#based on that one cute side-stepping dance she does !!!

[hodinodi]

go white girl go‼️

[cyberrose2001]

TFP Optimus with a goth and metalhead reader. Reader is female. Fluff.

TFP Optimus x Fem!Goth/Metalhead!Reader

Heyy so this was pretty cute to write. I had come up with a couple different ideas but I went with something simple and took creative liberty. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None, Fluff, reader is human.

Word Count: 1,259

'There's no escape from the thoughts inside my head,

Dark days has taken the best of me,

I can't go on like this.'

Sliding the volume bar up, you relax into the stained lounge not currently occupied with kids bickering for player one. They can be pestering at best. However, you love them a lot, especially Miko. That little rockstar has wiggled her way under your skin more than you would've liked. You can't count how often she's come to you with a new metal song she wanted to destroy your eardrums with, in a good way, much to the chagrin of the rest of Team Prime.

So when your fellow metalhead friend goes home with a big smile on her face and the second guitar she's broken this week, you take the opportunity to relax with your own music. With added earbuds, of course.

'Can you turn back time,

To change what you have done?

To shape who you become?'

Shutting your eyes, you let the rolling drums and metallic melodies flood your senses, the lyrics soothing you better than any therapist you could throw money at.

'DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUUUUU-'

Tap tap.

"GAHH!"

After nearly giving the base a new emergency exit via a Y/n-shaped hole through the roof, you rip off your earbuds to glare daggers at exactly who tapped you on the shoulder in your mid-maladaptive daydreaming.

A very concerned, slightly mortified Optimus Prime stares at you right back.

You have now exceeded your yearly quota for embarrassment in the span of five seconds.

"Oh! Optimus, sorry I-" You fumble for your phone that went airborne to the other side of the lounge, quickly pausing your music and clearing your throat, "Sorry, is there something I can... do for you?"

Optimus recovers from your sudden outburst and clears his vocalizer, "Nothing to be concerned about," He pauses, "I think... but I couldn't help but overhear music coming from your small device."

"Oh, these?" You show him your earbuds, heavily used and on its last string of wire, "Yeah, that's what they're used for. Personalised music only you can listen to from, called earphones."

"Ah, a device that recognises its user," Optimus says confidently, "Would it still be functional if another were to use it?"

"Uh, no," You hold back a soft chuckle. Optimus may be an eons-old robot, but it seems he still has much to learn about human culture, "I phrased that wrong. It sends music directly into your ears. Not only does it sound better, but it's more... respectful to the people around you."

Optimus seemed to understand that, nodding and leaning in to get a closer look at the magical, elusive earphones, "Hm, I see. How interesting, I am not sure if Cybertron ever had these."

You're unsure if you should explain the crucial 'ear' part, but then again, you also had some things to learn about Cybertronians.

"Maybe," You say, giving him an unsure smile, "Would you... like to try them out? I'm not sure how they will fit because, y'know, ears."

The mech perks up at your offer, seeming interested in something other than having a candle-lit dinner and wine with his datapad.

"If you allow me," Optimus holds out a servo, "I would be grateful for the opportunity."

God, he's so sweet. It's like you asked him to accompany you to a high school dance, except it's not. He wants to try out earphones.

"I am sure they will be fine. My comlink had previously been modified to accommodate external inputs."

You smile sheepishly. That's a good enough answer and one you were hoping for. You move from the lounge to step onto Optimus' outstretched servo, and now you realise that you've never actually been held by Optimus. You know he's big, but suddenly becoming inches close to his faceplates and getting a feel for the mech's true size has your mind spinning.

And this piece of heavy metal that holds you like a delicate flower is about to experience true heavy metal.

Optimus studies you for a moment longer, and his optics finally get a proper, up-close look at your unique style, "You look quite... different from the others. Before proceeding with this 'personalised' experience, may I ask why?"

That shouldn't have made your face flush, but it did. Questionable choice of wording, but he's right. You do have a different style even compared to Miko. Instead of colourful streaks of pink and the brash early two thousand' get-up, you chose to adorn yourself with all-black clothing and absolutely no bold colours in your hair. Even your make-up, black lipstick, and harsh eyeliner that would make a Christian mother weep. Optimus would undoubtedly question why you chose a different way of representing yourself.

"Well, I'm sure it's strange to you," You begin, trying to ignore how high off the ground you are, "But it's another way for humans to express themselves. It's more of an aesthetic of sorts, but a way of life for others. I guess you could compare it to Cybertronians choosing their alt modes."

Optimus nods, absorbing the new knowledge like a sponge. For some reason, that was easier to explain than the earphones.

"Ah, so it is a distinct way to present yourself to others—an identity of sorts. We Cybertronians are quite limited in our own modifications, partly due to the war." The mech reaches his other servo to your hair, toying with the ends to admire the softness, "I do not find that strange at all that you would choose to modify yourself this way. It's rather endearing and unique; I admire that about your species."

"That's..." Your cheeks flush once again as you watch him play with your hair, "Kind of sweet." You give him a soft smile, touching his servo near your head. He makes eye contact with you, and that's when your breath hitches, and you clear your throat, "But it's not just clothes or... or other mods we can use - we can use music too."

Optimus nods his helm in familiarity, "Yes, I have become aware of that. Miko can be quite the musician." You're unsure if he's saying that to be polite or if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, I've been trying to teach her, I promise." You chuckle softly, as does he. You continue, unconsciously gripping his servo, "But music is the pathway to the soul, at least for me. It can help me think and even untangle my emotions or just let them be and only soothe. It helps me live in the moment. Like a... a therapist, if that makes sense."

The Prime seems to have connected the dots, "That is why you spend most of your time resting on the couch listening to your music?" Optimus realises his impudence towards you earlier when he startled you, "I see. I apologise for interrupting your therapy earlier; that was rather brash of me."

God, no, he is exceeding unprecedented levels of sweetness now. His optics' soft, apologetic look nearly obliterates you, thinking he had legitimately interrupted a therapy session.

"No, no, Optimus," You suppress a laugh, "It's okay, really. It's a figure of speech. It feels like therapy. Sometimes it's better."

Optimus exhales a gentle sigh, "Apologies. You humans have such expressive figures of speech I have yet to catch onto."   

"It's alright. Now, speaking of therapy." You try to hide your ever-growing affection for him and retract your hand, holding up one end of the small earbud, "How about that personalised experience?"

[gurugirl]

The Arrangement | "Like this, Daddy?"

Based on reader requests - was unable to find the original request but I know a lot of y'all really wanted this one. Enjoy!

Summary: Harry wants to make a cute video of Y/n stripping for him but it quickly turns into a sex tape.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, sex tape stuff

The Arrangement Masterlist

“Want to make a little video of you. How’s that sound?” Harry said as Y/n looked down at the pretty lacy nighty set he’d just gifted her. She was used to him buying her things but this little gift with silk and lace and bows was super sexy and feminine and exactly something she’d love to have.

Looking up at him with rounded eyes she smiled, “Anything you want, Daddy. Is this for the video?” She asked as she lifted the lingerie upward.

Harry brushed his fingers over the material and nodded, “If you want. You’ll be the star so you can decide what you’d like to wear or not wear.”

Looking over the delicate fabric she nodded and bit her lip, “I’ll go change. I really like this. Think it’ll be really pretty for a video.”

It was stunning. When she slid it up her hips and tucked her breasts into the flimsy lace she looked at herself in the mirror and grinned. It really was lovely. She imagined that the lingerie was very expensive. Nothing she could ever afford. But of course, nothing Harry bought her was in her price range.

The moment she walked into the bedroom, dawning the sexy lacy set and a pair of sleek black heels, Harry already had his cellphone recording and the lights dimmed. He was sitting on a chair with his legs spread and watching her as she stepped in closer.

She’d never done anything like it before. Being recorded was nerve-wracking. She wasn’t sure how to act or what to do as she stopped and stood just feet from her lover.

“What should I do?” She asked shyly as she brushed her hands over her sides and looked down at herself.

“Show Daddy how you touch yourself, baby. Use that chair next to you if you want to sit or bend yourself over it. Show me what a good girl does for her daddy.”

Harry was already aching for her. He’d been gone at work all day and had missed her. The vintage lingerie set that he bought her last week finally came in that afternoon and seeing it hidden away in the box under his desk had him imagining what she might look like in it all day. But what he imagined hadn’t even been close to reality. The way it fit over her curves made it look like it’d been tailored for her. Her breasts were held in as the lace softly stretched over her skin and her nipples were visible through the thin fabric. Tiny bows on either hip that dangled silk over her smooth skin. She looked edible.

She smiled and rubbed her hands over her breasts first. She felt her soft tits under the fabric and pressed her nipples through the lace to get them hard as she watched Harry. Moving her hips a little she laughed in embarrassment at herself as she lowered her hands over her stomach and to her hips. She felt silly. She wasn’t a good dancer in any setting but trying to do some sort of strip dance while being recorded? In front of Harry?

Harry had a serious expression on his face though as he turned on a sexy song for her to dance to, “You’re doing so well, baby. Look at how pretty you are for Daddy. Like a little present with lace on top and little bows on your hips. Keep going, honey.”

The music gave her something to move to so she swayed her hips a little more as she continued feeling the fabric under her palms. She kept her eyes on Harry’s, wanting him to give her cues but he was silent as he watched her. She decided to lift her arms upward and spin. She spun slowly and kept her neck turned so she could see Harry and when she saw him lick his lips and his eyes drag down her frame to her hips and her waist she felt like that was a good sign.

She bent herself down, slowly pushing her bottom out and lowering her hands to her ankles before attempting to sensually pull herself upright again. Her rhythm had never been great but she was doing her best to move to the slow and sexy beat.

Placing her hands on the chair she arched her back and wiggled her tush a little as Harry’s expression turned a little darker. He looked like he was getting turned on and that really had her tummy bubbling with excitement.

“You’re a natural, Y/n. So fucking gorgeous for Daddy. Keep going, baby. I wanna see you get a little nasty.”

She knew her face was hot and her ears were on fire. Her nerves were peaking but she felt like he was enjoying what he was seeing based on the way he was looking at her. And if that didn’t give it away, the bulge at his crotch was a good indicator.

She put her pointer and middle finger in her mouth, using her tongue to swipe up and down her digits as she sat down in the chair across from Harry. Spreading her legs apart she watched as he angled his cell phone toward her and she pulled her wet fingers out of her mouth, “Like this, Daddy?” She lowered her left hand down between her thighs and pressed her wetted fingers over the thin material at her crotch. She continued rocking lightly to the music as she gazed into Harry’s eyes and bit her lip.

Harry watched as she toyed with herself over the fabric of her lingerie and he was nearly bursting from his pants. He loved how sweet and shy she acted but he knew she could be absolutely filthy if she wanted to, “Bring your other hand up and play with your tits too. They look like they need some attention.” He directed.

She was thankful he told her. She preferred to be given directions and now she at least knew for sure he wanted to see her play with her breasts.

Touching the fabric over her boobs she poked one finger under the lace and brushed over her nipple as she continued circling over the fabric at her crotch with her other hand.

Harry pressed over his erection as he watched his girl do her thing. She was adorable but he could tell she was finally getting worked up, “Don’t stop touching yourself until it’s all wet. Want you to show Daddy how wet you can get.”

Y/n let out a deep breath and nodded as she continued fingering over her nipples and rubbing the warm spot between her legs.

“Daddy, want to touch it. Under this. Can I?” She poked her finger along the inside edge of her panties close to her pussy.

“Yes, baby. Pull it to the side. Let’s have a look at Daddy’s sweet little cunt.”

She pulled at the material and pushed it to the side, exposing her pussy to Harry and his camera. Spreading her legs further she leaned back and swayed her neck as she rubbed herself, “It’s getting wet for you Daddy. Just like you like.” She lifted her fingers and puffed a small laugh, “See?”

Harry groaned and undid his pants to let his cock have a bit more space. He was going to lose it. Yes, she was adorable, but she was a vixen and she knew what she was doing.

When the material of her panties was all wet and her soft panting had her chest rising and falling she began to pull at the lace over her breasts and bring her tits out, “Want you to see how hard my nipples are.”

Harry leaned forward and examined her body as her breasts bounced free from the top of the night set, “Now that your pussy’s all messy, want to see you dance a little baby. Start taking off your lingerie one piece at a time.”

Y/n moaned as she removed her hand from her pussy and stood up with a grin. Harry’s hard cock and his parted lips and dark eyes told her what she needed to know. He loved what he saw and her confidence to keep going was spurred.

The top part of the lingerie was unhooked and pulled off as she moved with the music and then she turned around so her bottom was aimed at Harry as she bent and looked over her shoulder, “Watch this Daddy.”

Harry was watching all right. That was never going to be an issue. He’d kept his eyes on her body the entire time, “Oh baby. You’re such a sweet girl with your ass in the air for Daddy like that. Can you stick your fingers inside your wet hole for me? Want to see you finger yourself like this.”

She grasped onto the chair and pulled the fabric away from her crotch again. It was soaked through. She kept her head turned so she could watch Harry as she brought her hand around her bottom and spread her legs, pushing two fingers into her pussy for the camera, “Feels good, Daddy. Wish it was your fingers inside of me.” She panted her words.

She arched her back further as she continued thrusting her fingers and keeping her eyes on Harry. The angle was perfect. Her backside was bare to him, the fabric pushed over so he could see everything, wet and puffy with her fingers stuffed into herself. Her tits swayed as she rocked herself to the beat and her high heels made her look extra slutty.

“Now turn to face the camera again. Want to see your perfect breasts.”

She pulled her hand away and stood as she turned and gyrated her hips and squeezed her tits together, “You like it, Daddy? Is it a good video?”

Harry nodded, “Very good. How would you feel about me fucking you and recording it? I promise no one will ever see it but us.” He hadn’t intended on it, but now that he had started it he figured why the hell not?

She would say yes to anything he wanted. She never questioned his decisions, “I like that if you want it. Want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

Harry groaned and let out a laugh, “In due time. Pull the rest of that off, baby. Keep your heels on, though.”

Her hips moved slowly as she pushed her fingers into the band of her bottoms and began to pull them down her legs, still attempting to keep up with the beat.

Harry stood up and held the phone out so he could capture everything, “Let’s have a little smoke, and then I’m gonna set this up and fuck you. Keep dancing baby.”

Lighting up a joint after he propped his phone up to record Y/n as she danced he took a puff and then handed it to her.

Taking it between her fingers she drew in a breath of the cannabis and continued dancing slowly wearing only her high heels. One hand she used to run over her curves, feel over her breasts, and down to her tummy while she inhaled and then blew out the smoke from her lips.

Harry took the joint from her to let her get back into the little strip tease she began doing.

“My pretty girl. Who’s girl are you baby?”

Y/n looked at Harry and ran her hands upward and swung her hips, “I’m your girl, Daddy.”

His smile and the sultry gaze had Y/n feeling quite bold so she tilted her neck from side to side with the beat then pinched her boobs together, “Mmm… look, Daddy…” her moans were soft as she thumbed over her nipples and swayed, “So pretty for you. Am I pretty for you?”

Harry swallowed and nodded, “So pretty for Daddy, that’s right.” He sat down on the chair she was dancing next to as the camera kept recording, “Can you give me a lap dance? Want to see how filthy you can be.”

Wearing only her heels she looked at the camera and then climbed over his lap, facing him. Her drippy pussy was on display for the video as she gently moved her hips and Harry kept his hands on the arms of the chair.

She arched her back and sighed as she rolled her hips and tried to stay steady over him as well as she could.

“You can put your hands on my shoulders if you want. I’ll allow it.”

She quickly lowered her hands so she could stabilize herself as she rocked and swayed to the music, “Like it, Daddy? I’m a good girl for you aren’t I?”

Harry groped at her ass and pulled her down over him, her pussy pressed against the zipper of his pants, “My good girl. Does exactly what Daddy asks of her.”

She smiled and nodded as she rolled her hips over him. She knew she was wet but as she felt Harry’s zipper under her she gasped and looked down, “Oh no, Daddy. I’m getting your pants all wet.”

Harry was barely holding it together. He was ready to destroy her, “S’okay. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Can be washed. You’re just a dirty girl. Can’t help it when she’s messy.”

When she felt Harry pull her in closer she felt like her body was on fire. She knew he was going to be fucking her soon. His cock was hard and his eyes and irises were nearly fully covered by his pupils, “I’m so messy sometimes, Daddy,” she said as she began to climb off his lap and settle onto the floor between his legs. Turning around to look into the camera before looking back up at Harry she hesitantly put her hands up to his zipper, “Can I pull you out? Wanna suck on you so bad.” The camera had the perfect angle of her taking him into her mouth as Harry struggled to keep his mind clear. He wanted to give her a taste but he really wanted fuck her brains out.

She took him down her throat as Harry pushed his hands into her hair and made her gurgle over him a few times before he lifted her up and stood from his spot and bent her over the chair, “Daddy needs to feel this pussy right now. Needs to fuck his little girl before he goes crazy. You did so good for me, baby.”

Harry watched the camera as he pushed himself into her tight, wet hole. She gasped and clung onto the chair as he stuffed into her, “Yesss… Daddy…”

Moans and grunts and slow, long thrusts started the scene. His sweet girl was only wearing heels as he was nearly fully clothed, his cock the only thing exposed to the camera as he started to work into her at a faster pace.

He pressed her down by the back of her neck, her face into the seat cushion of the chair with her mouth wide open. She could barely make a peep once he began to thud into her harder. The sturdy chair moved under their weight as each heavy plunge was given to her.

Harry kept one hand at her bottom, pulling her soft skin so he could watch his cock disappear into her slippery pussy over and over again. The camera was picking up the scene from the side and Harry knew his cock could be seen entering her pussy at the angle it was in. It was perfect for his own private collection.

When he spanked her bottom quickly she groaned and gasped, the first noises from her throat since he’d been inside of her and he smiled, “There you are. Wondered where your voice went. Little girl needs spankings to get her to speak up? Hm?”

She was being rocked and jolted at each of his harsh thrusts and her clit was rubbing hard over the fabric of the arm of the chair and it felt divine. Her eyes were rolled into the back of her head as she gurgled and tried to respond but her body was already sending her into an orgasm.

Harry coughed out a surprised laugh as he felt her clench and spasm over his cock and he closed his eyes as she came around him. It was the best feeling in the world to have Y/n’s pussy in orgasm while he was inside of her. There was nothing like it.

He landed another palm on her bottom as she began to come down and he pulled out, lifting her up gently. He wrapped his hands around her hair and pulled her back into his chest as he spoke into her ear, “On your knees for me little girl.”

Y/n clumsily got to her knees and turned to face Harry. She was a mess with drool on her face, palm prints on her backside, messy hair, and mascara down her cheeks. A gorgeous mess.

Harry grasped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and began to pump his cock in front of her face, “Open up wide and stick out that pretty tongue.”

She looked up at him in a daze as she opened her mouth and jutted her tongue out for him. She kept her hands behind her back, knowing that’s how he liked it. She only touched when he allowed her to.

The moment his warm, pink tip settled over her tongue she licked along the parts she could reach and moaned at the taste of his precome dripping. Harry continued stroking himself off, his slit in contact with her taste buds as he groaned at the sight, “My little fuck doll. Loves having Daddy’s cock in all her holes,” He pushed himself down into her throat in one swift motion and held her down on him as he continued, “Goddamn, baby. Always take it so well. So pretty when your mouth is stuffed and throat is gagging.”

He pulled back out as she gasped and kept her mouth wide open. She kept her eyes on his and slid her tongue out to reach for his pretty cock but with the way he was holding her hair she couldn’t move her head and Harry went back to stroking himself on her tongue.

He wanted to come inside of her pussy and show the camera the creampie and how cute she was dripping with him, but he also wanted to record himself coming on her face and her tits.

He felt his balls squeeze to his body as he moaned and felt his tummy swirl as his orgasm started to unfold.

Gonna cover you in my come, baby. Fuck, so pretty…” he pumped faster as his fingers tightened in her hair and he felt his legs quiver as he finally began to release.

The first pump of his come went into her mouth before he angled himself to spurt on her face and then her neck and to her tits. Harry’s groans and the sound of his palm stroking his cock, getting come all over his shaft as he poured himself all over her pretty skin was pornographic. He knew the video would be good for later. He’d have them watch it that night as he fucked her again before bed.

“Fuck, baby! God… ffffuuu…” his words were panted as he slowly came down and gently released her hair.

His chest heaved slightly as he caught his breath and grasped her chin, angling her face upward, “Time to lick Daddy’s cock clean, baby. Go on.”

Y/n got to it immediately, swiping her tongue over his shaft and down his balls and back upward, swallowing his come and her arousal, lapping at him like he was a lollipop.

“Mmmm…” she moaned as she looked up at him with her tongue roving over his skin.

“Yeah? Tastes good sweetheart? It’s cause your pussy was there too. Like how you taste don’t you?”

Y/n nodded as Harry backed away and tucked himself into his briefs. He bent down to his cute girl with his come all over her and swiped up a glob from her tits putting his fingers up to her mouth, “Taste.”

She happily opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his fingers, licking those clean as well. Harry sighed and grinned, “Daddy’s dirty girl.”

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[autistook]

Got inspired to do some headcanons by an ask I got from @kylobith

What would the Hobbits be like on a night out at the club?

I'm basing this on the club I usually go to, which has a dance floor, karaoke room, smoking room etc.

Frodo:

- Takes a shot immediately and dances his way to the dance floor in an instant.

- He probably tries to only drink a few stronger ones and then beer, but when Merry and Pippin suggest he gets tequila, he fucking gets tequila.

- And that makes him dance even harder.

- After a while Frodo forgets to drink water and Sam has to make sure he drinks that too.

- Is normally quite specific about music, but with the drinks in his system he probably asks the DJ for Sweet Caroline or some shit...

- ... and sings that song whole-heartedly and reaches for Sam's hands and embrace during it.

- Gets a ride home, but before he gets there he gets the munchies so fast food it is.

- Probably makes himself tea when he gets home and then he goes to bed, forgetting the tea in the cup overnight because he got eepy.

Sam:

- Drinks and is relatably drunk all night, but considering he is the mother of the group and especially wants to take care of Mister Frodo, he is "sober" drunk, so behaves the same as he normally would, but sways on his feet and doesn't hear properly.

- Drinks beer and maybe one cute drink with a swirly straw.

- Keeps bringing water to everyone. Everyone accepts it but Pippin who is too busy running off somewhere again.

- Is on drink watch duty - and takes it so seriously he keeps his hands on top of the drinks at all times when left alone at the table so no one will spike them.

- Goes to have some sort of a deep conversation over a smoke with Merry at some point, which almost snaps him out of his sober-like drunkness because he almost lets go of his caretaker side.

- Pippin convinces him to sing a karaoke song with him so he does that while standing awkwardly...

- ... though he is smiling a bit and is blushing, so secretly he loves it.

- Probably is the designated Hobbit to listen to other drunk people overshare, because he is at the table alone quite a few times because he is watching the drinks.

- When everyone is home safe and he steps inside the house: the drinks fucking hit him.

- Clumsy because of the drunkness. Talks to himself a lot. Tries to cook something on a pan but can't hold anything in his hands...

- ... so he gives up and goes to bed.

- Changes to pajamas though!

- Probably goes to check on Frodo in the morning after and brings him painkillers and water to bed. Frodo of course still in the same clothes from the previous night and if he was to wear eyeliner, it would be all over his face. Sam looks fresh as fuck tho.

Pippin:

- Immediately takes shots with Merry and grabs a pint in both hands.

- Plays beer pong with strangers when Merry goes to smoke some pipe-weed.

- Makes a new best friend for a few hours from one of the dudes who is playing.

- Can't make up his mind if he wants to do karaoke or dance, so he does both all night, which causes everyone to lose him a few times during the night.

- Doesn't drink the water he is offered...

- ...except once when Frodo gave him a shotglass of water and he thought it was vodka.

- Sings along every karaoke song even if he is not the one singing.

- Most of the karaoke songs he sings with Merry or his new bestie of the night.

- Has a very deep conversation with some girl at some point. She's struggling with a chaotic relationship problem and Pippin tries to help, but probably gives her the worst advice.

- Most of his drinks after the few ales and shots are either tequila shots or some colorful cocktails in quirky glasses, with those swirly straws and little umbrellas.

- Eventually is the one person from the group that ends up throwing up. Spends like an hour in the bathroom doing that, but then he springs up on his feet and goes back to dancing.

- At that point absolutely no one has any idea where the fuck he is.

- ... so the DJ plays some bs song (probably their quilty pleasure song, like something by One Direction or Taylor Swift) Merry requested that he knows will drag Pippin out to look for him to dance with.

- It works, so Merry finally drags him home.

- Of course stopping for some heavy junk food, where Pippin cries for like a minute over feeling guilty about throwing up and everyone having to take care of him...

- ...which he soon forgets because his McFlurry arrived or something.

- Throws up at home a few more times before climbs under covers and is immediately knocked out.

- When he wakes up, he realizes he is not even home. He was so drunk Merry just made him sleep on his couch. There's a bucket next to his head just in case.

- Despite his severe hangover: wants to do it again.

- "I'm never drinking again. Although, what are we doing next weekend?"

Merry:

- Spends most of his night singing with Pippin and having deep conversations with stranger.

- Probably plays beer bong too and wins.

- He spots a very pretty girl and goes flirting: he gets shot down at least the few first times with a few girls.

- Then he hits it off with someone and Pippin drags him away to get more drinks.

- Merry does dance with the girl at least once.

- Makes his way to Frodo often and dances with him while Pippin is talking to that random dude he bonded with.

- Is the one who eventually talks everyone into drinking more than they intended. He worships the chaos of it.

- Is high simultaneously. 100%. Goes smoking 2 or 3 times in an hour. The smoke breaks are supposed to be short, but he always ends up engaging in some deep conversations.

- The smoking room is the place he does get to kiss that one girl after they talked some deep nonsense.

- It seems like she might be interested in leaving with him (he sure is) but Sam announces to him that Pippin is basically dying, so he of course goes to take care of him.

- Gets Pippin up the stairs and they probably do some stupid drunken parkour shit on their way home, because Merry gets the drunk zoomies from the fresh hair and it rubs off on Pippin.

- Keeps giggling at nothing in the fast food place.

- When he gets home with Pippin, he helps Pippin clean off his face and brush his teeth, before making the couch into a bed for him (though sloppily and kind of mumbles while he does it: he is still a bit annoyed by Pippin and from never being able to see the pretty girl again).

- In the morning has the worst headache out of them all somehow, and his hair looks like a birds nest.

- Groans and goes back to sleep.

These are my own headcanons I thought of after I woke up from my own night out lol.

[ashdreams2023]

Could you do some headcanons about Loki taking care of her toddler like, what would they do, if he is a good father or even if he jealous, and maybe about her first steps too. If you feel uncomfortable its totally okay!! Have a great day <3

Loki and his toddler

This man will buy the whole baby store if somebody doesn’t stop him

Absolutely loves dressing her up in cute outfits and matching hats, he’s a sucker for matching hats

His daughter will have pierced ears and will buy her nice quality earrings because his baby deserves the best

You know how toddler follow their parents everywhere? Where Loki is the one doing the following, he just find her so fascinating

Never let’s her walk in public areas, especially side walks and such, those are nasty and he wants his baby to be safe and healthy

Speaking of healthy, he tries to give her many options in veggies, he sometimes even changes the taste using charms so she can eat something nutritious for once

He talks to her like an adult when she does something wrong, like his baby is spoiled but mature

This little girl will be an out spoken queen, her vocabulary will make an adult bow in shame

Doesn’t like it when she shows interest in boys, like no! Boys are no good and if they hurt her he will hurt them back

When she first took her first steps he bought her a gold anklet (based on true events, my grandma did that to me when I walked lol)

Dances with her and calls her his little princess

Will create the most beautiful Teairas for her to wear

Styles her hair using those old magazines with tutorials on them!

Disney movies every night before bed

He also reads with her a lot during the day, they sometimes act out their favorite scenes

Bought her those squeaky shoes when she started sprinting away from him when they in public

He smells like cheese puffs most days than not

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 11, "Old Scars"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Astarion tries to make sense of his feelings following his tryst with Áine. When Áine wakes, she sees an alarming scar pattern on Astarion’s back, bringing up questions about his past. The group recovers from the party over breakfast and receives their next steps from Halsin, which unearth something buried for Áine. A monster hunter passes by the camp and alerts them to a rogue vampire spawn in the area.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Suggestive content & dialogue; trauma; angst; description of a panic attack; lightly proofread; struggled through the last half of this one a little bit; author note at the end

Word Count: 8.3k

Listening to: Dead Man - David Kushner, I’ve also had White Winter Hymnal on a literal loop for like three days bc vibes (and also I have a cute little recurring vision of Áine dancing to the melody at the tiefling party with Alfira)

Astarion found no rest that night, his mind far too full and his stomach far too twisted. What he did do was ensure that Áine was too exhausted by the end of their tryst to stay awake, lest she be coherent and, ever observant, start asking the right questions. He was unsettled by the idea of entering a reverie of any depth while knowing someone else was this close by. It was a vulnerable state for him to enter and he’d had enough of vulnerability despite seeming unable to avoid it when it came to being with her.

Instead, he’d eased her spent, supple body down to the grass and waited with something akin to apprehension until she’d fallen asleep. Astarion had run his hands over his face, exhaled against his hands, and risen to retrieve his clothes. Everything save his shirt went back on and he could admit that he felt a little less anxious now that he was no longer naked below the waist. He was a mix of residual feelings that had nothing whatsoever to do with that night in isolation and new inclinations that had everything to do with that night. 

He sat back down in the grass near where Áine was curled on her side, maintaining his distance yet still close enough to feel her gentle heat radiating from her skin. Even he couldn’t believe his excuses anymore. Astarion bridged his fingers, resting his chin against them while his elbows found purchase on his crisscrossed legs. He closed his eyes, venturing into a territory that frightened him by delving into his memory to search for answers to a question he needn’t even ask. 

Astarion thought back through the last couple of hours, but particularly to the first “round,” so to speak, and he forced himself to start admitting some things internally if only to make sense of what their situation had become. The first thing he needed to admit was that his physical reactions to her were based on how he felt about her. He could hem them in with effort, but when their night of passion first escalated, he hadn’t been ready in the slightest for how hard it would hit him to finally be with her. 

Taking her blood while they were fucking had also been utterly intoxicating and something he, of course, had never experienced before her. His troubled thoughts tried to latch onto that to serve as sufficient reasoning for everything he was contending with, but he swatted that compulsion away. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, but for his own peace of mind, he had to get to the bottom of this. 

Astarion rolled his shoulders, his jaw setting at the tension he felt in them. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him that he’d react this way to realizing he was growing attached to someone. The last time he’d been too sentimental to bring a target back to Cazador, he’d spent a year entombed, starving, and alone, as punishment. He’d raked his nails raw against the underside of the casket, desperate to carve his way out, until it became clear that he’d stay there as long as his sire desired. Then it was all a waiting game. Waiting to give up. Waiting to be released from the crypt and put back into service, free-roaming but never free. Waiting to die. Knowing all the while that he’d never have such an easy escape from this life as to die before his master wished it.      

Somber crimson eyes opened slowly, prematurely cast downward toward the sleeping beauty in front of him. She was, of course, not that sweet boy from all those years ago. Astarion had always wondered what had happened to him in the end. If because of his sacrifice, that man went on to live a full, wonderful life or if in the end one of his siblings had done what he’d not had it in him to do. Despite how hardened he’d become to everyone but himself in this wretched world since then, he still hoped the former. Then perhaps the pieces chipped from his sanity during that horrible, horrible year would amount to something.

That at least accounted for why he felt so afraid. He wasn’t afraid of her. In fact, she might have been the only person in this world he didn’t fear in any capacity. Astarion’s mind wandered back to when he’d taken her hands off his waistband and moved them to his shoulders, how she’d kept them there without question despite not knowing in full what he’d been through. And he’d trusted her to, also without question. That may have been the most unnerving part of all.

Astarion went rigid when Áine stirred, but she simply stretched a little and rolled over to her other side, curling back up but facing him this time. It suddenly crossed his mind that she might be cold, but as far as his icy body could tell, it was a balmy summer night. He supposed he had found her in this position when he’d trespassed on her tent the night she’d first let him drink from her, so perhaps this was just how she slept. He’d yet to truly get used to sleeping on the ground, but she seemed comfortable enough.

In her sleep, Áine set a hand on the grass beside her as if searching for him. He recanted the thought, considering that perhaps that was wishful thinking on his part. Astarion contemplated her hand—he knew its touch well after their coupling. How her fingers felt in his hair—a touch he’d nearly ducked from until he realized what she was doing wasn’t to inflict pain and, Hells, instead it had felt delicious—and how just one of his hands could hold both of her slender wrists (and pin them above her head). He knew where on her fingers playing her lute was giving her callouses and how the pad of her thumb felt when it brushed against his hand, against his jawline while the pinpoints of her fingertips dotted his cheek like the smallest constellation.

Should he let her find him? He was tempted. However something akin to panic lashed through him again and he looked away from her outstretched hand, his eyes instead finding the slowly lightening sky. Astarion rose when the sun finally poured down into their clearing, drawn like a moth to a flame. Under normal vampiric circumstances, that would’ve been an accurate analogy, but at least for the time being, he had a free pass to feel the sunshine on his skin again. He stepped into its rays, not without some habitual trepidation still, but sighed contently when it warmed him, his eyes fluttering closed. 

There was so much warmth, so much color, in this world he’d never noticed before being deprived of it for so long. He craved power, he craved vengeance, but he craved these small things, too. These simple, quiet moments when it was as if only he existed. And now, he supposed, that extended to Áine too.

Behind him, awakened by the same morning light, Áine drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was initially disoriented to find grass around and under her instead of the nest of pillows that she’d accumulated in her tent. And then, after remembering why she was out there in the first place and noting the empty clutch of green grass her hand rested on, Áine found herself confused about where her lover had gone. She only had a few seconds to wonder if he’d just left her out there when she raised her head and followed a familiar elongated shadow toward its equally familiar source.

Áine couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes she couldn’t look at him and not see a cat curling up in the afternoon sunshine. That was the sort of life he deserved. That was the sort of life they all deserved after everything they’d been through. 

“You’re staring again, darling.”

Discovered, Áine startled but felt unabashed. He was standing there practically glistening, what was she supposed to do but respectfully gawk? She ignored his statement and asked instead, “Not staying for a cuddle, I take it?”

Astarion didn’t turn to look at her but remained with his face and palms skyward as if he could absorb the sun’s fire. “In truth, I thought you’d be exhausted after last night,” he said.

Áine blushed, a sleepy smile touching her lips as their post-party activities resurfaced in her mind. Also swift to cross her mind were the moments she could’ve sworn, even in the darkness, that she’d seen sadness cross his features. At times, even something akin to distress. Every instance had been gone in a flash but stuck firmly in her memory all the same. 

Pursing her lips, she felt as if she simply had to ask, even if she was wrong. “You…seemed a little distant at times. Like you weren’t fully there,” she said hesitantly, a tilt to her head as she studied his profile. “Are you alright?”    

Astarion was glad he was facing away from her—he felt the mask over his true emotions fissure at the question. “Of course. Who wouldn’t be after a night like that?” he purred, turning his head just enough to offer her a debonair and yet still fiendish smile. “I will admit I was holding back a little… I didn’t want to lose control.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “Delicious as you were, I didn’t want to go too far.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she had no reason not to, she supposed. Absently, Áine touched her neck, her fingertips finding the small indents his fangs had left behind. “Mm, well I guess I should thank you for leaving me some blood then.”

Astarion chuckled darkly. “I discovered several new delicious spots on your body last night, my sweet,” he said, “but I do admit your neck is still one of my favorites. Second only to your—”

“Okay, okay,” Áine interrupted quickly, her hands finding her flaming face but doing nothing to hide the way her blushing darkened the tips of her ears.

Astarion crumbled a little internally, finding her shyness as endearing as ever, especially now knowing how devilish she could be between the proverbial sheets. He smirked and asked, “Shall we get on? I want to go before anyone else thanks me for saving their tails.”

“Gods forbid a show of gratitude,” Áine commented with feigned scandal. “What would that do to your reputation?”

“Exactly, my dear! So glad you understand.”

Áine smiled to herself and shook her head as she got to her feet, brushing herself off. The change in perspective also shifted the way her eyes caught the light and they adjusted accordingly just as she returned her eyes to Astarion’s back…

…By the gods, what had happened to him?

Her lips parted in shock and her eyes narrowed as she tried to discern what the markings she could now see were. She’d thought for just a second that perhaps they were a sort of tattoo or even a brand, but they were very much scars. Purposeful, deeply rooted scars.

“Once again, she stares,” Astarion commented and Áine flushed with chagrin this time, immediately turning her eyes to the grass. She knew better than anyone with her own old injuries that sometimes the worst ghost pains were people asking questions about them that they shouldn’t. There was a beat of pause before Astarion seemed to realize her dilemma. He sighed and said, “You can ask, you know. I’m not exactly hiding them at the moment.”

Áine swallowed thickly and chanced a glance up at him as she gathered her clothes from the ground. “You needn’t tell me anything you don’t want to, but… What exactly are they?” she asked, donning her smallclothes and then pulling her trousers on after. 

Astarion sighed, deciding that speaking on this now couldn’t hurt. There was never a “correct” time to surface this sort of thing. “It’s a poem,” he told her honestly. “A gift from Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas.” He paused heavily, listening to the rustle of Áine’s clothes as she got dressed to help him ground his thoughts and evade the memories that threatened to sweep him back into those moldering kennels. “He…composed and carved that one over the course of a night… He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

The pain in his voice alone broke her heart in two. She wondered if his expression was as honest in this moment, if that was why he hadn’t turned around to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

Astarion’s brow pinched and he did turn to look at her then, finding her at arm’s length and as tempting as ever, standing there with her shirt on but still untied and her hair a glimmering tousled mess atop her lovely skull. His hands flexed against his sides as he resisted snatching her back up. It was a maddening feeling, to want her so much and be fearful of wanting her at all. “What for? You really must stop apologizing for things you had no hand in,” he said.

“I understand,” she said, beginning to try and work the tangles from her hair while they stood there conversing. When Áine’s eyes met his again, they shone with sunlight and her sincerity. “And I understand that it fixes nothing. But I… I hate what you’ve endured.” Áine pursed her lips. “And I wish I could do something better than tell you that I’m sorry for it.”

And you don’t know the half of it, Astarion thought, his brows knitting as he tried to decide how her sympathy made him feel. It was a complicated mess of irritation and appreciation that felt more knotted than her tresses. “Yes, well,” he said uncomfortably. “You’re right. It fixes nothing.” Áine internalized her embarrassment and the hurt that lanced through her, instead just nodding acknowledgment. This wasn’t about her, after all. Far be it from her to get upset that her words didn’t magically repair everything. “Anything else?”

Áine shrugged and gave up on her tangles, instead pulling her hair over one shoulder to make a manageable side ponytail to deal with the mess later. “Why is the poem in Infernal?”  

That, Astarion hadn’t been ready for. “Infernal? I… Who knows? The bastard was insane,” he said, quickly dismissing the question. “Anyway, enough pillow talk. Let’s go before the tieflings drag us into another mess.”

Áine watched him fetch his shirt before returning her attention to containing her pearly locks, feeling as though she’d thoroughly killed the morning mood. It wasn’t something she wasn’t used to doing, usually unintentionally, but as with everything so far her feelings around things to do with him proved more intense. That included the disappointment in herself at likely guaranteeing he wouldn’t be pursuing something like this with her again. 

Oh well, she sighed inwardly, but the casual nature of her thought didn’t mirror how she actually felt. Familiar and dismal, she wondered again why she was the way that she was. It really did seem to cause her nothing but grief when it came to these sorts of things. She supposed she just hoped he’d had a nice time up until their chat, that he’d gotten the bit of “fun” he’d been pining for out of it.

Áine finished knotting the leather tie around her hair and moved to the ties of her shirt next, only to find that Astarion had, at some point, moved to stand in front of her. Her hands paused against the strings and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He gave her a long, unreadable look, and she half-expected him to tell her they were better off keeping this as a one-night thing or scold her again for unhelpfully offering apologies or something to that effect. There was something beneath the surface of his expression that she just couldn’t quite see. 

Instead of any of those things, Astarion held eye contact with her as he replaced her hands at her shirt ties, lacing her back up. Áine stared back, feeling her face grow a little warm again. Would she ever get used to things like this from him? She had to imagine so, but every little touch from him felt like a gift. Especially given how touch-averse he seemed to be at times, each gesture felt intentional. 

With deft fingers, he finished tying her laces, polishing off his work with a small bow. Áine smirked and started to thank him, but he hooked a finger beneath the knot he’d made and tugged her into a kiss that smothered her words of gratitude before they left her mouth. Her hands reflexively rose from her sides to hold him, even just to rest against his arms, but he gracefully dodged her touch, looking smug when their eyes met again. At least she figured this meant he wasn’t too upset with what he saw as her excess sentimentality.

Offhand as he led the way back to camp, he innocently mused, “I wonder if anyone managed to get a wink of sleep last night despite your mewling…”

“You’re pushing your luck for this sort of thing ever happening a second time,” Áine informed him as she walked alongside him through the woods, toying with her hands to stifle her urge to try holding one of his or putting her arm around his waist despite his teasing. 

She was discovering that she was quite tactile in the way of affection once she had an emotional stake in a person and it was difficult to contend with that discovery while not being able to dote on her person of interest. Respecting him and his space was easy. Resisting the inclination to show him he was cared for with little touches here and there was proving trickier.    

“Am I?” Astarion wondered with clear doubt. “Pity. It’s swiftly becoming my favorite way to pass the dark hours. And you needn’t tell me so for me to know it’s just as appealing to you.” He’d leaned in toward her ear to whisper those last words and his cool breath against her sensitive skin sent a shiver through her that proved his point.

Áine glowered at him as he leaned away, looking mighty pleased with himself. “You know, that feels a little unfair,” she finally decided to point out, ever the one to be bold enough to bring up a hard topic. Even in an area she was very unfamiliar with it seemed.

Astarion glanced down at her. “Hm? What does?”

“That you’re able to enter my personal space on a whim, but I’m not—to my knowledge—allowed to do anything categorically similar,” she explained. “To be clear, I’m fine with you doing what you’ve been doing. And I’m also fine with whatever you’re comfortable or uncomfortable with for yourself. But some ground rules would be nice, I think.”

“You want ‘ground rules’?” Astarion repeated, bewildered as he tried to follow what she was saying. Was she asking his permission for something? To touch him? New things left, right, and center, he mused.

“Well…yes,” she said, becoming self-conscious but holding her ground. “I have inclinations but I’m too anxious to do anything because I’m worried about upsetting you.”

He looked at her consideringly, his lips becoming a thin line. “And what are your ‘inclinations’, my dear?” he asked in a measured tone. 

A not-distant-enough memory began nagging at the back of his mind. Of being grabbed and squeezed and fondled in all the ways and at all the times he didn’t want to be. Which, in fairness, he’d never wanted to be. It was a process, a means to an end. But the thought of her touch wasn’t an unpleasant prospect nor a necessary evil. He was no less apprehensive though—what if she surprised him in a bad way? What if she regarded him as some sort of plaything? 

Well, he could run what-ifs all day, but his mind had one consistent answer to all of those questions—he didn’t think she would.  

Áine met his thoughtful gaze with one of her own before she offered him one of her hands, palm facing up. He looked at it and then at her, not sure what she wanted him to do. When she recognized his hesitation as confusion, she instead reached out and gently took his hand, locking their fingers together after minimal fumbling. 

Astarion stared at their hands and waited for her to do something more—pin his arm back and use his defenseless position to grope him or use her grip to cause him enough pain to put him on his knees and there begin to make her threats and demands, all things that had happened to him before just without this much exposition. 

When she didn’t do anything else, he gave her a funny look that she took to mean he wasn’t a hand-holder by nature. Áine gave him an embarrassed smile and started to unthread her hand from his. “Silly things, I suppose, it’s fine if you—”

Áine quieted as Astarion followed the hand she’d attempted to extract, recapturing it and keeping it firmly in his. He craved her warm touch, her closeness as much as ever and she was simply allowing him some of that now with no strings attached. It was something he was aware of—he’d of course seen plenty of lovers in the city holding hands or linking arms and the like—but that had never been something meant for him. 

With as much hesitation as she’d yet seen him speak, Astarion studied their hands, unable to meet her eyes, and said, “...If you’re the one touching me, I don’t… I don’t think I’ll mind as much.”

A faint crease formed between her brows at hearing the vulnerable nature of this confession. Was he a master seducer who had never been shown affection? Or was something worse the cause of his anxiety? 

Slowly, Áine nodded and smoothed the pad of her thumb against his, something he’d remembered her doing the night before that he’d enjoyed in the moment. And she was just giving this to him again for free? He waited for the catch, but nothing came. Instead, she just said, “If it’s ever wrong or too much, you can tell me. In fact, I insist you do. And I’ll do the same. Fair enough?”

Astarion wasn’t entirely sure he believed that she wouldn’t be upset at all if he spurned her affections, but he was at least able to look at her this time as he nodded. “Alright,” he said.

Áine offered him a smile. “Thank you,” she said, and they kept walking like that, hand-in-hand. 

It was a strange sensation to Astarion—to Áine too but for vastly different reasons—and he kept occasionally tensing for the situation to flip. And it just didn’t. He just got to hold a little piece of her while they walked the rest of the way to camp, the little rhythm of her pulse occasionally tip-tapping against his silent wrist. They would occasionally readjust their fingers or he’d find Áine gently toying with his hand while her skin warmed his, but that was as far as the gesture went. And it felt…nice. Like they were part of something that was just them while still being allowed their own identities, their own freedoms. He could—with a surprising measure of confidence that she wouldn’t lash out at him or even bat an eye—let go right now if he wanted to.

And, by every single god he no longer believed in, he didn’t want to.

While everyone had still been passed out from the party the night before when Astarion and Áine finally made it back to the campsite and snuck back into their tents for a little extra rest before it was time to move out. It wasn’t near enough rest though before Áine was awakened by the sound of the refugees packing back up to make their way to Baldur’s Gate and she started to hear her own travel companions beginning to rouse and sort breakfast. 

The promise of food was what convinced her to leave her tent and join the others near the extinguished campfire, which she set to relighting while Gale sorted through their foodstuffs for anything worthy of a hangover. He greeted her when she sat down and took up the flint rock, and Áine didn’t notice the way his eyes fell to her neck and then darted away. 

“Did you enjoy the rest of your night?” he asked pleasantly enough, any poison in his words slow-acting in their sting.

“I did,” Áine said, managing not to blush and feeling invincible for it. “Did you?”

“Ended up tucked in for the night by the wine, but I’m no stranger to that, I suppose,” he chuckled. “We spent many a night back in Waterdeep with a dusty tome and a good vintage.”

“You and Mystra?” she asked in surprise. She wouldn’t have pegged a goddess for the “spending a night in” sort.

“Oh, no,” Gale chuckled. “Me and Tara. My assistant and my best friend. She’s a tressym.”

Áine’s eyes lit up. She’d never seen a tressym before in person but she’d seen illustrations of their likeness before. Astarion stepped out of his tent then and spotted the look on her face, nearly turning around and going back inside when he saw it was being gifted to Gale. “Is she back in Waterdeep then?” Áine asked, oblivious to her vampire’s plight.

“Yes, and better for it, I’d reckon,” Gale said emphatically as he started cooking some eggs and sausage. “I could never ask her to make this journey. She’s safer there.”

Áine nodded, feeling a wet nose bonk her arm and turning to see Scratch presenting her with his ball and a wagging tail. She wrestled the toy away from him and threw it across the camp, turning her attention back to Gale when the pup gave chase. “Then I’m glad she’s safe. You sound like you care a great deal for her,” she said.

“Very much,” Gale agreed. “She was the only one who stood by me after my condition began and worsened. Once we sorted out that magical artifacts seemed to help ease its intensity somewhat and I’d worked through the majority of powerful objects I’d collected in my tower over the years, she immediately went in search of whatever she could find.” His eyes softened in reflection. “I owe her a great deal and she’d scold me for saying so. You actually remind me of her, you know.”

Áine smirked, throwing Scratch’s ball again when he brought it back to her, wiping a bit of drool onto her pants. “Well, I’m flattered. She sounds brilliant.”

“You should come visit us in Waterdeep once this is all over,” he suggested. “Plenty of room. She’d likely adore the chance to play hostess as well.”

“Sounds delightful,” Astarion commented as he sat down next to Áine. “We’ll be there.”

“Great!” Gale said, thrilled at the prospect of company, it seemed. It wasn’t the reaction Astarion had expected to get and he almost felt bad for interrupting now. Almost. 

He looked over at Áine, knowing already what he’d find—eyes alight with amusement and a silent accusation of being jealous. Astarion found precisely that and sniffed dismissively in her direction while she stifled a laugh.  

“How are you faring this morning, Astarion?” Gale asked suddenly, plating some breakfast and handing it to Áine. “I thought I spotted you partaking in the wine at some point, unless that was blood I mistook for a red blend.”

“Technically both are red blends,” Astarion commented. “It was wine though—blood would’ve been preferable.”

“Can you taste wine properly then?” Gale asked as he sat down and started to eat as well. Their friends were slowly following the smell of cooked sausage out to the fire, each looking worse for wear than the last. “We’ve discussed food, so I figured wine may be a similar issue.”

Astarion sighed dismally. “Wine is a lost cause, too, I’m afraid. I’ve just yet to find it in myself to admit it for good. And I just have to try because what if this blend is different than that one or whathaveyou…,” he said.

“It’s too bad the tadpole couldn’t have lent you that back as well,” Áine mused. She cast a glance around the group now gathered around the fire and taking the breakfast Gale had made like medicine, but far more delicious. “Where’s Wyll? And Halsin?”

“Wyll ended up drinking with the best of them late last night,” Shadowheart said, looking a bit disheveled but smug at the prospect of someone ending up worse for wear than she had. “Even without the extra vintage,” she added quietly to Áine, who elbowed her arm. “I haven’t seen Halsin though.”

“He was packing up last I saw,” Karlach supplied through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

“Well, shit,” Áine muttered as she set her plate down and stood up. He owed her some answers before he managed to get away again. Thankfully she didn’t have too far to go—he was just walking across the camp and she was able to head him off not too far from the rest of the party. “Halsin! Were you just going to leave?”

“Only temporarily,” Halsin said. “I must square a few things away at the Grove before I join you on your journey.”

“Can you at least tell us where we need to go next?” Shadowheart asked from where she was seated nearby and Áine silently thanked her for being another voice asking for the information he’d promised them. She was starting to feel like she was badgering him, but she certainly wasn’t above doing so if it meant helping herself and her friends.

Halsin looked a little sheepish as he said, “Of course… But the journey will not be an easy one regardless of the path we take—there are routes leading through the mountain pass near here or alternatively via the Underdark. There were whispers of an entryway down into its depths under the Selunite temple where the goblins were taking up residence.”

“Was that why you went with Aradin and his crew?” Áine asked. “To try and find the Underdark route?”

“Precisely,” Halsin said. “Of the two routes, the Underdark will likely be the less treacherous to take, but it is ultimately up to you to choose your path.”

“The teeth…tiefling Zorru spoke of my people in proximity to the mountain pass,” Lae’zel interjected, giving Áine a meaningful look. “It is imperative that we seek their crèche. That we seek purification.”

“Where are these paths meant to converge exactly?” Áine asked, absently fiddling with the little bow at her shirt laces Astarion had left. “Maybe that can help us decide where we go from here. Or at least in what order maybe.” She’d added the last bit to appease Lae’zel, not wanting her to feel as though she wasn’t being heard.

And then Halsin said two words that Áine had hoped never to hear again.

“Moonrise Towers,” the druid answered. 

He’d singlehandedly turned her blood to ice and hadn’t the slightest clue. She wasn’t going to let him see it. Her face remained stoic, her arms still crossed over her chest while her fingertips toyed with one loop of the bow at her collar. The string was becoming akin to a worry stone, a touchpoint for grounding. 

Inside she was screaming. And not one person noticed the change apart from the vampire who could hear the way her heart skipped a beat and then began to thunder against her ribs.

Astarion heard the disturbance in her chest from where he still sat near the fire and he tried to read her expression from what little of her profile he could see, but she was as good as he was when it came to internalizing her feelings, it seemed. So much so that he started to second-guess himself, wondering if maybe she’d been startled by something he hadn’t seen or something to that effect. Astarion listened to her breathing, even and normal until he heard the faintest shudder on an inhale that he placed instantly. It was the same as when an intrusive thought or a familiar sight triggered memories for him and sent him spiraling, but he had to hold his composure.

Meanwhile, the blood roaring in Áine’s ears nearly prevented her from hearing what Halsin was saying, but she caught the gist of it all. The cultists were gathering at Moonrise and if anywhere held the secrets of their parasites’ origin, it would be there. “Then when can we expect you back from the Grove?” Áine asked. “Should we wait, would you rather catch up with us…?”

Astarion listened to her voice, not a tremble in her tone. It was like when he’d seen her pause her pitch-perfect singing the other night and turn around with tears still streaking down her face. It was no wonder she seemed so finely tuned to call him out on his masking—she did it, too.

“It will only take a half-day to do what I must do there,” Halsin reassured her. “Tying up loose ends and all that. I can return this very night.”

Áine nodded. “Great, we’ll wait for you here then,” she declared. “Thank you.”

“I can only hope that this gets you the answers you need, my friend,” Halsin said and, despite Áine’s momentary suspicions of his reasons for withholding information, she could see the genuine affection and concern in his eyes. That was more than enough for her in these far too-interesting times.

“Only one way to find out,” she said, waving as he headed out of the camp to consult with the druids back at the grove. The tieflings had gone before they’d even had breakfast prepared, so it was just their usual crew left in the camp now. 

Áine’s heart still hammered in her chest and she felt her hands begin to shake where she’d stuffed them under her arms. A high-pitched yelp from near her feet startled her, but she looked down and found only Scratch standing there, his ball placed before her on the dirt. She managed a weak smile and snatched up his ball, winging it across the clearing before she realized she needed to make herself scarce lest she have a panic attack out of seemingly nowhere in front of the very people who expected her to lead them.

It was an opportune time for her that a very hungover Wyll chose that moment to stumble out of his tent into the glaring sunlight and a loud “wahey!” of jeering applause from their friends. Áine was able to slip away, back into her tent, and she nearly collapsed inside the moment she did. 

Her knees hit one of the throw pillows when she went down, her face buried in her hands while her nails bit into her tender temples. Áine bit down the violent urge to scream, clamping her palms against her mouth when she started to lose that battle and managing to contain it to a low whine instead. Godsforsaken fucking Moonrise, she repeated in her mind, screwing her eyes shut and feeling them burn as hot as her chest. Would she never escape that horrible place and the sickly shadows surrounding it? The onset of ceremorphosis felt like a better option.

Áine drew in breath after shuddering breath, each more deeply and slowly than the last as she tried to calm herself down before someone came looking for her. Speak of the devil, she heard footsteps approaching and then someone cleared their throat just outside. 

Just go away, she prayed desperately, biting her trembling lower lip.

“Áine?” Astarion inquired, sounding the faintest bit hesitant. Gods, why did it have to be him? And why did her name have to sound so good from his lips? It just made her want to curl up in his lap until she felt better and she couldn’t think of anything worse to put him through than for her to ask for his emotional support.

She swallowed hard and asked in response, “Yes?”

He paused at length. “May I come in?” he asked at last. 

Please. 

Áine could tell he sensed something was wrong, which unnerved her, so she tried to reply in a way that felt like normal banter. “I thought you didn’t need permission to enter homes anymore,” she said.

Astarion wasn’t buying it, it seemed. “I don’t, darling. Still, may I?”

The bard sat stone-still for a long moment until she finally said, “...I think I need a few minutes to myself. Can we talk after?” He couldn’t see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to, but especially not him. 

There was a beat of silence from the other side of the canvas before she heard him say, “Of course,” punctuated by his receding footsteps. When those steps faded into the background sounds she heard from the others still near the fire, Áine’s shoulders slackened and she smoothed her ponytail with nervous hands. 

Moonrise Towers. Could she return and not lose everything she’d scrapped and pieced together of herself since the dawn she left? Did he still live? Did they all still live? 

Would she live through it a second time?

For reasons he still fruitlessly tried to deny, it had hurt him when she’d turned him away. He even understood quite well, he thought, what she was experiencing. Would he have been in her place, he would have turned her away too, and likely with less grace. And it still ate at him that he hadn’t been permitted to check on her.

For what? He knew she was safe, uninjured, and simply taking a rest in her tent. The mood of the camp was calm and unbothered. He, by all accounts, should have taken the free time just to settle in at his tent and parse through one of the books he’d snatched up from the temple ruins between rounds with the goblin cultists. Yet there he was, wearing a rut in the dirt near his tent while he waited to see or hear any signs of Áine stepping back outside.

Astarion wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been sequestered in her tent, but it had been longer than a few minutes. He’d seen Shadowheart wander over to her tent door as well only to be turned away as he had. When the cleric had looked his way, first suspiciously and then imploringly, Astarion had simply shrugged in reply. He hated not knowing.

It had to have something to do with Moonrise Towers. He’d heard her pulse quicken and her breath hitch not seconds after he’d uttered the name. But Astarion had never heard of the place before and had no context for what it could mean to her. Or did he?

That vision of Áine in gleaming armor crossed through his mind’s eye again, a vision hand-delivered by her tadpole to his the night he’d first bitten her. Had she served there, before he’d met her, before the tadpole? Her hair had been cropped short in the vision, so it couldn’t have been that recent. A few years ago, however, was a possibility. 

What he could only approximate to be a half-hour or so later, Áine emerged from her tent, looking tired but no worse for wear. Astarion watched her cast a wary glance around the camp, seeming relieved at what she found before her eyes found him. She smiled when they locked gazes and the kind expression touched her eyes, which brought him more relief than he felt was due. Something was clearly still bothering her, but she at least seemed in better spirits.

Taking the smile as an invitation, Astarion approached her and parted his lips to speak when an acrid smell passed through his nose. He scowled in disgust, not realizing the scent hadn’t reached Áine’s less sensitive senses yet until she asked, a bit amused, “A fine greeting—do I offend?”

“No more than usual, my dear,” he ribbed her, earning her signature glare. “You can’t smell that?”

Áine inhaled deeply, this time catching the same odor he had. Her features contorted but she inhaled again, trying to understand what she was smelling. “What in the gods—”

“Well met, stranger,” said a strange voice. Áine and Astarion both turned to see an approaching man holding what appeared to be some sort of thurible with thin tendrils of smoke winding from its grating. It appeared to be the source of the horrific, sickly-sweet scent. “Ah, forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine—old hunter’s trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me while this holds up.”

“Most anything may avoid that,” Áine remarked, coughing against the back of her hand. “Sorry, who are you?”

“A Gur, it would seem,” Astarion interjected, an edge to his voice. “Funny to imagine one of your ilk as a monster hunter… I thought you were all vagrant cutthroats.”

Áine gave Astarion a look. “Must we?” she chastised him.

“No, no, your friend is right,” the man said tiredly. “We also steal chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… The list goes on. Would that I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer. And monster hunter, of course. My name is Gandrel.”

“Well met,” Áine said. “What exactly are you hunting out this way?”

“I seek a vampire spawn, so nothing that may charge us in this daylight hour,” Gandrel said. Áine’s stomach twisted, wondering what the odds were just before the monster hunter answered her question outright. “His name is Astarion, but I fear he’s gone to ground… There is a hag nested in these lands that I am hoping can help me flush him out. If I can afford her blood price, that is.”

Áine could feel Astarion tense beside her. As she’d just spent the past combined hour metering her expressions and concealing her true feelings, she was nicely warmed up for this by her estimation. “Bold to go toe-to-toe with a hag,” Áine commented warily. “What are you meant to do if you find this ‘Astarion’? Kill him?”

“Desperate times and all that,” Gandrel admitted before answering her question. “Not this time though. My orders are to capture him.”

“And bring him where exactly?” Astarion asked.

“Baldur’s Gate,” Gandrel said. “My people wait for me there. I don’t suppose you’ve seen any trace of such a creature in your travels ‘round these parts?”

“I couldn’t say,” Áine said. With a faint smugness that likely came off to Gandrel as overconfidence only, she asked, “Should we be worried? With him only being a spawn after all?”

Astarion took the bait immediately. “I don’t know… I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it,” he mused, his words as pointed as the fangs he was being careful to keep obscured. Áine bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking at him.

“Your friend is right, unfortunately,” Gandrel said, oblivious to their wordless exchange. “They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage, but at night, when they hunt… Well, you will not find a more deadly quarry.” He frowned toward Áine. “If you’ve not already made it practice, it would be wise to post guards at night until you leave the area. The threat is very real.”

“Indeed, it is,” Astarion said gravely. “We should do something about this…threat.”

Áine scoffed at him before smiling pleasantly at Gandrel. “We will be careful. Thank you for the warning,” she said.

“That’s it?!” Astarion demanded of her, causing Gandrel to look his way in confusion. Godsdammit, Áine swore silently. “We’re just done here then?”

“Of course,” Áine said. To Astarion to cover his tempestuous outburst, she added, “No need to fret, we’ll be careful. I can take the first watch tonight if that will make you feel better.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gandrel said with a nod of approval. “Go in peace, my friends. I hope our paths cross again.”

“They’d better bloody not,” Astarion muttered so only Áine could hear.

“You, too,” Áine said, watching the monster hunter as he retreated. When Astarion’s hackles went up and he turned on her, she raised a hand, still watching Gandrel’s retreat. After he was out of sight, she looked at Astarion and groaned. “Alright, go.”

“If this comes back to bite us, it’s on your head,” he gritted.

“He’s no threat to us unless he figures out who you are,” Áine said. “Which is unlikely since he’s seen you in the daytime now.” She looked at him speculatively. “Any idea who sent him?”

“Cazador,” Astarion spat. “It has to be him. Only he would know to send a Gur after me.”

“Why would that be poignant?” Áine asked.

Astarion blew out an angry sigh. “Because it was the Gur who left me to bleed out in the streets the night that bastard offered me an escape from death…,” he muttered.

“So he did it to taunt you, you think?” she asked.

“I do,” he murmured. Astarion growled low in his throat as he glanced back the way Gandrel had left. “I cannot believe you would let him walk!”

Áine frowned. “Like I said, he hasn’t a clue who you are. And besides that, would it not help Cazador to pinpoint where you are should one of his lackeys suddenly perish in the area? Surely this one can’t be the only one out looking.” Astarion grimaced down at her. “Look, if he comes back, you can kill him, alright?”

“Oh, thank you for your consideration,” he sneered, dripping in sarcasm.

Áine was baffled by his kicking and screaming. “You do know you don’t need my permission to do a damn thing, don’t you?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “Go kill him if you want to.”

Astarion gave her a long angry and considerate look before he snarled out a sigh and shook his head, stalking off to his tent. Áine watched him go and exhaled the breath she’d been holding, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Who was that?” Shadowheart asked as she sidled up to stand beside Áine, her hands resting on her hips. She cast her gaze back toward Astarion disappearing into his tent. “And why is he in a mood?”

“Some monster hunter that’s looking for our vampire,” Áine sighed, rubbing her temples which still throbbed a little from where her nails had dug in. “He’s mad because I didn’t outright stab him in the eye, I suppose. But we had the conversation in broad daylight, so I assumed we wouldn’t have to cover our tracks. Yet, anyway.” Shadowheart gave a noncommittal hmph. Áine looked at her. “Do you think I should’ve?”

“I don’t know,” she said simply. “Your logic tracks though. Who sent him?”

Áine wasn’t sure how much of what he’d told her about Cazador was meant to be between them, so she said, “His old master. To capture though, not kill.”

“Odd,” Shadowheart murmured. “I wonder why. I’ve never heard of a vampire going to so much trouble over a spawn.”

“Worries me more than a kill order would have,” Áine said, running her hand over the back of her neck and realizing how lucky it was that she’d had her ponytail on the side of her neck he’d bitten the night before, effectively covering the marks. Properly anxious now, she decided she’d stay up for guard duty that night.

“I think it’s good that you didn’t kill him yet, for what it’s worth,” Shadowheart said. “We won’t be in the area for much longer anyway if all goes to plan. Let them wander in circles. And if they come back—”

“Let them bleed,” Áine finished for her. 

“I’d meant to ask how your night went, you know,” Shadowheart pointed out. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “So?”

Áine sighed and glanced toward Astarion’s tent. “Moot at this point, it seems,” she murmured. Her gaze returned to Shadowheart. “But it was nice.” 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

The sadness in his eyes as he’d said those words resurfaced in her memory. There was much more she didn’t yet know, she was sure. Whether or not he decided to talk about it at some point remained in his hands.

“He’ll come around,” the cleric reassured her, mistaking the sadness in Áine’s face for fretting about the state of her new dynamic with Astarion. “I expect details when you’re more in the mood to share.”

Áine smirked and shook her head as Shadowheart retreated, looking down as Scratch trotted up to her. “Hi, buddy,” she sighed, kneeling to pet him when she saw he was holding something in his mouth. “What do you have there?”

Scratch’s tail swished as he carefully placed his prize on the ground, whimpering toward her hands as if asking her to take it. Áine’s brow creased when she saw what it was. “Did you swipe my mint pouch?” she chuckled, picking up the familiar knit bag. “Why did you—” 

She looked into Scratch’s large brown eyes, finding something akin to worry there, and her words trailed off. Áine looked back down at the bag, pursing her lips. She always did grab a little sprig when she needed to clear her head. So much so that apparently even their canine companion had noticed. 

She smiled faintly and looked at Scratch again, giving him a loving pat on the head. “Thanks, boy.”

Next chapter: Chapter 12, "Bergamot & Rosemary"

A/N: Two things. Number one, I'm very excited to write this next chapter as scenes from it were what finally gave me the inspo kick to write this whole thing. 🥰 Hopefully I do them justice in the end.

Secondly, Act 1's canon will round out at about Chapter 18 and I'll be taking a break to do some outlining for Act 2 after that point. So I'm not gone-gone! Just might take a bit before another chapter crops up. Thank you so much for reading! x

[koifishart]

I want to be Your Koi Fish - Nine Tails

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>26<

While waiting for his wife to sort things out with Orochi, he watched more duels. They were interesting, he couldn't deny that. Women turned out to be very inventive in the fight, using not only their strength, but also the opponent's weight. Amazing craftsmanship. Another contestant was just leaving, a red ponytail and a shiny blouse flashed before his eyes, when he heard a terrible bang. One of the partition walls crumbled, Katsumi fell out from behind it and an angry Hanabi came out.

- And if you dare to insult my husband again, or point out his lack of care, believe me, it won't stop at one wall. - she snarled dryly, and he thought he sensed a note of satisfaction. - I'll fuck you to the afterlife.

He grunted in appreciation. He hadn't expected his wife to be so hard on the matter. He glanced quickly at the screen, then waved his hand at her.

- Hana, Shizuka is coming to the Arena. - he said, completely ignoring the still confused karateka. - Come on!

She ran over, immediately turning her gaze to the beginning of the fight. He felt a small arm slipping between shirt and jacket, wrapping around his waist, hooking a finger on the waistband of his trousers. If he remembered correctly, the red-haired Miss Soga was a pacifist, so what was she doing at the tournament? Like the rest of her siblings, she was a master swordsman, but what if she couldn't use a weapon? Her opponent did not impress with height, she was rather similar, but visibly more muscular and aggressive. She was amused by Shizuka's cute appearance, which her sister-in-law didn't seem to pay attention to. As soon as the first blow flew in her direction, she did a neat somersault to the side, and a moment before landing on her legs, she curled around her own axis, undercutting her opponent's legs. Agile and finesse stood on the ground waiting for a reaction. This one came quite quickly, a small woman, remembering the previous attack, tried to reach the red-haired girl's legs and block them, but the sister-in-law swerved out with a dance step, serving another roundhouse kick, sending her opponent to the other end of the arena with force. This was not what he had expected from the by far sweetest of his wife's sisters, even though he had seen her personally extricate herself from the clutches of one of the fugitives. The announcer did not fail to comment on this.

- This has never happened in this Arena! - he howled happily. - Does the pretty and charming Soga Shizuka know Brazilian martial arts?!

- If only... - Hanabi replied. - Capoeira, ju-jitsu, tai-chi... She loves everything that is airy and apparent. The more fluent the style, the more willing she is to learn it.

- You always said she was against violence, didn't you? - Hanayama was surprised.

- "Pacifist" and "defenceless" aren't synonyms, honey. - she explained.

They looked at the screen again. It was over. Shizuka's opponent gave up the fight. Chiharu was already waiting in the corridor, and in the stands around him the inseparable, screaming Tokkoutai gang. Cameras caught the woman throwing herself into his arms, placing a kiss on his cheek.

- Yui is next. - the wife murmured softly. - It will be a slaughter.

She wasn't wrong. The muffled sound of the drum starting the fight was enough for the opponent of the black-haired master of the niten-ichi-ryu school to jump at her at high speed, and she moved away a bit so that, as if she was playing with a rag doll, she knocked her out in a few moves, knocking her into the ground. Scary, especially since she didn't seem to have used much force. The referee immediately declared the winner and Yui headed to Seryuu's corner.

- My Yang is walking over dead bodies. - Hanabi nodded silently. - To me.

>>><<<

There was no doubt that both of them were equally fed up with Grandpa's whining about which one of them should take over the school. For them, the matter was clear, only he could not adapt. Hanabi decided to remove herself, and since that didn't work...Yui challenged her. She saw that look in the direction of the camera. She knew exactly where to look, they sensed each other. After a while, she was back in the waiting room with Shizuka. They approached Mr. and Mrs. Hanayama to watch more fights. They weren't particularly spectacular from their point of view. All the more likely it could turn out that Yin and Yang would face each other in the final. It wasn't long before they called out Hana again, but the next fight wasn't as challenging as she'd expected. She was back before she knew it, and another woman was filling the line in the treatment room, waiting for her wounds to be sutured. It was no different with the next opponent, Mrs. Lieutenant. However, it turned out that Shizuka's second match could be a real challenge. It was enough for them to enter the arena - the difference is visible to the naked eye. Compared to the almost two-meter-tall blonde with a charming face, whose biceps resembled a head rather than an arm, the 175 cm red-headed pacifist was quite meager, despite her wide hips. Hanabi sensed her older sister standing next to her.

- Oh, she won't come out whole... - she muttered gloomily, crossing her arms over her chest. - Testosterone boosters and steroids...

She was right. It was hard. Shizuka went to the most drastic methods and techniques she knew, and the hardened Norwegian kept getting up. Both were dripping blood from fresh wounds. The cup of bitterness overflowed when the huge opponent broke one of Miss Soga's slender fingers. The redhead fell into a wild fury, slashing with successive blows, to finally wrap around the blonde, dislodge both shoulder joints and, jumping down, hit the solar plexus. Even such a big woman didn't stand a chance. She fell on her face and the audience roared with joy, chanting the name of the staggering woman.

The paramedics managed to bandage her fracture and she herself joined the family when Tokugawa himself appeared among them. He was trembling with excitement, almost like when the fights were between his fighters and the sumo wrestlers.

- Really, I did not expect such emotions! - He crowed happily, running up to the redhead. - A beautiful fight, in style!

- And so far the last in my career. -  Shizuka replied with a smile.

- WHAT?! But why?! - groaned the distraught organizer.

- I only went into the fights out of curiosity, which was satisfied. Nothing else keeps me ranked, and you don't want my next match to be a scam or forfeit, do you, Gouroukou-san? - she murmured, using one of those looks you can't refuse. - That would be a very un-exciting solution. Please give my place to someone else. Thank you.

- I wholeheartedly support! - Chiharu replied, still surrounded by a wreath of girls, gently embracing their mother with his arm.

- Take it easy, Tokugawa-san. The last fight will satisfy your cravings. - old Soga replied loudly, putting his hands into the sleeves of the haori, looking suggestively at the two youngest granddaughters. - I swear. Yui is the only one who can bring out Hanabi's full potential. Little Fox will win, I'll bet all my money on it!

He left with the owner of the Arena, and Hanabi silently agreed with him. Yes, it will be an exciting match. However, he will not allow for the result that grandfather dreamed of.

_________________________________

*memory that is a fragment of one of the special chapters - Tenko Kitsune

** Goroukou - [jap.] Noble Elder; title bestowed as a sign of respect;

[chi-haku]

its 5-star day!!!! which means i get to do my fave thing and rank the album based exclusively on my first listen. ive only heard all of these once with the exception of the title so these are just first thoughts. my rankings always change insanely after like a week (looking at my maxident rankings im always like …weird!!)

rankings of the album below the cut!

1. fnf - oh my god i cant believe theyre singing abt five nights at freddys… this song is genuinely so good though; it makes me feel the same joy as i cant stop or the view does upon first listen. its emotional but its danceable, its got everything.

2. collision - THIS SONG WASNT EVEN RLLY ON MY RADAR AS A POTENTIAL FAVORITE?? (talk abt a collision haha!!) but dare i say it is actually my favorite?? (edit: its actually my second favorite) its a really fun track; this is one i would hope would get a dance tbh bcuz i think itd look really cool

3. topline - this song is such an ear worm its been stuck in my head before it even came out; it simultaneously serves cunt and bad ass at the same time; tiger jks verse eats. love the vocals in it too, and the BOM DIGGY DIGGY BOM BOM BOM BOM. its a rlly fun enjoyable song def gonna be on my list of faves

3. youtiful - i thought it was gonna be cringe which it kinda is but its also heartwarming and a bit sad. it would probably rank a bit higher if it didnt have some tough competition but ‘the universe in ur eyes’??? UGH IM BASHING MY HEAD INTO A WALL SCREAMING OK ITS CHEESY BUT ITS ALSO GREAT. our first tie because in making this these two kept switching ranks over and over

4. DLC - ok dlc standing for dance like crazy is so cute. this song makes me wanna just vibe and have a great time; just dont listen to the lyrics they make me a bit sad just a little bit. also the pre chorus whisper with a harmony right underneath? YES PLZ. eating this for breakfast this is so good

5. hall of fame - WOAH! early on i was like oh its nice but maybe not my fave until the kinda tron-ish break down before the chorus its kinda hypnotic—ONE SMALL STEP FOR MAN ONE GIANT LEAP FOR MANKIND made me giggle lol—the instrumental of this song is v interesting i like it a lot (this was actually below #6 for a hot second before i made a last minute call)

6. superbowl - you whisper in a song and thats it for me it kills me sorry!! someone said this is god menu pt 2 and it is its so good (i dont care that the lyrics are goofy i love it) this ones rank was shakey until the end that rlly sold it for me. noticing a trend of rlly strong outros on this album

6. get lit - i rlly struggled with this and superbowls ranks so theyre getting the same rank. skz knows how to make an amazing party song fr. i love a lil edm moment i wish they would do even more like side effects level breakdown

7. s-class - okay this song is a bit all over the place but kind of in a way that fucks; like its a mess in a way that if would blow my mind to play a shooter too! i do love IN’s breakdown he gets i LOOOOVE his voice. also the last bit before the end starting at like 2:35 to the end kinda reminds me of og skz in a way i rlly enjoy

8. item - really like the instrumentals they r playing w this album. im kinda predicting that this will be the song on the album that grows on me a lot; i really enjoy the breakdown towards the end and the videogame core of it all

honorable mentions (i dont rank previously released songs!!):

the sound - i didnt like this song like at all when it came out but it IS better in korean.

time out - we know her, we love her, she cant be in the rankings because she would top them and im biased cuz i listen to it all the time!

[getindumdums]

YES! Ok where to start- It's a horror and comedy series with major influences from shows like the Powerpuff Girls, Dexter's Lab, Looney Tunes, and Invader Zim!

"Kids Can Too!"

In the ciiiity of Wickedville! Lies avenues who's shadows are shadowed with crime, conspiracies, and something in its corners that may be a lot less human. Where the two weird kids on the block, Staxx and Cassidy, over hear the corrupt Mayor denying his involvement with the local laboratory. Wanting to be heroes, they decide to investigate only to find themselves in a spiraling mystery that gets more dangerous the further they venture. Experiments, monsters, and an evil dancing robot that sings at the center of it all. Uncovering the buried mysteries of Wickedville just got a lot more frightening. And deadly.

Staxx is calm, cautious (mute), smart and very sweet kid, with a love for horror, monsters and his creepy pets Zelt (a cat-maybe-dog thing) and chompers (a fish that bites)! Making puppets and nicknack devices, and plans. He has a hard time being bold, especially when it comes to his dreams of being a hero and artist.

Luckily he has Cassidy to help him brave it all. Despite his cautious, sometimes almost timid nature, it goes out the window the moment he sees something monstrous. He can't help but want to give them a hug! ...Like Flitz and his minions. And this is probably because of his mom, Mystery! (Name unknown) A black ghost, an entity that hides in the shadows.

Cassidy is rambunctious, overzealous, and dreams of becoming a spy. She knows every Houdini escape move, and spy trick. Film noir and detective work? She loves it! And she's thrilled about the idea of danger. Guarded, she's hesitant to trust just about anyone. (Unless you just so happen to be a weirdo with similar interests, like a kid who lives next door with a ghost for a mom.) She's smart. But rash.

Luckily she has Staxx to reel her in when her 'tough' persona goes too far. In the mean time. She has no problem throwing a few insults Flitz's way.

Mystery is sharp with a violent temper. Protective. You don't want to be facing the end of her claws. She tries to get the kids not to do anything too dangerous. (But is more than willing to step in cause of a certain robot if they just so have happened to ignore her attempts already.)

Flitz (Voice, Hopefully: Danny Elfman) is a singing, dancing robot always moving and smiling! The producers won't be able to afford his animation! But don't let his cute face fool you. He's a smart and competent villain with a plan to eradicate all of humanity! All for his precious little doggies~! He has a heart of gold for every animal! And is fully in control of his actions. Although he is easily distracted... Broken and falling apart, he just needs a few upgrades to achieve his plans~.

Staxx and Cassidy will have their hands full, trying to stop a foe able to warp reality as if this was all a cartoon! All while being chased during a few eerie rock numbers~!

Minions/Daughters

Sophie- Wolf Lion- Leader of pack, stern, vengeful, big sister. Insists on lobster for dinner. Cat behaviors. (Why does she have a mane? Because she looks cool that's why.) Stands closest to dad's side.

Daisy- Wolf Alligator- Hyperactive, youngest, good girl. Doesn't always know what going on. Chews on tires. Makes friends with everybody who doesn't scream and run from her.

Zoey- Wolf Porcupine- Shy, quiet, timid. Likes to "paint". Strong distaste for humans. And balloons.

Viola- Wolf Cobra- Vain, loves looking at herself in the mirror, likes to smile, enjoys 'stalking prey like dad does'. Has a 'knitted bed' with one hole to crawl in.

George (Squid? Cephalopod?)- Flitz's right hand man/assistant. Robotic mannerisms, very logical. Keeps Flitz focused, on track, and his plans 'reasonable/plausible' based on current resources. Seems emotionless, isn't. Would be a great leader, if it didn't terrify him. Likes to fish and read. They watch movies on the couch. And sleep next to each other. George in a vat of water, and Flitz charges next to him with a chord on the floor.

Has a laser in his collar like device. And can 'turn invisible' and colors.

Plot B./ Side Characters:

The Mafia Husbands. Mich (Voice: Undecided) and Greg (Voice, Hoepefully: Sung Won). What’s better than the big, quiet “muscle” and the short, hot tempered comedic-criminal duo? Having them actually be married to each other! Mich and Greg like robbing banks and taking orders from the boss. But have a love so sweet and pure they'd kill for each other! So watch it! >:( Perhaps they don't always know what's going on. But they're good at what they do and like giving Detective Raker a run for his money. Peepers is their pet crow that helps them steal 'shiny things'. He likes Greg and fights with Mich.

Kenny Thompson (Voice, Hopefully: Tom Kenny). When we first meet Kenny, he is a scientist for the East end Wickville Laboratory. Unaware of their ulterior motives. And unfortunately not only loses his job as a scientist, but any job after! This poor man is always down on his luck. But he keeps his chin up and always keeps trying. He is the sweetest man on Earth, a real heart of a hero, giving the little he can to whoever needs it. And has a feel for the 'heroic dramatics'. Luckily, his story doesn't end here.

K.C. (Kasey Celvin). Shy with a horrible stutter. KC is Kenny's best friend! The two have been friends for years. Even when Kenny has had a rough day, he can rely on KC to hold him up. Letting him stay after the bookstore has closed. KC isn't just quiet however, get them angry or feeling confident, and they become a completely different person! And you'll see why everyone around finds them Hot! Oh my!

Mayor Richard Penwood. Imagine the most pretentious, irritable, 2-face, greedy, conservative old man. With a bunch of loyal followers. He's an idiot, regardless of how 'regal' he sounds. And a real problem. Be wary as the people believe his lies. Even if said lies are presented more like a salesman's pitch. Likes candy, and stealing it from children.

(Characters copyrighted by me cause I love them.)

You reblogged the line up of the 87 turtles for Get in Dum Dums… is that potentially a sign we’ll be getting chapter 4 soon?? If it is then that’s so so awesome and I’m so excited. If it’s not, I’m still excited for whenever it does come and btw I really hope you’re enjoying writing it as much as I enjoyed reading it the first time and will no doubt enjoy rereading it soon !! I hope you have a nice day/night!!

Unfortunately no. My state’s heat is making my brain turn to mush here. But! I can show you a preview! I did want to show off that I am making… progress… of sorts. Look I have 2 documents with 1,000+ combined words, and it’s all disorganized. At least it SHOULD be smooth-ish sailing afterwards.

Starting off with a misunderstanding because I thought that’s be interesting. :)

[spacedlexi]

Question, what made you ship Violentine? I personally liked how Violet was rightfully suspicious of Clem and AJ but still accepted them, and grew to like them. Along with the fact, no matter what, during the Marlon confrontation, she will stand up for Clem and Aj. Also her making a pin for clem, dancing with her, and star gazing (just off the top of my memory) was really cute, she is also just really badass.

yes to all of that 🥺💕 i liked violet in the first episode and the little development we get between her and clem is nice, how they can both relate to each other about their losses and how they are seeming to find comfort in each other during their talks in the dorm and while fishing (especially if you mend her relationship with brody she really relaxes). but i think what really solidified the actual relationship for me was in the beginning of episode 2 when violet realizes everyone is about to Jump this Child and immediately without hesitation stands in the middle against her friends and community to protect this little boy who just killed their leader, because he is a Little Child and everyone needs to Calm Down, and marlons hands werent so clean either. for the rest of the episode she stands against all of her friends to defend clem and aj and she does all of this regardless of your choices up until this point so it wasnt like it was determinate based on how nice to her you were

then she falls into the open leadership position, that she doesnt even want, because no one else steps up to do so and Someones gotta do it because otherwise the group will fall apart and it is already splitting at the seams. she quickly becomes someone clem can rely on (she'll even shoot lilly if you fail to pick an option), and clem becomes someone violet can rely on as well as she helps violet with keeping the group together and trying to smooth things over after marlons death. violet goes from being a loner who has dreams of leaving the school because she just never felt like she belonged there, to becoming its leader and does her best to keep everyone safe (and beats herself up hard about it if she fails), and then ending with leading the school side by side with clem. co leader badass girlfriends

i left s3 Very Opinionated that i Did Not Want ANY romance options for clem because i didnt think theyd ever be able to pull it off. so i had the bar set Pretty High. but violet ended up being exactly what i wanted in a love interest for clem. theyre very evenly matched. similar attitudes and goals and maturity level, their ability to relate to each other and what theyve been through (vi is very s3 clem at the beginning of s4, feeling like shes lost the only people she cares about and has walled herself off to other connections), violet stands up for both clem and aj without hesitation because its the right thing to do, and shes tough as nails. she grows a lot between the beginning and end of the season she really comes into herself as a leader especially if you friend/romance her. she is also So in love with clem and cares about her so deeply. hearing her plead if you tell lilly youll join her if she lets everyone else go you can hear in her voice how much the idea of that hurts her because she Cant Lose Clem like shes lost others (props to gideon adlon for doing such a great job voicing her)

ALSO one of my favorite scenes where minnie and clem are fighting and vi shoots minnie to save clems life i love it. the Gay Drama of it all shooting your ex to save your new gf but still not having the heart to leave her (again) makes me go like this every time

also their romance lock in scene is Incredible....Perfect...Spectacular.. their entire romance from that scene on is just so cute they are such a good match for each other. they both make the other feel like they have someone they can rely on without hesitation. AND shes so good with aj. treats him with respect, is kind patient and understanding with him, tries to make him feel less scared and more confident. like when theyre putting the walker guts on and she kneels down to be eye level with him and tell him hes doing a good job and she looks up at clem reassuringly and clem smiles back AUGH!!! thats what im TALKING ABOUT!!! clem needs someone that not only She can rely on but also someone she can trust that aj can rely on as well and vi is that person!!! AAHH

[seijorhi]

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand. 

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected. 

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby. 

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute. 

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’. 

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind. 

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency. 

Hizashi was not, and so here they are. 

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness. 

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you. 

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd. 

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks. 

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them. 

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent. 

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :( 

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him. 

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself. 

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm? 

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy. 

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it. 

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off. 

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him. 

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would. 

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either. 

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.” 

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.” 

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause. 

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face. 

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight. 

It bothers him. 

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no. 

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?” 

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly. 

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump. 

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless. 

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach. 

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run –  and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick. 

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace. 

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least. 

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true. 

It’s just not the entire reason. 

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length. 

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong. 

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them. 

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with. 

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side. 

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust. 

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch. 

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more. 

He wants all of you. 

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them. 

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder. 

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own. 

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too? 

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them. 

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open. 

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you. 

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy. 

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue. 

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants. 

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss. 

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

[bayisdying]

Imagine being Phoenix's best friend and falling for Bob.

You and Natasha met in kindergarten, she liked your backpack and you liked her ponytail.

Instant besties.

Where one went the other followed.

She did Girl Scouts so you did Girl Scouts

You did dance so she joined dance

Literally did everything together.

Sleepovers? Always.

Anyways you two grow up and when she joins the Navy it's the first time in your lives that you don't follow her.

Tears, sooooo many tears as she left you behind.

You went to college for psychology instead. Top of your class.

You were there for the newly minted Phoenix when she graduated from the Naval Academy (and then again Top Gun)

And Phoenix went to your college graduation too.

Everytime she comes home, she sees her parents first and you second.

Hugs soooo many hugs.

She invites you to San Diego where she is currently stationed, and my God do you need a vacation.

When your plane lands and you step into the airport, there's your best friend in the flesh holding a sign that says "Y/N or Bust"

HUGS AND TEARS.

She doesn't allow you time to rest, she drags your ass to this cute little bar on the beach.

She introduces you to all the pilots she flies with

And like they are all hot as hell?

Like girl how do you work with these men and not fall in love?

Anyways, as much as you like Hangman and Rooster showboating for your attention. You personally find yourself instantly pulled towards the man Phoenix called Bob.

He seemed shy and sweet, the total opposite of the other men in the bar.

You two sat and watched as the others played pool and darts.

Phoenix knows that look on your face and smirks. Of course her best friend would fall for her backseater. It's almost like it's fate (or just Bay's great writing skills ayyyyooo)

But you see how close they seem and even though Phoenix hasn't told you about having a boyfriend you can see they care about each other. You're pretty sure they are together.

At the end of the night Bob ends up driving the two of you to Phoenix's house off base.

And like he was even nice enough to make you guys glasses of water, advil, and snacks?

Gentleman. Pure gentleman.

You and Phoenix sleep in the same bed just like when you were kids.

When you wake up, Bob is there with coffee?

"Damn Phoenix, your boyfriend is super sweet."

They both laugh and you are all *confused*

"Babe, Bob is my backseater and my best Navy friend."

Bob blushes deep ass red yo, because he finds you super hot (and babe you are so fine)

Phoenix gets an idea and man you're going to hate her.

Your entire vacation you are on the beach or at the Hard Deck with the gang.

And somehow you and Bob always get paired up?

Like it never fails?

Then on your last night they throw you a going away party.

And Phoenix suggests playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

"What are we five?"

"Well you are Bagman."

"Touché"

And huh. When it's your turn, it magically lands on Bob.

So you two are locked in the closet together.

And man it's a tight squeeze.

Like your head is laying on his chest and your legs are kinda tangled trying to be comfortable

"We don't have to kiss you know, it's just a stupid gam-"

You cut him off with the sweetest kiss.

He totally is shook and blushes hard-core.

"Can we do that again?"

"Please."

Literally you two are in there making out for at least 25 minutes.

Then the door opens and there stands Phoenix with the biggest smile on her face.

"My bestie and my backseater!" She yells and the rest of the Daggers start whistling and clapping.

You both blush but in these past two weeks you see why Phoenix loves this group of people and you're glad she has so many people who love her just like you do.

You and Bon text each other everyday and you fall a little more with each text.

Then about 6 months into making the long distance work, you surprise them both by moving your life out to San Diego.

"Y/N?"

"Surprise!"

You happily live in the sunshine and sand, side by side by your best friend and her super cute backseater.

Y/N Floyd does have a nice ring to it doesn't it?

Bob my beloved. ❤️

Tagging the forevers: @kloofspeaks @callsign-milano @callsignthirsty @roosterscockpit @notyoursbutlewis

[insertdisc5]

Hi!! I wanted to ask, in celebration of Deltarune CH. 2, do you have any updated thoughts and head canons about the game?? Like, y'know, similar to a previous ask about Kris in your Deltarune tag? Thanks!

thoughts on kris part 2 i guess???? (part 1 from ch1 here lol)

spoilers for deltarune like woah. this wont be kris focused just random thoughts on everything. thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk

not that many thoughts for this chapter tbh! EDIT LOL: this was a lie i have a lot of thoughts

-just in general i feel like the player isn't the only one controlling kris... like yes the player forced kris to do what happened in the snowgrave route but AT THE SAME TIME idk it feels like there's someone else too. just because of the terrifying voice i suppose. and also the jerky movement kris does every time they get their soul out? unless there's another reason for it... maybe getting your soul out means you walk weird lol

-BUT ALSO i feel like kris is 100% in control when they create fountains. idk it just makes sense kris would create them. to create another world, a better world, A WORLD WHERE THEIR BROTHER IS HERE PERHAPS? i do wonder why they get their soul out then though. i'm all for it sweetie! do whatever! i support you!

-(i am and will be playing deltarune with only kris' best interests in mind. i will not hurt anyone unless kris wants me to. dont worry my little meow meow im on your side! talk to me! no? okay ill stay under the sink its fine)

-speaking of asriel. SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER (starts crying) V-VACATION COLLEGE WHEN

-kris misses their brother so much it's so sad. if you make kris steal 5$ from asriel they take it "reluctantly"? talking to asriel online so often even alphys knows?? the google search?? GOING INTO ASRIEL'S GOOGLE SEARCH ROOM WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED BECAUSE THEY'RE CONVINCED THEY ALREADY KNOW WHATS IN THERE? THAT ONE IS LESS OF A MISSING THING BUT IM LIKE OH MY GOD

-the city walk with susie at the end makes it clear to me that kris really values susie's friendship... kris even sits with her if you spend long enough near the lake like aaaaah ;_;

-and even in snowgrave you spend your last acts with the final boss calling for your friends like YES there's a way bigger creepy aspect to this (kris as more of a Leader who Commands and commands their subjects to come) but still :'0 (and then noelle answers oh my god noelle im so sorry for the trauma)

-berdly. listen. listen. listen. liste

-berdly sucks but [berdly hurts his arm in the battle against queen if you don't save him because he doesnt want to hurt you] [berdly realizing smg's wrong in snowgrave and immediately taking steps to save noelle] berdly is my little crumb nugget. i will protect him.

-noelle. noelle. girlboss!

-like ooooh listen. hearing about the genocide path for undertale. made me go "that is SO COOL. i HAVE to experience it myself this is great. hehehe killing time" and like no regrets. i was fully enjoying the experience knowing i was an awful person. SNOWGRAVE THOUGH. i will never try this myself its too fucked up. casually grooming your childhood friend to murder people <3 and also acting like a weird stalker towards her <3 stockholm syndrome speedrun i will get all the info i can about this but i will never do this myself

-people remarking the kris/player>noelle relationship is similar to the relationship between player>chara in genocide path is like yes. chefs kiss. don't worry we just are making you stronger and everything will be fine "you made me kill my friend? and for what?" this is fine sweetie don't worry about it!!!!!!

-like the amount of details added to snowgrave, like if you equip noelle's watch she notices later? and her battle animations change as time goes on, she gets an ice shield and stops sighing in relief after battle? oh my god? oh my god.

-(berdly is not awake.) JUST KILL ME RIGHT HERE I HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT BERDLY NOT BEING AWAKE!!!!!

-also why didnt he turn into dust. so many possible reasons. is magic a thing in the normal world and perhaps no magic means no dust (theres graves). maybe he isnt dead. maybe hes braindead. maybe he'll come back. either way that boy is now in the closet big enough to put someone in

-also dess' name probably being december AND THATS WHY NOELLE LOST THE SPELLING BEE?!?!??! FUCK ME UP!!!!! JUST FUCK ME UP!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

-also so many good pixel art this chapter. too many? i didnt need pixel art of cardboard noelle falling on the statue. like thank you but please. please it hurts my game artist brain.

-the expressions in this chapter were also top notch. all the unsettling noelle expressions like (i fall over face first)

-i threw away the ball of junk (which i already tried in ch1) and this time the game was like "ARE YOU SURE BC THIS IS A BAD IDEA" and kris felt bitter :'( (it deletes all your items in the dark world)

-i uh fucked up and skipped the susie+noelle scene bc listen last time ralsei mentionned seeing what susie is doing we missed some PRIMO LORE. turns out it just makes you skip the scene and you dont get anything new. welp

-speaking of ralsei well you know. he exists. but im stuck on him going "i just wonder what being ralsei-like even is...?" ralsei my dude there's so much i could say about this. do you feel like you can't be ralsei-like because you feel like you have to be asriel-like

-but also that makes no sense bc susie hasnt even mentioned ralsei looks like asriel. and i cant imagine asriel being so meek. so WHAT GIVES

-ralsei as kris’ “i wish i was a monster just like my bro and family and i’d look like asriel but with red horns [THE HALLOWEEN COSTUME] and my name would be something cool like ralsei instead of a boring human name like kris and im sweet and cute because thats how i act with asriel because ASRIEL MADE ME” theory because that would be cute.

-ASRIEL GOING TO THE CHURCH TO CONFESS HIS "SINS" WHEN "SINS" AREN'T A THING IN THE ANGEL BELIEF LIKE I KNOW THIS INTERACTION WAS TREATED AS A JOKE BUT WHAT THE FUCK ASRIEL?

-kris definitely has a connection with the big red door in the city, judging by what the kids say they probably went there... i feel like this place's dark world will be the Final Dungeon you KNOW some shit happened there. also the sounds you hear when you go there is the phone dark world call's sound slowed down? AND AFTER SNOWGRAVE APPARENTLY YOU CANT HEAR IT ANYMORE? HUWAH?

-speaking of songs the songs were all so good, My Castle Town rules, the berdly snowgrave music is stuck in my head, flashback is uwah wuahah, Until Next Time is so good, AND ALSO A FRIEND NOTICED THE DARK WORLD CITY THEME IS JUST tHE SONG 74 (MOST NOTICEABLE WITH THE SNOWGRAVE VERSION)?????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN????? it might be just "hey its just reuse" BUT MR FOX YOU KNOW WE'RE GONNA READ INTO THIS IS NOELLE THE ONE SINGING IDK BRO!!!!!!!!!!

-asgore dreemurr fired from the force what happun!!!!! game theory is that asgore is related to dess' death/disappearance but eh who knows

-you start the chapter at lvl2 and get to lvl3 after the final boss, a friend mentioned this is probably because we destroyed a world and im :0

-to go back to kris it's still so interesting to figure out who they are based on how they act/people mention them. like kris shaking the ferris wheel car? yeah makes sense i can imagine a pranking kid do this. kris' dance? yeah thats a little silly but i can buy it. doing cool anime poses? well i dunno this doesnt line up PERFECTLY but sure. BUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN SNOWGRAVE... especially >proceed like that is such a weird thing that i can't imagine them doing, but i can't completely see the "player" doing either (compare with going to sans -which kris doesnt know- and going "SANS!" because of course the player would know sans), like THATS one of the reasons i feel like there's someone else in there. the weird robotic merciless actions. if im going super meta it feels like there'd be someone else like writing the choices into existence for us to pick you know? gaster probably? god i need to read more gaster theories i completely sidestepped the gaster shit bc i wasnt interested. anyway just spitballing

-(looks at big shot guy) please dont make him the next tumblr guy i beg you

-obligatory "queen was great" mention if only because this part made me laugh a little bit too hard

that was a lot. thank you for letting me talk

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

My Tasha

Word count: 7334

Genre: Mostly angst but the ending is fluffy

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader

Warnings: A sort of suggestive scene? I think that's all (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: congrats on those 500’ love!!! they are well deserved for all of your amazing words 🥺 i was just thinking how cute it be for nat to take a liking to reader, so she tries all those “seductive” tricks the red room taught her, but r just reads it as a cocky fuckboy thing and rejects her? soft!nat appearing later to ask her out? 🥺

Summary: Natasha tries to seduce you at a party but you misunderstand, assuming she's just using you. Both of you mope before realizing what happened.

A/n: Finally I finished this! It was supposed to be 2000 words max but I got carried away and @teenwonder I blame you since you were the one who sent in this idea. I actually really like how this turned out, even if it differs from the prompt slightly so I hope you guys like it too because this probably took at least ten hours to write and I have lost way too much sleep over it. Enjoy!

Natasha looks in the mirror and lifts the corner of her mouth into a slight smile. She looks hot and she knows it, spending hours in front of the mirror perfecting the look. Her eyeshadow screams seduction and her lipstick highlights and colours the natural shape of her lips. Her lashes are curled to perfection and her makeup is applied with the technique she learned years ago that was guaranteed to make people stare. Her hair is straightened because it matches the look and also the last time she straightened it you had complimented her hair so she knows you like it.

Her dress is black, the colour that looks best on her, with a neckline that is dangerously low and the bottom riding dangerously high on her thigh. Her heels are her go to ones for anytime she wants to seduce anyone, they manage to work every time and have become a small symbol of luck for her and tonight she needs all the luck she can get for tonight’s party.

Usually people are easy to seduce, she just has to figure out the likes and dislikes of her target and play up to them. Tonight shouldn’t be much different except for the big added aspect of her actually caring. She’s never had to seduce someone she’s wanted to before so she knows it’s going to be harder than normal. Taking a deep breath she pushes the nerves away and smirks at her own reflection before going to meet everyone in the main room.

Your breath hitches when she walks in and you quickly look away so it doesn’t seem like you’ve been waiting for her arrival. She’s gorgeous, she always is, but tonight there’s something about her that’s different, like she put more effort than usual. You force yourself to stay calm and look away, pretending to still be interested in the conversation you had been having with Carol that you zoned out of the moment Natasha entered the room.

Carol’s looking at you strangely. “What?”

She gives a half laugh. “You think I didn’t notice you drooling over Natasha.”

“That obvious?” you ask and she nods. “Damn.”

“Damn is right, she’s smoking!” Carol whisper-yells, glancing over quickly and then back to you.

“Carol!” you exclaim aghast.

She laughs again. “Don’t worry I’m not trying to steal your girl, after all I have Valkyrie.”

“Yes and you constantly remind me of that.” you mumble which she ignores.

“I’m just saying that some people are already staring at her and are going to be all over her soon, you need to make your move quickly.” she finishes.

“I will.” you tell her, with no real intention of going to talk to her.

“Sure you will,” she says quietly at first before yelling in Natasha’s direction, “Hey Romanoff! Come here.”

Natasha is surprised and she hopes Carol isn’t calling her over because she noticed her staring. Logically she knows that Carol doesn’t want to date you and is dating Valkyrie but it looked far too much like flirting in her opinion. There were whispers and giggles and at one point you got all flustered and embarrassed. She doesn’t like how possessive she feels over you when she has no right to but somehow when it comes to you she can’t quite control herself.

Showing none of the inner thoughts that go through her head she weaves her way over to you. At first some of the team is staring because they got startled by Carol’s yell but a small glare gets them to look away again.

“Hey.” Carol greets when she walks over.

“Hey.” she says back with a smile and it’s not her fault if the smile is a little flirtier than normal and directed more towards where you’re standing. “What’s up?”

“I want to go find Valkyrie and see what’s taking so long for her to come back from the bar but didn’t want to leave Y/n all alone at a party and since you were alone too I thought it would be a great idea for you guys to spend the party together!” she explains quickly. “I’ll come back soon!”

With that she leaves and you and Natasha are left looking at each other awkwardly. She wants to say something to break the silence but all her earlier confidence is gone and she feels like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Which is half true, she is definitely not a schoolgirl but she’s never had feelings like this for anybody before.

“You don’t have to stay here.” you offer, feeling bad that she was forced to come here and babysit you. Carol is your best friend but sometimes you just can’t stand her. This is so uncomfortable and Natasha is looking at you weirdly and you just know that she’ll apologize and leave so she can spend the party with people who actually know how to have fun.

“I know but I want to.” she says and you can’t help looking away shyly and smiling. She smiles herself at your cuteness, now slightly more confident knowing that she can make you react like that.

---

She smirks as for the thousandth time that night you struggle to keep your gaze from dipping below her neck. The dress was a good choice and judging based on your lack of eye contact you appreciate it. She knows you find her attractive, it’s hard not to know that with you staring at her boobs every few seconds but as the night goes on she’s more and more hopefully that you want to date her. Your flushed cheeks and occasional stuttering give you away.

Some guy interrupts your conversation and she resists the urge to punch him. She doesn’t know what he’s here for and shouldn’t punch people for interrupting a conversation with a girl she really really likes (she doesn’t allow herself to consider love just yet).

“Hey beautiful.” he greets her, stepping into her space and ignoring you. Against her better judgment she does punch him and giggles as he staggers backwards muttering about bitches under his breath. Really the punch shouldn’t have affected him that much, it was light and not in an area that would cause serious injury, he was just weak.

“Holy fuck.” you whisper under your breath.

“That didn’t bother you, did it?” she rushes to confirm, not wanting to have upset you by resorting to violence. She wasn’t quite sure how to take your holy fuck, whether you meant it in a good way or not.

“It was so hot.” you breath and then immediately clamp a hand over your mouth once you’ve realized what you’ve said out loud.

You’re about to apologize but she speaks first. “Really?”

You don’t understand how she makes her voice sound so smooth and seductive but it makes your knees weak. You’re nervous but there’s no point in taking it back now and it does seem like she’s flirting with you so you continue.

“Yeah, what can I say I like strong women who don’t take shit from men.” you say, moving closer to her. You haven’t flirted very much before but judging based on how her eyes darken slightly you think it’s working.

She reaches out and runs her hand down the side of your face slowly, making you shiver. “Looks like we have the same type.”

She keeps her hand there for a second then leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away. You’re frustrated by how long it’s taking and try to take a small step towards her so you can kiss her. It doesn’t work well since you forgot you’re wearing heels and lose your balance, making her laugh, her breaths dancing over your lips. And then suddenly she’s not moving slowly anymore and her lips are on yours and it’s all you can think about. Your other senses are all dulled and you kiss her harder to prove that this is real.

After a few seconds she pulls back. “I didn’t want people to see,” she explains when she sees your pout, “hallway?”

You’re not sure if it’s even possible for you to do anything but nod and take her hand as she leads you out. Inside of taking you to the main hall she takes you to a side one that doesn’t get used often and only the avengers have access to. Glancing around again to make sure nobody notices she pulls you inside and immediately you’re kissing again.

She presses you against the wall and you grip her shoulders tightly, your nails dipping into her bare skin. When she pulls back again she notes in satisfaction that your lips are smeared with her lipstick and she applauds her choice of bright red. Inside of going back to your mouth she kisses along your jaw and your neck, the lipstick marking you. Happy with her work she moves back to your lips, humming happily at the feeling.

She likes it even more when she feels your mouth open to let her in, taking the opportunity to explore your mouth with her tongue. You let out a small whine and the noise reminds her of where you are.

“Come up to my room?” she asks, smirking. You’re about to say yes when you notice her smirk. It bugs you for some reason, it makes it seem like she’s winning some sort of prize. Breathing heavily you look more closely at her and notice her heels. It’s her seductive mission heels. And then you realize she often wears a black dress to seduce people as well. You feel like a complete idiot, she doesn’t want you for anything more than a quick fling. This was a calculated move on her part.

“No.” you tell her firmly, only able to hold back your tears due to sheer anger. You thought that you were friends, how dare she try to play with your feelings just because she knew she could. Taking advantage of her shock you push past her, running out of the hall and back into the party. You look like a disaster so as quickly as possibly to rush to the doors and leave, running to your room, thankful that everyone seems too invested in their own conversations to notice you going.

You keep running until you reach your room. It didn’t look like she was following you but you don’t want to take any chances. Flinging off your heels because they’re uncomfortable you launch yourself onto your bed and curl up, pulling the covers over your head and putting your face into a pillow. You’re probably getting her lipstick all over right now but you don’t care, you don’t have enough energy to care right now.

You berate yourself again for how stupid you are. You got so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t even consider that it didn’t mean the same to her as it did to you. It’s so obvious in hindsight. How after one kiss she wanted to sneak away so nobody saw, her glance back at the room before you entered the hall. She wasn’t looking for a relationship that much was clear. She invited you to her bedroom, not on a date.

You try to reason with yourself to make the pain go away but it doesn’t. You weren’t super close but you considered her a friend. Apparently she didn’t consider you one if she was willing to put your friendship aside for sex. You briefly consider that maybe she didn’t know about your feelings but you shake that thought off. She’s smart and reads people easily, she knew she just didn’t care.

You hate the tears that roll down your face. You can’t tell if they’re from sadness or anger and it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems to matter right now. Sobs wrack your body harder and you scream silently into your pillow. You hate this so much, you hate crying and you wish you could hate Natasha but you can’t. You hate yourself for letting yourself get hurt like this though.

---

Natasha watches you leave. She wants to run after you but the look on your face when you pushed by her stops her. You looked so disgusted that you had just made out with her and she can feel her heart breaking into a million pieces just thinking about it. She doesn't know what she did to get it. It’s obvious that you regretted kissing her but it hurts that you seem disgusted by it.

She allows herself a few moments to stand there and try to comprehend what just went on, a single tear dripping down her face. Swallowing hard she wipes it away and takes a breath to collect herself. She makes sure her dress is straight and runs her fingers through her hair so it doesn’t look too wild.

It doesn’t really matter what she looks like, she’s planning to slip out the back of the hall, the opposite way that you went, so it’s unlikely anyone will see her but she wants to be prepared on the off chance that the halls aren’t empty. Biting her lip to stay calm she walks out the end of the hall and slowly makes her way to her room.

She feels so stupid. She’s not even mad at you for feeling disgusted she’s mad at herself. She got so caught up in her own feeling that she never stopped to think about the fact that you don’t like her back. For a moment it seemed like you did but that was probably you being too nice to say no to her.

Her heels seem to mock her as she walks up the stairs with the way they clip clop. So much for lucky heels, she’ll never be able to use them again without remembering how badly she failed. She tugs on her dress from both the top and the bottom, trying to pull it longer in both directions. She felt so confident in it earlier in the mirror and especially when she caught you staring but now she just feels dirty and slutty.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” she mutters out loud to herself when she finally gets to her room. Looking in her mirror upon entry only makes things worse. She’s lucky that she didn’t see anyone in the halls because even after her attempts at cleaning up she looks like a mess. Her makeup is smudged all over and she can see the upset written plainly on her face.

Usually it’s easy to hide her emotions but usually she doesn’t feel such strong ones. You make her feel and she hates it. Only earlier today she loved that you made her feel. She loved the way her heart fluttered thinking about you and how she wasn’t always perfectly composed. You made her feel normal. But now she hates the way her heart betrays her, happy at even the thought of you.

Her only option right now is to forget and she thanks herself for always keeping a bottle of vodka in her room. A bad habit perhaps, but she rarely drinks from it and it is perfect for this situation. Drinking doesn’t help much, even after a while the hurt is still fresh in her mind, but it stops her from overthinking. When she eventually leaves the bottle and slips into bed it’s nobody’s business but hers if she cries herself to sleep.

---

You bury yourself deeper into your covers when you hear knocks at your door, hoping that whoever it is will go away soon.

“Y/n open up!” you hear Carol shout, still pounding on the door. “Unless Natasha’s with you, don’t think I didn’t notice you left the party earlier.”

Carol’s mention of Natasha makes a lump form in your throat and suddenly you feel the sudden urge to take a shower and wash all of her off you. You must have stayed silent for too long because Carol’s knocking stops and she speaks again.

“If you don’t say anything in five seconds I’m coming in.” she tells you.

You don’t know if you want her here or not. Carol is always good at making you cheer up but you feel embarrassed to tell anybody what happened.

“Four.”

Carol would understand though, she’s never been one to judge people for things and she was the one who helped push you towards Natasha, telling you she liked you back.

“Three.”

You realize that Natasha’s lipstick is still all over you and you’re still wearing the dress from last night. It’s too late to fix the clothes but you try to wipe the lipstick from your neck as quickly as possible (spoiler, it doesn’t go very well).

“Two.”

You’re still not sure if you want her to come in so you open your mouth to try to tell her to go away but the lump in your throat prevents you from speaking.

“One, I’m coming in now.” she says, opening the door. “Is that Natasha’s lipstick?”

It’s too much and you get overwhelmed, bursting into tears. Her grin of triumph from when she saw the lipstick quickly disappears and she rushes over to comfort you, wrapping you in a big hug.

“Do I have to kill her?” she asks, when you’ve calmed down a little bit. If you didn’t know Carol enough to know she’s actually a huge softy you would think she is dead serious.

“No,” you tell her, managing a weak smile at how quickly Carol comes to your defense.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “You have her lipstick all over you and you’re crying because of her. What did she do wrong?”

“It’s not her fault,” you protest. Natasha and Carol are friends and you don’t want them to stop being close because of you.

“It’s not her fault you’re crying?” Carol asks skeptically.

“I-um, she,” you stumble over your words because technically it is her fault you’re crying. “She didn’t mean to.” you finally settle on saying.

Carol doesn’t look any happier with the situation than she did before. “Please tell me what happened Y/n so I can go beat her up for you. Did she try to force herself on you or do anything you didn’t want?”

“No.” you say, shaking your head. Natasha may have only been looking for a one night stand or short fling but you can confidently say that she would never do that.

“Okay, then what did she do to make you so upset? It doesn’t look like she rejected you.” Carol is both stubborn and curious and you sigh knowing you’re not going to be able to get out of this conversation without telling her what happened.

“At first it was really nice, we were talking and then we were kissing. But then-” you pause and take a deep breath as Carol rubs a hand comfortingly on your back. “But then she asked if I wanted to go up to her room.” you pause again, trying not to cry for the second time this morning.

“What did you say?” Carol asks softly, knowing this is hard for you.

“I almost said yes, I was planning to say yes,” you tell her, “but then I looked down at her heels.”

“Her heels?”

“She was wearing the heels she always wears for missions where she has to seduce shady old men.” you explain. “And her dress seemed different than normal, like one she’d wear on a mission and she was smirking at me, like she got exactly what she wanted.”

“She treated you like a mission.” Carol states, a hard look in her eye. “That bitch.”

“Carol,” you warn, “you’re her friend too.”

“And as her friend I’m going to give her some friendly advice.” She emphasizes the word friendly giving the impression that it wasn’t going to be friendly at all.

“It will only make things worse.” you tell her. “I just want to forget about it.”

Carol keeps the hard look but softens a little, smiling at you. “Okay, whatever you want. We could spend the day watching movies and eating ice cream?”

“Okay.” you tell her. You’ve never been heartbroken before but you’ve seen movies and apparently this is what everyone does.

“I’ll go get the ice cream while you pick a movie.” she tells you, standing up. “I’ll even watch a disney one if you’d like.”

You give a halfhearted cheer, trying to convince Carol that you’re excited. She frowns as she leaves the room, that cheer was obviously fake. Any other time and you would be beyond happy that she was agreeing to watch Disney movies with you, you’ve been begging her to for almost a year. She can’t help but feel anger at Natasha and anger at herself. Anger at Natasha for playing with your feelings but anger at herself for pushing you to be with Natasha. She should have realized Natasha wouldn’t treat you right but she was so caught up in trying to pair you together that she didn’t see it.

---

Natasha wakes up as normal, feeling a headache forming already. Glancing towards her alarm clock she sits up in shock when she reads how late it is. She’s never in bed after noon. She groans when she realizes sitting up that quickly was not a good idea and makes her feel nauseous. She takes a few breaths, in and out, to calm herself and tries to remember why she drank so much. She was upset, she remembers that. She was upset because her plan didn’t work.

She feels a sharp pain in her heart when her mental blocks seem to go away and she remembers everything that happened, how the night had been going so perfectly and she had felt so happy only for it to all come crashing down when you ran away, disgusted that you kissed her.

“Stupid.” she tells herself, getting out of bed. She reminds herself of that as she goes about her normal morning routine, washing her face, brushing her teeth and getting dressed. She was so stupid to risk your friendship for something more, now it would be a miracle if you still wanted to be around her. Even if it hurt to pretend you hadn’t kissed she would go back to being friends with you in an instant if you still wanted her. She tries not to think about how big of an if that is.

When she is presentable she decides to head down the kitchen and grab some food. It’s been awhile since she last ate and there’s no use in trying to hide away and avoid her problems; she will either see you and have to confront them or you won’t be there. She knows that hiding away will only make things worse and appear weak, if she leaves her room and pretends everything is normal it will make her seem less hurt than she is.

“Hi Natasha.” Tony says in a weird voice when she enters the kitchen, waggling his eyebrows. She does her best not to show her obvious disappointment that almost everybody is here. The one upside is that you’re not.

“Hi Tony.” she says tiredly, walking over to grab a piece of bread and plopping it in the toaster.

“So Natasha,” he starts, oblivious to her unrelaxed mood, “how was last night?”

Natasha whips around lightning fast, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

He couldn’t possibly have heard, could he? She had hoped to talk to you before word got out about the rejection, to try to keep it on the down-low because the guys would never let her live it down. She assumed you wouldn’t tell anyone but you did leave the hall in the direction of the party so maybe you decided to stay.

“I mean with Y/n.” he says casually as Natasha fights to keep a straight face as her heart beats wildly in her chest. “Don’t think we didn’t notice how you both left early.”

Natasha lets out an almost unnoticeable sigh of relief. He didn’t know anything important.

“Well that may be the case but I can assure you nothing happened.” she tells him.

“Then where is she now?” Tony challenges.

“I don’t know, if you haven’t seen her she’s probably in her room.” Natasha responds smoothly. It’s just her luck that after being rejected by the girl of her dreams Tony thinks they got together.

“And where were you?”

Natasha gives him a deadpan stare. “My own room.”

He scoffs. “First of all you could be lying to us, I know you spies are good at that. But if you aren’t you need to get some balls and ask her out already.”

Natasha scowls. “A man’s balls are the weakest part of his body, I am good without them.”

Tony has enough self preservation to step back for a second. Natasha lets him think that her annoyance is solely over his sexist statement but really it wasn’t that bad and she’s just upset that she can’t have you so she really doesn’t want to be talking about asking you out.

“You should.” Clint speaks up.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Not you too.”

“See Clint agrees with me and I bet the others do too.” Tony says smugly. Natasha lets her eyes move slowly around the room and one but one they all look away when she catches their eye, showing her that while they are too nervous to outright say it, Tony is right and they do agree.

“I don’t care about that,” she says, “I am not and that’s the end of the story.”

“What not?” Tony persists. “You like her, you can’t deny that, so give me one good reason not to.”

“Because she wouldn’t want to and I respect that.” Natasha says calmly. Inside she feels her stomach twisting and she wants to break something. She may be good at hiding her emotions but this conversation is proving to be next to impossible.

Tony scoffs again. “There’s no way, that girl is so in love with you it’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is that you assume things about other people and can’t let this go.” Natasha tells him icily. “You don’t know what she’d say.”

“Then you don’t know either.” Tony counters.

“Then why did she say no when I asked her out last night?” Natasha snaps at him. There are gasps all around the room and to her mortification she is barely holding in the tears that spring to her eyes.

“What?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“I asked her out, she said no and that’s that.” Natasha explains, trying to keep her composure but failing when a tear falls down her cheek. “Excuse me.”

She hurries out of the room, no longer able to handle the talk of asking you out and the disbelieving stares. As she gets back to her room and lies in bed once more she notes in annoyance that she never got her toast. Not that she’s hungry anymore anyway. She doesn’t feel anything anymore except sadness and emptiness. She knew her feelings for you were strong but now that she knows for sure that you don’t want her they feel even stronger and it makes her realize just how much this meant to her and how much she lost.

---

“Hey.” Carol greets as she walks in the kitchen and heads straight for the freezer.

“Morning Carol.” Bruce says, looking shocked when he sees the amount of ice cream she’s holding. “Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s for Y/n.” Carol explains.

Tony’s expression turns dark. “What on earth does she need it for?”

“Girl problems, also known as none of your business.” Carols says, in an admittedly sassy voice.

Tony glares. “By girl problems do you mean what happened with Romanoff last night.”

He may tease Natasha but she was like family to him and he would not allow your feelings to be coddled while you stomped all over hers. He doesn’t care if you feel bad for rejecting her, you had flirted and let her on for too long and feeling bad was the least you deserve.

In an instant Carol is across the kitchen and inches from his face. “How do you know?”

“Hey, calm down.” Bruce says, stepping in when he notices Clint and Sam have both tensed up, presumably to defend Natasha’s honor. Even though he’s a man himself he doesn’t understand them sometimes, Natasha was more than capable of taking care of herself and starting a fight between Tony and Carol, the two most stubborn on the team, would only be a headache for weeks to come.

“How do you know?” Carol asks Bruce, thankfully stepping back from Tony.

“She was here a few minutes ago and told us.”

Carol curses under her breath. “That bitch.”

“Hey!” Clint says loudly. “If anyone is a bitch here it’s Y/n.”

“Yes because it’s all Y/n’s fault.” Carol says sarcastically.

Sam decides he’s had enough of Carol. “Yes actually, it is.”

“Bullshit.”

The three of them go back and forth with Carol, mainly cursing and getting a little off topic.

It’s when Carol calls Tony an idiot that Bruce speaks up. “You weren’t here to see Natasha cry.”

“What?” Carol turned to face Bruce, shocked. He isn’t one for petty arguments so she believes what comes out of his mouth. But why would Natasha cry? It doesn’t make sense, she was the one who broke your heart, not the other way around. “Natasha never cries.”

“Well she just did.” Tony says but it’s not in a confrontational tone anymore. He’s not sure what Carol knows but it’s obvious she didn’t know fully what happened.

“Why?”

“It was partly my fault,” Tony admits, “I was teasing her about asking out Y/n and she kept saying no and eventually snapped and told us that she did last night but Y/n rejected her.”

Carol scrunches her brow in confusion. “That’s not what Y/n told me- OHHH.”

“What?” The voice comes simultaneously from all four men at once.

“They are both idiots.” Carol says, smiling and laughing for the first time since entering the kitchen. “They are both huge idiots that don’t know shit about feelings.”

“What?” Tony asks again, wanting to know what Carol’s thinking.

“Okay I’ll tell you but don’t interrupt.” Carol warns and looks at all of them to make sure they nod in agreement. Once she is satisfied she starts. “So this morning I found Y/n in tears and covered in Natasha’s lipstick. Apparently they had fun at the party last night and then snuck away to makeout. Y/n was upset because Natasha asked her up to her room instead of on a date and she noticed that Natasha was wearing her mission heels, do you know them?”

“The ones that she uses to seduce old men for Shield?” Sam asks just to make sure.

“Yep.” Carol confirms. “So anyways Y/n is upset because she thinks that she was just some sort of challenge to Natasha so she left her there…”

“...but Natasha was actually serious about her.” Clint finishes.

Tony laughs. “They really are idiots.”

“I am definitely telling this story at their wedding and to their future kids.” Sam says, also laughing.

“Well first they need to actually talk to each other about this.” Bruce points out, lowering the happy mood of the room. “Right now they’re both in their rooms miserable and feelings like the other doesn’t want them.”

“We should get Natasha to talk to Y/n,” Carol suggests, “because I know that Y/n won’t believe us unless Natasha is the one to tell her.”

“Okay I volunteer to talk to Natasha.” Tony suggests.

“No.” Carol tells him.

“Well you’re Y/n’s best friend so she won’t want to talk to you either right now.” he counters.

“Yes but you’re also a horrible option, I think Bruce would be best for this.”

Bruce looks around the room. “Me?”

“That does make sense,” Clint agrees with Carol, “out of all of us you’re the best at calming people down and she’d be most likely to believe you quicker.”

“But-”

“No buts Brucie, don’t you want to see them together?” Tony pleads.

“Yeah come on Brucie,” Sam mocks Tony, “do it for love.”

Bruce sighs as he watches Tony pout and Sam flutter his eyelashes ridiculously. “Fine.”

“Get straight to the point,” Clint advises, “because she will kick you out if you don’t.”

“Okay.”

Bruce leaves the kitchen to head to Natasha’s room. It took ages for him to be convinced to join the avengers and every day he can’t tell if he regrets his choice or loves his choice. Certainly no other job in the world would force him to go talk to his scary assassin coworker so she and his other coworker can get together. He really isn’t paid enough for this.

A knock startles Natasha. She didn’t think anyone would come after her because she assumed they would all be too scared when she’s in a bad mood.

“Who is it?” she calls out.

“Bruce.”

“Bruce,” she sighs, “I’m sorry but I need to be alone right now, I hope you of all people can understand that.”

“No.” he responds, surprising both her and himself with how determined his voice sounds.

“Bruce-” she starts but he interrupts.

“Hear me out first Natasha,” he begs, “please.”

She thinks about it for a moment before giving up and sighing, she’s not in the mood to spend time arguing. “Fine, but you have to stay outside the door.”

“If that’s what you want.” he agrees, pausing a second to figure out how he wants to word things. “I just came back from an interesting conversation with Carol in the kitchen.” he settles on saying.

“Oh?” She tries not to think about what that means. Carol is your best friend and after her scene in the kitchen this morning she doesn’t think there would be any other reason he would bring her up.

“She was getting ice cream for Y/n because apparently she’s upset.” he offers as a means of explanation.

“Oh.” she says again and it’s so quiet she doesn’t think he heard her. “You can tell Carol that I’ll apologize to Y/n tomorrow, I need to gain control of myself first.”

She never thought about how it would be from your end of things. She forced you into more than you wanted and tried to ask you out and she selfishly focused on her own feelings when you probably were upset that she kissed you. Or you thought you would lose her as a friend. She doesn't think she is capable of talking to you without breaking down right now but in a few days she’ll be fine and able to pretend nothing changed.

“That’s not what she was upset about,” Bruce tells her, “Carol says she was upset because she thought it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“What, why?” Natasha can’t help but let her interest be taken. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, what Bruce said could mean a lot of different things.

“I feel like I’m in middle school and there’s broken telephone being played between two crushes.” Bruce jokes.

“Bruce, tell me why.” Natasha demands. Her voice is soft but they both know if Bruce stalls any longer she’ll drop the sweet act.

“Well Carol said she said that it seemed like you were acting as if she was your mission to seduce and not like you actually wanted to be with her.” Bruce says, relaying the information.

“Crap.”

Bruce waits for Natasha to elaborate but she doesn’t say anything. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yes, thank you Bruce,” she says, “I need to go fix this, you can leave now.”

He can’t help but feel relieved as he speeds away down the hall. He is never going to do anything like that again, it was way too awkward. He still doesn’t understand how the others forced him to do this, damn his heart for being persuaded it was a good cause. The one upside is that talking to Natasha did seem to work and with any luck she’d be able to fix her mistakes with you. If she didn’t he did all this for nothing and may very well hulk out.

---

Natasha paces back and forth in her room. If Bruce was right (and she has no reason to believe he would lie) you didn’t run away because you didn’t like her, you ran away because you thought she didn’t like you. She winces when she thinks about it. Looking back she can see why you were mistaken and thought she didn’t have true feelings for you because she did treat you like a mark. She analyzed what hairstyle and dress you would like and wore her good luck heels. Even the way she talked and acted was calculated to be exactly what you’d like.

She’s stupid, so stupid and if she had just asked you out in a normal way instead of trying to seduce you she could be on a brunch date with you right now. It had never occurred to her to try it any other way, she was taught that seducing was the easiest way to get people to like you so why should it be different for a normal date? In hindsight using red room techniques to get a date is a horrible idea and she can’t believe she didn’t see it before. Maybe she hasn’t shaken off the red room ideals as much as she thought she had.

The thought scares her, her entire life upon leaving the red room has been dedicated to being a force for good, the opposite of everything the red room stood for so to realize that they still have their claws in deeper than she thought is terrifying. She takes a deep breath and tries to make it go away, which is mostly successful as the thought is reduced to the back of her mind. She can take her thoughts and analyze them later, which is another thing the red room taught her to do she notes, but right now she has to focus on the thing that’s most important, fixing her mistake.

As she walks through the halls to your room she runs through things she should say in her head but nothing sounds right. Perhaps it’s for the best though, that way you can tell she’s genuine and not performing another script. She pauses as she reaches your door, finding herself almost shaking with nerves. What if you don’t want her anymore or Bruce misunderstood or worst of all you still think she doesn’t care?

She almost turns around and goes back, unfamiliar with this type of fear but she knows that if she does all chances of fixing things and having a relationship with you will be reduced to zero. Taking a deep breath she turns the knob and pushes the door open.

You don’t look right away when you hear the door open, too lazy to care. “What took you so long, you were supposed to be back with the ice cream ages ago.”

“I-”

You spin around quickly. “You’re not Carol.”

“Nor do I have ice cream.” She tries to joke but it falls flat.

“Why are you here?” you ask and she winces. It’s blunt and straight to the point, your tone quiet but practically screaming at her to get out.

Since you got straight to the point she decides to do the same. “To ask you out.”

You must look even more shocked than you feel because she quickly jumps in to explain. “That’s what I was trying to do at the party last night, although I know you assumed that I didn’t mean it. I know you noticed the heels and I know I was smirking and it seemed like I was playing you but it really was genuine, I was just trying to do it the wrong way. I was always taught in the red room that to get people to like you romantically the best way to do that is to seduce them but obviously that is wrong and I didn’t realize until too late.”

There’s a lot of information to take in but your mind gets stuck on one question. “How do you know all that about how I felt?”

“Carol talked to Bruce who talked to me.” she says, looking slightly embarrassed at how elementary that sounds. “So?”

“So what?” You know she wants to know if you’ll go out with her for real and you really want to immediately say yes but you also want to hear her ask you properly.

She seems to understand. “Will you go on a date with me Y/n?”

You hesitate one moment before responding. It’s unnecessarily mean but you just spent a good portion of last night and this morning crying over her and besides, she looks absolutely adorable as she shifts her weight from side to side nervously. She looks exactly how you want her to look, no makeup and wearing sweatpants. It’s natural and genuine and everything you would have loved to see last night.

“Yes.”

“Oh thank god.” she laughs in relief, the pitch of it breathier than normal.

“I like it when you do that.” you tell her.

She furrows her brow, confused. “Do what?”

“When you laugh like that or wear old clothes, like you’re not trying to impress me.” you explain.

“So when I do the opposite of what I did last night?” she asks, laughing at herself for being so stupid. Of course you didn’t fall for all the acts, if you did she wouldn’t like you as much as she does. You make her feel different and that’s a good thing, she shouldn’t have to act around you.

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong last night was hot,” you tell her, “but it’s not you. That’s agent Romanoff putting on whatever mask she needs to be for the night, this here is my Tasha.”

“Your Tasha, huh,” she teases, “possessive much?”

“Sorry.”

“No,” she tells you, “I like it. I don’t need to put a mask on around you because you’re you and I am your Tasha. But you’re also mine.”

“All yours.” you confirm and she visibly shivers. “Apparently I’m not the only possessive one.”

“Apparently.” she says looking at you in a way that makes heat rise to your cheeks.

“Since we wasted time last night maybe we could start with a movie date right now?” you suggest shyly, changing the topic.

“Well we do have time to make up for.” she agrees, sitting down on the bed beside you. “What movie?”

“Mulan.” you tell her pressing the remote to drop the tv down into your room. There were definitely benefits to living with Tony.

“A disney movie?” she asks skeptically.

“Have you seen it?” you ask already knowing the answer before she shakes her head. “Then don’t knock it, it’s a great movie.”

“If you say so.” she says, still slightly skeptical but much more open to it. Even if the movie is garbage she doesn’t think she’d mind watching it with you. She definitely doesn’t mind it when your head drops onto your shoulder and you fall asleep, tired from the emotional rollercoaster you just went on. And when the movie ends she doesn’t move, happy to have you there, even when hours later her shoulder is all tense and cramped. It scares her how much she feels for you already but it also feels freeing, she knows she is not just the product of the red room because their biggest rule is to not fall in love and she’s definitely going to break that soon, if she hasn’t already.

---

Taglist: @fayhar@xxxtwilightaxelxxx@acertainredhead@madamevirgo@megaqueenmaeve@cherryblossomskye@aaron-despair@chickenhavewisdom@emril-osvigne@nyankitty987@agathaharkness-simp@midnight-lestrange@usernames-are-difficult (couldn't tag)@thewidowsghost@nyx-aira@stephanieromanoff@Satxnsupreme@likefirenrain@wlwlovesreading@natashadeservedbetter@stop-drop-and-drumroll@peggycarter-steverogers@casperlikej@redswing@mochamoff@king-star@blackbat2020

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

[cloudybarnes]

Affection

Paring: bucky barnes x reader

Summary: your boyfriend isn’t very fond of pda. that means while the avengers are around, no kissing, no cuddling, and barely any touching. well, the avengers aren’t always at the compound. when they’re gone, bucky turns into the sweetest, most loving guy you’ve ever met, but why is it he can’t act like that around anyone else?

based off this request even though I changed it a little for plot :)

Word Count: 1.6k+

Warnings: fluff, soft bucky, Tony in their business a bit, cursing

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

“How awesome is this right now?” You grin as you jump onto the sofa cushion next to Bucky.

He chuckles, “I’d say it’s pretty damn awesome. We’ve got the compound to ourselves for the entire weekend.” His voice lowers as he leans closer to you. 

You giggle and scoot yourself just a bit closer to Bucky. You sit up on your knees next to Bucky, sitting a little taller than him now. Smiling, you lean your face down to his, your lips hovering over his. 

Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. He tilts his head back and presses his lips to yours. Your smile only grows bigger as you kiss him back. 

Your body relaxes as you kiss him. You bring your hand to the side of his face and cup his cheek, gently trying to bring him closer to you. 

Bucky wraps his metal arm around your waist, lifting you on to his lap. You giggle into his lips which makes Bucky pull back. He grins as he watches you giggle to yourself. 

“What is it, doll?” Bucky chuckles.

You shake your head, “nothing, Buck. I’m just really happy to be with you, especially like this.”

Bucky raises a brow and smirks, “like this?”

You roll your eyes, “I mean I like being with you. I like kissing you and being close to you. It makes me really happy.” You gently tangle your fingers in his hair as you confess this.

Bucky softly smiles at you, and grabs your hand from his hair to place a kiss to the back of it. “You’re sweet on me. You make me really happy, darling; happier than I think I’ve ever been.”

You heart swells, and you rub your thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand that still holds yours. “Well, you make me happier than I’ve ever been. I can’t remember the last time my heart beat for someone the way it does you, Bucky.”

Bucky blushes, and tries to look away from you.

You gasp with a laugh, “Buck, no! Don’t hide your pretty face from me.” 

You gently grasp his chin and turn his head to look at you. His cheeks are lightly rosy, and his smile is wide. “There’s my pretty boy.”

Bucky flushes again, and mumbles a shy, “stop, doll.”

You just giggle and plant a kiss to his warm cheeks.

Bucky stands up and pulls you with him. “You want to dance with me, doll?”

“Like you used to back in the day?”

Bucky grins, “exactly. FRIDAY, could you put on my playlist, please?”

FRIDAY responds, “sure. ‘songs to woo Y/n’ now playing.”

You giggle at the title of the playlist. Bucky is such a dork sometimes. 

Bucky chuckles too as he places his hands on your waist. “You weren’t supposed to know the title of the playlist.”

“Aw, but it’s so cute. If these songs don’t woo me, I’m going to be really disappointed.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck, swaying gently to the soft melody.

The two of you quiet down, just basking in the alone time you have. It isn’t often you two get to be like this. Bucky, isn’t a fan of pda. Doing things in public makes him uncomfortable, and you get that. With everything he’s been through, the last thing you want is to force him to kiss you in front of the other avengers.

Things are nice the way they are. Sure, Nat and Wanda think it’s strange he doesn’t hold your hand around them, or that he gets awkward when you try to kiss him in front of people, but you think that’s just how Bucky is. You like the Bucky the way he is, even if you secretly would like to not be limited to showing affection in private. 

“What are you thinking about, doll?”

You pull your eyes from the ground and look at Bucky who has a small smile on his face. “Nothing, baby, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy right now is all.”

Bucky presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I’m happy too. I love you, Y/n.”

You grin, and gently pull on your arms so Bucky’s head lowers enough for you to give him a kiss. “I love you too, Buck.”

Just before the next song starts to play, an unexpected voice chimes through the compound.

“You know, I actually was starting to believe you were lying about being together since I never see you guys interact.” Tony says as he walks into the main room. The rest of the team, consisting of Nat, Wanda, Steve, Vision, Thor, and Bruce, follow behind him.

Bucky awkwardly clears his throat and steps away from you as well as stopping the music. 

“Oh come on,” Nat smiles, “don’t stop on our account.”

You awkwardly chuckle, “What are you guys doing back so soon? I thought it was weekend thing.”

“Well it was,” Tony dramatically says as he sits on the couch, “until it ended up being a false alarm so they sent us back here. How they screwed it up enough to get us involved over a prank is beyond me.”

Steve steps closer to Bucky, “I heard the playlist you had on. It sure does bring back some memories.”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, things were so much simpler back then.”

“Sorry,” Tony interrupts, “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I am, so what’s up with you two.” He points between you and Bucky. “Cause I’ve noticed some things. I never see you kiss, you don’t hold hands, you don’t sit close to each other, you don’t hug, you don’t anything really.” 

“Really, Tony?” Steve scolds, “You have to be all in their business like some teenager?”

Tony sticks his hands up in defense, “hey, don’t get angry at me. We were all thinking it.” He turns to Bucky and addresses him, “so is there any particular reason you guys try to hide your relationship, or what?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Well, we don’t hide anything. We’re just not that kind of couple.”

“What do you mean by that? You two mutually agreed you don’t want to show people your relationship?”

Bucky clears his throat, “I mean, it’s not like we’ve had a conversation about deliberately hiding it, it’s just natural for us.”

“So Y/n likes only being shown affection when you feel is a good time?”

Bucky growls, “no, Stark, it’s not like that.”

“Tony, I think that’s enough.” Steve commands, trying to keep everyone at ease.

“I’m not doing anything but asking questions. I think you two need to have a conversation, and now is the perfect time!” Tony suggests as he stares at you. 

There’s no way he could know how you’ve been feeling. The only person you told was Nat and she would never tell anyone your secrets.

“For fuck’s sake, Tony, Y/n and I don’t nee-”

“Yeah, let’s talk.” You cut Bucky off. His wide eyes turn to you and his jaw hangs low. 

“Um, yeah, we can do that.” He stammers.

You grab Bucky’s hand and pull him out of the living room to get to your bedroom. As you walk by, you see Tony giving you a thumbs up, and Nat behind him winking at you.

You shake your head and laugh to yourself a little. 

Once in your room, you sit down on your bed, Bucky slowly following pursuit.

He sighs, “are we good? Cause I didn’t think we had anything to talk about. I mean, I know we haven’t exactly said we were going to keep things subtle in front of our friends, but-”

“Bucky,” you interrupt. He stops his rambling to look at you with wide, puppy eyes. “Breathe, baby. I just want to talk.”

Bucky nods, allowing you to keep talking.

“First, I want to know if there is a reason you don’t like for people to see us acting like a couple.” 

Bucky sighs, “it’s not that I don’t want to show you off, it’s just that...” He’s quiet. 

You can tell it’s taking a lot from him to express this to you, so you’re willing to be patient with him. 

“I’m scared, Y/n.” 

Your eyes soften as you grab one of Bucky’s hands. “Honey, what are you afraid of?”

He looks down, embarrassed, “you know I don’t really have a good record in, well, anything. My whole life is just one never-ending stream of unfortunate events. When I’m with you though, I feel really lucky. I know it’s sounds stupid and irrational, but I was just scared if people saw how happy I finally am, you would get taken from me, or I would mess things up and you’d be gone.”

Bucky sighs, and lifts his head to gauge your reaction. “I know it doesn’t excuse how I’ve been to you, how I must have made you feel, and I can’t apologize enough, doll. I’m so sorry that I didn’t make you feel as important to me as you are, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was ashamed of you. I promise I’m not. I love you so much, darling,  I’m so sorry.”

Bucky’s eyes start to water as he desperately squeezes onto your hand. 

You sigh and comfortingly rub your thumb cross the back of his hand. “i’m not mad at you, or upset by what you did, Buck. I kind of had a feeling there was something wrong and a reason you didn’t like showing our relationship to others. I should have talked to you sooner and not let Tony get involved. I’m sorry for that, by the way. I feel bad how Tony put you on the spot like that.”

Bucky chuckles, “it’s not your fault, but thanks anyway.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I want people to see us and know we’re together.”

You giggle, “so you aren’t scared anymore?”

“I can’t let the fear of this being over in the future stop me from living happily in the present. I want to be with you all  the time, not just when no one is around.”

You smile and stand up, pulling on Bucky’s hand so he stands as well. “Come on, let’s go let our friends know we’ve figured things out.”

Bucky chuckles and follows behind you, ready and willing to follow you anywhere.