delve deeper into their motives and thoughts and feelings. i’m not trying to hate on you, but i just feel like going as far as to say vi was “colonised” is just… extremely weird to me.

vi got colonised tbh. it gives me that feeling when a rich white old man gets with a young SEA lady, brings her to britain and she only gets to see her family through facetime, and that's also the only time she speaks her native language because her man refuses to learn it

cait basically erased vi's identity as a zaunite. she loved vi in spite of that, instead of as a part of her. like how she told vi that she's not like the other zaunites, and saying 'i thought you were one of us' fully expecting her to step away from her people.

vi's been assimilated into piltover, even going against her own ideals by becoming part of the people (enforcers) who killed her parents, who were responsible for executing the systematic oppression of zaun. yet caitlyn's never assimilated into zaun, never even stepping foot into zaun beyond the first caitvi meeting and later when she was gassing the citizens. the show ended with vi living with caitlyn in the top 1% of piltover; no mutual exchange of culture. caitlyn never had to change her mind about zaun the way vi changed her mind about piltover, and remained oblivious to her own privilege and her family's legacy on zaun.

it's just that the sacrifices vi has made for cait, on her identity and on a moral level, has been completely one-sided. this, the imbalanced power dynamic and caitlyn's subtle prejudice against zaun (*) have never been acknowledged in the show. so for them to get back together and have their happy ending without some sort of introspective reflection feels. very uncomfortable. feels like cognitive dissonance.

(*) i say subtle because other than the warcrimes moment, cait often voices her opposition to extreme measures against zaun. however, she supports 'no extreme measures' and 'they are people too' as normative ideas, not really having the ability to recognise the violation of these ideas when it's in front of her and especially not when she's the one violating them. there's constantly an undercurrent of subconscious prejudice in her attitude towards zaunites, and just, a real lack of understanding

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn. 

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy. 

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match. 

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me." 

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes." 

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh. 

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them. 

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places." 

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm. 

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first." 

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?" 

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess." 

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys. 

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through. 

"How... er..." you think about it.  

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that. 

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you. 

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?" 

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength. 

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he? 

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory. 

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn. 

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...” 

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now. 

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs. 

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.  

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare. 

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so. 

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.  

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer? 

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.” 

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend. 

“A little, yeah. Work...” 

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts. 

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you. 

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.” 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...” 

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle. 

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.” 

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.” 

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do. 

“Table for two,” he says. 

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.” 

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench. 

“Booth alright?” 

“Sure is,” Steve answers. 

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus. 

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.” 

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you. 

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared. 

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman. 

“Red or white?” He asks. 

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve. 

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur. 

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder. 

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder. 

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls. 

“Sounds nice,” you nod. 

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine. 

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page. 

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.” 

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.” 

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...” 

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order. 

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type. 

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about? 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you. 

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth. 

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him. 

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.” 

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him. 

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.” 

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.” 

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth. 

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile. 

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.” 

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away. 

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat. 

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers. 

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff. 

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.” 

“To... us.” You echo softly. 

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer. 

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.” 

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle? 

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.” 

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt. 

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...” 

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much. 

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.” 

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel. 

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.” 

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.” 

[be-xkyy]

Yandere Platonic Twin Brother (a bit of yandere friend in love)

Warning: violence, blood, a broken nose, overprotective brother, a friend in love, a clueless reader but with strong character, This is PLATONIC and a little ROMANTIC but not with the brother.

(By the way, I was going to be inactive this month, but it's quite the opposite, why does inspiration come to me when I have so many things pending😰? I'm juggling the blog and school 💀)

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★ @minshookie29 ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Yandere Twin Brother who was already attached to you from the womb; when your parents went to their appointments with the OB they always saw him by your side even in an ultrasound (that your mother framed) it looks like you are holding his little hands.

Yandere Twin Brother who when he was born (just five minutes before you) cried at the top of his lungs and his cries only calmed down a little when you were born and he heard you cry.

Yandere Twin Brother who shared the same crib with you (although your parents bought one for each of you) when you were babies since he always cried if they separated him from you.

Yandere Twin Brother who comforted you when you cried on the first day at daycare because you missed your parents and you were scared; he hugged you rubbing your back with his little hand and promised you with his pinky that he would always take care of you.

"Don't cry sis! Everything will be okay, I'm with you. I promise I'll scold our parents for doing this to you! Please don't cry..."

Yandere Twin Brother who never let anyone bother you or get close to you at daycare; one day a boy pulled your pigtails making you cry and your upset brother pushed him to the ground and another boy approached your bully and bit him (two teachers had to make him let go)

Yandere Twin Brother who only had one exception to the rule and allowed him to get close to you; that exception was Jamie a boy his age who seemed enchanted with you and became friends with your brother after biting the boy who bothered you.

Yandere Twin Brother who from that day on basically spent all his time with you and Jamie; They were the three musketeers, as you grew up you became even closer (if that was possible) and Jamie's feelings for you became more obvious (to everyone but you) your brother liked to tease Jamie.

"Maybe my sister doesn't like you because of your idiotic face, she has good taste you know?"

"Oh shut up! I'm really handsome and she's just shy, plus we all know you're the ugly one of the group"

"EH?!—"

Yandere Twin Brother who like you and Jamie was quite popular at university; although he was surrounded by girls he never put them above you and always spent time with you; also he and Jamie were howling at your suitors constantly (much to your annoyance)

Yandere Twin Brother who got furious when he saw Jamie flirting with another girl and even kissed her, how could he do this to you?! (it's true that you don't even know that he loves you, but it's still wrong, okay..?) He approached angrily, when Jamie saw him she greeted him only to receive a strong punch in the face.

Yandere Twin Brother who started a fight with Jamie when he recovered from the shock of the blow, both began to punch and hit each other while yelling at each other, some students ran to separate them.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! YOU THINK YOU CAN TELL ME YOU LOVE MY SISTER AND THE NEXT DAY BE WITH A BITCH?!"

"IT WAS JUST A THING! WHAT DO YOU CARE ABOUT IT?! SHE AND I ARE NOTHING YET!"

"YET?! YOU THINK YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHING WITH MY SISTER AFTER THIS?! I'M GOING TO FUCK KILL YOU!"

Yandere Twin Brother who tried to break free to hit him again but they both held him firmly; a teacher arrived and they were both taken to the infirmary, a smile slipped across your brother's bruised lip when the nurse said that Jamie's nose was broken.

Yandere Older Brother who looks at you embarrassed when you enter the infirmary with judging eyes asking you both what happened but you don't answer and you end up asking them if they fought over a girl and they both answer at the same time exalted.

"NO!"

"NO!!!"

Yandere Twin Brother who ends up making up a random excuse for why you two fought and Jamie nods his head agreeing with him; you on the other hand look at them unconvinced before sighing and rolling your eyes; after being treated you both are called to the dean's office and end up being suspended for two weeks.

Yandere Twin Brother who when you leave the office approaches you along with Jamie who tries to joke a little about the situation (to calm the waters with your brother) but your brother ignores him taking you by the arm and leading you towards the exit while Jamie follows them.

"Well, it's not so bad we can spend more time together, right?"

"Shut your mouth Jamie, don't talk to this idiot sister."

"Hey, wait for me, don't leave me!"

[gf2bellamy]

Hello!

Can I please request domestic fluff of Spencer and reader just chilling on the couch and reading and reader is just giggling because she got to a fluffy romantic part of her book and she can’t contain her fangirling so Spencer just looks at her with fondness like “omg I love her so much 🥰”

cozy — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: literally just pure fluff a/n: hiii !! hope you like this <33333

Spencer sat on the couch, his long fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair as you rested your head in his lap, both of you lost in your books.

Spencer was fully immersed in a dense book on quantum physics, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, you were curled up with a well-loved romance novel.

The silence between you was a comfortable one, filled only by the occasional sound of a page turning or the subtle rustling of clothing as one of you shifted.

Then , something in your book made you giggle.

Spencer's fingers momentarily paused in your hair, his attention now fully on you. His lips curled into a small, affectionate smile as he watched you, so engrossed in the words on the page that you hadn’t even realized you'd laughed out loud.

The warmth that bloomed in his chest was immediate, filling him with a kind of quiet adoration he never quite knew how to put into words.

Without thinking, he let his hand drift from your hair to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The gentle touch pulled you from your trance, and you blinked up at him.

“What?” you asked, still smiling as your eyes met his.

Spencer shook his head slightly, his gaze lingering on yours, soft and full of affection. “Nothing,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Then, as if the words had been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the right moment, he added, “I love you. You know that, right?”

The confession, though not new, still sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt your cheeks heat up, the blush creeping from your neck upward as you fumbled for a response.

With a shy smile, you mumbled a quiet, “I love you too.”

Spencer’s grin widened, his thumb tracing over your cheek once more before his hand returned to your hair, resuming its gentle motions.

You moved your eyes back to your book, but you couldn’t focus. The words blurred together, your mind still caught on the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had softened when he said those three words.

After a moment, you gave up and looked up at him again, sitting up from his lap and turning your body to face him fully.

Spencer put his book aside, his full attention now on you. His head tilted slightly, a curious smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to speak.

“You,” you pointed your finger at him, trying to suppress a grin, “just ruined the moment.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his playful tone returning. “I ruined the moment by telling you that I love you?”

“Yes,” you nodded emphatically, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your mock seriousness.

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the couch cushions as he crossed his arms. “And what ,exactly, did I ruin ?”

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing again as you glanced down at the closed book in your lap. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

“Clearly, it’s not nothing,” he pressed, his tone curious. “You laughed, and then I ruined the moment. I think I deserve to know what was so funny.”

You bit your lip, debating whether to tell him. It felt silly now, saying it out loud, but the way he was looking at you—with genuine interest —made it impossible to resist.

“Fine,” you relented, sighing dramatically. “There was this part in the book where the male character was recounting all these little habits and quirks about the female character. Like, the way she always tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous, or how she hums when she’s concentrating. It was just… really sweet. And it made me laugh because it was so cute.”

Spencer listened intently, his head tilting slightly as he absorbed your words. When you finished, a slow smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“So,” he began, his voice teasing but tender, “you’re telling me that you got all giggly because the character was listing small, endearing things about the person he loves?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It sounds so cheesy when you say it like that.”

He laughed softly, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face. “I don’t think it’s cheesy. In fact…” He paused, his expression softening as his gaze locked onto yours. “I could do the same thing about you.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head quickly. “No, no, you don’t have to—”

But he was already speaking, his voice warm and steady. “You always bite your lip when you’re trying not to laugh. And you have this habit of tapping your fingers against whatever surface is nearby when you’re deep in thought. Oh, and you hum under your breath when you’re cooking, even though you’re completely off-key.”

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open as a mix of embarrassment and affection washed over you. “Spencer…”

He continued, undeterred. “You twirl your hair around your finger when you’re deep in thought. Oh, and you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re reading something intense. And you-”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, laughing softly. “You’re going to make me blush even more than I already am.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound warm. He gently intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m just saying,” he said, his voice teasing but tender, “if the moment was ruined, it’s only because I wanted to make a new one.”

You looked at him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“Ridiculously yours,” he corrected, his smile softening.

“Yeah,” you whispered, as you squeezed his hand.

And in that moment, with his hands in yours and his ridiculous, over-the-top declarations still echoing in your mind, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

[m00ntunaart]

Mandalorian characters as Wings Of Fire dragons? Uh, YES PLEASE.

Welcome to stage 5 of "MoonTuna draws the most self indulgent nonsense that no one asked for".

But anyways, yeah! My rambling thoughts on the characters and this AU:

Din Djarin (NightWing):

I imagine Din as NightWing because in this AU I picture the Death Watch/Children Of The Watch as the NightWing Tribe. And after the Death Watch’s war against the other Mandalorians, they go into hiding on the volcano island (like the NightWings do in the WOF books).

And Din is the tribe’s Beroya (Hunter), so he’s one of the few selected from the tribe to leave the island through the hidden tunnels to go back to Pyrrhia to hunt food for the tribe. 

During one of these trips I imagine he find Grogu! Who in this AU is a human (scavenger)! Because if everyone is dragons in this AU, then it just makes sense that Grogu is the human instead lol. Plus then Grogu is still small enough to be in a satchel Din carries around, like in the show.

But Grogu still has his Jedi powers in this AU. Which has never been seen before in humans. Thus ‘The Mandalorian’ type shenanigans where Din takes Grogu around trying to figure out WTH is up with this infant human.

(Also side note: in this AU I still picture there being Jedi/force sensitive dragons (the Jedi Order probably works similar to The Jade Mountain Academy. Where the Jedi are from all the tribes and live in the Jade Mountain. 

Also in this AU NightWings DO have their mind reading/future seeing powers. But like in the books, they loose them once they move to the island and don’t know why.

ALSO ALSO Animus still exists! But they work more like Force Sensitive where it’s just born in some dragons, and isn’t necessarily hereditary. And it’s SUPER rare. So rare that many believe Animus’s don’t exist. (I imagine Anakin Skywalker is the first Animus in centuries))

Cobb Vanth (Sand Wing):

Cobb is super straight forward. He’s a SandWing because he’s a cowboy from Tatooine. Of course he’s SandWing. Though in this AU I imagine he’s a lot like Thorn from the books, in that he’s the Marshal/leader of a town (Freetown) in the desert that isn’t under the Sand Kingdom’s rule. Also I imagine he’s one of the first dragons Din meets when he goes out on his journey to find information on Grogu. (Since the tunnels from the NightWing Island to the Rain Forest to the Sand Kingdom are all connected basically).

Boba Fett (MudWing):

Okay so Boba just had to be a MudWing. He had to be. Though it was less because of Boba’s character and more because he’s a clone. The clones all being close to each other, having battalions, and calling each other brothers? Uh, that’s like MudWings in the books to a TEA. So yeah, the clone troopers in this AU are MudWings, hence Boba also is a MudWing lol. Though I also liked it because older Boba Fett (and the older clones we see in the shows) are a lot bulkier and muscled with age. They get DILF bodies is what I’m saying lol (except for like Hunter apparently, he gets to keep his twink dad body). So the big MudWing body type works well for Boba and the clones. 

Fennec Shand (RainWing):

Fennec to me was a RainWing MOSTLY because as an assassin, her being able to camouflage and make herself look like other dragons was super RainWing coded. Plus having the subtle but deadly RainWing venom just matched her energy so much. Plus I love the idea that Fennec is kinda a “outcast” in RainWing society. Her ‘resting’ colors are dark, she knows how to fight and kill and LIKES it. She left the Rain Forest because the RainWing life style was nothing like her personality (very Glory from WOF like). Plus it plays into the idea that no one expects her to be dangerous or competent because she’s a RainWing, and then she murders you violently while still looking like a goddess (is my Fennec love showing yet? lol). Plus it’s why she and Boba get along, he treats her from the start like the dangerous criminal she is, and not like some ditsy RainWing. Also idk how Boba and Fennec taking over Jabba the Hutt’s palace works in this AU, but if so Fennec is definitely the one mainly running the show from behind the scenes. She was born to micromanage.

[teambyler]

The most hypocritical anti Byler argument:

"Why can't two boys just be friends? Why do you have to make everything gay!?"

Whenever I hear this argument or some variation of it, I think back to my two cousins, one a girl and the other a boy. (One from my dad's side of the family, the other from my mom's.) They were maybe six years old at the time, and they were innocently talking and playing and giving each other math and spelling-bee quizzes. ALL my family were giggling, saying they were going to be boyfriend and girlfriend.

I also think back to all the times I see young girls being judged on their physical beauty and told they're going to have a handsome boy when they grow up because they're so pretty.

From childhood, boys and girls have their sexuality assumed for them. Their SEXUALITY and romantic possibility are talked about openly in front of their face. They're made to look at themselves sexually before they even want to.

So when people yell at Byler fans saying "Why do you have to make everything gay?" I want to scream at them:

"Why do you have to make everything straight!?"

Why do you insist on sexualizing children to be heterosexual even before they're ready to start thinking of themselves in those terms?

Why do you have no problem with Mike kissing El in season 1 right after she asks him if he's like her "brother"?

Why do you idealize their relationship when they were children, while simultaneously trying to shame Byler fans for trying to "sexualize children" even though these are fictional characters and the actors who play Mike and Will are already adults?

Why do you shame any thought or possibility of homosexual romance, while imposing heterosexual norms on everyone?

It's exactly the same as saying "You can be gay of course... just don't shove it in our faces (by holding forth that you're gay, kissing in public, etc.)." When no one bats an eye when straight people do the same thing.

It's Straight Privilege in action: the norms and standards that straight people enjoy quietly do not to apply to us.

This hypocrisy even distorts how Milkvans view Mike and El. We're told that if Mike and Will get together, that would mean Mike "used El" and El would never be able to forgive him.

Not only does this disregard that people can have amicable break-ups and still be close friends: it also shows that the idea of a platonic loving relationship between a Mike and El is beyond their comprehension. To them, the only loving relationships boys and girls can have with each other are romantic ones.

(Now, before anyone objects: sure many people accept Robin and Steve, but that's because Robin is canonically gay. We all know that before she came out many of us (me included!) were shipping those two as a couple!)

If someone ships Mike and El WITHOUT her confronting him about his poor treatment of her in early s4, without there being an honest conversation about that, this definitely raises an eyebrow from me. The "love confession" didn't address this: fear of losing her did NOT explain failing to comfort her or failing to say he loved her. Theoretically it's possible for these two to repair things. (And if Milkvan is endgame I hope that they do by addressing this!) But for some Milkvan shippers the need to address Mike's behavior doesn't even enter their minds because they're idealizing their relationship. In other words, THEY are imposing their idea of a relationship on these two, much in the same way my family was imposing their own ideas on my two cousins without regard to the people involved.

So if anyone asks "Why can't two boys just be friends? Why do you have to make everything gay?" it's purely hypocritical and dishonest. No, we just want THIS relationship between Mike and Will to be gay out of a sea of heterosexual relationships on TV. No: THEY are the ones who rule out a boy and girl just being friends. THEY are the ones who insist on imposing romance on a boy and girl when they're not ready. THEY are the ones who insist on "everything" being one way.

-teambyler

[aspenmissing]

I don't know if you've done this already, but would you be able to write what the arcane characters would be like as parents? With Sevika and the usual characters?

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 7131 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴏɴᴇꜱ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛ! ɪᴅᴋ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a golden glow over the peaceful form of Jayce. His arm was draped over your waist, his breathing steady and deep. For all the chaos that Hextech and politics brought into his life, these moments—the quiet ones at home—were what grounded him.

A soft rustling from the adjoining room had you both stirring. You smiled as Jayce groaned, burying his face into your neck with a muffled, "Five more minutes."

"Tell that to your daughter," you teased, pressing a kiss to his temple before slipping out of bed. Jayce grumbled, but the sound of tiny feet pattering against the wooden floor had him moving.

Your daughter, whom you named Aline, was a bundle of energy with bright eyes and wild hair that matched her father’s. She peeked around the corner with an eager grin. "Mama! Daddy! Wake up!"

Jayce chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair before lifting her effortlessly into his arms. "Alright, little one, what’s the emergency?"

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Breakfast! I'm hungry!"

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as you watched the two loves of your life. Jayce’s expression softened, his love for his daughter evident in the way he held her close. "Alright, sweetheart, pancakes sound good?"

The enthusiastic nod she gave him was answer enough. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before setting her down. "Go set the table with Mama, and I’ll whip up the best pancakes Piltover has ever seen."

=

Breakfast became a ritual in your home. Jayce took pride in making the fluffiest pancakes, ensuring that mornings started with laughter and warmth. Your daughter often insisted on helping. She would sit on the counter, stirring batter while giggling at Jayce’s exaggerated expressions. "You see, Alina, the secret to the best pancakes isn’t just the ingredients, but the love you put into them," he would say, making her eyes widen with wonder.

Raising Alina with Jayce had been an adventure in itself. He was fiercely protective, always ensuring she was safe and cared for. He shielded her from the darker parts of his work, never wanting her to feel the weight of the expectations he bore. But he was also her biggest supporter—whether she wanted to build something in his workshop, learn about the constellations, or even practice fencing, Jayce encouraged her every step of the way.

"Daddy, look! I made something!" Alina exclaimed one afternoon, proudly showing him a small wooden figure she had carved.

Jayce knelt beside her, examining the details with exaggerated seriousness. "This is incredible, sweetheart! Your craftsmanship is already better than mine when I was your age."

Alina beamed with pride, and you watched the moment unfold with a full heart. There was no doubt in your mind that she had inherited her father’s brilliance.

=

One evening, as the three of you sat on the balcony, watching the city lights, Alina curled up between you both, sleepily murmuring about how she wanted to invent things like her father. Jayce’s grip on her tightened just a little as he whispered, "You can do anything you set your mind to, my little spark. And I’ll always be here to help."

You smiled, reaching for his hand. Parenthood wasn’t easy, but with Jayce by your side, it was the greatest adventure of all.

=

As the days passed, the bond between father and daughter only grew stronger. Jayce would take Alina to his workshop, where she would watch him tinker, fascinated by the glowing blue crystals of Hextech. "What makes them shine, Daddy?" she had asked one day.

Jayce chuckled, lifting her onto his worktable. "Well, sweetheart, Hextech is a combination of science and magic. It’s about understanding the laws of the world while daring to push beyond them. Kind of like how you build towers with your blocks—sometimes you have to try different ways to make them stand taller."

Alina nodded seriously, absorbing his words. You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the determination in her expression. She had so much of her father in her.

Jayce’s protectiveness showed in different ways. When Alina scraped her knee, he was there in an instant, lifting her into his lap and gently tending to her wound. "It’s okay to fall, sweetheart. What matters is that you get back up."

And when the time came for her to attend her first school event, he was the proudest father in the crowd, cheering her on as she recited a poem on stage. The love he had for her—and for you—shone in every glance, every reassuring touch, every bedtime story whispered under the glow of her nightlight.

=

One night, after Alina had fallen asleep, Jayce pulled you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Thank you," he murmured. "For giving me this. For giving me her."

You cupped his face, smiling against his lips. "We built this together, Jayce. And there’s no one else I’d want by my side."

As the city of Piltover bustled beyond your home, the three of you remained in your own little world—one built on love, laughter, and the endless possibilities of tomorrow.

VIKTOR

The soft hum of Piltover’s ever-present machinery filled the warmly lit apartment, blending with the rhythmic creaks of Viktor’s cane against the polished wooden floor. The scent of oil and parchment lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of tea that Y/N had left unfinished on the bedside table. He moved carefully, balancing his weight as he stepped closer to the cradle—no, cradles. Two identical wooden frames side by side, each occupied by two tiny, peaceful bundles—Mira and Alric. His golden eyes filled with an emotion so raw and deep it nearly overwhelmed him.

“Shhh, Moje malé hvězdičky,” he murmured, his accent thick with exhaustion and love. “Let your mother rest a while.” (My Little Stars)

Viktor had never imagined himself as a father. His life had always been an uphill battle, dictated by the sharp mind he was gifted with and the frailty of his body. But now, as he cradled one of his children in his arms, while the other stirred gently in their bed, he knew he had never loved anything more fiercely.

A small, furry creature stirred at the foot of the bed—Bramble, their ever-curious poro, blinked sleepily before rolling onto his side, his tiny paws twitching in his dreams. The poro had been a gift from Heimerdinger, a small companion Viktor had grown impossibly fond of, and now, he was just another part of their little family.

Y/N stirred from the bed, her eyes heavy with sleep but filled with warmth as she watched him. “You should rest too,” she whispered, her voice soft yet knowing. “Your leg—”

Viktor waved off her concern with a tired chuckle. “I have spent many nights awake for far lesser reasons than our children.” He settled onto the nearby chair with careful precision, adjusting his cane against the armrest before shifting Mira in his arms. Alric stirred slightly, and Bramble let out a soft, content snuffle before curling closer to the cradles. “Besides, I enjoy this.”

He did. Despite the exhaustion, despite the pain that often gnawed at his joints, there was a peace in these quiet moments. The way Mira’s tiny fingers curled around his own, the warmth of Alric’s small body tucked into the quilt—it was grounding, in a way nothing else had ever been.

He had spent years seeking progress, chasing knowledge and innovation with a single-minded desperation. Piltover was a city of advancements, a beacon of brilliance and invention. He had once believed that was all he needed. But here, in the soft glow of lamplight, with his children nestled safely in their cradles, he found something he had never sought but now realized he needed: a future not built on science alone, but on love.

Y/N smiled at the sight of him, knowing all too well that Viktor would deny any talk of his exhaustion, but that he would never deny their children a moment of his attention.

“You are so patient with them,” she mused, shifting to sit beside him, her head resting against his shoulder. “I think they adore you more than me.”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh. “That is impossible.” He kissed the top of her head before gazing back down at Mira and Alric. “But if true… then I can hardly blame them. I am quite fond of them myself.”

Alric let out a small noise, shifting slightly before settling back into sleep. Mira followed suit, her tiny hand grasping at Viktor’s sleeve as if she knew exactly where she wanted to be. Viktor ran a gentle hand over the soft wisps of their hair, his expression softening even further.

“I do wonder what they will grow to be,” he murmured, his mind always lost in the possibilities. “What they will dream of. What they will create.”

Y/N sighed, content. “Whatever they choose, they’ll have us to guide them.”

Viktor nodded, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his daughter. A silent vow, unspoken but deeply felt. No matter what came their way, no matter how difficult the road ahead, he would be there. For Y/N, for Mira, for Alric.

Because love—this love—was the greatest thing he had ever created.

=

As the night deepened, the city of Piltover carried on outside, the hum of its mechanized heart never ceasing. But here, in the quiet of their home, time felt still. Viktor sat there for hours, his mind drifting between the future and the present, between science and family. Every so often, one of the twins would stir, a tiny yawn escaping them, and Viktor would press a kiss to their forehead, murmuring soft reassurances in his native tongue.

Bramble let out a soft purring sound as he stretched and curled up closer to the base of the cradles, his warm, fluffy presence adding another layer of comfort to their little family.

Viktor thought of the future, of the knowledge he could pass on, of the things he and Y/N would teach their children. Of the wonders Mira and Alric would one day discover, the brilliance they might inherit. Would they take after their father’s ceaseless curiosity, their mother’s boundless warmth? Would they build, explore, create?

=

As the years passed, Viktor imagined them toddling after him in his workshop, their small hands eager to tinker with the devices and tools scattered across his desk. He pictured Mira’s determined frown as she studied a schematic with the same intensity he did, Alric’s laughter echoing through their home as he chased after Bramble in the morning light.

He imagined them growing older, standing by his side, listening to his stories of his past—his triumphs, his failures, the lessons he had learned along the way. He thought of their hands, once so small in his, growing stronger, capable of shaping the future as they saw fit.

No matter what, Viktor vowed, he would be there to witness it all. To celebrate their victories, to comfort them in their struggles, to remind them that no matter how much the world changed, they would always have a place in it—together.

JAYVIK

The workshop smelled of warm metal and ink, the scent a permanent part of their lives. The hum of Hextech crystals and the soft scratching of Viktor’s pen against blueprints blended with the laughter of their children—chaotic, beautiful, and ever-present.

Lucian, their eight-year-old, sat cross-legged on Viktor’s worktable, a small contraption in his hands. His dark brown curls bounced as he turned the device over, careful, yet brimming with excitement.

“Tatínek, do you think if I adjust the pressure valve here, it’ll make it faster?” Lucian asked, tilting his head toward Viktor. (Papa)

Viktor, cane resting against the table, gave a small, proud smile. “That depends on what you want it to do. More pressure might increase speed, but stability is just as important, můj malý vynálezce.” He tapped the blueprints beside him, adjusting his glasses. (My Little Inventor)

Across the room, Jayce sat on the floor, holding a giggling Liana upside down while Felix clambered onto his back. “Alright, alright, I surrender!” he laughed, his broad frame barely wobbling under their combined weight.

Liana shrieked in delight, her tiny fists grasping at Jayce’s arms. “No surrender, Daddy!”

Felix, the quieter of the two, pressed his cheek against Jayce’s shoulder and sighed happily. “We win,” he murmured, victorious.

Jayce grinned and reached up to ruffle Felix’s golden hair. “You’re getting heavy, kiddo.”

Y/N watched from the doorway, arms crossed, amused at the contrast between their two partners. Lucian, the child she and Jayce shared, was quiet, thoughtful, and deliberate in all things—so much like Viktor that it was almost eerie. Meanwhile, Nova and Felix, their wild, boundless children with Viktor, were a force of nature, as if chaos had been bottled up and released into two tiny bodies.

=

Viktor’s parenting was meticulous, full of gentle instruction and quiet pride. He wasn’t one for running around, but he made up for it with bedtime stories, soft reassurances, and a keen awareness of their children’s needs. He saw them, truly saw them, whether it was Lucian’s fascination with mechanics, Felix’s curiosity or Liana’s boundless energy. He had a way of making each of them feel special,

Jayce, on the other hand, was all action. He built pillow forts that took up entire rooms, carried the twins on his shoulders like a living jungle gym, and never turned down a game of tag—even when it meant knocking over a carefully placed stack of Viktor’s notes. He encouraged their energy, their boldness, and met their every demand for attention with laughter and open arms. And though Lucian wasn’t as prone to chaotic bursts of energy like his younger siblings, Jayce made sure to include him too—whether it was by playfully challenging him to engineering contests or scooping him up into a bear hug when he was too deep in thought. Jayce never let Lucian retreat too far into his own head, keeping their son grounded with warmth and enthusiasm, knowing how important it was to balance intellect with play.

“I hope you know you’re teaching them to be absolute terrors,” Viktor mused, watching Jayce let Liana climb onto his head.

Jayce chuckled, catching her before she could tumble. “Terrors? No way. They’re gonna be strong, brave, and maybe a little reckless.” He gave Y/N a wink. “Just like their parents.”

Lucian adjusted the tiny gears in his hands, looking up. “Tatínek's not reckless.”

Jayce smirked. “Not now, but back in the day? Let’s just say he—”

“Jayce,” Viktor warned, a light flush dusting his cheeks.

Y/N laughed, stepping forward to press a kiss to Viktor’s temple. “I think we all know you’re the mastermind behind half of Jayce’s past chaos.”

Viktor huffed, but the way his hand brushed against Y/N’s waist betrayed his fondness.

Liana and Felix, meanwhile, had abandoned Jayce and were now engaged in their favourite activity: climbing whatever structure was closest. At the moment, it was Viktor’s bookshelf.

“Felix, Liana—off,” Viktor said firmly, his golden eyes narrowing.

“Aw, but tatínek, we were gonna touch the top!” Liana whined, pouting. Felix nodded, as if that argument was fool proof.

Y/N sighed and shook her head. “If you two want to climb something, go outside with Jayce. The bookshelf isn’t a jungle gym.”

The twins groaned but obeyed, darting out of the workshop, pulling Jayce along with them. “Come on, Daddy, let’s race!” Liana shouted, and Jayce barely had time to react before she and Felix took off.

Viktor exhaled, rubbing his temple. “How do they have so much energy?”

Lucian smirked. “They don’t sit still long enough to lose any.”

Y/N chuckled and leaned against Viktor. “At least they make life interesting.”

Viktor huffed but didn’t disagree.

Their home was loud. It was messy. It was filled with Hextech parts, scattered toys, and the occasional faint scent of something burning (thanks to one of Lucian’s early experiments). But it was theirs. And as Viktor leaned into Y/N’s touch, and Jayce was pulled into another game outside, one thing was certain—

Their little family was perfect.

VANDER

The bustling sounds of The Last Drop hummed softly in the background, a familiar lullaby of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. Vander leaned against the counter, his broad arms crossed as he watched Y/N cradling their daughter, Reina, in her arms. The toddler had just begun speaking in full sentences, and tonight, she was babbling excitedly about the stories Vi had told her before bed.

"Papa, Vi says she punched a guy bigger than you!" Reina's big eyes shone with wonder as she looked up at her father.

Vander let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "That so?" He glanced over at Vi, who stood near Powder and Mylo, grinning with pride.

"You should've seen it, Vander! He was talking trash, and I—" Vi mimicked a punch, making Mylo wince and Claggor smirk.

Y/N sighed, shifting Reina higher on her hip. "And you taught her this?" she asked, her voice laced with mock disapproval as she raised a brow at Vander.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, maybe she picked up a thing or two from watchin'." He crouched down to Reina's level, ruffling her thick curls. "But don’t you go punchin’ people, alright? That’s Vi’s job."

Reina giggled, resting her tiny hands on his scruffy beard. "I wanna be strong like Vi and Papa!"

Vander let out a hearty laugh, pulling her into his arms. "You're already strong, sweetheart. Strongest little one I know."

Powder, who had been quiet up until now, tugged at Y/N’s sleeve. "Mama, can I braid Reina’s hair before bed? I learned a new one!"

Y/N smiled warmly, brushing a strand of Powder’s blue hair back. "Of course, darling. She’d love that."

"Yay!" Powder gently took Reina's tiny hand, leading her toward the worn-out couch where she often played with her dolls.

Vi stretched, cracking her knuckles with a grin before flopping down next to them. "You should let me teach Reina some moves when she’s older, Pops. She’s got potential."

"Oh no, no, no," Y/N interjected, shaking her head. "One brawler in the family is enough."

Vander smirked, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist. "Gotta agree with your ma, Vi. Though, I’ll admit, Reina’s got the spirit."

Vi huffed but smiled. "Fine, but at least let me teach her how to dodge. That way, she won’t get hit."

Claggor chuckled. "I dunno, Vi. She might end up better than you."

Vi gasped dramatically. "Betrayal!" She flopped back on the couch as the others laughed.

=

Meanwhile, Powder was diligently braiding Reina’s dark curls, her tongue poking out in concentration. "Almost done! You’re gonna look so pretty, Reina!"

The little girl beamed. "Like a princess?"

"Like a warrior princess!" Powder corrected, tying off the braid with a small ribbon she’d scavenged earlier that week.

Vander watched them, his expression softening. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he tried. He tried for the family he had built from scraps of a broken world. Y/N, the love of his life, had given him another reason to keep fighting. Their daughter was the very proof that good could still be found in the Undercity.

He felt Y/N’s hand slip into his, and he squeezed it gently. "Y’know," he murmured, watching their kids chatter amongst themselves, "I never thought I'd get somethin’ like this. Not in a place like Zaun."

Y/N leaned against his arm, her warmth grounding him. "You built this, Vander. Our family. You kept them safe."

He exhaled deeply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll keep ‘em safe always. No matter what."

As the dim lanterns flickered in the quiet of their home, Vander knew—he'd fight for them till his last breath.

=

Later that night, after the kids had been tucked into their makeshift beds, Vander and Y/N sat on the small worn-out couch in the back of The Last Drop. Reina was curled up on Vander’s lap, breathing softly in her sleep, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Y/N traced absent patterns on Vander’s forearm, their quiet moment of peace feeling almost sacred.

"Think she’ll be a troublemaker when she’s older?" Y/N teased, glancing up at him.

Vander huffed a tired laugh. "With this lot? No doubt about it."

Y/N chuckled, resting her head against his shoulder. "She’s lucky to have you. All of them are."

He sighed, watching the glow of the lanterns flicker against the old wooden walls. "I’m the lucky one, love. They gave me a reason to be better. To do better."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten in the warmth of their shared love and the steady rhythm of Reina’s breathing.

For a moment, Vander allowed himself to believe that they’d always have this—that their family would always be whole, safe in the little world they’d built together.

SILCO

Zaun belonged to the restless, to the desperate, to the ones who carved their names into the undercity with blood and ambition. It had no room for weakness, no tolerance for sentiment. The strong survived, and the cunning thrived.

And among them stood Silco—The Eye of Zaun, the man whose voice could break kings and whose hand could build empires. Ruthless, calculating, unshaken.

But behind the steel doors of his sanctuary, he was something else entirely.

He was a father.

Their son, Lior, was still small, still soft in the way all children were, but Silco could already see the sharpness forming behind his storm-gray eyes. There was a quiet weight in them, a knowing look that reminded him of himself. Too perceptive for a child. Too thoughtful.

Perhaps that was why Silco found himself reaching for him more than he should.

=

In public, Silco played his part well. He walked with Lior at his side, his long fingers resting lightly on the boy’s shoulder or curling around his smaller hand with just enough pressure to anchor him. He did not dote, nor did he allow himself the indulgence of affection.

He never called his name too sweetly. Never offered a soft word in the presence of others. Never let the boy out of arm’s reach, but never held on too tight. To the world, Lior was merely a shadow trailing behind him, his existence acknowledged but never openly protected.

Silco knew what weakness in the open could invite. The vultures of Zaun, and worse—Piltover’s wolves.

Lior never complained about the distance, never questioned the way his father’s grip remained firm but never too warm. But sometimes, when the crowd pressed too close, when unfamiliar eyes lingered too long, he would squeeze Silco’s fingers just slightly.

A silent question. A reassurance.

Silco would barely glance down, his expression never shifting, but his thumb would brush over the boy’s knuckles in a rare, fleeting motion.

"I’m here."

It was all Lior ever needed. But behind closed doors? Behind closed doors, he could not put the boy down.

=

The moment the weight of the world was locked outside, Silco would find his son and lift him without hesitation, pressing him against his chest as if he needed to reassure himself that he was real. That he was safe.

Lior never protested. He simply curled into his father’s embrace, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of Silco’s coat. He knew better than to expect affection outside these walls, but here—here, his father was different.

There was no cold detachment, no distant authority. Only quiet whispers and steady hands, the soft rustling of Silco’s coat as he shifted, adjusting his grip to keep Lior close. The boy’s head would rest against his father’s chest, his breathing slowing to match the rhythmic rise and fall beneath his ear.

Y/N would often walk in to find them like that. Silco seated in his chair, legs crossed, one arm bracing Lior against his chest while his free hand absentmindedly stroked the boy’s dark hair. It was an unconscious motion, a habit formed from a love too dangerous to be shown to the outside world.

"You'll spoil him," Y/N would tease, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, watching the way Lior all but melted into his father’s hold—a sight so rare, so fragile, that she never truly tired of it.

Silco never looked up. The only sign that he’d heard her was the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Then let him be spoiled," he would murmur, his fingers still threading through Lior’s hair, slow and deliberate. "Let him know his father’s arms will always be strong enough to hold him."

And hold him, he did.

=

On nights when the city was restless, and Y/N woke to the rustle of fabric, she would find Silco sitting at the edge of their bed, Lior cradled in his arms. The boy would be fast asleep, his face buried against Silco’s chest, completely unaware of the world beyond the warmth that surrounded him.

Silco would sit there for hours, unmoving, as though the slightest shift might cause the moment to shatter.

Y/N knew better than to say anything in those moments. She could see it in Silco’s gaze—the unspoken fear that clawed at the back of his mind. The same fear he never voiced but that always lingered.

He had built an empire, made himself untouchable, but power was fragile. A child was fragile.

And he would not lose his son. Not to the city. Not to fate. Not to anyone.

=

Morning always brought a shift in the air.

By daylight, Silco was back to his usual self—composed, detached but never unkind. Lior was expected to be observant, to listen more than he spoke, to learn the undercity not just with his eyes but with his instincts.

The world would not wait for him to grow.

Silco never coddled him in the streets. He did not scoop him up when he fell, did not shield him from the grime of Zaun, did not soften the lessons that needed to be learned. When Lior tripped, he was expected to stand. When he made a mistake, he was made to understand it. Silco never raised his voice, never scolded without purpose. He simply watched—waiting, assessing. And when Lior found his footing, dusted himself off and raised his chin without complaint, his father would nod in quiet approval.

But he was never alone.

Silco’s hand was always there—a firm, steady weight on his shoulder. Not forceful, not indulgent, but present. A silent promise.

=

Lior didn’t understand at first. As a child, he had only known that the streets were different from home. That in public, his father’s voice was sharp and cutting, his movements purposeful and unyielding. He was not a man who lifted him without hesitation, not the same father whose fingers carded through his hair when the city was locked away behind steel doors.

But as he grew, he began to see.

He began to notice the way people looked at him when they realized whose child he was—the weight of their gazes, the calculation in their eyes. He began to hear the way voices shifted when his father entered a room, the way some grew sharp with resentment, others lowered in quiet fear.

He began to understand why.

One day, when he was older, he would remember the times he had reached for his father’s hand in the crowded streets of Zaun. How Silco had let him, but only briefly—only until the moment passed, until the air grew still again. Until it was safe.

“There are people who would see you as a weakness,” he finally said, his voice even. “I cannot allow that.”

One day, he would understand that love, when tied to power, had to be protected.

The world of men like Silco was cruel, unyielding. It did not permit softness, but that did not mean Lior would grow unloved.

No—he would know love in the way only his father could give it. In the security of his grip. In the strength of his arms behind closed doors. In the quiet, whispered reassurances at night.

And one day, Lior would understand why his father had to be both things at once.

SEVIKA

The dim glow of the Last Drop’s neon sign flickered against the rain-slicked streets of Zaun, painting the pavement in a dull red haze as you finally stepped inside your apartment. The weight of the day pressed down on your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones, but the familiar scent of oil, metal, and smoke reminded you that you were home.

Sevika’s presence was unmistakable.

She was seated at the small, battered table in the corner, her usual spot, methodically disassembling and cleaning her mechanical arm with the precision of a well-practiced soldier. The candlelight flickered against her sharp features, casting shadows across the deep scars that marred her skin. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, focused on her task.

A small, warm weight squirmed in your arms.

Your son, Cassian, let out a quiet giggle, his tiny hands clutching at the worn fabric of your coat.

“Mama home,” he murmured sleepily, voice thick with drowsiness as he tucked himself further into your embrace.

Your heart swelled as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “I’m home.”

Sevika’s eyes flickered toward you both.

For a brief moment, something in her expression shifted—so subtle that if you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it. A flicker of something softer, something uncertain, before her face hardened once more. Without a word, she turned back to her arm, running the rag over the metal plating, the only sign of her tension being the slight clench of her jaw.

She never quite knew how to react when Cassian called you that.

You had been together for months now—long enough for her to get used to your presence, your touch, the warmth you offered despite the cold, unrelenting reality of Zaun. But when it came to your son?

Sevika kept her distance.

Not out of hatred. Not out of disinterest. But something else. Something quieter. Something like fear.

=

That night, when you were half-asleep, you felt the bed shift.

The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and a heavy sigh filled the room—one of those deep, wearied exhales she let out only when she thought no one was paying attention.

Through the dim candlelight, you cracked open an eye and found Sevika sitting on the edge of the bed, her broad shoulders hunched forward, her gaze locked onto the small, sleeping form across the room. Her usual hardened mask was gone.

For once, she wasn’t scowling, wasn’t exuding her usual air of indifference. Instead, she just stared at him—watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his little chest, the way his tiny fingers curled around the edge of his blanket.

Something unreadable flickered across her face. Something vulnerable.

Reaching out, you brushed your fingers lightly against her back. “You can hold him, you know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She tensed under your touch, her shoulders locking up for a brief second before she shook her head.

“I don’t wanna break ‘im.”

A quiet chuckle slipped past your lips. “You’re not going to break him, Sev.”

She scoffed, but it wasn’t her usual rough dismissal—it was hollow, uneasy. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, voice low. “I don’t do… kids. I don’t know how to be—”

She cut herself off with another sigh, running a tired hand down her face. How to be what?

Gentle? Safe? A mother?

You didn’t push her. Not yet. Instead, you curled up closer to her, resting your head against the warm, solid strength of her back.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Sev. He already has me. But he could have you, too.”

She didn’t respond. Just sat there, eyes still locked onto Cassian’s small, sleeping form.

=

The change wasn’t immediate.

Sevika was still Sevika—sharp, rough-edged, and unapproachable in the way only someone who had spent years hardening herself to the world could be. She didn’t know how to be soft, didn’t know how to offer warmth the way you did.

But little by little, the cracks started to show. She stopped avoiding Cassian so much.

At first, it was subtle. When he toddled around the apartment, chattering excitedly to himself about whatever wild, nonsensical things a child’s mind could conjure, she didn’t immediately leave the room anymore.

She lingered.

She would stay seated at the table, pretending to be focused on cleaning her blade, or adjusting the mechanics of her arm, but her eyes would flick toward him every so often, sharp and observant. It wasn’t disinterest—it was caution.

She was watching. Learning.

Trying to understand this tiny, chaotic creature that had somehow become a permanent part of her life.

Then came the moments where her presence became more than just a passive one.

=

When you sat on the floor with Cassian, rolling a little wooden ball back and forth, Sevika would pretend not to pay attention—arms crossed, expression unreadable. But every time the ball tumbled just out of Cassian’s reach, and he scrambled to grab it, she would watch closely.

And then, if he caught it—if his tiny fingers finally wrapped around it without fumbling—you’d hear it.

A low, almost imperceptible, gruff: "Good job, kid."

It was barely anything, really. Just two words, muttered as if she wasn’t sure why she was saying them.

But to Cassian, it was everything.

The first time she said it, he lit up, beaming so brightly it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. He turned to her immediately, as if hoping to catch her gaze, to confirm that yes, she was talking to him.

Sevika, realizing her mistake, grunted and looked away, pretending to be more interested in the scratches on her gauntlet. But you caught the way her lips twitched—just a little.

She was cracking. And Cassian noticed it too. Because after that day, he started looking for her.

=

"Sevika, look! Sevika, watch me!"

Every time he figured out how to stack his blocks higher, every time he coloured some messy, indecipherable drawing, he would turn to her. His little hands clutching whatever prize he had just created, his wide, bright eyes searching for her approval.

And for the first few weeks, she didn’t know how to handle it.

At first, she would only grunt, offering vague hums of acknowledgment, trying not to encourage the idea that she was interested. But then came the day when you caught her off-guard.

You had stepped into the other room for barely a second, just long enough to grab a rag to wipe down the counter, and when you returned, you found them.

Cassian was standing by her chair, holding up a crude little drawing in his tiny hands. Sevika, who had spent weeks acting like she wanted nothing to do with him—was holding it. Holding it with her flesh hand, turning it slightly as if actually studying it.

It was a mess of smudged crayon and clumsy shapes, mostly scribbles that barely resembled anything at all, but Cassian was waiting. Waiting for her reaction.

Sevika exhaled heavily through her nose. Paused. Then—softer than you had ever heard her speak before—she muttered:

“Not bad, kid.”

And that was the moment it all changed.

Because Cassian grinned—this wide, toothy, purely delighted grin—and without hesitation, he wrapped his little arms around her leg, hugging her.

Sevika tensed immediately, her entire body going rigid, as if the sudden contact had physically struck her.

For a split second, you thought she would push him away. Not out of cruelty, but out of pure panic, the same way a soldier reacts on instinct when something unexpected happens.

But then— She didn’t. She didn’t push him away. She let him stay.

And for a second—just one second—her flesh hand twitched, hovering awkwardly before finally, carefully, settling against his small back.

It wasn’t much. Just a single, brief pat. But it was enough. More than enough.

And as Cassian pulled away, his tiny voice filled with pride, he beamed up at her and said something that made Sevika’s entire world tilt.

“I like you, Sevika.”

You swore you heard her stop breathing. The words hung in the air for a long, aching moment. And then, after what felt like forever, she swallowed hard and muttered—rough, hesitant, but genuine:

“…Yeah, kid. I know.”

She wouldn’t say it back. Not yet. But the walls were cracking. And she didn’t try to rebuild them.

=

It happened one quiet evening, Cassian had been toddling across the room, his small hands clutching a worn wooden toy, the paint chipped and faded from years of use. He had claimed it as his favorite weeks ago, always keeping it close, dragging it across the floor as he moved with that unsteady, fearless energy that only children possessed. His tiny feet pattered against the old floorboards, his laughter filling the apartment, an innocent sound in a city that had very little innocence left to give.

And then—he tripped.

It happened so fast—too fast.

One small misstep. A tiny foot catching on a loose floorboard. The sharp, startled gasp that left his lips just before his little body pitched forward, too quickly, too suddenly.

Your chest tightened. Instinct kicked in, panic seizing every muscle in your body as you moved, heart lurching toward your throat—

But you didn’t get the chance. Because before you could even react— Sevika was already there.

She moved like a shadow cutting through smoke, reacting before thought, before hesitation could creep in, before the fear of touching him could take hold.

Her flesh hand caught him mid-fall, strong, steady, effortless, while her mechanical arm hovered awkwardly at her side, twitching slightly as if wanting to help but too afraid to touch.

And then—she froze.

Her entire body locked up, muscles tense, shoulders rigid as if she had just caught a live grenade instead of a child. Her breathing grew uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts as she held him—not pulling him closer, not letting him go, just holding him.

She was stiff, uncertain, like she had just realized what she had done. Like she didn’t know what came next.

Cassian sniffled, his big, teary eyes blinking up at her, tiny fingers grasping at the fabric of her vest in a quiet plea for comfort. For a brief moment, you expected him to cry—to reach for you, call for you, the way he always did when he needed reassurance.

But instead— He giggled.

Soft. Light. Completely unbothered.

As if being caught by Sevika, of all people, was the most normal thing in the world. Then, before she could even begin to process it— His little arms wrapped around her neck.

His body curled into her chest like he had done it a thousand times before, the kind of trust that was so pure, so absolute, that it felt impossibly heavy in a way Sevika had never known.

And then— One small, earth-shattering sentence.

"You're really warm, Mom."

Sevika went completely still.

Her breath hitched, her body stiffening as if the words had physically struck her. Her grip on him faltered for just a second—not enough to drop him, but enough for you to see it. That moment of absolute disbelief.

The way her jaw clenched, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, the way her entire world seemed to tilt beneath her feet. She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t do anything except stand there, frozen, as the weight of those words settled over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in something too big to contain. You could see it breaking her down.

The way her usual sharp, hardened exterior crumbled at the edges, unravelling into something raw and aching.

You had seen Sevika take hits that would have shattered another person. You had seen her face death without flinching, without hesitation, without fear.

But now?

Now she looked like a woman who had just been laid bare—a woman who had spent years building walls around herself, only for a single sleepy, innocent voice to tear them all down in seconds.

Her flesh hand, the one still clutching Cassian, slowly relaxed. Her metal fingers, which had always hesitated, always hovered just out of reach, finally—carefully, cautiously—brushed against his small back.

A light, almost hesitant touch. Like she was testing whether she was allowed to hold him. And then—so softly, so quietly, you almost missed it—

She exhaled.

The tension in her body eased—not completely, but enough. Her flesh hand shifted slightly, adjusting, settling, cradling him with more certainty than before.

Her grip, once stiff and unsure, became something else. Something solid. Something secure. She still looked overwhelmed, still looked like she wasn’t sure what to do with the small child pressed against her, but—

She didn’t let go. She didn’t pull away. And her eyes—her sharp, battle-worn, haunted eyes—shimmered.

She wouldn’t cry.

Not in front of you. Not in front of him. But you knew. You took a quiet step forward, closing the space between you, placing a gentle hand over hers. Sevika startled slightly, like she had forgotten you were even there. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, and for the first time in a long, long while—

She looked afraid. Not of Cassian. Not of breaking him. But of losing him. Of losing the one person in this world who had just called her ‘Mom.’ Her lips parted slightly, her voice barely above a whisper, raw and unsteady.

“…Guess I’m a mom now.” You smiled, your fingers squeezing hers in silent reassurance.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “You are.”

And Sevika— who had spent her life closing herself off, keeping people at a distance, choosing steel and strength over softness— Held Cassian a little closer.Not enough for anyone else to notice. But you noticed. And for the first time in a long, long while—

Sevika didn’t look so afraid.

[dreamingpichu]

I'm noticing a consistent problem cropping up related to Legends Z-A and that's the fact that people don't seem to realize that the rivals and player characters are in fact the same person.

I keep seeing people begging to play as the female protagonist and have Taunie as their rival not realizing that the female protagonist IS Taunie. Same thing goes for the male protagonist being Urbain.

This has been done before as well, it's just different this time because the rival character does look different from their player character counterpart. This has never happened before.

In X&Y the Calem you play as vs the Calem that acts as your rival look identical. Same hairstyle, same outfit. His rival appearance perfectly matches one of the three appearance options you pick at the start of the game if you were to pick him as the player character.

But Urbain and Taunie do look very different from their playable counterparts. It's a pretty noticeable difference too, so much so that the details that clue us in that they're the same as the protagonists are barely noticeable when you're watching a speedy trailer during a livestream.

Now, I am totally on board with AU selfcest shenanigans, but I feel like this is important for us to realize because I'm betting that GameFreak thinks we already know when in fact a majority of us do not. I've seen plenty of Rival Taunie x Player Taunie shippers that don't realize that they're shipping selfcest.

If you look closely you notice it:

Same eye shape, same brows, same haircut (that one is easily missed because Player Taunie is wearing a hat which covers up her bun and ahoge)

It's a lot more noticeable on Urbain. The swoop in his hair is so recognizable that even though Player Urbain is wearing a hat it's still visible.

I'm going to assume this is a Brendan and May situation. Where if you pick May as the player her father is Norman and Brendan's is Birch. But if you pick Brendan, his father is Norman and Birch is May's father.

It's a weird AU thingy where the characters are born to completely different parents depending on who you choose to play as. Only this time GameFreak gave their rival counterpart a different appearance to better match their parents so it doesn't feel as weird as the Brendan and May situation.

[annabe11aa]

idc, i’m just doing them,

1. yes

2. love it, definitely better than movie but movie has a special place in my heart

3. marcia

4. johnny, pony, two, steve, darry, soda, dally (as a dally girl)

5. two bit x marcia (marbit)

6. pony x johnny, cherry x dally, darry x paul (i’m sorry.)

7. steve and dally. omg. the shitheads would be best friends. istg. also two and pony??? like??? goofball x nerd??? i love them???

8. reading it in class

9. dally realizing he loved pony and his name being his final words

10. dally harassing cherry

11. very good but sad they didn’t recognize pony and sodas relationship, also, no full gang scenes???

12. no, no

13. johnny, ralph really captures the kicked puppy look and attitude

14. two and marcia dating😭, cherry and pony becoming best friends, johnny and dally surviving…, pony becoming so much more reserved after their deaths, pony never leaving tulsa (because he cannot leave johnny and dally.), the gang splitting after their deaths.

15.JOHNNY AND PONY WERE EACH OTHERS GIRST KISS. I DONT CARE. , dally secretly loves the ronettes, darry can sing, soda is actually really smart but is a hands on learner, steve and soda aren’t as close as they seem but are just work friends that don’t really have anyone else

16.STEVE AND DALLY. DAREY AND DALLY. ANY OTHER CHARACTER BUT PONY AND JOHNNY WITH DALLY

17. not having a full gang scene, seeing how they live together

18.shipping.. especially things that just would not be happening (tim and dally..)

19. no opinion? (i think it’s REALLY WEIRD that she named tex’s horse bl@ck1e)

20. steve. (always the forgotten of the friend group.)

21. dallys attractive but genuinely a horrible person.

22. steve, marcia.

23.no opinion? haven’t seen it or listened to it yet

24.none

25.want to watch it but haven’t yet

thanks for listening to my ted talk.

Outsiders Asks

Have you read other SE Hinton books

What are your feelings on the book?

Who is your fave character OUTSIDE* of the main 7?

Rank the main 7.

What are your fave ships?

What are some ships you dislike?

What are your fave non-romantic relationships? (This can be close friends, familial, enemies or even just acquaintances)

How did you get into Outsiders?

What’s the favourite scene/moment from the book?

Least favourite scene/moment?

What’s your opinion of the movie?

Have you watched the TV Show? Do you plan to? If you have, what’s your opinion on it?

Who do you think is the most well-written character?

Tell us five of your headcanons you basically see as canon

Five headcanons that are entirely self-indulgent

Which characters would you have liked to see interact?

Are there any criticisms or salt you have with the book?

Are there any criticisms or salt you have with the fandom?

What’s your opinion on SE Hinton?

Which character do you relate to most?

Unpopular opinion/s?

Who’s a minor character in canon who you have basically projected a whole new characterisation onto?

What is your opinion on the upcoming musical so far?

What are your hopes for the musical? What do you not want happening?

Do you plan to watch the musical? Will you get tickets or watch it online?

Reblog if you want to be asked these questions!!

*sorry this wasn’t clear before

[miange1]

if your requests are open , may i request a donnie fic where the reader (male) is kinda very feminine and donnie is internally homophobic but its less because the reader is feminine? im not really good at expressing myself sorry 🙏🏻🙏🏻 also smut if possible but fluff is okau too LOVE YOUR FICS MUAH ignore if your reqs are closed

DONNIE DARKO

feminine male reader(as in looks), this is short, donnie trying to make reader seem like a girl, it kinda works, bottom reader, donnie being a weirdo, fantasizing, oblivious reader, dirty thoughts but no actual sex, masterbation, other stuff idk

note: steady callin my phone i don told u b4 dat it's ova lea me loneeeeeee😩

you were pissing him off. it's not that you did anything to overall upset him, you were just..you. and to him, there was nothing wrong with that but at the same time everything was wrong with that.

when he first saw you, he accidentally mistook you for a girl who had grabbed the wrong uniform. was all the more confused when you came into the bathroom and started using the urinal. his crush for you instantly shattered, but only for a bit.

he had been confused and angry. why weren't you a girl? why did you have to be a guy?

he was starting to weird himself out, even when he'd found out sometimes certain thoughts would sneak through.

if you looked like a girl, then you'd take his dick like one wouldn't you? yeah, that made sense..

he'd think about it a whole bunch. think about his hands squeezing at your waist and plunging himself inside of you to make you cry out all for him.

your voice was beautiful, sounded like a girls too. "morning donnie!" god, why'd you have to do that? turn him on like that, you had to be doing it on purpose.

it was worse when you'd get close to him, made it look like you were flirting with him. "dude don't get so close man..that's weird." his heart would twinge each time your face would fall, and you would apologize and move away from him.

'fuck, fuck why did i say that?'

the thought of being gay was just too unnatural to him, he couldn't handle it.

after gym class it was worse. when you'd take your shirt off he could smell you even more. he saw your lips moving but heard none of it. his nose would twitch whilst he tried so hard not to stick his nose to your neck and inhale deeply. you smelled so good..like a warm bakery.

"donnie? you listening?" "yeah, keep talking.."

he took one of your clothes once, kept it and never washed it so the scent would stay on. he'd be obsessed with your smell, jack himself off. "pretty..so pretty.." even when he came all over his palm he couldnt stop, couldn't stop thinking of your body pressing against his.

the way your hair shaped your face, those soft features you had just made him want to fuck your face and make you take it down your throat.

"donnie, did you accidentally take my shirt? you know, the one with some cartoon character on it." he'd shut his locker, shrugging like he had absolutely no clue.

"mm..no, not sure i do."

[grandline-fics]

Love Potion

DESCRIPTION: Love Potion- You were both only pretending to date. The feelings aren't real...right?

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,663

A/N: Thank you @missrandomdreamer for requesting this one for the Valentine's Event. Hope you like what I came up with for this one, Smoker deserves the love so hopefully I did him justice on this. As always thank you everyone for your support. Enjoy ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

“Is this really necessary?” Smoker grumbled around the cigars in his mouth as he shut the door to your room closed firmly. “I’m in perfect shape.”

“Every active member on this base has to undergo routine physicals, Vice-Admiral.” You spoke up from your desk as you grabbed his file and a pen. Even when he was wounded he protested the need to be tended to and while you were already expecting him to clear all your checks with no issues, you still had your job to do. Apologetically you looked at him as you rose. “No exceptions.”

Smoker made a disgruntled noise and glared at the examination bed he’d yet to approach. He swiftly turned his glare your way when you snatched the cigars from his mouth with ease and stubbed them out on the ashtray you always made sure to have in the room in the event Smoker would be coming by. You accepted his ire with an effortless smile, used to his perpetual grumpy and serious expression at this point. Lightly you nudged him along towards the bed. With all his strength and training he could have remained rooted in the spot had he wished but at your touch he relented and moved, eager to just get this over with.

As he sat down and zoned out, letting you do whatever checks and assessments necessary he began to think about how being here was actually a nice break. You weren’t going to pester him about changing the training schedule or beg to swap missions with another member of the base, you weren’t going to chase him about reports he forgot-or just didn’t care about- handing in for the higher ups at Marine’s main Headquarters. Best of all, any conversation you shared with him was appropriate and never prying beyond clear boundaries, unlike those under his command who thought any facet and avenue in his life was theirs to know and analyse obsessively over. Suddenly you made a surprised hum and he pulled himself out of his thoughts to see you studying his face carefully. “What were you thinking about?”

“Why?” Smoker couldn’t help but become defensive, ready to argue that whatever you spotted or noticed in your tests was false. 

“It caused a spike in your otherwise steady blood pressure.” You explained, lips curving in slight amusement. Lightly you tapped your medical notes. “Can’t clear you if there’s a possibility of an underlying condition affecting your blood pressure or an area of stress that could hinder your work.”

“It’s nothing.” Smoker explained firmly. “Nothing for you to worry over. I’m not going to complain over something insignificant and stupid.”

“Wouldn’t call this spike insignificant. Come on tell me and I can help. It’s what doctors are for right?”

“I was getting annoyed about the subordinates prying into my personal life. They’re like gossiping teenagers sometimes.”

“Is that all?” You asked with a laugh, stepping away from him and unhooking the blood pressure monitor. “What do you expect? They’re bored in between missions and you’re the best source of entertainment on the base.

“I shouldn’t be entertainment, I’m their boss to be respected.” At that you snorted with an undignified burst of laughter causing him to frown. “What?”

“Oh come on! I’ve heard you swear out the higher ups countless times when they annoy you. You call that respect?” You teased, laughing again when he looked away from you and muttered about how even you were disrespectful to him. “So what did the bad subordinates pry into most recently.”

“Recently and consistently they bring up my love life or in their words ‘a tragic lack of’ one.” He scoffed. “Every mission it’s putting up with their incessant questions and on the way back it’s stupid schemes to set me up with someone.”

“It’s sweet that they care.” You reasoned only to hear him being to mutter again. With a soft sigh you grabbed his notes to update them. He was the picture of health as you both knew would be the end result. “But if it bothers you that much, take the mystery away from them and they’ll move on. Tell them you’re seeing someone.”

“Magic someone out of thin air?” Smoker shook his head. He shouldn’t have even entertained the notion. His life was his own, he didn’t need to lie or divulge information if he didn’t wish to. “They might act like fools but creating a pretend lover is something even they’d notice a mile off.”

“Sooo don’t make up someone. Use someone they know?” You advised, moving to your desk to officially give Smoker’s physical the stamp of approval needed. Seeing you move, Smoker fixed his jacket and pulled out two fresh cigars to light but for once he didn’t make his way to the door with a gruff ‘thanks Doc’ like he normally did, he was too caught up in your words as you continued. “Then after a couple weeks, stage a break up and they’ll leave you and your personal life alone while you deal with it in your own way.” 

“Who am I going to rope into this scheme that I know won’t blab what’s really going on?” Smoker asked while stepping closer to the desk. His interest was piqued and it seemed like a solid enough plan but he knew that gossip spread fast in the G5 base. The last thing he needed was to risk extra insult to his pride if his subordinates knew he was lying. Smoker was surprised when you lifted your head and smiled at him expectantly. “Wait. You’d go along with this?”

“Why not? Helps you out from getting your blood pressure dangerously high again.” You shrugged simply. “Besides, doctor-patient confidentiality means I can’t tell anyone. What do you say?”

A few minutes later one of the G5 Marines rounded the corner, preparing for his routine physical only to slide to a complete stop in shock. The sight of Vice-Admiral Smoker, his leader straightening from what was most certainly a kiss with the base’s top doctor. The Marine froze when Smoker turned sharply to glare at him while you bit your lower lip shyly and looked away from the wide-eyed gaze of the Marine who interrupted such a sweet and tender moment. Smoker dropped his hand from your lower back and walked towards the Marine. “Whatever you think you saw. You didn’t.” 

Smoker continued on his way, the Marine unable to see his smirk as everything was already set in motion. By the end of the afternoon it was all through the base, some iterations of the events witnessed exaggerated or completely different but it all got Smoker what he wanted; for his subordinates to have something to distract them from him. Technically they were still fixated on him, but now that they believed he was seeing you, they were now talking amongst themselves about the matter and leaving him alone. 

Throughout the day he’d overheard the conversations both mixed and speculative. Some tried to work out when the romance had started and even that split theories and opinions. It had to have been recent because there was no way you both had hidden it for so long. It had to have been going on for a long time because it would explain why Smoker never looked at anyone else both off and on base. Some even declared they’d always known something was going on between Smoker and you and either way it was about damn time. 

For the next few weeks you and Smoker continued your subtle theatrics of being a couple and as you’d predicted the base that now there was no mystery to work out with Smoker’s love life, the base asked less questions. However when you appeared, even if it was passing by in the corridor the Marines looked your way in curiosity. Sometimes you did steal him away to say something useless or unimportant, just so you both appeared to be sharing a quick moment together when really it was just to keep your audience’s interest sated. One evening you found yourself in Smoker’s office, a new development that had occurred from your joint deception. While he finished reports at his desk, you reviewed your own medical reports from the comfort of the sofa he rarely seemed to use. While you both worked you engaged in idle but content conversation. 

“A friend of mine from one of the G7 base was in touch today.” You spoke up with an amused smile, not taking your eyes from your notes as you worked. “We’re one of the topics of conversation there too.” Smoker chuckled slightly at your report of how far the gossip had spread. 

“The interest in our relationship hasn’t died down at all.” He said with a small shake of his head.

“They’re so invested. They’ll be heartbroken when we end things.” You mused, too busy reading to notice Smoker's hand still in the writing of his own reports. He only now realised that that was the next stage in the plan; breaking up to gain full privacy again. Smoker hesitated to even admit it but he truly did enjoy your company. You were easy to be around, brought him a certain calm that he enjoyed. He tensed slightly when you asked him. “Have you considered when it’ll happen?”

“Uh…no. Not yet.” He admitted, that much he could confess. “They gossip but they're behaving for the most part, might just wait until they start to get bored. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, just let me know whenever you’re ready.” Smoker glanced at you in time to see you finally glance his way and offer him a relaxed but warm smile. The same smile he found himself looking for a little more each day. Whenever he was ready? Something gnawed at him in the uncomfortable realisation that perhaps the only thing he wanted to end with you was the pretending. 

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @rosemary-lungs , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover , @yagirlsmuchelle , @engenemoazen , @sukunasstomachtongue , @nico-ith

[dindjarindiaries]

Eyes Off

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompts: “Are you jealous?” “No, I’m not!” “Oh, you really are jealous! Wait, why would you be jealous?” / “Look at me.” / A kiss of jealousy

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

"Of course that's what you're wearing."

Crosshair's unimpressed drawl drew your attention from where you were fastening and concealing your weapons. Considering everyone else had already changed into their civvies, it had to be Hunter that Crosshair was addressing, and one look at the sergeant proved why.

Whereas the rest of the team opted to keep themselves covered in a way that wasn't too unlike their Republic-issued blacks, Hunter didn't shy away from letting his skin breathe. His hands and arms were wrapped up to his elbows, but there was a sizable stretch of skin and muscle leading up to the light-colored sleeveless tunic he wore.

Tech had always ensured that the temperature of the Marauder's interior was regulated, but something had to have been off, because you could've sworn it had just gotten at least ten times hotter.

You were still staring, and Force willing not ogling, as Hunter raised his hands defensively at Crosshair. "What?"

Crosshair scoffed as he shouldered on his pack. He lifted a single eyebrow and flicked his toothpick at his brother. It bounced unceremoniously off one of Hunter's tensed biceps.

The sergeant just smirked in response and shrugged. "I earned 'em." His tone was playful as he lifted his own pack and secured it over his shoulders. "I think I'm entitled to showing 'em off for once."

And thank the Force you did, you would have said if you didn't already have a durasteel lock on your own jaw.

"Ha-ha, yeah!" Wrecker clapped his brother on the shoulder. Hunter rolled it back in response, but nevertheless widened his sly smile as he looked up at Wrecker. "I think ya' look great, Sarge." Wrecker then turned his attention on you, giving your shoulder a nudge with his own. "Right, Sunny?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, but only for a quick moment. Subtlety had never been Wrecker's specialty, and you should have remembered that when you had stayed at 79's until last call with him and spilled out all your secrets. That's what you got for indulging in truth serum for once.

You schooled your expression into nonchalance the best you could and nodded. "Yeah." You lifted your blaster and gave it one last unnecessary check. "It definitely suits you."

Hunter huffed. "I don't even want to know what you mean by that." You snorted in amusement before Hunter refocused and addressed the gathered squad. "We shouldn't be here long, especially since we're dividing and conquering. Tech, Wrecker, you're clear on your objective?"

Tech looked up from his datapad and nodded as he adjusted his goggles. "That is correct."

Wrecker gestured over to Tech with his thumb. "What he said."

Hunter nodded at them both. "Great." He turned to his youngest brother. "Crosshair?"

Crosshair's brow rose once again. "Do you really have to ask?"

Hunter participated in their typical impromptu staring contest for a few heartbeats before he let out a sigh. "I'm taking that as a yes." His attention then shifted to you, and you fought a hard-won battle to not take a visible breath as his dark eyes found yours. "Sunny, you're with me." Hunter motioned for the squad to follow as he stepped towards the open hatch. "Let's move out."

You kept your attention on the way ahead as the squad walked out of the hangar together and through the throngs of sentients that crowded the planet's streets. Eventually, as you and Hunter got closer to your own destination, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair peeled off to attend to their own objectives. You tried not to tense as you kept yourself close to Hunter's side.

"Hmm." Hunter's hum got your attention, and you looked over to see his brow creased the way it often did when he was reaching out with his senses. "It's gonna be crowded in there." He gave you a glance and nodded. "Stay close. We might have to push our way through."

You nodded and obeyed, getting close enough for one of his arms to brush against yours. It was hard to focus with the warmth of his skin meeting yours in endless succession, but you threw your mindset into the mission as the two of you stepped inside the cantina.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, you could feel the eyes on you—only they weren't on you specifically. They were on him.

You could have accredited the lingering stares to the fact that Hunter presented much more like a regular clone than the others, and he may have been getting some undue attention for that, but you could identify the kind of looks he was getting all too well. Gazes flickered up and down, heads did double takes, and some people even giggled with their peers.

You should have found it amusing. The others certainly would have if they were there. Instead, it filled you with a pool of a sickly feeling almost like dread, coiling in your stomach and twisting into an uncomfortable knot.

It was an unmistakable wave of intense jealousy, and you weren't strong enough to fight it.

You were drawing yourself even closer to Hunter's side before you could stop it, your eyes cautiously scanning your surroundings as you did so. Another strong flare of jealousy's angry green haze saw you taking his arm and wrapping your hands around it, securing you to his side as you smiled in satisfaction at the way many of the hungry scares awkwardly flickered away from the two of you.

But your actions didn't go unnoticed by him. Hunter stopped pushing through the crowd long enough to turn his head and look at you with his full attention. "You okay?"

You looked up at him with innocent eyes, and his gaze gestured to the grasp you still had on his arm. You offered him a quick nod. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just..." You glanced around the room again. "A little overwhelmed."

Hunter's warm eyes studied yours as he softened. "I get it. We won't be here long, though, like I said before." He nodded towards the bar. "C'mon. We're almost there."

You went forward with him, selfishly indulging in the feeling of his warmth—and the arm you still had a tight grasp on. You were pleased to note it was just as strong and solid as it had looked.

Once Hunter had successfully maneuvered your way to the bar and had made enough room for the two of you there, you reluctantly let go of his arm and simply stood at his side. Your arms were still brushing at the close proximity, your focus was still going to any wandering eyes that caught sight of him.

You should have been focused on the objective and helping Hunter get information out of the bartender, but you had other priorities. Like Hunter had insinuated before, he had worn what he was wearing for a reason. Did that mean he wanted one of these people to approach him?

The thought alone made you sick. It shouldn't have, because you weren't his and he wasn't yours, but that didn't matter.

"You sure you're okay?"

Hunter's low voice of concern brought your attention back to him. You glanced over to see him furrowing his brow at you.

"You seem on edge."

You shrugged and looked past the sergeant, seeing someone just behind him staring holes through his back. You fought back a growl and forced yourself to answer normally. "I'm just seeing a lot of eyes on you." You blinked and quickly rushed to correct yourself. "Us."

But the damage had already been done. One of Hunter's eyebrows shot up in suspicion as he continued to look at you. "That's nothing new, especially not for me."

You circled your jaw. "Yeah, but..." Your gaze flickered over him before you could stop it. "It's different this time."

Hunter looked ahead, his expression taut as he pondered something, and then you saw his dark eyes light up with realization. You winced quietly before he even had the chance to speak.

"Wait." He looked over at you again, the small pieces of hair that escaped his bandana bouncing on his forehead as the corners of his lips rose in a small smile. "Are you jealous?"

You forced out a scoff and began to flounder. "No, I’m not!" You looked down, your gaze searching. "I-I'm just..."

It was too late. You were too flustered to think of a viable excuse, and your ears and face were burning so hot that you were half-convinced Hunter's senses had already picked up on the temperature change.

"Oh, you really are jealous." Hunter said the words with a chuckle, and his bare shoulder playfully nudged yours.

You fought off the sudden waves of embarrassment valiantly and looked anywhere but at him. He was clearly still joking, and you were stuck between playing it off again or at least wanting him to put the pieces together. This one-sided thing you had going on was getting too exhausting.

That made his next words even less of a surprise than they probably should have been. "Wait... why would you be jealous?"

Your gaze flickered over to meet Hunter's, but you looked away from him just as quickly. Your stare focused on your fingers as they picked at the skin around your nails. This was not a conversation you wanted to have here, especially not when he was looking like that.

"Hey." Hunter's voice was achingly soft now as he set a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Look at me."

You relented, your guilty gaze finding his—which was full of comfort and, surprisingly, understanding. Your brow knit together, though the knot in your stomach began to loosen when Hunter's hand suddenly moved from your shoulder to the one you had closest to him on the bar. His stare lowered and watched as his wrapped hand wove his fingers through yours and gave your own hand a soft squeeze.

Hunter looked at you again, and he gave you a reassuring nod. "You have nothing to worry about."

All you could do was blink at him, any words you could have possibly wanted to say dying on your tongue. You were trying to read him and make sure you weren't misinterpreting the signals he was sending you. Was he saying that because he had requited feelings, or just to assure you that he wasn't looking for anything from anyone?

Hunter huffed and gave his head a fond shake. "You've been noticing the eyes on me, and I..." He paused, his jaw tightened as he narrowed his eyes at something behind you. "Have been tracking the eyes on you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. You must have been so wrapped up in your jealousy towards Hunter that you failed to notice how people had been looking at you, too. Your civvies did hug your body in a way your typical tactical gear didn't...

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You had no choice but to ask. You couldn't live with the anticipation anymore.

Hunter nodded and looked at your entwined hands again. He gave yours another squeeze. "The feeling's mutual."

You couldn't keep the smile from growing on your lips. Honestly, you should have known better, but reason and feelings never paired well together, anyway. All you could do was let out a soft laugh as you also looked down at your hands.

"What do you think?"

When Hunter spoke again, you looked up, suddenly realizing how much closer the two of you had gotten. Hunter clocked the minimized distance, too, his warm gaze flickering to your lips before he went on.

"Should we give them something else to stare at?"

You hummed, pretending to have to consider the offer even as your traitorous body already started to lean closer. "I think that's a good plan, Sarge."

Hunter chuckled, though the warmth that sound brought you was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours.

You inhaled one another like it was your first full breath of oxygen, with Hunter's free hand catching the side of your face and jaw to keep you locked in place. Meanwhile, your free hand rose to his bicep, anchoring yourself to him as each breath passed between you and each tease of his tongue threatened to make your knees buckle underneath you. It was utterly dizzying, and it made you completely forget about everything and everyone else around you, for better or for worse.

When you parted, Hunter was quick to clock the sight of your hand on his arm. His lips gave way to a sly smile, and your brow shot up as you mused upon his words from earlier.

"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" You shook your head at him in fondness. "I was the person you were 'showing 'em off' for."

Hunter shrugged, playing innocent for now. "Maybe, maybe not."

You scoffed. "Do we even have a real objective here?"

"Well, we did." He gave your hand another squeeze. "But we just completed it."

You gave your eyes a roll. "Force, Hunter..."

"The others' objectives are real, though."

You couldn't help laughing at that. Leave it to the sergeant of the Bad Batch to use an actual mission as a way to somehow get you both to finally break the ice. "And the bartender?" You nodded towards the nearest one. "You just made that up?"

"Not really." Hunter's smirk remained as he caught the bartender's eye. "I do need to talk to them... to get us some drinks."

You blinked at him before you laughed even harder. You shifted your hand onto the arm closest to you and rested your head against his bare shoulder the best you could manage, relishing in the wave of content that rolled over you.

It was an unconventional way for your mutual feelings to surface, but that was just who Hunter was, and you couldn't hide the way you loved it.

[bunni-v1]

MORE JEALOUS PURE VANILLA COOKIE OMGGGG he'd totally be a jealous person despite his kindness

kinda imagining that in the stage during the push and pull he was doing, trying to push you away, you become quite close to some other cookies in the kingdom, specifically the creme Republic (clotted cream and financier) and he just gets.... uncomfortable when you two are FINALLY together because you're so friendly with clotted cream and his bodyguard.... like, hello.........

his eyes narrow slightly, and it just makes him feel so unpleasant, knowing that clotted cream cookie can easily strike up conversation with you and randomly tell him something you like—it makes his dough seethe slightly, whether he wants to admit it or not. or how financier and some random vanilla kingdom npcs mention a fact about you he coincidentally doesn't know because he was busy going through it and pushing you away before; OUGHHHHHH

i like to think white lily is involved in this in some way? he can't fully get over her and sometimes he tends to get passive about your very real concerns about how he looks at her as though he has something to say, i wonder how he would react if he finds you actually a bit insecure or unsure whether he'd pick you over her......... since he still cares deeply about his once first love, no?

anyways. yes. jealous PV is a concept that sticks heavily in my mind rn

-🃏

Jealousy Looks Ugly on You

🍓Hi pookiebear, I'm so sorry for 100% butchering the Creme Republic. I refuse to play that shit, even for that stupid blonde twink. Note, this takes place significantly after the events of Beast Yeast, so White Lily is technically visiting as a diplomat from the Faerie kingdom, and pv has already had his character development lol. Assumptions are made, and there is heavily implied past PureLily.

Tw: Poor communication; jealousy; implications at the very end; grammar/spelling errors

Info: Pure Vanilla x Reader; Implied past purelily; angst (not really though); fluff

Patience is a virtue that few cookies can claim to have. It's something that doesn't come easy to most, and Pure Vanilla Cookie has never judged anyone for being unable to hold themselves back from frustration. Except... himself of course.

He was exceptionally patient, to the point most gawked at him for his gentleness and understanding in certain situations. He held himself to a higher standard, and very few things brought out irritation in him. So... why exactly was the sight of Clotted Cream Cookie making his dough run so hot right now?

It wasn't as though Clotted Cream was doing anything offensive, quite the opposite actually. He was having a pleasant conversation, all warm smiles and... gentle touches. With who? Oh. Just the object of Pure Vanilla's deepest affections, the cookie he'd only recently been able to call his other half, his dearly beloved you.

Clotted Cream seems to speak to you with such familiarity, such warmth like perhaps he too harbors some kind of affection for you. Pure Vanilla's eyebrow twitches when he leans in to whisper something in your ear, and you laugh like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard. It nearly pulls a frown out of him, but his calm smile remains steadfast, not wanting you to notice and worry over him.

Still, his eyes narrow when Clotted Cream pats you on your shoulder good-naturedly. The former cookie locking eyes with him and smiling before sending you back to his side like he hadn't earned Pure Vanilla's ire only seconds ago. You are oblivious, as you always are, as he wants you to be. He only smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you just a little closer than he normally does.

"Did you enjoy your time with Clotted Cream Cookie, my love?" He asks sweetly, though he doesn't really want to know.

You give him a beaming smile, "As always. He knows how to make boring proceedings fun."

"Ah," he hopes you don't notice how he tenses, "What were you talking about just now, it seemed funny."

"Just an inside joke," you smile fondly as you remember, "it's only funny if you were there, or else I'd let you in on it too."

"That's alright," he hums, though his fingers press a little harder into your side as you walk, "I'm just happy to see you happy."

It's not a lie, either. He does love seeing your smile, but not when it's caused by another cookie. Not when it's treated like some kind of secret he's not meant to see. He tries to remind himself that there's no need to be so immature, but his dough is already warm and his mind spiraling. It took him so very long to come to terms with his feelings for you, he missed out on so much. Where he wasn't, other cookies were, and those cookies took his place in experiences that should've been his. Took smiles that should've been his. Moments he should've shared with you.

You place your hand where he holds you at your waist, turning to give him a warm smile. It warms his heart to know you're caring for him in your own way, but he doesn't want to make you worry. To ease your mind, he presses a kiss to your forehead, offering his own smile up to you. You were with him now, there was no need to worry any longer.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

Pure Vanilla enjoyed quiet moments with you, especially ones like this. In the garden, surrounded by the white lilies there was nothing more peaceful than that. Your fingers run along their delicate petals as you hum a little tune to yourself, and he enjoys the sight with unbridled delight. His favorite cookie surrounded by his favorite flowers, what a blessing it is on his soul.

There are times where he wishes that every day could be like this. Just you and him in company, taking things nice and slow, soaking in the environment. You turn a little to sneak a glance at him, smiling to yourself when you notice his staring. The shyness cute on your face, something he loves to draw out of you.

Yes moments like these are exactly what he lives fo—

“Y/n Cookie? Are you around?” The familiar voice of Financier Cookie calls amongst the sea of flowers.

You perk up, standing from your spot with a wide smile, “I’m over here with the lilies!”

She comes into view around the corner, normally stern expression softening at the sight of you. Pure Vanilla does not like the look on her face. Still, he holds his tongue, there was no reason to be upset. She was a friend.

“Clotted Cream requests your presence,” She announces, and when you frown she shakes her head, “Nothing serious, he wishes to continue your conversation from yesterday. He’s in he quarters as usual.”

You brighten up, “Oh! I suppose we never did finish talking— ah, but… Pure Vanilla and I were spending some time together.”

He does not frown, though he really wants to. He knows that he could just say no, that you would remain by his side if he asked… but he can’t possibly take up your time when you are wanted elsewhere. It would be unfair to do so over such petty jealousy.

“We see each other every day,” He assures with that same gentle smile, “Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

You frown a little, “Are you sure?”

Of course he isn’t, “Positive. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at him worriedly, but ultimately wander off to find Clotted Cream. Financier stays back for a moment, watching you with an odd look on her face. The consideration is enough to pique his interest, so he raises his question.

“Is something the matter…?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” She shakes her head, “I would tell you immediately if there was anything to be concerned with.”

“Then why do you look so perplexed?” He asks again.

She seems to consider if telling him the truth is worth it or not. Mulling her options over for a few seconds before sighing, “It’s just a bit… odd to see them here.”

He frowns, “Whatever do you mean? Is there something wrong with the gardens?”

She shakes her head, sighing off some kind of weight, “Well, they’ve told me a few times in passing that they’re… not a fan of while lillie’s. The smell irritates them, if I’m remembering correctly, so it’s surprising to find them surrounded by them.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware…” He mutters, grip tightening on his staff.

She gives him a small reassuring smile, but it does anything but help, “I’m sure they just forgot to mention it, that’s all.”

“Of course, thank you Financier Cookie,” He hummed with as much sincerity he could muster.

She smiles tightly at him, and then leaves him alone with his thoughts. And think he does, far too much. Not only are you so close with so many cookies, not only did you leave him for Clotted Cream today, but now he learns you don’t even care for his favorite flower? You hadn’t ever mentioned it to him, but you had to other cookies. Wouldn’t something this important be worth talking about with him?

He takes a deep breath, leveling himself out once again. He couldn’t get ahead of himself, knowing that you would never do anything to hurt him purposefully. He couldn’t stop the ache, though. There was so much he did not know about you, so many things he had to learn that other cookies got to hear without asking.

How much time would it take for him to know you the way they did? He burned with jealousy at how easy it was for other cookies to know you, to see you and talk to you with no effort. Each time you were around he felt himself falling apart at the seams, grasping at any little sprinkle of attention you gave him. He could never be so casual with you, not with the effect you had on him, and it made him so jealous to know other cookies had it so easy.

He sighs again, setting his hat down. Not even the lilies were bringing him comfort now, his mood soured yet again. All he could do was sit and seethe until you returned to his side, imagining what you and Clotted Cream might be talking about that was so important to pluck you from his side.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

It is days of this cycle, which he refuses to break, even when given the chance to a million times. He just can’t find it in himself to step in, not when you seem so happy. Besides, it’s not as though he never sees you. He gets to have you to himself for most of the day, and especially at night.

Still, the annoyance grows in his chest little by little. Without realizing it he distanced himself from you, not wanting to overstep, he decides giving you space is for the best. Yet, he doesn’t realize just how much space he has given you. You begin to miss him, but he always has an excuse for you to go and visit with other cookies.

It feels like he does not want you around, even though he misses you dearly. The conundrum reaches a head when White Lily comes to visit. Being the Faerie Queen now, it was rare she took the time to see her old friend. So when the news of her traveling reached his ears, he cleared all his time to be with her.

You had not seen him since she had arrived, unless you were in your shared room. Even then, you hardly spoke more than a few words. There was an awkwardness there that hadn’t existed only a few days prior, it made your stomach ache. But how could you bring up your concerns when he merely brushed them away, always finding some way to make peace with the situation.

You did not hate White Lily Cookie, she couldn’t not control Pure Vanilla. But the sickness in your dough when you see them together does not go away with any soothing. He talks to her with such ease and knowing, in a way he never did with you. And when he looks at her there is a deep affection that never existed for you.

It makes you hurt. You could never be her, not in a million years. Perhaps that was why he was so distant recently, because he had missed her. Perhaps he wished that you were White Lily Cookie instead.

Despite him seeming oblivious, he was anything but. He was fully aware of the distance he had made between the two of you, and yet… he didn’t know how to fix it. His people pleasing ways had come around to stab him in the back, and he had no idea how to heal the wound inflicted by his own foolish actions.

Not until White Lily’s keen eyes picked up in the tension. She had always been able to read him well, it was why he was so fond of her. She knew him like no other cookie did, and he her. Which is exactly why she was the one to notice how worried he’d seemed.

“You’re tense,” She said simply, taking her seat next to him in the pagoda.

He sighs, “Is it obvious.”

“To me,” She smiles, “Tell me what’s on your mind, friend. It’s rare to see you so worried.”

He frowns at her, all the tension and fear from the week flooding him now that she was confronting it, “I am afraid I may be ruining my relationship.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head, “How would you be doing that?”

After a moments hesitation he lists the ways he has been dealing with the situation. The worry that he will never be close enough to you. The annoyance in his chest when other cookies are chummy with you. The distance he has created to avoid those feeling only making them worse. She smiles through the whole thing, knowingly.

“So… you’re jealous?” She chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing smile.

“I… suppose I am,” He admits, “It’s not as though the feeling is new, but it’s never been so strong…”

She laughs at him again, “Because you are in love, silly. Of course it’s stronger, have you talked to them about it.”

“Well…”

“Pure Vanilla.” She scolds, “Goodness, when will you ever learn. You can’t people please all the time, it’s not good for your health.”

He sighs, nodding along in agreement, “I know, I just don’t know how to bring it up so I deflect. And I’ve been avoiding them since you arrived, I can tell they feel horrible, but I fear I’ve gone too far.”

She hushes him, grabbing his hand in her own, “It’s never too late if the intent is there. I’m sure they’ll understand if you just talk to them. I would.”

“Thank you White Lily,” He smiles genuinely for the first time since she arrived, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She smiles warmly at him, squeezing his hand tightly. She always had a way to ease his worries with her words. It was just how well she knew him, she knew just what he needed as always.

A throat clears to the side of them, drawing their attention to it. White Lily reacts first, pulling her hands away from him and offering you a smile.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, mousy with voice shaking.

“Of course not,” She assures, “We were just talking about you, actually!”

Your expression relaxes a bit, inching forward as if one of them might deny you entry, “Nothing bad I hope…”

“Never,” Pure Vanilla speaks with such warmth that you almost forget how much you’d missed him this whole time, “Please come join us.”

So you do, and you sit and talk with them, and things are nearly normal. Pure Vanilla is back to his usual affectionate self, like nothing ever happened. But you catch the way he and White Lily exchange glances, the way banter comes to them more easily than it ever has to you. They just understood each other in a way you never have, and you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. Especially not after he’d pushed you away so much.

Eventually, White Lily leaves with the excuse of needing rest. Yet, you know it’s to give the two of you space. She’s always been observant and understanding, and you’re grateful for her consideration. When it is just you and Pure Vanilla again, you feel the tension begin to creep back between you. The thick wall of awkwardness wedging between you, and you fear for a moment that this is how it will be forever now. Then, he takes your hands in his, leaning over the table to get closer to you.

“I have to apologize,” He begins, “I have been unfair to you, and we have both suffered because of my actions.”

“Pure Vanilla—“ You want to ease his worries for some reason, tell him it’s alright, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“It took me a very long time to let you in, and because of that I fell short on sharing important moments with you. I’ve found myself… envious of other cookies who take up your time, and I’ve been immature in how I handle it,” He admits, stroking the backs of your hands, “I’ve put too much distance between us, and I can see how much it pains you. I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

It takes you a moment of awkward blinking to take in all he said, and while his genuineness is sweet, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your stomach. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. He was jealous so he avoided you, and at the same time you were just as jealous of White Lily Cookie. It was silly, and so easily solved, yet neither of you were willing to upset the other. He seems to find the humor in it all too, laughing heartily at your side.

You laugh until your sides hurt and tears are streaming from your eyes. Leaning your full weight on him so you don’t collapse to the floor. When you finally calm, you find it in yourself to admit to your own plight.

“I would be harsh on you, but I’m just as guilty of jealousy.” You sigh, squeezing his fingers in yours.

“What do you have to be jealous of?” He asks, and you almost can’t believe he doesn’t know. It’s so obvious to everyone else around him that he still adores White Lily, everyone but him it seems.

You shake your head in disbelief, “Gosh, you’re so oblivious. You really don’t know how you look at her, do you?”

He shakes his head with a deep frown.

“When you look at White Lily, I can see how much you still love her. I know you would never hurt me or betray me like that, but it does hurt when I see how you treat her. I feel like… maybe you’ll never look at me like that.” You admit, voice small and shaky the longer you go. It was hard to come to terms with how much it hurt, and worse to say out loud to him. He could reject you, pretend your feelings aren’t real.

Instead, he tucks a finger under you chin and forces your eyes on him, “I already do… I just get so embarrassed when you’re looking that I hide it from you.”

He pulls you a little closer, “I still love White Lily, but not in the same way that I love you. You are my whole world, my love. I would never leave you, not for anyone, and I’m sorry I made you worry for even a moment.”

You smile softly at him, leaning into his touch, “Next time, I think we should both just talk about it? All this dodging each other is silly.”

“I agree,” He chuckles, “I much prefer talking to you than not.”

“Very good,” You hum, sliding your arms around his shoulders, “Shall we make it up to each other then?”

His hand tug you closer by your waist, “I think that would be very nice, yes.”