#bring back galaxy leggings

[mutatedponies]

petition to bring back 2014 galaxy 😊🙈🦄😝🍭🥳

[aboutnavi]

I genuinely, wholeheartedly think we should bring back galaxy leggings. And I don’t mean like… let’s make it a trend so it will be cool when I used it. No. Just bring it back enough that I can find a place to buy it. People can still find it weird and cringe or whatever, I don’t care but it’s impossible now to find a place to buy it and I’m going insane because I really want one.

[tiramissyoucake]

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. More marriage with Viltrum Mark ty for liking the last one, I wrote this wit a headache

CW: not proof-read, forced marriage, fem reader, dub-con, straight piv, partially clothed, I don't know shit about the garter tradition, some dirty talk idk, Mark is way too horny about getting married

It was odd. The wedding had so many 'earth' traditions carried out. Mark slipping a ring on your finger and watching you do the same, bringing a Viltrumite of a high position to declare you married, kissing you tenderly like he didn't take away everything from you for his selfish desire, he did it under the impression that it'd please you, all it did was make you miss home.

You dreaded the bedroom the most as he carried you back, the silver white of his clothes duller than the pure white that hugged your body; the one he requested. There was no use clawing or fighting him like you did during the first few weeks on this planet, he was stronger and as much as you hated to admit he was right; there's nowhere to go on Viltrum or the galaxy.

You were snapped out of the despaired haze as Mark impatiently dropped you on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, sitting on his knees with all his decorum gone, he panted. "I've been waiting for this." lifting your legs as the garter came into view, the dress spilling and compiling at your waist.

"Earther men have some sort of custom related to this," he started, looking between you and that flimsy piece of fabric that clamped around the meat of your thigh, gaze sharp and hungry. "The groom removes this from his bride, right?"

You noted how he paused, as if waiting for you to answer, you glanced away uncomfortably. "... It's mainly a... 'western' tradition."

"But an Earther one, right?" He seemed too eager to listen to objections, lips running over your thigh, a trembled sigh coating your skin as if he couldn't believe this was happening, you resisted the urge to squirm. "Let me have you." He mumbled.

His teeth clamped onto the cloth, ensuring he had a firm grip as he tugged it down, painfully slowly. Sharp eyes looking up at you to drink up your emotions; embarrassment? Love? Fear? Mark convinced himself it was all the same with you.

After removing it, he spat the garment aside, so abruptly it made you jump, "Lay back." He demanded quietly as he climbed into the lavish bed, mattress sinking under his weight.

His hands quickly trailed over your body, lips hurriedly coming down to meet yours in a yearning kiss, feeling you, drinking you in. "My bride... my beautiful bride.." he mumbled to himself between kisses, parting his lips to deepen the kiss further as he practically moaned into your mouth.

Your hands came up under the assumption that he'd try to remove the dress before he swatted one hand away impatiently. "No. Keep it on." He almost growled as he tugged your thighs closer, his hard length pressing against you beneath the fabric. "I want to fuck you in this dress."

There was something about touching you and kissing you as you were dolled up for him that drove him insane. Was it the outfit? The clothes? The fact that it's your wedding night? He didn't care.

He undid his robes, Viltrum clothes coming undone as he tugged his waistband down enough, grunting as his cock sprang free, throbbing and ready to finally consummate. "Look what you do to me.." his hand tugged up your wedding dress impatiently, your face reddened at the harsh gesture, grasping his wrist. "Mark..!"

"Oh, relax... I'm your husband now." Mark's hands clutched the waistband of your panties, tugging them off normally would require him to move, so his fists clenched around the fabric as he easily shredded it to pieces, eliciting a shocked noise from you. "What're you doing..?! You could've moved!"

"Not even a thousand men could move me right now." He shot back, eyeing you with such a hungry look it made you embarrassed to be seen by him, his gaze remained on you as he threw aside the flimsy fabric.

"My formalwear and your dress stay." He panted, shuffling closer and caging you between his arms. "This is our first night together... as husband and wife." His lips stretched to a smile, it sounded like he was narrating this to himself out of pure ecstasy.

"S-slow, please— slow—" your lips parted in shock feeling the head of his cock slowly rub and push against you, his eyes squinting but never closing as he committed every detail of your face's changes to memory, inch by delicious inch.

"My cute wife..." he practically moaned, hips pressing against you harshly as he bottomed out. "Mmmmh.. I love you.. say it back to me.."

You couldn't speak, not when his hips immediately picked up a rhythm, his dick forcing a moan out of you with every thrust, nestling deeper and deeper with every 'plap!' That resounded. "Say it back— mmh, fuck.. say you love me.."

Sweat coated your body quickly, the dress making you even more heated as it was trapped underneath. "L-love... you..!" You barely strung the words together, your moans and noises resounding faster than you could speak.

Plap! Plap! Plap! The sweat pooling under your dress, The throb of his cock, his moaning flooding your senses, his height and size consuming you as he leaned over you, you could barely focus on anything as your jaw hung slack moaning aimlessly.

"Yeah? You love me?" He sounded like a kid in a candy shop, he always got like this when you showed a smidge of affection. "Of course— mmh, of course you would.. I'm your husband after all... hah..."

His hands pushed your palms open, jamming his fingers between yours as his hips pistoned into you, pussy struggling to accommodate his crushing speed, overwhelming you mentally and physically. "I'll make sure you're full of my cum, it's what my cute wife deserves, isn't it?" He punctuated his point with a harsh buck of his hips.

"You'll be the happiest woman in the entire fucking galaxy, fuck..!" Mark hissed, the discomfort of sweat piling onto his skin was nothing compared to the pleasure of your cunt sucking him in. "I love you, I love you... fuck, I love you...!"

He took advantage of your open mouth to kiss you sloppily, his tongue filling your mouth easily as he swallowed your moans. It was disgusting and debauched, just how he liked you.

"Hah, 'm gonna cum.." he groaned between kisses, moving his hips faster— curse his Viltrumite stamina. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel you tightening." He grinned at your cock-dumb expression, trying to ground yourself in reality through the pounding in your womb, the shameful sloppy slapping echoing from your hips taunting you.

"Cum for me, cum on your husband's cock." He demanded over your moans, holding his own against you, though it wasn't long before you were sent over the edge, stilling and shaking as your orgasm practically shook you at your core, your tightening cunt catching him off-guard.

"D-don't do that you— Nnh..!!" Mark gritted his teeth as his cock finally, finally, filled you. he desperately slammed his hips down one final time to ensure no drop would escape you unless it was because he filled you too much, his loud groaning shadowing your moans as he tightened his hold over your hands, hot load spilling and spilling.

The full feeling in your cunt, your husband panting over you as he slumped into your breasts, hugging you closely like an emotional support plushie, it would have been sweet had he not still been nestled inside you. "G-Give me... 5 minutes... and we'll go again.."

You gasped as you sat up a bit to look down at him, alarmed. "A-again..?!"

He looked at you with such a tired but smug expression, hair tousled more so than usual now as he laughed. "I'm not like those puny earthling men, it's our wedding night, I plan to make the most of it..."

[milkiclouds]

leon kennedy has a lot of moles, peppering across his body like a cosmic galaxy waiting to be connected together with the invisible ink of your fingers. most noticeable were the moles along his neck and collarbones, peeking out from his clothes and uniform. majority of them painted his back. there was a secret mole on his left hand - hiding between his pointer finger and his thumb. and a few more spreading across his arms and legs.

you had a habit of kissing his moles, every single one of them, but your favorite one to kiss was the mole on his stomach, right next to his belly button, perfectly placed to bring out the sweetest giggles every single time you did.

today was no different as you kissed his stomach, exposed from his shirt as it bunched up from his sleep. the laughter came out in uncharacteristic whines, too tired to actually squirm away.

“stop… it’s too early...”

you didn’t stop in favor of placing just a few more kisses against his stomach, the mark acting like the ‘x’ on the treasure map of his body. you finally relented, giving him once last kiss and finishing off with a gentle nibble causing him to jump and yelp in surprised laughter.

resting your head on his stomach you looked up at him as he met your loving gaze, his face flushed - another reason you loved kissing his moles.

“why do you always kiss me there?” he asked. “it’s ticklish.”

“you have a mole.”

he stared at you before letting out an exasperated chuckle at your simple response and mumbling how he didn’t understand you. yes, of course, he knew he had a mole. and while he was never insecure about them, the fact that they were the target of your lips and fingers made his heart thump in chest.

because while they were just moles to him… they were beauty marks to you.

a/n: hi i really like that they spent so much time mapping out moles on his body huhu plus i swear he has a mole on his tummy in one of the mods i swearrr lol i have a lot of moles myself and idk it made me love him more and i thought this was a cute thought hopefully i executed it okay bc i have not written in years

also dividers are by @cafekitsune bc i’m obsessed and they’re cute af

[bigfatbimbo]

I love you like an Alcoholic

2.1k words,, Bill x Reader

a/n — You did it, you saved the town.

warnings — NSFW, dom!reader, sub!Bill, toxic relationships, book of bill time era, orgasm denial, ambiguous superpowers, NOT PROOFREAD**

summary — Bill goes to his incredibly powerful (moreso than him) business partner, you, to try to get him out of theraprism. Things take a turn.

“I had to pull a lot of strings for this Bill,” you cross your legs and lean back in your thrown. 

Bill straightens his bow-tie, “Well toots, what if I told you I can make it worth your while?”

You breathe and then get up from your chair, “I’d tell you to stop floating in my lair. It’s distracting.”

Snapping your fingers, a bar appears in your otherwise empty room. While pouring yourself a drink, you can feel Bills eye-roll from across the room.

With a tip of his hat, his more human form appears, and sits down at the bar stool next to you. “Better?”

“Could do with more abs.”

He laughs but doesn’t change his appearance, “So, y/n. We go way back, right? I’m not gonna sugar code it, you’ve always been one of my favorites to do business with, doll. Wanna know why?”

“The fact i’m always so interested in what you have to say?”

His eye practically twitched at your indifference. Your attention was never payed in full. “Ha! Don’t flatter your self, pal. No, i’ll tell you why: did you know out of everyone in the galaxy, you’re the only equal I do business with?”

Your eyebrow arches, “equal?”

“Humor me,” he doesn’t give you the chance to reply before continuing. “Now, given my current position in ‘necessary therapy’—“ he makes a point of doing obnoxious air quotes, “—I don’t have much to occupy my days. And we both know i’d be of better use to you out here, right?”

You took another sip of your wine before getting up from the bar and walking over to your throne. The bar disappears behind you, leaving cipher ass-flat on the ground.

“Oh come on—“ His open eye turns red momentarily, before he dusts himself off, “Look, it’s hard being a god, y/n, I know that much. With that responsibility, I think a business partner would do you good. And all you’d have to do is bail me out, that’s practically no downside for you at all, buddy.”

Your patience had been wearing thin, and without further consideration you let out a larger grown from your chair, “Cipher, you’re a liability. I don’t want you. I’m honestly struggling to find enjoyment in sharing a drink with you, despite our history.”

A flick of your hand lifts him off his feet and brings him over to you, “Thought you had a no floating policy, eh?” There’s no fear in his voice, but there is in his eye. He’s losing.

“I’m gonna make this clear to you. You’re gonna take your disgusting human form, and you’re gonna march your happy ass back to theraprism, and you’re gonna stay there. Want my advice? Stop being so damn pathetic.”

A portal opens to take him back and he struggles in your invisible grasp, “No, wait! Please, I’ll do anything, just wait!” 

A human form was already a disadvantage, one he’d accepted in order to strike a deal, but a disadvantage still. And he hadn’t had any contact in a long time, aside from various psychiatrists telling him what’s ’wrong with him.’ 

So, you being someone he has history with could have contributed to his annoyingly human problem. Maybe it was the excitement, your attention or the lack there of, but something terrible happened at that moment. 

“Jesus, Bill. You really have hit rock bottom,” You murmur to yourself as you pull his floating body closer to you, your fingers dance around the bulge without touching it.

“Hey, hey, watch it— Your the one that made me have this stupid fleshbag, anyways— cut that out!” He struggled in the air, finding that he just couldn’t turn back into his normal form. You’re doing, he’d assume. 

To his dismay, you giggle and lean back, “Well now i’m enjoying myself. Now this I could help with, Cipher,”

“Ah, ah pass! Just get me down from here and—“ Back to prison? He’d have to swallow his pride on this one. And besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t like it… “Whatever you want, doll. I’m here all night.”

You examine him further, “Is that so?” 

Before he can answer, you drop him to his knees in front of you. “Ow! Careful with the merchandise, sweetheart. I’m not in mint condition these days— ah!”

Your foot presses down lightly on the bulge in his pants, and your fingers grab onto his chin, “Been a minute since we’ve done this. Huh, Cipher?”

He nods, going to say something, before you interject, “So i’d be good if I was you, baby.”

You press down on his hard-on with more pressure, watching Ciphers face flicker, biting his lip, before letting on a whimper. 

Despite not being his first encounter, so to speak, with you of this nature, it never failed to eat as his pride. And furthermore, despite this, it felt good. If Bill was anything, he was selfish. He could admit he was letting it happen for himself, instead of in spite of himself. So it can’t be that humiliating?

But in this position, there’s always shame.

“Y/n — give me a break—“ He breathed, eye twitching. 

You rolled your eyes and snapped your fingers, with that, his pants were gone and his dick was exposed. That’s another thing he could do without: your unpredictability 

“Next time, say please. Asshole.” You say, lifting him up with your powers once more.

“Wow, buddy. I’m not the one being the jerk here—“ It came out quick, as Bill words often did. But these ones he regretted immediately.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Tough crowd?” He felt a sensation tugging at the base of his dick, indicating the start of mind games that wouldn’t end anytime soon.

He backtracked. Play it off. “Yeesh, you’re a tough crowd! Did I say jerk? You heard me wrong, I meant lovely— Ah, wait! Wait!”

A wave of pleasure flooded his senses abruptly, followed by a short pinch of pain, similar to what a mortal feels when they prick their finger on a piece of metal. Does that happen a lot? They’re all so clutsy, can’t be that out of the ordinary—

“Smooth talk your way out and maybe I’ll lighten the blow, yeah?” You smile cruelly, hand dangling out, flexing as if teasing what you could do to him.

“I— I know we’ve had our disagreements but I— augh!” A spike of pain, his eye rolled back a bit, “You— I’ve always admired your work— Yes! Respected you even, you’re an idol, sweetheart, ah, yes!”

With each compliment a burst of pleasure would go through him, landing at his unnatural dick, now leaking with precum. He was nearly babbling, but he was as aware of that as he was aware of the fact it was dearly encouraged.

“Very good, Billy. You’re too sweet, really.” Your voice was smooth and you bit your lip, watching him writhe with pleasure mid-air.

“A-anything for you, toots! Ah, more, more!”

He didn’t notice he said anything wrong this time until it was too late, but your face had noticeably darkened at the statement. 

“That’s awful demanding for someone in your position, dontcha’ think?” You weren’t actually mad, of course you weren’t. But you loved to you with him, and you took every opportunity. One of the reasons Bill tried to avoid you when he could; you were far too similar people, dealing in cruelty for the sake of entertainment.

“Wha- No wait!” The attention to his dick ceased to exist, and he was left with only aching for attention again, despite the fact you never gave anything physical in the first place. 

All mind games. “That’s- That’s not fair!”

“I’d watch who you were talking too, baby,” You flick your hand, spreading out his body parts mid air, hard leaking cock protruding out, crying for any kind of sensation. 

“You know what I can do. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you,” You sigh expectantly.

Bill tried to speak to defend himself, to talk his way out, but he found his ability to gone.

“I can make you do what I want, Cipher. Can make you feel whatever I want. Extraordinary pain—“ He cries out for a split second, eye flashing with fear, “—Or overwhelming pleasure.”

This time his eye rolled back, and he moans in wonderful agony, unable to move expect for wriggling his body parts weakly. His dick twitched.

“You like that feeling?”

He nods weakly, eyes fogging up, letting a small whimper escape.

“Don’t want me to hurt you?” Another nod, “Want me to make you feel good? Think you deserve it?”

“Ah— y/n, I need…” He swallows, revising his words in his mind, “Please, I need this.”

It’s true, Bill had never reached such a low in his entire existence. And he wasn’t sure if this interaction was pushing him further down or making him feel better. Now, however, he was struggling to think.

“Aw, baby. You have taken your punishment well? Been having a rough time too..” Your tone switched to something softer, almost to a condescending note.

His pathetic appearance did him justice, he pretended this was on purpose. 

Either way, a whine slipped from his throat and he shut his eyes, playing into it. You cooed in response, bringing him closer to you in order to run your hand along the side of his cheek. 

A spurt of pleasure shoots through his dick once more, and now he can’t help but yearn for something more. “Touch me— I need it— Please.” He threw in, trying to help his chances, despite the struggle at forming a coherent thought other than need.

“Hm,” You consider. Finally you reach out, running a finger along the base of his cock, to the tip. “You really want me to?”

He nodded desperately, mouth falling open to let out a small whine. Swear bedded his hot, red face, and dripped down, make his multiple chins glisten. Ugh, you preferred him further away. His already greasy looking hair was now slick against his forehead, and his eyes were glazed over. 

You slowly shift all of your fingers onto his shaft and then saintly drag them up and down for the first few strokes. A gutteral whimper falls from Ciphers mouth, “Oh, yes!”

“What do we say, baby?” You ask, grip tightening suddenly as if to bring him back to reality, but not too tight. 

“Ah— Thank you!” He’d almost forgotten to detest you for making him say that. And he’d almost forgotten to remind himself to be mad after he was done feeling good.

He used to daydream about taking you down after these sessions. Rising to power and having you at his feet. But now he only wants to keep your attention on him. Now it’s all he can think about. 

You continue to stroke his leaking cock, leaning in to kiss his cheek fat, “Good boy.”

He moaned, “Don’t do that-“

“I’m not patronizing you. I mean it, you’re acting better than usual and i’m glad. Maybe you’re more desperate, or touch-starved, but you’re doing good. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Ah—“ He would have came right there if he could. And in the most literal sense, he couldn’t. You weren’t letting him. “Please, let me come. I can’t do this, have mercy, I’ll do anything—“

“I don’t know, I’m having a good time. Why should I?” Another desperate need to release wipes over him, an uncontrollable need that was actively being controlled. 

Despite himself, he teared up. His fingers rose to touch his face, which he realized, was now damp with falling tears, “No, no, no! I can’t- I’ve never- Human bodies— I need to. Please!”

You look at him and smile. 

“I’ve been good,” He reminded you.

With that, you have in. Your other hand moved away to snap your fingers, a gesture that wasn’t need to carry out the action, but to show that he’d earned his reward. 

“Yes! Thank you! Oh gods— Oh-“ He leaned back, finally having the orgasm that was being withheld from him. And god, it felt good.

You felt good, and he hated that. 

[starrdream]

My dearest nemesis

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: Things get heated after seeing your fellow Jedi friend on a mission. includes: SMUT!!, top ani, doggy style in a spaceship, enemies with benefits cross posted on ao3

Being a Sith apprentice wasn’t very easy, especially not when you were sneaking away to hook up with a fellow Jedi any chance you got.

Seeing Anakin was always a difficult task. Together with your Master, you’ve been working against The Republic and Jedi order non-stop for years.

And the prophecy? It loomed over you. Anakin was the Chosen One, destined to destroy the Sith and bring peace to the galaxy.

Just this morning you were sent on a mission to destroy some of the Republic’s important bases.

The second you were given your ship, you knew it would be an awful trip, or worse, a potentially failed mission. The engine broke down before you could even take off, once It was fixed it was simply too loud. The hum was constant and obnoxious which meant you couldn’t get any sleep during the near 6 hour trip.

It was safe to say that you were exhausted when you arrived. You couldn’t even deny it yourself-your eyes were being forced open every few minutes, your connection with the force was sloppy and weak. You didn’t even know how you managed to disarm 3 out of the 4 bases stationed there.

It was getting darker and darker by the minute and it only made you more anxious and on edge. Time was not on your side.

Once you were inside the fourth one, you had to get rid of too many droids and clones for your liking.

You scrambled to deteriorate an alarm system as quickly as possible so you could escape without anyone noticing you. Thanks to your lack of sleep and recklessness, you managed to knock your lightsaber out your belt.

“Damnit..” You mutter quietly, bending over to pick it up quickly before the sound of it rolling around the tile floor could cause anyone to find you.

As quickly as you stood up you froze. The familiar sound of a lightsaber humming filled the room-unfortunately, it was not yours. You slowly turn around, cursing yourself for being so clumsy and careless.

“My dearest nemesis..” A familiar voice chuckled.

“Anakin” You breathe out in relief, shoulders and neck relaxing despite his lightsaber being mere inches from your face.

“I’m offended you hadn’t sensed me sooner” He feigns offense.

“The Force isn’t on my side today..” You say as he inches his weapon closer, causing you to tilt your head back more “Missed me yet?”

“Always.” He smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Without another word, he turned off his lightsaber and put it back in his belt before pulling you in. Grabbing your wrists, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Let’s get you out of here shall we?” He mumbles.

Bending you over the control panel of his spaceship, Anakin caressed your sides and mumbled into your ear, chest pressed against your bare back.

“You always run into me when I’m on missions..” He kisses the side of your neck, making you mewl “I’m supposed to be destroying the Sith.”

“Well you sure are about to destroy me..” You grind your hips against his teasingly, feeling his growing arousal strain against his robes.

“The things that come out of your mouth..” Anakin chuckles breathlessly, his grip tightens as he pulls away just enough to slide his pants off.

“You ready m’lady?” He says, parting your legs with his knee as you squirm and rub your ass against his pelvis

The second you nod, he slips two finges inside you, stretching you out slowly and thoroughly, causing your hips to buck against his hand and grind on it shamelessly.

“Always so wet and ready..” He groans at the feeling, pumping his fingers in and out a few more times before pulling out completely.

You whine at the loss of stimulation, pushing your hips further against him.

“Alright gorgeous, we’ll start..” Anakin chuckles, giving himself a few strokes as his tip presses up against your throbbing entrance.

A loud gasp escapes you as he slowly pushes himself inside, giving you a few seconds to adjust before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back balls deep. Your walls clamped tighter onto his cock, as if trying to pull him deeper.

He slams into you hard with every thrust, arm wrapping around your waist to keep you still while he fucks you senseless. The entirety of the ship’s cockpit was filled with sounds of balls clapping against your bottom, your desperate moans and Anakin’s ragged breaths and whimpers.

"Keep those pretty noises up for me yeah?" He bites on you shoulder gently.

With each powerful thrust he drove you closer to the edge, increasing your desire for the sweet release.

“Mmm pl-please Ani,” You whine. “H-harder” You cry out.

“I wonder wh-what your master’s gonna say.” His hand creeps up the back of your neck, pulling your head back slightly by the hair. “When you come back tomorrow, limping and all sensitive…Could you tell him you were railed by a Jedi?”

“F-no” You moan as you release all over his cock. He continues to thrust in and out, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from you.

“Didn’t-didn’t fucking think so..” He mumbles hoarsely as he finishes as well, filling you up with his sticky hot cum.

A few more thrusts and he pulls out , leaving you feeling empty and causing some of your mixed juices to slip out of your sensitive pussy and run down your inner thigh.

“Get out of here before the lookout troops find you, their shift starts in an hour” He gives your neck a firm kiss as he puts his robes back on, ushering you to do the same.

You get dressed too, straightening your hair out with your hands and adjusting your belt.

“See ya around y/n..” Anakin smirks, drawing out your name. “Don’t let the Jedi catch you again.” He winks, giving your ass a playful smack as you walk past him annoyed.

He might be an arrogant, childish idiot, but he was your arrogant, childish idiot.

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 3: Alien

I've read so much alien romance by now—it's a good way to incorporate monsters ngl—I feel like I have seen it all. And yet, there is just something about it that I will never tire of ♥

Prompt: Day 3: Alien | Otherworldly // Uncanny Valley // Space Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Threats, (Alien) Blood Mention, Killing (of aliens), Getting cut), Abduction & being auctioned off situation, Belittling of Humans, Alien Manipulation

"And next up: A very rare pet of the type "human"! Directly imported from their home planet, "Earth," to be loved and cared for! Bidding starts at one million GSC!"

You felt terribly exposed without your clothes, merciless, harsh lights burning down on you, and no shade to hide in. Even with your arms tightly wrapped around your body, legs tugged in and crossed over, you still felt the stares of the creatures below, even if you couldn't see them. Their hungry growls and huffs echoed all around you while the price kept rising.

The lanky stature of the monster that hosted this auction paced back and forth on the edge of the stage, asking for participation and making this deal worthwhile. The creature looked like a humanoid cricket, with spindly legs, four arms, and three fingers on each hand that it kept pointing left and right.

"Four million GSC! Four-point-five million GSC! Do I hear five? Five million, thank you!"

You couldn't help the tears filling your eyes as you listened to the worth of your self, something you never had a say in determining. Even with your father swearing up and down that he adored and cherished you more than his own life, you knew that his gambling addiction would one day ruin everything you loved. You just didn't think he'd go as far as to sell you—to aliens nonetheless.

On earth, you had thought you had seen it all—highs and lows, in person or on television. But in your cell on the spaceship that flew you through the cosmos, you learned you knew nothing. You were a tiny speck in this endless design, and it left you feeling empty and meaningless.

You met quite a few species back when you were waiting for the auction to take place. Humanoids, insectoids, and some completely unexplainable. You learned that most aliens sold themselves to wealthier species to live a better life, not so much concerned with pride or shame as humans were. Thus, the existence of an enslaved human caused quite a ruckus in the galaxy. You had yet to learn the worth of GSC—the currency beyond your planet—but apparently, one million was akin to a yearly income here.

"Twenty-five million GSC! What an amazing price for a priceless pet! At this point, it will only be fair if you lovely participants know what you're getting into!"

At this, you finally raised your head again, bracing your eyes against the painful light as the thumping of steps closed in on you. A three-fingered hand reached out for your arm, and as green and gnarly as it was, its movements were fast and precise. You cowered away but weren't as quick and nimble, and the fingers were large enough to wrap around your upper arm, yanking you back.

Without any warning, a small claw emerged from one of the alien's free hands, cutting you right above its own fingers around your flesh that held you in place. You gasped but the creature hummed approvingly before it dabbed a white tissue to the wound, soaking up the blood. Unnecessarily harsh, the monster discarded your arm again, making sure to let you know how much you really meant to it with all its actions—nothing.

You were simply a means to an end. One that would hopefully bring lots of money.

If not for the precarious state, you should have been angry. Angry at your father, angry at the world—the whole galaxy even! How dare they sell you like a piece of meat with no regard for your well-being and wishes! Sure, they weren't used to the pridefulness of a race they deemed weak yet untouchable by the laws of their organization. But the way they treated you, abused you, and disregarded all of your self as if you truly were a mindless animal only seeking food and shelter to simply survive was beyond insulting!

You were still a human! The superior race on your planet. You still had intelligence and empathy and deserved so much more than their belittling treatment!

But here, you were nothing. The alien disappeared with the sample of your blood, and you saw it bend down at the edge of the stage, leaving you to assume it was passing the tissue to someone else, who, in turn, probably gave it to the patrons of this establishment. The crowd suddenly erupted in a heated cacophony of sounds. More groans and huffs spread through the masses, and the alien auctioneer clapped his four hands together as more offers were yelled into the room.

You were just a piece of meat. One to purchase and show off, play with, ruin, break, and then force to be the good pet that they paid millions for. At this point, you were pretty sure that they wouldn't stop and keep your dignity intact. That no one here truly cared whether you'd be happy or scared or embarrassed.

"Fifty-three million! Sixty-four! Do I hear sixty-five—Seventy million GSC!"

The enthusiastic grunts and murmurs made you sick to the stomach, and you hunched over, cowering in your position. Maybe they were right; perhaps you really were just an expensive piece of meat.

You hadn't given the future too much thought yet, too afraid of the present after you were kidnapped and shipped to space. But what if, despite them calling you "pet", you'd actually be killed and eaten? What if once you weren't new, weren't special anymore, you'd simply be discarded, ending up on the streets of an alien planet where you were at the mercy of those creatures? What would you do if they were all hulking, strong beasts that could throw you around like a ragdoll, hurting you, abusing you?

Or worse... Oh god, you could think of so many more things they could do, and yet you were too afraid to form the thoughts in your head.

There were so many cruel ideas in your head as you sat there, hunched over, despair filling your body and mind. You had to do something, had to get away. Pride was one thing, but survival was the most primal need you had in you. And as much as you wished for it all to be over, how could you possible achieve this? How could you, a simple human make them stop tormenting you? Secretly, you had already accepted their superiority; it had been this way since the old ages. Masses made you humans strong, but you alone? No chance.

"Do you wish to end all of this?"

Your ragged breath came to a halt, your head slowly turning to the side from where the voice came. There was no explaining what you were looking at, those humanoid features so similar to humans, yet somehow their features were sharper, elongated, cheekbones too high to be real, the nose too slim to look functional. The creature's body was lean and tall, its torso almost entirely in view from above the stage. You examined them for a long time, their blue skin standing out against the harsh lights. You spied the flick of a tail behind them every so often, sleek with a puff of hair at the end. And despite being so different, somehow, they scared you less than the aliens you had seen on your journey here.

"S-Sir, with all due respect, you're not supposed to approach them without them being restrained."

The auctioneer called out to them, stepping in front of you and blocking the line of sight unsuccessfully with its spindly, insectoid legs. You shuddered at the thought of going back into the restraints you had woken up in after being knocked out and readied for shipment. "What if they attack you or get filth all over you? These creatures are known to spit," he added more quietly, hoping to appease the one standing in front of the stage, their tail flicking more often now. Was it annoyance that crossed their features? Or did the light blind you to see the truth?

The creature's gaze lingered on you for a while longer, their eyes drilling into you from between the gaps in the legs before their head snapped upwards rapidly, lips parting in a menacing grimace. "Let them speak," they growled, and the auctioneer jumped back, sputtering before moving to the side.

Only now did you notice the deadly silence in the hall, and you slowly unfurled from your hunched-over position, looking up. But not without your arms tightening around you, shielding you a little from being exposed.

The alien's head fell back down, facing forward, the movement much gentler, less frightening—intentional. Their dark blue gaze softened, no pupils but swirls of lighter blues and purples swaying in them. And then they smiled, and it almost seemed comforting, if there weren't two rows of spiked teeth. One of their hands raised from below the stage—another uncanny feature as their arms were just too long—and the other settled on the stage tapping on it, beckoning you closer.

When the other arm emerged, it held a smooth kind of fabric in it, maybe a coat or a rag, but the dark blue color glistened in the direct light made you assume it was something better than a poor person's rag as they spread it out on the edge of the stage, pushing it in your direction as far as possible.

"It's okay now," they purred, and a sudden relief washed over you, their words sinking into you like a warm hug and reassuring backrub would, your jaw unclenching and shoulders sinking. Something about them calmed you, and although your brain was telling you to be extra careful, you couldn't help but feel connected to them. Hesitantly but curious, you inched closer, fingertips reaching for the fabric. Part of you expected the creature to pull it away from you the moment you attempted anything, but they didn't move, didn't even breathe. It was unnerving how still they could be, still like a trick of your mind, an illusion, but the soft fabric beneath your hand was very real, and you tugged at it warily.

It followed your pull, and soon enough, you pressed it to your chest, covering up your naked body. Greed settled in as you reached for more with your other hand, spreading the blue around you, the fabric seemingly never-ending, at least not until you had utterly cocooned yourself in it, nothing but your face and a few strands of your hair still looking out of it.

It had this grounding smell that enveloped you like a second layer of fabric, sweet and earthy, but also reminded you of the ocean you used to visit at home. Your heart ached as you took another deep breath, unwilling to part with the memory.

You couldn't help a shuddering breath from escaping as you looked back up at the creature. So much closer to them now, their size was even more towering, yet you didn't hesitate to look into these intriguing eyes of theirs, the swirls now creating pools of depth inside of them with how fast they were circling, looking as if they were entirely fixated on you.

"Thank you," you muttered, genuinely grateful for the help.

"My pleasure," they replied, their long-limbed arm reaching out, catching the loose strands of hair and twirling them in their fingertips. You felt like you needed to recoil, but for some reason, you didn't move, completely at peace with the creature touching you, their skin smelling much like the fabric around you. "Now, about my question. Do you wish to end all of this?"

It was a strangely phrased, hard-to-interpret question, but you didn't wreck your head before agreeing with a nod. You did want all of this to end; you didn't want to be a pet to some strange creature that was paying a lump sum just to own you. They were all the same greedy monsters that your father was: heartless and unsympathetic. Why would you not want to end this damned situation?

"Wonderful, but I'll have you know that that power comes at a price," they chuckled, hand falling from your hair to your cheek. A large palm cupped your face, thumb splitting off to caress your lower lip, pressing against it, their gaze fixating on the plumpness jumping back in place after being fondled. Then, their hand slid further down, unwrapping your neck from the fabric and slipping around your throat to the thumping spot of your puls that it wrapped around.

"Are you willing to pay that price?"

"B-But Sir! Please..." someone whimpered from beside you, but it was nearly impossible to break eye contact with the alien before you and acknowledge whoever was speaking. They had a mesmerizing aura to themselves, the swirls captivating your attention, and you felt ashamed to say they fascinated you. It felt wrong, yet... right. Was it supposed to feel that way?

"What's the price?" you mumbled, a part of you still a good human, aware that nothing came for cheap and everything should be in equal value.

"Mhm," the creature hummed thoughtfully, but not appalled by your question, their thin lips curving into a grin similar to that of a human but more foxish and uncanny.

"Your life to do what I please with, in exchange for..."

They made another thoughtful sound before the rumble in their chest turned into a purr. Their lips split into that menacing smile from before, many sharp teeth creating pristinely white rows, and you knew they thought themselves on the winning side. You felt their grip around your throat tighten, and with an unexpected yank, you were pulled forward, just a breath away from their face.

"How about every life that dares to look at you with appalling intentions? Every soul, or the equivalent in their respective race, in this room, calling you a mere pet? Every alien that touched you as if you were an object of their possession? Anyone that has ever or will in the future harm you? Would that be enough, little human? Do you require more from me? It shall be yours. Your life in my hands in exchange for everything you could want—and my coat."

You tightened the fabric around your body, a waft of the sweet scent you smelled before tingling your nostrils. It was a damn good coat, and an even better offer.

Somehow, it bothered you less to hear you'd still be sold like a slave—although perhaps better a slave than a pet. At least it would be on your terms, right? Or the alien's... Your head felt dizzy as you thought about it. If this was the promise, you could live with it. You'd at least get out of this situation and live to see another day. And you were so angry at these creatures around you, your father, everything! Why should you care about them? Right, you shouldn't. You should... agree. Take the deal and be done with it. Dealing with one alien was better than all the others.

"Do you swear to keep your promise?" you asked, and the creature sighed blissfully, nodding their head before resting their forehead to yours. Tension that you hadn't realized had been there before left their body, and you noticed their free hand creeping up on stage, closer to your bundled-up form.

"I swear," they uttered solemnly, and you nodded in acknowledgment.

"So do I."

"S-Sir! You cannot disrupt this auction as you please! There are rules on the Galactic Space Hub that prohibit direct selling of wares and—"

The sound of squashing flesh interrupted the auctioneer's speech, and your eyes widened—as did the creature's cheeky grin. You felt something hot and wet splatter on your coat but didn't realize what it was until it hit the alien in front of you on the face. Your head slowly turned with hesitant movements, but their free hand reached up, keeping your face forward instead while hushing you.

"Don't look," they chuckled, and chaos erupted in all forms of sounds around you. Neighing, squawking, and the occasional grunts were to be heard everywhere. You couldn't ignore the squashing, sputtering sounds of fluids and flesh being cut open, your body shivering with not even the coat being able to keep you warm all of a sudden as you came to a realization of what kind of deal you had made.

"Shh, shh," the alien hushed, bringing a hand up to their own face to wipe away the alien guts that had splattered them. With a flick of their wrist, they returned the arm to your back and wrapped it around you. "Just keep looking at me, don't look at them. It's your turn to keep your promise and not to disobey my orders. I hope you remember your part of the deal and spare yourself the misery."

Pulling you off the stage, you were cradled against their chest, flat and tight under what looked oddly similar to a vest and dress shirt from earth, intricate patterns decorating the seams. The curiosity of any human wanted you to look and witness the devastation that had taken place, but you couldn't tear yourself away from this strange, otherworldly creature, their command seemingly effective.

"Your Majesty, it is done. What do you wish to do now?"

"Hm," the creature hummed, leaning forward a little more, lips almost brushing yours. You held your breath, fingers clawing into their shoulders. You tensed in their hold as they carried you out of the harsh spotlight, shrouding you in the darkness that had once given privacy to the aliens trying to buy you for their own pleasure. But nothing more than silence was left now, and it was an eery one, paired with many pungent yet alluring smells around you.

"Ready my ship," the alien ordered, and you felt hypnotized by their eyes paired with their smell so close to you now. Tempted, almost, to have a taste of their lips, see if they tasted the same as they smelled. "Sent a fleet ahead of us and tell the court I am finally coming home."

They grinned again, and you should have recoiled from the sharp teeth shining in the darkness. Their whole body seemed glowing even outside of the light.

"And tell them I bring back my blood mate, my newly betrothed, and prepare for the harvest."

You gasped as you heard the creature announce their plans, pushing away from them and managing to tear away from their hypnotic gaze. No one said anything about your blood! What were their intentions? What did they want with your blood? How much blood did they want? You thought this would merely end in you being a companion, rather than a mere pet, but it seemed you had been entirely wrong.

"Ah, ah," they chuckled. "Remember, it's the price you promised to pay. My kind values clean bloodlines above all else. Imagine how hard it was to find one of your kind that matched mine? Otherwise I would have never been allowed the pleasure to keep one of you, be with one of you. You are simply perfect. Interesting, "fun". Exactly what I want in a blood mate!"

"What?" you winced, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. "Why me then? Why a human? Why not one of your own kind? O-Or the others!"

"Your kind is the most interesting of them all," they explained. "I can't wait to uncover all these emotions you are feeling, one after the other. I must know all about what it's like to feel "pain" and "happiness". You have no idea how boring these other species are, no matter what I do to them. I'm not wasting my time copulating with those simpletons. I want something more from my mate. Something they can't give me, but you can."

Their explanation sounded threatening even when they smiled throughout it, their intentions becoming awfully clear, and you squirmed in their arms that only seemed to tighten the more you moved. You fell for it like a fool! you thought, scolding yourself inwardly for not being more careful. You trusted the creature even though you knew better! None of those aliens would have treated you well! None of them had good intentions!

And you might have just fallen for the worst of them all—a curious one.

"Now, now," they tutted, a hand wrapping around your neck from behind, squeezing until you gasped for air.

"It's time to hold up your end of the bargain, as will I, always."

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[heartofmortis]

✧ exile (what a ghostly scene)

. *. ⋆ Anakin / Vader x Reader

summary: you were bail organa’s ward, raised on alderaan with your younger sister. in the twilight of the clone war, you and anakin fell in love. when the war died, it dragged you and anakin to early graves with it — leaving only darth vader behind. even after years without you, he still wants you back. and there is nothing he would not do to bring you back to him. . .

tags: angst, tragic romance, suitless vader, no y/n, gn reader, inspired by the 2020 vader comics & vader immortal, past major character death, mourning, vader needs a hug, resurrection

note: my first reader/second person fic — i’m sorry if the tense is bad ajsjwjwjqjq. i’ve had this in my drafts for soooo long and i finally decided to finish it 🫶

word count: 1k

part 1 of 4

The stars have died, fizzling out into oblivion. All that remains is a charcoal heart that once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

The boy from Tatooine is unreachable now, trapped inside the twisted soul of Darth Vader. The galaxy’s beloved Hero With No Fear is gone. With the rise of the Empire, the Jedi and their sympathisers will be erased from memory. A clean slate to start a new era.

Three years after the creation of the Empire, Darth Vader stands alone. His tower on Mustafar is isolating; its strategic position is a constant reminder of that day. His injuries still hurt sometimes: phantom itches on his now metal legs; scars from his burns that did not fully heal. The medical droids say he is lucky — the fire could have done more serious damage, and he could have been forced to rely on a suit keeping him alive for the rest of his days. Instead, the ebony coloured mask and suit he wears are to conceal his identity. A precaution so that Anakin Skywalker can fade from people’s tongues and memory, leaving the tyranny of Darth Vader in its place.

The weight of his failures is not the heaviest burden. Darth Vader drowns in his anger and grief. He was not strong enough to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was not strong enough to save you.

(All things die. Even stars burn out.)

You were the stars in his sky, his light in the dark, the silvery moon to his blazing sun. So tender and kind. Perhaps your heart was too good for this world. Perhaps, it was your weakness all along. (How could peace ever love a dragon?)

Since you met, you had been Anakin’s sun. You anchored him; guided him home. You were his destiny. And, without you, the galaxy had turned cold. The fiery world outside, all hot air and lava fields, only stood as a reminder of his failure. He’d lost you. After everything Anakin had tried — surrendering himself to the dark side, betraying the light — he could not save you. Time had not quelled the pain.

Vader wonders if you would still recognise him. His copper hair has grown longer (he remembers how you used to cut it for him after he returned from another mission, and you’d giggle as you braided thin locks together), but his face hides behind an obsidian mask. You always loved the blue of Anakin’s eyes, but now they are blazing amber.

Mornings are the only time Vader allows himself to dwell on the past. It is when he finds himself alone and does not have to hide.

Vader recalls how you arrived on Mustafar like it was yesterday. (You haunt him every waking moment.) He could sense your conflicted emotions as soon as you disembarked your ship. Vader wasted no time approaching you, drawing you into his arms (where you belonged; where you were safe). His lips reconnected with yours, fitting together like puzzle pieces as he kissed you hungrily, his hands settled on your hips to keep you close.

You and Anakin had met after turning nineteen. He and Obi-Wan were called to Alderaan to protect the Queen and Viceroy from an assassination attempt. Being their ward, you had been there the whole time and quickly formed a connection with the young padawan — your relationship had blossomed during the Clone Wars.

He rested his forehead against yours as you spoke. “I heard terrible things. Tell me none of it is true.”

Vader hadn’t replied immediately and instead drew his head back to look at you. He would tell you any sweet lie if he needed to as he fought to quell the anger flaring in his eyes. “What have you been told?”

“Obi-Wan told me—”

Vader’s grasp around you tightened protectively. “Obi-Wan is alive?”

“He said you’d killed Jedi. Killed younglings.”

“You must not believe him, my love. He’s a traitor.”

It wasn’t the answer you sought, and you took a step backwards out of your husband’s grasp. “What have you done?”

“I did this for you. To save you.” He cupped your chin in his flesh hand and whispered your name. “I love you.”

Your eyes trained into his. There was no denial, no remorse in his stature; his only regret was letting Obi-Wan tell you anything.

He repeated his words. “I did this for you.”

From the shadows of your cloak, you drew a blaster. Only a small, weak thing. Vader watched your hands tremble. He did admire your courage. “Fix this,” you demanded. “Please,” you begged.

Anger flickered in Vader’s eyes. He had never seen you unimpressed with him. With an easy glide of his hand, Vader used the Force to knock the blaster out of your grip and pin your arms by your sides

“I am stronger than the Chancellor now,” he explained desperately, drawing you to his side. “I can overthrow him. Then you and I can be together; we can run away — just like you always wanted to.”

(But you didn’t. He lost you. Some might call you a traitor — Vader maintains that you were misguided.)

Three years later, regret still festers inside Vader’s hollow soul. There must have been a way to save you.

He misses you endlessly: craving your touch and the sound of your voice. (There is nothing Vader desires more than to have you back in his arms.)

Part of him wants to forget. To cast his memories of you into an abyss; to put the past behind him. But it is an impossible task. You are too well tangled into his soul. You haunt him. (And you’ll haunt him until his death.)

Today, there is no time to focus on you. A new morning brings meetings and training. You were Anakin’s Achilles Heel — but Darth Vader shows no such weakness. As Vader sits on his throne, reading over mission logs and other updates from the spread of the Empire across the galaxy, he receives a message: he must make his return to Coruscant immediately. (Your memory pulls him under the ocean again until he can no longer breathe.)

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: deserted by fate

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: arcane

rating: PG

length of fic: LONG. it’s long. but lots of flash back scenes and building of the relationship.

genre: angst / romance / fluff at the end

pairing: jayce x reader x viktor

summary: fate never favored a trio. fates favorite was always a duo. and she knew who fate would favor. she hated being right.

note: not beta read. proof read so many times the words blurred together and i deleted an entire section that i couldn’t get back and had to rewrite. over all though, it should be good!

tag list: @night-fall-moon

there was once three. a trio. two partners and their assistant.

three friends.

three…

three……

three………

but one was always forgotten.

—————————

the silence as war died down left an eerie rattling inside the ears of those who had survived. as they looked around to see the wreckage, some who were still marked with the iridescent galaxy that the Machine Herald had left on them, others, not a physical reminder in sight on their bodies. they didn’t need one though, as piltover sat in ruins. the blood of those who died stained the marble steps. colorful dye still stained the air from jinx and the firelights entrance. but she, the third, the spare, the left behind, stood in the middle of it, unsure whether to cry, scream or run to the scene in front of her.

where the machine herald- no- where viktor and jayce were immortalized in a blinding brilliant metal, jayce knelt with his hammer in his grasp and viktor’s hand perched along jayce’s forehead.

the tears, she realized, fell on their own. leaked out of her eyes and fell past her face but she felt none of that. numb completely as she stared at the hollow husks of the two men in front of her.

her mind repeating…

three…

three……

three………

there was to be three of them.

three creators and inventors of hextech. three researchers. three friends…

they told her that…

three… lovers…

there were three… supposed to be three…

she supposed though that destiny had always lended its hand to favor the duo over the trio.

—————————

“you know…” jayce trailed off as he sat next to viktor and pulled her legs over his lap. “many times in books, the trio never makes it. fate always favors a duo.” he said it with that joking grin, tempting fate. daring it to try to make good on its word. viktor had the decency to look at jayce disbelieving.

“why would you say that? tempt anything that would ever want to pull us apart?” he questioned, looking between jayce and her. jayce shrugged, looking sheepish.

“because they never could. we’re tied together. you guys go, i go.” he shrugged again. she looked at both of them and then down at the ground.

“fate would favor you both.” she whispered. their eyes widened.

“never say that miláček.” viktor ground out turning to her, side eying jayce as a ‘look what you’ve done’.

“yeah, i wasn’t serious, darling.” jayce said, bring her closer to him and viktor. “we’re in this together and we’ll always be.”

—————————

“we’re in this together…”

“we’ll always be…”

together…

together……

together………

—————————

she should have known that was a warning flag. the conversation they had. and they weren’t together. not now. she was right. fate had favored them, in some twisted sense of humor, divine intervention or not, fate had carved out a spot where both jayce and viktor could be together leaving her behind.

she was the one to pick up the pieces… she always had been, why would this be any different?

—————————

“viktor, please! it’s dangerous! you can’t be serious!” she yelled, her anxious anger causing her voice to bellow. his eyes sliced her down as he looked her way, the glare he had for her held nothing but contempt as she tried to stop him.

“while you may have your life ahead of you, i am on borrowed time miláček.” he rose his chin looking down at her as she had put her self between him and the hexcore. “now move out of my way. i will only ask once.”

the tears were hot as they streamed down her face and shook her head. his eyes widening at her disobedience. he took a step forward but before anything could happen, jayce walked in.

“what is happening?” he asked, setting his supplies down and slowly walking over to both of them. before viktor could open his mouth she was quick to explain.

“he was trying to add more of his blood to the hexcore. he’s already done it a few times and i refuse to let him do it again. why can’t you see it’s changing you viktor? you’re not the same. please!” she begged him, no longer looking at jayce but pleading with viktor to see reason.

eyes widening, jayce moved to step in front of her. “viktor, you can’t do that. we don’t know how it will react.”

“we’ll never know if we don’t try.” viktor ground out.

“not on you.” jayce said softly. “you’re too precious for us to loose.” this stopped viktor as it was almost like flicking on a light behind his eyes. he blinked and looked at jayce and then her.

“i-i am so sorry. oh… miláček… i am so so sorry…” he started to come forward, and stopped when she took a step back reactively. his eyes widened.

“darling, please. i’m sorry.” he begged, and she could never refuse him. neither her nor jayce could…

that had been the third time that viktor had tried to add more of his biology with the hexcore.

—————————

three…

three……

three………

three times… three people…

—————————

her feet felt cemented on the marble, watching the sun play off the statues of her lovers, standing in the blood of who knew how many. her first step felt like she was chained by stones under water, attempting to walk. her second was easier, but felt like getting your foot out of quicksand. the third felt easiest and carried the most momentum as she stumbled to them, running, her body finally falling, kneeling between them and resting on jayce’s back. three shallow breaths was all she was allowed before her sobs came in full force as she clutched the hand viktor had by his side and her arm wrapped around jayce’s neck,sobbing into what would be his left shoulder.

“you-you-you

you promised…

you promised……

you promised……… me.”

her cries bellowed out around the square below, drawing disgusted glances and pitying onlookers as they saw the hextech geniuses assistant, the third partner, the sole survivor… cry out in anguish. despair. heartbreak.

“i always told you fate favored you.” she whispered, sitting there with them until their figures were carted away. with instructions from her for them to be put in the lab that they worked in, which was somehow still standing.

—————————

being in the very same lab that both… viktor and jayce had spent so much time in, herself included, felt sickening. the lack of their presence ate at her, leaving her hollow and mauled in the tide of grief. everything was as it was. nothing had moved. it was as if it was a museum. a museum of them. their chairs at the farthest point of the room. jayce’s rolling chair and viktor’s rolling stool he used often. for a moment, the lab seemed to be lighter, golden light filtering in as jayce and viktor were huddled around a notebook, talking about some equation. their heads both whip to her and smiles grow on their faces, and when she blinks, the lab is darker, filled with the blue light of the setting sun and they are no where to be found.

she walked to the couch across the lab, her fingers grazing the fabric, as she picked it up and wrapped it around herself. it smelled like them…

“guys, please, stop! it’s cold!” she pouted as jayce held the blanket too high for her to reach, viktor doing nothing but egging it on.

“just jump up and get it, my love! you can do it!” his laugh ringing through the lab.

she pulled the blanket tighter, it wasn’t cold in the lab but she was cold. no, it wasn’t cold. her body felt like it was missing an integral part to function, and now that it had been stripped away she couldn’t rebalance. walking over to viktor’s desk she looked over all the plans that were still in tact, his desk almost exactly how he left it. hot tears welling in her eyes again as she saw his favorite mug, the one jayce got for him, sitting off to the right, long cold and molded over with his favorite tea still inside. her fingers brushed against the handle.

viktor took a sip of his tea as she watched standing next to him.

“can i try that?” she asked.

“sure.” he waved his hand at her. she took a sip and almost spit out the drink. “why is there alcohol in that damned tea?”

he turned to her and smiled, holding up a small bottle.

“you spiked it before i drank it?” her tone incredulous.

“can’t hold your liquor.” he asked as she glared at him. he got up still chuckling and grabbed the cup from her hand. “come. i’ll show you how to make the tea and we can try this cup together.” he motioned for her to follow him and she did.

she always followed him. would have followed both of them to the ends of the earth if they had let her. her jaw clenching as she tried to hold back more tears as she picked up on of his many notebooks. seeing a not that was stuck in there. she pulled it out realizing it was a small note she had given to him. it was just a little something she would do is leave notes on their desks as both viktor and jayce would always light up reading them. she opened viktor’s journal realizing it was his personal one, not looking at the entries but seeing that he had kept every single one of her notes. even taking some of the doodles she would make on their schematics and taping them in. she clutched the book to her chest and walked over to jayce’s desk.

looking at the photo of him and his mom was overwhelming and she set the photo down so she didn’t have to see it. didn’t want to be faced with the reality that more people were mourning these two as it felt like that could sweep her under the current and she was barely treading water currently. looking through his notes as well she saw underneath a few sheets of equations, the pen she got him. she grabbed it, smiling as tears came back. she had gotten this pen for him for some holiday and he had used it so much that the first refill in the pen ran out. he had no idea there were other refills.

“noooooo…” jayce whined as the sound of manic scribbling was heard. “no. no. no no no no no. what the-“

“language.” viktor stopped him, not looking up. a heavy sigh heaved from jayce as his head hit the desk.

“what’s wrong?” her voice rang out from the couch.

“the one you got me? it’s out of ink! and i can’t use it anymore!” jayce looked up, almost pouting.

“then get another one?” viktor said, turning to look at jayce like he lost his mind.

“no! this is the special pen. it was part of the gift you gave me last week! it’s special!” he says looking at her. her mouth trying to fight the smile and consequently the laugh that was threatening to bubble up. she quietly got up, went to her desk and pulled out a white box. holding it out to jayce at his desk she nodded at the box and he took it. viktor watching the whole interaction with an amused glint in his eyes.

“what is this?” jayce asked looking between them both.

“just open it, ya big baby.” she said, chuckling. he smiled at the comment and opened it, his eyes widening. thousands of refills were in the box for the pen. “i was going to give this to you later but i didn’t think you’d run that refill out of ink in a week.” she admitted. his eyes lit up as he quickly replaced the refill to the pen, without her even needing to demonstrate. he tested it on paper and when it started writing again, jayce looked at her like she hung the moon.

“thank you.” he whispered and pulled her to him, his head resting her stomach for a moment, inhaling and then lifting up and nodding to himself, trying to give the pen refill box back.

“just keep it.” she said as she fluffed his hair and walked by viktor doing the same, earning a disgruntled noise from viktor. “i fear that you’ll need them often.” jayce nodded and put them in the drawer on the right.

“when do i get a special pen that i can use?” viktor’s voice asked as he looked at her now settled back in on the couch.

“how about i get you one for your birthday?” she asked and he nodded, seemingly happy with that answer as he turned back again and got to work. her making a mental note to get another one of those pens the next day.

as she opened that same drawer, the refill box was there, open and had five left. she chuckled and held jayce’s pen in his hand. the realization hitting her, viktor wasn’t going to be here to celebrate his next birthday. she walked to her desk and took out the box, holding the complimentary pen. jayce’s was golden, similar to viktor’s eyes and also the gold in house talis colors. viktor’s pen was a deep emerald, similar to zaun’s colors, with the metal being a deeper golden color. holding their notebooks and pens in her hands felt haunting. neither would be here for their birthday’s… her birthday… the pain rose in the chest as she collapsed near her desk. her body shaking as she moved over to jayce and viktor’s side. near their desks. trying to be close to them. but how can you be close with a ghost?

———————

many whispers, glares and disgusted looks were weathered as she joined the crowd of those gathering to place names of loved ones written on parchment in the basket to be burned. she pulled her hood up further hoping to blend in as the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her was uncomfortable and magnified the hurt even more.

“i can’t believe you’re here.” a man said looking at her. she looked up at him, her eyes glazed over, darkness under her eyes from not sleeping.

“your fucking partners killed my wife… my son.” he yelled as he started towards her. enforcers restrained him.

one walks over to her, “do you know this man?” he asks her. she shakes her head. he gives her a second glance. “take the stairs up there, people are gathering there, smaller crowd.” he says before he leaves. the tears in her eyes threaten to fall as she looks up to the sky, silently thanking her partners, taking it as them intervening.

walking up the stairs feels similar to the day of the fighting. when she saw them. each step feels heavy. each step is a battle itself.

finally reaching the baskets she takes her slips of paper, jayce and viktors name written on three different slips of paper and places them together in three separate baskets. just in case someone saw them and decided to not let them be burned. a fourth stayed with her, in her pocket. she turns to leave and is stopped as ximena, jayce’s mother stands behind her. their eyes widen and ximena looks her over. the cloak she wears is black, with gold clasps. but that isn’t what draws jayce’s mother’s attention. it’s the pin on the cloak, a hammer, the talis house crest. jayce’s talis house crest.

“ximena, i-“ before anything else is said, she brings her into a hug, the feeling of loss settling in her chest like a weight at the acknowledgment of her presence from jayce’s mom.

“you have been so brave.” she whispers. at that her eyes fill with tears as she sobs into ximena’s shoulder. she smells like jayce did and it makes her sob harder.

“i miss him so much. so much. i miss them both, ximena.” she cries as ximena’s hands draw her head up and she looks at her, nodding.

“i know. i know you do. i do too.” she shows her paper she brought for the ceremony.

written in ximena’s handwriting is jayce and viktor’s name. the way she’s written them it reads viktor and jayce talis. which somehow makes her cry more at ximena’s paper, at the thought of marriage and a future that could no longer be a reality. until she sees her own name at the top. the note reads her name, viktor and jayce talis. looking up at ximena questioningly, ximena smiles knowingly.

“a part of you died that day too. i mourn that as well, my dear.” she nods, tears slipping from her eyes. the same eyes that used to look at her with love. jayce’s eyes. they always joked he had his momma’s eyes because he was a momma’s boy. now, it just hurt to see. to remember. she looked down at the ground. “and he was going to marry you both, i know he was.” ximena smiles sadly, as tears leak from her eyes, informing her thinking it a kindness. it only tears deeper at the hole they left in her. but that’s not ximena’s fault.

“i’m going up to the roof to watch everything.” announcing her leave.

“just be careful, mija.” ximena murmurs as she nods again and leaves.

—————————

watching the papers fly through the air like stars ascending to the sky was cathartic for some she imagined. that’s what jayce and viktor were, two stars, burning so bright and brilliant that she had no choice but to be attracted to their light. or maybe they were the sun and the moon, so opposite but complimentary and she was just one of the many stars in the sky that admired them. they being so magnetic that they brought her into their orbit, destroying her as they exploded, for celestial bodies that burn so bright only have so much time until they do explode and take everything with them.

a lighter in hand, she takes out the piece of paper she held onto, looking at how both her and ximena both put jayce and viktor talis. she grabs a pen from her pocket, her own pen, which became a force of habit to keep on her working with inventors and hesitated before writing her own name down and burning the slip. watching it rise with the rest. ximena was right. a part of her died that day too.

—————————

the issue when an inventor goes off on a ‘genocidal killing spree of the majority of humanity’ is it is very difficult to ensure that who they were before is not erased from memory. exactly what the piltover council moved to do, as its first order of business, once the halls were cleaned, the marble treated of the blood stains, the pillars resurrected and the dead buried. exactly why she walked to the council chambers with purpose and the speed of if hell hounds were on her ankles.

the erasure would happen over her dead body. she opened the door and was unnoticed as heard the council speaking.

“the council moves to strike viktor, hextech inventor and former academy’s dean’s assistant from any involvement with hextech. all credit will be solely to jayce talis of house talis. those in favor?” a voice floated through. she knew not who it was as she never paid much attention to the council. that was jayce and his doing. wanting to create a spectacle and make connections. one of the many things he was good at, even though deep down he hated it.

“i object.” her voice echoed as she walked into the room. the council turned towards her, many widening their eyes as they realized who she was. the room was empty except for the council members. intruding on a private meeting was something new.

“this is a closed council meeting. you should not be here.” the one at the head of the table threw out. her eye twitched, at his tone and his dismissal of her.

“and you should not be discussing mine and my partners project without me present councilor.” she said as she stepped up to where jayce’s seat was at the table and stood off the left. “there are members of the founding team for hextech still alive.”

“you were their assistant. you contributed nothing to the project.”

nothing…

nothing……

nothing……….

—————————

“you can’t let them get under your skin baby.” jayce murmured as she glared up at him.

“no, you never mention me and you hardly mention viktor when talking about hextech anymore. we have contributed as much as you have. how dare you try and erase us. what happened to partners?” she asked, thinly concealed venom in her voice.

“you know that’s not true. there are just times where-“ jayce didn’t finish his sentence.

“where councilor medarda has encouraged you to not say anything about us because viktor is from zaun and i am a poor piltoverian? i heard her talking to you three weeks ago jayce.” he had the decency to look ashamed.

“if you’re not going to include me, at the very least, ensure viktor is up there with your name. or will that ruin the “man of progress” image you’ve so carefully crafted?” snarling his title at him, she walked off, not letting him say anything else. she entered into the lab, sitting down and thankfully viktor was too absorbed in his notes to talk to her or observe she was upset. stewing was interrupted from a knock on the door hours later. expecting it to be jayce she opened the door not looking at who was there but when two finely dressed men came in and sat two very expensive looking boxes down and handed both her and viktor an envelope, then left, had you feeling dumbfounded.

“what is this?” viktor asked, his accent heavy with the lack of speaking for the past 4 hours.

“i don’t know.” was whispered from her as she walked toward the box and opened it. inside was the most gorgeous blue dress, looking as though it was made of the starry night sky itself. viktor, who had followed you gasped at seeing it. looking at her then the dress.

“that will be very beautiful on you. but where are you going?” he asked.

“where are we going?” she corrected pointing to his box, as his eyes widened. each of them slowly approaching his box like it would explode. he opened it, finding a suit and tie, matching her dress completely.

“what is going on?” viktor murmured as she looked down at the envelope in hand. she opened it, eyes scanning over the document.

“viktor, i think we’ve been invited to the inventors inaugural ball tonight.” her eyes not leaving the page.

“what?” his tone shocked and in disbelief until he saw his invitation as well. “jayce was to go to this tonight, why would we be invited?”

she shrugged, and flipped over the envelope. holding it up to viktor so he can see what was written on the back.

“NO CHOICE!” was written in all capitals and underlined three times, on both invitations. both knowing this must be important.

“we have an hour to get ready vik.” she looked at him and he sighed, resigned to his fate, knowing that there would not be a request of him if not absolutely important.

“best hop to it? don’t you always say?” pointing to the back where the washroom was. she smiled at his attempted imitation of her as they both started to get ready for the night.

——————///

a car picks both up, and thankfully both her and viktor are ready just in time for it do so. she fixes viktors tie in the car, admiring how the gold and blue in his suit compliments his eyes so well.

“you look so handsome.” whispered between the stillness that had settled into the back of the car. his hand reached up, cupping her cheek, his thumb trailing her lower lip.

“if i am handsome, then you are ethereal, miláček.” her responding smile was enough to convince him to kiss her. stopping outside the event plaza, both viktor and her exit the car, her helping viktor out, merely holding out a hand to ensure he was steady, which he reluctantly takes after side eyeing her. he never liked help, but she wasn’t taking the chance that he fall since the car parked so close to the sidewalk. then taking his left arm as you both slowly ascended inside. showing the invitations and then entering to the main ballroom, both looked around.

“i thought jayce would be here.” viktor said as he took two flutes of champagne off a tray passing by. handing one to her as she sipped it, humming.

“so did i…” her eyes squinting as she looked around, waiting for what felt like the other shoe to drop. it didn’t take long as mel medarda took the stage, introducing jayce. viktor looked and politely clapped, confusion evident on his face to his partner standing next to him. silence coming from her as she glared daggers straight at jayce. connecting the dots that this was an apology event. rolling her eyes, she downed the champagne and grabbed another one as they walked by. viktor glanced at her.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, as she sighed sipping her new flute.

“i’ll tell you later. we need to listen to the man of progress speak. i’m sure it’s important.” her smart ass getting the best of her as viktor side eyed her and then directed his eyes toward jayce.

jayce scanned the crowd, somewhat relaxing when he saw both his partners there.

“tonight, is a night of celebration, innovation and looking forward to progress!” he exclaimed, people cheering at that.

“we have been able to pave the way for faster travel, ease of trading leading to increased commerce opportunities for businesses in piltover all with the first hextech invention, the hexgates.” more cheers accompanied this as well as clapping. gripping onto viktors arm, she sighed.

“i have been honored to be referred to as the man of progress, but i do feel that it is not accurate.” there were now murmurs in the crowd at jayce’s words.

“as you see, there is not just one man of progress, there are two men of progress and one woman of progress.” gasps across the crowd flow. viktor looks at her and she up at him, confusion swimming in both your eyes.

“none of this would be possible with out my partners in hextech.” his hand reaching out as he read off both her and viktors names. claps and cheers coming from the crowd, slightly reserved as it was known in the inner circles who you both were. where you both came from. “we look forward to working harder than ever to bring you our next great invention, hextech travel. revolutionizing the way we can travel to different places, not just in piltover but in all of runeterra!” cheers erupt again. jayce waves and smiles as he gets off the stage and shakes a few hands, heading towards both his partners. both her and viktor look at him as he approaches you both, a bit sheepishly.

“mind if we talk outside?” jayce asks before either of them can speak, both she and viktor nodding and following him out.

“you were right.” his words directed at her.

“i mean, she normally is, but what is going on jayce?” viktor asks, as jayce sighs.

“we talked earlier today and i realized that i had been selfish. it is not just me working in hextech, it is both of you as well. you both should be credited with these inventions just as much as i am.” viktor frowned.

“i do not want to be in the spotlight.”

“you don’t have to be. i’ll keep making the speeches, talking to people, making deals from time to time. but from now on, people will know there are three founders of hextech.” jayce looked at both of his partners and she smiled up at him.

“you’ve not been selfish. i don’t think that’s the word. maybe, egotistical, inflated, big headed…” she trailed off a teasing smile on her face as viktor chuckled.

“thank you, jayce. i assume that you were the ones who got us these fancy outfits too?” viktor asked, after handing his cane to her to hold while fixing the lapel on jayce’s coat.

“had to make sure my partners matched with me.” jayce said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

the smile on her face threatened to split it. not happy for her own cause but ensuring viktor would forever be memorialized in connection with hextech.

“thank you, jayce.” she said, reaching up and kissing his cheek.

“thank you. i don’t know what i would do without you. without either of you.” jayce says looking at viktor as well.

—————————

“as jayce talis had stated, hextech was founded by three people, myself, jayce and viktor. erasing anyone from these works does a great disservice to their memory, legacy and the accuracy of our history.” she explained.

“‘a great disservice to their memory?’” one council member asks, disbelieving. “viktor, became a crazed man, creating himself into the machine herald and almost killed us all. people are scared. there must be something done!” this was met with a murmur of agreement.

“he almost killed us all!” another exclaims, upset and angry.

“you misunderstand me. i’m not asking for his flags to be flown around or even have a banner created of him for hextech. what i am saying is that on the schematics, the trademarks, the history of how the hexgates opened piltover, changed the trajectory of our city for good and created many new forms of technology infusing magic and science, that his name is not stricken from that. that his name is mentioned. he is explained. and at the end of the day our history explains why a child who had been part of chemical warfare between zaun and piltover, who came to piltover attempting to have a better life, eventually fell victim to the very disease he had contracted due to the chemicals piltover put in the air in zaun, but still tried to save others from his same fate.” the councils eyes widened. i turn to my left, seeing sevika present as the new council member for the undercity, recognizing her from a few run ins in the past when traveling down to the undercity for parts.

“this disease plagued zaun for years, is that not right?” you asked her.

“the gray? yeah. made people sick, making them dependent on shimmer, causing an endless loop of addiction. not to mention the limbs you can loose from it all too.” her gruff voice rang through the chamber.

council members looked at others across the table, next to them…

“i vote in favor of keeping all three names for the hextech founders accurate, for history, tradmarks and any correspondence. any marketing will just be focused on hextech itself. all those in favor?” sevika spoke, looking at her i slightly nod my head in thanks, my shoulders tight as i see across the table, one by one the council votes yes to the proposed idea, except three. majority rule though.

“you got what you want…. happy now?” a gruff voice of a new council member asked above all the chatter.

“very much so.” she said, ensuring everything was taken care i are of, before leaving.

—————————

the metal statues… if you could even call them that, are set up in a garden near the lab. making sure it had lilies, roses and poppy’s in there. three flowers and so much fauna, for the founders of hextech. at the center was jayce and viktor. she sat in the garden for hours on end, working on different things, talking to them or even just sleeping. finding that if she was sleeping and touching at least one of them, the nightmares weren’t so unbearable. she still wore the sleep deprived eye bags around like they were the new latest fashion.

after readjusting the plans for hextech, placing in safeguards and ensuring that the plans could be executed, she began to build a larger team. a team of great academy scientists, in engineering, biology, medicine…

with a collaborative foundation, the scientists with her at the helm drove forth 15 years of unprecedented and revolutionary progress. creating safe water ways for zaun and air with no pollution. creating hextech travel for all of runeterra. medical devices to help those needing mobility aides, in addition to cures to diseases that were listed as incurable.

she visited the garden the day they had found the cure to the disease the gray had created in the zaunite residents of the undercity.

“i’ve been working on hextech so much i’ve forgotten to visit. i’m sorry.” she whispers, setting down sunflowers for both men. “reminds me of you both.” her laugh is humorless and flat sounding.

“but i have some news. our team was able to do it. we found a cure for your disease viktor. those who are still afflicted with it will be able to be treated for it. they won’t have to suffer anymore.” she smiled and then looked up at viktors face, the machine heralds face. her hand reached up, caressing his cheek. “i’m just so sorry i couldn’t find it while you were alive. i wish i had. how our lives could have been different…”

“it’s so sad, because it’s been so long, vik.” she looked from his face and then back up to what his face was when he died. “it’s so hard to remember what you looked like. this wasn’t who you were. and you hated photos. thank god jayce sketched you. but it’s still not enough. and i fight so hard to make sure you are remembered.”

sitting down at his feet next to jayce, she sighed. “that both of you are.” she slumped over, looking at the ground. “i went to a wedding the other day. one of our scientists got married to their partners. one’s an architect, the other owns the bakery down the street. they remind me so much of us. it was so hard to be there, if i’m honest, because my mind wouldn’t quiet the ‘what ifs’.” the tears felt foreign to her as they slipped silently down her cheeks. she hadn’t cried since that day. the very day she-

“we would have worn house talis colors don’t worry. viktor would have looked dashing in them. gold always complimented your eyes so well vik. and the colors always seemed to just fit you jayce.” her hands fiddled with her own garment… crafted with house talis colors and zaunite colors, representing the partners who still laid claim to her life. she sighed again.

“i got back from the doctor the other day. my test results came back. i have three months to wrap everything up before the reaper catches up to me. ironic that it’s three months. the irony is not lost on me.” she chuckled humorously.

“i’ll be appointing leads for the research, people who can develop hextech since i’ll be six feet under. i think they can handle it though. they’ve made incredible strides.” she looked over at jayce, then up at viktor.

“i hope you’re both not so lost that i can’t find you or see you in the after life. i curse you both to be tied to me forever.” she jokingly laughed and got up, dusting off her pants.

“bye for now, my loves.”

—————————

fate was listening. it always is listening. will always listen.

—————————

“please… just take me to the garden.” she begged. looking up at the scientist who led the medical team and became a friend to her as she battled her illness. the hesitancy written on their face.

“damn it, i am dying. there’s no way around it. but at least let me be with them.” she whispers, their medical scientist’s eyes shine with understanding as they pick up her frail body and rush her to the garden. once there, they set her down gently at viktor’s feet.

“hi.” she whispers as her lungs seize. blood coating her hand as she just wipes it on her pant. the medical scientist tries to hand her water but she waves it away. “i think it’s time.” she holds viktors hand, a little cold but the same fingers she remembered nonetheless, and wrap her arm around jayce’s neck. “i hope i’ve made you proud. “ breathing heavy and labored. “i can’t wait to see you again.” her body relaxes more into her position, as she slumps over a bit, taking her final breath. her limbs turn to jello with her muscles relaxed and some how her arm stays around jayce and her hand in viktors, some how not falling, like they were holding her up.

____________. epilogue

the bright white of the fluorescent lights blinded her as she opened the shop up for the holidays. the darkness of 5 AM still cast the street in an eerie glow and made the shop light up like a honing beacon. she quickly turned on her holiday decorations and fairy lights. she blinked a few times and opened the front door so customers could start pouring in. filling the bakery case, then making herself a coffee she had already served 5 people. the day was a busy one, with so many customers blurring together and now thankfully almost ending.

“that’ll be $11.82.” she stated as her barista began making the order. closing the till she began helping the next customers, “welcome to hex and brew, what could we tempt you into?” she spews the greeting like she does every day. hearing two men talking doesn’t throw her off but it’s the accent of the one man. czech almost, soft but confident.

“you always get that damned gingerbread drink. why can’t you get something like crème brûlée?”

“well, because i like cinnamon and the sweet.” a sigh is heaved.

“we’ll get one gingerbread latte monstrosity and a black drip coffee. both large.” the voice now directed at her as she nodded.

“name for the order?” she asked, her throat dry for some reason and her body anxious, still writing the description of the drinks on the cups, not having looked up yet. writing off the feelings as her anxiety peaking during a rush.

“jayce is fine.” the other man responds and her hand freezes mid word, right in the middle of the words “black drip” on the second cup and finally looks up at them. her eyes meeting with the tallest-jayce- first. she shouldn’t have known who was who. she did though, as confusion, then shock and wonder settle. turning she looks at his partner.

his partner…

his partner……

her partner………

partners…

golden eyes meeting hers as the same emotions span across them as they did jayce’s. tears welling as his hands reached for hers, almost dropping everything he was holding. his hands were soft and warm, so unlike before. unlike the statue in her garden seemingly a lifetime ago. jayce’s hand reached up to cup her cheek. another lifetime of memories and love fill each of your thoughts.

“is it really you?” jayce asked

“miláček?” viktor questioned.

she breaks their connection, as their eyes widen and she quickly walks around the counter to them. “i couldn’t bare for anything else to separate us any longer.” she explained with a sad smile and a shrug, grabbing both their hands and pulling them into the back of the cafe where she had a cozy lounge break room for her and her team. “man the register?” she asked her friend behind the counter who nodded confused and started taking the next orders. once inside the break room, she shut the door, standing near it and not crossing over to the men on the other side. she closed her eyes as their presence agitated and reopened the gnarled wound that was in her chest from their absence. she always wondered why she felt this longing for someone, for people who were just like them. why none of the dates she went on never worked out. she had been waiting for them. the tears fell, ugly and fast. “of course it’s me…” her inhale is shuddering. “is it really you?” she asks, finally looking up at them, her eyes widening as both viktor and jayce’s faces are wet with tears. jayce makes the first move to her, he always made the first move, wrapping her in his abnormally large body. his warmth enveloping her, with the slight spiced scent that was just him. she cried harder.

“it’s me. it’s us. i promise.” jayce whispered. viktor came over, slithering his arm between jayce’s middle and hers. his other arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her against him too. clean musk fills the air as she turns a bit and takes her right arm wrapping it around viktors still small body.

“it’s us. it’s me. i-i am so sorry.” viktor whispers. she had never seen him cry before, but one time, in what felt like a lifetime ago talking about rio.

“viktor…” she trails off as his head is buried in her neck and they stay there, time holding no meaning to any of them. there would be a lot to talk about later, but for now, right now, they found each other again. that was enough.

this time, fate didn’t forget. this time, fate was forgiving. this time… fate favored the trio.

[imaginedreamwrite]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT2mLP1kL/

Omega and König

"I need a stool." He stops and turns to look at you over his shoulder, his eyebrows knit together. You're standing behind him with your hands on your hips and your eyebrows furrowing in thought. Your eyes are narrowed slightly as you look him over, gauging and judging his size in comparison to your own, deep in thought.

"Why?" He asks so innocently and curiously, now turning to lean back against the counter's edge. The heels of his hand rest against the rounded edge, and one ankle is crossed over the other as he stands just feet away from you.

"I'm short." You give the most basic and ordinary answer, shrugging in a way that makes it seem so casual. "I need a step stool to be able to look you in the eyes."

Ah, now he understands. Now he knows why his pregnant omega wants to risk death by standing on a step stool while pregnant.

"Nein." Konig immediately turns the idea down with a shake of his head, as if the idea is absolutely preposterous. "No stools."

"I really don't think-" he shifts as you talk, stretching his legs out in front of him as he lowers his stature, bringing his eyeline so much closer to your own. "-really..?"

When you laugh and roll your eyes at him, he feels a natural urgency to scoop you up and take you to the bedorom. You are so beautiful, so charming and ethereal and you don't even try.

He truly doesn't know how some cold hearted and brutish alpha bastard like him could ever had gotten an omega like you. He was a monster on the battlefield, he was an arrogant and cocky brute, but here within these walls...

He was nothing but a fool in love.

"You're ridiculous." You laugh again and step over his legs to straddle him, and electricity pulses from your hands when you touch him. And when you lean in to kiss him? He swears the entire galaxy stopped in it's place the moment your lips meet.

"No stools." He mumbles against your lips, moving one hand to rest upon your back. "Let me handle it."

[thethronezone]

Primarchs and baby's first steps

Mortarion didn't think he was a good father. He didn't even think he was an 'alright' father. But there had to be something he did right, considering the fact he was currently witnessing his child taking their first steps. There was a look of intense focus on their face, one Mortarion hadn't thought a toddler capable of. He briefly wondered if he made the same expression himself sometimes. Mortarion did not dare make a sound or any sudden movements, scared that it would somehow ruin the movement. But as his child toddles closer, he found himself murmuring encouragements. "That's it, you're doing it... One step at a time, just like that..." Just as they are about to reach him, they stumble, but Mortarion catches them before the hit the floor and swoops them up in his arms, bringing them close. "You did it!" He can't help the smile that splits his face and the audible love in his voice and for once, he doesn't mind. Right now, Mortarion needs his child to know how proud he is of them.

Fulgrim walked with his child's hands in his own, helping them keep the balance as they got a hang on walking. And really, they were doing fantastic! "That's it, my dear!" he praised. "You're doing amazing!" The toddler smiled absentmindedly at the praise but there was a look of focus on their face that had their brow furrow and their cheeks puff up. Fulgrim found the expression absolutely adorable and had his hands not been occupied with holding theirs, he would have pinched their cheeks. His little one really was the most perfect child in the galaxy, there was so doubt in his mind. This conviction only grew when he carefully let go of their hands and watched them walk a couple of steps on their own. They turned around and squealed with glee when they saw him, clapping their hands and toddling back towards him. "Absolutely brilliant!"

Whenever Angron visited his child, he only ever sat on the far end of the nursery, stewing in his own misery. Today, the kid had been placed on the floor, surrounded by a few toys to entertain them. Usually, that was enough. But not today. Today, they wanted something different. First, they made a noise. "Bah!" Angron briefly looked up from where he was polishing his mace before looking back down again. "Ba-bah!" they exclaimed once more. This time, Angron merely grunted in response. Well that wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. Using their arms to push themself up from the floor, they stood up. Stared at their distracted father. Frowned. And took a step. Then another. And another. It was only by the time they were halfway across the room that Angron looked up and saw them. Walking. "You-!" he exclaimed before slowly placing his mace on the table and stared with wide eyes as his child made their way towards him. It was only when they'd successfully made their way over and clung to his leg that his mouth twitched before breaking out into a full, slightly savage, smile. For the third time ever, Angron picked up his child and held them high above his head. "A fighter!" he exclaimed with glee and for a moment, he managed to forget about the pain he lived in.

Magnus should have expected this. Their first words had been in the context of wanting a specific book. It made sense that their first steps would happen in a similar circumstance. Now, Magnus enjoyed reading to his child. He liked the way their eyes followed his finger as he used it to underline the word he was sounding out, the way they would light up when they recognized a story they particularly enjoyed. And they did have their favorites. This became undeniable when, one day, Magnus asked them which book they would like to read now. He had expected them to point, expected them to maybe say the title of one of the books. What he hadn't expected was for them to slide out of his lap and, faster than he could comprehend, toddle their way over to the bookshelf and pick out a book he had read for them many times before. "This one!" they had exclaimed eagerly, looking back at him with expectation in their eyes. Magnus had to cover his mouth with one of his hands to stifle the laugh that he felt bubbling up. Instead, he nodded, picked up the book and his child in one swoop and began telling the familiar story, his chest warm with pride the entire time.

Perturabo was a busy man. There were war campaigns to plan, siege engines to design, troops to train and now, on top of that, a child to raise. He was on a strict schedule. So, when he decided it was time for his child to learn how to walk, there was no changing his mind. First, he would help them. A steady hand on their back to keep their balance and another on their shoulder, to steer them forward. At first them would trip and stumble but Perturabo always made sure they quickly got up again, even if they cried and whined. Once he was certain that they could keep their balance on their own, he stepped back. "Get over here." His child looked uncertain, so he snapped his fingers, getting back their attention. "Now." The first couple of tries were pathetic. Stumbling, fumbling. Too top heavy, too wobbly. "Again" Perturabo would say when they fell. "Again", when they faltered. Some might have called it cruel, that they were just a child, an infant. An Perturabo might have agreed with them, had this been a normal child. But this was HIS child and he knew that the world would not be kind to them, that if they wanted to have a chance at success, at LIFE, then they had to be tough. Preparing them for this was the kindest thing he could do for them. And when his child finally managed to walk without falling, Perturabo knew he had made the right choice.

After the baby's first word, Alpharius and Omegon had started speculating when they would start walking. It was only a matter of time, said Omegon. Any day now, said Alpharius. What they hadn't expected was to one day enter the nursery, only to find the crib empty. Well, almost empty. Standing in the doorway, they witnessed their child climb out of the crib, stand on the floor and take a couple of steps as they turned around. They appeared shocked when they saw Alpharius and Omegon standing there, watching them. For a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, carefully, the toddler sat down on the floor and, with the most innocent look they could muster, asked "Up?" with grabby hands. Alpharius and Omegon came to the startling realization that, not only might their baby have been able to walk for a while now, but also that they were already a manipulative little thing. Oh, they were both so proud of their little one.

After the baby had been born, it was seldom that one saw Lorgar without them in his arms. He loved cradling them, rocking them, holding them close wherever he went. It was frankly a miracle that the child learned how to walk at all, with how rarely Lorgar put them down. But walk they did. Lorgar had just looked away for a second, a short moment, only to turn back around and see his dear child toddling towards him. Whatever he held in his arms, whatever he had been doing the moment before, he dropped at the same time that he dropped to his knees, arms wide and his eyes filled to the brim with tears as he beckoned his child closer. A few steps and they were in his arms and Lorgar held them close, burying his face against the top of their head. "Oh my little miracle, my wonder! Every day you surprise me, every day you remind me just how beautiful life is!" If his child fully understood him or not, he did not know, but he knew that they could hear just how proud he was of them and just how much he loved them.

Horus holds their hands in his as he teaches them how to walk, murmuring words of encouragement. "One foot before the other, yeah, you've got it". He keeps his voice in check, talking with a low, soothing tone so he won't distract them from the task. And when he feels like they've got this, when he feels them growing more confident, he gradually starts letting go of their hands, so slowly that they don't notice it's happening until he's completely let go. They stop, turn their head to look at him. Horus smiles back. "It's ok, you can do it." And his child already knows they can trust him so they clench their little fists and with a face of determination and focus, walks. It's wobbly, it's slow, but they're doing it all on their own. They reach the wall and once again, they turn around to look at him but this time, they are smiling widely. "Dah!" they exclaim and Horus rushes forward, circles his arms around them and spin them around. "So good! My amazing child!" A thousand battlefields, ten thousands battles, nothing can compare to the pride he feels for them in this moment.

Konrad sat in an armchair, head propped up against a closed fist, staring at his child as they played with their toys. He felt his lips slowly curl into a smile when the child raised one of the toys and made it swoop down, almost as if it were flying. His smile grew when his baby suddenly looked up and locked eyes with him. To most people, Konrad's smile was a thing of terror, something that caused nightmares, but his little one merely smiled back. His smile froze and slowly morphed into an expression of disbelief however, when suddenly, his child pushed themself up to stand on their own two feet. They had done this before, it wasn't new, but something was different. There was this focus and determination in their eyes that made him pause and lean forward in his seat. Konrad's child stared at him, smiled once more, and then took a first, slightly wobbly step. His breath caught in his throat. Slowly but surely, step after step, the child made their way over to him. Before they made it, Konrad got up from his seat and kneeled on the floor, catching them in his arms when they finally got there. His child, squealing with glee, and him, holding them tight. They will stay like that for a while, until Konrad's emotions get back in check and he knows he can look at them without feeling the need to shed tears.

Laying on his stomarch, on the nursery floor, Sanguinius smiled lovingly at his child. They were investigating one of his wings, their own flapping slightly against their back. When they reached to grab ahold of one of his primary feathers, he raised that wing to avoid their tiny, but deceptively strong, hands. But his little sweetheart was faster and more determined than he had given them credit for. They grabbed ahold of his wing and when it rose, so did they, until they were standing on their own two feet. Sanguinius paused, worried he might make them fall over if he moved his wing any higher. But eventually, his child released their hold on his feathers on their own. He sighed in relief. Then almost jumped to his feet when the toddler took a step towards him. With bated breath, he watched them take their first steps until finally, they reached him, patting his head energetically. With a laugh, Sanguinius grabbed them in his arms and turned over on his back, lifting them above himself. They squealed and cooed, wings flapping like they were about to take flight. "Look at you! So amazing! My little heart!"

Corvus stared at his child. The child stared back. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch but fought to keep his expression schooled. "And how" he began, "did you get up there?" From where they sat atop the table, covered in ink and surrounded by empty ink bottles and smudged parchments, his child batted their eyelashes innocently, as if asking 'who, me?'. When they realized that their father saw right through their act, the toddler huffed. Then, pushing themself up, they stood up on the table. This already had Corvus eyes wide. When they then took a couple of wobbling steps towards him, he felt his mouth drop open. Unimpressed by his reaction, his toddler patted their dirty hands against him, staining him with ink. Not that Corvus found himself minding that all too much. No, he was too busy wondering just when his kid had learned how to walk. How many places had they gotten into when he wasn't looking? Did he have to create new safety protocols for mischieveous toddlers now?

Everyone knew that Ferrus was quite proud of his child. He didn't say it out loud of course, but it was evident in how he spoke about them, the way his mouth would twist into an almost smile. For as young and small as they were, his child was not weak. No, they were durable, headstrong. When Ferrus gave them a puzzle or activity to do, they tried and tried until they got it right. Like now. He had constructed a small maze for them. Easy for an adult but for an infant? It provided a challenge. A challenge that his child quickly got fed up with, as they faced dead end after dead end. But instead of just giving up, of crying and whining until he picked them up, they instead did something quite unexpected. First they stood up. Which was smart. The walls oft he maze where quite low and they could easily peer over them once standing. Except they did not return to crawling. Instead, using the walls of the maze for support, they navigated the maze until they got out. Full of pride, Ferrus couldn't help himself. He scooped his child up and pressed his forehead against theirs. "Intelligent and strong!" he praised, voice uncharacteristically tender.

After the whole 'first word' debacle, Rogal had grown to expect the unexpected when it came to his child. So when they one day wanted him to put them down on the floor, Rogal didn't question it. When they pushed themself up on their two feet, he didn't question that either, though he did arch an eyebrow. And when they then proceeded to walk confidently up to a table and climb up on one of the chairs, the only thing he said was a simple "Ah." From their seat, they gestured at the chair next to theirs and, catching their drift, Rogal sat down. He stared at his child, who looked very satisfied about this whole thing. "So you walk now?" His child nodded. "Yeah." Well then, Rogal guessed that was the end of that conversation, though he could not help but wonder if all parents experienced these kinds of situations. The books he had read hadn't suggested it. Granted, his child was very special.

Now, some might say that, bringing a baby into a forge was very irresponsible and not a good idea at all. And, granted, Vulkan saw their point. But on the other hand, they were his child! He had been in the forge at their age, it seemed only fair that they got to experience it as well! They also didn't know how to walk so he could place them at a safe distance and away from anything that could harm them. Problem solved! At least, that's what he thought when he set to work on a new project, hammering away at the smoldering metal. "FIAH!" his child exclaimed and Vulkan chuckled. "Yes, little one, fire." Then, a few moments later, "Want". Huh. Now that was a new word. Curious as to what had grabbed their attention, Vulkan turned around, only to drop her work in shock as he saw his baby toddle towards the open furnace. With the speed of a Primarch and the reflexes of a father, Vulkan dove to catch his child before they could reach their destination. Immediately, he started fretting, checking them for any injuries. The child only stared up at him, brows furrowed and clearly upset. "Fiah..." they grumbled. Vulkan sighed and touched their forehead with his own. Maybe those people were right. Maybe his child should wait a bit before they got to be in the forge.

Lion had been caught off guard when his child had uttered their first word. That was not going to happen again. That's why he was staring down at his child, a small distance away from him. When his child looked up at him and smiled, he struggled to keep his face straight. "Come here", said Lion and gave his child a curt nod. The child frowned, confused, then started crawling over to him. Lion promptly shoved them back to their original spot with his foot. "Not like that. Walk." Still confused, his child tried to crawl over to him again. And again. And again. Each time, Lion pushed them back to where they started. They were starting to grow agitated, huffing and whining, slamming their tiny fists against the floor. Lion didn't flinch in the face of this tantrum. "Walk." His child glared at him, huffed, and finally stood up. A bit wobbly, but they were on their feet. They looked at him. Frowned, suspicious. And then took a step. When he didn't immediately push them back, they took another, and another, until they were slowly toddling towards him. It was only when they reached Lion, grabbing one of his legs, that he allowed himself to react. A proud smile appeared on his face as he finally scooped his child up. "There. I knew you would get it eventually."

Leman quickly found out that his kid was very food motivated. Just like their old man, hahaha! That's why he got the splendid idea to use it to train them. Ok, maybe 'train' was not the right word, they weren't an animal performing tricks. But that's how he found himself holding a juicy, tender piece of meat, right above them, urging them to stand and follow him. Some might have scoffed at this. But he who laughs last laughs best because wouldn't you know it? The kid stood up! And when Leman took a step backwards, they followed! Though they did look a bit unsure... He waggled the piece of meat enticingly. "Mmm, so tender, so juicy! Maybe I'll just eat it myself!" That apparently did it as his kid then all but rushed him, snatching the meat right out of his hands before shoving it in their mouth, gnawing on it with their tiny baby teeth. Leman laughed heartily and ruffled their hair. "There ya go! Good work, pup!"

Jaghatai's child learned to walk before they could talk and they learned to run before that. The Khan had decided that today would be the day that his child took their first steps and, placing his child on one end of the room and waiting at the other with his arms stretched out and encouraging them, he waited. He smiled when they stood up. Smiled even wider when they took a step forward. And then looked on with bewilderment as they ran straight past him towards the open door instead. Throwing his head back with laughter, Jaghatai followed his child as they ran out the door (capable of keeping up with them with just his walking speed) and watched where they decided to go. He greeted his legion as he passed them, none of them appearing surprised by the fact that the Khan's child could already run like the wind. It made his hearts clench with pride and he looked forward to seeing wherever his child decided to take them.

It takes Roboute longer than he'd like to admit for him to notice that his child is walking. To be fair, he was deep in paperwork and had a headache that was steadily getting worse. For all he knew, his child was on the floor in front of his desk, playing with their toys. If it hadn't been for an Ultramarine getting his attention, a slightly apologetic but frantic "lord Guilliman", then he might have missed it entirely. So he looked up. That's when he saw his child, on their feet and toddling over towards a nearby sofa, one usually reserved for guests or visitors. Together with the Ultramarine, Roboute watched his child leave their toys behind and, upon making it to the sofa, climb up on it, lie down, sigh heavily and take a nap. Roboute glanced at the Ultramarine and after a second, placed a finger in front of his mouth, signaling him to stay quiet. The space marine nodded and went back to standing guard. Roboute took a moment to bask in his child's achievement before going back to work, a slight smile on his face. How he wished he could join them as they napped.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n- 3.5k: boothill comes back to you for a tune up, but instead of his body, it's his heart that needs tending to after you scare the hell out of him [minor boothill story spoilers if you're not caught up on that jazz, but nothing major!]

warning(s)!: boothill is implied to have an artificial tech!eye and he takes it out (not descriptive tho!)

the last time boothill saw you, he was in for a cooling agent refill. it was also during that last visit when he saw that you had fixed up the small robot he had picked up on a distant planet and brought back as a gift. with your affinity for tinkering with things, he knew you'd like it. and he wasn't wrong.

it's been a month, maybe, and while that shouldn't be considered a very long time away considering his goal steeped in revenge would eventually require him to be gone for far longer- or even not come back at all- he damn missed you.

that, and the censor inside his eye has been on the fritz and well... if he can't see, he can't exactly shoot straight. he didn't need to be discharging bullets like a psychopath- he's a galaxy ranger, not some low-ringed IPC lacky who's a bit too trigger happy.

luckily, his eye wasn’t so fudged up that he couldn't see at all. the world around him was all blurs if he moves to quickly, but given the time to adjust, he's able to more or less make out what was in front of him. just don’t ask him to read anything... not that he was stellar in that department to begin with. it's like the crosshair infused with his artificial eye was out of focus or something.

boothill knows the path to your shop- that acts also as your home- like the back of his hand. someone could pluck his eye right out of his head, yet he'd still navigate his way to where you are. it was one of the few roads he has taken time and time again. he hope's it'll stay a place he can keep coming back to in health or otherwise.

stepping off his small, single-man ship after landing it near the junkyard you usually dig around in, he stumbles out of it onto the ground with a censored curse. he wishes he could land the thing closer to your shop, but he had once come in with too much a gusto and scorched a section of your lawn. once was all you needed to prohibit him from landing anywhere near the building again.

the walk from junkyard to the shop wasn't a treacherous one, hardly even a workout. still, the back of his neck just at his hair line breaks out into a cold sweat. it isn't brought on by exertion, but by the engraved instinct that something... wasn't right. something in his gut was telling him something was wrong.

boothill's learned to trust his gut.

his leisurely pace picks up to a more urgent gait and he can smell the 'something wrong' before his unfocused eye can try and see it.

it smells like smoke.

his steps falter at the disgustingly familiar scent- the smell that brings back memories he forces himself remember. memories that push him towards his goal of revenge- his goal in finding oswaldo. memories of his ruined home. he swallows thickly but it does nothing for his throat that's sudden too dry.

boothill hated fire. he's hated fire since his original name died with his family... with his daughter. since he chose to become "boothill" altogether he's abhorred fire.

he's familiar with fire. with its destruction. with its color. with its smell and heat and ruthlessness. its lack of mercy and greedy nature to swallow up anything in its path that can scorch.

the billows of smoke he could barely make out once his long, mechanical legs took him running to your shop could only be explained by fire. where was it? was it large? contained? were you inside? were you hurt? the cowboy didn't see any flames from outside, so it must not be that bad yet. you're fine. you're fine. you have to be.

all formality is left at his heels when he barges through your shop's doors. there's not much smoke in front of the shop when he enters.

"y/n! are you in here!" you don't respond to his shouts. "fudge!" god, boothill wishes he could properly curse right now. screw his synthesia beacon to hell.

the dim lights make it harder to navigate the area around him with the addition of his already busted vision, but just like the path leading him here- boothill is familiar with the inside of your home. he could walk it blindfolded and deaf.

boothill follows his nose. the smell of smoke got stronger the further back into the shop he goes. the ranger starts hearing commotion along with his narrowing down of where the fire was coming from.

clanging. some bangs. you're coughing. you're cursing.

boothill pushes open the metal door that leads into the main workshop with his shoulder. the room is always filled with all sorts of scrap metals, wiring, wielding tools, normal tools, and all sorts of other gadgets and knobs that he's sure you keep cluttered in different drawers and corners.

the smoke he saw outside floods the workshop, filtering out through the windows you had thrown open and up the chimney you don't ever use unless you need to melt down metal. the grey, sooty gas lingers high towards the ceiling. wafting around his head as soon as he enters the workshop, causing him to choke on it before his mechanical insides whirl into filtering it all out of his system.

sometimes being mostly robotic had it's perks. not choking to death on smog was always a plus.

"sugar!" he calls that familiar endearment over all the noise you're causing. the normally sweet, yet playful, nickname he's been calling you since he discovered your unbelievable sweet tooth feels sour coming out of his mouth this time. your coughing is muffled, and he can only assume it's because you're covering your mouth with a cloth or something. you better be, he hisses internally to himself.

"boothill?!" your shock is as muffled as your cough. "hold- gahk! son of a- hold on a second!" he can hear you rushing around the shop's concrete floor. "ore, did you get to the switch!" you direct your attention away from the unanticipated arrival of boothill. instead, you steer it towards the aforementioned, small robot you refurbished into new, mech-life. you had named it ore after the piece of unknown gem used as his power source.

small beeps of affirmation filter through the soot and smoke and you cough three more times into the cloth you're holding over your mouth and nose.

"flick it left!" you instruct ore. another set of beeps before the shop is bombarded with a force that's almost enough to knock boothill off his feet. the smoke was gathered quickly into a vacuum of air that soon collected all of it up then sequency shot it up and out the of chimney.

the room was basically clear now. all that's left after ore flips the switch back to the right to halt at vacuum assault is the mist of remnants that would soon find their way out the windows you intend to keep open for a good, long while.

you lower the rag from your mouth that had been used to keep smoke from invading your lungs and grimace at it. you had been previously using that rag to wipe oil from a machine you were working on. the very same machine that you had kicked a bit too roughly, causing some faulty wiring inside to shift and ignite. that bucket of broken bits was what led to this predicament in the first place!

finally, you look towards boothill. you hardly get a chance to acknowledge him properly since the moment you turn towards the doors he had come through; he was already at you.

crossing the room with urgent, quick strides, his metal arms clad in his cropped jacket and hanging red scarf wrap around your shoulders. one of his hands push against the back of your head and he doesn't care if the threads of your hair tangle into the groves of his fingers. his chin drips to rest his cheek against your crown.

his head dips so low, cheek and face pushing against your head so closely that the brim of his cowboy hat dents against your skull before falling off to the floor. it falls upside down with a soft thwomp and he can't seem to care.

"hey," you whisper in shock as you curl your arms upwards, bringing your hands to rest concerningly against his shoulders. his scarf was soft against your palm. your fingers thread through parts of his long, white and black hair that rest over his hunched back.

you've never seen him like this. not ever. you were certain that if he were completely human with a full body of flesh and blood, he'd be shaking like a leave. "boothill," you call, trying to get him to hear you.

he doesn't answer you. not verbally.

boothill shakes his head in two small shakes, somehow pushing his cheek further against the top of your head. he was taking deep breaths, taking in the smell of oil and rust and work that you always seem to be coated in. the arm around your shoulders holds you hostage and the one behind your head doesn't let your face pull even a single inch away from his neck where he keeps you.

his eye is still blurry and he still can't see properly. he needs to keep you against his body so his censors can make sure you're alive.

boothill can't 'feel' anything anymore from the neck down. the metal frame he calls his body is just that- metal. a shell that doesn't allow him to feel pain externally. so, he needs to anchor your body to him, so that all his internal do-dads can verify to his malfunction vision that you were okay.

you don't know how long boothill keeps you still like this. you don't keep track of the time. ore beeps confused and concerned once it finds its way back to the nearest tabletop closest to both of you. it's digital face with two oval, pixeled eyes that slice in half like a cartoon character's paint the expression clearly. there's even a small dash of pixeled sweat at the corner of it's 'face' that shows just how distressed it is.

eventually, boothill uncurls his arms from you, and you wince at the small strands of your hair that do end up snagged in his hands and knuckles. when you finally get away enough, you look up at him.

his face is down turned and anxious. there's a cold sweat on his cheek that's come from his hairline and slides past his ear (did he still have sweat glands?). he looks empty without his hat on, even though you should be good and well used to the sight. he often gives it to you to wear when he comes by- for whatever reason.

looking at him longer, you notice something off. with squinted eyes, you reach up and touch his cheek.

"hey, is your eye-" the cowboy jolts at the feel of your hand against his flesh and you wonder if he's sensitive to skin-to-skin contact since this small space is all he has left to experience the sensation. you go to pull your hand away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

boothill feels you pull away and quickly stops you. his metal palm that's still warm with the heat of your body pushes against the back of your hand as he leans his face into your warm, soft palm. his bullet earring is cool against the tip of your fingers that he isn't engulfing with his hand. the eye you're so used to looking at shuts at the sensation.

"boothill?" you try again now that you've both had time to calm down. you really have never seen him act like this way. was this really the same haughty, galaxy ranger who waltzes in every few months or so because he keeps jamming his arm gun, or running low on coolant, or just to bug you?

"the fire," he says. you look behind you at the scorched pile of metal that was the sole perpetrator for the whole kit and caboodle. "are you hurt?" the synthetic twinge to his voice is more noticeable when he speaks lowly you notice.

you shake your head before answering. "no. i'm okay."

"swear it." he doesn't ask.

"i swear i'm not hurt. i didn't even inhale all that much smoke." your thumb skates under his eye as he reopens it. you almost go to your toes to look closer at it. it looks different than usual. like something about it is... wrong? "is your eye okay?"

"what caused the fire?" he completely ignores your question in lieu of his own and if he wasn't so distraught right now, you would've let him have a piece of your mind. but you don't. you can circle back around to his eye once he feels satisfied.

"an old rig i found in the junk yard. i thought if i could fix it up, it'd make a decent heater for the winter months. but, i messed it up and it blew up in my face." you pout at the loss of a project since you weren't willing to go through another fire 101 lesson any time soon. you'd dissembled the hunk of junk and place it back in the junkyard where you found it.

"so that's what is was," he sighs. hearing your explanation, his shoulders deflate, and you swear you hear his body hiss out tension. "dadgummit," he curses. "scared me shirtless. don't do that, sugar." he was calming down. thank goodness.

"sorry about that," you chuckle humorlessly, "i wasn't expecting you, so i'm sorry you had to see that."

you don't know much about boothill's past. he's told you bits and pieces, but you've never take the initiative to actively pry into it. you can tell it hurts him to recall, so you just leave it be. you know he doesn't like fire. he hates the ipc- some guy named oswaldo you think it was? he lost his family on his home planet. that's the extent of the man before 'boothill' you know for the most part.

but you were able to put two and two together. the idea of someone dying and homes being scorched must scare him.

you pull you hand from his cheek and raise it so your fingers invade the right side of his hairline. the black curtain of bangs shift with your movement as you comb through the treases once, then twice before dropping your hand again. his bangs return to their black cloaking nature to his face's right side.

"it's all okay now. isn't that right, ore?" you look over your shoulder to your small assistant robot. its concerned expression it has been favoring shifts into jolted delight as its square head nods with a series of affirmative beeps. a bright green, pixelated thumbs-up pops up on its face before disappearing into curved eyes that blink open reassuringly.

you take both of boothill's arms gently and lead him to the small sofa that's full of mismatched patches of fabric from all the patching up and repairing it's needed over the years. you let him sink into the cushions first before following, you knee touching his.

your hands find themselves in your lap, finally disconnected from boothill and he's just about sad over it. but, he was calming down. and he didn't need to cling to you like that- honestly, he's almost embarrassed over it. acting like a scared dog like that? god, he wishes he could overheat into a full system meltdown.

"feeling better?" you ask. he takes a deep breath and can taste the lingering smoke in the air. still, he nods.

"yeah," he sighs. "yeah, i am." the sound of small metal taps rush around before coming closer. looking down, ore had taken it upon itself to jump from the worktable to the floor. grabbing the brim of boothill's fallen hat, it began the mission of dragging it all the way back to its rightful owner. ore's digital eyes curve up again when boothill and you look down at it from the sofa.

you chuckle before leaning down and offering your hand with your palm up. ore steps backwards up your fingers, dragging the hat that is five times its size and hanging onto the brim as you lift it and the hat into the air. ore offers the hat back to boothill with a smile he can see better now that the little guy is closer to eye level.

the galaxy ranger accepts his hat back, flipping it over and dusting the top of it off. he didn't need his eye to work to know it was probably covered in dust from ore dragging it across the concrete floor you most certainly haven't swept yet.

"thanks, lil buddy." ore chirps happily at the praise.

you lift your arm to let ore rest on your shoulder where it takes the small carabiner you fashioned onto a small guard you wear in the shop and clasps it to his back. you made this so the robot wouldn't constantly be falling off your shoulder since it often makes itself comfortable there.

"so," you clear your throat, "about your eye." you try and get down to business now that the situation has passed. "does it need refocused?"

"sure does." if memory serves, you have a machine for autofocusing equipment around here somewhere. you lean over the back of the sofa, snagging your laptop you keep behind it on a roll away desk that way it doesn't get harmed by all your other tools or dirty by a strong pump of oil or something.

you unclasp ore from your shoulder carabiner. "could you go and find the adjustment scanner? i think it's in the toolbox drawer, top right. if not there, try two rows over." ore chirps and slides down your arm to your lap, then down your leg to the floor.

boothill can't see but can hear the little metal steps run off across the room.

"how does it get onto your tables?" he's asking partially to fill the silence, but also because he's genuinely curious. "figured you'd be cartin' the fella around everywhere."

"i usually do," you admit. "but, i did install small pully lifts with extra wiring and metal pieces i had laying around." you open your laptop and open the screen to unlock the device. "once on one of the metal pieces, ore can pull himself up manually with the designated wire."

the man chuckles at the image of you macgyvering something like that up. "you're dang cute," he chides. he can imagine you sitting on the floor, eyes squinted and leaning in so far, your spine would scream while installing those things. you don't respond. you usually don't to his passing words of flirtatious intention. whether deliberately or obliviously, he doesn't know.

soon, ore returns and hands you the piece of tech you need. hooking the scanner into your laptop, boothill can hear it whirring as the fan of your laptop kicks on to prevent any overheated crashes.

"alright," you let ore back on your shoulder and the robot hooks itself on safely via that carabiner. "let's see what's wrong."

you stare at boothill's unfocused eye. boothill looks back at the blurry image of you. you huff after a solid fifteen seconds of still silence.

"if you expect me to pop your eye out myself, guess again cowboy."

for the first time since he got there, boothill barks in laughter. oh what a mental sight that would be! it's slightly horrifying to picture having the person he's so infatuated with pluck out his eyeball thought.

boothill turns his back, a series of hisses and deep breaths later, he turns around and with his empty eye socket closed, offers you the tech eye he was installed with when he underwent his initial cyborg transformation.

it took 20 minutes and some light jabs from you- 'how did you uncalibrate it this badly?'- before the scans show a recalibrated and refocused eye. you hand it back to him before he's reconnecting it with his socket. the wires hiss and attach into place nicely.

"now that's better!" he cheers when he blinks and is able to see clearly again. he looks at you for the first real time in a month and he's never been happier to see the soot covering your nose and cheeks. oh, you're too cute.

the hat he's kept on his lap the whole process is relocated to your head the moment he could see your face and recognize it again. it plops over your skull and you sigh as- once again, he's making you wear his oh so precious hat.

"if i ask," -you flick the brim of his hat on your head- "will you tell me why you insist i wear this thing every time you're here?"

"nope," he pops his p before lifting his arms to rest his elbows on the back of your sofa. finally getting comfortable. he stares up at your ceiling. "it's a secret."

the fire made a sooty mess up there. it'll be a bitch to clean no doubt.

the hatless cowboy chuckles to himself as he hears you huff with an eyeroll. "naturally."

a/n pt.2: okay wow. this got a bit outta control. whoops? also, i didn't want to gender Ore so hopefully reading the lil guy as 'it' isn't as confusing as i think lol

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Okay imagine dilf!Anakin getting you pregnant and despite your controversial age gap shows your bump off whenever he can. Family dinner? He’s personally coming behind you and pulling your shirt back a bit to enunciate your bump. Not allowed to go swimming without him making you wear the tiniest bikini, show off that little bump. Oh and don’t forget the overprotectiveness.

He takes off his prosthetic arm when he’s cuddling you in fear of hurting your bump no matter how big or small it is, he’s completely obsessed. And don’t get me started on how he’d act when the baby finally comes

- 🌺

Author's note: nonnie I've missed you!!! PLS THIS IS AWESOME GIVE ME MORE TILL I PASS OUT also thank you @lacebird for feeding me with this photo above, I'm salivating..

DILF!ANAKIN lives for the fact that he got you pregnant, and he makes it his personal mission to highlight that fact every chance he gets. He's just so obsessed with how your belly swells, how radiant you look every day (even tho you literally vomit, have swing moods - that man loves it all) he can't bring himself to hide it.

So when it comes to family dinners, you barely even sit down before his large hands are all over you, smoothing down your shirt like he’s straightening a pure masterpiece. “Come here, baby,” he murmurs, sliding behind you - palms possessively framing your bump. And he doesn’t stop there since it's Anakin we talk about. Those long fingers lifting the hem of your shirt just enough to expose the gentle swell of your belly before his hands just sprawls all over it, trying to feel you skin-to-skin

But it's worse if he's doing it before your or his family - you’re all mortified, cheeks burning with embarrassment he apparently doesn't feel but it’s not like you can stop him. If anything, the smug grin on his face grows even more when he notices how flustered you are. “What?” he teases but before your pretty lips can even open to scold him, he's all leaning down, pressing gentle kiss to this sweet spot on your neck, mouth by your ear - "c'mon, can't have you hiding all the time now, right? Have to show up my perfect treasure"

Swimming? Do not even think about wearing something that hides you. Anakin has you in bikinis so small you feel naked. He sits by the pool, legs spread wide, eyes locked on you through the sunglasses as if to make sure you're all safe. Hand rests on his thigh, thumb twitching like he’s stopping himself from dragging you back out of the water.

“Turn around, angel,” he calls out, tone of his voice making you blush, spreading this heat over your body. When you do, he smirks like he’s won the greatest prize ever “Beautiful,” he adds

And at night? Oh, you thought cuddling would be normal? Think again. Before you even get comfortable, Anakin’s already taking off his bionic arm. You'd roll your eyes every time, but he's all shaking his head, acting so serious

“No way,” he said “What if I accidentally press too hard? Not happening.” He settles behind you, pulling you against his chest, real hand immediately spreading over your swollen bump. Lips finding your delicate spot on your shoulder and it's where he's all murmuring to the baby, fingers stroking so softly over the curve of your tummy, drawing circles and shapes over the spots where the baby moved lately

“Gonna be the second most beautiful girl in the whole world - right after your momma..One queen, one princess - both already having daddy wrapped around their fingers"

And when the baby comes, he’s absolutely wrecked, usual cocky behavior replaced with something painfully tender. He holds them like they’re the most fragile, precious thing in the galaxy. He holds them so gently yet firmly out of fear to break it or lost it from his arms “Hey there, little one,” he whispers, brushing a finger along their tiny cheek.

Yet he never forgets you. Not for a second. After putting the baby down for a nap, he'd be all yours, pulling you into his lap like you weigh nothing. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?” he asks quietly, hand moves to your belly -- still soft and round post-pregnancy -- and he pressed a tender, loving kiss to your forehead, then to your cheeks, lips, nose, eyebrows, eyelids, jawline, neck

“You gave me everything, baby,” he murmurs. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know it.”

And because he’s Anakin, he won’t stop touching you - lips on your temple, hands cradling your waist, fingers brushing over the swell of your belly as if he’s already thinking about doing it all over again. But the most important thing is that he's there - all supportive, all understanding, giving you all the time you want to get back to your state before pregnancy (but let's be honest, his emotions towards you won't change because of your body)

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in

[justaparsec94]

Sleep

Author's Note: For @thecoffeelorian . Written for the prompt: Falling asleep in each others arms. This turned out a bit more angsty than I was originally intending but I hope you like it! I always find it a challenge to find the right amount of fluff for Cross.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,617

****************

Crosshair shot up in bed, throat constricting painfully as he tried to bring a full breath of air into his lungs. His chest heaved as he looked wildly around the darkened room, pulse racing beneath his skin. It took a moment for him to get his bearings, to realize that he wasn’t in that tiny grey cell on Tantiss anymore. He wasn’t strapped to some examination table in a lab. He was fine, he was safe. He was on Pabu. He was home. 

He groaned softly, his entire body still on high alert from his nightmare as he kicked his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before letting his head fall into his hands. The cool metal of his cybernetic hand was both a relief against his fevered skin and a horrible reminder of everything he’d been through. Crosshair remained still for a long moment as he waited for his heart rate to return to a reasonable level, for his thoughts to stop racing on the same panicked loop. He shivered slightly as the cool breeze from the open window whispered across his skin that had been dampened by a cold sweat. 

It was the same nightmare he had had hundreds of times before. But no matter how often the same visions flashed across his mind, he always woke up the same way. Panicked, angry, scared. Kamino, Tantiss, Hunter, Wrecker, Omega, Desix, Echo, Mayday, Tech. Over and over the scenes played in his sleep, each time he watched everything crumble and burn, watched everyone he cared about die by his hands. It always felt so real. 

Crosshair finally straightened once his shoulders were no longer heaving with effort to breathe and his ears were no longer ringing. He turned slowly to look over his shoulder at the bed, trying not to make any sound or shift the mattress as he did so. Everything inside of him instantly softened at the sight of you. You were still sleeping peacefully, thankfully undistributed by his own nighttime troubles. He let out a gentle sigh, grateful that you were oblivious to him at that moment, though it wouldn’t have been the first time one of his nightmares had woken you up. 

He watched you for a long moment, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. You looked so peaceful when you slept, content. Most days, he still couldn’t quite believe that you were there, with him. After everything that had happened, sleeping in your shared bed, looking like there was nowhere else in the galaxy that you would rather be. 

The room was silent except for the soft sound of the waves coming in through the open window and your even, gentle breaths. He watched your chest rise and fall for another moment, wanting to be certain he hadn’t disturbed you. He sighed again, knowing that if he tried to go back to sleep he would just spend the rest of the night tossing and turning. He didn’t need the guilt of waking you added on top of everything else. So he stood, slowly so as to not move the bed. He paused though once he’d reached his full height, turning back around to look at you once more. Before he could stop himself he stooped over the bed, hand reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair that had blown into your face from the breeze coming in through the open window. He tucked the stay piece behind your ear, taking a moment to marvel at the softness of your skin. You let out a soft sigh as he pulled his hand away, nuzzling further into your pillow. He felt as if his heart was being carved from his chest at the sight, you meant everything to him. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. He’d do everything in his power to protect you, even if that meant protecting you from himself. With another sight he straightened, slipping silently out of the room and down the stairs.  

The small house was completely still and quiet as he made his way towards the kitchen. Omega and his brothers were likely all fast asleep, as they should be, at this time of night. As always, his eyes were drawn to the pictures lining the walls as he made his way through the house. An enthusiastic Omega and Wrecker, and a skeptical but pliable Hunter had taken it upon themselves to decorate their small home. Their place had very quickly filled up with anything and everything Omega and his brothers seemed to like, the walls filled with their finds. Before, what he would have considered clutter would have bothered him, but now he found he actually liked it. Not that he would admit that to anyone though. But after spending all of their lives with nothing it was still strange but nice to have something that was completely theirs. And now that you were here it felt more like a home than ever before. 

At first, back when things between the two of you had still been strained, you had stayed in Phee’s home anytime you came to the island. But that had slowly changed over time until one day he’d found himself cleaning out a drawer in his room for you. Since the fall of The Republic you’d been working with Rex, then Echo, helping them in any way you could with the clone rebellion. You hadn’t said anything and he wasn’t about to point it out but he had noticed that your journeys off Pabu had grown fewer and farther between lately. If he had things his way you’d never leave again, you were his, and he wanted you with him always. But he also wasn’t about to come between you and doing what you felt you needed to, what was right. No matter how much he might want to keep you with him every moment of every day. 

Crosshair stalked quietly across the kitchen before he stopped in front of the sink, grabbing a glass off the counter and filling it with water. His throat felt incredibly dry, as though he’d been crying out in his sleep. He knew he likely hadn't been if you were still asleep, but he had done so in the past. No matter how much he tried to convince himself he was over everything that had happened, he couldn’t seem to shake the nightmares. 

He gazed out the open window as he sipped slowly on his water, the gentle breeze sending a slight shiver down his spine. It was a warm summer night, but the sweat on his skin left him with a chill. The island was as silent as the house, peaceful, calm, safe. Now if only he could make himself believe he wasn’t in any danger, not anymore. 

Crosshair tensed at the sudden sound of soft footsteps overhead, he'd recognize your light tread anywhere. Guilt washed through him as he listened to you make your way down the stairs, obviously, he'd woken you up after all. He didn’t even so much as turn from his spot, simply continued to watch the waves crash against the shore down below as your footsteps drew nearer. It wasn’t until you crossed the threshold of the kitchen that he spoke, but his eyes remained focused on the quiet world outside the window. 

“Go back to bed,” He hissed, his tone more hostile than he intended but he couldn’t seem to stop the shame that was suddenly crawling up his throat. There was still a part of him that hated to be seen in these moments when he felt so weak. The other part felt so guilty for pulling you into this, how could he possibly make you happy when all he seemed to do was mess things up?

Despite his words, your footsteps didn’t even falter, and before he could even think of anything else to try and say your arms wrapped around his waist, your body pressing tightly up against his back. That part of him, that angry, writhing part, wanted to push away from you. To turn and demand you leave him but he knew you wouldn’t listen even if he did. Instead, he was helpless, melting into your embrace as he felt your cheek rest in the space between his shoulder blades. 

You were quiet for a moment before speaking softly, “You should know by now that it’s not that easy to get rid of me.”

The anger that it seemed he had spent all of his life trying to control suddenly rose up in him again, inexplicably. He wanted to snap, to point out that you had left him once before but the words got stuck in his throat. He knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. He had been the one who had made it impossible for you to stay, after all. And even after everything that had happened, after everything that he’d done, you had still come back to him. You didn’t deserve his anger. 

He let out a deep sigh, hands moving away from the counter to rest over the top of yours. As always, his anger and frustration seemed to melt away as you held onto him tightly. After a long, silent moment he turned in your arms, lifting his hands to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in close so that your head rested on his chest. You squeezed his waist tighter in response, melting further into him. He closed his eyes for a moment as he rested his chin on the top of your head. 

The two of you held each other silently, the turmoil inside of him settling with each passing moment. It was moments like those, where the two of you were wrapped so tightly together it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, that he wished would never end. There was a time, not that long ago, when he would have balked at being held like this, at being so vulnerable, even with you. But now no matter how much his mind might war with him sometimes, he couldn’t get enough of you. You’d crawled into his heart, wedged yourself right up beneath his rib cage, and yet he still wanted more. You were his. 

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke again, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” He snapped before he could even stop himself. A knee-jerk reaction brought on by a lifetime of avoiding his feelings. He pulled back slightly, enough that he could look at your face but still within arms reach. Your hands moved from his waist to his arms, grasping his forearms firmly, as though you were ready to stop him should he decide to bolt. There wasn’t any judgment in your expression as you looked up at him though, just the same kindness and understanding as always. It made him sigh, guilt turning his stomach once more, for trying to shut you out when you deserved, more than anyone, to be let in. 

“It was just the same things as always,” He finally said, after another long, silent moment. He turned his head slightly, unable to fully meet your gaze after such an admission.

“Cross…” You said softly, tugging his arm gently until he felt as if he had no choice but to meet your gaze once more. You took a step closer to him as your eyes met, tipping your head back as your bodies brushed against each other. 

“There is nothing that you could tell me that would make me think of you any differently, or care for you any less,” You continued gently as you lifted a hand to rest on his chest, directly over his heart. His skin burned beneath your touch, his heart racing as your fingers bunched in the fabric of his sleep shirt, “I love you. Nothing will ever change that. But it kills me to see you suffering. I want to help you, in any way I can. But I can't do that if you don’t let me in.” 

“I’m supposed to be the one that looks after you,” he hissed, his grip on your waist tightening as shame bubbled in his throat once more. He was a soldier, his entire purpose had been to serve and protect. His entire life he’d been defective but still effective, but now with a missing hand and fragile mind what good was he? How could he possibly be enough for you? 

“It’s not a one-way hyperspace lane Cross, we help each other,” You answered gently, “If you’re not ready to share then that’s ok, but I hope you know you can tell me these things. Anytime. I’m here for you. Sharing doesn’t make you weak or defective, and neither does having feelings in the first place,” you continued as if reading his very thoughts. You’d always been able to see him better than anyone else ever could.

He sighed, taking a step closer to you without thought as if you were the sun his planet orbited around. His heart constricted painfully in his chest, the back of his neck prickled with a cold sweat, the words grated against his throat as he spoke, “It all the things I’ve ruined, the terrible things I’ve done, all of the people I’ve hurt. All those moments when I should have been there but wasn’t. It just won’t stop.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze, turning his head slightly away from you as the shame rolled in his stomach once more. He’d been built to withstand wars, it didn’t make sense to him why he was crumbling now, after everything. 

“Cross,” You said gently as your hand lifted to his face, cradling his jaw and applying just enough pressure until he couldn’t resist meeting your gaze again, “What you’re feeling is normal, it doesn’t make you weak. You’ve been through something so terrible, and yes, you made some mistakes, we all have, but you can't change the past. All we have control over is what we do next, how we move forward.” 

He turned his head away once more, the guilt and anger, at himself, at everything, bubbling in his veins like toxic black sludge, "You should just leave me,” He hissed, body tensing as his heart raced, “Go back to bed.”   

The hand that was still resting on his chest bunched further in the fabric of his shirt, drawing his attention back to you, “I’m not leaving you like this, I love you Crosshair. You’re stuck with me,” You said gently. 

He let out a loud breath of air, one he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as his eyes scanned your face. As always there was nothing but openness in your face, you meant every word you had said to him. 

When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything you continued, “I know you think you deserve to be punished for the rest of your life, but you don’t. And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”  

He bristled for a moment, on instinct, the desire to push you away, to demand you just leave him alone was almost overwhelming but only for a moment. It faded nearly as fast as it had come. He was so used to everyone leaving him alone when he told them off, but you’d always stayed. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to go. He wanted you to stay, always. 

There were so many things he wanted to say at that moment, emotions he didn’t even begin to know what to do with bubbling in his throat. What came out instead was his typical snark, “You’re a pest.”  

The brilliant smile you flashed him was worth every pain he’d ever experienced in his short life, “Yes, but I’m a lovable pest,” you replied as you pulled him back in closer to you. 

“Hmm,” he grunted softly, unable to stop the smirk that was growing on his face before he wrapped one arm around your shoulders. He lifted the other hand to your jaw, tipping your face up to his own before he closed the distance between the two of you. 

He felt you smile against his lips for a moment before you deepened the kiss, raising up on your tip toes to be closer to him. He moaned softly, his thumb stroking the soft skin of your jaw as he nipped gently at your lower lip. Much too soon for his liking, you pulled away from him, a gentle smile on your face as you looked up at him. He simply frowned, eyes narrowing at the sudden distance between the two of you. He was once again overwhelmed with the feeling of never being able to get enough of you. 

“Come back to bed, my love,” You said softly, hands trailing down his arms until your fingers interlocked with his. You gave him a gentle tug and he followed without hesitation, all of his previous worries forgotten for the moment. At that moment, there was only you. And he was powerless against you, he always had been, and truthfully he didn’t mind. He would do anything to make you happy. Even if that meant having to confront his own fears. He could do it, with you, for you. 

You were both silent as you made your way back up to your bedroom, trying to not wake anyone else. Once the bedroom door closed behind him you turned back towards him, his hand still clasped in your own. You smiled softly at him as you backed up towards the bed, pulling him along with you. You sat once your knees hit the back of the bed, looking up at him expectantly. He didn’t waste another moment, moving swiftly he wrapped his arms around you, smirking at the giggle that escaped you as he rolled the two of you over onto the bed until you were a tangle of limbs. He tightened his hold on you as you snuggled into him, your head pillowed on his chest, right over his racing heart. This time though, it was racing for a completely different reason, not one of fear. 

Neither of you said anything for a long moment, the only sound was your combined breaths and the waves of the ocean floating in through the open window. It was peaceful, and being here with you was really the only place he ever wanted to be. He just wished so desperately that his thoughts would stop tormenting him in his sleep and ruining the peace he’d found with you. 

As if sensing his sudden uptick in anxiety you spoke, head still resting on his chest while your free hand traced gentle patterns across his abdomen, “What’s one thing you can hear?”

Crosshair knew what you were doing. He recognized the tactic instantly, but usually, you used it on the nights when his dreams were so bad it woke you both up. When his system was completely in fight-or-flight mode. But even though he was relatively calm now, he still felt his heart rate slow as he focused on your words. His nightmare from earlier began to fade away into the furthest corners of his mind.   

“The ocean,” He answered quietly as he let his hand trail down the line of your body: arm, rib cage, waist, hip, thigh, knee. Back and forth, focusing entirely on the feeling of being with you. The softness of your skin was grounding, confirmation that he was here, that he was safe. 

“Something you can smell?” You continued your voice a gentle whisper that he felt rather than heard.  

“Your hair,” Clean, something warm, like sunshine, and fresh like the spray of the ocean.  

You chuckled softly, as your hand stilled on his abdomen, fisting once more in the fabric of his shirt, "Something you can feel?” 

“You.” 

His answers were usually always the same. Because when you were around you were all he could think of. Even when you weren’t physically with him he could still feel you, in his very soul, as though you’d become a part of him. In his darkest moments, you were always there. It was as if something clicked in that moment, maybe with you by his side, he could make it through. Maybe the future didn’t have to be as dark as his past. 

His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy as he listened to the sound of your breathing, as he focused on the lines of your body pressed into his own. He let his head tilt down to rest against you, his nose pressed into your hair, breathing in the familiar and calming scent of you. 

“I’ve got you Crosshair,” You said softly, “We can get through this together.”

For the first time in a long time, he felt a very small spark of hope. Maybe he could learn to let you in, to let you help him in those moments when he felt weak instead of running. As he drifted off to sleep he wrapped his arms tighter around you, unwilling to ever let you go. He felt your own arms tighten in response as your breathing began to even out. The last coherent thought he had before he drifted off to sleep was that you were right, you were in this together. 

This time the nightmares didn’t find him in his sleep. And when he woke up in the morning you were still wrapped in each other’s arms. Exactly where you had always belonged. 

[trendywaifus]

ex girlfriend! acheron ends up bumping into you during her aimless walk back to the lobby. she’s visibly surprised that she crossed paths with you in penacony of all places. despite how awkward the situation was, she didn’t bother (or perhaps didn’t realize) to hide the longing look in her eyes as you explained to her the directions to the lobby. eventually, you folded under her gaze and instead, decided to personally guide her to your hotel room to catch up. cw: fem!reader, oral sex (fem!r receiving), cunnilingus, cursing

“ mm, next time, please don’t look at me with those sad puppy eyes or else we’ll end up like this again.” you groaned, tilting your head to the side so her hot lips can have more access to your neck. the galaxy ranger’s hands squeezes your hips, grinding her wet pussy against yours.

“ . . .sorry. “ acheron shyly mutters into your skin, leaving behind open–mouth kisses. you can easily admit that you missed everything about her and it’s disappointing that she decided to end things after weeks of endless thinking, and the final reason was understandable—to protect you from enemies who would go through any means to see her crumble. acheron knows you’re fully capable of defending yourself but she’s afraid of losing another person precious to her.

“ don’t apologize—i missed you too. “ you smiled, she lets out a sad, strained chuckled. the purple–haired woman rocks her hips in a painfully slow rhythm, relishing at the perfect feeling of her throbbing clit rubbing against yours. a soft, yet deep moan escapes her lips, which sounded like heaven to your ears. she brings herself up to sensually kiss your lips, holding herself back from rolling your bottom lip between her teeth.

“ ‘want you to eat me out like you use to. “ you whispered breathlessly between kisses. she stops and pulls away, looking into your eyes with fierce loyalty. “ as you wish. “ acheron simply says, kissing your lips one last time before making her away down between your legs. you shudder as feathery kisses travels along down your navel and inner thighs.

acheron lets you wrap your legs loosely around her head as her warm tongue broadly licks at your dewy folds. “ i still can never get over your taste. “ she mutters, spreading your pussy lips to momentarily admire the sight of your dripping hole. diving back in, she circles her tongue around the entrance, coating the wet muscle with your juices. “ fuckk. .“ you moaned, already on the verge of losing yourself when you catch her half–lidded eyes intently observing you. your face contorted into a adorable look of embarrassment under the intensity of her gaze.

“ y-you. .—i-i’m telling you, you’re going to make me burst if you keep staring at me like that, acheron.”hot breath fans against your clit, causing it to twitch as a chuckle fell from her slick covered lips.

“ i will gladly continue if i get to see those cute expressions on your face, my pretty lady. “