#also i finally figured out how to make the words any colour i want and i am OBSESSED over that on artfight so good luck. im being insane

[hershelwidget]

I just went on an MSM Steam Audio File Deepdive and I have come out with knowledge no man must ever seek (the most batshit insane sorting system I have EVER seen like what the FUCK was BBB ON)

i i have two twitter threads about that nonsense Here and Here if you're interested in watching me lose my sanity

None of them are really spoilers or such BUT IF YOU FIND A WAY TO ACCESS THE FILES YOURSELF

DO N O T CLICK THIS ONE:

THAT IS THE EARTH ISLAND COLOSSAL SOUND. IT'S ALREADY IN THE FILES AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT UNTIL IT OFFICIALLY RELEASES DO NOT OPEN THAT FILE.

I am trying my best to avoid being a Leaker here!! Cause that is stinky! However if you DON'T care about spoilers go right on ahead and open that file. This is just a warning for those who don't like being leaked info. Happy file exploration!

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini nini hate fuck with either blade or dan heng pls I beg 🥺💝

I finished this some days ago and it got deleted- also it’s unnecessarily long, and I’m not sure if it’s good… hope you like it anyway 😭😭

Dom!reader x sub!blade (reader is gender neutral)

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), chocking, slapping (once), degrading, rough sex, blood (hand injury)

Riiiip

The sound of bandage being ripped.

Blade wrapped his hand with the white cloth, biting one end to tied the other end around it. Slowly the pure colour got tainted with his blood, a crimson colour spreading and seeking though the fabric. He sighed, staring at his own hand with a distaste on his tongue, before glancing at the door. Heavy footsteps could be made out from the other side. Loud and hectic, stomping even. You must have noticed his arrival.

It was just as he predicted. Moments after he finished treating his injury the door got slammed open, a loud bang as the door hit the wall. Your figure stood in the frame, stopping, not entering his chamber. Instead you glared at him and scanned the situation. He instantly noticed how your gaze lingered around his injured hand, and how you were frowning. The man chose to not elaborate, hence you two were holding a starring contest. After a while you closed the door behind you and walked over to him, grabbing his wrist and yelled, “now do you care to explain?”

He knew exactly why you were so angry, but that doesn’t mean he understood it. Not giving him any time to explain himself, something he wouldn’t have done anyway, you continued your nagging, “why do you have to keep going on dangerous missions alone? I can’t reach you at all! It’s not like you use your phone after all.” You stopped for a second, still holding his wrist while he avoided your gaze, gritting your teeth in anger. With an impatient tone you said, “I’m waiting for an answer.”

If it were up to blade, then you could wait until the sun sets. He wasn’t a man of many words, and he didn’t believe he had to tell you everything. That was if it was up to him, because he knew it would get worse if he doesn’t say anything. With his usual deep voice, he uttered, “I wanted to practice.” This was the best excuse he could think of, practicing his sword. It was reasonable, no? “Practice? It’s more like you wanted to get hurt.” “Not get hurt, I wanted to..” he didn’t really want to say ‘die’ in this context, and you didn’t pursue it any further neither. You sighed at him, followed by a rough push from your hands. The male fell backwards, now laying on his back, stabilising himself with his hands.

“Lay down.” You ordered, and yanked the arm with the injured hand away, you didn’t want him to keep using that hand so much. The spot where his hand was has been tainted red. He glanced at you hesitatingly, his dark blue bangs almost covered his entire face. Soon he obeyed your command and laid on his back, you were still raising his arm up into the air. “Keep it raised.” Once again, you gave him another cold order. How did it escalate to this? He was pretty sure he knew what you were going to do, yet he didn’t mind. Just then his speculations were correct, and you pulled his pants down.

He smirked, it was a mocking one, as if he was laughing at you. At this sudden unexpected change in atmosphere. After a bit he asked with a challenging tone, “did the sight of me hurt turn you on?” You knew he was playing now, so why not join in? “Have you finally decided to speak, now that I’m in your pants?” Your hands grabbed his knees, raising them to his chest and folding him apart. It wasn’t about doing him a favour, so you just proceeded to manhandle him, making him spread his legs for you. “So eager, aren’t you? Give me a break.” Blade said, but he allowed you to do whatever you wanted without resisting. Without giving him any glances, you replied “Same goes to you.”

Even though you two shared such a foul mouthed conversation, the advances you did on him continued. Then you stood up, walked around the room for a bit and came back with a bottle of lube. The blue haired man looked at you awkwardly and waited, feeling a little stupid at the situation in front of him. As soon as you came back, you started working on his abdomen. Opening the bottle, squeezing some of the lube onto his half erect shaft. The cold liquid made him flinch slightly, and he frowned as he watched you keep coating him with that slippery fluid. It flowed all the way down to his hole, and his rim clenched. What a roundabout way to prepare him, he thought you were being unnecessarily childish.

With one of your fingers, you sloppily spread the contents of the bottle around his lower body. Somehow the mood was getting heavier with every second and he didn’t know what to say, until your little comments returned. “Getting exited, little pervert?” You also coated your own dick with the lube, before lining it up with his entrance. “So much that you stopped talking, cat got your tongue?” He wasn’t going to let you go away with that, or at least that’s what he planned. Instead of coming up with a snarky remark he had to bite his lip to stop a moan erupting from his throat.

“Gu-Mhn..! You- fuck..” his eyes widened a little, and he was furrowing his brows even more than before. You sticked it in without some proper preparation, and it caught him off guard. Since you used a lot of lube, the tip still slipped in, but the rest was starting to get difficult. He wanted to curse at you, yet the words didn’t come out, so he just hold it and glared at you. If you didn’t know him you’d think he wants you dead, even so you weren’t pleased by that, so you chuckled, “not with those eyes, bladie. I’m sure your hole can take it, after I fucked it so good last time.” “Shut up- ugHh..! You.. shit.” Suddenly his hand reached out to you. You didn’t know what he was trying to do, which is why you grabbed his arm and kept it in place. His hand was now in the air, some blood drops were dripping onto his belly.

“Keep your pawns to yourself.” You had such an annoying smile while you said that, especially so while you pushed the rest of your length in. “UHh..! Mhm-nGghH..” the male was still trying his best to keep quiet, making some grunts and groans on the way. Fuck, if this was under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be able to keep his hand still like this, he was sure he was stronger. Though this wasn’t a normal situation, with you inside him, spreading him open with your cock. It was strange but he felt a little vulnerable, and so hot.

Sweat was forming on his skin, face turning redder by the second. It must be because he just came back from a mission, he is tired, thats why he is feeling all this heat. He blinked, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling, noticing his heart rate going up and body twitch each time you touch him. When he opened his eyes again you were inches away from his face, startling him a little. With a gentle whisper, unlike your tone before, you mumbled into his ear, “you want to get hurt? I’ll make it hurt.”

The face of the male was crimson red now, matching the colour of his hand. He took a tad longer to process the information, and you didn’t give him that moment. You started moving without giving him a warning, hips snapping against his at an already rough pace. “Ugh-uUugGh..!! Wa-waAaaiit.., oh- fuck, fuck. It mhm.. hurts.” Blade clenched his fists, more red coated his tummy. You slowed down a little, intertwining your fingers with his injured hand, not minding the blood sticking to your palms. Then you resumed to your previous movements, pounding into him like there’s so tomorrow.

The switched between your gentleness and relentless actions made his head spin. He really tried to keep the noise down but to no avail. Without him noticing you went down again to whisper more dirty things into his brain, like calling him degrading names. Blade wrapped his other hand over your neck, gasping and whining as you kept going, whispering as a begging voice, “please.. ah, haah..” “does it hurt?” He answered without thinking, “a-a bit.., uhhh..” to which you asked again, “do you hate it?”

Both of you knew what he would answer, and he didn’t want to cover up the truth as he uttered the words, “no, I love it.” That’s when the insulting really hit off, now that you were sure he enjoyed it too. “You really only go into fights because you’re a fucking masochist, aren’t you?” He shook his head, suddenly so expressive unlike before. “You sure you aren’t actually a male prostitute? Hmm blade? You fucking whore.” Even though you were calling him such hurtful name with such fever, he only felt hotter. The trust and the feeling of your dick rubbing against his walls was unreal, like a dream. And he wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or not.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave like that again.” You said, panting a little too since you were still rutting into him like a damn animal. Despite all those hateful words, there was no way you actually hated him. You were angry because you cared, that’s all. And he knew it as well. Now your own hand looked like a grotesque mess, mixed with his and stuck to the bandages. He also didn’t feel pain anymore, or rather, it was because the pleasure was too overwhelming. It was all too much, from the way it rubbed against his deepest parts, to the fast pace you set. This felt so good he could cry.

When he still didn’t nod to your demand, you stopped holding his hand, they both instead reached out to his neck. The pale skin was now tainted red on one side. You squeezed down onto his trachea, watching his mouth hung open. “Did you understand me, blade?” He chocked, hand meekly reaching out to yours out of reflex. But he didn’t use any strength to keep you from suffocating him, only staring at you through his clouded vision. You thought you saw the corners of his mouth going upwards into a smile, and you watched his face get even redder. After a while you stopped, he immediately inhaled and panted. A bodily reaction, nothing he could control.

“I still haven’t gotten my answer.” You reminded him and started fucking into him again, at a slower pace. He trembled, his hole clenching around you even more now that you were moving so gently. It was way too late for that, after you’ve been so rough with him, no? Because now it’s not enough for him anymore, he needed you harder and deeper. Out of nowhere he felt a harsh slap on his cheek, causing him to shake. “Ah..” the male whimpered, eyes gazing up at you. You looked at him like he was vermin, akin to one would look at an insect. This alone caused a shiver to run down his spine and an uncomfortable twitch at his lower body.

He knew you wanted him to agree, but he didn’t want to, he wished to keep fulfil those missions on his own. This wasn’t something you could change, and he wasn’t willing to lie to you. Instead of answering your question, he grabbed your hand with his, and begged prettily. In a submissive tone, with a sweet pleading voice he said, “please, it’s not enough… I want you so deep inside me.” You noticed him spread his legs wider for you, and his injured hand being thrown over his mouth. Then he licked some of his own blood off.

You knew he won’t listen to you, after so many tries you knew. So instead of trying any longer, maybe you should go along with his request? Even if it leaves a bad taste on your tongue…

[fictionismyreality3]

Hiiiiii I'm SO SO SO MADLY IN LOVE with your Stalker!Jason fic, the way you wrote it was just UGH TAKE ME (sure did put me to some quality sleep there).

I was hoping if you would write about Classmate!Jason (n kinda stalk-ish) where he is protective n stuff towards reader (much like sunshine x grumpy trope)

Love love loveeeeee your writing🖤🖤🖤

-🦇anon-

Make You Pay

Jason Todd x Reader

You’re my second emoji anon and as such I have adopted you and will not take no for an answer 😇

Tags: classmate!jason, stalker!jason, possessive!jason, jealous!jason, angry!jason, innocent!reader if you look really hard

Warnings: allusions to violence, motorcycles, stalking

Notes: no hate to surfer dudes ☮️

Your pencil hit repeatedly on the dark wood of the desk, sending little taps echoing throughout the otherwise quiet library. You had an exam in two weeks and were already struggling through the study material your professor provided for you. Passing this class seemed like a mile away. How the hell were you going to pass your biology final if the only thing you remembered was that mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell?

The only thing keeping you going at this point was picturing the cute faces of the puppies, kittens and other animals you’d get to help once you’d graduated. Using the last of your willpower, you moved on to the next slide deck, only for your laptop to give out on you, the screen going black. As if your day couldn’t get any worse.

“Hey, baby, come take a break from studying.”

Okay, maybe you spoke a little too soon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the curly, blonde headed figure of Holden coming your way, a sneer on his face. Despite the fact that your skin was crawling from the pet name, you began to hastily pack up your stuff, pretending not to see him.

It wasn’t that you were the type of girl to be complacent with poor intentioned men, but Holden had obviously taken your first day of class friendless a little too close to his heart.

“C’mon, baby. I know you see me.” He said, his words with an undertone of slimy sarcasm.

Sighing to yourself, you shoved the last of your papers into your bag and turned to face him, plastering a smile on your face as you began walking to the library exit.

“Sorry, I really have to go, my friends are waiting for me.” You said politely.

Making a beeline for the exit, you glanced back at Holden, hoping he didn’t follow you, and bumped into someone, your book bag scattering across the floor.

Big, calloused hands filled your field of view, handing you your books as you frantically gathered your things. Your gaze was met with the blue-green eyes of Jason Todd.

He wasn’t someone you knew very well, usually sitting in the back of the lecture halls where you preferred the front, but you’d seen him riding around campus on his motorcycle. From the limited interaction you did have with him, his lips always seemed to be pressed in a thin line of annoyance, or pulled down in a soft frown. So, you always tried your best to cheer him up, but the most you’d ever earned was a little snicker after a ridiculously bad joke.

You wondered why he had so much to frown about.

Before now, Jason hadn’t taken much notice of you, the bubbly girl who seemed to constantly radiate some level of happiness. At most he found you less annoying than then rest of the people on campus. Maybe it was because you looked so startled, innocently glancing between him and that blonde dickhead who was constantly on your ass. Maybe it was how he noticed your hands were so much smaller than his, brushing against his skin as he handed you your notebook.

Maybe it was because you were on your hands and knees, but Jay suddenly noticed the pretty colour of your hair, and the way your clothes reflected your sunny personality. Your eyes were a little more captivating and he found himself wanting to reach out and run his thumb along your bottom lip.

He also wanted to break the nose of that surfer looking idiot who was still talking.

“Here, don’t let ‘em bother you, sweetheart.” Helping you up, Jason ushered you to continue to wherever you were going. “Thank you?” You mumbled confused, the pet name hugging you like a warm blanket.

As you were practically pushed out the library doors, you looked back to see Jason exchanging words with Holden, who was getting more and more disagreeable. You were never the type to get involved in trouble, so you quickly turned on your heel and walked away.

When he was done with asshole Henry.. Harry? Jason didn’t care, he made his way to his bike, pulling out his phone and opening up an app, technology courtesy of Bruce. He wanted to make sure you got back to the dorms safely, and the tracker he’d slipped in your book bag would ensure that.

It wasn’t anything sinister, Jason just knew now that he had found something far too precious for this world, something that was too sweet and gentle to take care of itself. That’s okay.

He would take care of you now.

You saw Jason again a few days later. Holden didn’t show up to class that week, and nobody commented on Jay’s bloody knuckles.

[90sbee]

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers.  She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

 “… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet. 

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death…  She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

[lanabuckybarnes]

So bit of a weird scenario I have in my head that I wanted to share with you all.

Once again I’m writing more of Sgt Barnes but can you blame me.

Pairing: Sgt Barnes x reader

Warnings: None I believe.

-

Back in the 40s, before the world went to shit, you, Bucky and Steve were an inseparable trio. Where one went the others followed, although most of the time it was Steve third-wheeling you both. You and Bucky weren’t together, no, you were just close friends. Steve would scoff whenever they’d both say it, you’d both be wrapped up in each other’s arms and deny it.

The truth was, both of you were idiots, Steve had been the guy you’d both turn to when it came to gushing over each other. He still couldn’t figure out how you two never saw the heart eyes you’d give each other. You never got to confess your love to Bucky till much later, you lost him for 70 years after he fell from that train, after you were captured by Hydra also. When you finally met, your feelings for each other were far too much and you spilt over a bottle of old fashioned whiskey, life was good after that. Then you lost him again.

-

Tony, Steve and you return to the past to retrieve the stones, unfortunately Loki steals it before any of you were able to grab it. You’d have to travel much further back, to around 1943, before Bucky’s capture.

Since you were familiar with the area Steve and Tony trusted you to scout out ahead before they moved in. You never expected a group of drunk men to corner you into an alley and just your luck, your comms had stopped working making you unable to call for backup. You’d have to fight them yourself.

You’d gotten the upper hand for the most part, 3 of the 4 men lay nursing wounds but the 4th man had caught you unaware, when your back was turned he’d grabbed a pipe raising it high above his head as you turned to watch, your eyes closing at the impending attack- only for the pipe to not hit you at all.

“You think it’s cool to hit a woman punk”. The words were polluted with rage. The alley reverberated the crack of fist against bone, a howl following after. the man who’d almost broken your skull lay blubbering on the floor, blood pooling from between his fingers.

“You alright?” The man asked, you finally raised your eyes from his pale green pants to his face.

Your beating heart stopped, heaving breaths caught in your throat and tears welling in your eyes. It was him, those steel blue orbs unmistakable. It had been so long since you had seen that colour.

His brows quirked in confusion at your gawking face, he felt exposed.

“Hellooo” he tried again, this time it was enough to break you from your trance. You took note of his outstretched hand and grasped it gently, allowing him to pull you up close to him.

“Hmm doesn’t look like theirs much damage” he hummed his thumb running over a graze on your cheek, his mouth frowning slightly at your wet eyes. You wondered what the repercussions would be if he recognised you, or if you ran away with him.

“Are you ok?” Steve's voice broke out through the small earpiece but you couldn’t reply, still entranced by Bucky’s deep blue eyes.

“You know it’s crazy, I feel like I know you” Bucky laughed his hand fell from your face to tuck itself into his pocket. Oh shit, play it off, play it off!

“Oh yeah heh… must just have a normal-looking face” you retorted while looking away, desperately trying to conceal your face without it looking obvious. Bucky just hummed through pursed lips, unconvinced at your explanation.

After a beat, you cleared your throat and pulled away from him. “Well I gotta go, thanks for helping me” With one last longing look you left him in that alley. Rubbing at your eyes to hide the tears from Tony and Steve.

‘What a confusing woman’ Bucky’s head shook at the encounter before a flicker of gold caught his attention. With ease, he squatted down to have a look, at a pendant, a very old-fashioned-looking one. Picking it up he rolled it around in his fingers, inspecting its fine detail, suddenly it popped open.

Two photos laid delicately inside it, Bucky and you in the 40s, one he recognised instantly and a much more recent one taken by Sam when you weren’t looking. You were both on a fancy looking motorbike, your face contorted with laughter while Bucky’s eyes watched you from over his shoulder— even from the photo he could tell his eyes were swimming with love, that same love he felt for the other version of you.

How did he not notice before. He mentally kicked himself at his blindness, only a fool would completely miss something like that.

Tony and Steve were waiting for you when you got back to your meeting spot, their brows furrowed at your dishevelled appearance, wondering how you’d got into a fight so quickly.

Just then Steve noticed something.

“Your pendant”

Your hand shot to your neck, it wasn’t there, they’d grabbed at it during the fight but you hadn’t expected it to fall off.

“I have to go back for it”, you begged but Steve only shot you a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, we have to go”

“But—”

“Are you looking for this?” His familiar voice vibrated your bones, your body reacting to it in the same way it always did.

He had his pendant dangling from between his fingers, a small smile decorating his features.

“My pendant” you sighed under your breath stepping forward to Bucky’s large structure, he tutted in response, pulling the pendant back.

Instead, he delicately turned your body and placed the pendant around your neck, fastening it once again with gentle fingers.

Spinning you around again his eyes met yours, the deep blue twinkling with specks of love. His fingers moved up your body till they found their spot on either side of your face. You were frozen in place.

“I'm glad he- I finally said something” his honey-toned voice broke the silence between you, a blush making its way onto his pale face as he contemplated whether or not he should go through with what his heart was telling him to do.

‘Fuck it’ he thought, pulling your face close to his. Sealing his plump lips over yours in a tender kiss.

With one last look into your eyes, he pulled back, hand still grasping at your own as he smiled.

“I’ll see you around” and with that, his hand slipped from yours as he turned. He’d left again with a promise— a promise that he’d fulfilled when he stepped through that gold circle of Strange’ and was back in your arms again, the cool metal fingers brushing over your face. You couldn’t wait to tell him about what had happened.

-

I’ve got so much smut in my drafts it’s actually unreal, who wants some?

This is a little thing I keep thinking about but idk if I’ve fleshed it out really and I’m having a little trouble with getting my emotions across in writing just now but meh.

Enjoy x

[moonyswritinq]

runs in the family — platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gn reader

❝ RUNS IN THE FAMILY ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Edwin had been dead for decades and you had wandered the earth as a ghost in search for him. Who would have thought that you would find him in a small town in America, just strolling down the street?

PAIRING ➢ platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ mentions of death, kind of flirty reader, not much more warning needed than that, takes place end of chapter three, so spoilers?? not beta read

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.7 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ seeing as the reader is written as a sibling to Edwin it is implied they are biologically related and therefore caucasian. But since I have not specified anything the reader could just as well be adopted and of another ethnicity, so I leave it up to be your choice.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

It had been a hundred years.

A century had gone by since you died. And still you had not managed to finish your business in order to move on to the afterlife. How could you? When your older brother had mysteriously gone missing from his boarding school, simply presumed dead, and labeled as ‘an act of God’ and nothing else had happened. No one made inquiries. No one bothered to try to do him justice.

No one cared.

And it infuriated you. So much to the point of taking up the quest of finding him yourself. But no one knew anything, nor cared to tell you anything, so you were unable to find anything worthy of interest. Edwin simply did not matter to anyone besides you—even your parents were frustratingly unhelpful. It broke your heart. You didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t care about its people. Luckily, you didn’t have to for long.

It happened a year after you graduated from high school, making you three years older than the age Edwin  had been when he disappeared. As soon as you’d completed school you had gotten out of your conservative town, opting to travel to London instead to settle down there. The aftermath of the war had just calmed down and you thought you could get a new start. You hadn’t entirely left the business of Edwin behind you, but knowing there was nothing more you could do for him settled your guilt slightly.

When you had finally started getting used to the idea of Edwin actually being gone and of the possibility of moving on with your life, you died. A simple case of wrong place, wrong time in a robbery. And you reckoned some part of you weren’t completely ready to let go of Edwin because you had woken up again, as a ghost.

It was strange at first, feeling nothing but still being there, invisible to everyone but yourself. And it hadn’t hurt much—you had died immediately.

What should have been a tragedy left you feeling nothing but relief. You were finally free from the world’s boundaries and rules and the idiotic people that wouldn’t help your brother. Then being able to travel anywhere you wanted, speak to other dead people, and uncover all the supernatural entities that had been hiding under your nose your whole living life was more than you could have wished for. Was it possible Edwin could also be somewhere? Wandering around as a ghost, the same as you?

The thought was too good to even hope to be true. As it turns out, it was.

You visited all the places Edwin had been or he had talked about going to or anywhere you could have imagined his ghost to have gone. But there were no signs of him—at least no signs that you could find. No one had any information about your brother. It almost left you feeling like how you had when you were alive. Your world had gone from the bright colours of hope back to the dull monochromaticity that your life had been.

For years you had wandered the planet, going from country to country, adapting to the changing years and humanity’s new technology. It interested you to figure out the new things that were invented and to keep up with the modern world—not to talk about all the different ghosts, people, and other supernatural beings you met. While it was nice to travel around without a clear goal, your mind was constantly stuck on the thought of your brother being alone somewhere.

You needn’t have worried though, you realised, when you had found yourself in the small town of Port Townshend, walking down the street and seeing a very familiar face. Right across the road, a figure clad in a brown coat was walking with an all too rigid posture and pursing his lips at the teenagers surrounding him. You were too stunned to speak, your tongue felt as if it were locked, unable to voice any of the jumble of thoughts currently bouncing through your mind.

“Edwin?” you croaked, voice strained as it fought against the constricting of your throat. You hurriedly ran to cross the road, narrowly missing a car. It wouldn’t have hurt, but habits die hard—even if it had been a hundred years since you were alive. And so you let out a loud curse, swivelling out of its path, “Oh, bloody hell!”

When you turned to continue to the other side of the street you already found a familiar pair of eyes locked onto yours. Edwin had stopped completely in his path and with his mouth agape, arms hanging by his side. You couldn’t fight the grin that made its way to your face and broke out in a run, crashing into his frame with a hug.

“Wha—” he stumbled, before embracing you back and nestling his face into your shoulder.

It felt as if he would never let you go by the grip he had on you—and you couldn’t blame him. It had been way too long since you had hugged him like this and you couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped you. It also felt weird hugging another ghost—it was like he was there and he wasn’t, but you could feel his presence in a way you couldn’t when you touched the living.

“It’s you,” you whispered, pulling away to grab him by the shoulders and really take him in. “It’s really you.”

Edwin looked just like you had remembered him to have looked when he disappeared. The same eyes, with which he always sent glares your way, and the same smile he hid in the corner of his lips by turning away from you, although it shone through at you then as a grin. He couldn’t help it, and neither could you.

“I—I never thought I would see you again,” he said.

You scoffed. “As if you could get rid of me that easily.” Then your eyes softened. “Though you scared me half to death.”

“More than half, it would seem,” he said, looking you up and down. “What are you still doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, a smile on your lips despite your soft tone. “You were my unfinished business.”

You went in for another hug with a chuckle, holding him even tighter as if he would disappear if you didn’t. All that worrying, all that searching, all that trouble you had gone through to find your brother and it was all finally worth it. The thought made you almost want to cry—almost. You pulled away then for real, letting the both of you go back to your regular composure as a relaxed grin settled against your lips and Edwin’s went back to hiding in the corner of his lips.

That was when you noticed the questioning stares from his three friends. They were all glancing back and forth between you in clear confusion. 

“Sorry, did everyone just see what I saw?” questioned the dark-haired girl with a frown, gesturing between the two of you. “Who are you?”

You smiled at her. “Forgive me for being rude. I forgot myself for a second,” you said with a glance at Edwin. “I’m y/n, Edwin’s sibling.”

The three of them stared in astonishment upon hearing the words uttered, again looking between you two.

“I see the resemblance now that you mention it,” said the tall boy.

You shot him a playful smile. “I’m clearly the better sibling, though.”

“As if,” scoffed Edwin and tugged at his cuff. “At least I am older.”

You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips. “Don’t know if that is actually true, anymore. I was alive longer than you were.”

“What? No.” He looked affronted at your words. “My birth was before yours and I am thus older than you.”

The boy next to him cleared his throat with a pointed glance. Edwin resumed to his usual composure, a curtain falling over his features as his bickering spirit died out. You let out a snicker, glancing between the four of them.

“You gonna introduce me to your handsome friends, Edwin?” you asked with a grin, eyeing the tall boy specifically.

Edwin glared at you. “Don’t,” he spit out, warning lacing through his tone. When you held up your hands in surrender he turned to his friends, gesturing to them all in turn with their names. “Y/n, this is Charles, Niko and Crystal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Niko’s soft voice said, hopping forward to give you a hug.

It caught you slightly off guard, but it was welcomed even though you couldn’t feel it as well as you could feel Edwin’s ghost hug. Crystal gave you a hesitant hand to shake and you took it enthusiastically with a smile. She smiled then, apparently less apprehensive. Charles also thrust out a hand along with a charming smirk.

“Any sibling of Edwin must be brills,” he said. “Also a ghost, by the way.”

You took his hand with an appreciative nod. “Did you hear that, Edwin? I’m brills,” you said and looked over your shoulder.

By doing so, you didn’t miss the soft gaze Edwin was looking at Charles with and nodded to yourself, smiling coyly. While you had learnt to adapt to the modern times, and even back then had always been quite open about yourself, Edwin was a shyer and more private person. You would let him work it out by himself.

“You know, I missed your miserable face,” you remarked, turning to nudge him with your elbow. “I also think we have a lot to catch up on, Edwin.” 

“I would say that is quite correct. We will take care of that, later,” he nodded in his stilted way. Weird as it was, you had missed his gestures.

When the four of them turned to keep walking, Niko suddenly let out a loud gasp. “There’s Monty, our new friend,” she exclaimed.

You turned to look where she was gesturing and saw a very handsome boy looking up when hearing his name. He smiled easily at the five of you and stood up from the bench he had been sitting on with a few books in hand. The boy, Monty, let out what sounded like a nervous chuckle while glancing between the group, definitely noting the closeness between you and Edwin.

“Hey. Wow, quite the crew you got here.”

“So, he’s alive and he can see the boys?” asked Crystal.

“Oh, he can definitely see Edwin,” replied Niko. You saw Monty smile at Edwin and turned to your brother with a questioning glance. He only shrugged.

When you turned back, you found Monty was already staring at you. His eyes were dark and thoughtful, jumping from your face to your clothes and your boots and your frame and your hair and your smirk—which spread even wider. His mouth opened in a silent gasp as he took in the sight of you. You could feel your lifeless cheeks warm with blood—if they could do that—and let your gaze skirt away nervously.

“Oh, hi, I, uh, don’t believe I have seen you before.” Monty smiled sheepishly at you and his voice was warm and sweet. “I feel, uh, like I would have remembered a face like yours.”

His face got redder the longer he talked and the more he tripped over his words. It was weirdly endearing and you smiled at him as his gaze jumped between you and Edwin.

“Edwin’s my brother,” you said. “I’m y/n. Also a ghost.”

“Charmed.” Monty’s grin grew wider. “I suppose good looks run in the family.”

You saw Edwin shift uneasily out of the corner of your eye and smiled at him. Monty’s unashamedly flirting was clearly not something Edwin was entirely ready for yet, but it only made the whole thing more amusing. And you couldn’t ignore the playful smirk Monty was giving you nor the glint in his eye.

“And I’m Charles. Nice to meet you, mate,” interrupted the other ghost, his own charming smile fixed on his lips, and extended a hand for Monty to take. “Any pal of Edwin’s is aces in my book.”

Monty’s lips pursed. “Yeah, sorry, hands are full,” he said, his voice suddenly cold and stand-offish.

He moved past you, closer to Edwin, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you. You smiled to yourself as you turned to the other three, looking back at Monty.

“I was polite, wasn’t I?” asked Charles. His voice sounded much smaller, almost insecure.

“Yeah, you did good,” replied Crystal and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leant closer to him. “Don’t take it personal just ‘cause you aren’t pretty enough to earn Monty’s kindness.”

Charles turned to you, affronted, and glared at your cheeky smile. “Oi, hurtful. I’m very pretty, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, glancing up at him. “And don’t you worry, Edwin knows it too.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You only shrugged, glancing back at your brother and Monty. You saw Edwin take the book from him, completely oblivious to the way his gaze was fixed on him, and Niko was unashamedly listening in on their conversation. You took the opportunity to study Monty’s feature’s more carefully, gazing at the ways his lips lifted ever so slightly, and how his eyes suddenly jumped to yours. Immediately, you looked away in shame at being caught staring at him and you were sure to be blushing if you were still capable of it. When you dared look back at him his eyes were yet again on Edwin, but his smirk a bit wider.

“Hey.” You looked to Charles again, nudging him in the side. “If Edwin doesn’t know, though, at least I do.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his grin widen as his eyes fixed on you. That was when Edwin glanced past Monty, meeting your eye briefly before flickering over to Charles. You noticed him hesitate in his reply to Monty and furrowed your brows. It wasn’t like your brother to be careful about his words. Crystal seemed to know what he was thinking as she suddenly brought her hands together.

“Ah, well,” she began, sighing with what sounded like very bad conviction, ”Axe-murder, suicide Groundhog Day drained me, so, uh… I’m gonna head up.”

You shot her a questioning glance but decided against asking her about it. Whatever Edwin and his group had been up to you had more than enough time to figure out. Now that you had found him, there was no chance you were letting him go.

Niko nodded at Crystal’s words, still caught up with whatever Edwin and Monty were speaking about. “Okay, I’ll be up soon,” she said.

Crystal sighed and went over to the other girl, taking ahold of her arm and dragging her away from the boys. You shot a questioning glance at Edwin, but he just nodded for you to go without him. Briefly, you met Monty’s gaze as well and were almost pinned to the spot by his smile before he turned back to your brother. You swallowed and made to walk away when you noticed Charles was still stuck to the same spot, his gaze pinned to Edwin.

“Come on, mate, let’s go.”

He scoffed but let himself be guided away to follow the other two. You heard the traces of Edwin and Monty’s conversation follow behind you, their voices floating through the air. Monty’s was melodic and it made you sigh at the sound of it.

“He’s very cute, isn’t he?” you asked Charles, nudging his side with your elbow.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

You weren’t sure you were talking about the same person.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark*Dream Part Two

Pairing: Robb x f!reader

Summary: After finding out the reader had a special dream about Robb, Robb decided to show the reader what he had dreamed about her.

Warnings: Smut, dom rob, f receiving oral, 18+

Word count: 3214

Masterlist Here

Part 1 Here

You knew as soon as you left the table Theon or Jon would tell Robb exactly what kind of dream you had had but you also could not take the smirks from Theon and Jon awkwardly looking away from you. Once you realised there was no escape from Robb finding out you decided distance was the thing you needed. You excused yourself and began to make yourself far too busy for any of the boys to start their ruthless teasing.

The worst of it was Robb didn’t even know it was about him. But you knew so now you had to act like no one knew encase he figured it out. So instead of risking it you did every task you could imagine over the next three days.

You showed Sansa some new embroidery stitches, helped Arya with her aim in archery, talked with Lady Catelyn about her upcoming nameday celebrations. At one point you even ended up in the kitchen peeling potatoes till Ned happened to see you and insisted it wasn’t necessary of his Lady ward.

After being ushered out of the kitchen you ended up walking to the courtyard, looking for Bran to entertain. This was around the time that Jon and Robb went horse riding so you assumed you would be safe. You soon realised you were wrong as Robb and Jon rode into the courtyard earlier than expected. As Robb began to dismount his horse you saw Bran and Rickon playing and quickly walked over. Robb obviously noticing your pace changed dismounted even faster to catch up, Jon on his heels.

“Lady- “Robb started but you crouched down to Bran and started talking over him.

“Wanna play hide and seek?” you tried to sound innocent, but you could feel Robb staring at the back of your head.

Bran and Rickon instantly perked up at the idea as the older Starks and you typically did not want to play their childish games. “Yeah!” Bran said as he ditched his toy soldiers on the ground.

Rickon was fast behind, “All of you?” the little shit inquired and unknowingly ruined your plans.

“Yeah, little man!” Robb said as he gave his youngest brother a fist bump to celebrate and gave you a knowing smirk. “Jon you in? “Jon must’ve read Robbs mind because he instantly agreed. “Should we do teams? If so, I call dibs on (Y/N),”

You stood up, feeling the colour drain from your face, but thank fully Rickon was not all bad as he quickly pointed out, “We can’t! There’s an odd number,”

“Rickson’s right. Every man for himself,” you agreed causing the youngest Stark to now fist bump you. “Who’s counting?”

“Jon,” Robb said before anyone could object.

Jon sighed but reluctantly went along with his brother’s plan. As Robb was whispering something to Jon you started to back away, giving yourself as much distance from Robb as you could for a head start. Bran quickly explained the rules of how they played hide and seek, you couldn’t hide in bedrooms or in the woods, as then told Jon to count to one hundred.

By the time Robb had turned around you were already at the opposite side of the courtyard and Jon then began to count. Jon had barely said the letter one when you sprinted for the stairs. You would never usually cheat when playing with children but this was a matter of life and eternal embarrassment so you ran as quickly as you could to your chambers, knowing how much of a stickler to the rules the starks were.

You were panting like a wet dog when you arrived at your chambers and flung the door closed behind you. As you took your cloak off to try and cool yourself down you heard footsteps in the corridor outside. You weren’t as clever as you thought.

As quickly and silently as you could you began to slide under your bed, hearing a knock when you were finally underneath. Would Robb really come into a lady’s chambers without permission?

Turns out he wasn’t as much of a stickler as you thought as you heard your door slowly open and saw his boots walk in. Robb gently closed the door behind him, not wanting people to think he had ill intentions or his mother to find out, and he began to walk into the room before suddenly stopping.

You cringed as you realised you weren’t wearing the cloak anymore that you must have dropped in your hurry. There was no point in trying to run now as Robbs boots walked over to the bed before he crouched down, his head peering under the bed and right at your face. A wolfish grin was placed on his face as he reached under and grabbed your arms to pull you out from under your own bed like a child. “Funny finding you here,”

You grumbled under your breath as you pulled yourself up to sit beside Robb on the floor next to your bed. “You cheated,”

“You cheated first.” He shot back but then the grin fell from his face, “You’re avoiding me,”

“Prove it,” you said, more stubborn than any other in the North but it was to no avail.

Robb rolled his eyes, “I just pulled you out from under your bed,” he said before asking, with hurt in his eyes, “Did I do something?”

Your heart clenched as his puppy eyes stared into yours, not realising before how he would feel by your sudden avoidance. You realised you had only made things worse in your attempts to avoid it, “No you didn’t,” you said before flinging your head back with a groan, “It was me okay? I was embarrassed so I wanted to hide until you forgot about it or something I don’t know, okay?”

Robb began to chuckle at your now flushed face, “Its okay,” he said as he took your hand, “It happens its alright. Theon was just wanting to wind you up about it but its whatever. Its not like we can control it,”

“Yeah, but it was just weird cause like,” you started to say but you realised there was no easy way to explain it, “I didn’t want you to know,”

Robb paused for a moment, and you could feel the clogs turning in his head, “Why just me though? Were you avoiding all of us or…?” he asked, trailing off as he looked at you.

You closed your eyes and sighed, “Just you,” you finally whispered, and you felt his hand slip away from yours.

Reluctantly you opened your eyes to see Robb had turned himself to face you straight on, a smirk playing on his gorgeous lips, “Who was your dream about?” he asked the dreaded question, and you felt your cheeks grow hot. His eyes widened as he saw your flush and how your eyes would look at anywhere but him. “Was it about me?” he asked with a new strange shine in his eyes. You glanced at him before nodding and closing your eyes, waiting to be laughed at. Robb chuckled but it wasn’t at you. It was deep and perfect, but it wasn’t mocking or amused. “And what was I doing in this dream?”

You opened your eyes as you felt him lean in closer, his face only a couple inches from yours, his breath fanning your face. “You don’t think im some creep?” you asked, ignoring his original question.

“I’d be a hypocrite if I did,” Robb started as his eyes roamed your face and down your body, his hand moving to rest on your thigh, “But you didn’t answer my question love,” he said as you felt a wetness beginning between your thighs that his hand was so close to yet so far away, “What was I doing to you in your dream?” he asked as his eyes landed back on yours.

His gaze was even stronger than that in your dream and you struggled to speak at first, “It was more me doing things to you,”

“What kind of things?” Robb leaned in closer, his lips grazing your cheeks, “I’d like to dream about them too,” he said as his hand moved further up your clothed thigh to land on your hip, “Maybe try some out as well if you’d like,” his hand gripped your hip tighter and you felt your stomach flutter.

“I was on my knees,” you started but Robb cut you off by gripping your hip and pulling you to straddle his thighs which caused your dress to ride up. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as his hands found the small of your back, “and you were on the bed,”

“What was I making you do dove?” he asked as he took your chin into his fingers, forcing you to look him in his eyes while you admitted your secret dreams to him.

You cleared your throat and tried to look away, but he held your head in place, “You were making me suck your cock,” you finally whispered, and you saw the wolfish glint return to his eyes.

“Is that so?” he said, and you could only nod. Robb grinned as he leant into whisper in your ear, his lips on the edge of it and his breath tingling your face, “Did you like it?”

“Yes, my king,” you said without even thinking about it and now you were face to face with Robb again, his nose brushing off of yours, “Sorry its just- “

“Is that what you call me? In your dreams?” he asked causing your face to flush and eyes to water before you nodded. Robb placed a kiss to your check, “I like that,” he said as he brought his hand to your face, his thumb rubbing against your check, “Don’t be so sad love. I’ve had my own dreams too,”

“You have?” you asked, and Robb nodded.

“So many nights I’ve had dreams of you,” he admitted as his lips fell to start littering kisses from your neck to your jaw as he spoke, “of how you would look underneath me. I would imagine how you would look as you came undone around me,” he said which caused you to shiver and you could feel his smirk as he kissed your jaw before pulling back to have his lips hover over yours, “I’ve dreamt of kissing these pretty lips of yours,” he said as his thumb moved to rub over your bottom lip like he had in your dreams before, “Would you like that?” he asked and you quickly nodded.

Robb wasted no time in closer the gap between you. His lips crashed onto yours and they felt better than you had ever imagined. They were soft but had become slightly rough from the cold northern air. They moved perfectly in sync with your own and the need for air did not seem to matter anymore. His hands crept down to land on your waist, pulling you closer, and on top of his clothed member which you could feel hard under his clothes. Your hands found his chest, feeling how toned he was through his tunic and wanted nothing more than to pull it off. Robb must’ve sensed this as he only broke the kiss to remove his tunic, leaving him in his undershirt, before he latched his lips to yours again.

This time he began to nip at your bottom lip for entry and you were no one to deny your king whose tongue slipped in as soon as you allowed. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his hips buck beneath you, his member rubbing against your clothed wet spot.

Eventually you had to break for air and the feeling of Robbs warm breath against your lips drove you crazy. “Would you like to know what I see in my dreams?” he asked, and you nodded, unable to speak from your desperation.

“I see you and me,” he started before pulling you to your feet from the floor, turning you around to pull the laces of your dress lose, “in my chambers with you in your pretty little shift,” he said as your dress fell to the floor. You shivered at the cold and the touch of his fingers on your back. Robb spun you to face him, your hands resting on his chest, “In bed,” he continued, this time pushing you to fall back on your bed, “kissing you,” he said as he began to crawl over you, leaving a trail of kisses from your thighs to your chest to your throat, “everywhere,” he finished as he kissed your lips again.

Your hands tangled into his hair as one of his moved to squeeze your breast causing you to gasp into the kiss allowing him entrance. You moaned as you felt his finger tracing around your nipple over your thin shift. “I always wondered what you’d sound like,” Robb broke the kiss to say as he continued his teasing, his fingers pinching it in just the right way to cause your whines. “Or how you would feel,” the loss of his hand left you are wishing from more, but your body shivered as you felt it brush up your thigh before settling where you wanted him most. He traced a finger up it is causing you to whine and him to chuckle, “Did you ever dream about this too?” he asked, and you nodded but this time he tutted, “Use your words,” he said as he began to place kisses along your jaw.

“Yes, my king,” you said, and he finally slid his fingers in, stretching you as he did. You moaned as you felt them move into you and more when he began to curl them inside of you.

Without thinking your eyes closed but this was not good enough for Robb, “Keeps your eyes on me or I’ll stop,” he warned and you quickly opened them to see him gazing at your face, “Good girl,” he said as he began to curl his fingers again, “I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours while I fuck you with my fingers,” he said, his thumb now moving to press onto your clit, a whiney moan leaving your lips. “You’re such a pretty little whore, aren’t you?” he said causing the knot in your stomach to grow.

“Thank you,” you whispered causing his smirk to grow, “Please don’t stop,” you begged.

“Do you want to know what else I want to know?” he asked, and you told him yes. “I always wanted to know how you tasted,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat at the idea, “Do you think you deserve that? To have your king in between your legs kissing you in unspeakable ways?”

“Please,” you begged, his fingers still curling inside of you, “I’ll be good please. I promise, I’ll be good for you,” you moaned, and Robb placed a firm kiss on your lips as he removed his fingers from you causing you to whine.

Robb trailed his kiss away from your mouth to kiss down your body finally arriving where he had told you about, “Your so impatient,” he chastised, his breath fanning over you causing you to shiver. Without warning Robb licked up your wet cunt and you let out a strangled moan as your body instinctively pulled away. Robb used his hands to press your hips down in the bed, “Let me take care of you,” he said as he licked again, another moan falling from your lips, “my queen,” he finished before his tongue began its assault on your core which he was now lapping up and moaning into. His vibrations sending shivers down your spine as the knot in your stomach grew huge at the knew sensation of his tongue. He moved his head to line his nose up to your clit, nudging against it with every lick causing you to almost explode at his touch. His tongue began to move in and out of you causing you to bring your one hand out of his hair and up to your mouth to try containing your moans. “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered against your core, “and you sound even better,” he said as he moved his fingers to your hole, diving in and out, curling with every thrust, so his tongue could move to focus on your sensitive nub.

Even your hand struggled to contain your moans when Robb began to suck on your clit. You felt an exploding pressure in your stomach which you struggled to contain but when Robb grazed his teeth against your clit you felt your whole-body tremor beneath him as you came undone from his mouth. You were almost gasping for breath, your eyes wet from the relief that flooded your body. You felt Robb pull away from your core as you stared at the ceiling panting like a dog.

His breathing was also heavy as he came up, his face now covered in your wetness causing you to blush, but he paid it no mind when he placed a strong kiss on your lips. “You are so perfect,” he murmured against your lips. “I don’t think I will ever get enough of you,”

“Good,” you said, your hand moving to hold his face in your hand, “Because I will never get enough of you,” you said as you felt an overwhelming tiredness wash over your body.

“You should rest love,”

“But you didn’t- “you tried to argue but Robb would not hear it.

Robb pressed a kiss to your forehead, “You can return the favour later sweetheart,”

You lay with Robb in a perfect silence, almost fully drifted off when you heard pounding on your door, “We know you’re in there!” Bran yelled through the door, and you felt all the colour drain from your face.

You looked at Robb who was also stark white, “You cheated!” Rickon yelled.

As they tried to open the door Robb sprang out of bed to hold it close. You could hear Jon in the background and quickly scrambled under your covers. “Tell them I fell and hurt myself,” You whisper shouted to Robb who quickly nodded and yelled for his brothers to wait, and he’d let them in. he quickly shoved his tunic over his head and opened the doors as innocently as he could.

Rickon and Bran stalked into the chambers with Jon reluctantly following behind, making sure he was not about to be scarred by the sight in front of him. Rickson’s face dropped in confusion, “Why are you in bed?”

“She fell- “

“-up the stairs- “

“- I had to help her here- “

“-we didn’t cheat,” you finished your story which thank every lucky star Rickon believed. Bran clearly had his doubts but was too young to understand what Jon knew had happened. However, at Robbs suggestion they get to play with his real sword Bran dropped the subject. Lady Catelyn may be upset when she finds out what Robb had let them do but you both knew it would be far worse if she found out what you had done moments before they had barged in.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @twilightrows

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Seven

Pairings; LADS OT4 X reader

Word Count; 2,876

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature context

Notes; you have a slight existential crisis, a kiss (but it doesn't get too intense unfortunately), another Xavier-centric chapter with a small cliffhanger, also a reminder that 💛 is Xavier! Also, I accidentally posted this so I guess y'all are getting this chapter early 🤷🏻‍♀️

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Masterlist

I would also like to mention, once more, that the reader isn't aware of anything relating to Sylus. Just his looks, the appearance of his evol, and all of that. Think of her as all of us during Sylus's trailer release! Even though she doesn't know anything, the story will go as it does in the original story. I'm definitely not creative enough to change any of that, but there will be major differences after we finish the final chapter (in-game, chapter eight)!

You have one more day of freedom before you enter the Nest as bait. How will you spend it?

You woke up a bit later than usual, wanting to spend as much time with Estelle in bed as possible before you had to leave her for an unspecified amount of time. You hope she remembers you. After you make yourself something to eat and give Estelle her food, you check up on your flowers. The bluish pink flowers sat in a vase you had made at a pottery class with Zayne. Your thumbprints in the shape of a heart and the vase was glazed in the colour arctic blue, which was a beautiful light blue. The vase was sitting next to the fox Xavier got you and the painting Rafayel made for you.

You decide to lounge around the apartment today, unwilling to go outside and do anything since you knew today would be your last day of freedom. You were honestly worried, after tomorrow you were in the dark on what comes next. Your gaze flitting across the notes you made of the past and near future, hoping to come up with a nice game plan for your next decisions. You could tell the other guys you know about your past lives, but if you don't know everything then what's the point? You knew Rafayel would throw a fit if you didn't remember everything. Zayne doesn't really remember or, at least, you're not sure. Most of Zayne's past life you're in the dark about since you never got his cards. For Rafayel, you know two specific instances of past lives but the bigger one where he was the god of the sea? You only know part of it. You never got those cards either. With Xavier, you know of both lives- one more so than the other. You know he's Lumiere, the man who saved the main character as a child and protected Linkon during the Chronorift Catastrophe..you also know he's quite jealous of himself. Any time Lumiere is mentioned, he gets jealous.

But Sylus? Nope, you know nothing. Besides his looks, that he's the leader of Onychinus, and what his evol looks like. That's all you know. And you think you remember a crow, but you could be mistaken because of meeting Mephi at the animal shelter.

You know you need the aether core at the auction, but you don't recall why. Maybe to help your heart? You don't dare ask because it would look weird if you were intent on finding something, but forgot why you needed it. And after that? You assume winning Sylus’ heart like you have with the others. So he can't be a real bad guy if he's a love interest. You've read theories that the Ever corporation, which is the biggest company in the world- branching from biotech to aerospace to evol energy and even international trade- might be evil or working with Onychinus, but that's the only lead you have. You'll just have to figure it out as you go along.

You put on the TV and laze around with Estelle for most of the day until you step outside to sit on your balcony to watch the sun set.

Your phone buzzes and you look down to check it, seeing a text from Xavier.

💛 :”whatre u doing outside this late?”

A smile tugs at your lips and you tell him that you're watching the sunset to which he doesn't respond. Instead his response comes in the form of a figure hopping down from the floor above you and grabbing onto the concrete wall of the balcony. “Watching it together would be better than watching alone.” He says, reaching out toward you and you grab his hand, tugging him fully onto your balcony.

“You scared the hell out of me, Xavier.” I say, looking up at the sky. “Give me a warning next time, please?” “I'll try my best.” He smiles, propping his arm up on your shoulder. “Aren't you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Ah…a little bit.” You look down at your feet with a small sigh and decide to sit down in a chair. “I'm nervous, but also anxious, but also I don't know what to expect. I have a plan and I know it'll work, but I'm unsure of where to go from there.”

“Well instead of worrying about it, how about you just go with the flow?” He crouches down next to you since you only had one chair, he rests his chin on your knee as he looks up at you. “Don't stress about what hasn't happened, just focus on right now and you can worry about the future when it comes.” You rest your hand in his hair and smile, tilting your head back to look up at the sky. “You know, you talk like an old man.” Your thumb brushes against his forehead, “but…I don't mind it.”

“Besides watching the sunset, I know of another way to calm down. Do you want to hear about it?” Xavier asks, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently brushes against your fully healed scar and your eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Have you tried it with other people and that's how you know it works?” You tease with a raise of your brow. “How do you know it'll work, huh?”

“Well… you won't know unless we try.” He stands back up, resting one hand on the armrest of your chair. His other still on your right cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “May I?” He asks and you go to nod, but remember before that he told you to speak. “Yes,” you say before adding softly under your breath, “please.”

Xavier's eyes close as he closes the distance between you, his lips gently brushing against yours before fully connecting. He doesn't try to deepen the kiss, leaving it as a soft, yet intimate moment between you both. After a few moments, he breaks from the kiss and leaves a few scattered kisses across your face. His final stop was at your scar, his lips brushing along the scar from the top of your eyebrow all the way to your cheekbone. Your body immediately jerks in surprise at the touch since you realized your scar was rather sensitive. “Better?” He whispers, going back to resting his forehead against yours. His ears as red as yours probably were.

“Thank you.” You say softly, cupping his cheek and you rub your thumb back and forth across his cheekbone. A loud meow coming from behind you both finally breaks the moment and allows Xavier to pull away from you. “It seems like Estelle was jealous.” He chuckles, picking up the large cat with ease. “It looks like she's worried about her mommy.”

“She'll be fine because she'll have her daddy looking after her while I'm gone.” You say nonchalantly, not noticing the blush that spread across Xavier's cheeks or the way he buried his red face into Estelle's fur. “You really have a way with words.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“We missed the sunset!” You realize, quickly standing up as you whine. “Damn it.”

“We might've missed the sunset but didn't we make a better memory in place of it?” Xavier muses, glancing over at you with a soft smile. “I guess we did.” You reach over to pet Estelle behind the ears and Xavier takes the chance to say, “Be safe tomorrow. Promise me.”

“I can't make any promises, Xav. You know that.” You sigh, hugging both him and Estelle. “But just know I'll do my best to come back in one piece. I can promise that. I'm not going anywhere any time soon.” You murmur into his chest and rest your forehead against it.

“That's…” Xavier lets out a heavy sigh and gives you a forced smile before he nods, “That’s enough for now.”

D-Day

Finally, it's Hunting day. Your last day of knowing what comes next. You spent most of the night tossing and turning, mulling over what would happen and worrying over getting hurt, but you felt a bit better now. Especially as you changed into your clothes for the day. In the game, the main character showed up at the Nest in her uniform and while that would be the best kind of bait, it seemed impractical. If you're trying to be bait, wouldn't being obvious bait deter people? If you're too on the nose, people might think it's a trap. So instead, you opted to put on a strappy, red ruffled shirt that was tucked into a white skirt. You added a belt and you set your red low heels by the door. You spray some perfume and spend a few minutes getting ready to look your best.

A stylish outfit is a good weapon for a woman. That and your actual weapon in its holster under your skirt. You shrug on an expensive black jacket, one of the only things you own that wasn't in game, to hide your obvious weapon. You weren't sure when the right time would be to leave so you decided to have your last meal. Well, it wouldn't be your last meal but it definitely felt like it. After you ate, you'd leave for the Nest to meet up with Rafayel. Your last message to him being ‘Meet me at the Nest and show me how to fish.’ to which he replied that ‘the biggest fish come out at night.’ So you assume 10-11pm would be an appropriate time to leave?

You still have time today so what were you going to do?

You took a few more notes on what to expect after and made sure the tiny tranquilizer was in your pocket. The antidote vial sitting on your kitchen island ready to take before you leave. You double, no triple, no quadruple checked that you have everything and spent a few hours anxiously pacing back and forth and petting Estelle. You were never good at waiting, especially when you were anticipating something.

You decide to leave at 10pm, giving you an hour to get to the Nest, which makes sense since you'd be walking. You down the vial, tossing it in the garbage as you head toward the door. You slip your shoes on and lock the door behind you after feeding Estelle for the night.

Honestly with all this walking, you should probably just bite the bullet and learn how to drive since you already have a license in this world. But driving is scary and you have bigger issues to deal with right now so that'll have to come later.

As you walk through Azure Square, you pin your ‘family’ crest to your jacket, trying to make sure that not all of Jeremiah's hard work went to waste and even though you have your hunter's watch on, it is covered by your jacket sleeves so you assume it'll be fine. A pretty bait is what you're planning to be tonight, no need to go too overboard with it. You enter the Nest and it just looks like your average nightclub. People were standing and drinking, some slightly dancing to some music or talking amongst themselves, not many people were at the bar though, besides the bartender.

As you look around, your vision is blocked by someone stepping in front of you. “Hey there,” the man’s eyes glance at your crest as he continues, “Actually-”

“Isn't it a bit weird to do business with newcomers?” Rafayel steps into frame, practically shoving the other man out of the way as he fixes his sleeves, not even sparing the man another glance. “Come.” He loops a finger with yours as he pulls you up to the bar. “So…do you have your bait ready?” He asks, leaning his chin onto his hand.

“Mmh, I'll play their game and allow myself to be caught. Act like a clueless little worm on a tackle.” You say, nonchalantly. Not mentioning the N109 Zone since you didn't want to catch others' attention just yet. “You'll still need to cast your line though…that should be easy enough.” Rafayel drums his fingers against the bar counter before he hands the bartender a coin. He picks up an embossed card, sliding the blank side over to you. “Go ahead. Write down what you're looking for.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head as you grab the black feathered pen that was sitting in a nearby cup. You write down ‘aether core’ and the ink disappears a few moments later. Rafayel scoops up the card to hand it to the bartender who nods and disappears into the back. “Who's he going to tell?” You ask, turning your body to face the well dressed artist. “Doesn't matter. If they're interested, you'll know.” He muses, moving his hand over to trace random shapes on the back of your hand.

“Rafayel?” He's still silent before he takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “Now, we wait for the fish to bite.” “How long?” You ask after he lets go of your hand. “Hmm..not long. The Nest lives up to its name, you know? An underground intelligence network that's well known to match supply and demand.” As Rafayel finishes his sentence, the bartender comes back with a shot glass. He places it in front of you before stepping away once more.

“And this?” You ask before assuming this means a fish has taken a bite so you reach out for it and Rafayel suddenly grabs your wrist. “Think about it first. The glass is black, that means you'll have to pay a high price and if it doesn't go smoothly, you'll be the payment instead.”

“Well, being the payment is better than sitting here and doing nothing.” You shrug, downing the shot in one go. “Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you.” Rafayel chuckles, placing his hand on top of your head to ruffle your hair. “I hope you find the answers you seek.” He stands up from the barstool and doesn't look back as he walks away, just puts his hand up as he waves.

“Alright, I guess let's look around until the hunting starts.” You murmur to yourself, rising to your feet as you walk around the bar. You notice a board off to the side, a wanted board. You see a head shot of Lumiere who looks obviously like Xavier except with a white mask and an outfit you've never seen before. A small chuckle leaving your lips before you notice how much he's wanted for. “100 million? Geez, what did he do?” You step a bit closer to look at the other wanted posters and you only catch a glimpse of purple hair on another poster before someone runs into you.

“It's starting, it's starting.” The drunken man excitedly mumbles to himself as he walks further into the crowd.

The lights suddenly shut off and a modified OTTO patrol bot rose up from a podium in the center of the room. The circular robot flies high until a voice booms from it, “There's a price to pay when a wish is granted! Will you be the hunter or the hunted tonight?” The robotic screen was a deep shade of red, the camera on it shaped like an eye. “Hunting day will now…commence.”

As your gaze lands on the eye, you feel your blood run cold. This…this reminded you of the red eye from your nightmares but you couldn't put your finger on how. You decide to play it safe and try to find a place to hide but honestly, where can you hide? You're in an unfamiliar, crowded place so you're not even sure where the bathrooms are and why would you hide if the plan is to be caught in the first place?

Your thoughts are cut short as the voice says one last thing. “Now.” It's red gaze lands on you, effectively spotlighting you to everyone in the crowd. “Shit.” You mutter to yourself as a few people in the crowd walk toward you.

“There she is…we've been looking for you.” One person says and another one chimes in, “This is the prey.”

You're a tad bit overwhelmed as people close in on you and as you try to dip out of the crowd, you feel your breath leave you as you're hit in the back and your knees hit the ground hard. “Hey-” you say, trying to turn toward the person and elbow them in the gut but they grab you by your hair and hold a vial in front of your face. “C-003, a neurotoxin. If you're smart, you won't put up a fight.”

You sigh, head hanging down and your hair covers your face to hide your smile. At least everything still went according to plan. Now what comes next is a complete mystery. Your smile leaves your lips as you feel the butt of a gun hit your head and you fall to the ground.

I'm keeping the extra spaces in this chapter to show a comparison, so just let me know which you prefer and I'll keep doing it for the up-coming chapters! Also, this won't be a cliffhanger for long since I'll also be posting chapter eight today. I decided to spoil y'all 🩷

I do want to add that I change up mc's dialogue compared to what she says in-game sometimes because I don't like how it's worded or I don't like specific actions she does (like shaking Mephisto, you'll see). I also make comments on her stupid actions- like her trying to hide in the original chapter or wear her hunter's uniform as if she wants to scream to the Nest, "I'm a hunter!! Please, take me!" Instead of being more low-key and under the radar.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

What Was I Made For? - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1251>

Another day: done. Another day that had felt like it had been wasted doing your ever so boring job while you watched pedestrians walk in and out, smiling as their carefree hours whizzed by. 

You served coffee after coffee, frappe after frappe, and each one took you an inch closer to insanity. As soon as the clock struck five, you threw your apron into your locker and traded it for your jacket. 

Just as you were about to slip out of the employees only back exit, you heard your boss collaring your name. You were just going to pretend you couldn't hear and leave anyway, but there was no ignoring her when she tapped you on the shoulder.

"Y/N, I'm going to need you to put in a few extra hours next week since we're pretty short on staff and we've been really busy lately," she smiled, and the urge to punch her in the face had never been stronger. The last thing you wanted was to put in more hours of your life doing the least rewarding job you had ever had. 

"Do I get paid any extra or anything?" you asked. You only did the job for the money, since you liked to have some independence from Charles. As expected, he had offered to support your life since he made more than enough, but you wanted to do something with your life. But this wasn't it.

"Sorry honey, the best I can do is more coffee coupons," she chirped, and you wondered how she was always so cheerful and happy. It was almost envious. Well, it would be if it wasn't so damn infuriating and irritating. 

"Just send me through the hours," you tutted, not wasting anymore time in that god forsaken coffee shop than you had to. Walking back home, you couldn't help but frown at all of the people around you, enjoying what they did for a living. 

They were all making names for themselves, leading fulfilling lives and living their dreams. And then there was you, serving coffees just finding a way to spend time. 

What were you doing with your life? Who were you supposed to be? Why did you have to live through groundhog day every day?

As per usual, you walked past the art gallery, boasting creativity and colour, and the jewellery stores with glittering pieces that you wished you had made. Just so someone would recognize something you had done. 

Finally, you arrived at the safe haven that was the apartment you shared with Charles. He wasn't back yet, since he had gone for dinner with some friends for the evening.

You got yourself comfortable, taking a shower and snuggling up on the couch. As you watched a movie, you couldn't help but feel saddened by the actor's success.

They were household names, doing what they loved for a living. And there you were. Sat on your couch counting the hours away.

You just wished you could have been like them - even if just a little bit. Hell, you just wanted to be someone. You just wanted be something.

These thoughts rushed through your head for a while, so much to the point where you failed to notice the movie had ended and you were staring at a blank screen with watery eyes.

You also failed to notice the front door opening and closing as a tear of disdain and jealousy rolled down your cheek. "Hey, amor. How are you?" Charles asked, but you couldn't snap out of your darkened haze.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" He asked again, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking you slightly.

"What am I doing with my life?" You asked, your eyes still glued to the black screen. You didn't hesitate to ask, there was no point. "What?" he asked, clearly not understanding the question.

"Who am I?" you asked, and Charles just looked at you, trying to figure out what you were asking. This was so out of the blue since you were normally a happy, cheerful kind of person.  "Exactly, I'm no one," you said, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees after he didn't respond.

"I just serve shitty coffee to shitty people and that is my life," you continued, the frustration building as you spoke. "Nobody knows who I am and nobody cares," you rambled, shrugging his hand away.

"Baby, you know that's not true," he said, struggling to come up with something to help you snap out of the stupor. He wondered how long you had felt like this for it to all come out so suddenly and strongly. "There's no point in trying that, Charles. I know it is,"

"I used to be untouchable," you sighed, thinking back to when you met Charles and what had lead up to it. You had worked your ass off like you had through your whole life. You tried hard in school and did everything you could to contribute to your community and others around you. 

"I used to be amazing, and now look at me," you babbled. You were living your dream, but you left your job to move to Monaco with Charles. "I threw it all away," you whispered, not wanting Charles to think it was his fault in the slightest. 

"But you are amazing," he tried to console, his heart breaking to hear you talk about yourself like this. "Not anymore," you said, thinking about what you could have been. Long distance could have worked and maybe you'd be happy right now.

"You can be whatever you want to be, you know that right?" he asked, not realising what he had set himself up for. "I'm not talented enough to be a singer, I'm not pretty enough to be a model, I'm not charismatic enough to be a talk show host, I'm not driven enough to have my dream be my job like you,"

"Everyone already has their lives planned out and are making leaps and bounds towards their end goal, and then there's me. Wasting my time and wallowing in my own self pity," you sighed, and Charles was wracking his brains for something that might help.

"You're still young, baby, you have loads of time to figure it out. And once you do, you have more than enough to get yourself there because you can do anything you put your mind to," he tried to reassure, mentally cursing at himself for how cheesy that sounded.

He hated that you had this opinion of yourself. To him, it didn't matter if you were the most talented, the prettiest, the most charismatic. It just mattered that you were you and he loved you for that. 

"But everyone else has it figured out. Everyone is already someone. You're Charles Leclerc, the face of Ferrari, the man from Monaco, hero to children across the globe. You have a purpose.  And what about me? Well that's exactly it, I'm just me," 

"There's no such thing as 'just me'. You are hard-working beyond belief, you take pride in your job, you care about other people, you're the love of my life. Surely that's enough?" he desperately tried to claw you back out of the slump, but his sweet words couldn't shield the darkness this time.

"Maybe it isn't, not anymore," you mumbled, standing from the couch and shutting yourself in the bedroom, leaving Charles sat on the couch by himself, gobsmacked. He didn't know how to help you realise how brilliant you really were, but you didn't really know either.  

A/N - I went to see Barbie the other night, and this song just destroyed me. I guess it just made me think about things, y'know? If anyone has any requests, feel free to submit them, I adore writing them!

|masterlist|

[askinkiskarma]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀: ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕆𝕦𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: you decide to make Neteyam pay for all the hurt he's caused you, but what will happen when your own plan comes back to bite you in the ass?

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, strong language, mentions of violence, blood, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 5k words

a/n: i'm so flabbergasted by the incredible response to my first enemies-to-lovers fic, you don't even know! thank you so much, it means so much to see you besties enjoying it and being excited about it. I will reiterate once more than this is a trope suuper outside of my comfort zone, so i hope you enjoy me wracking my brain to figure out the plot as i go along hahahah. enjoy, and as always, thank you for every like, reblog, reply, it means the world x (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

na'vi compendium: syä - bitter, yawne - beloved, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, 'itan - son, 'ite - daughter, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tsamsiyu - warrior, muntxate - mate, 'eylan - friend

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

Tryna wash away all the blood I've spilt, this lust is a burden that we both share

Two sinners can't atone from a lone prayer, souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time, you and I drink the poison from the same vine

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time, hidin' all of our sins from the daylight

Just like most Na’vi, you’ve always felt comfortable at night. It always felt to you like the best time to be alive, is when the plants came to life alongside you, in iridescent hues and kaleidoscopes of vibrant colours. You’ve always liked how the village quieted, much like your mind, and how you were able to almost disappear in the dead of the forest, your body perfectly camouflaged in the trees and shrubbery surrounding you, glowing lights reflecting on your lustrous skin. It was heaven on Pandora, and it was yours to take, yours to enjoy, yours to experience. 

It didn’t feel like that right now, as you were stalking towards the village with a hand around your neck, tears falling down your face, a forlorn disposition plaguing your mind, fear protruding uninvited through the stalks of your thoughts. You kept glancing behind you, trying to see if Neteyam was following you, and felt mildly soothed when the village came abruptly into focus. You let out a breath of relief that you felt has been lodged in your throat for too long and started running towards your tent, exalted when you reached it and pushed the flap closed, almost considering glueing it shut with the sap from the tree Na’vi use in building furnishings for the village and their homes. You couldn’t stop the scream that escaped you as a voice you didn’t expect to hear in a home you thought was deserted spoke up, filling the much needed silence. 

“Is everything alright, Tanhí? Why are you so jumpy?” O'ì'en’s calming tone did very little to soothe you, but you knew you needed to settle your mind, so as to not raise suspicion. Any hint of what transpired between you and Neteyam would lead to complications you didn’t want to have to deal with, not when you had it all under control. There was no need to bring anyone into a war that only concerned two people, that would lead to destruction and ache you didn’t want anybody you cared about to have to experience. You had it all under control.

The reason for your unsightly fight with Neteyam brought back the conversation between yourself and Mo’at, that you tried your best to push away from your mind, that now came back in full swing as you finally took him in, as you knew you would have to tell him, and deal with the consequences of Eywa's vision and your decision to not talk the Tsa'hik out of it as a way to get revenge on the man who hurt you deeper and deeper with each day that passed. You and O'ì'en never made your relationship official, and never really even talked about it seriously, but there was no need - it was obvious enough. It was quite clear to most people that although undefined right now, your future was shaping up before your eyes, and its shape looked a lot like mating before Eywa, it looked a lot like kids and laughter and happiness and all the good things you thought you wanted, that you wanted to want every day of your life. You didn’t know whether you were convinced, deep down, but either way, you were always willing to try. Now, it seemed you wouldn't even get the chance.

“Everything’s fine, yawne. Just didn’t expect to see you here.” You thanked Eywa silently for the darkness in your home that hid your new-found bruises and closed the distance between you two, smiling as genuinely as you could bring yourself to, and reaching out to stroke his cheeks, the smile didn’t feel as forced when he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and almost purring in comfortable contentment. 

“I just came to check on you after the mission. You were… impressive. As you always are. It means so much, watching you out there, seeing what you’re capable of, how incredible you are, knowing the future moth-“ his eyes widened as his words registered in his mind and he stopped, and your expression couldn’t have been far removed from his in this moment, that felt all of a sudden thick with anticipation and nerves, with tension and fear. You didn’t know which emotions came from you. 

“Ma O'ì'en…I…” 

Both your heads snapped in the direction of the entrance, that was pushed open aggressively by a tall, muscular figure that you would recognise in every dream and every nightmare, in every waking moment, that you wished you didn’t. Neteyam stilled in his tracks as he noticed the scene in front of him, intimate and personal and clearly not for his eyes to see, and you felt a growl blossom in your throat that you had to swallow, if not for anything, for your still unflinching desire to keep this whole ordeal a secret for as long as you could. 

“I’m interrupting.” 

“Yes, yo-“

“No, Neteyam, future Olo’eyktan. Is there anything wrong?” 

“I need to talk to her. About the… mission.”

“I shall leave you to it, then. Please give your family my regards.”

“Thank you, O'ì'en. I appreciate it.” 

“No, yawne, you don’t have to leave. I can talk to Neteyam tomorrow. It’s late, anyhow.”

“Tanhi, we’ll… resume our conversation tomorrow, alright?” He gets close to you and his lips find your forehead for just a second, before he takes his leave, and you sigh, dread filling you at the thought of being in such proximity with the man that took so much space in your mind, the man that hurt you beyond words, that you would never be able to forgive. 

“How touching.”  his voice is filled with contempt and malice, and it hurts, still to this day, this tone you knew so familiarly, that you never managed to get used to, like a shadow following you in the night you would never be able to escape.

“Get the fuck out of my tent, Neteyam.” 

“He seems to have taken the news of our impending doom of a mateship very well. I’m impressed.” 

“Leave, Neteyam.” 

“You would think he would leave out of here kicking and screaming, that he would punch me and challenge me to First Blood for the chance to keep you… maybe you’re not as big a catch as I thought.” 

His steps were quiet, but determined, as he traversed the length of the tent and got close to you, until he took up your entire field of view and you hissed aggressively, your tail twirling so much it was almost hurting, as did your ears, pushed back until they were flat, and you removed your knife, resting in a sheath on your chest and held it a couple of millimetres from his neck. 

“I said… leave.” 

“Oh.. yawne, I doubt you’re going to kill me, but you’re more than welcome to try.” 

He had no time to say anything else as the knife made contact with his smooth skin, and in one fell swoop, a thin stripe of blood emerged from his chest, and started dripping down his body. You looked at it, at the clean, bright red liquid spilling, then raised your gaze to his face, that wasn’t shocked or scared, or even angry, but alive with a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes and a lazy smirk on his face. He shrugged.

“Guess I deserved that.” 

“So… why wasn’t your little boyfriend upset about our arrangement? Cause the way I see it, this means either you just conveniently left it out of the conversation, or it’s because you are actually planning on talking yourself out of it to my parents.”

Your heart was booming in your chest as his eyes bore into yours and the intensity in them scared you, but not because of any elicited fear, but of how your body reacted to it and how you didn’t know what those feelings plaguing you were, or how to make them stop. 

“Leave.”

“Now why would you not tell him about it? Are you scared? Scared he’ll find out you’ll finally get to be with a real man for once?” 

You chuckled. 

“Is that supposed to be you? That is funny, Neteyam, congratulations! I will let Lo’ak know that you managed to actually make a good joke for once in your life. He’ll be floored.” His expression darkened momentarily, but he regained his composure as quickly as he lost it. 

“If that’s not it, then, that means you will talk to my parents. I knew you couldn’t be dumb enough to accept this stupid little forced deal.” You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid little smirk off his face, and fortunately for you, you knew just the way to do it.

 

“Well, why, Neteyam, as much as the thought of being mated to you horrifies me beyond my wildest nightmares, it’s nothing compared to the joy I get thinking of how miserable you’re going to be if I don’t talk to your parents and have to watch the choice slip past your grasp, not that it was there to begin with, or the joy of - ah, there it is - the joy fading from your eyes as you realise you will have to tell your stupid little girlfriend that you and her, will never, ever happen, and she will never be Tsa’hik, and watch as you realise that everything I foretold is, in fact, true.”

It was your turn to smirk, widely and cruelly, as his smile faded a little more with every word you spoke, until it was completely removed and replaced with a snarl, deep scowl and menacing canines on full display for you, but you were no longer scared. No, pure adrenaline was rushing through your veins, heightened by the desire to hurt him, to see him crumble in front of you, to see him suffer a sliver of all the hurt he’s caused you over the years. 

“Listen me very carefully, Neteyam. For one reason or another, you have made it your life purpose to make mine miserable, and only mine. I don’t want this to happen, I really don’t. I would rather be with any other man on this planet before I even considered looking in your direction, but I will make you pay for all the hurt you’ve caused me. And I have no problem burning in the pits of what Jake calls Hell, if I get to watch you burn with me.” You smiled a sweet smile, running your finger over the cut that was still leaking blood, trailing it down his abdomen, over his abs, and you ignored once more how the feel of his muscular body made shivers emanate from your fingertip, propagating throughout your whole being. You also ignored how his body shuddered under your touch. “So you and me, we’re stuck together, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And I will enjoy every moment of my life in which I get to see your life fall apart before you and know that I made it happen. So this little charming act you’re pulling, it’s all in vain. It’s all in vain. Now get out.” 

You didn’t wait for him to answer you, but turned around and started preparing for bed. You removed the silk top covering your chest, and heard a sharp inhale as his eyes took in the scene, and your breath ceased, wondering if he was going to leave, like you told him to, wondering if you wanted him to. Eventually, the cold sting of the wind blowing hit your back, as he opened the flap to your tent and exited it, and all at once, it all hit you and you felt more alone, more forlorn than you ever have, and less sure than ever about your crazy, all-consuming schemes. 

You woke up with doubt filling your mind and the headache to match, and you wondered if you did in fact have to leave the comfort and safety of your tent for the life that you knew would be waiting to tear you slowly at the seams as soon as you left it. Dreams plagued your subconscious last night, floating in the ether, waiting to be grabbed and inspected by an uncertain mind, and in your state, they were, and turned over onto each one of their pretty facets, bringing back memories you struggled to forget, that hurt you in their innocence and beauty, in their absence, in their contrast to your life right now and the relationship you still mourned to this day on odd occasions, on harder days, like yesterday, and like today.

In those dreams, Neteyam’s eyes gleamed with excitement and love, instead of annoyance and hatred. In those dreams, his hands were warm as his fingers intertwined with yours on the practice grounds, instead of bruising and calloused as they snuffed the breath out of your throat. In dreams, his smile brightened your whole world and made the pain of training and the struggle of excellence not only bearable, but barely-felt. You couldn’t even remember the last time Neteyam smiled your way, a true smile, a gummy smile, a playful smile he still flashed most people, he still flashed his family, and friends, and clan, all of which you used to be, none of which you still are to him.

You wondered sometimes, very rarely, if he ever thinks about those times, too. If in his undivided quest to hurt you and one-up you, in his desire to see you fail and the joy he seems to derive from it, you wondered, did he ever think about those times, too? Does he ever remember you, innocent and young, full of spark and happiness, looking up at him like he was a planet and you were just his moon, trapped in his gravitational pull, circling his orbit, offering him solace and safety from the rest of the universe, from all the meteors that always tried to take too much out of him, too quickly. He used to love you, and want to protect you, he was there when your parents died, he was there to help you mourn and heal. Does he remember what you used to mean to him?

As you made your way to the Sullys' tent, you were greeted by shouting and a seemingly unending back-and-forth, but the voices involved in it weren't the ones you expected - not when they weren't Lo'ak and Kiri's, who you found bickering almost on the daily, who you were used to having to mediate peace treaties for, but instead, Neteyam and Jake's, both angry and raising above the peaceful chatter of the village that was just coming to life in light of a new day.

"- and this is just the way it is, Neteyam. This isn't like you! You, more than all the rest of your siblings combined, have always been able to see the bigger picture, to understand that sacrifices sometimes are necessary for the greater good. You have always been the one who was able to have perspective. What the hell happened, son?"

"What happened is you're trying to get me to mate with someone who I hate, who I will never be able to accept. I had a chosen mate! I had a life, and a plan, and now it's all over. Now you're telling me I have to give her every part of me, the most intimate parts of me, my children, my future. Her!"

You cringed at the way he said your name - like a blasphemy, like a curse. Spitting it like it was blood and bile mixing together on his tongue, coating his mouth, like the vile word hurt sitting in his throat. and he desperately needed to get it out before it could do any more damage.

"This isn't my decision, son. And it's not yours, either. It's Eywa's. You know she's never wrong, you know there's a reason for this. She seems to see it, too, why can't you at least try?"

There was silence in the tent and you felt guilty for prying, your body crouched next to the tent and your ear against its woven fabric, but not guilty enough to stop. Jake sighed loudly. You heard Neytiri's calmer, more even tone take over.

"Ma 'itan... you used to love this girl. She used to be your best friend, you used to do everything together. I know things have changed between you, but deep down, you're both the same two people you used to be. You both can find each other again, you just have to try. Why won't you try?"

Neteyam huffed and the sudden commotion made you jolt back, hiding in the corner as he pushed passed the closed flap, muttering mostly to himself as he left the tent, and his family, behind.

"You know damn well why."

You let out a breath you've been holding for the entirety of the conversation, as you came out of hiding and entered the tent, trying your best not to look like you overheard the entirety of that conversation that although about you, clearly was not intended for your ears to hear. Even if you hadn't heard the whole thing, it would still be obvious you were on their minds and on their lips as their eyes scrambled in shame and embarrassment, the room drowned in awkwardness and heaviness none of you could quite shake, none of you could quite swim in gracefully. Neytiri spoke first, her motherly instincts kicking in as she noticed your pained expression, that as hard as you tried, you couldn't hide from the people you loved so much, from the people that knew you so well.

"Ma 'ite, come, sit. We saved you food." she took you gently by the shoulders and pushed you to the middle of the room, and then down until you sat next to Lo'ak, who gave you a pitying look and a half-smile, an underwhelming attempt at telling you he's heard the news, and he feels sorry for you. Lo'ak more than most people knew how it felt to be stuck to Neteyam, how it felt to know that, no matter what happened or where life took him, he'd always live in his big brother's shadow, unable to escape his majestic, adept, irritating grasp. It seems you were now in a similar boat, bound to be known as no more than Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan's mate, and eventually, the Tsa'hik of the Omaticaya. It was a good title, a worthy title, a mighty title - just not one for you, and Lo'ak knew this all too well.

"I didn't get to see you after the mission, kid. I wanted to tell you you did a phenomenal job. Neytiri and I are very proud of you, you are genuinely better and better every day."

You felt annoyance build in you at his comments, but pushed it down. They were being nice, and it wasn't their fault. None of this was their fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. It was Eywa's will. And Eywa knew best. And still, still, you couldn't help feel it, the frustration that gnawed at you at this situation, at the way none of it would matter soon in their eyes, how it would all be forsaken and forgotten, your skill, your prowess, everything you worked for for 19 years.

So, say something. Tell them you don't want to do it. That you're meant to be more, was born to be more than just his mate. Say something.

Nothing came out as you chewed your food apathetically, trying to focus instead of little Tuk who came to sit next to you, and you pulled her closer, sharing your food silently. She smiled up at you, and you couldn't help reach down and peck her on her forehead. It's been a while since you went out, just you girls, and you felt guilty for abandoning Kiri and Tuk for Lo'ak's training sessions and your own, and made a mental note to organise a foraging trip soon.

"Kid, you are one of the best warriors I have ever seen in my 19 years of being Olo'eyktan. In fact, you are one of the best I've ever seen, even back on Earth. You should be very proud of yourself and what you've achieved. I know there's so much still there for the taking, whenever you're ready."

"There's nothing left for me to take, Jake! Not anymore. Don't you see that? You all stand here, talking about how great I am, what a great warrior I am, but how the fuck does it matter anymore, huh? When I'll have to give it all up to become Tsakarem, to exist here, in the village, for the rest of my life instead of out there, where I actually belong, to exist to interpret Eywa's will, which I will never be able to do, because I will never be able to understand why she would ever think I could ever be this, all of this for the people, how she could think it's fair I have to give up all of me to belong to someone else who hates me, who'll get to shine in my stead, and fight in my stead, and fulfil the destiny I was bound by, that belonged to me just as much as him? I trained my whole life, side by side with Neteyam, to be just as good as him, to be just as good a tsamsiyu as he is, and now it's all in vain. So please, spare me the compliments, since they are just as wasted on me as my talent on the battlefield is."

You were no longer hungry, it seemed, and with one last kiss to Tuk, you got out of the tent, hearing a faint "Well, that could have gone better, with both of them." coming from Jake, accompanied by a deep sigh that mirrored yours. You heard footsteps follow you, but couldn't find it in you to stop, to care, not when more and more, it seemed like the ground was turning into quicksand beneath your feet, pulling you under with each moment you considered all you were giving up to get revenge on a man who you meant nothing to, who probably didn't care regardless, who was going to hurt you in this forced relationship more than you could ever hurt him. Maybe it wasn't worth it. Maybe your peace of mind, and your ability to reach your full potential was more important than the desperate, idiotic need to get Neteyam to suffer for the 7 years of indiscretions that clawed at your heart every day of your life.

"Syä, come on, don't make me chase after you."

You ignored Lo'ak, and continued walking until you hit the tree you both liked to go to think and vent, to talk and complain about anything and everything - his subjects always revolved around his father and his sisters, yours revolved around your lack of parents and the pressure that you felt to be great, the responsibility you shouldered, and you both shared one subject in particular, that occupied most of your time spent here. He climbed after you and you both settled on the branch you usually laid on.

"I'm sorry, syä."

"What about?"

"Everything. This whole thing. You don't deserve this."

You scoffed.

"I deserve what I got. That's why I got it. The Great Mother doesn't choose sides, and she's never cruel or unjust. So I must deserve this."

There was silence weighing heavily on the air around you and in both your minds. Lo'ak didn't have the most developed emotional maturity, so you knew better than to expect more. You appreciated the little he did say, because it did matter - it always will. You and Neteyam might be as far apart as two galaxies on opposing sides of the universe, but you and Lo'ak were adjacent stars in the night sky, there to shine together. You might not have a family, not truly, but he would always be your baby brother, and you would always be his big, bitter, best sister.

"I have to tell you, though... I feel bad for you and all, but it's so good to know I won't have to call that little scared, mindless yarik of a girl sister. She truly is the most dull, vapid, odious person I've ever met, and even with Neteyam's bad track record in girls, this one still shocks me to this day. Imagine her being Tsa'hik, ew."

You laughed a little. She really was bad. Not what you would have ever imagined Neteyam's type to be like, but more and more it seemed Neteyam's type was anyone who had absolutely no resemblance... to you. Like consciously or subconsciously, he just needed to make sure the person he was kissing, or touching, or fucking, had nothing of you that could hinder the experience for him. The thought hurt and tilted to balance back in the favour of your original malevolent, callous, rotten plan.

"Have you told O'ì'en yet? Can't imagine he'll be very pleased. That guy's whipped for you, for real. I've never seen someone literally have those heart eyes that you see in those old cartoons my dad used to show us when we were kids."

You sighed another bottomless sigh as you thought about yet another person who had to suffer as a result of this scheme. Your boyfriend for all intents and purposes, the man you once thought you might spend the rest of your life with. A man who was good and pure, who treated you well, who put you first. You realised with a small chuckle that, much like Neteyam, you, too, subconsciously found the opposite of him and held on for dear life, only to now have to let him go.

"Not yet."

"You should, syä. He deserves to know."

"Yeah. He does."

Lo'ak's words rang in your ears as you were walking through the village in search for the one person you needed to see, and you knew where he would be, where he always was when he had spare time, dutiful as always, responsible as he would always be. You smiled a half-smile as you saw him with a gun in hand, peering through the visor, full focus as he was aiming for one of the targets nailed to a tree 500 metres away.

"You're aiming too low." his eyes snapped to you, and the smile he gave you, so genuine and wide and comforting hurt you, it all hurt your heart that was struggling to maintain itself whole in the face of everything that it had to endure in time, and more so recently.

You joined him, motioning for him to resume what he was doing, and you placed a hand on the underside of the sniper he was holding, inching it upwards.

"You have to adjust for the distance and the gravity pulling the bullet down as it flies towards the target. Like with an arrow."

"An arrow I get. This, I don't think I ever will."

"You will, O'ì'en. I know you will." I just won't be the one to teach you anymore.

"I was hoping you'd come." He dropped the weapon on the ground, finding better luck in counting the stars on your face instead, and with a caress of your lips, you shuddered under his touch, leaning into it, exhaling softly as his own lips found yours in a soft, intimate exchange. "I missed you, and I wanted to tell you something, I needed to tell you what's been on my mind from the moment you first appeared in front of me during my first lesson."

Your heart was pounding in your chest and in your temples, the words that you knew were coming scaring you, their weight, their implication dizzying you, turning you into a breathy, untethered mess as you spoke words with barely enough strength to be heard.

"O'ì'en, I -..."

"Please, let me get this out. I love you, tìyawn. I love you, and everything about you. I love your beauty, and your strength. I love how incredible you are, and how skilled. I love how despite your tough exterior, you have a gentle heart. And you are kind, and good, and I just know you'd be the best mother one day. I just hope it's to our kids. I want you to be mine, to mate before Eywa, to finally have the lo-"

His words and the erratic beating of your heart in your ears, the tears glossing over your eyes, dulled your senses to the man who was approaching you, and you suppressed a hiss at the interruption, at the one who instigated it, at the one who always seemed to conveniently find a way to do so. Neteyam walked until he was so close to you his hips were brushing against your waist, that, much to your unadulterated shock and disbelief, he circles with his arm, holding on to you tightly as he spoke.

"I have been looking everywhere for you, ma muntxate. Father called an emergency meeting and he needs you there immediately. He asked me to go find my love, so typical of him, don't you think?" His smile was sweet and innocent, but you knew better, knew that he just ruined the last pure thing in your life, the one thing you tried to hard to protect, the one thing you were just reconsidering this whole ordeal for, once more. O'ì'en...

"What did you say?"

"Oh, ma ‘eylan, haven't you heard? Her and I are to be mated soon. Isn't that just great?"

The sound of both your and O'ì'en's hearts shattering all around you and the swift melody of Neteyam winning yet another battle is the last thing you heard before the man you cared for turned around and left, taking the future and the hopes he held safely within his soul, leaving you with more guilt and shame than you would ever know what to do with.

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif @randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495 @aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak

[gay-dorito-dust]

Taglist: @souyasbabyy @kittekat420 @mellozhi @bro-let-me-sleep

This was long overdue…also do I have any idea where this series is going? Honestly I’m just wining it, so if it seems like there’s no consistency…that’s probably bc of me wining it.

Warning: ooc hobie? Shit writing?

Butterflies can’t see the colour of their wings series:

Part 1

Part 2

part 3 (you are here)

When Hobie told you that he’d be there if you were going through something; he meant it.

When Hobie told you that you could come to him for anything that might be plaguing your mind with doubt; he meant it.

He meant every promise he’s ever made.

Every. Last. One.

However Hobie knew that to push you into telling him everything wasn’t the right way to go about solving things, and instead he should wait until you were ready to talk about the issue on your own terms. You’re amazing Hobie and I’m not dismissing your help or anything but I’m sure I can figure this out on my own, if I can’t then I’ll come to you. Were the words you spoke to him. You always wanted to figure things out yourself first before resorting to relying on others for help. While that was admirable, Hobie secretly wanted to be the one you relied on most; after overhearing what you said to Miles about the consequences of wanting what you can’t have because you felt as though you didn’t fit with him.

Which -for clarification- Hobie found to be utter and total bullshit because to him, you couldn’t have fitted better with him. He could give less of a shit about how different you were, whether it was based on lifestyles, aesthetics or differences in personalities, because at the end of the day Hobie only wished to help you realise how beautiful your butterfly wings were; and they are the most beautiful he’s ever seen that to try and describe them would be a fruitless endeavour for you made him feel all kinds of things and those things you made him feel were new and exciting.

How he wishes he could find the way to rid you forever of your self doubt and insecurities that run so deep within yourself that it was nearly impossible to find where it was that the seed of doubt was placed within your heart and soul. Hobie knew he can only say so much before it begins to sound like he was rehashing those same words in a multitude of different ways until they held no emotion nor meaning.

Another thing he often pondered to himself in his spare time was the kiss you left engraved upon his cheek that day as he often ran his calloused fingertips across it gingerly, still feeling the phantom of your lips there. He first wondered if that kiss was merely a gesture of thanks for his offer to help; nothing to be looked deeply upon for it untimely meant nothing outside your appreciation for the strong platonic bond you both built since meeting one another; Whereas he sometimes wished it was you slowly accepting his willingness to become more integrated with your life then he already is but to a more deeper and intimate level.

A level where in his fantasy you both could sit in a together in total silence as you both did your own thing, easily finding comfort within one another’s presence and knowing that you’d never be too far away from actively seeking for one another when wanting to show something.

A level where you would wear his vest outside of the excuse that you looked cold but more so because it would inherit your scent within the fabric, so that whenever he was away he would be reminded of the piece of you that he had with him, telling him that you were waiting for him back home.

A level where he could look into your eyes and see his entire life within them.

A level where he would’ve finally found a way in making you see you from his point of view; for you were a butterfly who would one day realise the colour of your wings and he was the human that would help you see their beauty and worth.

[lcvesjj]

David 'Deacon' Kay with wife reader. Their kids want to give their parents a surprise after the hard days the couple had. You decide how it goes. Fluff and sweet . Thanks!! :))

Title : Bad days, kids & surprises 

Summary : After a few too many bad days at SWAT HQ, yours and Deacon’s kids decided to throw you both a surprise. But it didn’t work out like expected, since it led to a mini disaster. 

Warnings : none I think? Just pure fluff  & comfort, might be slightly OOC :)

A/n : ahh I love this idea sm! Anon you are amazing for this!!!! I genuinely enjoyed writing this. If anyone has any ideas/requests then my ask box is open :) BTW Annie doesn’t exist in this fic, so Deacon and Y/n have kids of their own, if that makes sense. Sorry for how short this is but I genuinely don’t have the energy to write anything longer atm 😕🥲

Word count : 638

masterlist

The last few days at SWAT HQ were chaotic to say the least. With many suspects to catch and missions to complete, you and Deacon barely got to spend time with each other and with your kids.

Noticing how busy you both were, your kids decided to throw you a tiny celebration, since they recently overheard that Hicks was going to give everyone on 20 Squad a few days off to relax and spend time with their families.

It was around 7pm when the both of you finally got home. The kids were already supposed to be sound asleep, but to both of yours and Deacon’s surprise the lights in the house were still on. Deacon wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the front door. “Let’s see what the little rascals are up to now.” He smiled while trying to find his keys. 

But before he could even open the door one of your kids - Lila. Appeared with a massive grin on her face. “C'mon we made you both something!” She exclaimed while grabbing Deacon’s and yours hands and tugging you both towards the kitchen.

Deacon shared a worried look with you. That sparkle in Lila’s eyes meant that they were probably up to no good while they were alone. The kitchen was dark until Matthew and Samuel jumped up from behind the kitchen island yelling. “SURPRISE!” While gesturing to a small cake on the table. 

The cake looked delicious and it had pink icing on it with white letters saying “WE LOVE YOU MOM & DAD!” Lila then said that she was the one who picked out the frosting colour while the boys wrote the lettering on the top. Seeing the cake and the excited looks on your kids faces, you could feel your heart melt at their sweet gesture.

Looking around the kitchen you finally saw the mess… They hadn’t had the time to clean up so the kitchen looked like a tornado went through it, with dishes and baking pans and pink frosting on the counter tops & walls. How was that possible? You didn’t truły know, but you figured it would be best if you didn’t know how. 

“Thank you, you're all so amazing and sweet.” Deacon smiled while crouching down to Lila's height and hugging her tightly, while holding out his other arm so the boys could join the hug. Samuel tugged on your T-shirt so that you’d also join the hug. You kissed all of your kids foreheads with a grateful smile. You and Deacon shared a small look over their heads that said “What did we do to deserve these amazing kids?”

Lila soon pulled away and so did Matthew. “C’mon let’s try the cake! It took us so many tries to get it right.” He said excitedly, Lila and Samuel agreed and Lila even jumped up and down excitedly. Standing up straight Deacon said “Kids, go wash your hands first and then we can have some cake!” While looking over at you with a grin. 

You truly didn’t deserve such sweet kids, they knew that work was hard recently so they decided to make you both a cake. Eying the state the kitchen was currently in you shook your head fondly with a small smile. You’d deal with the mess later but for now, you just decided to enjoy some time with your husband & kids after the recent week. 

Deacon reached over and grabbed your waist pulling you into a hug before kissing you on the lips while muttering “What did we do to deserve such sweet and amazing kids?” Pulling away you whispered “I don’t know honestly,  but we are so lucky to have three amazing angels. And I’m so lucky to have such an amazing and supportive husband.” You smiled at him, while Deacon kissed you again.

[ma1dmer]

Bloodborne - Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower NSFW

i am blushing just thinking of her

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): not the best at it, but she keeps close to you like a guard dog, she'll let you hold her hand as she sits next to you on the bed, she'll urge you to fall asleep softly, but that's as far as she is capable without you asking for something specifically

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): your skin, she trails her hands up and down your body as she slowly strips you, firstly with gloved hesitant fingers, and then quickly removes them before grabbing you fully, she enjoys the colour of it, the feel of it, the smell of it, the way it bruises so easily under her hold, she also loves marking you up

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): she loves making a mess of you, uses her fingers and then has you lick them clean obediently, gently dragging them across your tongue

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): your scent is like a drug to her, she'll hold onto your underwear to smell, such a lowly and depraved thing for a woman as imposing as herself, but she cannot help the feral and hungry urge that grabs ahold of her whenever she has anything that has your scent on it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): she has some experience, not a lot, with the hunt and everything going on, it was the furthest thing in her mind, but she is a quick study, observant to every detail, every shudder and gasp and clench of your body

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): you, sat on her lap, thighs invitingly spread over her own, preferably fully naked while she still dons her hunting gear, she'll make you work for it, hands behind your back rubbing yourself against her thighs, bonus points if you can get off like that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and intense, she gets scary sometimes with the way her gaze darkens ,as if she is ready to devour you whenever she sets her sight on you

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): doesn't bother with it, its soft and fair like her hair but there's a lot of it

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): she makes you swoon, she gently takes hold of your hand and brings the back of it to her lips as she bows for you and she is such a poet with her words, her treatment is rough but she whispers such flowery prose in your ears that you almost forget how sore you are left after everything is said and done

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): doesn't care to do it by herself, especially if she has you by her side, she'll wait patiently for your next visit, she has nothing but patience and time in her hands after all

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): scent kink, bloodplay, boot worship, clothed sex etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): she has no shame, not any more especially, if she wants you amongst beasts and men she'll have you, you have to be the one to stop her before things get too far, her face buried in your neck her hands climbing up and inside your thighs

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): she doesn't like to play coy, you have to straight up tell her what you want, and if you can't, out of shame or embarrassment, she'll help you

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): she does not share, she will never accept bringing someone else into your love life

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): she wants you on your knees, working for it with just your mouth, hands behind your back, she'll barely even help you remove her pants, you'll have to figure it out by yourself, using your teeth to unlace her, mouthing against the fabric before she finally lets you remove them with a lift of her hips

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): slow and torturous, she is methodical and unrelenting, unmovable when she finds that spot that makes you squirm

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): she refuses to be rushed, if you fall into her clutches be prepared to lose a lot of time, try to rush her and she'll purposefully drag it out

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): depends what you mean by risk, some would say just having sex with her is a risk of its own, but not really she knows what she enjoys so she sticks to that

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): she will have you crying and trembling from exhaustion, sweetly asking you to hold out for her a bit longer, just a bit

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): doesn't care for them, doesn't care what you do on your own time, but it's not something that appeals to her, she'll try a few times to use them for you, but immediately forget or purposefully abandon them in favour of touching you with her own hands

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): she is not a tease, quite the opposite actually, she is more likely to overstimulate you, holding you down as you beg for her, not sure if you want her to stop or keep going

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): she is silent, unnervingly so, silent and still like a predator observing her prey ready to pounce, taking in your sounds and your ravaged appearance

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): if she had a grave, she'd definitely be the kind to want to fuck you on it, taking you aside on top of the cold stone, feeling your warmth leave your body as she slowly strips you from your layers, watching you shiver trapped beneath her

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): she is a tad obsessive, maybe thats a byproduct of the beast blood inside her, she does a good enough job from hiding that part of herself from you, but its there in the way she gazes at you whenever you come visit her

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): doesn't quite rest, she needs to be sure you are safe before she is comfortable to lay back down with you, the dangers of beasts and the hunt calling to her a constant worry in her head, you need to pull her down to convince her to finally relax

[witheredoffherwitch]

Not here to start anything but did you not reach out to the person who was the victim of racism here to see her opinion on it? Because she's been quite vocal and clear that things with Em are patched.

Hi nonnie,

I am taking your ask because this ABSOLUTELY needs to be addressed. Your question is a prime example of why I made that post in the first place. So many of you are completely missing the point: this is not just about "fanfic drama" between two people anymore. The main post that detailed all the leaked text messages is WILD to me, because while they revealed some nasty mean girl behaviour from some, it also showed a blatant display of participation and encouragement in bullying, harassment, and racism from everyone involved. And yet, the most disturbing part is the reaction from your community. It's beyond baffling atp!

To answer your question in a nutshell, I joined this fandom after all that drama went down. When those texts came out, I was honestly confused and had to reach out to my own desi community to figure out what was going on. Turns out at the time, Shruie mentioned getting racist attacks but Bel had everyone convinced she was lying - and since Shruie was a considerably smaller blog, she was ostracized and her concerns were brushed off as mere ploy to get attention and sympathy. And now, with the recent revelation of Bel's use of rat emojis, do you see why that part is crucial here? Can you grasp why even the slightest knowledge of Bel's despicable behaviour is significant here? And, do you comprehend how the lack of condemnation only perpetuates a culture of racist hatred towards this person of colour? It's time to confront and acknowledge these issues head-on.

This drama happened back in July of LAST YEAR (?) and now it's being leaked? And you expect us to just forgive and forget because they made up with one person involved? Sorry, I'm not buying it. They only reached out to the victim because they had a falling out with the main perpetrator. If they truly take responsibility for their actions, then GOOD! But excuse me for being wary of this community who will coddle these grown ass women to tell them repeatedly how they are an “integral part of this fandom” or how they “meant well” while making these mistakes over and over again.

Some of us don't see this as just a petty fanfic squabble anymore. And if you still don't see it, then I don't expect you ever will. Your biases blind you - and frankly, I no longer have any interest in trying to make you see. This ain't my first rodeo with people who want to jump on the anti-racism train but are actually part of the problem. My post was meant to call out the toxic behavior that has gone unchecked for too long. Grace, @the-heartlines said it perfectly, so I'm linking her post here for those who need it spelled out more eloquently. This isn't about the fanfic community - because let's be real, I'm not even a part of it. You're all too focused on maintaining your little popularity contests and chasing upvotes to see how your own biases affect your actions. My words are for the rest of the fandom, who can see through the facade and finally speak out against this BS.

[marblemoovt]

Christmas Present - Simon Riley/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Fluff with a smidge of hurt/comfort because of misunderstandings.

Summary:

After dating for three years, you get to finally spend a Christmas together with Simon. Things go sideways when he misunderstands your decision to grow your family.

------

You bounce on the balls of your feet. “I have a present for you.” Leaning close to Simon’s ear, you whisper, “you’re a father, now.” The poor man bluescreens on you. His eyes are wide and vacant. You run into the bedroom, your head peeking out the doorway with a grin before disappearing again. You present a wriggling Doberman puppy with a shiny red bow wrapped around its midsection. “Meet our baby!”

Simon is gone. Fuck.

Note:

Hello!! I am so happy I am finally done with this. I really wanted to get this finished in time for Christmas, but I failed to do that. Between work and procrastination, it's hard to get any writing done.

I hope this fluff heals all your souls as it did mine, consider it a belated holiday present :D

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Was it an impulsive decision? Completely. Was it more of a Christmas gift to yourself than to Simon? Definitely—but how could you resist those eyes?!?

Let’s backtrack a bit. It’s a few days before Christmas. You’re among the general population who do their shopping last minute. Simon isn’t due home until tomorrow, and you want to cook him something nice for dinner. The holiday season never fails to awaken your craving for cinnamon and sugar. You plan on making mince pies and gingerbread cookies for dessert. The cookies also double as a gift for a party that’s happening on Christmas. 

It’s a small party with his coworkers and their families. You practically pestered poor Simon until he gave into your whims, which didn’t take much effort. He grumbled about wanting to stay home to cuddle with you in front of the fireplace, but you pointed out that he could do that at the party. 

Simon will complain and exhibit his apparent allergy to large social settings, but you think he secretly enjoys it. He isn’t keen on interacting with people he’s unfamiliar with. But to exist in a room full of people he likes, who are having a good time… you always notice how his eyes soften. 

That’s your take on it, anyway. Simon is difficult to read sometimes, especially when he’s spacing out. But you like staring into his eyes, deciphering the hidden meaning in their depths. You find the rich coffee colour gorgeous, and he always looks away when you remind him about it. It’s funny watching this giant man try to make himself appear small; he takes up too much space. 

Your lips spread into a fond smile, and you adjust your clothes, the oversized hoodie swallowing your figure. The faint scent of bourbon and cedar still clings to the fabric, and you inhale deeply. Tomorrow. Twenty-four hours. Then you’ll be reunited with the man you love. Oddly enough, this will be your first Christmas together despite dating for three years. Simon was away on a mission for the other two, and a bouquet was always delivered to your doorstep on Christmas morning. The first one consisted of blue salvias, lavender, and forget-me-nots. The second bouquet had red salvias and white carnations. You pressed a few to keep in a scrapbook and dried the rest. The preserved bouquets are in a box you keep in the closet to protect them from the sunlight.

You grab the last item on your shopping list and head to the checkout. Once everything is packed in your car, you decide to warm up with a cup of hot chocolate. There’s a cafe nearby within walking distance. There also happens to be an animal shelter on the way. Sometimes you just can’t resist looking at all the animals, and you often have to force yourself to leave empty-handed. 

But today feels different. Maybe it’s the holiday magic in the air, but when you reach the dog section, all the air is knocked from your lungs. In the first kennel is a small Doberman puppy. And her rich coffee eyes lock your limbs in place. 

A worker notices your interest and walks up to you. “That’s Phantom. All her brothers and sisters have already left for new homes. She’s the smallest of the litter, and that seems to be the main reason no one has adopted her yet.” The puppy wags her little tail at the mention of her name. Your heart melts under the gaze of her eyes, which appear too large for her head.

“Because she’s smaller than her siblings?” you ask. It sounds silly to not adopt a dog based on appearance. Health concerns you could understand, but colour and size? Heck, you would be ecstatic to just have a dog. Although size could be significant depending on your living situation. But still, to not adopt this sweet pup because she’s too little is ridiculous.

The worker’s lips twist into a sad smile. “There are many reasons why people will overlook an animal, and they don’t always make sense.”

Your attention remains fixed on Phantom. Her brown eyes never leave your figure, observing you silently. “How long has she been here?” you ask. She still looks relatively young. You don’t think she’s even half a year old yet.

The worker shuffles through a clipboard hanging next to Phantom’s kennel. “We rescued her mother while she was still pregnant. Her whole life, it seems. The entire litter wasn’t available for adoption until two months ago.” They pause and glance at Phantom with furrowed brows. “Puppies normally get adopted quickly, but she hasn’t been lucky” The sentence sends a hollow pang in your heart that settles heavily in your gut.

“Could I meet her?” you whisper, the words constricting in your throat. You wet your chapped lips and haul yourself out of the deep chocolate ocean.

“Sure.” The door to the kennel is unlatched, and the metal hinges swing with a creak. Phantom sits there and watches you. Afraid to make sudden movements, your remain still and quiet your breathing. She stands up and pads slowly towards you. You crouch down and leave one hand, palm facing up, in front of you. As Phantom draws near, her nose twitches. She eyes you and nudges your hand with her snout. You grin at the wet, ticklish sensation and bite back a laugh. Slowly, you scratch the underside of her chin before moving down to her chest and back.

There’s a gentle woosh of wind, and this time you can’t hold in your delight any longer. A chuckle rumbles through your chest, and the sound of wind grows louder. Phantom licks your fingers and barks. It’s more like a tiny yip, and you are screaming on the inside.

“I think you’re coming home with me,” you mumble and pause. “How am I going to explain this to Simon?” You can picture the disapproving look on his face.

You fill out the adoption papers and exit the shelter with a very excited puppy. Forgetting about hot chocolate, you go to the pet store and buy the basic necessities for Phantom. When you get home, you manage to carry everything into the house while holding onto the leash. Fortunately, Phantom isn’t a puller. She walks beside you nicely and even moves out of the way to avoid the bags of groceries and presents. With great difficulty, you unlock the door and push the handle down with your elbow. You set the bags down and slip off your shoes, shutting the door with your foot.

Phantom immediately begins sniffing around, circling and tangling you with the leash. You laugh at her enthusiasm and reach down to unclip the leash from her harness. With the sudden removal of weight, Phantom bounds across the floor, bumping into furniture and smelling anything she can reach. It’s funny because she’s sniffing so intently that it’s audibly heard—loud too. Her nose twitches, and she buries her snout into a heap of fabric on the ground. One of his shirts you keep on the sofa as a little Simon blanket for when you binge-watch. It must have fallen when you dozed off last night. You accidentally skipped two seasons because the autoplay didn’t stop.

“Let’s find a spot to put your bed.” You grab the circular, foam dog bed and head towards the bedroom. Phantom trails behind you with the shirt sleeve between her jaws. You chuckle and hold the rest so it doesn’t drag across the floor. She doesn’t let go, and it turns into a leash of sorts. The master bedroom has a King size bed. A big bed for your big man. Phantom could definitely fit on it, but you don’t want her to develop a habit of sleeping there until you check that Simon is ok with it. He doesn’t like to share, especially when he has to share you. You place the dog bed next to the bedside drawer. Close enough that Phantom won’t feel left out, but far away enough that she won’t get stepped on in the morning in case you or Simon forget. 

She tugs the shirt with her toward her new bed. You let go, and it falls in a heap and buries the puppy. “Simon blankets are comfortable, aren’t they?” you ask. She lets out a small ‘woof’ and wiggles her head out from underneath. Your smile stretches wide. “Let’s get the rest of your things sorted.” And so you spend the rest of the evening storing toys, placing bowls, everything you could think of when one adopts a puppy. Phantom keeps you company and entertains you with her silly antics. She’s already picked a favourite out of all the toys you bought her, and you silently squeal that night when she curls up in bed with it. You snap a picture, fingers itching to send it to Simon. But you’re not quite ready for his wrath yet. 

In the morning, you awake to scratching and whimpering. You bolt upwards, eyes darting around the room before landing on Phantom at the door. Stumbling out of bed, you rub your eyes and shuffle to the backyard door. Phantom trots outside and sniffs around before settling in a corner to pee. You lean against the doorway and watch as she continues to explore, wrapping your arms around yourself. The familiar cacophony of twitters and chirps starts up. Phantom pauses and tilts her head at the bird feeders set up in the old oak tree. She doesn’t bark but observes silently. 

“You’re a lot quieter than I was expecting,” you mumble. At your whistle, Phantom glances one more time at the birds before heading back inside. “Did you have fun?” Her tail thumps against your calves. You turn into the kitchen and measure out some puppy kibble for Phantom. 

Once she starts eating, you make breakfast for yourself. A simple toast with butter and a fried egg. As the egg is cooking, your phone buzzes against the counter. You jump a little, and even the crunching of kibble pauses for a few seconds before resuming. Glancing at the screen, you see the notification is a text message. The skull emoji sends you grappling for your phone. 

Simon💀: ETA 3 hours from now. Have you eaten yet, poppet?

You bite your lip and grin. Can’t he just say what he means? Your thumbs fly across the screen as you type your reply. 

Poppet🧸: I’m cooking breakfast now. Do you want me to pick you up from the airport?

You hit send and attach a picture of the stovetop. The egg is nearly done, so you turn off the heat, and the toaster clicks a beat later. Your phone tickles your hand, and you eagerly read Simon’s response. 

Simon💀: You got the appetite of a mouse. And negative. I can take a taxi. 

You chuckle and make a mental note to look for the car keys later. 

Poppet🧸: Ok, I’ll pick you up in 3 hours. 

Then you put your phone in silent mode and place it on the counter screen-down. You grab a plate from the cupboards and transfer the finished egg. Rummaging through the fridge, you locate the butter and decide to treat yourself to some marmalade today. 

After eating, you still have 2 and a half hours until Simon’s plane lands. Which leaves you roughly an hour until you need to drive to the airport. With the spare time, you prepare the gingerbread dough since it needs time to chill in the fridge. You combine all the ingredients together and cover the dough in plastic wrap. When you shut the fridge door, Phantom is there beside you, staring at you with her big brown eyes. 

You end up googling a recipe for dog-friendly gingerbread cookies. 

You now have an hour left to get to the airport. Phantom is gnawing on a cookie when you leave her in the bedroom. You bought a kennel last night and didn’t set it up until earlier. Shutting the bedroom door, you grab the car keys off the counter and head outside. 

The weather is dreary as usual. It hardly snows in the winter, but the overcast skies look ready to cry any minute now. You drum on the steering wheel along to the song on the radio. The car hasn’t quite warmed up, and you tug your jacket sleeves down. Your phone goes off again, and you pull over to read the message.

Simon💀: Landing in half an hour.

You switch to the navigation app, and there’s no way you’ll get there on time with the current traffic conditions. Shifting gears, you apply more pressure to the gas pedal than is legally acceptable. Each time you glance at the digital clock in the car, your anxiety spikes. You still clutch onto the belief that you’ll make it on time. The second the next hour passes, the pool of dread in your stomach overflows into the rest of your body. Suddenly it’s too cold and too hot at the same time. You fiddle with the thermostat and turn up the radio, hoping Mariah Carey will drown your irrational thoughts. 

The road sign for the airport comes into view, and you lean back into your seat. Your knuckles regain colour as you loosen your grip on the steering wheel. Changing lanes, you head in the direction of the parking lot. After parking, your shoes thwap against the wet pavement. Walking through automated doors, the buzz of the airport fills your ears. Squeaky wheels from dragged luggage. Thousands of footsteps are accompanied by the indistinct chatter of an entire building of people. But all that noise fades to the background when you spot him. You’re well-trained in the art of Simon spotting, a skill his enemies would be envious of.

It’s hard to describe. When you know someone well—and utterly adore them—you can recognize them with just a glance. That’s how it is with Simon. He always blends into whatever environment he’s in, but that unmistakable warmth that blooms in your chest and pools comfortably in your stomach. It’s like your body has been trained to recognize him.

So when your heart flutters at the brooding, hooded figure in the corner of the cafe, obscured by a potted plant, you know you’ve found him. Rich chocolate eyes meet yours, and they soften ever so slightly. You head to him, your feet stumbling over one another as they bicker over which pace to take. He opens an arm out, and you start running, flying across the ground until you crash into him. Simon steadies you with an arm around your waist. His hands rest on your hips, and he pulls you closer. Bourbon and cedar fill your senses, and you melt into his chest. 

“Been a while,” he murmurs into your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of your shampoo.

You do your best to hug him back and squeeze with all your strength. “I missed you too.”

He pulls back and cradles your face in his hands, drinking in every line and curve. His thumb brushes against the slant of your smile, and his eyes crinkle at the edges. You lean in and peck where his mouth would be. His fingers tighten their hold, and he narrows his eyes at you. Someone drops their bags, and the loud thumps send his eyes snapping in the direction of the noise. He looks back at you, then around the airport, and releases your face. His hand drops and pinches your waist, and you know he’s smirking underneath the baklava. 

“Ordered a drink for you,” and he nods at the table beside him. “Got thirsty waiting and thought you could use one.” You pick up the cup and sniff the lid. The scent of chocolate and whipped cream fills your senses, and you catch the faintest whiff of cinnamon. Taking a sip, the hot chocolate coats your tastebuds with sugar and spices. A small groan escapes your lips, and your fingers curl around the warm paper cup.

“Traffic was terrible,” you say, thinking back to all the vehicles on the roads. It didn’t help that an accident occurred and slowed everybody down.

Simon glances at the watch on his wrist and taps its face. “Half an hour late. You would be terrible at evac,” he muses. There’s a lilt in his tone, so you roll your eyes and take another sip of hot chocolate. Another wave of sweetness rolls down your throat, and your stomach buzzes pleasantly with warmth. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Lucky I’m not in the military then.”

Simon stares at you and says, “What a blessing.”

Hot chocolate dribbles from the corner of your mouth, and you wipe it away with your sleeve. “Oh, shut up, Riley. I bet I would make a damn good soldier.” You straighten your spine and give him a mock salute.

His eyes never leave you, and the silence stretches for a minute or two. “I like the way things are. It’s dangerous out there; don’t need to be lookin’ out for you too.”

The curve of your smile flips. “What? You think I’d be dead weight?”

“Not what I meant,” and he reaches out a hand to you, but you shrug it off. 

“Whatever. Let’s go. I’m not paying for another hour of parking. The airport prices are ridiculous.” You take a sip of your hot chocolate. There’s a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

The drive back home is silent. Neither of you bring up what happened earlier at the airport. The radio is on low volume. Instrumentals of classic Christmas carols play. There’s that feeling of being watched, but your eyes remain on the road. You focus on the nice saxophone solo and not on Simon. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers begins to irk you a little. Still, no words are spoken.

His gaze continues to sear into your flesh, and just when you’re about to implode, Simon speaks first. “I’m sorry,” he says. You don’t respond, only turning off the radio. “What I meant was I don’t want to fear for your safety.” He pauses, and you hear him take a deep breath. “I like knowin’ you’re safe—at least safer here than if you were out on the field.” You pull over the car and shut off the engine. You face him, mouth glued shut. His eyes are glassy, and his brows are drawn close together. “Poppet, I can’t lose you,” and a tear falls. You scramble to unbuckle your seatbelt, clambering over to the passenger seat. Straddling his lap, you pull him into a fierce hug.

The most powerful man you know is clinging to you like he’ll fall apart with a single blow. Like a boat in a storm, desperately trying to survive the waves battering against its hull. You pry your lips apart and force the words to claw out of your throat. “I’m sorry that I lashed out. I haven’t seen you in 3 months and 10 days, but who’s counting?” A watery chuckle gurgles in your throat. “The point is, I’ve been pining like a fool, and when I heard those words, it made me feel like you didn’t miss me at all.”

Simon shakes his head and pulls you closer to his chest. “I’ve seen you flay men alive with a single glare, never mind what you could be capable of with some proper training. But to think about you dyin’ on a mission? ‘specially when I could have saved you? It would ruin me.” He strokes your hair, and you stare into his deep, brown eyes. “And didn’t miss you? That’s a load of bollocks. Poppet, you are constantly with me here,” he points to his head, “and here.” He places your hand over his beating heart. The pulse beneath your palm is erratic. “You’re mine, and I can’t lose you; I refuse to. You’re not dyin’ before me, you understand?”

You exhale and stretch to kiss his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Simon. There will be no death for either of us for a long time if I can help it.” His shoulders slacken, and you wipe away a stray tear from his eyes before it has a chance to fall. “I know it deep down in my bones, but it’s just nice to hear you say it sometimes. That you love me or miss me.”

“I missed you, poppet,” he murmurs into your hair.

You mute your chuckle with his shoulder, and he shudders from the vibrations. “It sounds disingenuous when you say it after I tell you to,” you say,

Simon huffs, “Bloody hell. I was tryin’ to be romantic.” Your fingers trail the edge of his baklava, and when he remains still, you roll the fabric up to expose his lips. He watches you with dark eyes. You cup his face with both hands and kiss him. It’s short and bittersweet. As much as you want to continue, you don’t want to stay on the side of the road any longer. If you’re unlucky, a concerned passerby might knock and ask if you need assistance. You would then proceed to die of embarrassment.

So instead, you pull away and whisper, “Are we ok?”

His eyes scan your face before lingering on your lips. “We are if you give me another kiss,” he replies. You lean in to kiss him again, and his hand cradles the back of your skull, keeping you in place. Every time you draw in air, he finds a way to steal it from your lungs. Your head spins from the lack of oxygen, and you don’t even notice the little moans and whimpers you let out. His beard rubs against your skin, and his lips are addicting. Thick fingers dig into your waist. The hand on your head is removed, and you pull away, panting. He gazes at you through hooded lids, pupils swallowed by black.

“I can’t drive the car if you keep me in your lap,” and you wrap your fingers around his hands, prying their grip on you. He relents, and you climb over to the driver's seat. You turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Simon reaching a hand out to you. There’s gentle pressure on top of your head, and you realize that he’s smoothing out your hair. He doesn’t say anything but does one last pet that trails his hand down to cup your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb before pulling away. Your face already feels cold with the absence of his touch.

Clearing your throat, you turn on the signal light and continue the drive home. As you get closer to your destination, you grow more nervous for multiple reasons. 1) You have no idea if Phantom destroyed anything while you were gone. 2) You don’t know how Simon will react to Phantom. 3) You don’t know how upset Simon will be if reason 1 turns out to be true.

When you arrive, Simon holds the door open for you. You thank him and head inside. He follows after you, and the wheels of his suitcase clack when they catch on the bottom of the doorframe. The house still has traces of cloves and nutmeg in the air, a reminder of the gingerbread dough chilling in the fridge. Simon shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the couch. Unable to hide it any longer, you decide to show him Phantom right away.

You bounce on the balls of your feet. “I have a present for you.” Leaning close to Simon’s ear, you whisper, “you’re a father, now.” The poor man bluescreens on you. His eyes are wide and vacant. You run into the bedroom, your head peeking out the doorway with a grin before disappearing again. You present a wriggling Doberman puppy with a shiny red bow wrapped around its midsection. “Meet our baby!”

Simon is gone. Fuck.

You sigh and place your child down, watching her sniff the jacket her father left behind on the couch. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you grab your phone. This is not how you wanted tonight to go. You send a few messages, but Simon doesn’t respond to a single one. Although you can see that he’s read them, which pisses you off. He couldn’t have gone far, and you still have the car keys. The closest place nearby that isn’t a house is the small market square, which contains a grocery store and several self-owned businesses. Your boots pound against the pavement,  and you dash through the streets. You reach the square and scan your surroundings. You spot him exiting a store and run up to him.

“Simon!” Your lungs burn, and your heart is rattling in your ribcage. Simon stares at you with wide eyes. His arms reach out to steady you.

“I’m sorry for leaving, poppet. When I heard, I knew I had to,” Simon says. He looks at the ground, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You pant, catching your breath as the winter air stings your throat. You lick your chapped lips and begin to speak. “Simon, I—”

He cuts you off. “But no matter what, I will always—”

You interrupt him because you need to clear up the misunderstanding now. “Simon, I—”

“It’s alright, poppet. I would never—”

Your frustration reaches a boiling point. “I ADOPTED A PUPPY!” Flames engulf your entire face, and you’re positive there’s steam rising off your head. A few passersby stop walking at your outburst, and you shrink beneath their stares. Simon shields your body with his large frame and smooths your wind-ruffled hair. “Simon, I adopted a puppy,” you repeat.

“A puppy?” he rumbles, low and soothing.

You nod and smile. “Yes, a puppy. The cutest one I’ve ever seen.”

He raises a brow. “Walks on four legs, barks, and has a little tail that wags?”

You chuckle. “Last time I checked, yes.”

Simon sighs and leans into you. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot. We left the poor pup all alone,” and he holds your hand and leads you home. 

You struggle to keep up with his long strides. Simon slows down when he notices you falling behind. “She. She’s all alone,” you say.

“Did she come with a name?” he asks.

You answer with, “Phantom.” Simon gives you a deadpan stare. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not messing with you. That’s her name,” you insist. 

“So I suppose it’s all a coincidence?” he snorts. 

You tilt your head. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Squeezing his hand, you chirp, “Then it was a miracle. A Christmas miracle.”

“Poppet, the only miracle I’ll accept is when you walked into my life. Anything else is the harsh reality we live in.” You falter in your steps, stumbling forward when Simon doesn’t notice. He looks back at you, and time freezes. Deep brown eyes gaze upon you fondly, and a chill washes over your body. Behind the indifference is a tenderness reserved only for you. He brushes his thumb across your hand and tugs you into his side. His arm rests around your waist for the rest of the walk home.

You pause in front of the house and tug on his shirt. “I know you said you don’t like pets because they’re a big commitment, but I promise you’re going to love her,” you say.

His chuckle is hollow. “I think you overestimate my ability with animals. Not a bloody chance will she like me,” and you can hear the grimace in his tone.

You unlock the door, and Phantom greets you inside. She circles you and Simon, sniffing your pants. You grin and crouch down, accepting the sloppy kisses she gives you. Phantom races off to the living room, and you find her burrowed in a heap of Simon’s jacket. She must have pulled it off the couch after you left. Simon says nothing but watches the puppy with amusement.

“Go play with the puppy while I bake the gingerbread cookies,” you say, disappearing around the corner. 

Simon trails after you. “Barrin’ me from the kitchen already? I’m a great helper.”

You scoff and block him from entering further. “No. What you mean is you’re great at eating all my cookies before I get a chance to decorate them.” You wave your hands and push him out of the kitchen. His hulking frame budges with remarkable ease. “Now, shoo. I need enough for the party tomorrow.”

Simon raises his hands in surrender and plants a kiss on your head before heading to the living room. You take out the dough from the refrigerator and flour the counter. You roll the dough out until it’s about an inch thick before using cookie cutters in various holiday shapes. Lining a baking sheet with parchment paper, you transfer the cut cookies. You collect the scraps of dough and reroll it.

Simon’s head pops into the doorway. “Poppet, what’s this?” he asks. The plushie of a cartoon ghost with a skull mask looks microscopic in his large hands.

You gasp, “That’s Phantom’s favourite toy! The store was having a clearance sale on all their Halloween stock, and it reminded me of you. I have a picture of her cuddling with it in bed.” You move to grab your phone from your pocket, but your hands are covered in flour and dough. “I’ll send it to you after I clean up.”

Simon says nothing, cradling the ghost plushie to his chest with a newfound tenderness as he returns to the living room. Phantom’s excited yip greets his footfalls, and your smile nearly splits your face into two. You continue cutting out more cookies, ending up with multiple trays worth.

As you place a few trays into the oven, Simon passes by. His footsteps are silent when he typically stomps around to alert you of his presence. He stops when you catch him leaving.

“And where are you off to?” you ask, setting the timer on the oven, careful not to accidentally turn the heat off instead.

Simon shrugs and says, “On a walk,” with an air of indifference.

“Will you carry Phantom in your arms the entire time?” you ask. Phantom’s tail thumps against Simon’s lower abdomen. He’s carrying her like a baby, and she looks at you with her tongue lolling out. “She has a leash, Simon. Use it.” You point to the hooks on the wall where the jackets go, Phantom’s leash being the newest addition.

He looks at the leash, Phantom, then back at you. “Her little paws might get tired,” and he waves one of her paws. 

You shake your head, holding back a grin. “She’s a lot tougher than she looks.” You haven’t told Simon, but anyone with eyes can see that Phantom is small for her breed. 

There’s a glint in Simon’s eyes. “Yeah? Must take after you, then,” he comments. Phantom barks in agreement. You stick your tongue out when he turns his back to you. “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” You feign ignorance. 

Simon grabs the leash and clips it onto Phantom’s harness. He looks at you and shakes his head at the Cheshire grin on your face. “Saw you bein’ a cheeky little thing.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re on about,” you say with a shrug. “Could you pick up some icing sugar on your walk? I’m running low.”

Simon nods and walks out the door, Phantom trotting dutifully by his side. You bite your lip and lean against the counter. God, you love watching him walk away. 

While the cookies bake, you pass the time by window shopping online. Specifically dog products. You’re in the middle of reading the product description for dog thongs—who invented these anyway??—when the front door unlocks. Your finger zeroes in on the little ‘x’ to delete the page from your phone. You check on the cookies. One batch is currently on the cooling rack, while another is in the oven.

Phantom zooms into the kitchen, snout turned upwards and twitching madly. Cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg fill the air. You can almost taste the spices on your tongue. Crouching down, you give Phantom little scritches behind her ear, and she tilts her head to give you easier access. Her hind leg twitches, and you chuckle. Heavy thumps and the creak of wood travel through the kitchen, and a shadow is cast over you. Glancing up, you see Simon holding a bouquet.

You stand up and accept the bundle of delicate red and white flowers. Bringing your face closer, you breathe in their sweet scent. The soft petals tickle your nose, and you resist the urge to sneeze.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and shuffles his feet. “Did you think I would forget?”

You rub the petals between your fingertips; they feel like satin. “I wasn’t expecting any since you’re home this year,” you confess. You assumed the bouquets were an apology for missing Christmas. The edelweiss and peonies will make a lovely addition to your collection. 

Simon rubs the back of his neck. “Don’t like ‘em?” And the low baritone of his voice pitches. 

A soft smile spreads across your face. You embrace Simon and rest your head against his chest. His heart races, rattling loud like a machine gun. “You silly man. I love everything you give me,” you reassure him, and the gunfire ceases. 

Your head rises and falls with each breath he draws. “Just makin’ sure,” he rasps, combing his fingers through your hair. His hands trail down to your waist and leave your body. You notice him inching towards the cooling rack on the counter. 

You smack his hand away and scold him. “Uh uh. Keep your hands away from my cookies. And don’t use your sneaky ninja skills to steal one. I will know if one of them goes missing.” Simon is not above using his military experience to snatch baked goods. He got away with it once, and you’ve made it a personal mission to never let it happen again.

“But there’s so many of ‘em. Nobody will complain if you show up with one less,” he grumbles.

You sigh, “Fine, but only because you won’t leave me alone until I give you a cookie.” He adjusts his baklava. There’s zero hesitation when he reaches over and amputates the arm of a gingerbread man. “Hey! You’re getting crumbs in my hair.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles with a full mouth, brushing your hair gently.

You remain in his arms, breathing in the sweet scent of bourbon mixed with his musk. Crunching fills the void of silence in the room. You look around and notice it’s only the two of you. “How’s Phantom?” you ask.

Simon glances in the direction of the living room. He hums, and the vibrations tickle you. “Out like a light. Walk must've tired her out,” he answers.

You plant a kiss on his chin, and his eyes soften. His fingers squeeze your hips. “I’m almost done. I’ll join you two in the living room soon,” you say.

He nuzzles the side of your head. “Don’t be too long,” he says, pulling away and caressing your cheek. You lean into his touch and nod, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. The crinkles around his eyes mirror yours. Simon nabs another cookie and darts out of the kitchen before you can stop him. You sigh and shake your head, looking for a vase to keep the flowers in.

Another twenty minutes pass before you’re done. You slide the last tray of cookies out of the oven and set it on the stovetop to cool. Remembering Simon, you pull off your oven mitts and check up on him and Phantom. You pause in the doorway, smiling to yourself at what you see. Simon is watching the tv, his eyelids drooping shut and snapping open every few seconds. He’s lying on the couch with Phantom curled up on his chest.

“I knew you would love her,” you whisper. Wide brown eyes lock onto your figure, and Simon sinks into the couch after seeing it’s you.

“A little help here?” he grunts. You stifle a chuckle at his current predicament. 

“Can’t move a puppy, Lieutenant?” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes at you. “Haven’t you heard of the saying: let sleeping dogs lie?”

You scoop up Phantom, who barely stirs from her sleep. Simon scoots further in and turns onto his side, patting the empty space beside him. You lie next to him with Phantom sandwiched between the two of you. His strong arms lock around your waist and prevent you from rolling off the edge. 

The next few minutes are spent in silence, exchanging looks and gentle touches. Simon’s words catch you off guard. “Life without you is like the night sky without stars; empty and fuckin’ miserable to look at.” You drown in endless pools of black, seeing your reflection stare back with wide eyes. The silence amplifies the pounding in your ears. He speaks with such sincerity and conviction that you feel it with every fibre of your being. 

Your lips twist into a smile, and you say, “I love you too.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Merry Christmas, poppet.” His fingers draw random shapes on your back, eliciting a shudder from you.

“Merry Christmas, Simon,” you whisper, lips grazing against the fabric of his mask. He makes a content hum and watches you with an affectionate gaze. The fireplace crackles and tiny snores come from Phantom. The scent of gingerbread wafts from the kitchen and infiltrates the living room. Cozy. You feel cozy.

Simon stretches and groans, “I’ll be back. Need to make a quick trip to the loo.” He crawls over you, careful not to wake Phantom. The puppy twitches but otherwise gives no other indicators of consciousness. You reach for the tv remote and browse for a show to watch, already missing the heat of his body.

Simon goes to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He tugs the baklava off and rubs a hand over his face. From his pocket, he fishes out a small, velvet-lined box. He rushed to pick up his order when he heard the news.

His phone chimes, and he opens a message from you. There are two pictures. The first is Phantom curled up in her dog bed with the ghost plushie. His lips quirk, and he swipes to view the second photo. His heart stutters, fingers clutching the phone tight. It’s a miracle the screen protector doesn’t shatter. The second photo is a selfie of you and Phantom cuddling where he left you. There’s a goofy smile on your face despite your worried eyes drifting toward the sleeping dog. He can see the slight furrow in your brows—fuck do you make him soft. Now there’s a new addition to your family, and the pup proved him wrong when he thought he couldn’t grow softer. A tightness overcomes his chest, and his vision swims. 

And suddenly, he’s scared. Because somehow, in this fucked up world, he found you. A random variable in his life that he has no control over. He’s terrified you’ll be ripped away from him like everyone else. That’s why he needs to do this. Needs to tie you to him forever so that there’s always a piece of you with him. Definitive proof that you are his. The night sky was a cheesy line, but he meant every word. He doesn’t want to come home to an empty apartment anymore. To count down the days until the next deployment. To worry about what terrible thing comes next. To function in life on autopilot. 

Simon Riley is entirely aware of how much he loves you. And he’s terrified of how to prove it.

He exits the bathroom, one hand fidgeting with the box in his pocket. 

“Bloody fucking hell.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

This thing honestly grew a lot bigger than I was expecting. The party mentioned above is definitely a party with the 141 and vaqueros, and I headcanon it to be the first official introduction between the reader and everyone. In that universe anyway.

Also, I totally did not plan on ending it with a possible proposal, it just kinda happened lol. Have fun imagining because I don't think I'll write it.

I do have an idea for a single-dad Price fic because we all know that would make such cute fluff. It was originally going to be for the holidays too, but I'll probably modify the story to work without it.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!