#Smoking Butterfly (Spy)

[talos-stims]

tf2 stimboards: the spy

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[tf2-plus2]

(the last three of the expressions my friends requested, I'll still take requests for these from time to time! I've got three I wanna do tomorrow/later today for Demo, Soldier, and Engineer. I may do three for Retriever, Assassin, and Wally too

but enjoy these fun expressions, come up with a story, lol, I'm sure there's a real fun one behind Medic there-)

[hypernova-writes]

You're doing sm heavy lifting in the fandom, what an icon. Can i pls request some nsfw sniper hcs? Anything you'd like really! 💜

A/n: YES YES YOU MAYYYYYYYY I LOVE ME SOME SNIPER- I am literally so FERAL for this man, It’s a problem.

NSFW Sniper Headcanons

So let’s start off with what I think Sniper would be into.

he’s a switch, he could be a hard dom, to a really subby brat.

I think he would be into Light BDSM(giving and recieving), Def the Predator/Prey kink(giving), Overstimulation(Giving and receiving), Breeding, Oral fixation (giving), and cockwarming.

DIRTY TALK DIRTY TALK DIRTY TALKKKKKK. This man [Along with Spy, Medic and Scout] LOVES IT.

"You're my little fuckin' whore..mine..all fuckin' mine."

"That's right..scream my name..let them know im fuckin' you."

"Shit..yes..make a mess on my cock Sheila..fuckk.."

Degradation too, he loves telling you how much of a whore you are while you’re being fucked.

He’s a growler, he will growl in your ear, telling you how good you feel, how well you take his cock.

“Damn..look at you..takin’ my cock like such a good whore..”

Definitely is one to try out positions, but his favorite are doggystyle, cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, mating press, and the butterfly.

Has tried fucking you while standing, it unlocked something in his brain, you did not walk for two days after that.

Is open to pegging but doesn’t know how to bring it up…really wants to try it with you.

Mick loves eating you out, that man could sit down and do it for days. Sit on his face please, suffocate that man, and he will die and respawn as a different man with a taste for your cunt.

"C'mon..'roo..sit on my face..I need ya.."

He loves receiving head too, it’s the quickest way to hear Sniper’s moans, especially the high pitched whiney ones.

Bringing more on the oral fixation, when every he’s fucking you from behind, he likes hooking two fingers in your mouth, pressing on your tongue. He likes how it makes you clench around him, the way you drool over his fingers makes him just want to fuck you harder.

He also likes it when you press your fingers in his mouth when he’s subbing, when you’re tired of his whining and bratty behavior and press your fingers down on his tongue. It sends him higher than a kite.

Speaking of being high- I headcanon that he smokes weed, definitely would be into shotgunning. Riding him while he blows smoke into your mouth.

I know it’s late in the Headcanons to talk about his dick size but I think that man is PACKING, like a good 6 inches soft, 7 inches hard, girth, but not too big, like its just right enough to make you scream his name~.

WILL bully you (lovingly) when you struggle to take him.

“Mhm..look at you struggling to take my fucking cock..you can do it..”

“Aww?..is it too much? It wasn’t too much when i was fuckin’ you into my mattress earlier..”

LIKE AHHHH I NEED THIS MANNNNNNNN

Accurate depiction of me.

[pachu09]

Wherein Shinobi's still retain some Supernatural abilities...

It started with a translucent red butterfly.

Tobirama had only seen the fascinating animal when he crossed the Uchiha side of the Naka River after safely delivering one Uchiha Kagami and sharply reminding the child that he is to tell no one that he saved him.

The child had gaze up at him with teary eyes, solemn look and a promise that he wouldn't tell anyone about Tobi–sensei.

A second of shooing away the Uchiha Child. Tobirama was startled as one translucent red butterfly had pop out of no where and fluttered gently around him as if greeting a long awaited friend.

Tobirama had to take a step back as the butterly softly flutter across his cheeks, his nose and even his lips....the last action made him jump in alarm and he hurriedly crossed the raging Naka river in an attempt to leave the strange animal behind.

Curiously, when he looked back at the Uchiha territory. The butterfly was still flying around the place where he drop Kagami off..

And then in a burst of fine red smoke....the butterfly.....disappeared.

Tobirama was left baffled at seeing that scene.

He had never known that there is a specie of red butterflies that looked translucent.

He curiously wanted to know where it came from. But alas, he cannot go gallivanting around the Uchiha territory without anyone none the wiser. It's miraculous than he even had a few minutes to safely deliver Kagami without an Uchiha Squad raging and spitting fire after him.

He shook his head to get rid of his insatiable curiosity. Nothing good will come out if it if he investigated the damn animal. Who knows what even that is. But one thing is for sure, Tobirama knows the Uchiha still has hidden abilities that bordered on Supernatural. The same as their Clan that was rumored that wielded the power of Nature. He snorted at that thought. Hashirama may have been blessed with Supernatural abilities but he himself hasn't gotten anything.

Unless pulling out an enemies blood straight out of their veins and knowing where a pool of water is even if one is in the middle of a desert counts as a Supernatural abilities then Tobirama already counts himself as a freak.

Sighing loudly and after making sure Kagami was already halfway towards the Uchiha Compound. Tobirama finally turns towards his Clan Compound. With a quick burst of Chakra, he silently disappeared from the riverbank of the Naka River.

The only thing that witness his presence is a lone red translucent butterfly....that gently flutter around where he last stood.

~●~●~

If Tobirama bothered to looked back to the Uchiha territory he would have seen one Uchiha Madara appearing in the midst of hundreds of red translucent butterflies that appeared out of nowhere.

The Uchiha’s Sharingan was trained on his form as he fled from the infamous river.

Uchiha Madara flicked his eyes on his hand as a lone red butterfly daintily perch on his pointer finger. His eyes widen as the butterfly transfers its memory into him.

With a satisfied smile. Madara turn back towards his Clan Compound. With a click of his finger another translucent red butterfly eagerly sepearted from its brethren and heed his orders.

It then turn its fragile form towards their enemies land. Madara watches as his little butterfly disappeared from his sight. He hope that Hashirama's trees would ignore his little companion. It wouldn't do if his little spy was caught too early isn't it?.

Besides, he refuses to wait until Tobirama had to go out of the Senju Compound to monitor him again. The man had peaked his interest immensely after witnessing he saved an Uchiha Child.

He is looking forward to uncover more of the man's secrets in the future.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

(Please reblog if you want to, do not repost! Do not post to Pinterest!)

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic cover featuring a render of Pyro and Spy standing back-to-back in profile, with Pyro facing left and Spy facing right, standing against a dark purple background. Spy is smoking. Both characters have a yellow/orange rim lighting. Above them is the title of the fic, Flickering, glowing the same glowing yellow/orange. /end ID]

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Rating: K+

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship

Characters: Spy, Pyro, all the other mercs, and Miss Pauling (primarily Spy and Pyro, but everyone else has important moments too)

Warnings: TF2-typical violence, PTSD, panic attacks, trauma in general (none of these guys are okay)

Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it's never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason.

Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve (Teeth (mechmolar) also did the render for the cover!)

Notes: This fic is legit like around 80% complete already because it takes me forever to actually post anything these days. I'll be posting new chapters as I feel like it. It'll be around 10 chapters in total. Also, Pyro is nonhuman and uses it/its pronouns in this fic. Okay? Okay.

---

Prologue

They were pretty sure they knew what awaited them when they got to Gray Mann's base. Or, Spy was sure, anyway. Mann was after the same Australium they were, and they'd be interrogated for what little they knew. And he wasn’t going to get that information out of them easily.

Spy’s tongue nudged one of his fake teeth. The time would come for that eventually.

His suspicions were confirmed when Demo, still distraught from the loss of Sniper, was dragged out by a couple of the enemy mercs, who snickered over the ways they could "make him talk."

That left him, Miss Pauling, Soldier, Zhanna, and Pyro, all of them chained up in a tiny room, waiting out their fate.

Well, until that thing entered.

It was the other team's pyro. Their Pyro perked up with an interested hum when it saw the other, only to jump—as much as it could with its feet chained to the floor—when the enemy pyro removed its face.

Spy had, admittedly, been caught off-guard, but rolled his eyes immediately after. This was not like their Pyro. This one was a human—a woman, her face scarred with old burns and one eye missing, her hair pepper gray with half her scalp scarred over. The fact that she was human had startled him more than any disfigurement could have.

Of course, he had to remind himself that his team was the exception, as always. They'd become so accustomed to the incredibly strange nature of their comrade that it felt eerie to actually see a human behind a similar mask.

Pyro must have felt the same, with the way it tilted its head with a hum of consternation.

The woman stared at it in turn. "Hm. This one seems promising."

Miss Pauling's head shot up, but Spy nudged her and subtly shook his head.

Unfortunately, Soldier was not on their wavelength. "That one? HAH! If you need a building burned to the ground, maybe! But Pyro doesn't talk!"

One of the woman's eyebrows raised in interest. "Really."

Spy shut his eyes, imagining himself flipping open his butterfly knife and driving it through Soldier's throat.

"Nope! It's completely incomprehensible! It can’t tell you anything! The rest of us won’t, either—we will not yield under torture, especially not me. Though I'd love to see you try!"

"Soldier, no!" Zhanna cried. "I must be tortured first!"

But the enemy pyro did not respond to them—likely still staring at their Pyro. "It doesn't, eh?" she said, putting a heavy emphasis on the pronoun. "Good. I like a challenge."

Seconds later, several robots filed into the room, immediately heading for Pyro and unlocking its shackles from the floor. Pyro mumbled something at them.

"Wait, no!" Soldier cried. "Pick me, pick me! I'm a good challenge!"

But the robots paid them no mind as they escorted Pyro out, and Spy cracked an eye open to see it showed no signs of worrying about what was about to happen. The door slammed shut, and he let out a sigh, tipping his head back. "Soldier, you are going to get us all killed."

"We're gonna die anyway!" Soldier protested. "We can at least go down fighting!"

"We are not going to go down fighting, you imbecile. We are—" He stopped himself there, deciding he didn't particularly want to reflect on their fates with someone who wasn't going to care anyway.

"Poor Pyro," Miss Pauling murmured. "What are they going to do to it?"

Spy shrugged. "Better it than us." He lowered his voice. "With luck, they'll waste several hours trying to get information out of it before they realize Soldier, idiot that he is, was more-or-less telling the truth. That may buy us some time."

"You think we can still get out of this?" she whispered, hope edging into her voice.

"Not likely. We're probably delaying the inevitable." His tongue nudged one of his molars.

"We'll have to hope.” Miss Pauling sighed, staring at the door. "I guess Demo or Pyro could break out."

Spy barely resisted the urge to snort. "The drunkard? Not likely. Pyro? Who knows."

"I still can't imagine what they would do to it."

Spy tipped his head back to regard the ceiling for a moment. "Who can say? Waterboarding, perhaps?” A random guess, and he snorted at the absurdity of it. “Though I struggle to imagine what could break that creature."

"Neither could the Administrator. That's one of the reasons she recruited it." Miss Pauling shook her head. "If that's the case, maybe it'll find a way to break out. And break us out of here."

"Unless it decides to burn down the whole base with us inside. Regardless, resisting torture and breaking free are two different things. But we shall see."

Soldier groaned. "But when's it gonna be my turn to get tortured for information?"

"Will be our turn soon," Zhanna reassured him.

Spy heaved a sigh, and Miss Pauling shut her eyes.

They sat in uncomfortable silence (save for Soldier and Zhanna's chatter) for some time, Spy keeping an eye on the door while Miss Pauling stared at the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

The minutes ticked on. For how long, Spy was uncertain—he couldn't reach his watch to read it, and the feeling of dread in the air was not helping with their perception of time. Next to him, Miss Pauling occasionally muttered to herself, and every so often he could pick up phrases.

"...and we could go back to Australia, and..."

"...if Scout or Heavy are still out there..."

"...and Sniper could... wait, no..."

Sighing, he almost considered tuning her out, but it was a good distraction from his nicotine cravings, at least.

At some point, she raised her head. "Where is it?"

Spy raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Pyro. They've been keeping it for a long time."

"Yes. Demo has been gone for some time, too."

"Yeah, but... they can get information out of him." She turned to face him again, and an unspoken question hung in the air.

Spy returned her gaze. "Miss Pauling, if you are under the impression that we are in the hands of anyone other than violent sadists, I do not know what to tell you."

Before she could react, the door burst open.

“I VOLUNTEER!” Soldier cried, straining against his manacles.

But instead of their captors, Pyro stumbled into the room.

Spy would have hoped that it had indeed broken loose and come to rescue them had it not been for the fact that its hands were shackled behind its back.

The robots escorted Pyro to the end of the bench, where they shackled its feet to the floor. Meanwhile, the enemy pyro stepped into the room.

"Finally!" Soldier exclaimed. "You've had your turn, Pyro. Now it's mine!"

"Our turn," Zhanna corrected.

With an unfriendly smile, the woman turned to face them. "If you insist."

While the robots got to work escorting the two least intelligent people out of the room, Spy and Miss Pauling looked over their recently-returned companion. "Pyro?" Miss Pauling whispered. "You okay, buddy?"

Pyro said nothing, sitting still on the bench and facing forward.

"...Well, it looks okay, anyway." Miss Pauling shrugged. "Guess the Administrator was right."

"Hm." Spy's eyes narrowed as he continued to look Pyro over. While it was true that it looked more-or-less uninjured—the suit was a little roughed up, but that was it—he couldn't be too sure that it was unharmed. The enemy wouldn't have just done nothing with it, and the way Pyro did not answer them, nor even respond to its surroundings, was not encouraging.

Nor was the fact that it was trembling.

But before he could analyze Pyro's behavior any further, the doors burst open again, and this time a barely-coherent Demo was practically dragged into the room.

In the whirlwind of events that followed, the torture that their fellow mercs had endured was nearly all but forgotten.

But it would not stay that way.

[prettyboypistol]

do you do nsfw headcanons? if so, could you write some sniperspy nsfw hcs please? if you don't, i'd be happy to see any other hcs involving them. thank you in advance :)

SNIPERSPY NSFW HEADCANONS BELOW THE CUT

Sniper loves giving oral/has an oral fixation. Spy usually lets Sniper suck him off while he's reading/smoking.

Spy is a switch, but mostly bottoms for Sniper(he doms tho)

Sniper has a huge masochism and humiliation streak, Spy loves to audio record their escapades and "threaten" to release them to Sniper's team for foreplay.

Spy isn't actually a big sadist, but he can play the part for his pain slut <3 (his hands start hurting after a while of smacking Sniper around)

Just like every bitch (/affectionate) on this site thinks, I also firmly believe Sniper is into predator/prey, scents, and biting.

Spy on the other hand is really into controlling things- such as delay/denial, edging, and blindfolds.

Once in a blue moon, Sniper will get all hot and toppy- Spy goes along with it very enthusiastically. As much as a routine calms him, the idea of being debauched and "stained" by a brutish ruffian really gets him going.

Spy has a hand kink- especially when Sniper is cleaning his guns. Those fingers usually end up inside him within a matter of minutes, depending on 1. how horny Spy is and 2. how much restraint Sniper has that day

Neither like the taste of cum but will swallow for the bit if the scene would be hotter that way.

Sniper likes being threatened. Like, a lot. That butterfly knife has made him shoot his load in his pants multiple times. (Spy also likes the kukri, but only when Sniper is in control.)

Spy has more stamina, but Sniper can go more rounds.

Sniper thinks it's hot when Spy cries a little during sex (ex. choking on his dick, riding him too fast, etc.)

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ spy admiral x reader  ꒰ the femme fatale admiral ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 1311 rishen / gn new recruit reader ꒱ you are a new recruit at aegis, a homeland security and special forces organisation. you have been selected to train directly beneath the leader - yet you quickly find yourself feeling things you shouldn't. especially for someone who is twice your age.

𖹭. content warnings◞  age gap ( reader is over 20! ) . power dysparity . so much yearning . some suggestive tones . 1.0k

𖹭. receipts◞  needed to write more for this man/woman because he is SOOOOO

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. a new recruit to aegis, how exciting! even more exciting when you were selected to train directly below mister herrera himself. due to some programme that had been implemented. lucky you! yet you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. not only was mister herrera - rishen - feared and respected amongst thousands; but he was just so damn gorgeous it was unfair.

𖹭. nevertheless you pushed all those thoughts away. he was your superior and twice your age. those aren’t thoughts you should be having. so you’ll do your absolute best to garner his approval. pay close attention to his teachings and implement them with skill. you’d quickly gain his favour, even if you didn’t see it with his sometimes monotone attitude.

𖹭. you’d quickly come to the realisation that this man really was poor at giving himself a break. he was in his office before you arrived and well in to the night after you have left. out of the kindness of your heart, you take it upon yourself to try and take care of him. even if its just in the slightest.

𖹭. oh, his thoughtful rookie. he’d quickly catch wind of what you were trying to do. bringing him coffee with a little snack at certain times of the day. trying to usher him to take a break after some paper work. insist on patching him up after missions.

“you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head over this old man, cariño.”

his chuckle sends butterflies through your tummy as he leans forward. his forearms resting upon his mahogany desk littered with documents and schematics.

“you should use your free time wisely. go out. have fun. ruin your nights.” with a waft of his hand, he tuts. he leans back if only to stretch. then stand to his feet and step past you. the clicks of his heels echoing through your ears.

a cigarette catches your vision. it’s lit within a matter of seconds as he leans against one the many windows of his office. the staggering view of the city making itself all the more known when a clap of his hand props a small patch in the glass for his smoke to billow out.

rishen casts you a glance over his shoulder. there is a small jerk of his head.

“run along. go make me proud.”

𖹭. alright, you will wholeheartedly admit that you are fatally attracted to the admiral of aegis. you have tried and failed multiple times to push it down. how can you? every time he calls you those little endearments you hope are for only your ears - whenever he looks at you from beneath his lashes. the way in which he lowers his voice when talking to you. . . oh poor you! you’ve fallen hook, line and sinker.

𖹭. it’s the way he gently guides you through training. while sure you get your ass handed to you - he always helps you up right after. corrects your form like a tender teacher. then claps his hands and tells you to ‘make him proud.’ you’ve heard him say that line so many times. it makes your heart flutter with each.

𖹭. maybe you were just seeing things yesterday - when he had showed up in the cafeteria. you spoke with a group of new recruits, all from your generation. only catching on to their obvious flirting just as the admiral had stepped on behind you. the way he so calmly spoke to them. yet the underlining meaning in his words sent them all astray. was that a glare in his eyes? and what about the way he placed a hand on your shoulder?

𖹭. that couldn't be. you've seen him on missions. on his rare time off. you see the way he flirts around. with those around his age. he's a real hit, why would he feel something for you? you're just his new, bubbly recruit. it hurts. you want him so bad, and he's not even yours. he can't be yours.

𖹭. and yet during that undercover mission last week. after all had been said and done and you were next to him up on that gala balcony. the way he spoke to you. complimented your outfit choice. the way he —

his warmth invades your senses. prickles scatter over your skin. the hairs at the back of your neck raising. his thumb strokes your forearm.

“you sure you want this?”

the heat of his breath on your neck. the slow cascade of his lips down your throat. you cannot help the small moan that leaves you. the way your hands reach out for his shoulders.

“s-sir. . .”

red lipstick pulls into a smile. “words, cariño.” so he’ll kiss your neck but not your lips?

“please.”

and oh. they feel like heaven against yours. a scandalous bliss that leaves you tittering closer. you want more. need more. yet the tenderness of his kiss. the way his hand trails from your hip to your waist — tell you that it is all you are getting.

so you loop your arms around his neck. tilt your head. allow a certain boldness to soar through you as you wish to give him an incentive to stay. here. kissing you atop this balcony.

“I can’t,” he groans. he’s read your mind. and yet he still pushes you to the stone railing. the cold engulfs the small of your back - but it is not the thing that makes you gasp.

“why can’t you?”

it almost sounds like a whine. you should kick yourself for your depravity. it doesn’t stop your hands from trailing down his chest. your lower lips quivers.

“r-rishen.”

“sir.”

he corrects. you gulp.

still his lips cascade down your throat. they brush against the small bobbing of your skin. “mm. . . you’re too fucking young. too damn sweet.”

“mister herrera. . .” tears glisten in your eyes. the needs makes you whimper. he eases it with a small rub of his thumb against the fabric at your hip.

rishen parts from your warmth. his face hovers directly over yours. the curls of his hair brush your skin, and the temptation of another kiss is much too strong.

damn his willpower.

his touch slips from you. he withdraws. leaves.

damn your want.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[lyricalt]

[tf2 mini fic] roll over

BLU and RED spies take a smoke break together.

(Implied R!Sniper/R!Spy, PG)

bonus scene: the sequel for all bite. There was no way to fit it neatly in the main fic so here it is.

---

There is something different about RED Sniper. 

BLU Spy considers the body, slumped awkwardly in its seat. He taps his foot in contemplation.

Something is off. It bothers him that he cannot quite place it, but he has an instinct for this kind of thing. He remembers the way RED’s sniper had turned a little too late from the window. That flash of annoyance across his face had been fun to see, per usual, and he’d died quite appropriately to the butterfly knife. 

At the risk of soiling his shoes with blood, BLU Spy kicks the body so that it falls to the floor, splayed out and arms akimbo. He cranes his neck and pulls out his disguise kit.

After a moment, he blinks. Ah-hah. He sees it now. The change. He snorts, flipping through his paper masks until he finds the one with RED Sniper’s face on it.

“How interesting,” he says with a laugh, and takes a pen out from his pocket to make the correction.

---

There is a secluded backdoor in one of the factories with an awning that hardly anyone uses. The spies tend to take their ten minute smoke break there, away from the main battle but still close enough to hear whatever’s going on. It’s irrelevant on when the daily smoke break occurs, but this time BLU Spy leaves a note for an early meeting.

They smoke in silence for a bit. Both are leaning against the wall with the locked door between them. 

BLU Spy speaks up first, letting his arm fall back to his side, flicking ash from his cigarette. “There’s a possibility I had to update my disguise kit because of you.”

“Hm? Someone on my team wearing a new hat?” RED Spy asks.

They speak in the privacy of French, casual and pleasant, because it’s their only chance in the day to not be so secretive. A nice ten minutes to shoot the shit.

“No. It was something very subtle. But you know me, always obsessing over details.” BLU Spy pauses, just shy of being dramatic, because he can’t very well hold it in. He’s been waiting ages to speak to his counterpart today. 

“You do have an eye for them, Bleu. Well?”

“Your sniper, Monsieur Rouge,” Bleu says, watching RED Spy very carefully. “The one with the, hm, ‘keen eyes’ and ‘fast trigger’.” After a moment, he gleefully punches RED’s arm. “You sly dog.”

For three seconds, Rouge’s expression is one of perfect blankness. Bleu is about to congratulate him on his poise when Rogue shoots up from the wall to grab Bleu’s upper arm, shaking it with such intensity that Bleu fears his arm might vibrate out of its socket.

“No. Don’t tell me he’s wearing that. Not in public,” RED Spy starts, so aghast he abandons his carefully cultivated European French and slips back into his natural Quebecois accent. “This can’t be. I didn’t think he would-”

“I saw it myself.” Bleu shuffles the paper masks in his kit and carefully removes Rouge’s grip off him when he almost drops the entire stack. “Would you like to see? I’ve already added it to my repertoire.”

Rouge has since launched into a litany of “no no no no no no no, he can’t do this to me-” while Bleu takes his time finding the right mask. A second cigarette makes an appearance in Rogue’s fingers. He begins to smoke both at the same time. It’s a nostalgic sight to see. Bleu has not seen Rouge double fist cigarettes since their days at the university during final exams. 

Rouge hisses, “Please, M. Bleu, don’t put that o-”

Pleading hands grasp at his sleeve to no effect. Bleu slips on the disguise. Poor Rouge looks like he wants to perish on the spot from sheer mortification. His eyes dart to BLU Spy’s throat.

There is nothing at Bleu’s neck. Rouge would see his sniper’s RED uniform in perfect order, not a hair or button out of place.

BLU Spy lifts the kukri illusion, pointing to a very nice piece of strap fitted along the shoulder, a touch thicker than the rest of the sling. At first glance, it appears to be a nice lanyard to hang an extra carabiner on the shiny metal ring. 

Or perhaps something else could be clipped on such a fine metal ring. Who could say.

“Quite subtle indeed,” Bleu says, imitating RED Sniper’s voice, though the intonation is entirely wrong. He smiles, serene, and doesn’t hesitate to deal a killing blow in the form of a head tilt and a playful, “Arf-arf.”

There is a third cigarette between Rouge’s fingers. He squats down and smokes them all in silence, sucking them down to the filter. He looks like he wishes for the ground to swallow him up.

They still have four minutes left of their break so Bleu takes pity on the man and pulls off the mask. The disguise fizzes away, leaving him back in his blue suit. He pats Rouge’s shoulder and joins him squating on the ground, forearms resting on his knees. There’s only so much aloof leaning against a wall that he can take in a day. 

He nudges Rouge. “It’s going well, I take it?”

A sullen pause seems to be the only answer Rouge is willing to give until he finishes his cigarettes. After brushing off a credible amount of ash away, he grumbles, ”Yes.”

“Ah, my dear, so it really would’ve never worked out between us. How could I have competed with a piss-smelling hobo living in a dirty van? But don’t fret, sweet rival of mine, I still hold a special place in my heart from our delightful fraternity days-”

“Disgusting. Awful. Should you not wait to enact psychological warfare upon me until after our ten? At least you’ll be paid for the effort,” Rouge says stiffly. He sighs, rubbing his temples. “Take me back to Respawn. I need more ammo and cigarettes.” 

Rouge hands him a blade. Bleu cackles, not minding that Rouge has somehow stolen his own butterfly knife off him. Quite talented at that, those quick hands, even amongst other spies. 

“But of course,” he says, and slits RED Spy’s throat neatly.

For a very entertaining day ahead of him, it’s the least he can do 

---

Sniper gets cornered on the way to supper after his shift. It’s Spy, who looks unusually harried. 

“Promise me,” Spy says, serious, “Promise me you will not wear that thing around your neck in public.”

Sniper almost sputters. Awfully bold of Spy to bring it up in the middle of the hallway, in public, which seems like the opposite of what he wants. That thing could only mean one item in particular. Sniper puts up his hands, hissing softly, “There's a reason why I became a sniper, spook. I like hidin’ and stayin’ out of sight. You think, of all people, that I’d be an exhibitionist?” 

He truly cannot think of a worst thing to do. It’s a hard pass, if Spy ever asks this sort of thing from him, and Sniper wonders if this is going to be some kind of boundary-setting conversation. He hopes it isn’t. Not in the middle of the hallway and not right before supper. He’ll have to take his meal up in a tree if the conversation goes poorly—he can already feel a haunting embarrassment creeping in.

“Are you?” Spy asks.

“No!”

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

Note:

RED Spy = French Canadian

BLU Spy = Cajun

Neither are European French, though they both speak it professionally. (Professional Frenchmen.)

I suppose the reason Sniper thinks he sucks at learning French (on his own) is probably because Spy is speaking French Canadian in their private moments. Ah well!

[whitedarkmoonflower]

The Witch 2

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: Part 2 of the lovely Anon request about Sihtric x healer!reader. I'm completely enchanted by the story. It seems it has healed my writing block completely as I kept writing the whole day and there was no stop. And it seems that there will be Part 3

Warnings: fluff and a bit of heartbreak, but very delicate

Word Count: 4,2K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

As the morning sun cast its gentle rays through the window, the room began to fill with light. You sighed and rubbed your eyes as you finished stitching Sihtric's wound. After carefully securing the last stitch, you set your needle and thread aside and sat down for a moment, enjoying the stillness around you. 

The water in the basin felt cool against your skin and quickly turned red as you thoroughly washed away the blood from your hands.

You turned back to look at Sihtric, who lay peacefully asleep. Your potion had proven to be strong enough to ease his pain and keep him in slumber. A small, relieved smile playing on your lips, you watched over the young warrior's slender, sharply defined, and exceedingly handsome face, complete with a straight nose and strong jaw. 

As if guided by an irresistible force, you extended your hand and began to gently stroke his hair, your touch exuding tenderness and solace,  a surge of warmth welling up inside you. Your curiosity about him and his lord was undeniable, but there lingered an unshakable feeling that there was something more to this encounter. You shook your head, offering yourself a self-amused smirk.

"You have to be kidding," you teased yourself, your voice a playful chide. "The wise and ever-rational, powerful witch, falling for a complete stranger, and undoubtedly a spy at that?"

"You've spurned kings, chieftains, and formidable warriors, only to let the sweet, shy smiles and captivating eyes of a boy melt your resolve? What madness is this?" you mocked yourself, as your fingers kept tracing lines over Sihtric’s neatly braided hair, wondering and delighting at the strange feeling of butterflies in your stomach.Were the Gods having a laugh at your expense by sending him to your doorsteps, or was it perhaps a sign? 

As fatigue began to overtake you, and your eyelids grew heavy, you settled yourself in a comfortable position beside Sihtric on a nearby chair. Your weariness finally caught up with you, and you drifted off to sleep.

You stirred from your slumber, the sound of Sihtric's distressed mumbling pulling you back to consciousness. The effects of the potion seemed to be wearing off,  his face contorted with pain as he whimpered and moaned in sleep, his body shivering. You placed your hand on his forehead and grimaced - he was in a fever. 

Once of a sudden Sihtric's disjointed whispers turned into comprehensible words. "Uhtred... Aethelflaed..." he murmured. “Yes, Lord!”

You reached out to him, your touch gentle as you began to stroke his hair, offering soothing words to calm his restless slumber. "Shh, it's alright. You're safe here," you whispered.

—------------------------------------------------------

Sihtric awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep, his consciousness slowly emerging from the depths of slumber as if it didn’t want to let go of him, his head throbbing, eyelids so heavy as if they were filled with lead. Even without opening his eyes, Sihtric could tell that something was wrong. The bed was far too soft, the room bathed in the warmth of the sunlight, he could sense on his face even with eyes closed, was too bright and the fresh blanket covering him was surely not his usual fur cover smelling of smoke, horses and sweat.  He remained still, his eyes closed, listening intently to the world around him. Some silent but quick and purposeful footsteps echoed through the room, signalling he was not alone. Some other sounds accompanied the footsteps and Sihtric strained to identify the source of them, but it eluded him.

As he lay there, he began to notice the strange aroma around him, a mix of unfamiliar and familiar herbs, tickling his senses. He could recognise thyme, deadly nightshade and arnika, but there were so many more mingled together, creating a weil of scent wafting through the air and enveloping him from all sides.

He remembered himself sitting at the fire and listening to Uhtred instructing him to spy in Beamfleot. Beamfleot… Danes… Aethelflaed… memories started to rush back in an unstoppable tide.

He had been injured, he remembered the pain, the small house at the edge of the town, his weird urge to reach it in the hope for help and the strangely familiar, beautiful face with eyes wide in surprise looking down at him, telling him he was safe and he was going to be alright. 

Had it all been real or was it once again one of his vivid, taunting dreams? With deliberate slowness, Sihtric opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, as his hand found the neat and expertly made bandage around his waist. 

He had been sure he was going to die on that porch as he tried to knock at the closed door, not even knowing what was waiting for him behind them. And then the door went open and he saw you. The firm and confident sound of your voice echoed in his ears as he recalled how he had clung to that voice, channelling all his remaining strength. It had soothed and guided him, preventing him from succumbing to the encroaching darkness that threatened to consume him. He also remembered the firm and confident grip of two small yet strong arms, pulling him to his feet.

"Hey, welcome back to the land of the living!" The familiar, firm voice, warm and melodic, greeted him. A pleasantly soft and cool hand landed on his forehead. "You still have a fever, but I managed to stop the bleeding."

Taking a seat by the bedside, you checked the bandage carefully before reaching out and gently soothing the young man's cheek. Sihtric flinched at your touch, as though it had scorched him. He still couldn’t believe that out of all possible places, fate had decided to mock him and bring to your doorsteps. 

"I know you," Sihtric whispered hoarsely, licking his dry lips. His fingers clenched around your hand, and his gaze scanned every feature of your face, as if he still questioned whether you were real. "You... you are Sigefrid's..."

"Just please don't call me a witch," you interjected, "I don't like that."

"No... I... I didn't mean that. You... you are the seer. Did you save me?" Sihtric stuttered, his cheeks turning crimson. A warm smile tugged at your lips as you nodded in response, keeping a watchful eye on him.

"Tell me, Sihtric," you began with a mischievous smile, handing him a mug from the small table near the bed, "Your Lord, Uhtred, the Dane killer, is he a good lord? Is he kind to you?"

The mug slipped from Sihtric's hand as he choked and started coughing frantically. A sudden excruciating pain shot through his right side, causing him to gasp, wince, and grip his side before falling back onto the mattress. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

You observed him closely as his big, expressive eyes shifted to you.

"How... how do you know?" he breathed out sharply.

"I'm a seer," you grinned, your tone light. "And besides, you've been talking in your sleep."

Sihtric closed his eyes, cursing silently, his mind racing with escape possibilities, each more audacious than the last. However, he couldn't deny the reality that, unable to even get himself out of the bed without help, he was completely at your mercy.

"Why did you save me? You should have left me to die on your porch," he finally managed to utter, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"I don't mean any harm to you," you assured him gently. "I just want to know whether this was worth it." You touched Sihtric's arm, and as he opened his eyes, you traced your fingers over some of the scars on his chest.

"Lord Uhtred is a good and kind lord," Sihtric admitted truthfully, seeing no reason to lie. His eyes followed your fingers tracing his skin, and his cheeks flushed even more intensely, embarrassment shimmering in his gaze. "All these are from my previous life, before I met him."

"You need to rest and let yourself heal. You are safe here, and your secret is safe with me," you assured him, rising and turning to leave as Sihtric grabbed your hand to stop you.

"What do you mean?" he asked, doubt evident in his voice.

"I mean what I said. You sought help at my doorstep. I’m a healer. I don't sort or judge people seeking my help; I heal them."

"You mean you're not handing me over to Sigefrid?" Sihtric clung to your hand as if he were a drowning man grasping at a wooden plank. His eyes searched yours. You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand back.

"Wait... please, don't go," the soft, pleading tone of his voice caught you off guard, and you stopped. "I... I don't know what to say... thank you," he whispered, his large, mismatched eyes never leaving yours.

—--------------------------------------------

Sihtric was far from being over the mountain; the wound was deep, he had lost a lot of blood and you were worried that the wound might become infected. He was feverish, and his sleep was often filled with nightmares. He tossed and rolled in his bed, moaning and whimpering, and even your potions didn’t always provide him with deep and undisturbed sleep.

Sihtric could have sworn he heard your melodic voice through his nightmares, whispering soothing words or humming a soft melody and he was sure he had felt the fleeting touch of your gentle fingers running through his hair or your hand squeezing his. When he opened his eyes, you were never there, but your presence lingered in the air and on his skin.

The first days Sihtric flinched at every sound at the door, expecting warriors to burst into the room and seize him, ready to bring him before Erik and Sigefried as the spy that he was. As each day passed and nothing happened, he felt increasingly embarrassed for doubting your words. 

From the corner where his bed was placed, he could see people coming and going, primarily Danes. However, under the cover of darkness, Saxons also sneaked in. The word of your healing skills had spread quickly, but most were still hesitant to openly seek help from a pagan and a supposed witch. It didn't matter when, day or night, or who knocked at your door—you never turned anyone away.

The days passed and Sihtric slowly but steadily improved. He could already get out of the bed without your help and move around the house, he just got tired very quickly, which was normal, recalling how much blood he had lost. You couldn't help but notice how his eyes followed you around the room, or how his cheeks flushed and his breath quickened when you insisted on checking his wound and applying a new bandage. The sighs that escaped his lips when your hands touched his bare skin were incredibly endearing. Sometimes, you couldn't resist letting your fingers linger a bit longer on his well-sculpted abdomen, relishing the way he held his breath until you finally withdrew. 

You wanted to know more about Uhtred, the Dane killer. As the quiet of the evenings settled in, you often found yourself by Sihtric's bedside, urging him to share more about himself and his lord. At the beginning he was hesitant, but as you shared with him bits by bits the story of your own life, he gradually opened up. You enjoyed listening to his soft, charming voice as he recounted how his path had crossed with Uhtred, shared stories of life in Coochem, and described his first experiences in Lundene. As he spoke, the bond between you deepened, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways that went far beyond mere curiosity.

The hours seemed to drag on endlessly for Sihtric as he impatiently awaited the evenings when you would settle by his bedside to talk. You were so close that he could have easily reached out and touched you, but he didn't dare. The unique blend of herbs, lavender, and rose oil emanating from you left him feeling slightly dizzy, while his eyes slowly wandered over your beautiful face, framed by a crown of thick, dark hair that was always slightly dishevelled. His gaze eventually would travel down to your lips. He had imagined kissing them so many times that it felt as if he could almost feel their softness brushing against his own. Sighing deeply, he would attempt to calm his racing heart, but his burning cheeks always betrayed his inner turmoil as he continued to listen to your melodic voice, sharing stories about your childhood. You spoke of the small village where you had grown up, with your father being a Christian blacksmith and your mother a Dane, a pagan, and a healer.

That one evening, as you told him of how your mother had died at the hands of an enraged mob, incited by priests who blamed her for a bad harvest, tears glistened in the corners of your eyes. Sihtric could no longer hold back his emotions. He reached out, his trembling fingers wrapping around your hand. He half-expected you to withdraw, but you didn't. Instead, you allowed his touch, and Sihtric's heart swelled with warmth as he held your hand firmly, squeezing it gently while tracing his thumb over your skin.

He could feel your pain as if it were his, as your confession had stirred his own memories. Memories he had thought long buried and forgotten. As you finally wished him good night and prepared to leave, he couldn't bring himself to let you go. He pulled your hand closer, closing his eyes and pressing your palm tightly against his cheek, seeking comfort in the touch.

On that evening, Sihtric finally told you his own story. It was the first time he had ever spoken of it to someone, the first time he had dared to voice his pain, anger, and the overwhelming shame that he hadn't been able to protect his own mother from the wrath of his father. It was both liberating and devastating, as it meant admitting it had really happened.

You reached out to gently wipe away the tears that slowly trickled down Sihtric's cheeks as he recounted his life in Dunholm. You wanted to say something to offer comfort, but the words wouldn't leave your lips as you sensed that they wouldn't suffice. In the next moment, you found yourself moving closer to him, instinctively wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace. It was as if this simple, tender gesture had broken a dam within Sihtric. He leaned into your hug, and you cradled him, nuzzling soothingly into his hair, as his body shook with soft sobs.

“You know it was not your fault. You were just a child. There was nothing you could do,” you finally murmured, your voice heavy with sorrow and regret. 

You noticed the embarrassed and pained look on Sihtric's face the next morning as you brought him his breakfast. He believed himself to be disgraced in your eyes because of his weakness, and avoided your gaze, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the blanket. Taking a seat at his bedside, you gently took hold of his hand and brought it to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his palm.

Sihtric's eyes widened in surprise, and he exalted sharply. He wanted to say something, but you placed your index finger on his lips, urging him to be quiet. Your eyes locked, your faces just centimetres apart, and in a sudden surge of emotions, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

Surprised and caught off guard, Sihtric let out a soft moan as his lips eagerly met yours with a hint of desperation. You could sense his inexperience in the way his lips tentatively, almost weightlessly wandered around yours, but his eagerness excited you as you guided him into a deeper kiss, gently parting his lips with your tongue and teasingly licking into his mouth. 

Having dreamt about it hundreds of times, Sihtric couldn't believe you were actually kissing him. His world was spinning, and the sensation of your lips on his stole his breath away. His vision blurred, his breathing became erratic, and all he could think about was how soft and warm your lips felt. Sihtric had never been kissed like this before. While he was not a virgin, his experiences with women were rather limited to encounters with ladies offering their fleeting love for silver in alehouses, and they were not inclined to spend time on tender kisses.

Trembling with desire, he surrendered to you, moaning softly as your tongue slipped into his mouth crashing against his own. It was endearingly sweet to see how overwhelmed and completely captivated he was by your touch. He remained almost frozen, his eyes closed, and his breath held as he let your tongue explore his mouth. 

Sihtric almost whined at the loss when you broke the kiss and withdrew slowly from his lips. He opened his eyes, locking his gaze with yours, and suddenly, the shy, hesitant, and timid boy was gone. Sihtric's hands cupped your face, firmly pulling you closer, and his lips were back on yours again, gentle but demanding. He grew bolder and more determined with each passing moment,  lustfully inspecting your lips with his tongue, licking and sucking at them before sliding his tongue into your mouth exploring with eagerness every corner of it, feeling and tasting you in a burning thirst. 

And this time it was you who was left breathless, lightheaded, dizzy, and craving for more. Your fingers tangled in Sihtric's thick, curly hair, and you never wanted to let go. Even when you both finally broke the kiss, gasping for air, Sihtric didn't release his hold on you. His hand remained firmly placed on the back of your neck, and your foreheads touched as you both breathed heavily against each other's lips. In that moment, you couldn't help but think that this had probably been the best kiss of your entire life.

"I... I should go attend to some of the sick. I'll be back later,"  you murmured, clearing your throat. You gave Sihtric a small smile, your cheeks flushed, and you quickly made your way to the door.

Sihtric, still trying to catch his breath, stammered something incomprehensive that might have sounded like, "Yes, yes, of course, you should, " as he watched you leave, his heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and desire. 

As soon as you closed the door behind you, Sihtric slumped back against the pillow, replaying the moment in his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if he had done something wrong to make you retreat so hastily. His thoughts raced, filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety, as he tried to make sense of the unexpected kiss and what it might mean. 

It felt truly impossible for him to believe that you, the powerful, feared, and respected, breathtakingly beautiful seer of a mighty Danish warrior who threatened to overwhelm and conquer the whole of Wessex, could have genuine feelings for a poor and landless bastard in service of a lord who was supposed to be your enemy. But if not that, why play with his heart so cruelly?

Closing the doors behind you, you leaned against them, your heart racing and your breaths coming in heavy gasps. What had just happened? Why had you allowed yourself to be swept away by that kiss? Questions raced through your mind, each one more insistent than the last.

You had worked so hard to achieve your position as the seer of one of the most respected and powerful Danish chieftains. Your knowledge and skills had earned you respect and a sense of purpose in a world where women like you often had nothing to say. Yet, in a single moment, everything had been thrown into turmoil by a kiss from a young and charming warrior.

You couldn't deny how drawn you felt to Sihtric, nor could you ignore the genuine connection that had formed between you during his recovery. But was it worth risking everything you had built? 

—----------------------------------------------------

The day was filled with awkward silences, hidden glances, and deep sighs. You attempted to carry on as if nothing had happened, but both of you were evidently struggling.

In the evening, as you settled by Sihtric's bedside, you maintained a greater distance than before. Your hands were clasped in your lap, out of his reach, and now it was you who avoided Sihtric's inquisitive gaze, as you had no immediate answers for him.

With a profound sigh, Sihtric's gaze roamed your features, desperately searching for some concealed sign or hint that the passionate kiss from that morning hadn't been a mere whim or impulsive mistake. He had eagerly awaited the evening, hoping for an opportunity to speak to you privately. However, now that you sat there at the far end of the bed, your eyes conspicuously evading his, no words escaped his lips. It was evident that you wanted to put that morning behind you, perhaps even regretting it. Sihtric reclined against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Tell me more about Uhtred," you finally broke the awkward silence hanging in the air between you.

Sihtric sighed, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "I've told you so many things already. I don't know what else you want to know," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. He had burning questions of his own, and he wanted answers.

You shrugged, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "You've been recovering well lately," you said, trying to sound casual. "I think you've recovered enough to be ready to leave."

Sihtric's heart sank, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. He knew what you were getting at. You wanted him gone, out of your house, away from your sight and your life.

"I've probably overstayed my welcome," he managed to say, his voice feigning nonchalance, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "I'll leave tomorrow morning."

You nodded, your expression unreadable. 

Sihtric swallowed hard. "My debt before you is deep, I owe you my life. If you ever need my sword," he added, "you just have to summon me, and I'll come."

"We both know that your oath to your lord comes first," you replied. It seemed to Sihtric that he could almost hear some hidden pain in your words. Was it his wishful thinking or your voice was trembling? "The next time we meet, we may be on different sides of a battlefield."

Sihtric's heart ached at your words. He wanted to reach out to you, to hold you, to tell you that he didn't want to be your enemy. But he couldn't find the words, and he knew that you were right.

"You may rest assured," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I will never use against you what you have entrusted me with. What has been said between these walls will remain here," you added, rising from the bed and heading to the door. 

As the words hung in the air, both of you knew that this was a farewell, a parting of ways that neither of you truly wanted, but none of you could bring himself to speak against it. Any moment longer in the room with him, with the memories of that passionate kiss still fresh in your mind, would have shattered the composure you had carefully maintained. The warmth of his lips, the way he had held you so desperately, it had all stirred feelings you hadn't expected.

Your heart ached with a mixture of longing and confusion. You needed space and time to think, and to sort through the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed you, to clear your mind from the fog of love and affection that had clouded your ever so sound judgement. At least that’s what you said to yourself, as you closed the doors behind you and wiped away the tears that had welled up in your eyes. It somehow felt as if you had left a piece of your heart in that room behind you and it scared you, it frightened you beyond imaginable, as you had never felt something like this before. 

On the other side of the door Sihtric nervously raked his hands through his hair. He had wanted to stop you, to tell you that he didn't want to leave, that he wanted to stay with you. But he couldn't find the strength to do so. Who was he to demand anything from you if you so clearly had decided against him? He was grateful to you beyond borders for saving his life and not turning him in as a spy. It was still a mystery for him, why you had done that. He stared at the wooden ceiling feeling a profound emptiness in his chest, as if a part of him had just walked out of that door. He knew that he had to leave, you had been more than clear about it and this game had become too dangerous, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind something precious, something he might never find again.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[drawnthejayys]

Meet my BLU Team OCs !!

Info/Bios under cut!

Dr. Warin Kölher

• Born in Mannheim, Germany

• Team Leader, some refer to him as "Mother Hen" because of his protective motherly attitude

• Lost his medical degree early because he kept experiencing near death situations around his workplace, they thought it was becoming too dangerous even though nobody else was affected 💀

• Survived hell and back more than once (literally) before becoming a mercenary

• Happy face pin on his hat expresses his emotions somehow?¿

• Not a demon or anything, trust me!!!!!

• Likes crows, wants one as a pet

• Says he has a rare skin condition (is lying)

Jenny Thomas

• Sees Dr. Kölher as a parental figure

• "IF AUTISM DIDN'T EXIST, GOD WOULD NOT HAVE CREATED ME!" /ref /j

• Actually born in Canada, does not know

• Sent to Michigan (in a box) as a baby and grew up there

• Collector of many things (rocks, sticks, nuts n bolts)

• Can be very trigger happy especially on the battlefield

• Dr. Kölher gives her star stickers when he's good, he sticks them in his helmet (is tryin to collect 50 of them 🇺🇲)

• Owns chewelry because she has a biting problem but easily breaks through all of them in less than a week

Mason

• nickname: mason jar

• If Mundy listened to midwest emo (/hj)

• Look, we don't know how they escaped New Zealand when its currently at the bottom of the ocean but we don't ask

• Laid-back but lazy at times, takes a lot of naps

• Smokes more weed than Spy smoking cigarettes /hj

• Dumpster diver

• Their Jarate skills kinda go crazy

• Games with Junior, they love first-person shooters

Spy (alias: Rune)

• Get half filipino'd loser🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭

• Backup strategist for when things go to shit but also the last resort for a lot of things unfortunately

• Anxiety ridden, visits the doc often

• Good at stabbing, not much with shooting

• Acknowledges Scout as his son but is a very awkward dad. He's trying at least

• A hopeless romantic and has been looking for a partner since the divorce(tm)

• Smokes but is trying to quit, often been seen with a toothpick instead of a cigarette

• Autistic just like me fr, stims with his butterfly knife

Dallas

• Tough cowboy, doesn't play around

• "Watch your piehole son or imma SLAP YOU SILLY."

• Probably the sanest in the team

• Grumpy-pants who needs a break

• Very "tough love" kind of father figure

• "MY TEAMMATES ARE ALL MORONS!!!!" /ref /j

• Homophobic homosexual (/j)

• Despite his name, he might not even be Texan

• Tolerates Dr. Kölher the most

Dymitry (Mitya)

• Here to do his job, nothing more

• Intimidating just like the OG Heavy

• Fond of animals and small creatures

• Actually quite calm, its hard to piss him off

• He has a soft spot for Jenny and Meeka and buys them snacks on the weekends

• Jenny calls him Mitts!

Junior

• Transmasc bastard

• He'll beat your ass (for fun!)

• Good friends with Sniper, they listen to music and play video games together!

• Knows Spy is his dad and is very nonchalant about it, much to Spy's dismay ("I am your fathe-" "Whatever, don't care, didn't ask")

• Has braces paid for by Spy but has to leave base monthly to go to an actual dentist because Dr. Kölher didn't wanna keep seeing him cry whenever he had to get his braces tightened

•Still has buck teeth :3

Meeka

• Your honour, they're just a little guy

• Hangs around Mitya to keep him company, theyre the best of friends!

• Goes on crazy killing sprees with Jenny during matches

• Ongoing beef/goof-off with the RED Team's Pyro

• Pinkie Pie energy!!

• Dallas is their (adoptive) dad!

Angus

• Superstitious about a lot of things but keeps it to himself

• For some reason is always very warm which is why he's shirtless 90% of the time

• Has some amazing tits ngl

• Will wear a dress to the function and be the hottest one there

• His fav food is burber 🍔

• Loves hard rum and scotch (its important to me that all my demo ocs have a fav alcoholic beverage)

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

That's all of them! I hope you like them :3

[theonemeathead]

Spy x Reader, "Damn Spys"

hello! sorry for the lack of content, all i do is work nowadays. here's a spy x reader smutfic in the meantime, enjoy!

tws for fem implied reader, afab anatomy

Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck.

You propelled yourself forward, skidding down the hall. You slightly fumbled over yourself, quickly regaining your balance before sprinting off again. Everyone was on edge, it was a code red; BLU Spy was in the base. Ironic. You had little time to look for him, before God knows what might happen to all of you.

You turned sharply to the right, your loaded gun in your hand. You carried something high calliber in situations like this, it was necessary. Spys were sneaky and played dirty, they toyed with their prey until they had their fill and, only then, did they go for the kill. For all you knew, there could be duplicate of yourself running around, gaining your team's trust. Trust nobody when a Spy is in your midst.

You gunned for the intelligence room. It was only a matter of time before your briefcase was picked up and stolen by the French version of a modern day Boogeyman. You stood in front of the door, racking your brain for the code. It changed weekly, it was never the same input. Soldier normally left the code on a bright yellow sticky note above the keypad, but it seems this was the one time he'd forgotten. You typed in multiple sequences before a familiar chime played, the lock lighting up green and clicking open. Proud of yourself, you turned the doorknob, laying eyes on the briefcase immediately. You scanned the room, carefully. Spys had multiple tricks up their sleeves, including the ability to cloak. Turning invisible was not just a parlor trick when it meant you could end up, face-down, with a flashy balisong dug deep into your back.

Nodding your head, you began walking backwards. You were about to turn around and high-tail back to the others, desperate to be anything but by yourself, when you tripped over... nothing? You had fallen backwards, right on your ass. You were lucky none of the others were here, but then that led to your next question. What could have possibly been in your way? You didn't have time to think before the eerie sound of a Spy decloaking rang out, causing goosebumps to appear immediately on your body. You whipped around, catching the wrist of a very familiar man.

A Spy.

Your brow furrowed, you didn't think twice before pulling him down, towards you. He stumbled, falling forward slightly as you moved to the side. He was so light, so easy to just push around. You wondered how someone so skilled could just be tossed like nothing. You had never really touched a Spy, you tried to stay away from any of them as much as possible. The soft silk of his satin navy jacket felt heavenly, it was a shame he was trying to kill you. He tossed his beloved butterfly knife from one hand to the other, skillfully catching it and swinging back in one graceful motion. You had barely managed to jump back, hardly escaping being sliced like swiss cheese. He seemed to be getting growingly more frustrated the longer you two kept up what felt more like a waltz, than a fight. You kept narrowly avoiding lethal cuts, pushing him around as if he weighed nothing. Having had enough, he growled, fading away in a cloud of smoke again. All that indicated he was still here was the sound of his heeled footsteps.

"Turning invisible? That's cheap," you whispered more to yourself, than anyone. You panted, your senses were heightened from anxiety. Your eyes flicked around, he could be anywhere, now. The hair on your neck stood up immediately when you felt a lingering presence beginning to creep up behind you. As if on queue, he decloaked, his weapon drawn and ready to spill blood. The blade yearned for the sweet taste of that metallic crimson, and it had your name written all over it. You knew the feeling, you've grown familiar with the searing sting that would strike you down in between your shoulder blades. Being backstabbed was nothing more than just a common occurrence on the battlefield, but in your own base, it was laced with something that dug deeper than just the length of a knife; Shame.

You caught him once again, your eyes locked with his. His brow was angled down, tightly pinned together as he tried to keep pushing past the grip you had on him. Seems Soldier's training does pay off. His steel tinted eyes glistened in flickering light of the overhead LEDs, the red light of the alarm illuminating him every now and then. You took a moment to admire what little bit of his face you could see. His eyebrows were well trimmed, as if he plucked them himself. There was a slight crease on the bridge of his nose, the hook leaving a deep indent in between his eyes. You could smell the distinct scent of aftershave from how close you were, along with a fragrant cologne. His teeth, although perfect, were slightly stained from nicotine. You could see the remnants of what would be where his facial hair would grow, a shadow all that's left of what was once there. He was well kempt, you'll give him that. You had half-forgotten you were about to die, until you felt your hand falter slightly. His butterfly knife was dangerously close to the vital atery in your neck. You didn't know what to do, you felt cornered.

So, naturally, you swung your other hand up to meet the fabric of his inky blue balaclava. Taking a fistful of the fabric, you yanked it off, tossing it far off to the side. He stared, wide-eyed down at you. You felt his movements stutter, as if expecting anything but that to have happened. You took the window of opportunity to knock the balisong out of his hands, watching as it slid itself under a set of filing cabinets. Now, you were face to face with Spy, yet he didn't have the illusion of hiding behind a mask anymore. He backed off, creating distance between you two.

His cheek bones were high and defined, his jaw almost chiseled. He had a few wrinkles, frown lines and crow's feet, indicating he was aged. Much older than you. The part that surprised you the most was how much hair was under his disguise. He had a headful, most of it slicked back to the top of his head. It was a dark shade of brown, almost black. Grey streaks formed from the root, fanning back and feathering through the rest of his wavy hair. You were awestruck, to say the least.

"You're beautiful." Your words came out, breathless. You watched his frantic expression shift to one of blatant confusion.

"Pardon?" He had been called many things, handsome, sexy... but never beautiful. He flushed slightly at your compliment before quickly shaking his head. You had just ripped his mask off, sent his most prized possession flying across the room, and now you had the gall to compliment him?

He sculked towards you, watching as you took a step back everytime he moved forward. You stopped abruptly when your lower half bumped into the table; The table your intelligence sat on. He trapped you, slamming both of his long, skinny arms around your frame. Instinctively, you shrunk down. He was tall, so much taller than you. You flinched when he brought a hand up to your waist, taking the gun from its holster. He sat it on the floor, kicking it far away from where you both stood. Now you were both defenseless in the sense that you both lacked weapons.

"Do you know what I do to those who've seen my full identity, mon chérie?" The words rolled off his tongue, venom dripping from his words. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. And although he worked for the enemy, you felt yourself wanting him to say more, to do more to you. Were you into this?

"What?" It sounded meek, desperate even. Damn Spys are all the same; Flirty and suave. But, God, was he good at it. He smirked, a sinister undertone etched deep into his expression. He traced a gloved hand from the top of your knee, up towards your inner thigh. He kneaded teasing circles, dangerously close to the warmth between your legs. You were embarrassed how aroused this was getting you. The risk of being caught in an open space like this, the thrill of flirting with someone who you were supposed to hate, it was all too much. He chuckled darkly, pressing himself into you, the crotch of his slacks rubbing against your soft body.

Oh, he was getting off on this too.

"Why don't I show you." He wrapped one hand around your neck, digits pressing slightly into the vulnerable flesh between his fingers. Tenderly, he connected his lips to yours. He reveled at the way you whined into the kiss, amused by how needy you were. He allowed you to unbutton the jacket of his suit, helping you peel it off. Tongues danced around each other, the taste of mint and menthol numbing your senses. He was so intoxicating, he made even a sloppy makeout feel elegant.

He broke the kiss, a small string of saliva still connecting your mouths. You panted, pulling him by the loops of his slacks. Eagerly, you went for the zipper, ready to have your brains fucked out. Yet, it was his turn to catch your wrists. He sternly looked at you, pushing your hands back to your chest. You swallowed thickly, obeying the silent command. Instead, you opted to move to yourself. You fiddled with the buttons of your own jeans, hastily pulling them down to your ankles and off. You hopped up on the table behind you, gasping when cold steel made contact with your warm, bare skin. Spy watched you, eagerly. His gaze was hungry, maybe even desperate. There was no 'double' of you yet, MannCo. was still working out the kinks of it all. Perhaps seeing you flaunt yourself on the battlefield drove him crazy. Perhaps that's why it felt like he targeted you during those matches, to get close to you, to feel you. You reminisced often of the times of how he would hold you as you faded to Respawn.

Broken from your thoughts, you felt the leather material of an expensive glove paw at the bottom of your shirt. He looked at you for confirmation, in which you obliged by helping him lift it up and off. Experienced hands trailed to your back, masterfully unclipping your bra. It felt so nice, being pampered like this. You allowed it to fall of your shoulders, the straps sliding down your bicep as you peeled the coarse material off. You were bare beneath him, save for your panties.

"Tu es belle, mon ange," he spoke, breathlessly. He dipped, leaving soft kisses down your jaw and towards your collarbone. He lapped at the crook where the dip of your neck met your shoulders, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. He sucked, a slight sting beginning to form from the sensation. Your breath hitched, a small gasp leaving you as you felt the familiar tenderness of a bruise beginning to form. He plastered you with marks, as if claiming you. Claiming you, the 10th mercenary of the RED team, for BLU.

You laced one of your hands in his greying hair, instinctively pulling at the soft strands when he bit down particularly harsh. You heard a low groan, causing another wave of heat to pool between your legs. Seemingly satisfied with the dark purple marks littered across your upper body, he began making his way down. Leaving slow, sensual kisses down your sternum and towards your chest and down your stomach. He looped his fingers around the band of your underwear and began pulling. He slid them down with little trouble, caressing the back of your leg with his other hand as he did so. Even in the blaring alarms, he could still see how you glistened for him.

"You seem to be enjoying this, ma fleur," he purred. You let out a shakey breath, eyes following the hand that trailed from you knee, down towards your warmth. You sighed in bliss when you felt the foreign material of his gloves delve into the folds of your cunt, rubbing expertly around your clit. He started slow, making you whine and grind back against him.

"More, please. I need more." Your voice was lined with ecstasy. He chuckled, amused by how you didn't beat around the bush. Maybe you weren't so hard to break.

"Whatever you wish."

You grabbed his wrist, arching into the touch as he rubbed faster. It was insane how good at this he was. You began to feel a coil, as if a something inside of you was beginning to tighten. You rocked your hips in rythm with his fingers, biting your lip to hold back how loud you wanted to be. Eventually, it snapped. Your grip tightened on his arm, your eyes screwed shut as you felt hot bliss course through tour body. He worked you through it, stopping when you finally came down. You looked up at him, mouth slightly agape. The Frenchman grinned, maniacally, down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling from pride.

A silent look was shared between the two of you; A knowing look. He unfastened the buckle of his belt, allowing his pants to slide down towards the floor. He kept his shirt and tie on, but allowed you to pull his briefs down, studying your reaction as you watched his hard cock spring free. He was a lot longer than you imagined, yet not thick. He was uncircumcised, his cock a bit darker than the rest of his body. You watched as he pumped himself a couple of times, the head of his cock peaking out. It was a light pink, cute in a weird way. You watched as a line of clear precum dripped towards the floor.

He guided the tip towards your aching pussy, slowly sliding himself into the wetness of your body. He let out a long groan, as if he hadn't done this in a long time, as if he needed to use your body. You gasped when he bottomed out, the head of his cock resting against your cervix. You whimpered, desperate for him to create friction. Just like him, it had been a while since you'd done this too.

He pulled his hips back, testing the waters before pushing fully back into you. He positoned himself above you so that his hands were pulling you up towards him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, encasing him deep inside you. You threw your arms around his neck, one planting itself deep in his hair, yet again. He fucked into you, rough and fast. Every thrust illicited an even more vulgar moan from you. It didn't help he was rather noisy in your ear, either. Praising you in a language you didn't understand, groaning your name. Not your class name either; Your real name.

Suddenly, he hit a spot, his cock dragging fully against it. He abused it, knowing what it was doing to you. You couldn't even get the words out before you reached your climax, biting down on his shoulder to muffle your noises. This seemed to be what pushed him over, the way you tightened around him and moaned his name, it was too much. He released, deep inside the warmth of your body. You could feel yourself getting filled, bred to the brim with his cum beginning to leak out of you. He pulled out, leaning back to gaze into your eyes. His gaze was gentle, almost loving. Maybe this is what he needed, a companion. After 23 years, it felt nice to just hold somebody. To you, it felt nice to be held.

You both knew this was not going to be a one time thing.

"SPY, COME IN. HAVE YOU PENETRATED THE DEFENSES, YET? OVER." The voice of the BLU Soldier rang out over Spy's watch. He groaned, rolling his eyes before raising it to respond.

"I've penetrated something, oui," he winked at you, taking his other hand and combing his hair to slick back down. He got dressed, pulling the mask back on as the final touch. He left a quick kiss on your forehead, before clicking something on his watch. He nodded his head at you, standing at the exit. "Until again, mon ange."

You watched as he ran off down the hall, disappearing into a cloud of smoke. You shook your head, amused.

As you slid your shirt back on, finally fully dressed, the weight of what had happened had hit you. He was still the BLU Spy. You whipped your head back to the table, eyes widening as you noticed that your team's briefcase was now missing. Your jaw dropped and all you could do was stand there as the Administrator's voice rang through the base, disappointment evident.

"You've failed! The enemy has secured our intelligence."

Damn Spys.

[sidekick-hero]

What a month! 29 days (thank you leap year), 29 fics, 51k words. I had so much fun doing @steddielovemonth and challenge myself to write something every single day.

You can find all my entries under the Read More ⬇️

Carry You (mature | wc: 4k | tags: drug addiction, hurt Eddie Munson, post break-up, hopeful ending | prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you | AO3)

My arms belong around you (mature | wc: 509 | cw: mild smut | prompt: Love is bodies touching, whether it’s soft cuddles or sliding together towards orgasm by | AO3)

Rooting for you (explicit | wc: 2.6k | tags: open ending, mention of Eddie/OMC, short Steve/OFC scene, frat boy steve, modern au, fuckbuddies, not really unrequited love | prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking the leap | AO3)

Slaying Dragons (general | wc: 2.1k | cw: none | tags: childhood friends, Eddie lives, fluff and tiny bit of angst | AO3)

Like real people do (general | wc: 846 | cw: none | tags: established relationship, soft boys being soft | prompt: Love is being seen and known | AO3)

Hate to be lame (mature | wc: 1.1k | tags: spy au, spy boyfriends, established relationship | prompt: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing by | AO3)

We can be heroes (general | wc: 1.2k | tags: feelings realization, Kas!Eddie (flashback), smoking weed together, boys in love | prompt: Love is what makes you brave | AO3)

true colors (explicit | wc: 2.1k | tags: getting together, fluff, love confessions, Steve takes care of Eddie | Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him | AO3)

He was sweet like honey (explicit | wc: 2.7k | tags: friends with benefits, they are in love your honor they are just bad with words, food sex (ice cream), slight dom/sub undertones (dom Steve/sub Eddie), blowjobs | prompt: Love is sharing food | AO3)

Safe Haven (teen | wc: 3.2k | tags: werewolf!Steve, Human!Eddie, hurt!Steve, Eddie taking care of Steve, minor characters death | prompt: Love is feeling safe | AO3)

Eat you alive (mature | wc: 1.8k | tags: werewolf!Steve, human!Eddie, domesticity, soft boys being soft, bathing together | prompt: Love is saving the last bite for them | Part 2 to Safe Haven | AO3)

are you still mine? (teen | wc: 2.4k | tags: future fic, steddie in their 40s, second chances, mutual pining, happy ending | prompt: Love is the hope for a future together | AO3)

the past, the future, through death my arms are open (mature | wc: 2.1k | tags: mutual pining, Eddie/OMC (nothing explicit), memory of the past | second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past | prompts: Love is keeping a spare sweater/blanket in the car because they always get cold and Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask | AO3)

sink you teeth (explicit | wc: 563 words | tags: vampire!eddie, blood drinking, smut, established relationship, part 2 of Love from the other side | prompt: Love is being late to work because you can’t ever say goodbye in a reasonable amount of time | AO3 )

Butterfly Effect (mature | wc: 1.5k | tags: friends with benefits, Eddie Munson is bad at feelings, but Steve makes him talk about them anyway, at least in metaphors, emotional hurt/comfort | prompt: Love is letting yourself be loved | AO3)

when we were made it was no accident (teen | wc: 1.2k | tags: rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, secret relationship, part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note | prompt: love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can’t tear yourself away from them just yet | art by Kei | story in the same verse by Lex | AO3)

Dear Steve (teen | wc: 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie’s entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don’t get lost | AO3)

that ultra-kind of love (you never walk away from) (teen | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, first time, virgin!eddie, just soft boys being soft, not the actual smut I am sorry | prompt: Love is terrifying | AO3)

Let Go ( explicit | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, fluff and smut, soft boys being soft | prompt: Love is helping them unwind after a rough day | AO3)

Someone New (teen | wc: 1.7k | tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, soft boys, Steve takes care of Eddie, Vecna aftermath | prompt: Love is a warm hug | AO3)

You got a fast car (teen | wc: 1.4k | cw: blood, the aftermath of a beating | tags: hurt!eddie and protective!steve, running away | prompt: Love is letting him pick the music | AO3)

only soul I ever saved (explicit | wc: 1.1k | tags: established relationship, sub!eddie, top!eddie, dom!steve, bottom!steve, porn with feelings, Good Boy Eddie | prompt: Love is liking the version of yourself you are with them the best| AO3)

something about us (teen | wc: 1.4k | tags: college au, meet-cute thank to a fire alarm | prompt: Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold | AO3)

take you with me (mature | wc: 2.1k | tags: outlaw!eddie, future fic, starcrossed lovers finding each other, happy ending, the happy ending to he’s all that I’ve got (don’t take that sinner from me) we deserve | prompt: Love is the only thing we can take with us | AO3)

safe & sound (teen | wc: 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | prompt: Love is asking, “do you want a blanket?" | AO3)

will you find me in the stars (mature | wc: 2.1k | cw: major character death (temporary, as in reincarnation) | tags: soulmates, starcrossed lovers, reincarnation | summary: In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What’s a lifetime if you measure it in eternity? | prompt: Love is a fire that never goes out | AO3)

Crutch (mature | wc: 2k | tags: established relationship, post-s4, Valentine’s Day, Robin is the best, fluff | summary: Steve loves Eddie, he really, really does. He just can’t say it. | prompt: Love is just a four-letter word | AO3)

will you take me home (teen | wc: 2.7k | tags: animal shelter workers Eddie and Chrissy, platonic stobin, background buckingham, Idiots to lovers | prompt: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him | AO3)

Anything for love (teen | wc: 790 | tags: established relationship, former jock Steve, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, in fact he’s so in love he would do anything for love | prompt: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy | AO3)

[tf2-plus2]

(Time to work on the requests my friends gave me with those expressions!)

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Coffee and Cigarettes~

Modern!Aemond X Reader

Summary: When Aemond's date doesn’t go as planned, one of his feisty classmates comes to his aid and manages to catch his eye, and not by her beauty, but mostly by her bold personality.

Part 1

Part 2

Aemond wondered if he was a fool to fall for it and show up the next day, given that he had been stood up only the day before. It would be beyond embarrassing if it happened for a second time, consecutively.

He smoked a cig while he waited for Y/N outside the cafe, too hesitant to go in and wait, in case she ditched him. There would be no one to save him from the embarrassment today.

He wasn’t really excited as one would be for a date. In all honesty, he was only intrigued by the girl and her outgoing nature. How did a social butterfly, a feisty spirit such as herself, manage to handle both being a brat and a good student? Was she actually sleeping with some of the professors? He wouldn’t be surprised if she told him she was. It wasn’t like she gave off the vibe of getting what she wanted by resorting to the easy offer of sex but because she was captivating enough to actually convince someone to get into that sort of deal with her. She had a certain authoritative nature beneath all that fire; the same nature that managed to convince even himself to go on that date.

"Smoking isn’t good for you"

Aemond spun around to see the girl leaning against the wall, a smirk dancing on her lips that were glossed with a lovely shade of coral pink. She looked pretty, as usual, wearing a leather jacket that was starting to peel at the sleeves.

"I know" Aemond simply shrugged.

"Better things to get addicted to" she went on as she pushed herself away from the wall "like coffee"

"Coffee isn’t good for you-"

"Shh" the girl took his hand, the one that held the cig and tugged it downward so that he wouldn’t be able to take another drag "smoke all you want after I've left, it gets suffocating for me"

Aemond heaved a dramatic sigh, turning to push the butt of his cig into the ashtray outside before the both of them could head into the little coffee shop which gave Aemond flashbacks to what had happened the previous day.

Barely a few seconds in and Aemond spotted his older brother Aegon sitting in the corner with his hood up and his shades on- a pathetic attempt of a disguise. He had ordered a small cup of coffee since he was aware he’d be asked to leave if he didn’t order anything.

Aemond had vaguely told him about his flop of a date and how his classmate had swooped in to save him the embarrassment which resulted in him being asked on a date with her.

Aemond wouldn’t particularly call him and his brother close but they always had each other's back and even though Aegon would never admit it, he was rather protective over his brother so when he heard of what happened, he decided to show up and observe if this date would go better than the previous one.

"Isn’t that your brother?" Y/N curiously asked Aemond in a hushed tone. She wondered why he would show up dressed like that and why he was trying his best to cover his face behind the menu card. Was he hiding from someone in this cafe?

Aemond winced out of embarrassment. Of course Aegon would be recognised. If not by his pearly white hair then most certainly by his popularity status. What was he thinking, coming out here to spy?

"I uh-" Aemond nervously rubbed the back of his neck "yea he is"

Y/N still kept looking back quizzically as Aemond ordered them coffee and Aegon knew that it was useless trying to hide behind that thin laminated sheet, it was only getting more obvious that he was trying to shield himself away from them.

As Aemond and Y/N headed to sit, at a table well away from Aegon's, Y/N offered a sweet smile to the older Targaryen brother who was still eyeing the pair.

She seems sweet, Aegon thought, nice catch brother.

Aegon you imbecile, Aemond inwardly groaned as he sat across Y/N, facing Aegon, just leave already.

"Is he here to chaperone? Make sure I don’t break your heart?" Y/N cheekily asked as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table.

"He's uh, just.." Aemond glanced toward his brother, trying to think of what to say. Aegon shot him a thumbs up when their eyes met and Aemond instinctively flipped him off which made the girl seated across him, chuckle.

She happened to find their silent sibling-banter rather comical, borderline cute even.

Knowing that Aegon was watching, she brushed her leg against Aemond’s, removing her one foot from her moccasins and her ankle shamelessly going up and up until she’d reached his thigh which made Aemond’s brain short circuit. He sat before her, rigid, as if he’d all of a sudden forgotten how to breathe and he was sure if he was in a cartoon, his character would’ve been animated to have bright red skin with steam blowing off the top of his head and a tiny heart doodle that popped out of his chest with a ba-dump sound.

She gave the boy a smug smile, when she heard Aegon cough from his table behind her- probably choking on his beverage when he saw her getting too shameless with her pda as her foot slowly began to slide in between his legs, to pry them apart.

Aemond was sure by this point that Y/N was sent to go on this date as a part of some dare she was probably given at some house party. Why on earth would she be interested in him and be so bold with her advances? She’d never shown him any interest before.

The boy pushed himself away from a table a bit, the legs of the chair softly scraping against the floor. Y/N seemed to frown slightly at his urge to create distance between them but she didn’t say anything.

“What are you playing at?” Aemond asked, sighing as he held eye contact “you’ve obviously never given two shits about me before and now suddenly you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself”

“My hands are kept to myself” Y/N cheekily replied, trying her very best to keep her smirk from creeping to her lips “my legs however, seem to want to get in between yours”

“I’m being serious” Aemond sternly added, desperate for an answer. He wasn’t going to let her have the satisfaction of leading him on and then tossing him aside like he was some toy of her’s that she’d gotten bored with. He was Aemond Targaryen and he wanted to be known as that instead of the boy who Y/N used to complete some stupid dare.

“Look, I already told you I find you cute. You just seemed a bit arrogant at first so I never really bothered asking you out” she mirrored his seriousness, all of her sudden throwing her playful nature out the window “but then eventually as we attended classes together you seemed more uptight and reserved than arrogant and then you getting stood up yesterday gave me the perfect chance to come talk to you”

If Y/N was lying, she was doing a rather good job at it because judging by her body language, there were no signs of hesitation or nervousness and hence nothing for Aemond to decipher as a fib. If she was lying, he’d have to give her credit for being so effortless and convincing. Perhaps she could try for an acting job?

Still, he wasn’t going to let his guard down. He barely even knew her let alone like her.

“What the fuck is your problem man?”

The both of them turned to look at the person who’d raised his voice, gaining not only theirs but the entire cafe’s attention.

Aegon.

He was now standing up from his chair, his shades lifted up and placed on his head-like a hairband. There was another guy, around the same age as him, standing at his table with an annoyed expression.

Anyone who was looking at them could easily tell the both of them were in some sort of argument which was soon to result into a fight, judging by the fists clenched at their sides.

“You stole it from my apartment didn’t you?” The other guy snapped, grabbing Aegon by the collar of his hoodie.

Stupid move really because within a matter of a few seconds, Aemond was at his brother’s side, shoving the other dude aggressively.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy snapped, not happy about being pushed away so harshly “you his flunkey or some shit?”

“Piss off” Aemond spat, a sneer forming at the tag given to him.

“Be a good boy and just fuck off will you?” Aegon added, now getting a sudden surge of confidence with his brother at his side.

Aemond had already hurled a shit-ton of insults at his brother in his head. This wasn’t the first time he’d rushed to his brother’s aid but it annoyed him when it was causing a disruption while he was out on a date.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked as she too joined the Targaryen brothers, making sure to throw a dirty look toward the other guy. She didn’t know what had happened but if Aemond didn’t seem to like the bloke, then she too didn’t like him.

“Great one of your bitches has come to defend you as well” he cackled sarcastically. A sound so annoying that Y/N wanted to seal her ears shut with cement so that she might never have to hear him again “his dick really that good that you’ll jump into a fight for the asshole?”

Aemond could practically feel the wave of rage wash over him and not only because he was talking to his date in such a vulgar manner. He just genuinely did not like it one bit when anyone addressed a lady with even an ounce of disrespect; one could praise his mother for the upbringing.

Much to his surprise, Y/N beat him to it and stepped up to the guy and punched him hard across the face that sent him stumbling back a few steps as he clutched his nose.

“You bitch!” He snapped, grunting with pain as he took a menacing step toward her but Aegon was quick to shove the boy back once again.

“Just go” he said, voice low with warning and after throwing each of them a look dripping with hatred, he pushed past the boys and left the coffee shop by the second exit toward the far right.

“Nice punch” Aegon complimented the girl who simply shrugged and smiled proudly.

“What did you do this time?” Aemond asked, letting out a frustrated sigh. He often times wondered how he was the younger one.

“I mean I kinda-“

“Boys” Y/N’s voice interrupted them before Aegon could provide any explanation. They followed her gaze when she nodded her head toward something in the distance. When they turned, they saw that same guy who got his nose broken by Y/N, now talking to a group of his friends outside the cafe, who just looked like they were up to no good. They watched as the dude pointed toward them through the glass and immediately all eyes were on the three of them.

“Yea, let’s leave this place. We don’t wanna start a fight in here” Aegon nervously chuckled, quickly fishing out some money from his pocket and slamming it on the table, not even caring that it was too much for what the three of them had ordered.

Rich people.

As the three of them left from the other entrance, they kept sneaking glances at the group who had now started to walk toward them.

“You think we’re afraid of you cunts?” Y/N confidently shouted, letting out a sarcastic chuckle “my boys can take on all of you and your dads”

Both Aegon and Aemond’s eyes widened. No, there was no way they could take on all of them, forget adding their dads to it.

“You guys wanna go? Come on I’ll show you fuckers what a fucking fight is” she taunted them as both brothers behind her gulped nervously “you assholes won’t even recognise each other by the time we’re done with you, right boys?”

“R-right” Aegon sheepishly answered.

Wrong.

“Let’s go?” Y/N enthusiastically asked.

“Yes let’s go” Aemond answered softly.

The entire group of boys came running toward them and Y/N ran barely a few steps forward when she felt Aemond grab her hand and drag her along with him.

“Not toward them you idiot, the other way!” He snapped as he ran after Aegon, pulling Y/N with him.

“What- guys-“ the girl seemed to be confused as to why they were running away “we can take them-“

“No we can’t” Aegon yelled from the front “we’re not John Wick”

The three of them ran at full speed down the road, gaining a few disappointed stares from the other civilians, as the group of boys chased after them- hurling insults hoping they might stop to retaliate.

“My car is parked around this turn” Aegon shouted, pointing toward the left “get in and-“

“But-“

“Fucks sake, we’re not fighting them Y/N” Aemond interrupted her, almost out of breath from the running.

Gods, she was really something. He knew she was an outgoing fireball but he didn’t think she was bold enough to instigate a bunch of dirtbags into a fight and then actually attempt to take on all of them at once. Did she want to visit the hospital?

As Aegon promised, his gold Ferrari portofino was parked a few meters away from where they turned left. He’d left the roof down of his convertible which was convenient since they could just jump in.

Aemond made sure to lift Y/N into the car first, just in case the little dragon decided to play 'knight in shining armour' and attempt to go after those blokes anyway. He hopped into the passenger seat soon after, just as Aegon started his car.

He could hear the chaotic shouts of those idiots as they got closer and wondered why the car still wasn’t in motion.

“Drive you idiot!” Aemond snapped when he caught Aegon admiring himself in his side view mirror instead of getting them out of there.

“I’m going I’m going!” The older boy hissed as he gassed the pedal and drove off, minutes before the others got in close proximity with his precious car.

There was a few minutes of absolute silence before Y/N burst out laughing, something that left Aemond confused and Aegon amused.

“That was awesome” she giggled, looking behind her, as if she was half expecting for those boys to still be chasing them.

“I know right?” Aegon joined her, smiling from ear to ear after that little chase gave him a rush “I like her brother, she’s fun”

“Shut up, both of you” Aemond scolded “what did you even do?”

“Stole some of his weed” Aegon shrugged, as if that was something no one should ever take offence to “but I wasn’t going to admit that to him”

Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose.

The gods hate me, he inwardly groaned. Since when did he take on the job to babysit his older brother?

“Cool ride” Y/N commented and Aegon smiled proudly to himself.

“Sunfyre’s a real beauty isn’t she?” He gripped the steering wheel, winking at himself through the mirror “got her for my eighteenth birthday”

Aemond only scoffed. Not only did his brother manage to ruin his date but now he was smiling like an idiot while boasting about his car after he dragged them into what could’ve been a horrible fight.

“We could have been in an ambulance instead of your car, you know that right?” Aemond raised a brow and Aegon only blew a raspberry in response.

Real mature.

“Sorry about this-“

“This was fun” the girl cut him off, throwing her head back and basking in the satisfying feeling of the wind blowing against her face.

Aemond turned around in his seat to look at her; She looked breathtaking with her eyes closed and her hair elegantly flowing behind her with the wind, her cheeks flushed from all that exercise of running.

She was panting, still trying catch her breath and for a fleeting moment, a rather sinful thought crossed Aemond’s mind.

Does she look like this while panting after sex? Fuck no- stop it, bad boy.

“So” her sweet voice snapped him out of his abashed daze and when he looked at her again her eyes were open and gazing into his “when are we going on a second date?”

Chapter inspo >>>

Taglist: @melsunshine @yentroucnagol @alexa4040

[tally-kiza]

A New Addition

You come home to a very pleasant surprise from Arthur. Words: 2025

(This was supposed to be a 500ish word drabble. And I had 3 drawings to work on that should take priority over this. But the muse struck and I ran with it. Oops, haha.)

Your apartment is quiet when you arrive home. Tall lamps cast the living room in warm inviting light, the windows shutting out the oppressive darkness of night. You make a small noise of surprise as you kick off your shoes in the entryway and deposit your keys on the console table. Arthur always gets home before you; normally when you yourself arrive home from work, Arthur will be puttering away either in the living room or kitchen, either collapsed on the couch watching a vintage film or cobbling together an early dinner for the two of you.

But all you’re met with is silence. 

“I’m home! Arthur?” you call out. 

A distant splash of water. “In here!” he calls, a smile in his voice.

Ah. You assume you’ll find him soaking in the tub, smoking through half a pack, as he is often wont to do after a stressful day at work. You’d joined him in the tub on those nights more than once even, when he chose to relax in other ways, and eagerness sparks in your tummy at the thought that you might get to have some more fun with him tonight.

But as you approach the bathroom door down the hall, slightly cracked open a few inches, you find a completely unexpected surprise on the other side.

The first thing your eyes catch are the sleeves of Arthur’s pale yellow button-down rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons popped open, and his hair pushed back out of his face. His expression is caught somewhere between a squint of concentration and tender joy. The sight alone of his handsome visage alone is enough for butterflies to flutter within your chest. The second thing you notice is how he’s leaning over the pedestal sink, massaging lathered soap into the water-slickened fur of a small, squirming kitten.

“Oh, goodness,” a wide smile overtakes your face as you dart to Arthur’s side. “Arthur...”

Arthur’s crows feet crinkle as his smile turns shy. A strand of his bangs falls in front of his face.  “Surprise?”

It mustn’t have been more than a couple months old. The kitten was a skinny little thing, with long white fur with large black patches. Wiry whiskers were bent, a small corner of its ear missing. You could just spy that it had little white paws, a stark contrast from black legs. The kitten squirms and splashes further in the small water-filled sink, though as Arthur’s thumbs move to massage behind its ears, it quiets. Its blue eyes squint half-shut and it almost sags against his hands. You’ve never seen a cat look so relaxed.

Arthur must’ve been fully focused on the kitten since the moment he got home, if he hadn’t even changed into his house clothes or turned on his favorite oldies radio station.

 “Where’d you find this lil’ guy?” you coo.

“Cardboard box in an alleyway. I spotted him on the way home from work. He looked hungry. And dirty.” The cloudy water was a testament to that. 

Arthur continues, voice growing softer. He doesn’t meet your eyes. “He was all alone...”

“And you couldn’t leave him,” you finish when he trails off. 

He worries his bottom lip. 

A warmth blooms in your chest. Arthur had always struggled connecting with his peers, you knew this, on both a social level and empathetic. You’d talked about it at length together often late at night when he couldn’t sleep and attempted to find solace in your arms. How he’d spent so many years waiting for anyone to see him. To show that they cared. Of the fluffy black cat he used to daydream about, one that lived with him and Penny, who would listen to him when no one else would. When he lacked companionship with others, at least he’d always found comfort knowing that animals wouldn’t care about his quirks. (“Quirks.” Your words, not his. You’d vehemently disagreed with him when he’d described himself as “fucked up,” instead.)

Arthur had seen a creature in need and reached out to help it. Just as he’d always needed. He’d found a cat just like the one he’d always dreamed of. 

Your heart melts in your chest into a lovesick puddle. You lean into him and connect your lips with his in a tender kiss. A small noise of surprise hums in his throat, before his eyes flutter shut and he deepens your connection. His sopping hand caresses your flank and hip, thoroughly soaking your shirt with suds, though neither of you hardly even spare it a moment's notice.

You break away first and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head on his shoulder. Arthur’s eyes remain closed, though you can feel more than see the heat of the flush on his face.

“You’re very sweet, you know that?” you sigh.

Arthur ducks his head, silently preening as he always does whenever he’s under the spotlight of your compliments.

Water splashes; the kitten mewls, restlessness renewing without Arthur’s full attention. Without hesitating, Arthur switches his focus back to it. He fills a small cup you hadn’t noticed before with fresh water and gently pours it over the kitten, carefully rinsing off the suds of the soap. As he works, like before the kitten drifts back into that happy, squinting state. Its pupils become quite dilated. 

You assist Arthur how you can, mostly chatting with him while watching him work. Has he fed the kitten yet? Yes, as soon as he got home, along with a bowl of water. Did he have a collar or identification? No―and after a bit more prodding from you: even the box he’d found him in was unmarked. And questions of Arthur’s day as well―did his gig at the grand re-opening of a two decade old mall go well? It went fine, he’d said, though it went unsaid how he’d felt unnecessary there. (It was a big enough event as is; it didn’t need a clown like him there. Most of the burgeoning crowd of Gothamites had ignored him, as they often did whenever he worked with crowds. But it hadn’t stopped him from putting on his best happy face and working as hard as ever to garner attention and smiles.)

Before long, Arthur’s draining the water in the basin and drying off the kitten with a small, cream-colored towel. He works carefully, especially as he gently dries its face and ears. Impossibly, your heart melted further, all your blood rushing to the flush on your face. The kitten's fur sticks out in all directions, its eyes wide as saucers of milk. A far cry from its previous tranquil state. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say this cat wanted to go back into the bath. As Arthur worked, however, you could tell he was mulling something over. There was a tenseness in his face, a knot in his brows, a distance in his eyes.

You tuck a piece of his bangs back. Arthur startles back into awareness, green eyes darting to yours.  “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

He averts his gaze again and goes silent for a few long moments. You give him the time to work out putting his thoughts into words. Long enough to finish drying the kitten and wrap it fully in the blanket. It looks not dissimilar to a burrito, with its little fuzzy head poking out. It blinks owlishly.

In one quick breath, like he has to get it all out before he loses his nerve, Arthur blurts, “Can we keep him?”

You ought to be taken aback; the two of you aren’t exactly living paycheck to paycheck, but finances get tight sometimes and you know caring for a cat on top of that would only strain your wallets further. But... the hopefulness written on his face, more plain than the text in any book, with shining eyes and a vulnerable heart, crushes any resistance you may have. It’s crystal clear how much he cares for the little bundle of fur in his arms. 

Soft purrs fill the silence as you think; Arthur’s gentle petting lulling it back into pleased relaxation.

You soften, a smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I certainly can’t separate the two of you, can I? I think he loves you already.”

Arthur’s face lights up, an eager smile spreading wide and his brows shooting up in near disbelief. “Really?”

With a tug to his arm, you lead him into your shared bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed together. The kitten doesn’t seem to mind as he’s repositioned in Arthur’s arms and subsequently set down on soft, forest green bedding. 

“We can pop down to the pet store tomorrow for supplies,” you say. Your hold on his wiry arm slides down to intertwine your fingers with his. Arthur beams impossibly brighter. “But in the meantime, I think we have enough cans of tuna to tide this little guy over.”

“Yeah... Y’know, I’ll take good care of him,” he says, as if still trying to convince you. As if you’d think he was burdening you. By now, the kitten had wriggled out of his wrap and had taken it upon himself to explore the strange new world of your bed. “You won’t have to worry about him making a mess, or bothering you―”

“Arthur.” He freezes. You squeeze his hand tighter. Grounding him. “I want this just as much as you do. You don’t have to worry about taking this all upon yourself. We’re a partnership, remember?”

Almost more to himself than you, he responds quietly, “I know. Sorry.”

Not for the first time, your heart breaks. He apologizes so much. He’s gotten better about it over your two years of dating, but you still ached for him every time it happened. How often has he had to apologize to his mother, his peers, his coworkers just for expressing his worries? You pull him into a tight hug; if only you could squeeze away all his pain and sorrows. Arthur’s arms settle around you loosely, though he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you remind him.

He nods back silently, Adam’s apple bobbing. His hold tightens around you. Even if he struggles expressing it, you know he tries to take it to heart, couple it with the advice his new therapist often gives him, a patchwork chisel to cobble away at his insecurities.

The poignance is broken by the pricks of sharp tiny claws digging into your thigh as the kitten takes it upon itself to join the conversation. He crawls into your lap as your hug with Arthur breaks off. You try and fail to smother a wince of pain. Arthur laughs softly at the kitten's antics, and you playfully scowl at him. To your relief, it mewls at him and crawls into his lap instead. He doesn’t react to the pricks of claws on his legs, instead taking it into his arms once again to resume petting and scratching it behind the ears.

“So,” you breathe, “any ideas for a name? I don’t think he can just stay, ‘that kitten,’ forever.”

Arthur’s smile quirked up again, bashful this time. “I did have one idea. I like it a lot.”

“Oh?”

“What about... Francis?”

“Franc― Oh,” understanding dawns on you as the kitten's bright blue eyes dart to you again, and you chuckle. “I see. Francis. Frank. Ol’ Blue Eyes, himself, huh?”

Playfulness glints in Arthur’s eyes and he shrugs with one shoulder. “It suits him, don’t you think?”

You look hard at the kitten that weighs at most 6 pounds sopping wet, with frazzled fur and twitching whiskers, looking about as far from Sinatra’s jovial dignity as a living creature could get. Then up at Arthur again, the sheer amount of love radiating off him for this tiny feline he’d only found two hours ago. 

Warmth blooming within your chest and a lovestruck grin pulling at your lips, you lean against Arthur, and stroke your preening kitten alongside him. Francis. To stroke Francis.

“Yeah. I think it sounds perfect.”

[ashdreams2023]

hey there! this may be an odd request but can you do something where it’s like avengers x reader and maybe like Nat, tony and others try to set up reader on dates but she keeps trying to back out and then gets an argument with them and admits that she’s aromantic?? (I hope this makes sense lmao)

thank u lovely :)

Sure honey it’s ok

Avengers x fem reader {platonic}

Stop it!

Your coffee got cold as you were for the lack of word…speechless, the guy sitting across from you was rambling around his collection of vintage cars for the past hour and it wasn’t that the topic was boring it was just you couldn’t utter a word the entire time and it got worst when he admitted that he expected a hot spy like Natasha and an average looking girl that’s usually called cute instead of smoking hot.

The minute you had a chance to speak you excused yourself to the bathroom and walked out of the cafe and never looked back.

Natasha was disappointed to say the least, even though you told him you rather not date anyone now but she insisted that you might click with this one guy from the tech department.

"I told you he’s not her type, I know this smoking hot ceo who would love to take you on a nice dinner on her private island"

You blinked at Tony then took a step back "Tempting but I’m not really interested now…"

Wanda then appeared from behind you with the biggest grin on her face "Oh ignore them I have the perfect match for you! He works in the bakery down town and literally has the cutest little British accent"

"Hey no thank-"

"What about a warrior my friend? I know a well respected one from Asgard!"

"Thor not you too! Get none of you get it stop!"

"But finding a suitable mate is only nature for a young girl like yourself" said vision and that was your last straw.

Bruce just shook his head as you ran out the room and got on your motorcycle for a ride, away from all their love matching attempts.

You drive until you were out of the main part of new York and sat by a cliff, it was the most quiet you’ve felt all week.

"I see you came here as expected" your sighed in defeat at the voice of Steve coming closer to earshot.

"There’s no escaping is there?"

He chuckled and sat beside you on the cliff "I heard about your date…wasn’t so…glamorous ha?"

You snorted then sniffed "No one listens, why is it so hard for everyone to understand that I don’t want to date!" You turned your head towards him.

He stared at you for a minute then looked back at the view "Have you explained why? I mean why would a young beautiful woman not want to find someone that gives her butterflies?"

"…what if I can’t experience that?"

"Of course you will with the right person one day-"

"No!…Steve I don’t- I can’t feel romantic love, I feel platonic love, any sort of love but not that…and I have tried and it always ends the same way, I’m aromatic Steve"

Steve seemed caught off guard which you expected since he was probably familiar with term but you didn’t expect was the bushes moving from behind and the whole team popping up.

"Why didn’t you just say so? I just thought you didn’t find anyone good enough" said tony.

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck and looked apologetic while the others just seemed guilty.

"…uh, I should’ve said something earlier but yeah…"

The group all apologized for basically harassing you into dating when you had not intention of doing so.

"The more you know" said Steve.

You chuckled "The more you know"