#he might catch himself a handsome rogue

[the-red-sniper]

I believe Jeanette has slipped away to your disgusting van.

She has, and she likes it here. ´M afraid you'll have to come to my "disgusting van" to get her.

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush (Part.1)

Your admiration for your crush causes you to trip, highlighting the awkward yet endearing dynamics between you two.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue & Erik Lehnsherr

Logan (Wolverine)

The day had started like any other at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You were heading down the long hallway leading to the training rooms, trying to focus on the list of tasks Professor Xavier had assigned for the day. But as you turned the corner, there he was—Logan, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, muscles tense under his usual rugged leather jacket. His eyes, always intense and piercing, followed your every move as you approached.

Your heart skipped a beat, and though you tried to stay composed, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him a little longer than you should have. His dark hair was tousled just right, and his rough, rugged features seemed impossibly handsome in the dim light of the hallway. You’d always tried to play it cool around Logan, but the truth was you found him irresistible—his gruff attitude, the way he carried himself with quiet authority, and that raw intensity that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

You caught yourself staring too long and quickly looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. But it was too late. In your distracted state, you missed a small crack in the tile beneath your feet and tripped, stumbling forward with a small yelp.

Before you could hit the floor, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Your breath hitched as you realized Logan had caught you, his grip firm and secure. You looked up, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you met his smirking gaze.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” Logan asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

You could feel the heat rise to your face, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

His smirk widened as he released you, letting his hand linger on your waist just a second longer than necessary. “Seems like you were payin’ attention to somethin’, just not where you were goin’.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I wasn’t—” you started to protest but stopped yourself. There was no point in denying it. Logan had caught you staring, and there was no way to take it back now.

Logan chuckled low in his throat, his eyes darkening as they flicked over your face. “S’okay, darlin’. I don’t mind the attention.” He winked at you, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Just be careful next time, or I might not be around to catch ya.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the flustered smile threatening to break free. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly, your voice betraying the nervous excitement coursing through you.

Logan gave you one last smirk before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the hallway, your heart racing and your mind spinning. You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he held you like that for more than just a moment.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The evening sun bathed the mansion’s garden in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows across the grass. You were walking toward the small patio where the team had gathered after a long day, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Most of those thoughts, however, were focused on one man—Remy LeBeau, the smooth-talking, devilishly handsome Cajun who had been stealing glances your way for weeks now.

You’d always prided yourself on keeping your emotions in check, but something about Remy made that impossible. His effortless charm, the way his deep, accented voice could make even the most mundane conversation feel like a flirtation, and those smoldering red-on-black eyes that seemed to see right through you—it was all too much.

As you approached the patio, your eyes immediately sought him out, and there he was, sitting casually on the edge of a chair, flipping a playing card between his fingers with practiced ease. He was talking to Rogue, but his gaze flicked up to meet yours the moment you stepped into view. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

You quickly looked away, trying to steady your breathing. You knew he’d caught you staring, and you cursed yourself for being so obvious. Determined to play it cool, you focused on the path ahead, but your thoughts were still filled with Remy—his charming smile, the way he seemed to light up any room he walked into, and the way your stomach fluttered every time he was near.

Your focus wavered for just a second, and suddenly, your foot caught on the edge of a stone step. You stumbled forward with a gasp, arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of strong hands caught you, steadying you.

“Careful, chérie,” Remy’s voice drawled softly in your ear. “Wouldn’t want ya to hurt yourself.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you looked up at him, his face far too close for comfort. He was grinning down at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he helped you straighten up.

“I—uh, thanks,” you stammered, your heart racing.

Remy chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he released you. “No need to thank me, mon amour. But I gotta say, I like that you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in your throat. You could see the playful glint in his eyes, and it was impossible to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that.

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a wink.

“No need to be shy, chérie. I know a good look when I see one.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

Your pulse quickened at the heat in his gaze, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything clever to say. His hand lingered on your arm, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he touched you more than just casually.

Before you could respond, Remy stepped back, his trademark grin still in place. “You gonna join us, or you just gonna stand there starin’ at me all night?”

With one last smirk, he turned and walked back to the group, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, and wondering just how long you could keep hiding your feelings for him.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The atmosphere in the mansion was lively today, with the team bustling about, preparing for their next mission. You were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, flipping through a book while trying to calm your racing thoughts. But it wasn’t the mission that had your heart pounding. It was Kurt—Kurt Wagner, the sweet, charming man who had been occupying your thoughts more and more lately.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to him in a way that surprised even you. His kind heart, his gentle nature, and that infectious laugh of his—it was impossible not to fall for him. But more than that, you loved the way Kurt treated you. He was always respectful, always kind, but there was an underlying tension between you two, a connection you hadn’t yet acknowledged.

You sighed, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind kept drifting to the memory of Kurt’s smile, the way his bright yellow eyes seemed to light up whenever he saw you. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the soft *bamf* of Kurt teleporting into the room until he was suddenly standing right in front of you.

“Guten Tag!” Kurt greeted cheerfully, flashing you that warm, heart-melting smile of his.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you looked up, startled. “Oh! Hey, Kurt,” you said, quickly closing the book and hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you’d been daydreaming about him.

Kurt tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You looked deep in thought, meine freundin. I hope I did not disturb you.”

You shook your head quickly, offering him a smile. “No, not at all. I was just… thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Thinking about anything—or anyone—in particular?”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Just… stuff.”

Kurt chuckled softly, his tail flicking back and forth as he moved closer. “Well, I hope it was pleasant thoughts,” he said, his voice gentle and full of warmth.

You looked up at him, and for a moment, your heart fluttered at the way his eyes seemed to glow with kindness. He always had that effect on you, making you feel comfortable and at ease, even when you were a bundle of nerves around him.

But as you tried to stand up, your foot caught on the edge of the chair, and you stumbled forward, nearly falling face-first into Kurt’s chest. His arms were around you in an instant, steadying you before you could hit the ground.

“Vorsicht!” he exclaimed, his hands warm and firm on your waist. “I’ve got you.”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you looked up at him, your heart pounding from both the near-fall and the sudden proximity. His yellow eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His hands lingered on your waist a little longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same magnetic pull that you were.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to pull yourself together. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Kurt smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing your waist as he held you. “It’s quite alright. But you must be careful, meine freundin, or I might have to catch you more often.”

You laughed nervously, your heart racing. “I’ll try to avoid any more near-falls.”

But instead of pulling away, Kurt’s gaze softened, his fingers still resting against your waist. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind if you needed catching every now and then.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and for a brief moment, you felt as though the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, inches apart, with something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Before you could say anything, Kurt cleared his throat, breaking the moment as he slowly released his hold on you. “I suppose we should both watch where we’re going, ja?”

You nodded, still trying to shake off the lingering warmth from his touch. “Yeah… yeah, we should.”

Kurt smiled at you one last time before teleporting away in a cloud of smoke, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind spinning, wondering if you’d ever be brave enough to admit how you felt.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The X-Mansion was always a whirlwind of activity, and today was no different. You were making your way through the training center, trying to stay focused on the drills the team had been practicing, but it was impossible to ignore the tall, composed figure of Scott Summers—your team leader, and the one person who seemed to occupy your thoughts more often than not.

Scott was always so serious, so focused on his responsibilities as leader, that it sometimes made it difficult to get a read on how he felt about anything outside of missions. But over the past few weeks, there had been moments—fleeting glances, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—that made you wonder if there was something more beneath that stoic exterior.

You were lost in thought, your mind running through every interaction you’d had with Scott, when you spotted him across the training floor, arms crossed and eyes hidden behind those ever-present ruby quartz glasses. He was watching the team closely, but the moment your eyes landed on him, he looked up, locking onto you with a gaze that felt more intense than it had any right to be.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly averted your gaze, focusing on anything but the way Scott’s attention made your pulse race. But in your distraction, you misjudged the distance between you and a training obstacle and promptly tripped over a piece of equipment, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

You didn’t even have time to hit the ground before Scott was at your side, catching you with surprising swiftness. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up before you could completely lose your balance.

“Careful,” he said in that calm, authoritative voice of his. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks as you realized just how close you were to him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

Scott’s grip on your arm was firm but gentle, and for a moment, you felt the tension between you, the unspoken attraction that you’d both been trying to ignore. He held you just a little longer than necessary, his gaze focused on you even though his eyes were hidden behind his visor.

“You should be more careful,” Scott said, his voice softening ever so slightly. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Your breath caught at the concern in his voice, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his words. “I’ll try to be,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scott gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile before finally letting go, stepping back and giving you the space you needed to collect yourself. But as he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you—that maybe, just maybe, Scott Summers felt the same way you did.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

The sky outside the mansion was a brilliant blue, the kind of day that seemed to radiate peace and beauty—much like the woman who controlled the weather. Ororo Munroe, with her regal posture and serene presence, had always been someone you admired, not just for her powers but for the way she carried herself with such grace and strength.

Over time, though, admiration had turned into something deeper. You found yourself drawn to her warmth, her wisdom, and the quiet moments you shared together. But you were always too afraid to say anything, afraid that admitting your feelings would somehow disturb the delicate balance between you.

Today was no different. You were walking through the mansion grounds, heading toward the greenhouse where Ororo often spent her time. The sun was warm on your skin, and as you approached, you spotted her among the flowers, her silver hair catching the light like a halo.

For a moment, you just watched her, captivated by the way she seemed to blend so effortlessly with nature, her beauty almost ethereal. You were so lost in the sight of her that you didn’t even notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. Your toe caught on a rock, and you stumbled forward with an awkward flail of your arms.

Ororo looked up just in time to see you trip, and before you could recover, she was at your side, her hand catching your arm with a gentle but steady grip.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing, like a summer breeze.

You quickly straightened up, trying to laugh off your clumsiness. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Ororo smiled, her hand lingering on your arm as she looked at you with those calm, knowing eyes. “It seems you were lost in thought,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing warmth.

You swallowed hard, your heart fluttering at the way her gaze seemed to see right through you. “I guess I was,” you admitted, unable to look away from her.

Ororo’s smile widened slightly as she finally released your arm, stepping back but still close enough that you could feel the warmth of her presence. “Be careful,” she said, her tone playful yet kind. “I would hate for you to fall again.”

You nodded, your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but there was something in Ororo’s eyes that made you wonder if she knew exactly what—or rather, who—you had been thinking about.

Jean Grey

The mansion was quiet, most of the team off on various missions or training exercises. You found yourself in the library, trying to focus on the book in front of you, but your mind kept wandering to Jean Grey—the powerful telepath who had slowly become the center of your thoughts.

Jean had always been kind to you, her warmth and compassion making her easy to talk to. But as time passed, you began to realize that your feelings for her went far beyond friendship. You admired her strength, her beauty, and the quiet confidence she carried, but you were too afraid to say anything, unsure if she felt the same way.

Today, however, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. You had seen her earlier in the day, her red hair shining in the sunlight, and the image of her smile had been stuck in your mind ever since. You were so distracted by thoughts of Jean that you didn’t even notice her entering the library until she was standing right in front of you.

“Hey,” Jean said, her voice soft as she smiled at you.

You quickly looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you met her gaze. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you come in.”

Jean’s smile widened as she sat down beside you, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. “I noticed. You looked pretty deep in thought.”

You laughed nervously, trying to hide your flustered state. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

Jean tilted her head, her gaze soft but curious. “Anything—or anyone—on your mind?”

Your cheeks flushed at her words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your position in the chair. “Just… stuff,” you mumbled, not daring to look at her.

But before you could compose yourself, your foot slipped off the edge of the chair, and you stumbled forward, nearly colliding with the small table in front of you. Jean’s reflexes were quick, and she caught your arm, steadying you before you could fall completely.

“Careful!” she exclaimed, her laughter light and melodic. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—wasn’t paying attention.”

Jean chuckled softly, her hand still resting on your arm as she met your gaze with a knowing smile. “You seem a little distracted today. Anything I can help with?”

Your heart raced at the warmth in her voice, and for a moment, you wondered if she could sense what you were feeling. But you quickly shook your head, trying to brush it off. “No, I’m just… clumsy.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “Well, I don’t mind catching you. Just try not to fall too often.”

Her words were playful, but there was a softness in her gaze that made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she knew exactly what was going on in your mind—even if you weren’t ready to admit it yet.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

It was supposed to be a normal day at the X-Mansion, but with Rogue around, things rarely felt ordinary. You were in the common area, trying to go over mission reports, but your attention kept drifting to Anna Marie. She was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, her gloved hands idly turning the pages as she hummed a familiar tune.

You’d always admired Rogue—from her strength to the way she handled the burden of her powers. But somewhere along the line, admiration had grown into something more. You found yourself drawn to her in ways that made your heart race and your stomach flip. Her quick wit, her beauty, that Southern charm—it was impossible not to be captivated.

But she was untouchable, literally. Rogue couldn’t get close to people, and as much as you felt something between you, the invisible wall her powers created was hard to ignore.

You sighed, trying to focus back on your reports, but Rogue shifted slightly, causing your gaze to drift to her again. Her hair cascaded down her back, the white streaks so striking against the dark brown. You caught yourself staring, and as if on cue, she looked up and met your eyes.

You quickly glanced away, your heart pounding. But the damage was done—your distraction caused you to knock your cup of coffee off the table, and in your attempt to catch it, you lost your balance and nearly toppled out of your chair.

Rogue was at your side in an instant, catching your arm before you could hit the floor. Her grip was firm but careful, gloved hands ensuring no skin-to-skin contact. She smiled, a playful glint in her green eyes.

“Careful, sugar,” she drawled, her Southern accent making your heart skip a beat. “You alright?”

You nodded, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “Yeah, just… clumsy today, I guess.”

Rogue chuckled, her thumb brushing over your arm lightly, sending shivers down your spine despite the barrier of fabric between you. “Looks like you got somethin’ on your mind.”

You tried to laugh it off, though the warmth in her voice and the way she was looking at you made your pulse quicken. “I’m just a little distracted, that’s all.”

Rogue’s smile widened, and she leaned in just a fraction closer. “If you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ important, I could help take your mind off it.”

Her words were teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in her gaze—something that made you wonder if she felt the same electric tension that you did. But before you could say anything, Rogue pulled back, releasing your arm and stepping away with that trademark smirk of hers.

“Just be careful next time, alright?” she said, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual before she sauntered back to the couch.

As you sat back down, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if Rogue was just as affected by the moments you shared as you were—even if there was always that invisible barrier between you.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

Being around Erik Lehnsherr was always a challenge. The man was powerful, charismatic, and brilliant—a force of nature who commanded respect with every word he spoke. You admired his strength and conviction, even if you didn’t always agree with his methods. But admiration had turned into something else, something you weren’t quite ready to admit.

You found yourself in his presence more often than you intended, drawn to the magnetic pull of his personality. Today was no different. You were in the briefing room, preparing for a strategy session, but instead of focusing on the task at hand, your eyes kept drifting to Erik.

He stood by the window, his silver hair catching the light as he gazed out over the grounds, his expression unreadable. You’d seen him in action countless times, watched him lead with precision and power, but there was something about the quiet moments—when he wasn’t Magneto, but simply Erik—that captivated you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize he had turned to look at you until it was too late. Caught off guard, you fumbled with the papers in your hand, dropping them all over the floor.

Erik’s lips quirked into a slight smirk as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the scattered papers floated off the ground, neatly arranging themselves back into your grasp. He didn’t say a word, but the amused glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

Erik crossed his arms over his chest, watching you with that same intense gaze. “You seem… distracted,” he observed, his voice smooth and commanding as always.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “I was just… thinking.”

“About something important, I hope,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. “Or perhaps… someone?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and for a moment, you wondered if he could sense the turmoil inside you. But you quickly shook your head, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about the mission.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence commanding the space between you. “Be careful where your mind wanders, my dear. Distraction can be dangerous.”

There was a subtle edge to his words, as if he knew more than he was letting on. As he turned and walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Erik had sensed the truth—that you were just as drawn to him as he was to power.

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases May 21, 2024

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As an omega abandoned by his betrothed alpha mate, shut-in Minoru shares his heartbreak with the world in the form of music. But when one of his songs catches the attention of famous idol Hijiri, Minoru is suddenly swept from the lonely solitude of his room and thrust into the spotlight — as an omega idol and music producer performing alongside his two alpha bandmates, Eiji and Tatsuya!

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[dariusult]

FFXIV Write Day 17- Sally

"I, Renard de Haillenarte, have sallied forth!" A single, sonorous voice sounded out over the din of battle as Ishgard's Temple Knights clashed with the heretics and insurrectionists of the Dravanian menace. A glorious, shining beacon of chivalrous might, towering over the battlefield with his overwhelming presence. A golden-haired Elezen Knight with eyes that shone with the intense blue of the infinite sky above, and a fair complexion that practically sparkled as his brow glistened with sweat in the midday sun. Truly it was none other than the singularly striking Renard de Haillenarte, in the flesh.

"Evildoers come forth!" Renard shouted as he pointed his blade at the assembled throngs of ne'er-do-wells. "The Rose of Justice shall face you!" The knight barked, announcing his sobriquet before going on to add: "And you shall FEEL MY PRICK!"

A heretic had stepped forward to challenge Renard as he announced himself. A wild-eyed, bedraggled, elezen man with sallow cheeks and sunken eyes. He brandished his blade at the young and devastatingly handsome temple knight, but stopped dead in his tracks as Renard exclaimed that his prick would be felt. The heretic lowered his blade and frowned at the knight he had mere seconds before resolved himself to face. "Wait, what?"

Renard's eyes lit up as an opponent came forward to challenge him, his anticipation to face an enemy in glorious, and most importantly, fair single combat getting the better of him as he completely ignored his foe's sudden hesitation. "And so a challenger appears! Any vile rogue who hungers for my puissant prick shall not be denied! Come!" Renard then twirled his sword with a dramatic flourish before pointing the blade at the heretic, who grimaced.

"Actually, no on second thought I'd rather n-" The heretic began, but was silenced by a sudden shove from one of his fellows, causing him to stumble towards Renard, who practically leapt forward to meet him, swinging his sword in a big overhead arc.

"AND SO BATTLE IS JOINED!" The Rose of Justice exclaimed as the heretic scrambled to parry his blow. He swung his sword again, and again, raining down enthusiastic but amateurish blows, one after the other. A boyish grin gracing his handsome mien. "I'll admit you certainly can take a pounding! But you'll find my own stamina UNFLAGGING!"

The heretic clenched his teeth, and with as much strength as he could muster, knocked Renard's blade aside to create an opening for himself. With sword raised high, he shouted angrily at the Temple Knight before bringing his sword down. "Stop talking!!"

Renard quickly parried the overhead strike, catching the heretic's weapon with his own and bringing the blades into a bind, locking his foe into very close quarters. "Hah! Quite a forceful blow. But I'm no stranger to handling such a solid length!" Renard took his sword tightly in both hands and began winding the blade around his foe's own sword, seeking to give himself an opening. "No matter the defenses, I shall penetrate them!" As if narrating his own actions, Renard threw the opponent's blade aside and then with a flourish, began rapidly stabbing his blade at the Heretic, who began dodging in a panicked frenzy. "I shall thrust! and thrust! and thrust thrust thrust!!!"

That was enough, the heretic had heard enough. Divested of his weapon, and having been pummeled by both a rain of sword blows and unintended innuendos, his will to fight failed him. The scraggly Elezen dove away from Renard's furious thrusting, then, scrambling to his feet, he broke into a run, determined to escape the battle. A quick glance over his shoulder, though, revealed the smiling, sparkling visage of Renard directly behind him and in hot pursuit.

"HAAAhaha!" Renard cackled triumphantly. "Don't think to run, villain! You cannot escape the reach of my prick! Even a most honorable knight such as I will take you from behind if I must!!"

"JUST GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

[anothersigh]

I finally have time to talk about this. I'm weak for paladins, and Paladin Derek would be my perdition. It's so fitting for him. And add in Rogue Stiles...oh, their dynamics would be sooooo interesting to read.

I can imagine Stiles, who has a knack of always stealing from the rich and helping the poor, since he thinks the current laws are so unfair to the people. Leading to having a lot of problems with the authorities, especially since Noah, his father, is a general of an army. 

And one day he sees a new face in town, a rather handsome man, of big stature and with an aura of authority. A serious but a dangerous looking face. But what catches the eye is the sheen of the man's armor.  

He is carrying a big and heavy greatsword which is definitely magical. A breastplate of black scales that added to his dangerous aura but definitely looks expensive. A shield with Nordic and wolf motifs but it looks extremely elegant and luxurious. So Stiles is sure he can get something valuable out of him.

The man walks into a tavern which is perfect for Stiles. When he's distracted by his fatigue, the shows and the beer, the rogue is going to put his hands to work. Besides, Stiles has certain arrangements with the tavern owner and the performers, who let some of the rogue's suspicious activities slide as long as it's for the greater good. It would be a piece of cake.

Or so he thought.

Because when he barely tries to go for the soldier's bag. A strong, heavy grip on his wrist stops him, he lets out a small yelp at the surprise, dropping his invisibility spell. He doesn't know how it happened, his stealth was flawless, but the enraged face in front of him was a clear sign that it wasn't as he thought.

If from a distance, the man was handsome, up close he was totally stunning. His face looked like it had been carved by the best sculptor, his hair was black as night, as was his beard, which was extremely tempting to touch. Stiles had not imagined that green eyes could be so beautiful, although now they were glaring at him with clear anger. And the rogue thought he saw a red glow at the edge of the irises. 

"What do you think you're doing?" the man asked, his nose wrinkling as he seemed to have smelled something and his face turning confused for a moment. It was only a second but Stiles came to notice the change, which caught his attention, because he was sure he had taken a bath.

"You dropped this..." Stiles said in a shaky voice, producing a gold piece from his hand. It was a trick he used as a lifeline in case his sneaking went wrong. But it's been years since he needed to use it. He's still surprised the man noticed, even when he was invisible. And maybe a little scared (not to admit he might be a little aroused, too).

 Because the grip on his wrist was like a hot iron that could snap his bones in two seconds. It was no surprise that a man of that stature would be this strong, after all that armor looked too heavy for a common soldier to carry. But his grip is so firm, Stiles can't see any way to get out of it.

"Are you kidding me? You thought I wasn't going to notice," the man growled. Shit. Stiles quickly thinks of his other excuses or tricks to escape but the warrior spoke again. "I know your type...Always thinking they can get away with it because they have a pretty face or because they're poor and life wasn't fair..."

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked confused. Did he just said that I have…

"You're in serious trouble kid." Said the man standing up, causing Stiles to also get to his feet. Stiles started blurting out a bunch of excuses as he tried to break free from the soldier's grip but it was like iron handcuffs.

The rogue was really sure he was screwed. He doesn't know who the man is but surely he must have a lot of influence. And he also doesn't want to deal with his father's disappointed face again. Accepting his fate, he let himself be dragged along by the man, until he heard a familiar voice.

"Oh Derek. I see you've met Stiles." Stiles had never been so grateful to see his best friend's crooked smile. He is already saved, the human thought. "Now that we're all here, we can start discussing the conditions of the job."

"What?" said both the grumpy man and Stiles.

Scott made his classic confused puppy dog face. "The job I told you about? That Mrs. Morrel asked for? The one to find the goblin lair?"

"Wait a minute... This brute is going to be our healer?" "Don't tell me this kid is the 'skilled assassin' you said?" they both asked at the same time, then glared at each other.

"Brute? You were trying to rob me!" Derek reproached. "It's more than fair that I bring you to justice."

"'Kid?...I've taken down more dangerous men than you can imagine. I'm sure that I know more about combat than you, rich guy in shining armor." Challenged Stiles, quickly taking advantage of the man releasing him out of surprise, to go to Scott's side. He doesn't know anything about the man but he couldn't keep quiet. Maybe the man doesn't know how to fight, but with that strength, it's more than certain that Derek can knock out an orc with just one of his fists.

"You little piece of..." Derek growled. And good lord. Stiles didn't know a man could growl in such a way and sound so dangerous.

But gods bless good old Scott, who after several attempts, stopped the fight and got the two of them to sit down to discuss the job. Although the bickering didn't stop, at least they both agreed to work together. The pay was good and they were both determined to save that small village from the goblin raids.

So they did it, and everything went very well. Obviously with arguments and fights in between but it was really good teamwork. Especially getting to know a bit more about each other. 

How Stiles is not a low life thief and that he doesn't agree with Gerard's government, just like Derek. That he always seeks to help the poor and neglected, the same way Derek does. And that he is extremely intelligent and cunning. Who just happens to also have great skills at being stealthy and pickpocketing.

Stiles learns that Derek's oath as a paladin is one of vengeance, where he seeks to bring Kate Argent to justice, who caused an arson attack on his family's home, taking the lives of many innocent people. He does come from a wealthy family with vast fortune, and that after the fire, Derek inherited everything. But also he has always used his power to help the most vulnerable and helpless. And that, despite being grumpy and cranky, Derek has a big heart. 

Or that also, to Stiles, Hale has the most beautiful smile he's ever seen in his life. Not to forget that there's also the little detail that Derek is a werewolf. 

Anyway, their dynamics would be a lot of fun to read.

Since I saw you post about bg3. Need to know what would your headcanon with Sterek in dungeon and dragons AU. Which class would they be and all that .

you have no idea how long i've been thinking about this and dwelling on it because like, okay.

stiles would want to play as a wizard or a sorcerer or maybe even a warlock. stiles himself though? that boy is a rogue with his thievery, not caring for rules, slight of hand and lying skills. he got the lucky buff and high dexterity so he can pick pocket and he will stab anyone.

on the surface a werewolf would make sense as a druid what with the wild shape and all but derek? derek hale? derek is either a paladin or a ranger. he's aragorn.

[roguesdepravity]

Headcanons for B:TAS Dork Squad? Their s/o doesn’t know their secret identity and mentions that they find their super villain alter ego handsome, and vaguely familiar. How would they each react?

Okay this is really funny to me. But also I wish we could get more time where the true identity of the rogues is hidden for longer. I think you can do so much more with that. So thank you for letting me write something like this!

Mad Hatter (Jervis Tetch)

-Since it would be very difficult for him to hide the fact that he is the Mad Hatter if you got up close to him, he must be actively hiding it from you. If his hand had gotten forced and he had to interact with you he would do his best to not to look your way and let his drones do what ever he needed.

- After the event when you bring up his alter ego, he truly thinks you must have figured it out. Jervis is a bit concerned you'd think less of him because he things you figured it out. When you mention how you thought the stranger was charming and handsome, he would be flattered and absolutely confused. Especially when you tell him that you think he would like the outfit, this "other man" wore.

-"Did you not know that was me dear? Silly bunny. I don't even wear a mask! But honestly you don't mind?"

-He doesn't expect you to help him or anything, but he feels so much comfortable comfortable not having to hide this from you.

Scarecrow (Jonathan Crane)

-As the one who you might not actually not know, he doesn't have to do much to convince you that he isn't moonlighting as a costumed criminal.

-He wouldn't say that he made his costume with it being appealing to anyone but him. However, he is quiet glad you seem to like it, and brought it up to him so offhandedly. The way you speak about his fear gas so intently makes it so much more likely to him that he can let you know the full truth.

- "Would you like to meet the Master of Fear? I'm sure that you might find a new appreciation for him after such a rendezvous."

-When you say yes, he begins to plan the perfect meeting. He wonders what expression you will make when you get a very close up and personal demonstration of exactly what he is capable of when he puts on the mask. He hopes that as he removes it you will look at him with the same amount of admiration and love as you do now.

Riddler (Edward Nygma)

- Edward thinks very highly of himself as the Riddler so the moment you mention that you think he looks good he is quick to ask as much as he can about your thoughts on him. He really is hoping that you might put the clues together yourself since he really wasn't trying to hide it, but you just don't seem to put two and two together.

- "Well I hope this Riddler fellow doesn't steal you away from me. Though maybe if you ask me nicely I might be willing to share.

-Whether you are curious about what he means or if you finally catch on, he will get up and go get dressed.

- He keeps the hat off as he reenters the room and leaves the ball in your court in how you want to procced.

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

Crossing boundaries

Naga BAKUGOU x fem reader

Tw: monster FUCKING , BREEDING KINK

It's not a piss KINK but I've been having thoughts about naga BAKUGOU who marks his territory boarders and you catch sight of him one day because and can't look away as he stands there fisting both his cocks and letting loose a stream hot enough that a bit of steam comes off of it in the morning air. The satisfied look on his face as he goes from tree to tree leaving his sent on each one is giving you thoughts. All you can think about is how hot his cum might be and how good it would feel to have two fat naga cocks inside you, filling you with thick hot cum. You rub your thighs together and let out a small needy sound in your throat. Your outside of his territory but the way his head shoots up at the noise makes you squeak as if you were a trespasser. His red eyes burn through you as a he sticks his tongue out and scents the air. The predatory smirk on his lips only makes your pussy gush more. He slithers up to the end of his territory and calls out to you.

"Come to me little human. I smell your mating juices from here. Come let me breed your hole with both my cock. No male of your species can give you what I can give you."

To emphasize his claim he once again fisted both his cocks but this time he stroked them readying himself for sex. With one hand between your thighs you crossed the territory boarder. Your eyes filled with the image of the monstrous man in front of you. When you were close enough he scooped you up into his strong arms. With a rumble growl that vibrated against your side he made his way back to his lair with you tight against his chest. You continued to rub your palm against your soaked pussy too filled with lust to be wary of the situation you had just put yourself in.

"Such a good little human. I'm gonna fill that fuck hole with my seed till it leaks out again and again. If your fertile you will give me such attractive brats that no other naga young will be able to compare."

You whimper as your pussy flutters at the thought. Once inside his lair he lays you onto what can only be his nest and strips you of your clothes. Naked under him you spread your thighs and show him your soaked folds. Hissing he tastes your pussy with his thick forked tongue before rising up like a destroyer above you. Slowly he works both cocks into you growling at your tightness. After long minutes of moans and stretching he fits most of his cocks lengths inside of you. He pushed your knees to your chest as he pounds a harsh rhythm inside of your already overworked pussy. Your belly bulges and your cervix is bullied open to allow more cock inside. Your screaming and squirting as you fall into what feels like a neverending orgasm courtesy of the handsome blonde naga beating your pussy into submission. As you lay beneath him fucked out and panting he finally starts to cum. His cum was as hot as you thought it be. He roars like the beast he is filling your pussy with shot after shot of his seed.

" I'm keeping you. No other fuck hole has been as tight and no other female has screamed so pretty for my cocks. No one but me can have this. I only deserve the best and that's what you are little human."

@sugarspiceanddynamight @hanji-is-life @miggiisdumb @miraclecherryblossomsblog @mochis-cafe @cupcake-rogue

[nahoney22]

would you write something for gregor? he is so fine!

That Laugh

Gregor X GNeutral!Reader

word count: 1.4k

After a frantic escape, Gregor is left in the hands of Cid who had just about had enough of her parlour being treated as a ‘Clone Clubhouse’. Being put to work, he meets you and he is smitten.

warnings: Fluff, just fluff 😌 also not really proofread ngl.

A/N: oh you already know Gregor is now living in my head rent free 🥵 sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy this fluff with out giggly boy 🥰

tags: @sw-ff @itsjml @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @by-the-primes @cwarssimp @kryptoknight123 @kriffclone @archisstically-done @justalittlecloud @ladykatakuri

When Gregor was physically pushed into the dingy little bar also known as ‘Cids Parlour’ by Wrecker, he wasn’t expecting to be shoved straight to work by the owner Cid themselves. The short and slightly hunched Trandoshan had forcibly shoved a wet sponge into his hand and told him to get scrubbing.

He didn’t even have time to react. Everything happened so quickly. One minute he was a slave to the Empire, then he was being saved by rogue and defective clones and the next he was back cleaning in a grubby bar just like he was back on Abafar.

Where was Rex? He thought that he would’ve come to collect him by now. Few hours had passed and he was now scrubbing at the tables, liquids and sticky foods being nearly impossible to scrub off that he almost broke a sweat doing it.

“Hey! Good to have you back.” The voice of the weequay, who he might add wouldn’t shut up and leave him alone for five minutes along with his friend, had rung out from behind Gregor.

“Hi Bolo, Hi Ketch. How’s things going down here?” You spoke up for the first time and no word of a lie, Gregor felt his heartbeat quicken at the sound of it. He stopped and had to look at you and as his eyes scanned the room, they landed on you.

Skin warm, smile warm, eyes warm… his jaw went slack as his eyes trailed up and down your body. Your clothes fit you like a glove and voice was like a song.

He didn’t know how long he was staring at you until your eyes had flickered over to his, one of the patrons pointing over in his direction. Your smile widened and you had already made your way over to him.

His mind was running wild, your eyes never leaving his and the closer you got the more quicker his heart began to beat against his chest like a drum.

“Hello there.” You greet, hand extending towards him in a friendly gesture.

“U-uh…” he cursed himself for his babbling, he was typically so smooth and slick but his tongue was tied and his heart felt like it had launched out of his chest and tethered itself to yours. Is this what love at first sight is like? Seeing a beautiful person across the room that you can’t even string a sentence together? Was it normal for the whole room to be blurred and his only focus was on you? He was smitten and honestly….? He was pretty happy about it.

You had pulled your hand away slowly as the man in front of you gazed at you and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat flattered? He was handsome and very toned but his eyes held a spark. His eyes held adventure that you wanted to seek. “I see Cid has you slaving away already?” You offered another point of conversation and this time, he managed to reply.

“You could say that, I’m Gregor by the way.” His hand this time extended out, seemingly pretending that whatever his little stare meant didn’t happen. But, you gave him the benefit of the doubt and latched your bare hand to his.

You said your name but he didn’t catch your name. Not at all. Your skin, as expected, was warm. No, not warm – sizzling. It was as if fire was seeping through his blacks and into his skin, burning its way into his veins that pumped straight to his heart. Wow he thought to himself. He wondered if you felt it too but your face always remained smiling so it was hard to tell.

When he spoke, you giggled inwardly. What an adorable voice. You had spoke to many clones in your time, including clone force 99 but this man here, Gregor, was a reg and spoke so different. It was a little croaky but also had the hint of sweetness too it.

It was you who pulled away much to his disappointment and moved around him, taking a seat at a booth he had just cleaned and patted the spot next to him. Like a puppy, he followed. You had his attention.

“What brings you here? Don’t get many clones passing through…” your voice was tinted with uncertainty, suddenly remembering that all clones were different now. Tech had told you in great detail about these inhibitor chips. You glanced at the side of his head and there was no scar… he had not had it removed. You were wary but his persona gave a different vibe.

“Wrecker brought me here.”

His answer surprised you and you looked around but didn’t see the large clone anywhere. “Wrecker? How come you was with Wrecker?”

“They rescued me from an Imperial base. But they lost one in the extraction.” He ran a hand through his already slicked back hair.

Your eyes widened. “L-lost one? Who?”

“Uh, Hunter I think.” He sent you an apologetic look. “Captured by the Empire. The others are going to rescue him.”

Your heart sank a little and you shook your head. “He was always kind to me.” You sigh, rubbing a hand against your forehead. “I hope he’s okay.”

“They’re some of the best fighters I’ve seen,” again he giggled, wether it being a nervous laugh or not you wasn’t but Gregor wanted to put your mind at ease, “heh, I would’ve been grateful to fight alongside them in my commando squad.”

You looked at him and then down to the remaining pieces of armour that he had left. Of course he looked different, the white plastoid that hugged his body was considerably more dense than what normal regs would’ve worn. “You’re a commando?” You ask, genuinely intrigued.

“I was! And I’m, not to brag, a captain too.” He smirked as he leaned back, arms coming up to rest along the back of the booth seats but mentally cringed as he stuck his hand in something gross that was lingering on the back of it, wiping it off his hand as discrete as possible.

“A captain huh? Captain Gregor…” his name and rank rolled off your tongue with a satisfying softness to it, Gregor felt his heart swelter as you said his name, also watching as you chewed on your lip once you said it. “I like it.” —————————

Yourself and Gregor hit it off from there. He had told you all about his life, what had happened to him and how he managed to survive two explosions. You hazard a guess that due to toxic flames he had experienced it had slightly damaged his voice box but you couldn’t help but find his voice both attractive and very cute.

Cid had to go and ruin it however, she came storming out of her little office in a huff and then her yellow beady eyes settled on you and the handsome clone in the corner of the parlour.

‘I’ve been waiting on you for an hour! You gonna do this job for me or swoon over the new decoration in this joint!’ You blushed a bright red and began to stand before Cid cane full force at Gregor this time too, ‘And you, get back to scrubbing! You aren’t leaving until tomorrow.’

You told Cid you’d be right with her and watched as she grumbled to herself and hobbled away, her walking stick crashing a little louder against the floor.

“Sorry, I should really go to see what she has me doing now.” You sigh, not even trying to hide your disappointment about leaving Gregor to himself.

He stands too and takes a step closer to you. “Would hate to see her ugly side.” He chuckles earning a chuckle that matched his.

“Who is to say that isn’t her ugly side?” You sniggered with a hushed tone.

He laughed too but you found it hard to pull away from him even if you weren’t physically touching. Why was you so enraptured with this man? The answer is simple; he was lovely and he thought the same about you. And that laugh.... amazing.

“Maybe we could uh-.” You had gone to turn away after giving him a fleeting smile but stop as he began to speak up. “Maybe I could dwindle my way out of here tonight and take you out?”

A shocked expression at his boldness appeared but how could you say no to that handsome face? The talk you had been having for the last hour was nothing short of boring and this captain had captivated you just as you captivated him.

“Alright, go on then.” You grin, trying not to giggle like a school girl at the prospect of you going on practically what you’d see as a date.

“I’ll see you then sweet cheeks.” He beamed with that sweet voice of his and as you turned away, you caught in the reflection of the mirror that was usually so dirty but now spotless, Gregor fist pumping the air in triumph.

masterlist

[costellos]

❥ ┋ ❝ gojo, itadori, yuta, mai, & the things that make them flustered!

anonymous said: For the Valentine's event may I have blush with Yuuji, Gojo, Yuuta and Mai please? Thank you!

a/n: THIS IS SUCH A POWERFUL LINE UP... omg. thank you, nonnie. there isn’t enough love for Yuta or Mai, so I hope you have as much fun reading this piece as I did writing it! enjooooy.

tw: none.

ask game: 💌 15 valentine’s day questions (closed!)

disclaimer: I’m anime-only outside of the prequel, so apologies if my character interpretations aren’t accurate.

gojo satoru.

Gojo gets flustered when you lean your head against his chest.

teaching isn’t the profession he thought he’d find himself in. after all, he’s the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer of his generation. his fame is akin to a rock star’s in this profession. he could be anything he wanted to be. and yet, here he is, at his alma mater mentoring a bunch of teenagers.

it’s not like he minds. he chose this career path. improving the jujutsu world starts with the next generation. and besides, while his students might be a crowd of snot-nosed kids, he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like being relied on.

and that doesn’t just go for the students — that goes for you, too. he tries to make himself available to the kids and you. he’s not just a mentor, he’s someone you can always come to at the end of the day. he’s the person you know will be there for you, arms open, dumb joke on the backburner.

when you come back home after a grueling mission, breathless and sore, he knows not to say anything. he expects you to clean up and go to bed. instead, you wordlessly approach him and place your head on his chest. no grand gesture. no crocodile tears. just silence and your head on him. and Gojo’s heart explodes. it takes him a moment to process it. normally you push your feelings aside during missions like these. but you’re finally opening up to him, relying on him in the smallest way. it’s not much, but it’s enough to make Gojo swallow hard. ↳ “hey... what’s going on? everything okay?”

itadori yuji.

Itadori gets flustered when you blow hot air into his hands.

it’s been unbearably cold lately. maybe it’s because it’s the middle of February or maybe it’s because it’s his first winter in Tokyo, but nothing could’ve prepared Itadori for how quickly his fingers freeze. he gave up on trying to wear gloves. nothing could properly protect his hands.

his chattering teeth combined with the bitingly cold air at this bus stop are evidence enough that he’s freezing. so you tell him to give you his hands. he’s confused, for sure, but he relents. he trusts you enough to know you wouldn’t do anything weird. besides, you probably just want to hold them.

but because your gloves are wet from the snow around you, Itadori lets out a soft hiss. it makes his skin feel even number than before, if that was even possible. you say a hurried apology and shield his hands as best as you can, cupping them in your own. before Itadori can ask what this is about, you take a deep inhale, and... what. oh? you huff hot air into his palms. is... is this your attempt at keeping him warm?

Itadori blinks. then he blinks two more times. your huffs don’t do anything to help bring warmth to his skin, but. your attempt has his heart pounding a million beats a minute. that alone is enough to bring feeling back to his fingertips. it’s such a sweet and dumb and you way of trying to take care of him. and while your breaths don’t help his hands, his face suddenly feels much warmer. ↳ “[N-Name]! ahaha...! s-stop that tickles!! no, wait, I didn’t mean to literally stop—”

okkotsu yuta.

Yuta gets flustered when you hold his hand.

to be honest, most things you do for Yuta make him flustered. he would turn away, blush on his cheeks, anytime you’d so much as look at him. and when you approached him directly, he could never seem to make direct eye contact with you. he still finds his face warm whenever you give him the time of day, even after a month of dating.

can you blame him? he finds everything about you so wonderful. you’re so patient with him. you guide him through proper form and new cursed techniques. you aren’t just his partner, but a trusted companion whom he would do anything for.

he doesn’t know why you asked him out. there are so many more capable people across the city you could be with. hell, Inumaki is handsome enough. but... that’s a thought Yuta tries to keep out of his head. you’re with him and that’s what matters. for all that he is, he’s yours and he’s happy with that.

even still, he gets this big lump in his throat every time you lace your fingers with his. a wave of anxiety floods his system — can you feel how clammy his palms are? — and he wonders if this is another thing he could fuck up. but then you rub your thumb along his hand and the tide passes over. his shoulders relax. he’s smiling. and if he looks over at you, he can see that you’re smiling, too. ↳ “I... really enjoy our time together, [Name]... ah, was that too cheesy?”

zenin mai.

Mai gets flustered when you fix her lip gloss.

like Yuta, most things you do for Mai make her flustered. she would never admit it, though. she’s far too proud to say that your compliments still giver her butterflies. well. at least say verbally. physically, she turns away and tells you to knock it off, her hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her grin.

the thing is, though: Mai hides her smile a lot around you. it’s not that she’s particularly self-conscious about it. it’s just that when you have the weight of your family’s reputation laying on your shoulders, you grow accustomed to the persona you take on. hence, she presents herself as more intimidating than she means to, even around you.

it’s not that she wants to. hell, she wishes she could show more of her true self around you. she despises the person she’s grown into. she doesn’t know what you find so lovable about who she is. yet you’re still here, and... that says enough for her. so she’ll try to be more honest with you.

that opportunity presents itself while on a date. she’d just returned from the bathroom to fix her makeup when your eyes widen. before she can ask what the look’s for, you take your thumb and swipe the bottom of her lip, fixing a rogue droplet of lip gloss. on instinct, her hand rises up to cover her sheepish grin, but she catches herself. she lets you see her face. and while it’s all sorts of pink, it’s still very much Zenin Mai, the girl you fell in love with. ↳ “th... thanks... it, um... would’ve been embarrassing if anyone’d seen that...”

like this piece? here are similar works! 🌑🌒🌓

[blackkatmagic]

Hi! Firstly thank you so much for the joy you’ve brought us with your rarepairs and rare characters:D If you’re still taking prompts may I ask if you would consider expanding on the Feral/Cody storyline from the Jaster/Maul arranged marriage AU? I was fluctuating between cry laughing at Maul’s reaction to Jaster and actually crying over his genuine worry at how Cody must be treating Feral. Thank you!

“Queen Miraj is going to betray you,” Feral says, and Cody practically jumps out of his own skin.

Instantly, Feral winces, taking a step back as Cody spins, and dips his head, bends forward. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cody stares at him for a moment, then groans, dropping the pad he was clearly about to throw on his desk. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and there's a thread of humor to it that Feral used to miss, the first few weeks of their marriage.

Carefully, Feral takes a few steps forward, and when Cody doesn’t object, he pulls himself up onto the edge of the desk, leaning forward. “Sorry,” he says again. “I thought you’d heard me coming.”

“I never hear you coming,” Cody says, dry. “Start with that assumption.” His gaze flickers from Feral to the door, and he asks, “Can you put the privacy lock on?”

Feral raises a hand, a touch of concentration making the light click over to red, and pretends that Cody's flicker of deep interest isn't half the reason why he used the Force in the first place. Cody's warm sort of intrigue is always soft around the edges, kind, and—it feels good.

“I could wear a bell,” he suggests, smiling a little, and Cody snorts, leaning back in his chair as he considers Feral.

“Collars already?” he asks, bland, and when Feral huffs in embarrassment, glancing away, he smiles. Reaches out, hand curled over Feral’s knee, and it makes Feral entirely too aware of a bruise inches above his hand, left there by his mouth last night. Cody had made it clear he didn’t expect anything, that Feral wasn’t obligated, but—Cody is handsome, and Feral was lonely, and it was good. It felt good, and he likes this, this awareness of Cody that’s doubled and tripled in the hours since.

“If you want,” he says, and Cody slides a hand up his thigh, reaches up. The brush of his fingers over the base of Feral’s horns makes Feral shiver, and Cody's eyes are dark when he looks up at him.

“You took off the paint,” he says, thumb rubbing hypnotically across the curve of one of Feral’s larger horns.

“Bad for sneaking around,” Feral manages to say, though words are a little hard right now.

That makes Cody pause, and he looks Feral over again, then asks, “The queen?”

Feral tips his head in agreement. “I got into her palace,” he says. “Something about her prime minister made me uneasy. They're planning to sell you out to the Republic.”

Cody's lip curls. It’s almost a snarl, almost a Zabrak's expression. It’s almost Maul's expression, transposed and layered with a deeper sort of anger, and—Feral understands that. The life of a Nightbrother is one thing, but Cody and the rest of the clones have been fighting since they moment they came into existence. They were never supposed to exist, were created with stolen DNA by a Sith Lord who thought to play warmonger, and when they killed him they were left with nothing.

Leaning forward, unable to help himself, Feral kisses the snarl off Cody's mouth. Feels the twitch, the breath, and then Cody's hands come up to frame his face, pull him in and deepen it. Cody moans, soft, and Feral’s breath catches. He pushes in, gets his hands on the arms of Cody's chair and almost wants to slide forward, into his lap—

“Oh, kriff,” a voice says loudly, and Cody groans, just as loud and deeply aggrieved. Laughing, Feral breaks the kiss, pulling away and sitting up, and he’s just in time to see Rex slap a hand over his eyes. “Cody.”

“That door was locked,” Cody retorts, and catches Feral’s knees. Pulls, like making a statement, and Feral obligingly lets himself be hauled down, gets a knee on one side of Cody's thighs and sits down in his lap, pulling him in. Cody gladly kisses his jaw, then his throat, then drops his head to kiss the bruise on his collarbone, and says pointedly, “You're lucky you didn’t walk in five minutes later.”

“You're lucky I didn’t walk in five minutes later,” Rex says. “Don’t you have a bedroom? Don’t you think you should save that for later?”

“I think I'm married and you should keep your nose out of it,” Cody counters, and loops an arm around Feral’s lower back. Feral ducks his head, careful of his horns as he hides his smile in Cody's hair, and shivers at the feeling of callused fingers stroking up and down his spine. “And besides, this was a strategy meeting. Feral was just telling me about all the ways Queen Miraj is about to betray us.”

“Droid armies,” Feral says obediently, trying not to grin. “Admiral Trench has one of Dooku's droid armies and he and the queen are trying to arrange a trap for you. Miraj is worried you're going to sell her out to the Republic and reveal what she’s been doing.”

Rex's groan is all frustration. “That was not a strategy meeting, or I've been missing out on a lot—”

“You have been,” Cody says mercilessly. “How’s that bounty hunter you keep failing to catch? Antilles give you any good strategy meetings recently—”

“Shut your mouth, Cody, if the queen’s going to sell us out to Trench I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about—”

Cody snorts. “One more person out to get us when we’re already enemy number one to the Republic and rogue, immoral science experiments made from their heir apparent’s DNA to the Mandalorians. It’s not the end of the galaxy, Rex.”

Feral swallows, reaches up. He cups Cody's cheek, leans in. Doesn’t quite rest their foreheads together, even if he wants to, because it means a lot more to the clones than it does to a Zabrak. Even so, he kisses his temple, then says softly, “Mother Talzin might help you.”

Cody's grip tightens over his ribs. “She sold you into marriage,” he says flatly, and meets Feral’s gaze. “I heard your comm to her. About your brothers.”

Feral swallows, but doesn’t let himself waver. “And you accepted,” he reminds Cody gently. Sees the way he’s about to protest and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter why you did. But the alliance is there. The Nightsisters can help with the Zygerrians.”

“No,” Cody says flatly. “Talzin’s not getting anything from me. I already took the most valuable thing she created, and I'm not giving it back.”

Feral’s breath hitches, and he ducks his head, feels Cody's arms tighten to draw him in. The fact that Cody can just say that, so openly and obviously—

It’s why he keeps using what he was taught for the clones’ sake, even when Cody tells him he doesn’t need to. Cody might not realize it, but Feral’s been waiting his whole life to find someone outside of his brothers to fight for. Maul and Savage will be all right; Savage is with a Jedi who would never hurt him, and Jaster Mereel seems like an honorable man, even in the face of Maul's prickly edges. But Cody needs what Feral can offer, and it’s a new feeling, something like a revelation.

“Good,” Feral says, soft, and Cody's hand smooths up his back, then down. There's a kiss pressed to his temple, a hand against his lower back—

Rex groans, holding his hands up. “Kriff, if you're going to be mushy—”

Even with Feral on his lap, Cody manages to grab a stylus, chuck it across the room, and peg Rex between the eyes without even having a clear line of sight. “Get lost, Rex,” he says, and Feral can't help but laugh, tucked into the curve of Cody's neck, pressed to his skin like a secret.

[On AO3]

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 21 - ao3 -

When he woke, Lan Qiren expected to find everyone talking about what had happened.

He might have even preferred that, despite the cost it would undoubtedly do to his personal reputation; instead, he found that the entire incident had been largely covered up, with even Lan Yueheng uncertain as to what had caused Lan Qiren’s injury other than that it involved some sort of dispute with his brother. That a mangled version of the story had not spread was as sure a sign as anything that He Kexin, whatever her faults or reckless willingness to act on assumptions with little base in reality, had in fact explained what had really happened, and that his brother had decided that he wouldn’t permit her reputation to be tainted by her actions.

Anyone might have expected the honorable Qingheng-jun to have apologized to Lan Qiren at that point for his own reckless assumptions, but his brother had not. On the contrary, he had left orders for Lan Qiren to be punished for breaching the rules of hospitality in striking an honored guest, and for violating several other rules not publicly specified. 

Lan Qiren could imagine which ones his brother had in mind.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lan Qiren said to his teachers, blankly staring down at the punishment order, written in his brother’s hand. He hadn’t even been given the courtesy of being told about it to his face, as anyone might have expected, nor allowed the opportunity to defend or justify himself; he had been summarily sentenced in a note. “I really didn’t.”

His music teacher and his swordsmanship teacher both looked uncomfortable and awkward, each one clearly aware of the breach of protocol taking place – and, given their position as sect elders and honored teachers, very likely the actual facts of what had occurred. They knew that the only thing he was being punished over was for having the misfortune of being selected as the tool for He Kexin’s scheme, and his brother’s order – vastly excessive for a breach of the sort listed as the reason, given the usual standard of punishments – was due only to his own embarrassment and chagrin, and maybe his jealousy that Lan Qiren had unwillingly gotten even a little of the attention he so greatly desired and could not have. And yet, despite that…

“He is your sect leader,” one of them, the latter, said, and if his voice was a little regretful, it was also cold and passionless. “He has issued punishment. Are you defying his order?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were like fists on his knees. “Where is my brother?” he asked. He didn’t think an appeal would be a good idea, even if he were technically entitled to it – it’d be futile, unless his brother abruptly realized how foolish he was being – but he would be fine with it if only the answer wasn’t…

“With Rogue Cultivator He. She has agreed to give him another chance.”

Lan Qiren bit his lip and looked down. He did not like He Kexin, and not only because she had so grossly transgressed against him in an obvious attempt to convince his brother not to like her any longer – an attempt that, given the extent of his brother’s love-madness, probably wouldn’t have worked even if Lan Qiren hadn’t been utterly repulsed by the idea of bedding his brother’s prospective bride – and the idea of her giving his brother another chance at this point, even after having done so much to try to make him go away…

Perhaps she liked men that fought over her, he thought bitterly. Or perhaps it was only that she appreciated how much of his love she had for him to treat his younger brother as nothing on her behalf - though if that was what she was thinking, she was sorely mistaken. 

“Something will need to be done about my brother’s behavior,” he said, looking up at them desperately. “You must know that this is not sustainable, honored teachers.”

“That is not your concern,” his swordsmanship teacher said, while his music teacher merely looked sad and helpless, as if what was happening was a force of nature that could not be quelled or diverted, and not merely a single man’s inappropriate behavior. “Will you accept the punishment? Or do you intend to defy the sect leader’s order?”

Lan Qiren shook his head mutely, and went to the discipline hall.

Afterwards, Lan Yueheng scurried in after him, shoving a healing pill into Lan Qiren’s mouth and holding his mouth shut until he swallowed it. “You should go,” he said, glancing around anxiously. “You don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.”

“You assume I don’t have to,” Lan Qiren said, still shaking from the pain. He’d never gotten that many strikes all at once, not in his life; he could barely stand unaided, and leaned on Lan Yueheng gratefully. “I’m supposed to kneel and meditate on my actions for three days –”

“You can do that somewhere else!”

Lan Qiren shook his head.

But for once Lan Yueheng was right and he was wrong. On the first two days of his punishment, he saw his brother pass by the discipline hall in an excellent mood, his ‘second chance’ with He Kexin going better than he had hoped – according to the gossip Lan Qiren overheard, apparently she did like it when handsome men fought for her and believed in her, and moreover apparently one of her friends had intervened on his behalf – but on the third day, just as he was about to complete his penance for crimes he had not committed, his brother returned suddenly in a fury over some setback. In a bout of bad luck and bad timing, he saw Lan Qiren just as he was making his way out of the hall, and in a fit of temper he had extended his order from one set of strikes to two, even though such a retrospective revision of punishment was contrary to both the letter and spirit of the rules.

He was the sect leader, though. According to the rules Lan Yi had set down so many years ago, as sect leader, he was entitled to vary the rules if he felt the need to do so.

This time, when the punishment was done, Lan Qiren hauled himself out of there, using the wall and sheer willpower to force his shaking legs to carry him, and stiffly announced to the teacher supervising punishments that he planned to meditate in penance in the Cold Spring instead of the discipline hall.

It was technically against the stricter interpretations of discipline, since he’d been punished to kneel, not meditate, but the Cold Spring was known to have recuperative and pain-easing properties as well as acting as an aid to cultivation; his teachers, which had overseen his punishment for the second time with tightly pressed lips signifying disapproval that meant nothing if they were unwilling to take any action to stop it, did not dispute him, and with a nod his freedom was assured.

Lan Qiren had a brief moment of disquiet when he got there and realized that he would have to strip off his clothing in order to bathe – he’d only had enough time to wash himself since the incident with He Kexin, and a quick scrub in the cold air did not leave time to worry about who might try to find him while he lacked a protective layer of clothing – but with a deep breath he reminded himself that he, unlike his brother, would not allow his life to be governed by He Kexin’s whims. Anyway, it would be unhealthy to wade in with all his clothing on; the wet cloth would serve only to make him feel colder and get less benefit out of the water’s healing properties. Even if his golden core was strong enough to resist most of the negative effects of catching cold, there was no need to tempt fate.

He put his clothing somewhere he could easily see it, tucking his access token into the clothing in such a way that summoning the token would drag along the robe as well, and then unsteadily entered the water, wincing at the bracing chill as he sank down until he was neck-deep in the water, settling himself in the proper position to meditate. Or, well, to sit blankly and wait for there to be a little less pain: even putting aside the severity, it was also the first time he’d ever been subject to back-to-back punishments in such a reckless fashion. Lack of treatment after a punishment was fairly standard if the sentence also included kneeling – technically, Lan Yueheng shouldn’t have given him a pill to encourage healing, and Lan Qiren shouldn’t have accepted it, although doing so was not a major breach. Moreover, given that the teachers had ignored it rather than adding on any additional punishment, it might even be seen as having been subtly countenanced.

Lan Qiren rather wished he had one now.

Or Lan Yueheng, for that matter. Or even Cangse Sanren, far away in Yunmeng, or Lao Nie, or someone, anyone, who would be friendly and take his side, even –

“Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren blinked, surprised to note that the angle of the light had changed considerably; he must have fallen asleep or otherwise drifted off. Or perhaps he was still asleep, because why else would he be hearing Wen Ruohan’s slow drawling tone saying his name in the middle of the Cloud Recesses?

“Ah, little Lan,” the man himself said, gliding out of the mist that surrounded the Cold Spring like a wraith. “There you are.”

Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. “You’re – here.”

It didn’t feel real. How could Wen Ruohan be here?

“I am,” Wen Ruohan said, his lips curved in his usual arrogant expression, the one that said I don’t care what you think of me. “Or am I expected to await your invitation in the future?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, because he felt even less in control of anything to do with his sect than he had been when he’d been its second young master, even though he was now the presumptive heir. His vision of Wen Ruohan blurred and briefly doubled; he blinked to clear it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Even if it was true.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes briefly widened, and then he smirked, looking delighted by the admission. “So you missed me after all,” he said, his voice low and intimate; one might almost call it a purr. “Ah, my stubborn little brother…”

Lan Qiren briefly closed his eyes. Had his brother ever referred to him directly like that? He couldn’t remember if he had.

He wished that it had been some single moment in time, some rash act, that had driven his blood brother, born of the same father and mother, so far away from him. He even wished that it was something that he had done so that it could be something he might fix, might repair with apologies and penance, but he knew that it wasn’t.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that Wen Ruohan had come closer, prowling along the edge of the Cold Spring with his red eyes fixed on Lan Qiren. His pace, as always, was slow and steady – it felt inexorable, unstoppable, and Lan Qiren did nothing to stop him, watching blankly as he came forward, crouching down right beside the place where Lan Qiren was sitting beneath the water.

“Little Lan,” Wen Ruohan purred. “My little Lan…”

He reached out, his long-nailed fingers tracing down along Lan Qiren’s cheek, as light as snowflakes, and down to his chin, catching it in a strong grip and turning his face to look up at Wen Ruohan.  His thumb brushed against Lan Qiren’s lips.

Lan Qiren swallowed. It had been, he thought, too long since he had felt the touch of someone who wished him well, or indeed anyone at all; he had missed it more than he had realized.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and his smirk widened.

“I heard a rumor that you had been caught in attempted adultery,” he remarked. “I didn’t believe it, of course, and no one else did, either – but I had to come see for myself.”

“I didn’t,” Lan Qiren croaked. His voice felt strangled and inexplicably hoarse, and he found himself absently calculating distances in the back of his mind: Wen Ruohan must have left the Nightless City for the Cloud Recesses the very moment he received the report from his spies on what had happened in order to be here now. “I really – didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding cool and amused. “It didn’t really seem like something that my little Lan would do. My little Lan, who missed me so…”

Lan Qiren tried to turn his head away, not wanting to see the smug satisfaction in Wen Ruohan’s voice and face and manner – Wen Ruohan hadn’t won, he thought stubbornly to himself. Lan Qiren hadn’t given up on his conviction that such torture was wrong or that Wen Ruohan was wrong in engaging in it. It was only that Lan Qiren was tired and in pain, and willing to accept comfort from just about anyone.

Wen Ruohan wouldn’t let him turn away, though, and overpowered his weak movement easily.

“Don’t fret,” he said coaxingly. “I missed you, too.”

That sounded nice.

“I must admit, I tried not to. I thought to myself that if you were so foolish as to turn away from me, the consequences should be on your own head, nothing to do with me. But despite my best efforts, you were never far from my thoughts…”

Wen Ruohan’s hand released Lan Qiren’s  chin and drifted down to his throat, lightly pressing his nails against his skin as if examining how the color changed when he did. He moved closer, too close for Lan Qiren to see him clearly given the mist and the angle; his second hand fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulder, while his first continued to drift down, skating along his collarbone, drifting over to his side –

His touch slid across one of the stray bruises left over from his punishment.

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was a bad idea, of course. The involuntary reflex moved his body too quickly, straining all his other cuts and bruises, and the spike of pain from that made him gasp and instinctively curl up. His vision briefly whited out, and he struggled to control his breathing, keeping it slow and shallow to let the pain pass over him.

After a moment that felt overly long, his vision cleared. When it did, he became aware that Wen Ruohan’s fingers were pressed to his brow in the place between his eyes, transferring warm qi to him in such a torrent that it almost hurt; Lan Qiren lifted up a hand to stop him.

Wen Ruohan was faster than him, though, and he pulled away his hand and caught Lan Qiren’s, pulling it up to examine the bruising that was already appearing on the back of his arm – stray marks, in the main part, since the majority were on his back, between his neck and thighs. “What happened?” he asked, voice sharp. “How did you get these wounds?”

Lan Qiren looked at him in bewilderment: was this not the same man he had seen twist human beings into shapes their bodies could not bear, burn them with fire and slice them into bits? Why would he care so much over a few bruises and cuts, the marks left behind by unyielding wood when it struck flesh, instruments of discipline used a thousand times over in every single sect? 

“You know already,” he said, unable to keep the slight tone of plaintive accusation out of his voice. “You said you believed me…”

Wen Ruohan stared at him, expression strangely blank, and then in a single gesture he pulled Lan Qiren up to a standing position, waist-deep in the water and choking on the pain of it, back bent forward like a bow, the worst of the marks now visible to Wen Ruohan’s burning gaze.

“What is this?” he demanded.

It wasn’t really a question that needed answering, and he wasn’t really asking, not anymore, but Lan Qiren responded regardless: “Punishment.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand was tight on his wrist.

“For what?” he snarled, and he sounded furious. Lan Qiren didn’t know if he’d ever heard Wen Ruohan sound this angry - he didn’t know if anyone alive had heard him be this angry, and if they had whether they’d survived the experience. “It is impossible that you actually bedded your brother’s lover. So what possible reason could they have for punishing you?”

“He’s my sect leader,” Lan Qiren said groggily. His head was starting to hurt; he had exited the cold water too quickly. “Does he need a reason?”

The hand on his wrist tightened still further. Lan Qiren would probably have bruises there in the morning as well, equally undeserved - but he minded these far less. 

At least Wen Ruohan was angry on his behalf.

“Qingheng-jun is daring indeed,” Wen Ruohan said, his voice as smooth as silk and as dark as a moonless night. “To think he can act with impunity to anyone he wishes, even going so far as to harm one with whom I share an oath –”

“…do you?”

Wen Ruohan stopped. “Share an oath with you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. His head lolled a little, and he found that somewhere along the line he had been drawn into Wen Ruohan’s arms, making it easy to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. Wen Ruohan was overly warm, as always; his sect always preferred cultivation techniques involving yang energy and fire – it wasn’t a surprise, not really, but it was unexpected how pleasant it was. “Need a reason.” He shook his head a little. “You hurt people, too.”

“You are not just any person,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re my little brother.”

“I’m his little brother, too.”

He felt Wen Ruohan’s hand, blazingly hot against his water-chilled body, come to rest on his hair.

“You were born with poor luck in brothers, little Lan,” he said, his breath warm against Lan Qiren’s ear. It was as if all the heat in the world was contained in his body, and Lan Qiren capable only of leeching off of it. “Not just him, but me as well; we each fail you in turn. I will not apologize for having bound you to me, for I do not regret it – but I will endeavor to make it up to you.”

Surrounded by all that warmth, Lan Qiren drifted off to sleep.

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P2)

this is ridiculously late and im so sorry, but here’s part 2 of this list!!

//

sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).: @nethandrake

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)

Rising: @withstarryeyes

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.

the square root of infinity: @firebrands

steve and tony have their first fight. tony doesn't handle it well.

A Social Engagement: @finduilasclln

Written for the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Steve agrees to something without fully comprehending what it means. Modern times are confusing.

Wounds Without A Bandage: @gotthesilver

Tony burrows deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the last year. Taking control of Stark Industries was one thing, even if it had been a shock to Obie and the rest of the board when Tony came of age and started dispensing of all his dad’s old cronies, but SI’s exploration team actually finding Steve? Tony deciding Steve should come live with him? Tony has regrets.

Well.

He has regrets this morning.

Before last night, the most Tony regretted in relation to Steve was not jumping him the moment it became clear all his faculties were intact and that Tony hadn’t defrosted a brain dead Captain America.

Love Like A Hunger: @gotthesilver

Pushing the door open to the bedroom, Steve pauses at what he sees. “Tony? I—”

“Surprise?”

“I—” Steve swallows, taking in the sight of Tony, blood instantly going to his cock as he looks him up and down. “You look—wow.”

Tony’s got on a damn Princess Leia outfit, gold curling around his chest and hips, with red fabric skimming over his crotch, and Steve’s brain feels like it’s shut down.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

the james braincell: @starklysteve

“Right. How do we get them to admit they love each other?”

In front of him, Bucky brings out a metal flask and takes a swig out of it. “Hell if I know. You’re the genius who went to MIT.”

“I studied aerospace engineering,” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “not how to get two idiots to kiss.”

-------

Or, Bucky and Rhodey are the braincells.

In a desperate last ditch attempt, they set Steve and Tony up for a blind date.

Steve and Tony don't know that their date is each other. But they might have a braincell of their own. Might.

the good place (is next to you): @starklysteve

“I mean,” Tony tries his best shot at breaking the tension, “if you’re stuck with the wrong guy, at least I’m sexier than your real deal?”

Tony died and got sent to some sort of heaven, with Captain America as his soulmate. Except, they got the wrong Anthony Stark, and to stay in the Good Place, Tony must convince Steve to teach him how to be good.

-x-

(watching The Good Place is not necessary to understand this AU, but will help)

president captain america: @livingtheobsessedlife

He’s supposed to be campaigning to be elected as president of the United States, not pining over some billionaire he met at one of his campaign events. And yet, Steve can’t seem to get genius, philanthropist (and his newest big-time donor) Tony Stark out of his head.

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Between Two Infinities: @/anonymous

The Titanic, 1946. Steven Grant Rogers did not think that going to war would end up with him being three times his normal size with superstrength and agility to boot, and... rich...but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Steve also didn’t expect to fall out of love- if it was even love in the first place- with the woman he was explicitly told to propose to, and instead fall for a formerly rich, formerly a playboy, still a genius, Tony Stark. Especially because, you know, it was a little tiny bit illegal, and he was supposed to be “America’s Golden Boy”, as Bucky put it.

All Tony expected out of the trip was to escape Europe with his best friend thanks to a lucky game of blackjack. He didn’t think he’d find himself having sex in the back of a car located in the cargo hold of the Titanic, or almost jumping off said ship. But that was just the life of a rogue Stark child, wasn’t it? At least Peggy was nice. Her dad, not so much.

A Thief Like Tony Stark: @dontholdthiswarinside

Tony is a high ranking criminal, known for his talent to disappear. Steve is a disillusioned soldier who needs some cash.

And some people will always be heroes, no matter what they do for a living.

The Things We Can’t Unsee: @/orphan-account

The mission was simple: get in, gather information, get out. Of course, Steve never really expected the enemy to follow this plan. One way or the other, something was bound to happen. They were the Avengers, after all. Nothing ever went easy for them.

What Steve didn’t expect was it going as far as it did; he didn’t expect having to make a decision that nobody should have to make.

Now Bucky’s lying there, bloody and dying all because of him, and Natasha’s poisonous words keep ringing in his head. Thinking about the ring he carries with him every day, Steve knows she’s right.

He’d never be able to make that call if it were Tony.

The Last Barman Poet: @nativemossy

Tony wasn't expecting anything more than dealing with a tequila-drunk Clint and a slightly wrinkled suit on this trip to Mexico. He got plenty more than he bargained for when he catches the eye of a handsome vacationer at the swim-up bar. Tipsy shenanigans ensue.

[gothicstay]

lust. [intro]

pairing: vampire!felix x afab/gen. neutral! reader

warnings: not sure honestly, this is just an intro! if you see anything that needs tagging, please let me know!

proofread? no

a/n: hello! this is a new series i’ve been wanting to start this past week! basically, i couldn’t decide on writing a vampire or werewolf felix au, so i’m having you guys decide! once i finish writing the werewolf one, a poll will go up, and i’ll let you guys decide what i write! eventually i might write both but yeah! please leave feedback in my askbox or the tags and let me know if you enjoyed! (another note i do plan on these eventually having smut, so you’ve been warned!) please share as well, enjoy your day/night!

the things you have been told of blood-sucking creatures called vampires have been mostly true. however, we do have differences, and we blend right into the world around you.

vampires became a thing, really, when the first vampire made a blood oath with the Devil himself, and cursed him and his children with an unquenchable thirst for human blood and superhuman strength.

however, he only cursed them.

the children, however, were angry with their father. and, instead of talking it out with dear-old-dad, the children figured out how to make others join in what they felt was a constant suffering. though, that plan backfired when second and third generation vampires during the victorian era figured out how to co-exist with humans and not be thirsty for blood for long periods of time.

however, not every vampire liked that, or felt the same.

so, the vampire rulers at the time, in the 1800s made a force of sorts to deal with it. that’s the force that pretty much felix had grown up in, during the day playing video games and doing online university, and spending his nights fighting or dealing with the rogue vampires.

however, he did not expect himself to be protecting a human from a rogue vampire gang full time until they were dealt with or until they were bored of them.

and that’s how you got here, sitting on this vampire’s couch, wondering why the fuck you thought it was smart to call a vampire who this man called a “rogue” a “man who’d never get pussy” because you were annoyed at him during your last shift. definitely not how you wanted to start your summer, to say the least.

“do i really have to stay here?” you said, looking around the messy living room which only had a couch, a yellow coffee table (that was not matching the ugly read carpet), and a TV that stood on the ground.

“it was either me or a guy with a wife and three kids, and i can’t be able to guarantee the kids accidentally won’t confuse you for a snack.” felix said, trying to set up a air mattress for you to sleep on.

you groaned loudly, slumping into the couch. “am i ever allowed to go out? it’s too dark in here...” you look around, each window has the shades drawn.

“no, you’re under witness protection.” felix said, finally getting the mattress up finally, celebrating mentally. “you can open the blinds but it can’t be in this room, it would hurt me more then you.”

“I thought the windows here protected you?” You said, turning your head and perking your eyebrow up.

“Not really.” he said. “I’m a broke college kid who goes to school on his computer. The landlord won’t replace the windows no matter how much the regulations change and require him to do so.”

you sigh. “when can I then?”

“when i go to work.” felix said. “then you chill out there and you’ll get social interaction for the day that isn’t me.”

you groan again. “what can i do here then?”

“play video games, practice your cooking skills, catch up on sleep, something like that.” he said again, finally finishing the air mattress. “i recommend sleeping, i got a 7 hour watch shift tonight and those seats at work are not nap worthy.”

the vampire called felix was endearing, he was incredibly handsome. however, his way of un-life of sorts was close to driving you mind.

however, you agreed. a nap was definitely something you needed from the past two nights you just had. maybe you could properly sleep today, finally.

felix handed you a fuzzy blanket, a small smile shown visibly. “enjoy your nap, y/n. i’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

and just like that, he was off to his room.

another thing, this man was incredibly endearing. it was driving you mad, for certain. he may have seemed to not care, but he does.

you just hoped his job wasn’t going to be like this ugly ass carpet.

[omgrachwrites]

His Eyes - Sirius Black

Pairing: Writer!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You’re a courtesan in Paris and you meet with a man who you think is a Duke (who is in fact a writer) for a private poetry reading. Moulin Rouge au.

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff, drinking, 18+??

Words: 1572

Disclaimer: All main characters are 18+

Lyrics/Poetry: Your Song - Elton John

Poetry by Ben Maxfield

A/N: This is my Moulin Rouge au, that I might turn into a fic, how have I only just seen this film?! Pretty sure this au has been done before, I made Slughorn the owner of the Moulin Rogue bc its actually Jim Broadbent in the film so I thought it made sense, you don’t have to watch the movie to understand what’s going on! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

Montmartre, Paris 1899

Even from the inside of the dressing room, you could hear the crowds raging in the stuffy smelly night club in Montmartre, Paris. Sighing at your reflection in the mirror, you forced out a smile as you painted your lips, you had to appear happy but it wasn’t working much. You rolled your eyes and took another sip of Absinthe, coughing and spluttering at the strong taste of the green liquid; you should have been used to it by now.

Lily, your fellow cabaret dancer and courtesan laughed as she ran a comb through her fiery red hair, “how are you feeling about tonight?” she asked as the nerves swarmed in your stomach.

Unfortunately, you were the most popular dancer at the Moulin Rouge so the dallying with important men always fell to you. A Duke –who you didn’t even know the name of, he was just The Duke – was going to be in attendance tonight. The plan was for you to bed him so he could invest in the Moulin Rouge and turn it into a proper theatre. You were nervous to have to bed a man that you’d never met before; you had no idea what he was like.

“Nervous,” you admitted with a laugh.

Lily nodded understandingly, “you’re the only one who can do this,” she offered you a small warm smile that did nothing to quell the nerves, “come on, I think your crowd awaits,” she laughed.

You sucked in a nervous breath as you stood up, downing the rest of the Absinthe as you stood up, adding the finishing touches to your makeup and ridiculously sheer costume. You descended from the ceiling on a trapeze, hardly hearing the whoops and cheers below as the spotlight followed you down.

You scanned the enormous room to try and guess who The Duke could be; your eyes lingered on a handsome dark haired young man who was sitting with Lupin and Potter who were trying to set up a show. As you reached the floor you plastered the smile on your face that made men fall in love with you. You danced with multiple partners, letting them touch you just enough to keep the money coming.

As your performance reached its climax you danced your way over to the Moulin Rouge owner, using the dance as a ruse to speak to him about The Duke. Horace Slughorn was more of a father figure to you than a boss, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for him, “Is the Duke here?” you hissed.

Slughorn looked over your shoulder, a smile spreading across his pudgy face as he saw the man with his long blonde hair. Unbeknownst to you, Lucius Malfoy was watching you dance with a hungry look in his cold eyes. The smile slipped from Slughorn’s face as he watched Pettigrew spill a glass of Absinthe all over Malfoy, staining his pristine white shirt green.

“He’s here.”

“Which one is he?” you asked as you swapped places with Slughorn, scanning the sea of people.

“The one Pettigrew just spilt a glass of Absinthe over.”

You squinted as you glanced over to where Pettigrew was sitting with his friends. Pettigrew picked up an empty glass and was speaking into the ear of the handsome dark haired man. You completely missed the annoyed looking man with a stained green shirt. You gasped as you felt blood rise to your cheeks, “that’s him?”

He was so handsome that this was going to be easy, you were going to be an actress one day, and it was easy to trick men into falling in love with you. Men believed what they wanted to; you would never fall in love that was for certain. After your performance you sauntered over to the man who you thought was The Duke, though unbeknownst to you, his name was Sirius.

Your hands were on your hips as you stood in front of him. Potter let out a long wolf whistle, making you glare at him before you reverted your attention back to The Duke. Sirius visibly gulped as he looked up at you and you noticed just how pretty his eyes were. The perfect stormy grey colour, framed by thick lashes.

A flush spread across his cheekbones as you placed two fingers beneath his chin, “I believe you’ve been expecting me?” you made your voice breathy as you pouted your lips and fluttered your eye lashes at him.

“Yes,” he muttered, making you grin as you took his hand, blowing a kiss to Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew as you pulled The Duke over to the dancefloor. The real Duke, Lucius Malfoy watched you with an incredulous look on his face.

As you danced with the gorgeous man he told you that James had arranged a secret ‘poetry reading,’ that was a euphemism if you ever heard one. You rolled your eyes, you were going to murder Potter, he’d been pestering you to take part in the show.

“Meet me in the Elephant room, handsome,” you pressed a kiss to the column of his throat as you tugged at his hair, smirking when you heard a groan catch in the back of his throat, “I need to freshen up,” you shot him a coy glance over your shoulder as you retired to the dressing room.

You decided to unpin your hair so it fell naturally and you changed into a corset with stockings and you draped a thin covering of sheer silk on top. Now that you had met Sirius you weren’t nervous about what you had to do, he was just another client, albeit a devastatingly rich client. The Duke was standing at the window, looking at the city below, even from behind you could tell that he was tense. What did such an important man have to worry about?

As the door closed behind you, Sirius jumped and turned to face you. His grey eyes scanned your body, taking in every curve and dip with the ghost of a smirk on his face, contrasting with his nervous body language.

“Is this poetic enough for you?” you laughed with a wink as you sashayed your way across the room and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Y/N, what,” he began to ask as you pulled him into a fiery kiss, you wanted to get this over and done with. Sirius hesitantly kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you, bunching his hands in the thin silk.

When you pulled away, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but you stopped him by placing a finger over his plump lips, “no more talking,” you whispered, “let’s make love,” you pushed towards the bed, making him gasp in pleasure. With a smirk, you opened his shirt and straddled his waist.

“Y/N, wait,” he looked at you through lust filled eyes and he wrapped a gentle hand around your wrist to stop you from taking his pants off. You looked down at him with wide eyes, “I want to, God, I want to but I’m here for a poetry reading. I’m so interested in the show,” he moved out from beneath you and got off the bed.

You narrowed your eyes at him, The Duke was here to bed you, so what was he playing at? This whole poetry thing must have been a euphemism. You reclined back on the silk pillows and poured yourself a glass of champagne. You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.

“Well please; go on with your poetry.”

 The Duke gave you an appreciative glance as he began pacing the length of the room, muttering to himself and you quickly realised that he really wanted to do a poetry reading, “it’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside…” he trailed off as you pulled a confused face and he sighed. You strangely found this whole situation endearing but this was a waste of your time.

“Your eyes are the sweetest that I’ve ever seen,” you scoffed and giggled at his words as he sat beside you on the bed, looking slightly more confident. His stormy grey eyes that should have looked cold were warm as he looked at you, “how rare it is to find someone whose eyes shine brighter than the stars,” he smiled and that was the moment that you were rendered speechless as he performed his poetry.

The beautiful words spilling from his lips caressed you like a kiss and you unashamedly gazed at his lips. It was hard to believe that he was performing poetry he had already written, and it wasn’t about you. Maybe this whole acting thing would be harder than you anticipated as you looked into his handsome face and counted the freckles sprinkled across his nose.

Sirius’ voice was as smooth as honey, “I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you’re in the world,” he grinned as his thumb stroked against your jaw and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oh,” you breathed, pulling out your acting skills as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he dipped you slightly on the bed, his lips an inch from yours, “I never thought that a Duke could have such a way with words.”

“A Duke?” he scoffed as he grinned down at you, “I’m not a Duke.”

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

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​ @fandomxreaders​

[m3kuroshirt]

House of Assassins Part Three

Links to Part One, Part Two

Word Count: 2704

Warnings: None

Ichigo had a Problem. And that Problem’s name was Grimmjow. For the past two months, the strong, handsome, sometimes brash, and very, very forward man seemed to show up almost everywhere Ichigo went. And yes, Ichigo liked looking at his pretty eyes and his strong chest and his smug grin. But also, Ichigo had jobs. Dangerous jobs. How was he supposed to complete them with a civilian hanging around him all the time, and not give himself away? Whether he enjoyed Ichigo’s company or not, he was almost certain that Grimmjow would go running to the cops like a good citizen if he knew the true nature of Ichigo’s work.

Which is why, on a Thursday, Ichigo was outside perched on a park bench…at one in the morning. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands briefly. His head was fuzzy from being awake all day and then dragging himself out to the park so late…early?...but he needed to try and keep his wits about him. The man he was meeting was known for his…games. And Ichigo had no intention of getting strung along. Especially as the man was a friend of Kisuke’s. Ichigo really had to wonder at that man’s definition of friendship…did he think it just meant ‘person who hasn’t killed me yet’? Ichigo shook his head with a sigh.

“That’s a pretty dramatic sigh,” a low voice commented. Ichigo turned to look over his shoulder. In the moonlight he could see a shadow of a figure standing several feet away. “Life got you down?” The figure approached now that he knew he had Ichigo’s attention. As he stepped closer, Ichigo could make out more details. Long dark wavy hair pulled back in a low ponytail. A suit that looked slightly disheveled as if the person had taken a nap in it. Scruff around the chin and five o’ clock shadow on his cheeks. A tired-looking face with a kind expression, but with eyes as sharp as the blades he figured had to be concealed somewhere on the man’s person. After all, Shunsui Kyoraku was known for wielding dual swords.

The man was beside the bench now. He gestured to the empty space next to Ichigo. “Mind if I join you?”

Ichigo shrugged, feigning indifference. He didn’t dare let the other man see how intimidated he felt. “Do what you want.”

Shunsui eased himself onto the bench with a sigh. “You know, I was a little surprised at the time Kisuke suggested. It’s not easy for an old man like me to get out and about at all hours of the night anymore,” he spoke with the air of a man commenting on the weather, but Ichigo knew there was another meaning to his words. ‘You better be worth the effort I’m making to see you’ was the unspoken threat in the older man’s eyes when Ichigo met his gaze. Ichigo stared back at him calmly, brown eyes determined and unwavering. Shunsui must have liked what he saw there, because he smiled suddenly. He turned to face forward, observing the empty park in the silvery light of the moon and stars. “You know, there’s a new pharmaceutical company in town. Pretty interesting, actually, they say they have a new drug. One that’s supposed to enhance the user’s fitness and strength, optimize calorie use, cut down reaction time, and just overall make a person physically…better.”

“Do they?” Ichigo wasn’t stupid. He’d heard of Hueco Mundo Pharmaceuticals. He’d even seen promos for their so-called ‘miracle pill’. To the average person it probably sounded ‘too good to be true’. To those desperate enough to try it, they probably believed it was a bit embellished. To Ichigo? He figured it probably did all those things exactly as advertised. He’d been around Kisuke long enough to know things that seemed impossible were rarely actually so. But he wondered what a person had to sacrifice to reap the benefits of that ‘miracle pill’.

“They do.” Shunsui’s voice had lowered and his tone was more serious now. “Naturally, Unohana looked into it.” Ichigo felt his lips quirk upward slightly at the mention of Unohana Retsu, the number one pharmacist in the city, and Kisuke and Tessai’s personal supplier for both medications and poisons. Though, he couldn’t help the twinge of unease in his chest. If Unohana looked into it, there was most definitely something wrong. The woman didn’t get involved personally where she didn’t have to. Even with Tessai and Kisuke, she insisted they were customers and business was not to be discussed outside of work-hours when she visited for tea.

“And?”

“Shinji. Hiyori. Kensei. Hanataro. Four of her top employees are missing.”

Ice gripped Ichigo’s soul and he felt dread wash over him. His hands clenched into fists and a frown settled onto his face. “Does she know what happened?”

A light breeze stirred the night air, tugging gently at Shunsui’s long hair and making a shiver roll down Ichigo’s spine. “They were sent to find out information. Not even infiltrate, just act as customers. Each of them disappeared after receiving one shipment of the medication. We don’t even know if they ingested any. There’s no trace of them, and the only hint we even had that they managed to get the medication was the packaging found in their homes.” Shunsui paused for a moment and let the information sink in. Then he continued, “Until yesterday. Unohana received an unlabelled, unmarked package. It had a disc inside.”

Ichigo’s mouth went dry. Images of the four employees, people he might even dare to call friends, rushed through his mind. “What…what was on the disc?” he asked. His voice was strained, and he hated the emotion it gave away, but Shunsui didn’t look at him, didn’t even blink.

“You’d have to see it to believe it,” was all he answered, his voice uncharacteristically soft and saddened. He cleared his throat. “You know how Unohana is. She has her pride. There’s no way she’s letting this go. But she can’t act on her own. Four of her best are out of action, and she’s in the eye of the public as a charitable public figure, advocating for health care and all that. Isane is pulling more than triple her usual amount of work. There’s no one else. She reached out to me, but…well.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up in his throat. “Well what? You’re not usually one to outsource to Kisuke,” he prompted, trying to keep his mind off the inevitable fate of his friends. Shunsui sighed.

“You’re aware that two of our squad captains…defected last year and went rogue.”

Ichigo gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re kidding. You’re not telling me they joined Hueco Mundo?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And that’s why I can’t send my people after them. Gin and Tousen know all of them. Hell, Tousen trained more than half of them. We’d get nothing but a bunch of dead spies if I sent anyone after them.” Shunsui didn’t try to hide his frustration. He clasped his hands together so tightly the knuckles turned white, and he fixed a glare at the shadows in the distance. He took a deep breath in and rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck. “Unohana doesn’t want to just hit the company where it hurts. She wants to obliterate them. Cut off their head, so to speak.” Shunsui finally turned to face Ichigo again. Ichigo met his gaze calmly, doing his best not to give away the roiling rage, the burning fear, the sickening unease that settled into his gut. “I’m asking you to take the job. You’ll be well compensated, once the head of the company is dead.”

Ichigo took one breath. In and out. Then another. Nice and easy. His restless thoughts cleared away like clouds sailing on the wind. There was only one choice; from the moment he’d been asked to go by Kisuke he’d made up his mind. He wouldn’t back out now.

“I’ll do it.”

***

The streetlights cast a warm glow as the limousine sped to his home. Ichigo hadn’t been able to refuse Shunsui’s offer to escort him home, especially when the walk to the park had been cold enough on its own. And he trusted Nanao’s driving.

“You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you,” Shunsui commented, a fonder look on his face now that he wasn’t talking business. Ichigo shrugged.

“I was fifteen.” He kept his answers short, to the point. Regardless who he knew, or for how long, Ichigo would rather not be too trusting of Shunsui. The man ran a spy ring, after all. He had to be one of the most dangerous players in the game of life in Karakura Town. And Ichigo had been evading him for a while.

As if understanding his intentions, the older man chuckled and reached out. Ichigo tensed but didn’t move away as Shunsui ruffled his bright orange hair. “Keep your distance all you want, but I promise I’m not trying to recruit you again. Kisuke and Yoruichi both made it clear you’re not looking for a new boss. But I do have to say I miss seeing all you kids. You sure were a lively bunch whenever Kisuke brought you around.” Shunsui’s hand withdrew and Ichigo felt himself relax again.

“It’s your own fault you don’t see us,” Ichigo reminded the other man, giving him a cold glare. Shunsui blinked, eyes widening for a fraction of a second with surprise. Something flashed in his expression, but Ichigo didn’t quite catch it before Shunsui’s easy-going mask of a smile was back in place.

“Well,” he laughed, and it almost sounded genuine, “I suppose you’re right about that.” The limo pulled to a stop in front of his house. Ichigo hastily exited the vehicle, and just about slammed the door behind him, but Shunsui spoke again. “Wait. You’ve forgotten something.”

Ichigo turned around, mouth open to snap at the man, only to see him holding Ichigo’s phone, which he’d left on the seat next to him. Ichigo snapped his mouth shut and reached for the phone, but Shunsui snatched his hand back, a smile playing on his lips like it did when he used to tease the kids as he watched over them for Kisuke. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. He was in no mood to play this game.

“Give me my phone back, old man,” he grumbled.

“Ichigo?” a familiar voice called and Ichigo felt the blood drain from his face. He glanced to the side and, sure enough, there was Grimmjow, standing in his front yard in a pair of sweats and a tank top. He opened his mouth and shut it, no words coming out. Why the hell is he outside at this time of night? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This is why I requested the meeting time. What in the fuck?!

Seemingly realizing Ichigo was in a tough position, Shunsui decided to have mercy. He held the phone out again. Ichigo glanced at him and snatched the phone out of his hand. He gave the old man a glare, and Shunsui just smiled back at him as Ichigo slammed the door shut. The limousine pulled away. Ichigo took in a deep breath and turned around to face Grimmjow, only to find the blue-haired man standing right in front of him.

***

Grimmjow had been sleeping…not so well. Despite the announcement from Jinta two months ago, it felt less like Ichigo wanted to date him and more like he wanted to avoid him. It was weird. The other man always smiled and greeted him, but he’d seemed more and more tired and less and less enthusiastic. Maybe the kid read it wrong? Maybe Grimmjow read it wrong? Maybe they were all wrong and Ichigo was embarrassed and too polite to say so? He groaned and rubbed his hands on his face. He snuck a look at his bedside clock and groaned again. Two fourty-five? Fuck. Are you kidding me? Grimmjow scowled. His throat was dry now. With a sigh, he heaved himself up and out of bed, padding down to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was reaching for a glass when light flooded through the gaps in the curtains. Grimmjow paused and frowned. He abandoned his original objective to see who would be paused in front of his home at ass-o-clock in the morning.

He couldn’t quite see from the window, so he opened the front door and stepped outside. The car was long, a limousine, he could see now, in the light of the streetlamp and the headlights. It was parked in front of Ichigo’s house. Grimmjow waited as the door opened and a familiar figure stepped out. He squinted, but when the figure turned back toward the vehicle, he got a better look at their face.

“…Ichigo?” he called out. The figure started, and then Ichigo was meeting his gaze in the dim streetlight. He looked…afraid? There must have been a commotion from the limo, because Ichigo turned back to it, and reached in to grab something. Grimmjow frowned. His actions didn’t look natural or relaxed, but tense and on-guard. He started toward the limo, worried if he took his eyes off his neighbour for a second that he would be snatched back into the limo and disappear forever.

As if on a cue, right as he reached him Ichigo slammed the door shut and the limo sped away. Ichigo turned, as if expecting Grimmjow to be in his yard still. His wide-eyed expression told Grimmjow the other man hadn’t expected him to be right in front of him. Grimmjow stared at him. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Ichigo’s eyes were dark in the dim light, with a lighter ring of amber around the outside of the iris. After the initial startle response, his gaze slowly softened and Grimmjow could see a sadness in his eyes. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but stopped. Grimmjow gestured for Ichigo to continue.

Ichigo smiled at him gently. His face had a really warm glow in the soft streetlights now that the limo and its harsh lights were gone. “What are you doing out here so late?”

Grimmjow raised his eyebrows. “Could say the same to you.”

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and tore his gaze away. “Asked you first,” he mumbled. Grimmjow pursed his lips but decided not to argue the point of who looked more out-of-place right now.

He rolled his shoulders, hairs on his arms prickling in the cold. “Couldn’t sleep. Went to get water, and I saw the light from the limo. So I came out to see who was parked out here in the middle of the night,” he replied shortly. Ichigo nodded, eyes still not meeting Grimmjow’s. “Your turn.”

Ichigo swallowed. “I was. Working.”

Grimmjow folded his arms. “Really.”

Ichigo looked at him now, brown eyes pleading. “That’s as much as I can tell you. Please. I’m sorry.” Grimmjow searched his eyes, but he found no lies in them.

“…are you alright, at least? You didn’t look too happy talking to…whoever that was.”

Ichigo’s hesitation said it all. Grimmjow kept his gaze fixed on him, staring at him intently, as if he could pull the answer out of Ichigo with only his gaze. The other man lowered his gaze, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it and closed it again. Finally, he just shook his head. “No. Not really,” he whispered, voice sounding strained. Discomfort settled in Grimmjow’s chest and he felt the urge to reach out, to touch, comfort, console…but he resisted. Instead, he dropped his arms to his sides.

“C’m ‘ere,” he directed, turning slightly toward his own home. Ichigo looked up, confusion etched into his face. Grimmjow jerked his head toward his house. “Come sit inside. I ain’t gonna be able to sleep and you look too wound up right now. We can talk, or whatever.” Ichigo blinked. Then he gave a soft smile.

“Yeah, ok. That sounds good.” And he followed Grimmjow into the house.

[sorcererrezan]

golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef  rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin. 

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe. 

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart. 

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions. 

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique. 

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is. 

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for. 

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences. 

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care. 

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right? 

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid. 

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen. 

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath. 

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone. 

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless. 

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t. 

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue. 

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both? 

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does. 

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this. 

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.” 

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine. 

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it. 

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away. 

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to. 

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance. 

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas. 

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎