#and i disappear into the night once again

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Prologue

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel had always liked Starfall. 

Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine. 

Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it. 

Feyre had invited Lucien. 

A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice. 

And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.

*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced. 

Of course, he did. 

Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.

Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.

*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*

Azriel wasn't going to ruin it. 

So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.

The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars. 

Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.

At least he had this .

As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.

He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.

*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*

* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *

*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*

Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.

*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.

* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *

Rhys let out an exasperated breath.

*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*

*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.

Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*

* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.

*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*

Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.

*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*

* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *

*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*

*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.

*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it. 

*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *

*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*

* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.

*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.

* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *

Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*

Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.

Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.

The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.

It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.

There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.

He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.

Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do. 

He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start. 

"Spymaster."

Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky. 

One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that. 

Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena. 

Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions… 

She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough. 

Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit. 

Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims. 

Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was. 

And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.

She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here. 

"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.

She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face. 

But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.

His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…

Irena. 

She was his mate .

" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.

Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.

His mate .

His mate was sitting in front of him. 

Irena .

Irena was his mate.

"Azriel," she whispered,  her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

 They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...

But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.

"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.

"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.

"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.

"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly. 

She looked…so young right at that moment. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.

His . She was his .

Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."

"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?

"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."

Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...

"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.

She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.

Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.

He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.

"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.

 "I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly. 

"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."

She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.

"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."

She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.

It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.

"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed. 

He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly. 

"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."

"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.

"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.

Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.

Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.

He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.

"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore. 

She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.

Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.

"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.

From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...

"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."

She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .

"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.

She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.

He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.

"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.

Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and

Breathe .  He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .

And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."

She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.

Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.

Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?

Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.

She was breathtakingly beautiful

For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .

It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.

His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.

This was real. She was his mate.

She was truly, truly his.

His .

And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.

And selfishly...that felt really good.

Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.

He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.

She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.

Notes:

If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[leaawrites]

Dial Drunk

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Lando is young, drunk and in love.

Warnings: police, driving under influence, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, bad dialogue (this one is old)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

He’d seen the blue and red colour in his rear view mirror long before he could even register that he was sat in his car, neither where he was driving. His head felt dull, filled with too many thoughts of things he swore to forget. Things he swore wouldn’t matter anymore because they shouldn’t. One of them being her.

She was in all of them actually, whether she played the main character or was just a side thought, but she was always there. In the back of his mind, where he still heard her voice talk to him in such a soft tone like no one would ever be able to do, she was still taking his hands and making him dance with her through his living room. Even against every complaint from his side, she wouldn’t let him sit down again. Instead they were swaying to the rock song that played next.

Now, he was looking at the officer standing next to his car, a disappointment look in both their eyes and a sense of the other in their mind. They were in the middle of nowhere. Lando on his way to her. The man on his way back to his work, probably to link out for tonight and go back home. A place where Lando should be too.

“What have we been up to tonight, sir?” He asked, looking down at the bruised knuckles that still held onto the steering wheel like he was afraid of letting go and having nothing to steady himself on.

Lando wasn’t too sure how to answer. He wasn’t too sure about what he was up to that night himself. A couple drinks in a club, which Max urged him to go to, in order to ‘free him from his bed and sulking’. After the shots, there were some girls. Interesting enough to dance with but he knew that they wouldn’t come home with him, he was sure they knew that too. They knew who he was. And then - a guy he wouldn’t call a stranger, neither a friend, simply some guy he knew - said something about her. About them.

His voice dripped with alcohol, his words intoxicated by the shots they took together. Lando shouldn’t have taken them the way he did, he knew that now, but it felt right in the moment. His fist in the other guy’s face, he just wanted him to stop talking. Unsure if he would’ve made him quiet forever, Max pulled him away quicker than Lando could think about his actions. Then he went away; out into the cold and into his car to tell her about the bad he’d done for her.

“Not a lot,” Lando answered, looking down guilty. Both of them knew that Lando wasn’t sober, they also knew that he wouldn’t get away from this unharmed.

“May you blow into this?”

He did, and when the officer raised his eyebrows at the result of the alcohol test, Lando knew he was fucked.

“Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?” The officer asked, dialling a number of his own on his phone already, not looking up at Lando once while talking to him. It was kind of rude, Lando believed, to ignore someone while you were talking to them. “Any emergency contacts?”

At no response, the man held out his hand for Lando to place his phone in it. Going to the emergency contacts himself, there was only one. Y/n. Simple. No heart behind her name anymore, no silly nickname, but her face was still beside it. Dialling the number it rang and rang. Lando could hear the endless sound from his place in the car, it dragged on for a while before, in the end, she hung up.

“Your only emergency contacts and they don’t even want to speak to you, not very helpful,” he commented, handing Lando his phone back. The screen lighting up at the interaction. Her face still smiling at him, he hadn’t had the heart to make her disappear completely from everywhere he knew her from. Some part of her was still with him and he couldn’t just throw it away.

“Can I drive you somewhere, sir?”

The outline of her building was in his sight sooner than he’d like it to be, the speech he’d rehearsed ever since they called it quits was now somewhere still in his car, left together with the jacket of his she loved to wear.

“You alright, kid?” The officer - Jeff - asked, knowing too well what he was going through. Anyone willing to look at him could see it in the once white, now red of his eye. It was visible in his pulled down lip corners and the void of nothing in his eyes. Feeling nothing was worse than feeling the pain, they concluded together in silence on their drive to the address Lando gave him.

‘I have a kid of my own, you know, son? He’s been in love with this boy for years now, too afraid of what would happen to him if he stated the truth, what the people would think of him. But, in the end, I told him, that love couldn’t be stopped, no matter what other people thought about it. Whether it was wrong or right in their eyes, it will always matter how it feels to you. If it’s hurting, change it. If it makes you happy, try everything to make it stay that way.’

“Thanks,” Lando muttered, a soft, still forced smile creeping on his lips now that he was there. The place he went to in his dreams as the dream she always believed he was. The dream boy she saw in him. Her dream boy.

“Good luck.”

The doorbell seemed too loud for the quiet night now, as he looked at it. The metal of it seeming too heavy for him to be able to push it down and make himself known. He couldn’t throw pebbles at her window, he wasn’t even too sure if he could even remember which window was hers.

But her name called out for him to say it once more, no matter the outcome. He just had to try it one more time.

Pushing the circle in the middle of the medal, next to her name, he could hear it echo in his mind. The sound too familiar now that he was stood here again. How many times had he been on the receiving end because he went to her apartment unannounced, without her there, and answering the door for postmen or neighbours? Too many too count, he concluded in the same moment as he heard her voice through the stereo.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded sleepy, like she’d only woken up from the sound.

All of a sudden, Lando felt flustered. Ashamed for thinking she’d just forgive him on the spot because he told her, that he loved her. It wasn’t as easy as that and that thought only crept up on him now: she had every right to deny him. But what then? What would he do? Where would he go? He couldn’t call Max, disturbing his night out because he wasn’t the man she wanted anymore. He had no one else here. His parents were too far away and everyone else he knew was either in Monaco or somewhere else in the world, just not London.

“Hello?” She voiced again, more rage filling her voice this time. “I swear if this is some stupid joke, just let it be-”

“It’s me.” Maybe he was the joke. Maybe he should just let it be.

The simple sound of his voice made her go quiet, but she didn’t hang up, she was still there, her breathing was heard when listened to closely enough.

“Can we talk?”

She let him in. The harsh buzz of the door taking him by surprise at first, before he quickly pushed it open and made his way into the hallway, up the stairs until he stood in front of her door. It was open, open for him to enter. Lando stayed still for a second longer than normally someone would, before he pushed it open to reveal the apartment behind the walls. It still looked the same, she had less pictures - theirs gone from their place - but other than that it was all the same as when he left.

Y/n was sat on the sofa, knees pulled up close to her chest and her eyes were fixated on the floor in front of her. The far left of the cushion still empty, waiting for him. Slowly, Lando made his way towards it, sitting down and taking off his head like it was disrespectful if he didn’t do it.

“You wanted to talk?” Her voice almost sounded sarcastic, like she couldn’t believe those words actually left his mouth. Him, the man who left without a second word beside: This is something I have to do alone; before walking out the door for what she believed to be forever now wanted to talk all of a sudden.

“I was dumb,” he started, the words coming out faster than he could process them. The alcohol taking off the nerves and adding the free mind he needed. “I wasn’t truthful and I was stupid and an complete wanker. I wanted you beside me, I also will and want and have. I want to love you and I know I screwed up but please, please give me another chance. Please, Y/n. Monaco, it’s so quiet without you. My whole life is too quiet now that you aren’t there. You and your laugh and talks about whatever it is that’s been on your mind lately. I miss it all.

“I miss you.”

She would lie if she said she didn’t feel the same, the city felt too big now that she had spent more time alone in it. But she would lie if she said that she was ready to forgive him.

“You hurt me. You really did.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel unwanted, like a burden almost.”

“You could never be a burden to me.”

“Didn’t sound like it back then.”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple and the side of her face in order to make the headache go away that she knew was coming her way.

“You can’t just expect me to forgive you.”

“I don’t,” he assured her, edging closer to her side.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to try and make you trust me again.”

“I never stopped trusting you.”

“You should’ve.”

“I know, but I didn’t.”

“Look, Lando.” She could see the feelings of hope and disappointment battling in his eyes, neither wanting to be wrong, because they both knew they were right, in certain ways. “I can’t just forgive you. You have to work that out yourself.”

“I will. I will do whatever it takes for you to trust me again, I promise. I just can’t keep on living without you.”

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 7

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has to face the harsh reality that she can’t help everyone.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 3790

“Whitney Frost, daughter of Byron Frost—a typical Wall Street tycoon,” Tony’s voice echoes through the phone as he reads out the details FRIDAY managed to dig up.

On Natasha’s screen, she can see multiple files and articles pulled up on Tony’s monitors, the holographic images casting a blue glow on his face as he continues.

“There are plenty of articles about her earlier years. Standard socialite magazine garbage—life of a spoiled rich kid, extravagant parties, lavish vacations. You get the idea.”

Natasha lets out a dry scoff at the irony, her lips curling slightly. 

“Coming from the playboy billionaire who once blew up half of his mansion?”

Tony gasps theatrically, placing a hand over his chest in a wounded gesture. 

“Watch it, Romanoff. I’m helping you here.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha nods. “My bad. Please, continue.”

Tony huffs, turning his attention back to his screens. 

“After her father’s death, she goes dark for a couple of years. No public appearances, no sightings—nothing. Coincidentally, around the same time, reports start cropping up about a new leader rising within one of the East Coast’s major crime families. Descriptions of the leader consistently include one distinct detail: a golden mask, giving them the title–”

“Madame Masque,” Natasha finishes for him, her tone flat.  

“Bingo,” Tony confirms. “Over the years, she’s pulled off some pretty big moves. Arms deals, arson, major heists—she’s dangerous, Nat.”

There’s a shuffle of papers in the background, and Peter’s voice chimes in. 

“I don’t get it, Mr. Stark. If she was already rich, why turn to crime?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“It’s not always about money,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just about power and control.” 

A brief silence follows, the weight of her words sinking in. 

Tony’s expression darkens slightly, and even Peter doesn’t offer a rebuttal. They all know Natasha is right. 

People like Whitney thrive on domination, bending others to their will. 

Natasha’s frown deepens, her thoughts drifting back to the night before—the memory of you leaving with Whitney still fresh and raw. She exhales slowly, the sting of hurt in her chest flaring again, though she pushes it down. 

Suddenly, Tony’s voice cuts through the quiet. 

“Okay, I can’t ignore this anymore. What are you doing?” 

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion as she glances at the screen. “What do you mean?”

Tony leans closer to the camera, pointing a finger at her with exaggerated disbelief.

“Why are you bottle-feeding that cat like it’s a baby?”

Natasha pulls Widow closer, cradling the tiny feline protectively against her chest. In her free hand, she holds a small baby bottle filled with water, offering it near the cat’s mouth. 

“She still won’t eat complete meals,” Natasha explains defensively. “At least this way, she’s staying hydrated.” 

Widow lets out a faint, sad meow, turning away from the bottle and burrowing deeper into Natasha’s arm. 

Natasha sighs softly, her expression tinged with disappointment as she looks down at the cat.

Peter’s voice pipes up from off-screen. 

“Miss Romanoff, I could go pick up some different kinds of cat food if you’d like?”

Before Natasha can respond, Tony waves him off. 

“Great idea, kid. Take my card and have at it.”

“Awesome,” Peter replies, his excitement evident as he disappears from view. 

As soon as Peter is gone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Was that really a good idea?”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” 

“So, what is it?” Natasha asks knowingly. She can tell Tony got rid of Peter so that he would not hear whatever it is Tony was holding back. 

“Some tough love,” he says bluntly, his relaxed demeanor shifting into something more serious. He leans forward, fixing her with a pointed look. “Look, Nat, if your friend is running with people like Whitney Frost, you might need to face the facts.”

“Which are?” Natasha’s tone grows colder, her jaw tightening.

“She’s a criminal,” Tony states flatly, the words landing like a stone.

Natasha’s frown deepens, the label grating against her as she reflexively clutches Widow a little tighter. “And?” 

Tony sighs, shaking his head as if she’s missing the obvious. 

“You need to start treating her like one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow. 

“Did you forget I used to be an assassin?” she counters, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“And now you’re an Avenger,” Tony fires back without missing a beat. “Not everyone’s like you, Nat. Not everyone wants to change.” 

The silence stretches between them, tension simmering as Natasha processes his words.  

Seeing her still hesitant to accept the fact, he adds softly, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t even want it.”

Natasha frowns, her eyes drifting down to the little cat in her arms. She strokes her fur delicately, and Widow returns a faint purr in response, though she still refuses to move much more than that. 

“Send me everything you have on Whitney and Madame Masque,” Natasha says, her determination resolving. 

She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

Tony studies her for a moment, his expression knowing before he sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“Already done.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A deep sigh escapes Natasha as she rubs her tired eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The hours have stretched into the late night, a glance at the window and then at the clock on her tablet confirming just how much time has passed.

Beside her on the couch, Widow is curled into a small ball, her tiny body seeming to shrink further with every passing moment. 

The meal Natasha had prepared for her earlier sits barely touched—a few nibbles at best.

Though, in her tired mind, Natasha can’t help but let a stray thought creep in: maybe her cooking is bad enough to deter a cat. 

The self-deprecating humor makes her sigh again, a sure sign of just how drained she feels. 

Setting the tablet on the table, Natasha leans back against the armrest of the couch, her head tilting to rest against the cushion. She raises an arm to cover her eyes, allowing herself just a brief reprieve, not planning to sleep but needing the darkness to ease the strain from hours of research. 

For a while, the silence wraps around her like a blanket. 

Natasha focuses on her breathing, the steady rise and fall helping her ground herself. 

Eventually, she debates whether she has it in her to dive back into her work for the night when a sudden movement shifts at her side. 

Tiny paws pad up her torso, and then a soft weight settles against her stomach.

A familiar, distinct meow breaks the quiet—a chirping, happy sound Natasha hasn’t heard from Widow in days. 

She freezes, her body going rigid as suspicion blooms in her chest. Breathing slowly, Natasha tries to maintain her sleeping position so as not to give herself away.

Widow’s sudden shift in mood—it could only mean one thing.

“I know you’re awake,” your voice cuts through the stillness, warm and teasing from just above her.

Realizing she’s caught, Natasha exhales softly with a mix of both relief at your presence but also mild frustration at the fact that you were able to sneak up on her again. 

She removes her arm from her eyes, blinking up to meet your gaze.

You’re leaning casually against the back of the couch, your head tilted and resting atop the cushion, a small smirk on your lips. 

“It’s way too early for you to have fallen asleep,” you tease lightly, your voice carrying that familiar playful lilt. 

Your attention shifts to Widow, who’s now eagerly leaning against the cushion to lick at your outstretched hand. 

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” you coo, your tone softening as you address the little cat.

Widow chirps again, louder this time, in agreement and nuzzles against your hand with obvious affection. 

Natasha can’t help but scoff, shaking her head at the way the two of you seem to operate as a perfect team.

Carefully, she sits up, trying not to disturb Widow perched atop her. 

However, the movement brings her face unintentionally close to yours. She stills as she realizes the proximity, her lips parting slightly as the quip she intended to deliver gets caught in her throat. 

Instead, all that escapes is a soft exhale. 

Your smirk falters, replaced by a small, almost sad smile. Your eyes search hers, lingering as if you can see something more beyond her carefully maintained exterior. 

The intensity of the moment steals Natasha’s breath, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. 

Breaking the tension, you lift a hand into view, holding up a bag of takeout containers.

“I brought dinner,” you say softly, the warmth in your tone cutting through the charged silence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits cross-legged on the couch, a takeout box resting limply on her lap as her attention drifts away from the half-eaten meal inside. 

Instead, her gaze falls on the two of you. 

You’re seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, also cross-legged, with Widow nestled comfortably in your lap. 

The little cat looks more content than she has in days, her tiny paws resting on the edge of the table as she eagerly eats the torn-up pieces of meat you prepared for her. 

A wave of relief washes over Natasha at the sight of Widow eating normally again, her movements lively and natural. It eases the knot of worry that’s been sitting in her chest, but as always, her focus inevitably drifts to you. 

It’s a pull she can’t resist, her gaze lingering on the subtle details in your expression, the quiet ease with which you handle the moment. 

Natasha absently stirs the noodles in her box, her mind turning over the question she’s been holding back since you arrived. It gnaws at her, but finding the right way to ask feels like navigating a minefield.

“How…” she begins, her voice hesitant, but the words falter. 

Natasha bites her lip, uncertain whether she has the right to pry into your life any deeper. 

You glance up at her, catching on to the unfinished question. Setting your takeout container on the table, you tilt your head slightly, offering her an easy opening. 

“How am I here?” you ask knowingly, your voice gentle.

Wordlessly, Natasha nods, grateful but wary of the answer.

“You didn’t look at the USB?” you ask, a touch of curiosity in your tone. 

Natasha shakes her head. 

“I was busy worrying about more pressing matters,” she says, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Widow, who’s still munching happily in your lap. “And anyway, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to have it in the first place.” 

You huff lightly at her words, and with an amused shake of your head, you turn Widow to face you, your fingers gently scratching behind her ears. 

“You were supposed to give it to her,” you chide playfully. 

Widow lets out a small, sassy meow, as if to argue her point, and then wiggles free from your grasp. 

Natasha watches with mild curiosity as the little cat pads over to the side table, where the USB has sat untouched for days. Widow grabs the small device in her mouth and trots back toward Natasha. 

Stopping at her side, Widow drops the USB onto Natasha’s lap with a decisive plop before looking up at her with a smug little chirp, her tail swishing behind her. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile as she picks up the USB. 

“Thank you,” she remarks dryly, her tone soft but teasing.

Widow lets out a pleased meow, circling once before hopping back into your lap, her little body nestling comfortably against you. 

Natasha’s gaze shifts to the USB, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully, before lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“So,” she says, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity, “what exactly am I going to find on here?” 

You glance down at Widow, stroking her head absently as you answer, your voice steady but carrying an undertone of something more. 

“Whitney had a scheduled meeting out of state with some buyers tonight.” 

At the mention of the other woman, Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines. 

“So this is…?”

“Everything you need to finish your original mission,” you reply evenly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “The buyers’ identities, their locations, the details of each weapons deal. Enough to track them down and stop the weapons from being used in the wrong hands.” 

Natasha studies you closely, her sharp instinct catching on to the underlying reason for your sudden assistance in her original mission. 

“To shift my attention from Whitney.” 

Your silence at her pointed remark is telling. 

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, the unspoken truth hanging between you. She tilts her head, her voice firmer now. 

“Why are you protecting her?” 

You flinch slightly at the accusation, your hand pausing mid-stroke on Widow’s fur. After a moment, you let out a sigh, your gaze drifting downward. 

“You know, it wasn’t always like this between us,” you say quietly. 

Natasha stays silent, letting you continue.

“Her dad—her real dad—was the original leader of the organization,” you explain, your voice tinged with something softer, almost nostalgic. “I met her when she was training to take over his position. Or, rather, she found me. I was just a simple thief back then. But not to her.”

You pause, your hand resuming its slow strokes over Widow’s fur as you collect your thoughts. 

“She made me an offer—something I never expected. Another opportunity for my life. To join her. She saw something in me. Something…more.”

The words hang in the air, and Natasha feels a pang of understanding, recalling her own experience from the past. 

“It felt good,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having someone look at you like that, like you’re worth something. Like you could be more than you ever thought of yourself.” 

You let out a soft, bitter chuckle. 

“She’s always been good at that. Making you feel special. Like you’re the only one who matters.” 

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly, her arms folding across her chest as she listens. She doesn’t interrupt, sensing the weight behind your words.

“No matter what she did—how far she went—I always found a way to forgive her,” you continue, your tone darkening. “Until I couldn’t anymore.” 

There’s a long pause, the quiet broken only by the faint sounds of Widow’s contented purring. Finally, you lift your gaze to Natasha’s, the vulnerability in your eyes stark, unguarded, and disarming.

“And then I met you,” you say softly, your voice carrying a bittersweet edge. “And for a while, I felt that same thing again. That feeling from the beginning—when it was just lighthearted, fun, and flirty, intoxicating even.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her chest tightening at the quiet admission. The honesty in your words cuts through the usual banter and teasing, leaving her unsure how to respond.

“But I already know how this ends,” you add, your voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’ve seen it before. And I can’t…” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, the words left unfinished. 

Natasha watches you closely, her sharp gaze softening despite the weight of your rejection. She leans forward, her voice low but steady in understanding. 

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.” 

Her tone shifts, gaining a quiet intensity and insistence.

“But you don’t need to stay with her either. We can figure out a way to disengage the bomb without you returning to her. A way to keep you both safe.”

Your gaze lowers, regret flickering in your expression. When you finally speak, your voice is heavy with sorrow.

“I have to go back.”

Natasha’s lips part in protest, her brows knitting together in frustration, but before she can speak, you cut her off, your tone firmer now.

“Not because of the bomb,” you clarify. “But because of what I did to her.”

You rise slowly, retrieving the tablet from the table, its screen still displaying the research Tony sent on Whitney. Sensing the shift, Widow hops into Natasha’s lap, purring softly as Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself.

Sitting down beside her, you scroll through the files until you find what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you turn the screen toward her. 

Natasha scans the report, her frown deepening with each line. 

It details a failed raid on a Stark Industries facility, ending in a catastrophic explosion. Operatives were killed or gravely injured. Their leader, however, was not discovered among those found.

“I abandoned her that night,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “None of that would have happened if I had stayed.” 

“You don’t know that,” Natasha counters firmly, her gaze snapping to yours, her hand reaching out instinctively to rest atop yours.

A faint, sad smile tugs at your lips at her touch, and you shake your head slightly.

“I appreciate the thought,” you reply, your voice tinged with bittersweet humor, “but we both know that’s not true—especially considering how I’ve managed to sneak past Stark’s defenses twice now without any problems.”

The smirk you add at the end is small, almost fleeting, but it carries a sting of truth that Natasha can’t ignore.

You’re exceptionally skilled. She can’t deny that.

Your fingers brush hers lightly, tracing the bandages covering her knuckles. A contemplative sadness crosses your face.

Then slowly, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft, almost apologetic kiss against her skin before lowering it back onto Widow’s fur.

“I’m not innocent here, Natasha,” you continue resolutely, your voice low, as if the words are for you as much as for her. “I never was.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens at your words, but she doesn’t interrupt as you continue. 

“I owe her a lot,” you admit, your voice heavy with the weight of your past. “She gave me a chance when no one else did. She saw something in me that I couldn’t. And yet…” Your voice falters slightly, but you press on.  

“I still betrayed her in the end.”

Your gaze shifts to Natasha, your eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that makes her chest ache. 

“You deserve more than to wait for me to eventually do the same to you,” you say softly. “More than I already have.” 

Natasha’s chest tightens, the quiet ache spreading as she watches you, her gaze taking in every flicker of pain and regret etched across your features.

But this time, it’s not sadness that rises within her—it’s anger. Not at you, but at everything else.

At Whitney, for manipulating you. At the circumstances that have pushed you to this breaking point. And most of all, at the invisible chains of guilt that hold you hostage, preventing you from seeing a way out.

Her hands twitch, the urge to reach for you almost overwhelming. She wants to close the distance between you, to grasp your shoulders and shake you free from the weight of your past, to tell you that this isn’t your only option.

But she hesitates, her fingers curling into fists as she forces herself to stop.

Forcing you to accept her help, no matter how badly she wants to, would make her no different from Whitney. It would just be another form of control, another pressure you don’t deserve.

And Natasha refuses to become that.

Instead, after a long pause, she speaks with quiet determination.

“What will happen to Widow?” 

You look down at the small cat, curled up peacefully in Natasha’s lap, and sigh. 

“I can’t bring her back with me,” you admit, your voice thick with regret. “But I’ll stay with her as long as I can tonight. Make sure she’s okay, and I’ll explain it to her—let her think it’s like last time, when she stayed with you while I was away.” 

You glance at Natasha, searching for her response. 

“If…you’re still willing to take care of her?”

Natasha straightens slightly, her expression softening as a small smirk forms on her lips.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Your lips twitch into a faint smile at her answer, gratitude flickering in your eyes. 

But Natasha isn’t done. She leans forward, her tone resolute as her gaze locks onto yours.

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself,” she says, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “If you feel guilty about what you’ve done, you can always make it right for yourself. You still have that choice.” 

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, an unspoken plea woven into her steady tone. 

Natasha’s expression holds no judgment, only quiet insistence and something deeper—hope.

The silence that follows feels fragile, as if it could shatter at the wrong move. 

Widow shifts slightly in her lap, her tiny body curling closer as her soft purring fills the space between you. 

It’s a faint sound, but comforting nonetheless, grounding you in a moment that feels far too heavy for words.

For a fleeting second, Natasha sees something in your eyes—an almost imperceptible flicker, as if her words might be reaching you. 

But then your gaze drops, breaking the connection, and the moment slips away. 

Without a word, you gently lift Widow from her lap, cradling her with the same care Natasha has come to associate with you, and rise to your feet. 

Natasha sits up a little straighter, her sharp eyes following your movements as you step toward the hallway, your figure outlined by the dim glow of the room.

“Try to get some rest, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone steady but carrying a subtle finality that roots her in place. You pause just before disappearing from sight, your head turning slightly as if debating whether to say more.

“You, out of everyone, deserve it.” 

The words linger in the air long after you’ve gone into your bedroom, wrapping around Natasha like a quiet echo. 

She stays where she is, her fingers drifting absentmindedly over the fabric of the couch where you’d been sitting just moments ago, as if tracing the memory of you.

The warmth of your presence is gone, replaced by an emptiness that spreads through the room, making it feel colder, quieter. 

Natasha exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch and staring at the space where you had disappeared from her view. 

She knows you meant those words for her, but the ache in her chest tells her they’re something you’ve denied yourself for far too long. 

“So do you,” she whispers into the empty room, her voice barely audible but filled with a longing that she knows you’ll never let yourself hear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: Fair warning, I believe there’s only a couple parts left in this series. But don’t quote me on this cause we all know I’ve never been good at predicting the number of chapters left. Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat, @escapereality4music, @caspianalexander007, @henkermen, @xxnaiaxx, @alyssa-bessse, @alianovnasposts

[valer1esgallery]

Mammon head cannons

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like mammon is totally prone to night terrors about loosing you and his brothers, normally waking up in a cold sweat. After literally having you head in his arms, he is horrified that it will happen again. While in bed, he will grip you tightly in his sleep, almost scared you will disappear again. Once awoken from one of these night terrors, he will stay in bed with you, head buried in your shoulder while his hand rests over your heart, or silently get out of bed and check on everyone. He hates seeing his family hurt.

Why do I feel like he has a split tounge. He got it medically done a couple hundred years ago and he thinks its a cool party trick. When asked if he would ever do it again, he says he would but in reality, he would probably never do it again. The healing process sucked, his tounge aching and in alot of pain while it healed, not being able to eat solid food for a while, having a constant headache, he wouldn't do it again.

Loves to have matching items with you <3 Weather it be a phone case, small rings, earrings, a necklace, loom band bracelets, outfits, nails, whatever. He loves matching with you though he never admits it was his idea. He HIGHLEY hinted at it until you said it first, which he agreed to almost immediately after abit of talking.

Is like a puppy whenever your up in the human world, sighing and laying around while he waits for you in his free time. He still goes to RAD, gamble, cause trouble, but whenever he has time to himself or doesn't have to focus on more things, your swarming his head. So happy once your back in devildom

So many rings, either got the idea from Asmodeus or it was trendy ages ago and it stuck with him forever. He has both silver and gold rings on almost all fingers, though he has once small home-made ring made from the handle of a spoon that you made him that he always keeps on his ring finger. Don't look into it too much human!

He loves seeing his pact mark on you, it gives him a small comfort. His mark is right on your left wrist, its easy to spot but also easy to hide. He enjoys just tracing it while you both are studying, doing it absent mindedly while he slightly zones out. If you mention it, he will blush deeply and move away, flustered while denying ever doing it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry this was short, my first post on this account! What would you guys like to see next?

[tetragonia]

Let It Roll

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

JJ Maybank would give anything, but he won't give up on you. He'd say anything, but not good bye.

warning: uh, angst? they're fighting.

note: I took the title and the summary from Train's song, Let It Roll and Words. would be nice if you take a listen!

words: 1.5k

It had started weeks ago, small things piling up like the sand that collects on a boat until it makes everything feel heavier. JJ had been distant, disappearing without a word and dodging questions when he came back. You’d catch him staring off into the distance, his jaw set, shoulders tense, but whenever you’d ask what was going on, he’d just brush it off with a laugh or say something evasive.

At first, you tried to be understanding. JJ wasn’t the kind of person to open up easily, and you knew he had a lot on his shoulders—too much, really, for someone so young. But as days passed and he kept pulling further away, the frustration grew.

You’d text him, and hours would pass before he’d reply with something vague. You’d make plans, and he’d show up late or sometimes not at all, leaving you with the sense that he was slipping through your fingers, like sand you couldn’t hold onto.

Tonight was supposed to be different. He’d promised to meet you by the docks after sundown, a plan he’d made himself. You were excited, even hopeful, thinking this would be the night he’d finally open up about whatever was weighing on him. But as the sun sank and the stars filled the sky, there was still no sign of JJ. An hour passed, and then another, until you were left alone, hurt gnawing at you as the breeze grew cold.

When he finally showed up, his face flushed and eyes stormy, he mumbled an apology. It was the same routine—vague promises that didn’t really ease the sting of waiting alone. You’d reached your limit, and suddenly, everything you’d been holding back came spilling out.

“You’re here now, but for how long, JJ?” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me in, to talk to me instead of shutting me out, but you keep disappearing. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“You’re always doing this, JJ,” you continued, your voice wavering as you tried to keep steady. “Pushing everyone away, saying it’s no big deal, that nothing gets to you—but it does. And I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you pull further and further away?”

JJ ran a hand through his hair, clearly taken aback. “Look, I’m doing my best here, okay? It’s not like you understand this life, this… mess.”

“Then make me understand,” you pleaded. “Tell me what’s going on. I want to help you, but I can’t if you keep pushing me away.”

He looked at you, his jaw clenched tight, and shook his head.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice rough. “You don’t get it. I’m not good at this—at… needing someone. I don’t know how to just talk it out, alright?”

You took a shaky breath, fighting the ache that had settled in your chest. “I don’t need you to be perfect, JJ. I just need you to be here. With me.”

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of everything was pressing down on him all at once. For a moment, he didn’t respond, and the silence between you grew heavy, filled with every unspoken word and missed moment.

"No, I... I can sort this alone."

"There you go again!" you were frustated.

He looked at you, his blue eyes clouded, jaw clenched. “I’m trying, alright? I don’t know how to—how to do this stuff like you do. You know me. I mess up, I get it. But you act like I’m not here, like you’re waiting for me to say it’s over so you don’t have to.”

The accusation stung, but maybe it was true. Maybe you had been waiting for him to let you go.

“I don’t know how to keep this going if it’s always going to feel like this, JJ. I don’t know if you even want me here. I can’t be the only one fighting for this.”

“I don’t want you to fight for it alone!” his voice broke as he took a step forward. “You think I don’t want you here? That I don’t think about you every second of every day? I’d give anything to fix this—anything, alright? Just not… just not this.”

“Not what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not goodbye,” he said, his voice softer now, but his tone stubborn, like he was digging his heels into the ground and refusing to budge. “I can’t say it. I won’t.”

Your heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions. You wanted to let go of the anger, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt.

“JJ, sometimes it’s not enough just to want something. We need… more. I need you to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on inside instead of just running off when things get hard.”

“I don’t run,” he shot back, his gaze steady and filled with something fierce. “I stay because of you. Because I don’t want to let you go. I know I’m not great at the talking part, but I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying to tell you that I’m not giving up, even if you think I should.”

Your eyes stung, and you blinked back tears, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. You wanted so badly to believe him, to trust that he wouldn’t push you away again, but it was hard. You’d been here before—on the edge of leaving, only to be pulled back in by the sheer force of your feelings for him.

He took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I’ll say anything you need me to say, do whatever it takes to make this right,” he murmured, his voice softer now, pleading. “But I won’t say goodbye. Not to you.”

There was a desperation in his words, a crack in the armor he always wore. JJ was staring at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the ground, his face tense and unguarded. It was rare for him to let you see him like this—raw, unfiltered, his defenses dropped.

Slowly, you reached out, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining with his as you tried to breathe through the ache in your chest. You didn’t have the strength to walk away from him, not when he was looking at you with that fierce determination, like he’d rather burn than let you slip away.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, either,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, the silence wrapped around you both. He brought your hand to his chest, letting you feel the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

“Then don’t,” he said softly. “We can figure this out, I promise. I just… I need you to believe in me. In us.”

The air was heavy, filled with unspoken promises, but as you looked at him, really looked at him, you could see it: the way his gaze softened, the way he was holding on to you like you were his lifeline.

Slowly, you nodded, squeezing his hand. You didn’t have the answers, and maybe neither did he. But for now, you were both here, grounded by the weight of everything you’d fought through to get to this moment. And it was enough.

As you stood there together, the tension between you faded into something warmer, something hopeful. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but you knew he was right — you weren’t ready to say goodbye, either. Not tonight. Not yet.

[deathbxnny]

Hi

Can I request a jinx x fem reader with abandonment issues that only grew stronger with jinx disappearing after silco death

(Sorry if that was long it’s my first time requesting :))

Please don't leave me. | Jinx x Fem!Reader

Hey there, dear Anon!! I absolutely love your request, and dw, it isn't long at all! Thank you for your great ask, and I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Heavy angst, abandonment issues, unhinged Jinx, grief, hurt/kinda comfort?, established romantic relationships, spoilers for season 2, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

One day, she was there with you at your side, cuddling you to sleep whilst she promised to be back soon from a mission. And the next, she was gone for good, far away somewhere to escape her adoptive father's murder, including you, it seemed.

In a way, you weren't all too surprised by it, considering how her episodes were. Yes, it drove you mad to be apart from her for more than a couple of hours. But you were used to it and told yourself that she'd be back for you eventually. You two had an unreadable bond. You were always her "pretty girl" since she first met you. Would it be dramatic to say that it was maybe even love at first sight? It never was to her, at least. She always was the one to claim that you were made for eachother.

Yet now you wondered if it was all a simple lie. Or maybe she had forgotten all about you in the heat of the moment, the panic drowning out any emotion she had for you. And you stopped thinking about it about three months into her disappearance, hoping that acceptance would set you free from the exhausting cycle of fear and depression you were in.

How were you even functioning without her anymore? The answer to it was "not at all", but even that was too simple. Jinx had abandoned you. She had done the one thing she swore she'd never do because she out of all people would understand how much that hurt. How much it messed with one's soul and body. Every second without her tormented you, and you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't enough for her to at least take you along to wherever she went. You would've followed her to the end of the world if it meant not ending up alone like this anymore.

You were going crazy and it only solidified when one night you found yourself waking up to the image of her laying on her side in your once shared bed, those magenta eyes glowing in the darkness of your room. You had imagined this moment plenty of times before in many different ways. In some daydreams, you scream at her in anger for abandoning you, and in others, you simply ignore her and turn away, just like she had with you. Neither of those things happened, and instead, you burst into tears and practically jumped onto her.

You asked her for an explanation. You asked her why she abandoned you. You asked her if she still loved you. But all she did was soothe you as you cried and sobbed, her hand carefully rubbing your back up and down with a newfound softness she had never had before. Whatever she experienced in her absence must've changed something in her. You could feel it deep down. The way her soul seemed lighter and calmer. But your anger for just leaving you like this didn't subside, even when you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to an empty bed, though, and that confirmed that you must've been hallucinating... until you notice a small note on your nightstand detailing her return in a couple of days. She hadn't forgotten you after all. She had come to find you despite her grief and tribulations.

And that made you smile weakly for the first time in months as her love finally seeped in again, even from afar.

[glitteringdust]

Lucanis and Spite's reaction to Rook being trapped in the Regret prison, or, if someone already asked that, romanced Lucanis having to tell Viago (massive older brother vibes) that Crow!Rook is stuck in the Regret prison

Standing in the entrance of Rook's room, Lucanis closes his eyes.

For a moment, he swears he feels her right there— sitting on the couch, curled over her notebook making a sketch of something she couldn't get out of her head.

The room still smells of cinnamon spice from the incense she always had burning on the far dresser. Her clothes would be everywhere, along with loose notes and bits of potion ingredients scattered about.The fade window of swimming fish would remind him of the Ossuary like it always did— sending a sour storm of adrenaline straight to his chest. Only by Rook's sweet face murmuring soft reassurances would he return to the present, back in her presence.

The moment passes and he knows what he will see when he opens his eyes. Nothing is as it should be.

Rook is gone. Gone. Betrayed by Solas.

Spite bristles along his spine at the thought. Lucanis clenches a fist as he battles the demon's anger as well as his own. For once, they were both equally powerless to rescue her.

We find her. We find Rook.

Spite was angry more than anything else, bleeding into Lucanis' every thought. He wanted revenge, action… something to stab and kill and as far as the demon was concerned the team was doing nothing at all.

But they had no choice, so all they could do was bide their time, recoup their resources and figure out a plan to find Rook.

—

In the fleeting moments he's able to close his eyes and sleep, he still sees the flash of light in his dreams. A bright flash, Rook's horrified voice shouting his name, and then nothing. It was unnerving, seeing it over and over again. Spite seemed almost as incapacitated by the dreams as Lucanis was.

Emmrich once said spirits could experience intense mood shifts during stress, perhaps that was the reason why he kept bringing Lucanis' sleeping body to Rook's room. To feel better.

She always made things better.

Ever since she disappeared, everything around them had dampened. Colors, taste… all of it was muffled without her around. Was she even alive? How could they know? They killed one god, and faced two more. Who could say she hadn’t been vaporized by Solas?

No. I feel her.

“You feel her because this is her room, Spite. You don't know that she lives.”

You give up?

"Never. Not until I see her body."

There's a feeling of approval. Never again lose what's ours.

He should leave her room, if he plans to get anything done today. He needs to travel to Treviso still, update Teia and Viago about Rook. He'd already waited a week too long. He knows the conversation might end up with Viago trying to kill him, but they needed to know. They were her only other family, after all. As he turns to go, he spots a loose piece of paper peeking out from under the couch. Spite urges him to pick it up, stronger than ever.

It's a sketch of himself, outlined in purple. Underneath, the words vhenan as well as the following:

“Say it, before it's too late.”

He thinks to the night before she disappeared, how she'd come for their usual evening drink but was preoccupied. Nervous. Surely she was just anxious about the next day's events, but instead….

She loves him.

He told her not to make a promise she couldn't keep, yet here he was having broken the last half of his. He didn't keep her safe that day.

Should she not return, every blighted creature would feel his blade.

[annie-writesstuff]

Come here, kitty, kitty! - Sylus (Part 2)

Summary: The curse of the Evol cats wears off. Majority of it, at least. Sylus finds himself in his 'human' form. However, your reaction is not what he expected. He thinks you're one of the most interesting persons he has ever met.

Warnings: None. Fluff. I really think Sylus is a green flag. Man is guarded, but when he opens up he's a softie. Tall, dark and handsome lol. He is whipped. It turned kinda angsty (sowwy). Slight - perhaps - spoiler/theory about his past if you squint.

Also, thank you to everyone who read part one! I am truly happy that so many of you enjoyed it!

And thank you to the Anon that messaged me! I am truly happy you loved the story! Thank you!

You can read PART 1 here!

The sun filters through your broken blinds. You scrunch your nose, eyelids fluttering until they fully open. Your [e/c] eyes meet your old wooden ceiling. A yawn leaves your lips as you stretch.

"Good morning."

"Morning!" You chirp reflexively, yawning once again.

Wait.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Sylus smirks, wondering if your half asleep brain has finally caught up on what is going on.

"Um..." You stutter, tugging the blanket closer to you. "Hi..?"

The smirk disappears from his face at your tame reaction. Every time he thinks he's got you figured out, you surprise him.

You should've been screaming, trying to get away from him, hurling objects in his direction.

Instead you're looking at him with more curiosity than shock.

"Red?"

He meets your eyes, and nods. "You don't seem surprised."

"I am!" You assure. "It's just... I don't know how to react. I mean... You looked so familiar. And when I looked into your eyes... I realized you were my little kitty."

"Your little kitty?"

A little flustered, you hurry to correct yourself. "I mean... the... the kitty..."

Rising his hand, he stops you. "Now, I do not like owing people. But you took me in and fed me. So thank you, kitten. Name your price."

Eh? A bit flabbergasted, you stare at him. "P... price?"

"Yes."

Honestly, you just want one thing. "Can I pet your ears?"

Pet his ears... is that what you want? Well, who is he to deny such request?

Rather than giving his verbal approval, Sylus leans down, so that you can reach the twitching ears atop his head.

He is a bit uneasy when your hand first makes contact with one of his ears, but he realizes that, just like yesterday, you're being careful and mindful. His ears are sensitive, but the way you're caressing them feels tolerable nice.

"You're a cute big cat." You smile, switching your attention to his other ear.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips as he leans into your touch, a lot more instinctively than consciously.

"If you tell anyone about this, there will be consequences."

You can't help but giggle, solemnly nodding. "Nobody will know."

He nodded, satisfied, and once you have had your fill, he moves away.

"Can I have your name?"

Normally, he wouldn't reveal his identity. However, because he is almost one hundred percent sure you don't know who he is, he complies.

"Sylus."

"How can I get you back home, Sylus?"

"I'd need to borrow your phone, kitten."

You nod, and without an ounce of hesitation, hand him your device, which had charged during the night.

Sylus uses the special code from the unknown number to contact the twins, which soon reply that they will be on their way shortly.

They don't press for any answers when he asks them to bring him a change of clothes.

Good. He is not in the mood to be answering anything.

At around an hour later, he has changed into his suit, and he walks out of your small bathroom, buttoning his dress shirt at the wrist.

"Thank you again for your... hospitality." He reiterates.

You nod, offering some water bottles to the masked individuals that came to pick up the 'boss', as they've called him.

"I hope to see you again, Sylus." You say softly, walking him to the door.

The taller male hesitates for one second, before looking down at you. "I look forward to it, kitten." He says.

This isn't going to be the last time you see him.

He's going to make sure of it.

Once he is back in his penthouse on N109 zone, Sylus can't help but feel bored.

His eyes darken as Mephisto updates him on your whereabouts. He clicks his tongue, expertly maneuvering a golden bullet with his fingers.

Money and power can give him anything he wants.

Except that the one thing he wants is priceless.

His Evol turns to dust the bullet in his hand as he decides his course of action.

Sylus has always found humans interesting, but you... are a complete enigma.

He wants to know every little detail. What makes you smile, what makes you sad. What ticks you, what excites you.

He wants things to go organically. The two of you have a bond, already, and he would never force you into anything, but he's quite sure that you're also thinking about him.

Fate... is cruel.

But it is wise.

You have found each other, and he firmly belives there is a reason why.

Maybe in this life, there is a hope for happiness for him.

[moonlightwonu]

부승관 // Boo Seungkwan Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

널 외롭게 두지 않을게 처음의 마음을 널 위해 지킬게~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“Starlight Eyes” by @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Fem!reader || idol au, fluff, angst, Seungkwan-centric || W.C: 14k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The past months together were supposed to be his way of forming a connection with you that would allow you to see him in a romantic manner like you had started to with Seungcheol last year. But it seemed it had just made Seungkwan's feelings burn brighter and his crush turn into something more.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Briefly Orange” by @wondernus

Summer au, friends to lovers, magical realism, slowburn, angst, romance, slice of life || W.C: 32k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Fragmentary source of healing and like an oasis away from the city, for his group of friends, Boo Seungkwan’s family farm is a regular vacation destination away from the city. Yet Seungkwan wishes for anything but a future filled with mountains of oranges, his dream of living in the city still ineffaceable in his head. When he receives a request from a friend he fell out of touch with asking if they could stay on his farm for the summer, Seungkwan finally finds himself in an opportunistic place in which his dream can finally become a reality. Why? Because you’re cursed to have everything you love disappear. Sweltering heat and an eventful summer, magic touches lives in ways that we can never imagine. But in this transition between seasons, we find ourselves asking: when loss is as transient as the lives we live, what does it mean to love with every fiber of our being?

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“The Beach House” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Fem!reader || one bed trope, enemies to lovers, comedy, angst, romance, slowburn || W.C: 9.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Maybe Vernon made a mistake by inviting both you and Seungkwan to the beach house, or maybe he was smarter than the two of you combined.

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“Once Upon A Summer” by @the-boy-meets-evil

Fem!reader || 90s au, summer love, fluff, angst || W.C: 8.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for vacation and you’re married to this town. 

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“It Isn’t You” by @simpxxstan

Fem!reader || single mom au, fluff, angst || W.C: 8.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you're ready to begin a completely new life in seoul, away from your ex-husband and your baggage of regrets. but fate has different plans for you when you meet seungkwan again, and this time, you don't want to let go.

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“When I Grow Up” by @wooahaes

Gn!reader || childhood friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst || W.C: 12.3k

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“Strawberry Jazz; Love On The Train To Tokyo” by @idyllic-ghost

Neighbour au, strangers to lovers, fluff, romance || W.C: 9.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･In an attempt to let go of your past, you travel to a new city and pretend to be a new person. On the train to Tokyo, you meet a handsome stranger but miss the opportunity to get his name and number before you part ways. Lucky for you, your fates seem to be intertwined as you meet again just a few hours later.

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“1-800-CUPID” by @drunk-on-dk

Fem!reader || friends to lovers, slice of life, fluff, romance, smut || W.C: 7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Nothing could have ever prepared you to reunite with Boo Seungkwan over a desperate, wine-induced call to 1-800-CUPID late one night. Seungkwan was always known for being a jack-of-all-trades and meddler during your time spent as his friend at university, so hearing his cherubic voice over the love advice hotline wasn’t so shocking. Fortunately for you, Seungkwan’s sprite attitude is exactly what you need in your post-grad, loveless life. However, what will you do when he begins to surpass what the hotline has to offer and meddles with your heart instead?

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“Like A Domino” by @sluttywoozi

Fem!reader || bartender au, pining, fluff, suggestive || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: ~12.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Seungkwan falls for you a bit more with every date you have. And by you, he means you and someone else. He’s just the bartender.

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“Guilty Pleasures” by @hannieween

[Series] || Fem!reader || childhood crush to lovers, fluff, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 24.5k (as of now) || Status: Ongoing

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Planning a wedding is not easy. It is one of the most difficult feats you had ever chosen to do. That and seeing Boo Seungkwan again. Seungkwan, the golden boy, the teacher's favourite. The person you had a stupid undying crush on.

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“As It Was” by @ssinboo

Fem!reader || fwb , smut || W.C: 5.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. At a ten-year class reunion, Seungkwan is looking forward to enact his long-term revenge plan. When it all comes crashing down, you're helping him pick himself up the only way you know how. or You and Seungkwan are occasional friends with benefits

⤷“We're No Good Alone” (Part 2 of As it Was)

Fem!reader || smut, angst || W.C: 5.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Seungkwan finds himself in a month long slump and you're recruited by his manager to help him get back on his feet. He finds your presence a lot more comforting than he'd be willing to admit. or You visit Seungkwan in Seoul and spent the weekend like you don't hate each other.

⤷“It's Always Been Us” (Part 3 of As it Was)

Fem!reader || romance, smut, fluff || W.C: 16.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･After your unplanned confession, you avoid Seungkwan until an unexpected issue brings you to contact him. When you finally get in touch, secrets are revealed.

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“Office Hours” by @seungkw1

Afab!reader || College au, smut, fluff || W.C: ~6.2k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Plan B” by @diamonddaze01

Fem!reader || Frenemies to lovers || W.C: 9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･it's just a stupid pact. what could possibly go wrong?

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“Caught On Camera” by @rubyreduji

Fem!reader || camstar au, roommates au, smut || W.C: 7.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･being a cam girl is great, that is is until you have to consider your roommate

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[leclarifies]

hi late night thoughts but

max would def be the type of boyfriend to touch, LIKE A LOT, like it doesn't even need to be sexual or for long periods of time. just a simple touch, maybe it's tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, or gently touching your waist when he needs to move past you, before landing a sneaky kiss in there for good measure.

or like i've had this scenario in my head for a good week now, but you're working from home, just clicking away at your laptop when he comes home, he clearly looks exhausted from whatever flight he's been on, and when he comes home and looks at you, the exhaustion disappear from his face bc look! it's his favorite person! he's finally home!!!!

he drops all of his thing and just comes to cuddle next to your side, not even caring that you have to do work bc he's now with his favorite person ever and that's all he cares about. the longer you continue to work, the sleepier he gets, he can't tell if it's from the flight and the jet lag or because being in your presence just makes him calmer and sleepier. the soft tapping of your nails against the keyboard makes it even more relaxing, just some white noise to tune all of his thoughts about the next race and what he should do tomorrow because he had a redline stream to take part in.

ur just his favorite person once you become his girlfriend!! like he's so soft and mushy about you too, even though he's a relatively private person, and he refuses to talk about you in public bc he's scared that you're going to get affected by what they say, his close friends listens to how much he yaps about you, sometimes they roll their eyes playfully bc there max goes again talking about his girlfriend!!!!! cz once he's in love, he's IN LOVE.

AH I CANT MY DELUSIONAL ASS CAN'T TAKE THESE LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS!!!!!

[sophrosynesworld]

The Night Shift (Pt. 8)

Life has never been fair. You know that better than most. It’s a truth that clung to you like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. You used to think about it a lot as a child, lying awake in bed, staring at a cracked ceiling that never seemed to get fixed. It wasn’t fair when you got third place in the science fair, despite the sleepless nights spent perfecting your baking soda volcano. You can still feel the heat of frustration rising to your cheeks when the judges smiled that polite, disinterested smile, their eyes skimming over your work like it wasn’t worth a second glance. They didn’t even wait for the "eruption."

And then there were the birthdays. The other kids got balloons and cake, their homes filled with laughter and the warm glow of candles. You got cold training rooms and grueling exercises. You can still feel the ache in your muscles, the sting of bruises on your skin as you stumbled through yet another drill.

“It’s for your future,” they’d say, though no one ever explained what that future would look like. At some point, you stopped asking. Stopped hoping.

Fairness, you realized, was a privilege reserved for other people. The ones who didn’t live under the weight of unspoken expectations. The ones who weren’t told to endure and obey, to carry the weight of a destiny they didn’t choose. You learned early that no one was going to fight for you, so you had to fight for yourself—or at least survive long enough to figure out how.

Maybe, somewhere in another life, another version of you is blowing out candles on a birthday cake, her biggest worry whether she’ll get a bicycle or a dollhouse.

But the first time you realized how unfair life could be—really, truly unfair—you were only eight. Mrs. Carter was at the front of the room, talking about metaphors, or maybe similes. You weren’t paying much attention, staring out the window like usual.

Then she collapsed.

You can still hear the sound of her body hitting the floor, the awful thud of it. At first, you thought she’d tripped. But then you saw her face—twisted, pale, her hand clutching her chest like she was trying to keep something inside from breaking free.

The room exploded into chaos. Desks screeched as kids shoved their chairs back. Someone screamed. A few bolted for the door. You just sat there, frozen, watching. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, and all we could hear was her gasping—sharp, shallow, desperate.

You remember thinking, someone has to help her. But no one moved. Not really. They were too scared, too shocked. And then the thought came again, louder this time. I have to help her.

Before you knew what you were doing, you were at her side. Knees hitting the floor hard enough to bruise, but no pain erupted. Or at least, you didn’t feel it. You couldn't feel anything except the pounding of your heart. You remember touching her arm, hands shaking so badly you weren’t sure you could keep them still. Her lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Then it happened.

As your skin touched hers, a sudden warmth surged through your chest, spreading like fire down your arms. A golden light began to spiral around you, vivid and alive, wrapping the two of you in its glow. Then, just like that, the panic and pain vanished. She went still, her breathing steadying as if a switch had been flipped.

What am I doing? Is this me?

Your eyes widen in awe and disbelief as her veins shimmered beneath her skin, glowing like threads of molten gold. The luminous trails weaving their way from the arm you were holding, disappearing under her sleeves and tracing an unseen path beneath her shirt to somewhere deeper within her body.

The rest is a blur. The door slammed open, teachers rushed in with everyone talking at once. Eventually, someone touches your arm, their grip firm but not unkind. You barely register the murmurs of reassurance as they guide you to your feet. Your legs move mechanically, as your head turns, eyes fixed on Mrs. Carter as they lift her onto a stretcher.

“Little lady,” a man with grey hair says, leaning down towards you. “I think you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

"Are you listening?"

The voice jolts you, snapping your attention back to the sterile room. Your eyes locking onto the source of the voice—a man in a white coat standing at the foot of your bed. Your abrupt movement causes him jump as well, nearly dropping his clipboard, which in turn knocks against a nurse's tray of IV medication. She scowls, steadying it with a sharp glare.

"I-" you croak, your voice raw as if you’ve swallowed shards of glass. You reach out instinctively, your trembling fingers brushing against the nurse's forearm. She pauses, then gently clasps your hand in hers.

"I need…" you rasp, the words catching in your throat.

“What is it?” the nurse asks, her tone softening despite the irritation that had lined her features a moment ago.

Your body lurches forward suddenly, a violent gag ripping through you. The nurse reacts swiftly, sliding a plastic tray under your chin just in time, but nothing comes up. Dry heaves rack your body, each one making your head throb harder, the pounding in your skull relentless.

“I need some Zofran,” you manage to plead between gasps, your body sagging back against the bed. Another dry retch claws its way up, leaving your stomach aching and hollow.

Dr. Kento Mori’s calm voice cuts through. “I already ordered it,” he says, stepping closer before turning to the nurse with a nod. “Go ahead and administer it.”

The nurse—Kumiko, if you remember correctly—gives your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before releasing it, busying herself with the IV line. Meanwhile, Dr. Mori pulls up a chair on the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable. Dozens of monitors surround you, their soft beeps counting out your pulse, your breathing, the rhythm of your existence.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently, his large, callused hand resting on your arm. Your brow furrows. How are you feeling? Everything aches—your head, your throat, your stomach—but it’s the stabbing pain in your chest that feels the worst.

“What happened?” you whisper. The question hangs in the air, as your mind races to fill in the gaps. Was I hurt?

Kento leans forward, clasping his hands together. "You collapsed during your shift," he begins, his eyes meeting yours. "Another visitor in the hospital found you unresponsive in the south hallway."

“I…” You try to form a coherent thought, but your mind spirals. How could I let this happen?

"You’ve been pushing yourself too hard," Dr. Mori continues, as if he could read your mind. “Your body couldn’t take it anymore. It’s not just exhaustion—it’s dehydration, malnutrition, and stress. You’re burning out.”

His words feel like accusations, even though you know they aren’t. You stare at the ceiling, your chest tightening. I’m supposed to be better than this. Stronger than this.

But lying here, tethered to machines and monitors, you can’t ignore the truth. Your body betrayed you, or maybe you betrayed it.

“When can I get back to work?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. They feel hollow, wrong somehow, but they’re all you can think to say. Kento's face tightens.

“Honestly,” he starts, then hesitates, clearing his throat like the words are hard to get out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

His eyes flick to the monitors beside you, the steady beeping growing louder, faster, like it’s keeping time with the unease building in your chest. His eyes return to yours, sharp but not unkind, and for a moment, you see the exhaustion behind it.

“Your heart is deteriorating,” he says bluntly. “And we don’t know yet if it’s connected to your quirk use or something else entirely.”

“So… what does that mean?” you manage, your voice small, even to your own ears.

“It means,” he says, folding his arms and leaning back into the chair, “that you’re on borrowed time until we figure this out. You need to stop using your quirk—at least until we can stabilize you. If you don’t…” He pauses, his jaw tightening as if forcing himself to say it aloud. “If you don’t, the damage could become irreversible.”

"But what if—what if someone needs me? What if—”

“No.” His voice is firm, cutting through your protest. “You’re not a hero. Your job is to survive.”

His words hit like a slap, and you look down at your hands, twisting the thin blanket on your lap. “I’m fine. I just—I just overdid it. I need some rest, I’ll be fine.” you whisper.

“You’ve been out for a bit,” he says gently, “longer than typical for causes of exhaustion.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours for something—understanding, maybe, or a hint that you’re taking this seriously. Leaning forward slightly, his tone steadies, quieter but insistent. “I’m going to do everything I can to figure this out. I promise.”

There’s a flicker of something in his copper iris—determination or maybe worry; you can't decide which. “But I need you to help me, okay? That means no overexertion. No stress. No—”

His words falter mid-sentence as the door bursts open, slamming against the wall. Before you can process what’s happening, two familiar figures rush in like a whirlwind.

“You’re awake!” Rina cries, her voice cracking with a mix of relief and excitement. Airi’s right behind her, her eyes glistening, but she says nothing as she dives forward.

The next second, they’re both on you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders in a bear hug that nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Careful!” the man protests, his voice sharp with concern as he jumps to his feet.

But Rina and Airi don’t seem to hear him—or, more likely, they don’t care. “Three weeks” Rina exclaims, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “Three weeks! Do you know how worried we were?!”

Airi sniffles, pulling back just enough to glare at you through watery eyes. “You’re never allowed to scare us like that again, got it?”

Your throat tightens, and the weight of their presence—of their relief, their worry, their sheer being here—makes your own eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your voice breaking.

Rina pulls back just enough to look at you, her brow furrowed in mock anger. “Damn right, you are.” Then she softens, a small, wobbly smile breaking through. “But I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Airi nods furiously, gripping your hand like she’ll never let go. “We thought…” Her voice wavers, and she doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to. The man clears his throat pointedly, and all three of you glance at him.

“As heartwarming as this is,” he says, his tone a mix of exasperation and understanding, “she’s still fragile. You can hug her later. For now, I need to finish up with this patient.”

Rina raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We are helping. Emotional support is part of healing.”

Airi nods, shooting him a defiant look. “Yeah. Don't act like we don't work here.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about patience, but doesn’t argue further. “Fine. But only if you let her rest after this.”

Rina and Airi exchange a glance, then reluctantly step back, though they don’t let go entirely. Their hands remain on the bed near you.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Airi asks, her voice trembling as her wide eyes dart between you and the doctor. "They wouldn’t tell us anything about what happened. No one would."

“I’m fine,” you interject quickly, forcing a smile to steady her. “Turns out I just overdid it. Nothing serious, right, Kento?” You glance at him, searching for backup.

“That’s right.” Kento offers a polite smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And, as you know, we’re not allowed to access employee medical records unless it's an assigned case.”

Rina crosses her arms, standing protectively beside Airi. “Doesn’t stop you from being all secretive, though,” she mutters, her tone carrying just enough edge to convey her frustration.

You shake your head gently. “It’s normal hospital procedure, Rina. He’s just following the rules. But thank you—really—for being here.” Your voice softens, gratitude seeping through. “It means a lot.”

Rina huffs but softens at your words. Before she can reply, Kento clears his throat. “Did you know your best friend here has months of vacation time saved up?” His casual tone carries a teasing edge, but his glance at you feels pointed. He's saying checkmate.

Your eyes snap to him, narrowing. If looks could kill, the room would be painted in red. “Oh, for the love of—”

“We have to take a girls’ trip!” Airi exclaims, the tension in her face finally breaking as a smile spreads across her lips. She practically bounces up and down, the previous look in her eyes replaced with excitement.

Vacation? You’ve never been one to take time off—not because you don’t need it, but because work has always been your anchor, your identity. The thought of being away feels like losing a part of yourself.

“Are you seriously taking time off?” Rina’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts.

You hesitate, caught between their hopeful expressions and the reality of your new schedule.

“Well…” You let your eyes wander around the room, grasping for a distraction, but even the nurse who had administered your medication earlier has slipped away unnoticed. “Maybe? I’m not sure yet.”

“You should,” Rina says firmly, her usual teasing tone gone. “If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

Airi nods, “You better actually rest this time, though. No sneaking out to answer emails or check on patients. I’ll hunt you down if I have to.”

You laugh again, but the sound feels thin, like glass stretched too far. “I promise,” you lie, knowing full well you’ll try to stay involved in any way you can.

As your friend's chatter on, their excitement filling the room, your doctor sighs in defeat and quietly excuses himself, promising to return later when they’re finished. You keep smiling, nodding along as if their energy is infectious, but inside, the fear twists like a knife. What if I can’t come back? What if this is the beginning of the end for me?

“Hey.” Rina shoves you softly, her tone lighter, almost teasing again. “You’ll be back before we know it. The place is already falling apart without you.”

You muster a grin, forcing it to feel natural. “Of course,” you reply, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Author's Note: DON'T BE MAD AT ME. I promise you I am single handedly creating the most beautiful storyline of my career, but you need to let me cook!

Tags: @simplyraeblue @moonfloweronmars @kalulakunundrum @froggy-crystal @msjaeger @crystalssncw @dragonscribble @gina239 @abcdefbeom @bakugonnathrowitback @your-mum3000 @elarakive @piluhns @deadhands69 @rienin @pikachuzhc @vanillabeama @cheshairacat

[mahs-dumpster]

Lady and The Tramp

a/n: do not let the title fool you this is just angst lmao

tw: oc x canon (Maisie Bows x Fellow Honest), uhhhh idk does ghosting counts as a tw?

words: around 1k

Tagging @4necdote bc I told you I'd post this

It had been another wonderful night, Maisie once again did another performance at a local bar, showcasing her new song, and if the applause was anything to go by, she did a good job, and the song was well received. 

Still, there was something odd. Maisie could hear steps behind her as she kept walking back home, she was getting more and more worried as time went on and as the streets became less crowded. Maybe she should’ve accepted when her manager offered to walk with her… 

She needed to do something before whoever it was got to her.

“Excuse m—”

It was then she turned around and kicked the person without any hesitation, making the body of the man who was following her fall on the ground. 

“Wait…” Maisie stared at his groaning figure struggling to get up, until she recognized the locks of ginger hair, fox ears and tail, and she became even angrier, kicking him again, but this time, right there. 

“I can see you're still as feisty as ever–” Fellow groaned, holding in between his legs, incapable of getting up because of the pain he was feeling. 

“I thought you were a creep, and now, after I looked at you I confirmed that you are, in fact, a creep.” She said, while Fellow simply looked at her displeased — and in pain. Maisie turned around without a care, wanting to end this exchange right then and there, but Fellow forced himself to get up and walk up to her, grabbing her wrist so she’d stay. 

“Listen, I just want to talk, ok?”

“Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about.” Maisie laughed sarcastically, getting closer to the man as she glared daggers at him. “You left me, not only that you disappeared. No note, no warning, no nothing. And as if that wasn't enough, I had to find out you've been getting yourself into that disgusting, shady business—”

“I thought you liked my shady side?”

“That's criminal. I should've filed a report to the police.” Maisie turned around, freeing her wrist from his grasp, wanting to go home. Fellow however, didn't give up, and stood in front of her, preventing her from leaving. “I advise you to get lost before I kick you in the balls again.”

“Please.” Fellow tried one more time, suddenly serious, his playful facade gone. “Listen to me for a minute, just one minute.”

Maisie looked to the side and loudly groaned. She appeared to be thinking for a moment, until she looked at him again, still angry, but trying to calm down. 

“What do you want, Fellow Honest?”

Fellow smiled. “I want another chance.”

Maisie laughed, very loudly in fact, she couldn't believe the audacity he had to come to her after all this time and ask for another chance. What does he think she is? Some lovesick lady just waiting for her prince charming to come back?

“Listen, I'm not a fool, Fellow.” She began, walking closer to the man, her eyebrows furrowed as her anger became harder to contain. “I may be a romantic, yes, I dream of love and family and a knight in shining armor but I am not a fool. I can recognize a scoundrel, and after what you did to me you've made it clear that you're one.” 

Fellow sighed, frowning at the woman. He was doing his best to be sincere, to open his heart to her, and yet…

Maybe if he explained himself?

“I didn't have a choice, Maisie, I had to make money to sur–”

“That's bullcrap and you know it! You and Gidel weren't doing the best but I was always by your side, I was willing to do what it takes to help you, yet you were always too prideful to ask for help!” 

“Prid– you yourself were having trouble with your family, how the heck would you of all people help?” Fellow finally had lost his cool. He was doing his best to stay calm, collected and polite, especially because he knew he screwed things up, he didn't have any right to get angry… but still, she wasn't even listening to him! “Maisie, I love you, but I was desperate. I had to think about what the best course of action was, I needed a well paying job for–”

“Have you considered that maybe I would’ve wanted to struggle with you?” Fellow’s ears twitched at that.

“Maisie. There was nothing you–”

“I just wanted you to be with me.”

It was quiet after that. Fellow was left unable to reply as his eyes widened, and Maisie's eyes began to sting, a tear falling without warning, and she hurriedly went to dry her face. She breathed in and out, then, she continued.

“I could’ve tried job hunting with you, we could’ve looked for opportunities together, I don't know, just– anything, I would’ve done anything if it meant you’d be by my side. I just wanted you.” she cleared her throat and regained her composure, her angry facade coming back. “But I can see you never even thought of that. To be honest, you probably never even loved me.”

“Wh– No, of course I did.” Fellow tried to reach out to her, to touch her in any way, to get her in his arms and comfort her like he did years ago, but this time, Maisie walked out of his reach, holding herself as to try and not fall for his supposed tricks. “Ribbons…”

“It's miss Bows to you, mister Fellow.” the cat beast woman spoke, her eyes cold as she looked at Fellow one last time. “I hope this is the last time we speak. Good night.”

And with that, she was gone, walking back to her house as she tried to contain the tears that kept falling from her eyes. Seeing Fellow again was the last thing she wanted, she thought she’d be angry, enraged at him, but she was mostly just… sad. He never loved her, not the same way she loved him.

After all, he was a tramp. A mere scoundrel, and she’d just been one of his preys.

Fellow loudly sighed and crouched down, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it up. He inhaled and exhaled and looked to the sky, his eyes looking at the stars for guidance. He was a fool, he knew that, who in their right mind would let Maisie slip through their fingers? A beautiful, kind, charming and strong woman, with a captivating voice who managed to make Fellow go crazy just by speaking his name. 

He never deserved her, but this time, it was like it was confirmed. She was a lady, after all, and she deserved a well meaning gentleman. Not a money hungry and selfish fox like him.

It was painfully clear now, that a lady like her would never be with a tramp like him.

•••

[Train station, a while after the events of Playful Land, before Fellow and Maisie met]

"Goodness, I'm beat. Those kids did a number on us, eh, Gidel?" Fellow stretched his arms as he said that, the feeling of the new clothes on his body felt great, it was as if he could finally relax after having to suck up to such an annoying boss. Gidel nodded, his clothes still oversized as ever, but at this point, Fellow was convinced he simply liked the feeling of them. "Now, I wonder where we should go..." He said that mostly to himself, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up, but Gidel seemed to take that as an actual question.

The kid got up from his seat and immediately began searching in Fellow's belongings, in the few bags they were able to bring from Playful Land. Fellow complained at him for looking through his stuff without asking, but once the smaller one showed up what he wanted, the ginger immediately shut up.

"Stop, leave that alone." Fellow said, immediately grabbing the small photo he so adored. "What did you want with that anyway?"

Gidel grabbed the hand he was using to hold the photo, and the cat beastman pointed towards the one in the picture, trying to convey what he wanted through his actions. Fellow stayed a moment in quiet, not because he didn't understand, but rather, because he was unsure.

"You know she doesn't want to see me, not even if I was covered in gold." He stared at the picture, a photo he took of Maisie when they first started dating. Even after they broke up he was unable to get rid of it, holding onto her smile for dear life. "As much as she likes you, I'm pretty sure it's going to be hatred by association because you walk with me, Gidel."

Gidel pleaded, his hands locked together as his eyes were closed. It wasn't just Fellow who missed her, Maisie had become an important figure in Gidel's life, and he hated the idea of not seeing her ever again, but now, they were free, they could see each other, so why not give it a try?

Fellow was quiet for a moment, before he sighed.

"Fine. But don't tell me I didn't warn ya later, you ninny."

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

To Love An Emperor

Apparently a few of you also wanted to see Caracalla being a crying pathetic mess so he is a little something I wrote on my dinner break today

@byronking @ange-olras you guys all asked on my original post so I hope this is what you wanted ❤️

Part 2

A small servant girl broke the peace of your chambers, the large wooden door scraping across the tile caused you to snap your head away from your book, staring at her silently as you awaited what commands she had been sent to give you.

You watched the petite young thing bow before you, he voice soft and high pitched as she spoke. "The Emperor has summoned you, my Lady". It did not take you long to figure out which one had summoned you to his chambers before you nodded to her and waved her away. With a sigh you closed your book for the night and began to dress yourself, you did not think the the Emperor would care if you were in your night dress but manners and respect dictated you would present yourself in a manner beffiting of him.

The long walk to the royal chambers gave you time to steel yourself for what you were about to deal with, it must have been another one of those days in the council chamber, Geta shouting and and throwing things around the room, something that had become all to frequent as of late.

Your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you approached your destination, surely the Emperor would hear you approaching and be ready to recieve you. Gently you pushed the guilded door open, not wanting to make too much noise and disturb him further. As you stood in the door way you spotted Caracalla perched on the end of his bed, his head in his hands, he had been crying again.

You sat slowly beside him on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, gently rubbing it trying to reassure him somewhat, not that it ever worked before. In one swift movement Caracalla moved to kneel on the marble floor before you, pushing himself between your, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his head into the fabric covering your chest. You could hear his muffled sobs against your chest as you stroked the back of his head, waiting for him to stop. Geta must have been particularly brutal to him today, you had heard the vituperative way he spoke to him before and it certainly would have broken a lesser man a long time ago.

"Why does my own flesh and blood treat me this way? Is it not enough that he tried to kill me in the womb but now to kill my spirit as well?" You never answered him, you knew he didn't ever want an answer, he just wanted to vent out his feelings someone who would not report back to his brother, making him look weaker than he already felt around him.

After a while the tears stopped, lifting his head away from your chest, your clothes now wet from his tears. Caracalla sunk further down onto his knees, his sad wet eyes looking up at you, pleading for love and acceptance, you had been the only one to ever understand him.

His hands gripped at the fabric on your waist, clinging so tight as if you would disappear from him. "You love me don't you? You think I'm good enough?" The tears began to well in his again, threatening to spill forth once more, making his blue eyes sparkle like sapphires, his voice shakey and desperate.

You cupped his face in your soft hands, smiling as you felt him lean into your touch, craving as much of it as he could get. You stroked the tears away from his cheeks and placed a delicate kiss upon his head. "Of course my Emperor" Your words soothed his tears and ignited him at the same time, feeling his lips crash roughly against your own. Caracalla did not care if you meant those words or not, it was all he wanted to hear, to feel your affection and to be loved.

[kurishiri]

15.5 . . . “ the memory engraved in my body ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🍷 his side story, chapter 15. this is the one you need to reach alfons bond level 22+ with in order to purchase.

— cw: alcohol consumption.

Alfons: And to see you deceived just like that——I see you don’t really hold that thing called ‘love’ for me.

Kate: ...!!

I chose words that would purposely hurt.

Just like that, her eyes wavered, teary.

Kate: I... I really, truly—!

Alfons: Loved me? ...Or what, did you mean to say love?

I asked, a mocking tone in my voice, and her palms, which had pushed against my chest, gripped tightly at my shirt, causing it to wrinkle.

It would be nice were she to throw away these feelings she had toward me on her own volition, but——

(Reality just isn’t so nice, after all.)

Kate: Just why... would you do such a thing...?

K: Why do you have to reject me so much... just over me saying ‘I love you’?

Tears fell from her cheeks as she spoke from above.

They were very much like stars falling from the night — so pure, and so beautiful.

(——So much so, it’s like the moment I touched her, I would end up getting burned.)

Kate: Not once did I say we had to be official.

K: All I wanted was to like you, and be by your side… and yet…

Alfons: …Because I find it a nuisance.

A: The fact you had fallen for me, and the fact you like me even now... all of it.

I used those sharp words to deeply pierce through her heart.

Such words seemed like such a sin toward her straightforward feelings,

and, compared to her words, which so resembled pure stars, mine were akin to shattered glass sinking down the gutters of a back alley.

Alfons: All this was meant to be was an entertainment that lasts but a month, and then letting it end the same way.

Kate left the room, and when I descended the crumbling staircase,

The friend with a wound on his eye was standing at the entrance to the hidden, dilapidated room.

Man with a wound over his eye: To think you suddenly came in with a memo saying ‘Stay at the pub until I call you. If you come then, your drink’s on me’——

Man with a wound over his eye: I was wondering what in the world was going on.

Alfons: Hehe... thank you for your cooperation on that matter.

Man with a wound over his eye: If getting perfumed and greeting a lady when she woke up was all it took for some free booze, anyone would do it.

Man with a wound over his eye: So it was to get that ‘little robin’ to give up on you?

Man with a wound over his eye: You always up and run away, fading right out, so if she could make you go to this length, well what a lady she must be.

Alfons: Indeed, you can tell me that again.

I could dodge her at every turn, push her away, but she would still put her energy into her love without so much as getting discouraged,

so left with no other choice I threw away what little of a good heart I had left to break her to pieces.

(Unable to deceive herself into thinking this wasn’t love, but instead all a misunderstanding...)

(What a poor, darling little miss robin.)

Man with a wound over his eye: If you wanted me to make love to her for real, though, I would be fine with that too.

Alfons: Now that won’t do. I’ll have you know despite all appearances, I happen to be a gentleman who despises hurting women.

Man with a wound over his eye: ...I doubt that.

Alfons: Do you now?

Man with a wound over his eye: How would I know. Well, I’ll leave the payment to you.

My friend didn’t bother to seek the truth, instead leaving the conversation like that and disappeared into the night city while laughing.

——This pub was open 24 hours, so it was lively regardless of time.

Exchanging greetings with several acquaintances and taking a seat, the bar master lifted his brow, as though exasperated.

Bar master: And here I thought you wouldn’t come back til the morning. You’re back early, aren’t you?

Alfons: I so dearly missed seeing your face, you see.

Bar master: I’m anything but happy being missed by an arsehole. Pay up for that friend of yours.

Alfons: Goodness, so cold.

While making small talk, from the back of my mind, I remembered her, who had been sitting next to me just a few hours before.

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Alfons...

K: ...I won’t put the blame on you or anything else anymore...

K: So please, make love to me.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Just how bloody cruel can you get...!!

K: I don’t understand, why would you lie to me like this!? Help me understand...

—— End flashback ——

She did not say, ‘Why did you do such a cruel thing’——but rather, ‘Why did you say such a lie?’

From the start, she had seen through my lie that another man had made love to her.

(...Just where did I slip up?)

(I stayed silent... could it be body temperature? Or the shape of my body? The movements? Or smell?)

At the very least——even if she couldn’t see with her eyes, she was able to confirm that it was indeed me.

All that to say, there was no doubt that the memory of me had been engraved in her body.

Bar master: That’s a pretty long face.

Alfons: That it is, could I ask for your consolations?

Bar master: Of course, this is a shop to share such things. For a price, that is. What’ll it be?

Alfons: Quite stingy now, aren’t we... well then, I’ll have a sherry perhaps. Any type is fine.

Bar master: A sherry? Not every day you get that.

Alfons: ...Is that so?

Indeed, I felt that I normally didn’t drink sherry.

That said, I sought out the intoxication from the liquor, so I wasn’t so caught up on the type it was.

Yet the name had slipped so easily out of my mouth, I tilted my head as I took the glass filled with a dark mahogany color liquor.

The moment I took in that mellow, sweet scent though, I remembered.

(Ahh... this was the liquor that she had drunk this afternoon, isn’t it.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: I... don’t like it... when others touch you...

K: ...Whatever, I know I’m... just like a kid t’you...

—— End flashback ——

(...Considering she was downing this sweet sherry, I would say her taste is like that of a kid’s.)

When my lips met with her, who was still blindfolded, her tongue did indeed have the sweet taste of the sherry.

But, for a reason beyond me, I felt that the kiss I shared with her was far sweeter than the liquor I was drinking now.

Alfons: ...Master, could you see if the carriage at the back of the shop is still there?

Bar master: What? Don’t go ordering the bar master around like that.

Alfons: I’ll get your mooost expensive liquor. In a bottle.

Bar master: ...How many?

Alfons: How does ten sound?

The bar master clicked his tongue and flipped a middle finger at me before leaving the back to the alleyway and coming back the next moment and shaking his head.

Bar master: It’s not here anymore.

Alfons: Is that so, then that’s a relief.

Bar master: Is it the lady who drank with you that went on the carriage?

Alfons: You’re quite in the know, aren’t you?

Bar master: Sending her back alone in the wee hours of evening, some sexyman you are.

Alfons: That’s just how it is.

Bar master: ...If you care about her enough to prepare a carriage, the least you could do is send her off.

Alfons: ‘Care,’ huh... I suppose.

A: I didn’t want to put her in any physical danger,

A: but I did need to instill so much shock in her that she would want to forget it all... so it was all a necessary measure.

Bar master: Not so sure what you’re getting at there, but what I do get is that you’re one hell of a shitty bastard.

Alfons: Ahha! I would expect nothing less from you, master, knowing me to the tee.

It took time for memories to fade.

That went for the memory of me engraved in her body... and the memory of her in mine.

But time seemed to have a knack for passing like it was melting away, unexpectedly so.

If she was going to go back to her uneventful, warm everyday life from long ago, then even more so.

Alfons: ...It would be great if you could find a man who can heal the wounds of a lost love and become happy.

Before I knew it, the glass in my hand was empty.

The sweet flavor of the sherry lingered on my tongue, staying there without fading away for eternity.

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masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️ ╱ comms 🤍

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[takamimami]

Hello!

Congratulations on your 100 followers 🥳!!!!!

I'd like to ask you Kid with prompt 12: "You make me a better person." f!reader please 😉

Hi anons!! I apologize for this taking so long - I got hit with some vicious PMDD the past two weeks and had ZERO motivation to do anything at all, let alone write. I wanted to make sure I could give you something I was proud of - and I can gladly say that I did just that :3 I hope you enjoy the read, and thanks again for your submissions!!

Kidd x F!Reader - SFW - "You make me a better person." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: FLUFF; kidd proposes, bro is a bumbling idiot in the cutest way ever, I'm so hopelessly in love with him help me, gentle kidd will be the death of me ---word count 1.7k

It’d been four days since you’d seen Kidd.

Four days.

The occasional disappearance of your captain had come to be expected, seeing as the man needed his alone time to decompress from time to time, but four days were impressive even for him.

Especially considering that the entire time the crew had been out at sea, meaning you were never more than a few yards away from him at any given point. 

You’d begun to contemplate asking Killer if he had fallen overboard without anyone noticing when a disheveled head of red hair burst into the kitchen, grumbling in Killer’s direction and motioning for him to follow him.

You stood up and Kidd’s eyes snapped to you, the intensity in them causing your step to falter. When you stopped moving his eyes shifted to Killer, who then turned to face you and reached an arm out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, listen,” he starts, and Kidd disappears through the door as he blocks you from following after him.

“This isn’t going to make any sense, but just… don’t follow him right now, okay?” 

Your brows furrowed and you inhaled deeply to protest, but Killer continued before you had a chance to offer your rebuttal.

“I know,” he sighs, hands waving in the air in front of him, “I know. He’s… I don’t even know what to tell you is up with him right now. Just, leave him be for a bit longer, okay?”

The concern must have been evident on your face because Killer returned his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it in an attempted reassuring gesture.

“Did… did I do something?” Your voice was shaky with concern, but much to your surprise Killer lets out a laugh at your question.

A laugh.

“Technically… yes,” he chuckles, and despite your confusion, the answer manages to loosen the tension that had built in your shoulders.

“Just… trust me, okay? I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

You swear you can see him wink at you through his mask as he turns and walks out of the kitchen and toward where Kidd disappeared.

You took a deep breath before returning to your task at hand, and once you’d finished the dishes you wiped down the counters before heading up to the crow’s nest to relieve Bubblegum for the night.

You brought a book with you to distract you from the nagging thoughts of Kidd, but it did little to calm the tempest of thoughts swirling in your head. You found yourself replaying your last encounters with your lover in your head to try to figure out what had triggered this reaction from him, but you came up empty-handed with every scenario, inevitably ending up flipping through the pages of your book as you desperately try to get a grip of your mind.

You continue this cycle until the sun finally starts to peek up over the edge of the water and House greets you with a sleepy smile at the crow’s nest door, signaling the end of your watch shift. 

You scaled the ladder quickly and disappeared below deck, hoping a shower and a nap would help ease your mind enough to let you fall asleep before tending to your afternoon duties. 

As you pull open the door to your and Kidd’s cabin, you are startled to find him sitting on the edge of your bed, his head resting on his hands – which are resting on his knees.

You curled an eyebrow at him curiously as you crossed the room, not sure what reaction you would get from him as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his temple.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly, the timidness in your voice causing him to look up at you with weary eyes.

“Hey.”

You stand before him for a moment before deciding to continue with your original plan, turning to move for the bathroom door. 

“I’m going to shower and get some sleep,” you mumble, looking back over your shoulder to survey Kidd. He just simply nods, making no effort to move from his spot on the bed.

You shuffle through the room in search of a towel, slinging one over your shoulder once you find it and reaching for the door handle of the bathroom.

“Did I do something?”

Your movements stop as you let the question fall from your lips, unable to bear this tension any longer. You don’t turn to look at Kidd, instead you keep your eyes trained on the bathroom door before you until you hear his weight shift on the bed behind you.

A strong arm snakes around your waist and before you have time to protest you’re being turned around to face him, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as you look up at him.

First, Killer… now him?

“What the fuck is so fun-?!”

Your words are cut off as his lips connect to yours, your irritation dissolving as his teeth pull your bottom lip in between his own. He bites down lightly and your lips part for him, his tongue pressing inside your mouth and tangling with your own.

The kiss is soft and short, and a heartbeat later Kidd is pulling away from you, tugging your hand into his as he leads you toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Shush,” he grunts, pulling you out into the hall and up onto the deck of the Victoria Punk. You follow him up the stairs of the helm, his steps finally coming to a halt as he reaches the railing.

The sunrise pulls your attention as you listen to the sound of waves crashing against the hull of the ship, the distraction only temporary as Kidd drops your hand and starts digging through his pockets.

“What the fuck is going on, Kidd?”

He stops fumbling around and looks at you, eyes softer than usual as he speaks.

“I was supposed to wait until we docked, but I don’t want to anymore,” he starts, pulling a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket. 

He clears his throat and holds the paper out in front of him, eyes scanning over the words on it before he clears his throat. 

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice slightly wobbly, “I’ve tried to figure out how the hell I wanted to do this for months now, and every time I thought I had a good idea, I ended up hating it and going back to the drawing board.”

Footsteps on the staircase behind you pull your attention, but just as quickly as he appears, Killer disappears back down the stairs, as if he’d stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to.

Kid grunts before reaching for your hand, pulling your gaze back to him as he starts to speak again.

“I sat at my desk for hours trying to put the perfect words onto this paper, and the longer I tried the more stupid it sounded. Ugh, wait - not stupid,” he runs his hand through his hair in distress. “This isn’t stupid, that’s not what I meant, I jus-”

You reach out and cup his face in your hand, a small reassuring smile curling onto your lips as a single tear pools in the corner of your eye as you realize what is happening.

Kid grunts again, sighing heavily as he leans into your touch, “I’m sorry,” he breathes, crumpling the piece of paper and letting it fall to the floor, “I don’t know the right words to say, so I’m not going to sit here and read you some script off of a piece of paper.”

He pulls his face from your hand and kneels down to the floor, at the same time that the first tear falls down your cheek. He shoves his hand in his pocket and reaches for your left hand with his metal one, eyes growing slightly hazy as he looks up at you.

“I-I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to make me rethink e-everything in my life,” he stumbles through the words, “I still don’t think I deserve to have you by my side, but I thank the gods they dropped you in my lap that night because I don’t know where or who I would be if I hadn’t met you.”

“You’ve loved every version of me, unconditionally, and without intentionally trying, you made me a better person – a better version of myself. Which is pretty impressive because I was already pretty fucking great when you met me.”

You let out a choked laugh, though it sounds more like a sob due to the tears now streaming down your cheeks as you stare at the ring resting in Kidd’s hand.

“All I know,” he says after chuckling to himself, “Is that I want you… I need you by my side, forever.”

Your heart stills as Kidd raises his hand, revealing the ring he’d spent the last three nights perfecting for you, unbeknownst to you. 

He slides the ring on your finger and you realize your hands are shaking, you bring your hand up to your face and admire the craftsmanship of the ring for a moment, before dropping your hand back down to his and staring down at him through bleary eyes.

“So is this you asking me to marry you?”

Your question makes Kidd’s smile drop, and he cocks a brow at you as he looks between you and the ring.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

You ignore the attitude in his tone and smirk at him, cocking your hip to the side as you cross your arms.

“You didn’t ask the question,” you muse, smirk growing as he rolls his eyes, “Or do I not get a choice in the matter?”

He smirks at that suggestion and stands, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you into his embrace.

“Glad you know that ‘No’ isn’t an option here,” he teases, leaning down and pressing a quick and gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls back slightly and meets your gaze, his eyes sparkling from the glow of the distant sunrise.

“Will you?”

“Will I, what?”

Kidd pinches your side and you yelp, giggling as he squeezes you in his arm tighter.

“Marry me, brat.”

You fling your arms around his neck as a fresh set of tears begin to fall, crashing your lips into his. You feel his shoulders relax as he deepens the kiss, twirling your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as he pulls back from you moments later.

“Of course I will, asshole.”

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[spinnysocks]

mini kiburi x ushari fic :3

Every muscle in Kiburi's body ached. Scar just had to call a meeting after he, Janja and Reirei had their tails handed to them by the Lion Guard for the thousandth time.

The only positive thing about the sundown meeting was Ushari. While Scar berated them as usual, the snake gave the crocodiles the benefit of the doubt - they were being sent on nearly every mission lately and were likely overtired, of course they couldn't fight as well. The firey lion didn't like to hear that coming from his second-in-command, but it was better than having to hear his prolonged reprimanding.

“Tomorrow morning, you will attack Mbuni Woods, where there will be less backlash from the Pridelanders.” Scar announced. He set his gaze on Kiburi, then looked at Ushari who gave him a nod. “Kiburi, you and your float can rest, as long as you fight better.”

The crocodile leader stood tall. “We crocs can fight just fine. We won't lose next time.”

“You better. Now, all of you go and prepare for tomorrow… And I don't want to hear any excuses again.” The ghostly lion threatened before disappearing into smoke.

Kiburi sighed deeply and let his eyes close for a second. He hadn't been allowed to sleep properly in who knows how many days. The news, although extremely small and insignificant, was a relief for him and his float.

“Kiburi?”

He opened his eyes and glanced to see Ushari slithering towards him. They were the only two left in the volcano now. The atmosphere was strangely peaceful for once.

“I thought you might fall asleep there.” The cobra was joking, but there was something more in his voice that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Kiburi turned to face him, feeling every sore muscle as he moved. He stared back at Ushari, for once in his life unable to think of a comeback due to his fatigue. “I should get back to my float before they start thinkin’ we’ll be on tomorrow's mission.”

He began walking down from the volcano’s ledge, each step slower than usual. Ushari caught up and matched his speed.

“I’ll accompany you.” The snake insisted in his ever-so-casual tone. Kiburi continued walking as he considered it. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to have company but he had to play it off.

“Don’t you need to return to your hollow for the night? It's getting dark.” As they exited the volcano, he looked up at the darkening sky where stars were beginning to show. At least it was a pretty night.

“I slept during the day. Scar usually has his best schemes in the middle of the night.”

Kiburi snickered. “Sure. What I meant was, why are you escorting me? I'm not some weak, pathetic animal who needs protection.” The words came out his mouth a little ruder than he intended.

“Of course not. You're the farthest from that… when you're not falling asleep on your feet.” Ushari responded, smirking as Kiburi snapped his weary head back up at the comment.

The crocodile leader stopped. “So you are here to protect me—”

“Relax. All I'm doing is making sure you don't walk into a rock on your way.”

The pair resumed walking. Kiburi smirked slightly. “Sounds like something my float would do. They’re a bunch of fish-for-brains.”

Ushari watched the expression on his face closely with curiosity. The crocodile barely ever smiled, but it was nice when he did. “But you like them?”

“Like them? Ha! They're my only friends.” The somewhat sad response sounded positive coming from the crocodile. Maybe it was just the fatigue.

The cobra raised an eyebrow at him, a smug smile on his face. “Am I not your friend?”

Kiburi looked back at him with a blank face. “...I like you enough. For you to be my friend, I mean.”

“I assumed we already were. Perhaps making friends with crocodiles is different from snakes. Although, a crocodile liking me is high praise to me.” Ushari hissed.

Kiburi glanced away, refusing to let the sudden redness on his face be seen. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he wouldn't let himself be uncharacteristically flustered. He could play it cool.

“Another reptile respecting me is high praise to me. I liked you from the moment we met.”

Ushari chuckled. “Not enough to be unspoken friends?” The hint in his voice was just like that of their first meeting — smooth and casual and yet producing so many feelings in the crocodile.

Kiburi dared to look at him again — if he was brave enough to fight, then he was brave enough to look at Ushari's face. “Oh, I don't think we're friends, Ushari…”