#he still came back and tried to pretend to be a new person asking to color my art

[drk-of-light]

Some dude has been stalking me and block evading me by making new accts on furaffinity for the past year and ive reported him SO MANY TIMES and nothing changes :/ always comes back within a few months. Im fucking exhausted man.

[multific]

Constellation

Wolf Yautja x Reader

Summary: You loved living alone in your cottage. You moved out to be alone for a reason, you hated people, and you wanted to be left alone. And you were alone until a certain pair of eyes started following you.

You saw the news on the TV.

Aliens.

And yet you ignored it.

You tried to live the life you wanted for so long as best as you could.

For as long as you could.

You still took care of your land, fed your animals and did your daily chores as usual.

You did see a couple of ships pass over your home but nothing more.

You have never seen an alien. Only on TV.

It appeared that they were fighting. 

Then the government decided to nuke the city to kill both aliens.

It looked like it was the end of it all.

But little did you know, for you, it was only the beginning. 

You had a feeling that you were being watched. 

The feeling not quite leaving you alone. You tried to look. You walked around your land, in the woods, nothing, no one. 

Could it be that you were becoming more and more paranoid? Could it be because of isolation?

You were imagining things.

Until one evening, when you heard noises inside your house.

Loud distinctive noises of someone walking around.

Fear struck you. 

You couldn't move out of bed. You just laid there, blankets up to your chin as you were shaking. Your heart beat out of your chest as the door to your room opened.

The person was huge, way too tall for a human, they had to dodge under the door to move in.

Then, came a clicking sound.

This is when you realized, this was no human.

There was a God damn alien in your home!

You knew you couldn't do anything. This thing could tear you apart in a matter of seconds.

You pretended to be asleep, hoping it would leave.

It watched you for a minute or two, which for you felt like an eternity before it left.

After the alien creature left, you rushed to see how it got in.

All doors and windows were locked from the inside. But you surely heard its footsteps moving into the woods next to your home.

You were utterly confused.

How did it get in?!

Why did it get in? What did it want?

It didn't take anything, it didn't hurt you, so what could it want?!

For the upcoming days, you didn't sleep.

The thing came every night, sometimes late in the night sometimes earlier. It just stood there and did nothing.

By the third time you were considering asking it what did it want. Or staying awake to see how it would react.

But you were too afraid.

Then two weeks later, as you were leaving your home, the skull of a deer with antlers was on your porch. It was placed there delicately, facing the door so you wouldn't miss it.

You were sure it was the alien.

Was this its sign to show you that it could kill you? You already knew that.

You took the skull and left it on your porch. You thought if you ignored it long enough, it would get tired and just leave you alone.

But it didn't.

The next day, another animal skull was placed on your steps. Looked to be a cat or a dog.

Then, something like a fox and finally, a wolf skull.

You began to have quite a collection. But you didn't understand. Was this thing trying to intimidate you?

It was working.

You just refused to leave because you spent your life building this place into a home.

But, was your life worth staying?

It showed that it could easily kill you.

But then why was it hiding?

Why did it already kill you and take what it wanted?

What did it want?

--- 2 months ago ---

Yautja prided themselves if they died during a fight.

It was the most honourable death they could ever ask for.

He fought many xenomorphs. One even left its scar on him. 

And yet, now as he was fighting, he survived.

He got back on his ship and left, but his ship got damaged and it broke down in the woods.

Wolf had to fix his ship so he could go back to Yautja Prime.

On his way to find some materials he could use he stumbled upon a farm, he knew some humans lived out in the wild in their houses, away from other humans.

He hid behind a tree and observed, trying to figure out if this human opposed any danger to him.

The first time he saw you was when you took care of your crops.

He concluded that you were nothing but a harmless little human.

And yet, for the next two weeks, he found himself watching you. He sat up on the tree and watched you all day and fixed his ship all night.

He walked around your crops, looking at everything.

To him, it was clear that you were a provider. Much like the females on his planet, you took care of food while the males hunted.

But you had no male. Which was quite interesting to him.

How come no male humans wanted you as their mate?

One night, he got brave and decided to go inside the house while you slept.

He checked your home and found nothing of interest besides you.

He watched as you slept.

He stood there for hours, watching you. 

You were so different from him, yet so similar. 

You preferred to be alone, much like him. 

You didn't have a mate, much like him.

He liked you. Which was extremely rare for him. During his life, he never looked for anyone like he did for you.

And so, he made his decision.

He will court you, win you and bring you back to his planet.

It was a simple plan for him.

And so, the first skull was placed on your doorstep.

You yawned as you got out of the bath, heading to the kitchen for some water before heading to bed, you stopped in your tracks.

It was here.

It was standing right in front of you. It was huge and grey and green and tall and... and you nearly fainted.

You knew you couldn't fight this thing. 

You had no chance against it.

It raised its hands and pulled its helmet off, revealing its face.

This alien looked a lot like the one you saw on the TV once.

The one that fought the other.

You noted the scar on its face as it made a clicking sound. It started to walk towards you, you backed up into the fridge. 

It raised its hand and placed a palm against your cheek. You looked into its eyes for the first time.

And somehow, you felt calm.

It made you calm down.

He made you calm down.

"What do you want?" you asked, hoping he would understand.

But he just made the same clicking sound as he did before. 

"Why did you leave the skulls?" you asked and he moved his hand to the armour on his wrist and pushed a couple of buttons.

"Gi-fts." said a very broken robotic voice.

"Why did you leave me gifts?" you watched as he pushed more buttons.

"Gifts for Mate." 

"Mate?" you asked and he nodded. Realization hit you and you realized, he was leaving you gifts so that he could court you. This must be an alien custom. "What are you?"

"Yautja."

"What's your name?"

"Wolf." the machine seemingly translated his name, but it was okay. "Your name?"

"My name is Y/N."

He nodded again.

"I want to take you to my planet. So we can marry." your eyes widened.

"Marry?"

"Strong female," he pointed at you, "Strong male." you would have assumed that he would have some issue having to marry you, wouldn't they only marry their own?

"Give me time. Two months. T-Then I will go with you." what were you saying? Why did you say that?! You didn't want to go! But you had no other options! This... Wolf clearly would get what he wants.

Maybe... those two months will be enough for you to get used to the thought.

Maybe those two months will be enough for you to grow some form of attachment. 

Maybe... hopefully.

For the next two months, he stayed with you in the house. 

The first week there was a lot of rain and storm so you were inside.

Most of the time you just kept looking at him or watched TV. He didn't speak, but he did notice the skulls you put up above your fireplace.

It filled him with pride, it meant you liked his presents.

That you accepted his courting.

For the upcoming days you cooked for both of you, since you weren't exactly sure what food he liked, you tried steak with potatoes. You can't go wrong with that.

And you didn't. He enjoyed it very much. Then the next day, he brought you cut meat, from where you were afraid to ask.

But you did cook everything that he brought to your home.

And he ate it all.

He still watched as you slept.

But instead of panicking, you found yourself enjoying having him there. He made you feel safe and you found that you wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him in the room. 

You woke up each and every morning more and more comfortable in his presence, which did make you worry.

Turned out, you didn't hate company, you hated human company.

Wolf being the big alien that he was tried his best to be careful around you. He followed you everywhere, he watched you and learned. 

He learned a lot about you from just watching you in the woods, but now, now he knew even more.

He saw the way you worked, how gentle and delicate you could be. But he also watched you chop up wood, showing that you can be strong when need be.

He liked it.

He was proud to pick such an amazing Mate.

It was the last day, two months had gone by and his ship was ready, he was ready.

He entered your house and found you in the kitchen, you looked out your window as if trying to memorize everything. But when you realized that he was behind you, you turned and smiled at him. A gesture he wished he could give back.

"I'm almost ready." you said with a heavy heart, but you were also ready to leave and be with Wolf, see where that path would take you.

And you felt ready for the adventure, it scared you but you felt ready.

You just wanted to remember this place.

You looked back out the window when he came up behind you, standing behind you, you felt his huge body but you didn't feel scared. 

It felt good.

He felt safe.

He was a good two heads taller than you.

You didn't say a word as you turned around and looked at him. You really looked at his scar and his eye. You knew he still could see with it, but his vision wasn't the best on that one.

You could also assume that one of his... mandibles was missing. It's place is still present.

You wished you could ask, you wished he could tell you. He lowered himself, allowing you to reach his face as you reached up and ran your fingers down his scars.

You wished you were there to help him, you could have eased his pain.

And, just like that, you were ready.

--- 3 years later ---

Yautja Prime was very different from Earth.

Yautja were very different from humans.

You learned that Wolf was quite the loner. His name fit him very well.

He preferred to be alone in his home, working on his ship or head on a mission for a hunt.

He liked being with you.

You two were very similar.

You didn't enjoy the company of others, but you enjoyed having the others around.

On your wedding night, Wolf told you how Yautja found their mates.

He also told you about true mates. Which is what you would call soulmates.

He explained how he felt as if you two were true mates and you didn't agree at the time, but now you did.

Spending your last three years with him, you can confidently say that you are in love with him.

You only feel complete when he is there.

And from what he told you, he felt the same. You wore the necklace he gifted you with pride.

And you waited for him every day when he was away on a hunt. He always came back victorious with many gifts.

He proved his worth to you as a male and a Mate.

And so, you never once regretted coming with him. Even if you were nervous in the beginning.

He made sure you had a warm bed, filled with furs.

Every night he came to the bed, he held you close to him, keeping your smaller body close and safe.

You slept with the confidence of having him there. Knowing he would protect you if anything was to happen.

Not like anything ever did.

You found yourself not missing your old life.

The view you spent so much time trying to memorize, long forgotten. 

All because of him.

You woke up every morning in his arms.

His body wasn't warm nor was it cold. But the feeling of his skin under your fingers always lets you know that he was there.

And you couldn't ask for more.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

[sailortongue]

Scandal

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: with the news of kenji's impending fatherhood -despite being unmarried- now public information, his PR team must come up with a way to salvage his reputation

wc: 1.5k

an: this is part 3!

navi | prev | series mlist

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

“Giants Player Kenji Sato Seen with Mystery Woman” was the headline that greeted you one fateful morning. You skimmed the article as quickly as you could, wincing when you saw that there were even pictures included to back up the story that Kenji was officially off the market. And not just taken, oh no—but a father-to-be. 

You immediately called Kenji, your heart pounding with the realization that your face had been shared with the public. He picked up the phone, his voice still groggy with sleep as he answered.

“Someone wrote an article about us,” you blurted out, not bothering with pleasantries. “There's pictures of us leaving the clinic, and it says an anonymous source came forward with information that we’re expecting a child. How did they find out so quickly? Did you tell anyone?”

Kenji blinked slowly on the other side of the phone, taking in the rush of information you had spewed at him first thing in the morning. “Uh, no. Haven’t even told my dad yet. You?”

You were about to deny having told anyone, but then you remembered. Ami. But she wouldn’t do that to you, right? “Ami knows.”

Kenji sucked in a breath through his teeth, grimacing. “Do you think she’d . . .” he trailed off, not wanting to make any outright accusations. He knew Ami personally, and that she was a good friend, but he also knew that scandals meant more money for reporters and that Ami has her own child to take care of. 

“I don't want to believe she would,” you started. “But I'm not sure how anyone else could have possibly found out so quickly.”

Kenji hummed. “You should talk to her today. Or I can, if you’d prefer?”

You sighed. “I'll do it. It’s just not going to be an easy conversation.”

“Call me with an update later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You ended your call with Kenji and wasted no time dialing Ami’s number, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you listened to the ringing. No answer. You tried again. And again.

 “Are you ok?” was the first thing she asked when she picked up. “It's not like you to call so many times.”

“Did you tell anyone about Kenji and me?”

She fumbled over her words for a moment, not expecting to be interrogated as soon as she answered your call. “Of course not. Has something happened?” she asked worriedly. You must have had a very good reason to sound so frantic. 

“There's an article,” you explained simply. “About Kenji and I. Are you sure you didn’t say something to anyone else? Even the smallest detail that might have been figured out?”

“Yn, I swear to you that I would never. I don't know how it got revealed so quickly, but I promise it wasn’t me.”

You sighed for the umpteenth time. “If not you then who?” You asked despondently, not truly expecting an answer from her but lamenting your misfortune all the same. 

“I don't know,” she answered softly, her voice laced with concern. 

Meanwhile, not even twenty minutes after you had called him, Kenji received yet another phone call. This time, it was his PR manager, Muramatsu. He groaned, knowing he was in for an earful. He answered the phone with all the false bravado he could muster, pretending he was none the wiser to the current state of his reputation. 

“Is it true‽” His manager demanded.

“Is what true?” Kenji asked, deciding to play stupid. 

“Did you or did you not get a girl pregnant?” 

“Straight to the point as always, Muramatsu,” Kenji chuckled, throwing off his covers when he decided to finally get out of bed since it seemed he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning. 

“I'm serious, Ken. We need to get in front of this ASAP. Your reputation is on the line which means so are your brand deals.”

Kenji paled. He hadn’t thought of that little consequence. “Look, it was an accident, ok.”

“Dammit, Ken! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”

“I was drunk! I didn't intend to do it, it just happened!”

Muramatsu was pinching the bridge of his nose in his office, wishing at this moment that he’d been hired by any other celebrity other than Ken Sato. “Is she a girlfriend we didn’t know about? Because we can work with that.”

Kenji remained silent, biting his lip while trying to think of a way to gently break the news that on top of accidentally knocking up a girl because he was drunk, she was also a woman he had never met prior to taking her home. “Picked her up at a bar,” Kenji mumbled. 

“What? Can you repeat that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“She was a random girl from the bar and I thought she was pretty and now she’s going to be the mother of my firstborn!” Kenji all but shouted into the phone, his stress levels rising rapidly as he paced the wooden floor of his bedroom. From the other side of the call he could hear something slam into Muramatsu’s desk, presumably his fist. 

“Give me the full story. Your team won the championship, you celebrated with drinks, you met this girl at the bar and took her home, yada yada. I know the first half now tell me the second.”

“Well, I got a call from a friend of mine. Turns out she’s a mutual friend of Yn—“

“Yn?”

“My . . . baby momma?” He clarified tentatively,hesitant to use the term. It was accurate, but friend wasn’t enough and girlfriend was too much. For now, anyway. 

His manager hummed, signaling for him to continue. “So Ami told me we need to meet immediately and I went to the cafe I suggested but it wasn’t Ami that met me it was Yn and that’s when I found out,” he said in a rush of words, not taking a single breath. 

His manager sat at his desk, stunned. “And the pictures?” He dared to ask. 

“We talked, and I told her I would be there every step of the way. Every appointment, every craving, every mood swing. All of it. I want to take responsibility and be a good dad to this baby.”

“Would she be open to pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Might not need to pretend at all. We have a date planned.”

“Good good,” his manager said. “And what if we took it a step further? If we present the two of you as a married couple, then it turns a scandal into regular celebrity gossip and your reputation—and your girl’s—is spared the judgment of having a child out of wedlock. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Kenji positively preened at hearing you referred to as his girl. He was so taken with the thought that he agreed to Muramatsu’s proposition without even bothering to ask what you thought of it. But it wasn’t like you had a boyfriend that would object, right?

“Great!” His manager said. “I'll talk with the team and we’ll have this sorted out by nightfall. Now, let’s backtrack. You said it was Ami that called you to meet. Ami Wakita? That reporter who interviewed you?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“So let me get this straight. You knock up a girl and one of the very first people to know is a reporter, and now suddenly there’s gossip rags talking about your promiscuity?”

“We’ll talk to Ami. She’s a friend to us both and I just can’t believe she’d actually cross both of us just for a story.”

“You’re gonna give me grey hair, kid,” his manager groaned. “We'll give her the benefit of the doubt for now, but find out if she’s the leak. We’ll talk later.”

It wasn’t until he heard the click of the call ending that it sunk in what he’d agreed to. He’d made a decision all on his own without consulting you that would deeply impact your life even more than it already had been. He sat on the edge of his bed and sunk his head into his hands, groaning at him having dug himself in an even deeper hole. In the last 48 hours, you two have gone from a hookup to eventual co-parents to make-believe spouses. How was he supposed to explain this to you?

The buzzing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. He checked the screen to see a message from you and swiftly unlocked his phone. 

yn: are you free later? ami wants the three of us to talk

yea, where at?

yn: her place for lunch? around noon?

sounds good. just got off the phone with my

PR manager. he’s working on damage

control but it will require some acting on

our part 

yn: ???

i’ll explain when i see you later

see you soon :)

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next

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@nuhteyam

[bluexiao]

#“is this… a love bite, darling?”

—you have a hickey… or is it really?

CHARACTERS. Al-Haitham, Ayato, Childe, Kaeya, Kazuha, Tighnari, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Xiao

THEMES. mostly crack, slightly suggestive, fluff (mentions of scenting on Tighnari’s but it’s for the laughs anyway); has a few curses here and there

NOTES. I’M BACK !!! haven’t written this much for… weeks? i think it’s been a month or two. i hope i did not rusted out but hey enjoy~ also, happy birthday ayato yay

XIAO knew very well that he had mostly been absent these days–actually, for most of the days. It is true, but he did try to give you as much time as he could whilst not overlooking his duty to Liyue.

This time, you tried to play a prank on him (well, you did miss him a lot), and it was a suggestion from your friend… yep, it is certainly not the boss of your Yaksha’s god who is probably now awaiting for the news of how your lover will react on that small mark on your neck.

“What is the meaning of this?” his voice looms over all of a sudden.

“Xiao!” You jump for a second, surprised at how fast he had gotten in the room when you had just barely uttered his name aloud. Your surprise strengthens even more as his spear falls to the side and he steps forward to your form, eyes trained on your neck, with a hand raising carefully-

“What… happened to your…” he trails off, raising his eyes to meet yours, “why are you hurt? Did… did someone do this to you?”

You could tell that he was this close to speed off to try and find anyone who could have possibly caused such a mark in your (delicate) skin—ah!

“N-no, I mean… I just…” you bit your lip, I just scratched it… a bit too much, I suppose,” you then took his raised hand (that was too fearful to even touch you), and smiled gently his way. “Don’t worry about it too much, love.”

The tension on his shoulders ease up, but you could tell he was still worried with the frown on his lips and the concern in his eyes.

“I see… should I ask for an ointment? Yes, I probably should… I’ll be back in a moment.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

The WANDERER’s eyes immediately zero into your neck.

Was he forgetting something?

Did something happen last night??

Did he perhaps accidentally do something that-

“Hey, what’s on your mind, love?” you’d try to get him to spit it out-but nope, he wouldn’t say a single thing about it.

You’d probably think he was all jealous and shit, but this prick actually misunderstood it!

“No, it’s nothing,” he hurriedly dismisses you, looking away with a small blush on his cheeks, “it’s just… do you not have a scarf?! It’s cold nowadays. Can’t have you sneezing right in front of my face.”

He immediately tries to get a hold of a scarf—no matter whose it is.

“But it’s not cold in Sumeru at all!”

“Oh, is it? Then still wear it. The sun might damage your skin, can't have you complaining about it.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

TIGHNARI, for one, is naturally someone who does not shy away when words need to be said. A very straightforward one, you need not be told as you already knew very much. So when the time came that you suddenly had a mark on your neck (that you did not know where it came from) and it looks very much like a love bite that someone would give to a person they like, he was already by your side in a heartbeat.

“Hm, I do not think I quite recall giving such a mark on you, darling,” he’d whisper next to your ear as he so nonchalantly brushes away the piece of clothing that tried to hide the mark—but it wasn’t enough, it appears… or so you made it to be.

“Nari, I-”

“Huh? What was that?” He’d cut you off purposefully, an arm around your waist. And all of a sudden, he was all over you, probably scenting you like a madman until he realizes it was all fake and he’d pretend nothing happened in the past few minutes when everyone and you saw how he reacted not too long ago.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA is a sly little piece of shit. He does not ask you anything about it until he gets close enough to examine them. Would very much know what you would think before you could even think about it (sometimes he has his friend, the wind, tell him about it, what a weirdo right), and he would call you out in a way that would not be too direct, sometimes, it would even take you a while to realize that he was trying to communicate to you something and he would just be very patient about it.

“Dove, I think you have something on your neck,” he’d probably say, and you’d stiffen as you thought he caught on to your act… but he’d just flash you a sweet smile as he raises… a leaf.

A fucking leaf.

Where in Teyvat did that even come from?!

“I suppose even nature loves the feeling of your skin, my love.”

Nope! He definitely has you all figured out and is just trying to make your skin crawl… well, two can play the game, right?

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAEYA would know what a love bite would look like, especially when it’s from him and on you.

And this one on you? Well, it doesn’t even look like a hickey.

Ah, he would think, he gets it now.

One look was all it took for him to find out, and one look was all it took for you to find out what was in his mind as well. With this, you would begin to think of ways to try and not let him get you alone, but you soon realized that even if you two were with friends or in a public setting, this man would not stop at anything… to tease you back.

“What is it, dear? Don’t tell me… you’re giving up now, are you? Come on, you have my whole attention. What is it that you want from me?”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CHILDE would also very much know what his hickey looks like—and this one is definitely not his!

Actually, he did not even notice just how much you botched this fake hickey because he was already marching his way toward you.

“Babe, you’re coming with me,” he thought he was smooth as he ushered you out of the Bank, his subordinates following your forms before whispering about the mark on your neck once you two were out of reach.

Oh, how many people you fooled that day.

“What is the meaning of thi—” he immediately stops on his tracks as he finally realizes once he was this close to you and once he had focused on how it doesn’t really look like a love bite at all and how idiotic he probably looks and sounds right now.

Your laugh suddenly resonates through the walls of his office, even playfully slapping his shoulder as he purses his lips into a pout and narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I won this time, babe, sorry not sorry,” you flash him a grin and he could not help but melt at how angelic you look right now despite the looming defeat he had.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AYATO was quite certain of his absence. It cannot be blamed on the nature of his position and his work, however, it was still irresponsible of him to neglect his lover. And thus, he was actually in the middle of a plan for his surprise for you a few days from now–to at least make it up for the lost time due to the work he had taken over these past few days.

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Surely that mark on your neck, just a few inches below your jaw is not a love bite… right? He was fairly sure that he had been away for the past nights prior to tonight, so…

“My dear, do you not feel like your neck feels lonely these days?” he’d ask in a smooth voice, then pulling out a box behind him, revealing a gift that encased a gorgeous necklace that you were pretty sure cost a lot.

You failed to answer or say anything at all, baffled at how easily he had gotten you speechless and to forget about the prank you had set up for him–wait, has he not seen it yet? You’d question yourself, surely, he could have, right?

“So, would you like to explain to me why there is a fake love bite on your skin? Darling? Perhaps you’d like to see what a real one looks like.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AL-HAITHAM is another self-aware man, at least, that’s what he thinks he is. If you had been with him for a long time or at the very least knew him as much, you would know just how much of a lie that is. After all, Al-Haitham is a very dense guy. He may be aware that he had been busy the past few days, but his thoughts do not wander toward how you might feel because of this.

“Is there… something I am missing?”

He asks with a tilt of his head to the side, probably looking at you up and down and… something just seems… odd.

“What?” You raised a brow as you felt your face heat up—did he see it? Questions rose to your mind as you can’t help but also feel embarrassed with what you’re doing right now.

He doesn’t notice it!?!

“Ugh, never mind!” You walk out of the room, and unbeknownst to you, he is mumbling on his own before he settles his eyes on his book once more.

“That mark… did I make that?”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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[januaryembrs]

tea!! anything bugsy and spencer

the one with the surfboard | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

description: there's only one person who could ever get Spencer Reid in the ocean and that's Bugsy

length: 1.6k

warnings: mention of sex, swearing, Penelope and Reid being thirsty for Morgan and bugsy. Pen calls Derek chocolate thunder but this is nothing new! set at beginning of season six.

part of the trouble almost all my life universe

Spencer settled his feet into the warm sand, trying his hardest to make sure the grain didn’t stick to the thick layer of suncream he’d applied not even five minute earlier, his sunglasses hanging on his nose as he watched Morgan and Bugsy hit a ball to one another over an invisible volleyball net. 

“You not going to take a swim, pretty boy?” Emily asked, basking on her back in a red bikini, soaking up the sun they rarely got so clearly stuck in their office. His face scrunched up, shaking his head until he remembered Emily had her eyes closed, and it only took one look at where JJ was laying incredibly still to know she’d already dozed off on the sun lounger. 

“One litre of ocean water has about one billion microbes of bacteria and around ten billion viruses, so,” He shuddered, his lithe fingers gripping the arms of the chair as he tried not to think about every single one of them entering his mouth if he were to even get close enough it could spray on his face, “No thankyou,” 

“Not even if Bugsy asked you?” Penelope pointed out, a sex on the beach she’d ordered with a giggle and a ‘if Morgan gets lucky.’

His lips twitched, feeling his neck grow hot in a way he told himself was just the sun, and he glanced at the technical analyst with something fleeting, “She did ask me, I told her the exact same thing I’m telling you guys,”

“And?” Emily asked, sensing that hadn’t been the end of the conversation because her sister knew exactly how to get her way when it came to men, Spencer specifically. 

Rubbing under his nose with his knuckle, Spencer downcast his eyes to the beer Bug had handed him, sand sticking to the green, frosted glass as the liquid bubbled freshly inside the bottle, “She said I owed her an hour of fun,”

Penelope’s face lit up at the innuendo of it, nudging him lightly with her shoulder, “Hell yeah, you’re such a stud, Reid. An hour?” 

Emily winced in grotesque, “That’s my sister you’re talking about there, Pen. A sister is very much present here,” 

The blonde shrugged, sipping through her pineapple decorated straw, “Not my fault you have a hot sister, Prentiss,” 

“Can we stop talking about this? Please?” Spencer floundered, his fingers wrapping over the edge of the seat, his jaw tensing as the words hot, hot, hot, smeared all over his brain like a stamp. And everything he’d tried to deny for months bit at his neck so much so he was quickly fiddling with his shirt collar. 

“Agreed,” Emily seconded, taking a long drink of her mojito, and Penelope saw it as a chance to lean in close to him, a smirk on her clementine scented lips.

“Don’t you think watching the two of them play together is like something out of Baywatch,” She murmured, her eyes locking on the two agents that seemed to be on their longest streak yet judging by all the laughing and shouting going on in between hits. 

Spencer had never tuned into Baywatch, nor did he have any intention of doing so. But he did have to admit that watching Bugsy jump around in the ocean, her hair clasped back in a claw clip away from her face, her skin practically glowing from the vitamin D both on her face and on her obscenely beautiful body that was free to see in those bikini shorts and mini top, was more captivating than any tv show he could imagine.

He swallowed, shaking his head, “I think you spend too much time with Derek,”

Penelope held her chest in mock offence, her glass empty in her hand as she looked at him with teasing eyes, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Reid. There’s no such thing as too much chocolate thunder time.” 

Spencer smirked, chuckling to himself and he barely even noticed the two people that were the hot topic of conversation had left the sea until a plastic, bouncy ball went hurtling at Emily’s forehead and rebounded clear off her hairline. 

“FUCK,” The woman cursed, opening her eyes where a few rogue droplets of sea water dribbled down her cheek, her peace and serenity completely wiped away where her little sister stood with a hidden smirk, Derek biting his knuckle to hide his laugh, “You fucker, what was that for?”

“Just making sure you hadn’t cooked alive, you looked very still,” Bugsy held her hands up in innocence, even though Emily stood with a vengeance, rolling her eyes at the cheeky grin she got back. 

Emily muttered something about her being a childish shrew, before she huffed, shoving past her sister and heading towards the beachfront bar, Derek and Penelope in tow. Which left the two of them, and a sleeping JJ, on their tiny corner of the beach. 

“You sure you don’t want to come in?” Bugsy asked, trails of salt water sliding off her hair and down her stomach, the sight of them making Spencer’s mouth dryer than the sand beneath them, “I saw a jellyfish, or at least I think it was, it may have been a condom,” Spencer gagged inside his mouth with an incredulous look on his face, and she chuckled, dropping the ball to his feet, “Relax, I’m kidding. I’m going back in if you want to join, promise I won’t splash you or nothing,” 

“I’m good, you go have fun with your new pal; the condom,” He said with a grossed out pull of his lips, though he smiled when she did and she grabbed the surfboard stuck in the ground beside him, trotting off back towards the ocean, “Remember to reapply soon!” He called, and she flicked a look over her shoulder.

“You're as bad as Emily,” She yelled back, taking off towards the waves with a chuckle, the sea breeze blowing tiny shrapnels of sand against her calves.

Spencer shamefully felt his eyes drop to her butt, and as fast as he did, he looked away, because that was supposed to be his best friend. She’d certainly never made it seem like they were going to be anything else. Perverts watched pretty girls running, perverts watched how their skin lit up with the rays of lights bouncing off the water and their hips swung with every step, and he wasn’t a pervert. 

He was just… human. And who could ever resist her. 

He watched the sea spraying out beneath her feet as she ran right in, and she waded out deep enough that he lost sight of her stomach, the board skirting the surface of the water for a moment. 

She was possibly the coolest person he’d ever met, and she was his best friend. 

He watched her hop up onto her stomach, keeping an eye on the horizon for a big enough wave rolling in. Deciding on an incoming ripple gradually gaining traction, she paddled out towards it, her arms strong and focused from what he could see where he was sat, nursing his bottle of beer. 

“Baby Prentiss got moves,” Morgan whistled as they returned back with drinks cold enough Spencer saw the condensation gathering on the glass already, though that was the only time he actually tore his eyes away from her as she got further away from the safety of land, the black band attaching her ankle to the board the only thing he could really see of her. 

“She talked some bar boy into teaching her the Summer she spent in Mexico with my mom,” Emily shook her head as they watched her jump up into a steady stand, the rip gathering under her surfboard and soon she was floating over the water, the concentration evident on her face as she held her arms out to balance. 

She went a few more times, the group settling into the quiet they had whenever she was busy, because she was not exactly known for her calm nature, yet Spencer’s eyes were the only ones glued to her figure the entire time, ever the worrier when it came to her daredevil side. 

And it was like he was watching it in slow motion; on her fifth turn riding a particularly quick rip her balance got thrown off. Nothing serious, it was only a few ten yards out offshore, and she was a strong swimmer, he’d seen it. She quickly lowered herself back into a straddled sit, only for the wave to gain traction before it fizzled out, crashing into the side of her board right as she was about to take a breath, and he watched her flip sidewards into the water, the tide bringing her close enough he knew she’d be able to stand.

But she didn’t come up for a few moments, and it was enough that Spencer was out of his seat, taking off jogging towards the ocean, every statistic that had been whizzing through that big brain of his about how filthy the water was suddenly evaporating as he watched her throw a hand up to the surface, her board skirting above her being the only pointer for him where to go. 

By the time he made it over to her, he was knee deep before he thought of the consequences, the cold hitting him like a freight train, and she was already dragging herself towards land on her hands and knees, her hair stuck to her face, her claw clip ripped out by the current.

“Are you okay?” He asked, but she didn’t respond, only to cough up sea water with a screwed up expression that told him just how horrible it tasted. 

“I need a beer,” She wheezed, as he lifted his hands under her arms, tugging her to her feet, his entire torso getting drenched as she clung onto him for safety, still spluttering ocean out of her lungs. 

And he shook his head with a smile, brushing her hair back enough for her to see, her eyes sore and red with angry blood vessels where he imagined it stung to get the salty water in them, and all but dragged her back up the rest of the beach where Derek and Emily were laughing at her fail so hard they’d woken JJ up. 

“Yasmine Bleeth never ate seawater, Bug, what happened?” Morgan jeered, earning him a middle finger to the face as Penelope offered her a nice big gulp of a margarita to clear her taste buds. 

And for the first time all day, Spencer wasn’t even thinking about how much bacteria was all over his skin if it meant she was alright.

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch7

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5, Ch6

Warning: MINORS DNI, sexual thoughts, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

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

The lobby was filled with loud chatter as the morning crew was heading out for lunch. The chatter soon came to a silence once the main doors opened. The loud clicking of heels took over the lobby as everyone remained focus on the individual who entered the building.

"A little birdy told me Lyla was on vacation." The person spoke, their lips curled into a smile.

"Yes, ma'am; however, Miguel already has a new secretary."

"So I've heard. I'll be heading up-"

"Sorry, but you can't. Miguel gave us strict orders to not allow you past the lobby. I'm sorry, but you must leave." The receptionist warned the woman.

"Tch, what a bother. Very well, I'll just have to bump into him or that little mouse."

As fast as the woman entered, she left. Soon, whispers filled the lobby as everyone assumed that you were in deep shit. No one but Lyla had survived that snake.

At least you lasted two weeks on your own.

---------

This was driving you crazy. Ever since that incident in the elevator, Miguel had been really handsy with you. The man oozed sex appeal and he was using every last drop of it to torment you. There had been times where you wanted to kiss him, but you couldn't.

He was your boss!

No matter how many times his hand stroked your cheek. No matter how long his hands stayed against yours. No matter how tender his grip was against your waist. No matter how close his sweet whispers were to your ear...

You couldn't.

Miguel was giving you so many mixed signals. His kind personality often confused you with his loving tone, but then...Miguel would get strict and push you away. He was so confusing and you just wanted answers. You wanted to know if it was okay for you to have these feelings for him.

"Sir, are you ready for your next appointment?" You asked, entering Miguel's office.

"I suppose. It's only going to be another fruitless venture of trying to get me to invest in a stupid plan. I don't suppose you have a way for me to avoid such troublesome idiots?" Miguel asked with a soft chuckle.

"Hm..." You pushed your lips forward as you thought, "You really shouldn't, but what if we pretended an emergency came up for your Fall Banquet?"

"Tempting."

Miguel approached you with a smile, his hand resting on your back as he led you out. You could melt against him if he let you.

"Oh, Miguel, you're tie."

You noticed his crooked tie and proceeded to fix it. As you did, you could feel your heart racing as Miguel stared at you. His hands resting against yours before bringing them to his lips. You could feel your heart in your throat.

"Aren't I lucky to have you, hm?" His voice was low.

"Ah-"

You squeaked as you tried to take a step back, but ended up tripping over your heel. You gasped as you nearly fell back, but Miguel had managed to catch you in time.

"S-Sorry-ah!" You whimpered as you tried to stand.

"Well now, I suppose this works too."

Gasping softly, you wrapped your arms around Miguel's neck as he picked you up. Your face was probably a million shades of red as he carried you out of the office.

"M-Miguel-Sir!"

"Now, now. Can't have my precious secretary injured on the job. Let me take you to first aid."

You whimpered only in protest, but proceeded to cover your face. This was embarrassing, but you couldn't help but smile. Miguel was far too good for a clumsy one like yourself.

--------

Miguel was impressed by his own self control. After almost kissing you in the elevator, Miguel had to hold back greatly. That still didn't stop him from touching you. Oh, how he wished for more. How he dreamt for more.

But this was enough.

Taking you to the first aid floor, Miguel was concerned for your ankle. He found you adorable whenever you would get clumsy. It wasn't like you did it on purpose, but it was so amusing. Sometimes Miguel wanted to get you riled up just so he can watch you.

A sadist sometimes, but that was just Miguel. As he stepped off the elevator, Miguel glanced down at you. Hard working as always. You were in the middle of sending an apology message to his greedy business partner for missing the meeting.

"There....hopefully they will understand." You whispered. Miguel nodded towards the nurse as he placed you down on a bed,

"Understanding or not, they have no choice. It's my business they want, so they have to wait."

"Dumb question...But where does Alchemax stand...in the business world?"

Miguel glanced up at your innocent gaze. No matter how many times you asked, Miguel loved how naïve you were. He loved the fact that you still had no care for his status as a CEO, or that of his business. You just came to do your job.

"On top of the world," Miguel hummed.

He took your heel off, chuckling towards your complaints. The nurse was busy doing other stuff, so Miguel had to take care of you. Who else would he trust with someone as precious as you?

"Ah-" You whimpered in pain as Miguel pressed against your ankle.

"Swollen, but not broken. My dear (Y/N), you must be more careful alone. Be clumsy when I'm around, alright?"

"I-I was," You stuttered in embarrassment.

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he started to massage your ankle. You could only whimper in pain as he did so. Listening to your little whimpers made Miguel's mind wander. He leaned closer to you, kissing your ankle.

"M-Mig-" You covered your mouth as your heard the nurse talk to another patient.

Miguel's gaze focused on your expression. How seductive you were as you covered your mouth while your face burned red. His kisses trailing up from your ankle to your inner thigh. It was hard for him to focus as you trembled against his touch.

Stroking his hand against your thigh, Miguel resisted a groan as he felt up your skirt ever so slightly. You laid back against the bed, closing your eyes as you withheld your whines.

Letting his dick do all the talking, Miguel climbed over you. His hands still against your thighs as he trailed his kisses against your neck this time. You moved your head to the side, shaking slightly.

"You're letting me be selfish again," Miguel whispered against your ear, "It's so hard...to hold back."

"I-I....I did....say that you could," You whimpered softly. Miguel groaned lowly,

"(Y/N)"

"Alright, next I believe I saw our CEO," The nurse spoke.

Miguel immediately got off you and sat beside the bed. He fixed his suit as the nurse opened the curtain, her head still glued to the clipboard. You quickly sat up, trying to cover your flustered expression.

"A-Actually....I may have...sprained my ankle," You said shyly.

"No worries. Let me take a look."

Miguel started to tune out as the nurse took care of you. His attention was focused on your lips. You didn't care about his status or anything, but yet you let him have his way with you. It was a no brainer that you liked him.

Hell, Miguel was falling hard for you, but even he knew that this was wrong. Miguel was taking advantage of you. He needed to stop, but at the same time, he wanted you. Miguel could see you at his side as a partner and maybe even a wife.

"Let me get an ice pack, I'll be right back." The nurse spoke before leaving.

"(Y/N), be my date for the Fall Banquet." Miguel spoke calmly, as if he wasn't about to fuck you a second ago.

"Huh? Are you sure?" You questioned. Miguel just smiled,

"No doubt in my mind would I love to have you by my side."

--------

Oh, his words were making you melt. How could you not share feelings with this god of a man. Perchance, this would be a good opportunity to try and kiss him? Miguel was no stranger to sharing his desires...maybe you should be brave and do so too?

"I-I would love too, then." You chirped. Miguel stood and kissed your hand,

"Then I believe we should start dress shopping. Can't have my date being outshined by anyone else."

"You...You don't have too!" Miguel was making your heart race again.

"I'm a selfish man, you know this by now. Don't you want my eyes only on you?"

Your eyes widen as you looked into Miguel's gaze. Your breathing shuddered as you bit your lower lip.

"Yes."

"Then it's settled. We shall go dress shopping as soon as your ankle heals."

"Hehe, thank you sir."

---------

"If Miguel won't see me, then I'll have to approach him. No one deserves the Fall Crown but me."

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

Hehe, slow burn gonna eat ya'll alive.

Gonna be on a one month hiatus outta state! See you all soon!

Next Chapter

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[lumberrobot]

Floral Sentiments

pham hanni x fem!reader

notes: found this random prompt on this site so might as well try to write something with it 'cause I was too lazy to think of an actual plot oiaiwdiwd (adv happy birthday hanni :DD)

warning/s: first post wapondiwnf

genre: fluff

prompt: person a owns a flower shop and person b comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “how do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Hanni was used to quiet mornings in her flower shop. The soft hum of the shop's speakers, mingling with the subtle fragrance of fresh blooms, always put her at ease. Sipping her tea, she glanced at her to-do list—rearranging vases, watering the orchids—nothing out of the ordinary. She figured it would be a slow day. No major holidays loomed on the horizon, aside from those quirky ones no one really celebrated. Who the hell buys flowers for No Pants Day?

Mid-rearranging a vase of sunflowers, their golden petals glowing like tiny suns, the familiar chime of the doorbell broke her tranquility. She turned to see a girl, about her age, standing by the counter. Dark eyes, arms crossed, a scowl softening as she took in the shop’s surroundings. Hanni removed her gloves and walked over, curiosity piqued.

The girl slapped a $20 bill on the counter without so much as a greeting. “How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flowers?”

Hanni blinked. Did I hear that right? She tilted her head slightly, unsure how to respond.

"Uh, excuse me, what?" Hanni asked, her voice tentative. She tried not to stare, but the girl's unexpected beauty and intensity threw her off balance.

“Did I stutter?” the girl snapped, though the sharpness in her voice softened. Her shoulders relaxed, and a small, awkward smile crept across her lips. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

Hanni let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “No worries,” she said, grinning. “Just... I’ve never had that kind of request before.”

The girl chuckled, her posture loosening even more. "Yeah, I figured. Thanks for not kicking me out. I’m Y/N, by the way."

“Hanni” she replied, still amused by the oddness of it all.

Y/N nodded, then sighed, frustration flickering across her face. “Long story, trust me.”

“Well,” Hanni said, glancing around the empty shop, “lucky for you, I’ve got all day.”

She gestured for Y/N to take a seat, and the girl hesitated before pulling out a chair from the corner of the small shop. As Y/N settled down, Hanni caught a glimpse of the tension in her face—something deeper than just the initial shock value of the request.

“So,” Hanni began, “what’s the story behind the flower-inspired ‘fuck you’?”

Y/N leaned back, exhaling as if she were about to confess a deep secret. She stared at a bouquet nearby, eyes narrowing. “So, there’s this guy…”

Hanni raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, letting Y/N explain. Flower shop drama wasn’t new to her, but Y/N didn’t seem like the type to send a bouquet for a simple apology.

“He’s my co-worker. Always making these little comments—like, pretending to compliment me but really putting me down,” Y/N muttered, frustration clear in her voice.

“Backhanded compliments,” Hanni said knowingly.

“Exactly. So, I want to give him something subtle that says, ‘I’m not as dumb as you think I am, and you should really watch yourself.’” Y/N smirked, her intensity returning.

Hanni’s eyes lit up with a playful glint. “Oh, I can work with that.”

She moved around the shop, scanning the flowers and tapping her chin in thought. A few minutes later, she started rearranging various blooms, carefully crafting a combination that would carry the perfect passive-aggressive undertone. Y/N watched as Hanni worked, her frown melting into curiosity.

The bouquet slowly took shape, flowers layered in ways that would seem beautiful at first glance but carried hidden messages for those who knew what to look for. Hanni worked in silence, fully focused, occasionally glancing up to see if Y/N approved. Y/N, for her part, seemed content to let Hanni work her magic.

After what felt like a short eternity, Hanni stepped back, admiring her creation. “There you go,” she said, giving a small, satisfied smile. “This should get your message across.”

Y/N inspected the bouquet with a satisfied smile. “This is perfect. Thanks, Hanni.”

As she reached for her bag, she paused, as if considering something. “Hey, one more thing…”

Hanni, still basking in the satisfaction of crafting such an unusual bouquet, looked up. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, an almost shy look crossing her face. “If I wanted to, you know, take someone out on a date… What kind of flowers should I get?”

The question caught Hanni off guard. A small, inexplicable pang of disappointment bloomed in her chest. She forced a smile, her thoughts racing. So she likes someone already?

“Oh, well… I’d say something simple, elegant. Something that shows interest but not too over the top. Maybe…” She trailed off, resisting the urge to let her emotions show. After a brief pause, Hanni quickly pulled together a response that was vague but safe. “Something that makes a good impression, but leaves room for more.”

Y/N smiled, clearly liking the idea. “Got it. Thanks again, Hanni.”

With that, Y/N turned and left, bouquet in hand, the bell above the door chiming softly as she disappeared into the street.

Hanni stood there, watching her leave, a strange heaviness settling in her chest. She shook her head, trying to brush off the disappointment. It was silly.

Y/N was just another customer… right?

=========

The next day, Hanni arrived at her shop early, her thoughts still swirling with the remnants of her encounter with Y/N. As she approached the door, ready to unlock it, something caught her eye.

On the doorstep lay a beautiful bouquet, a gorgeous arrangement—simple, elegant, just like she had described, wrapped delicately in brown paper and tied with twine. A note was tucked among the flowers, and Hanni’s heart raced as she crouched down to pick it up.

Opening the note, she read:

“For you. Hope you like them. - Y/N”

Below the message, Y/N’s number was written neatly in her familiar handwriting. Hanni stared at the flowers, a warm smile spread across her face as she took in the arrangement. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what had just happened.

As she finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over the flowers. She placed the bouquet on the counter, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest.

Maybe Y/N wasn’t just another customer after all.

[slut4thebroken]

Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator hcs

Tommy Shelby, Cillian Murphy, Raymond Leon, Jackson Rippner, Lenny Miller

(All accurate to the universe’s time period)

Tommy Shelby - To say he was shocked would be an understatement. At first he was concerned— were you suffering from hysteria and he didn’t even know? But then he remembered that vibrators have very recently started being used for more… personal activities. He confronted you about it anyway though. You blushed and stuttered out “I- I can explain..” and he found it amusing at first, but he kept his expression stern. It was when you broke down crying that he suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad..” You cried out, making him pull you into a hug and shush you, trying to calm you down. “I’m not mad, love.” He said gently. “Just… tell me what it’s for.. I promise I won’t be mad.” You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes to see if he was being truthful. When you found no sign of a lie, you whispered that you use it for self pleasure, which he already knew. He just wanted to hear you say it. He sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re old enough to be playing with adult toys like this?” He asked, and you muttered out an excuse of how you just turned 18. “Maybe so, but I still don’t think it’s appropriate at your age.” That triggered something inside of you and you whined about how you’re an adult and you can do what you want, acting far too bratty for his liking. “Is that so? An adult, are you?” He had a condescending smirk on his lips and he pretended to think it over, then scoffed a laugh. “Fine then. If you’re an adult I guess I should start punishing you like one.” His tone was noticeably darker now. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Cillian Murphy - He knew he should’ve ignored it, respected your privacy… But he just kept thinking about you using it. The pretty sounds you probably made, the way your cheeks probably became flushed… But then he started thinking about you using it with someone.. Did you have a secret boyfriend? Or were you exploring your sexuality all on your own… Deciding to do the responsible thing, he started planning out when and how to talk to you about all of these new things you may be feeling as a developing young woman. One day he sat down with you, gently told you what he knew and reassured you when you immediately became embarrassed. He told you that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed of… “A young girl like yourself needs someone to guide her, teach her what’s right and how to be safe.” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “As your father, I’m afraid that role falls on me.” He tried not to seem too excited by the idea. Standing up, he walked over to where the toy was hidden and brought it back over to the bed, handing it to you. “I need to make sure you’re using it the right way. I’d hate for my little girl to get hurt.” He frowned, watching as your eyes widened. He didn’t let you protest as he helped removed your clothes and laid you down on the bed. “Now show me exactly how you’re using it, sweetheart.”

Raymond Leon - At first, he almost mistook it for something else, but when he did a double take, he realized what it actually was. A rush of emotions hit him, the main ones being anger, disappointment, and arousal. Were you turning into a whore? Did he do something wrong when raising you? When you came home one day, he was waiting on your bed, the vibrator next to him. You were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment and humiliation- good. You started trying to defend yourself, saying it’s not what it looks like. “Don’t try to play innocent.” He scoffed. “Get over my fucking lap.” His voice was so harsh, it made you tear up as you begged him not to. So he roughly grabbed you and pulled you over his thighs, then flipped your skirt up. He spanked you until his hand was burning and there were little welts on your ass. You were sobbing loudly, the pain becoming too much, and with the way you kept squirming and rubbing against his cock, he eventually got hard. He forced the vibrator between your legs, making you apologize for your whorish behavior as you came over and over again until he was satisfied. “Get on your knees.” He demanded and you slid off his lap to the floor, still sobbing and almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. “There are consequences for acting like a whore.” He spat, quickly opening his pants to free his cock, making your breath catch in your throat. “So, be a good girl for once and finish what you started.”

Jackson Rippner - He had been trying so hard to be a good father figure- god knows you desperately needed it. But as soon as he found a vibrator hidden away (very poorly) in one of your drawers, he just lost all control. He managed to wait a few days until it was only the two of you in the house, then confronted you. This wasn’t his proudest moment… but he didn’t regret it. “What would your mom think, huh?” He asked, subtly threatening you. “I would hate to have to tell her… but maybe we can work something out.” He said coyly, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed and pouted. He made you beg for it, for his cock and for him to not tell your mom. Once he had you underneath him with his cock fully sheathed in your little cunt, he practically plowed into you until you cried. “This is your own fault.” He hissed. “The only reason this is happening is because you teased me by leaving it somewhere for me to find.” You sobbed harder and shook your head, unable to do anything else to protest. “You’ve been a fucking tease since day one with those tiny little shirts and the skirts that barely cover your ass… I’m fucking sick of it.” He growled, getting more worked up. “From now on, you’re gonna let me use this cunt whenever I want, or I’ll tell your mom about your little secret, and how you seduced me and begged me to fuck you.”

Lenny Miller - You should’ve known better than to think you could hide things from him. Just like you should’ve known better than to think you could lie to him. But when he confronted you, you denied it. Which he figured you might do… That’s why he set up a camera in your room, hidden in a vent but angled perfectly at your bed. The quality was not the best, but it was good enough to still obviously show what you were doing. He can’t even count the amount of times he came to that footage of you. When you tried lying, he sighed and reached for the remote, already having the tape ready in the tv. The second it turned on, you lips parted in shock and your face paled, then a very dark blush took over your cheeks. “There are a few different ways this can go. Option one: the camera stays up and you can keep the vibrator. Option two: I punish you, then confiscate it, but I’ll take down the camera.” He paused, lowering his voice into something darker and thick with arousal. “Or option three: you show me just how sorry you are for owning something like this. I’m still going to punish you, but if you do a good enough job begging, I might just let you keep it.” He said coyly. He waited impatiently for you to choose and when you couldn’t get any words out, still glancing at the tv, he chose for you. He spanked you until you cried and made you suck his cock to prove you were sorry, then forced you to ride him while you begged for his forgiveness.

[nathaslosthershit]

Stupidly Charming (CL16) [AoM Part 2]

Part 1: Audacity of Man Summary: Charles was never anything but a compassionate and wonderfully loving boyfriend. You always used to brag about how attentive he was... I guess this is karma?

You had tried to distract yourself, not get angry or upset over the fact that Charles had most likely forgotten your anniversary.

It was still early in the day, he could surprise you, or make up for the fact he forgot.

But hours went by of radio silence from the Ferrari driver. You couldn’t really blame him, even if he remembered your anniversary, you knew he wouldn’t be able to drop everything at work to text or call you.

Still you had hoped for something. 

“Fuck him! What an idiotic asshole, especially after you made him breakfast.” Your friend said as you caught her up on the situation. “Get upset! Get angry! If the second he gets home he isn’t on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, be the biggest bitch to him you have ever been.”

“That seems extreme…”

“Fuck extreme, fuck him! Get angry, fight, and then have the best makeup sex of your life.”

That you could do.

“Honey! Oh how I missed you” Charles said as he opened the door and saw you on the couch, pretending to read a book you had given up on actually paying attention to a while ago. You were still too upset.

You didn’t answer him. You even scoffed as he didn’t seem to recognize your silent treatment, just planting a kiss on your cheek and going to change.

What an asshole.

“Did you think about what you wanted for dinner?” He asked as he returned.

Again, silence.

“I was hoping to try out that new place that opened up down the street, heard it has amazing desserts.” 

Still nothing. 

“Baby? Did you hear me?”

…

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you. A look of realization appeared on his face as he saw your frown. Finally, he was remembering. 

“Oh honey, I am sorry I had to leave today when I knew you wanted to hang out. I wanted to as well, you know I did. Hours in the simulator and all I could think about was coming home to my beautiful girlfriend, the person I am most excited to spend the rest of my life with.” Nevermind, he still didn't remember. But dammit as he hugged your waist and pulled your face towards him to plant kisses everywhere, you couldn’t fight off the laugh that left your mouth. He was stupid but he was charming. Stupidly charming. 

“There she is,” he said looking at the smile now on your face, much to your dismay. “How about I order from that new place, I’ll get all the things on the menu I know we’ll like so we can try them all.”

“Charles, that's an expensive amount of food for no reason.”

“No it isn’t, not when it is for you. You better get used to it, you are being spoiled for the rest of your life.” he walked away to order and you tried hard to remember why you were mad in the first place.

Right, your anniversary. But was it even fair to blame him? He was busy with work and while you wished he would prioritize you a little more, he always made sure to make up for it, to make you feel as loved as possible. 

You were halfway to forgiving him when he came back into the living room, an apologetic look across his face. “I have to jump on a call, could you go pick up the food, my love?” Nevermind, even when making up for being busy because of work, he was too busy because of work to make up for it. 

“Fine.” Was all you said as you got up, the frown back on your face as you grabbed your stuff and left, ignoring his calls and apologies behind you. 

If that hadn’t put you in a bad mood, then the whole ordeal around picking up the food did.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. It will only be a little longer, we weren’t expecting this much business so fast!” The lady behind the hostess stand said.

It wasn’t her fault of course, but it didn’t help your mood. Still you tried to keep it together as you waited 45 minutes to pick up food that should have been ready the moment you got there.

You even kept it together as you realized you had forgotten your keys to the apartment inside, so you had to call Charles to let you in. But after a few insistent knocks on the door, and a few missed calls, you finally broke down. Maybe it was dramatic, leaning on the door as you sat on the ground, crying, but fuck that. You were upset, and upset you were going to remain. Still, it took a few minutes for Charles to come to the door.

“Ah, I am so sorry love I was on the phone and didn't see your-” He was rambling excuses the second he opened the door but stopped when he saw you on the ground, a mess of tears and snot. “Honey, what is wrong? Oh my love I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out here so long, and I didn’t know that the restaurant would be such a mess.” He kneeled in front of you as he wiped away your tears.

“It's not that-or not just that. It's everything Charles, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go-”

“I know, my love, I’m sorry I was-”

“No, you don’t understand. Charles, it's our anniversary, and I spent so long thinking of things we could do today to make it special, but nothing happened and it just got worse and worse till I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just- you didn’t even remember and everytime I tried to tell myself it was okay to be upset or angry, you would be so sweet that I couldn’t justify it-” You couldn’t even finish as sobs racked your body. 

Though, you paused when you heard Charles let out a low laugh. You looked up at him, but he wasn’t smiling or laughing at you, tears streaming down his face confirming as much. It was more of a pitiful laugh. 

“I knew this was a stupid plan. There were too many ways it could backfire.”

Before you could question what he meant, he picked up the food in one hand and reached for you with the other. You hesitated.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Even though you were upset, you took his hand and stood up. Of course you trusted him. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the state of your apartment. Candles lit and spread around, balloons and streamers nicely framing your table that had been set up with a white table cloth, your nicest plates and glasses atop it, and a beautiful, large bouquet of flowers.

“I wanted to make tonight special. I had planned on making the entire day special, but when I had to leave I came up with a plan to make up for me being gone.” He looked at you, waiting for your reaction, he looked… embarrassed? “It was stupid, to pretend I forgot about our anniversary, I wasn’t going to but when I realized I hadn’t said anything, too caught up in the fact I was being taken away from you, I thought I would pretend so I could surprise you. I didn’t have a call, I just needed time to get this ready but after you left upset and then had to deal with all the problems at the restaurant, I began to panic, so much so that I didn’t hear your knocks and didn’t see you had called.” 

You started crying again, alarming Charles. “I know it was stupid, I shouldn’t have done it, I didn’t think it through I’m-” you kissed him, hard.

He was an idiot, such a fucking idiot, but he was yours, and for all of his bad moments, you knew he loved you so much. 

You two finally pulled away, that's when you realized he was shaking, a lot. 

“Charlie?”

“I- I had a whole speech. I worked on it for months. In the shower, in the car, during free practice last weekend it's all I could think of actually, that's why I got yelled at by my engineer.” he laughed, turning red at the memory. “I wanted to talk about how much I love you, how much I don’t deserve you, that I know it's so hard to have my job continually come in the way, but you will always be first, my love, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And I want to spend the rest of my life working to deserve you and your love. I want to spend forever making you feel just as happy as you make me.” Had tears not been blocking your vision, you'd have seen him reach for the box in his pocket.

But it wasn’t until he got down on one knee that you realized what he was doing. And before he could ask the question, you tackled him to the ground. 

The soft carpet luckily kept Charles’ head from hitting the ground hard. You didn’t care, he didn’t care, too busy giggling in between kisses as you both rolled on the ground. Once you two had calmed down and sat up, he slipped the ring onto your finger. “The ring is beautiful, Charlie, but this isn’t how I expected getting proposed to.” you teased as the two of you wiped tears away and tried to fix your messy hair from rolling around.

“It wasn’t how I thought I would propose, but if it ends in getting to spend the rest of my life with you, then I don’t care too much.”

So stupidly charming.

[andvys]

Love of my life | E.M.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight angst, Eddie is a little mean for a second but he makes it up to reader right away, happy ending, grumpy!Eddie x sunshine!reader

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: Eddie gives you the cold shoulder because he fears his feelings for you after you confront him and he realizes that he could lose you, he makes a confession. Based on this request, also combined it with this one.

Word count: 4.2k+

stranger things masterlist

-

Eddie had always been good at reading people, it always came easy to him to see right through someone else’s intentions. He knows when someone is trying to play with his feelings, he knows when someone pretends to be nice only to make fun of him later on, he knows when he gets asked out for a bet or just for the fun of it, he knows that the girls he sells weed to only play nice so they can get a discount– in reality, they hate him and think he is weird, he knows it, he knows everything. 

It was always hard for him to trust people that tried coming into his life, knowing that they always wanted something from him. 

Then, you came along. 

Your family moved to Hawkins two years ago and you settled in pretty quickly. You joined the cheer squad, befriended the popular girls, went to every single party that you got invited to, hung out with King Steve and his then girlfriend Nancy Wheeler, you always wore fancy clothes, expensive boots and designer leather jackets, it was pretty clear that your parents had money. 

But you weren’t– aren’t stuck up, rude and snotty like Jason Carver or his group of friends are. You don’t brag about the wealth your parents have, the house you live in, the car you drive or the clothes you wear. You don’t put others down, you don’t bully people, you don’t look down at the ones that have less than you do. No, you aren’t like the other rich kids in school, you are kind and sweet, you are helping, always cheerful and there to make everyone smile. 

The popular girls are always feared, you aren’t. 

He likes you but he struggles to show it, he struggles to let you in because despite knowing about the things he can clearly see, he struggles to read you, to see through you and your intentions.

He knows you aren’t like the others that came into his life to play with his feelings, to hurt him and take something from him, you aren’t like any of those hungry vampires that came just to suck the energy out of him. You are not like them. Yet, he struggles to give you a chance. 

Despite being friends with girls from the cheer squad or guys like Steve Harrington, you always come back to him. Since your very first day in school, you have been trying to befriend Eddie. Why? He doesn’t know. As far as he knows, there isn’t much that you have in common. 

Eddie lives in the trailer park, you live in a big house with a pool. Eddie drives an old van, you drive an expensive car, Eddie is hated, you are loved. Maybe it’s superficial of him to judge by these things. He doesn’t know much about you personally, he never even gave you a chance, he never gave himself the chance to get to know more about you. He was scared to do it. He was scared to let you in, to give you a part of him that no one ever gets, to be vulnerable and risk getting his heart broken, knowing that you would break his heart if he gave you the chance to. 

He likes you, despite telling himself that he doesn’t. He likes the clothes you wear, he loves the leather jacket especially, he loves the cute dresses and the pretty skirts, the rings on your finger that remind him of the ones his mom would always wear, there is one on your middle finger, one with an emerald stone, it’s almost identical to the one he still has in his drawer, hidden in a little box that has her belongings. He loves the way your nails are always painted a new color every week. He loves your sweet perfume and the way it fills his senses when you walk past him, he loves the way you do your makeup and the way you always greet him with a smile even when he doesn’t give a proper one back. 

But he hates the way his heart flutters when you sneak notes into his locker or into the pocket of his jacket during class– he keeps every single one of them, he hates the way his heart beats faster when your hand brushes his when he walks with you to your next class on a rare occasion, he hates the way butterflies fill his stomach when you wave at him from across the room despite sitting with the girls from the cheer squad, the ones that always glare at him and talk in hushed whispers when they pass by him in the hallways. He hates the way you keep trying to get to know more about him, he hates the way you get along with the guys from the Hellfire club, he hates the way Wayne asks about you after he only met you once when you brought over homework for Eddie after he missed a school day when he was sick. Eddie hates the way you always take over his mind, the way you are always there, even in his dreams, the way you sneaked your way into his heart.

You are everywhere. When he doesn’t see you in school, he runs into you at the record store, at the diner or even the hideout. One night when he was drunk on beer and high on weed, his filter was gone and he let his emotions out, he found the note you slipped into his locker, the one that had your number written on it with your nickname and a small heart, he called you– if he wasn’t so drunk, he would have heard how cheerful your voice had gotten when you realized that it was him. He invited you to watch him play and you agreed to come right away. Ever since then, you came every Tuesday to watch him play and cheer him on, his friends teased him for it, just like the Bartender who knew Eddie since he was seventeen. Eddie pretended to be annoyed but he secretly loved that you were there just for him. 

He started warming up to you, the longer you stuck around, though he was still apprehensive and careful, still expecting you to reveal that your kindness towards him was only a part of a huge prank. Deep down he knew that it wasn’t the case, you have been there for longer than anyone else has, yet he was scared and continued to close himself off from you not realizing that he was hurting you. 

You are always smiling, you are always cheerful and happy, sometimes it irritates him– not because he doesn’t like it but because it makes him feel guilty for being so grumpy when you are nothing but sweet to him. 

The closer you both get, the more he becomes a part of your life. He finds out more about you and realizes that you have much more in common than he thought, he finds some cassettes of his favorite bands in your room, his favorite book on your bedside table, you both share a love for horror movies– especially Halloween. He finds out that you can play guitar and he swore, the moment he saw you play and heard your pretty voice, he fell in love. 

But while you let him in closer, he still kept pushing you away and it was hurting you. 

“Do you have any plans for spring break?” 

Eddie shakes his head, leaning back in his seat, he places the empty milkshake glass on the table and looks around the diner before his eyes settle on you, “no, what about you?” 

You shake your head, “not really,” you mumble. 

Eddie doesn’t notice the sad look in your eyes, he is only focused on the smile on your face, the one he doesn’t realize is fake.

“Rich and popular girl has no plans for the summer?” He snorts. 

You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, you never minded his little jabs or snarky remarks but lately it’s been getting on your nerves. Why are you here? Why are you still sticking around when he clearly doesn’t want to spend time with you? He never wants you around, anyways. He only came to the diner because Gareth and Jeff canceled their plans with him and you were already here when he got here. 

“I mean I’ve been asked on a date,” you shrug as you play with your straw, staring at the pink liquid in your glass, you don’t notice the way his face falls or the way he tenses up and swallows harshly. 

“A-A date?” He asks. 

You nod. 

Eddie stares at your black nails, at your pretty makeup and your soft red lips that always look so kissable to him, your dress is new, he wonders if you put it on for someone or just for yourself. 

“Who asked you out?” He asks, digging his nails into his palms. 

“Mason,” you mumble as you finally look up at him, “you know, the guy from the school band?” 

Eddie clenches his jaw, suddenly his chest tightens and an ugly feeling rushes through him. He doesn’t want you to go on a date with someone else, he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, you are meant to be here, with him. 

“Yeah, I know him.” And he can’t even hate him, Mason is nice, not just to you but also to him and everyone else, his dad owns the record store downtown, the one Eddie always goes to, Mason works there after school and he always gives him discounts and even supports his band. 

“S-So are you going?” Eddie asks, nervously. 

As you look into Eddie’s eyes, you notice something that you haven’t seen there before. Possessiveness, jealousy and sadness. Maybe you should feel joyful to know that he hates the thought of you going on a date but it angers you and it makes you scoff in annoyance. 

Eddie keeps giving you the cold shoulder, he keeps pushing you away, he keeps treating you with halfhearted kindness while you give him nothing but love and kindness. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I don’t like him like that.” Because you like someone else. 

The tension leaves his body right away and he sighs in relief, his face visibly relaxes and he chuckles, “thought I’d lose my favorite girl.” 

On a different occasion, it would have made your heart flutter and your smile would be big but not today. Today, you are overwhelmed by your emotions, the realization that you have fallen in love with him, laid heavy on your heart because you know that he doesn’t feel the same and that it will only end badly for you. 

“Right,” you scoff as you tear your gaze away from him and reach for your purse, taking out your small wallet, you pick out the $20 bill and place it on the table, “like you would care.” 

Your sudden outburst and the snappy tone in your voice catches him off guard a little, you have never snapped at him before, you have never glared at him, you have never rolled your eyes at him, you have never walked away from him. 

But now, he frowns in confusion and watches you rush out of the diner with your purse and jacket in your hand, not even sparing a single glance at him before you push the door open and walk out. 

“What the hell,” Eddie mumbles, jumping to his feet and running after you without a moment of hesitation. He rushes out of the diner, running through the parking lot before you can get into your car. Just as you open the door, he reaches for your arm and pulls you back, shutting the door before he pushes you up against your car and steps right in front of you. 

Your eyes widen a little when you realize just how close he is to you, you have never been this close. 

“What’s gotten into you?” 

You put your hands on his chest and try to push him away but he won’t budge, he grabs your wrists and holds them tightly but gently. 

“Let me go!” 

“No, tell me what’s your problem, why are you acting so rude? You’ve been doing it all night.” 

“Oh, I’m rude?” You scoff as you keep trying to push him away, “you are the rude one!” 

He chuckles at your words and shakes his head, “you are the one who just stormed out for no reason.” 

You furrow your brows as you look up at him. His eyes are filled with curiosity and his lips are pulled into a smirk, he irritates you. You’ve had enough of this, of him giving you the cold shoulder, of him teasing you, knowing damn well that you have feelings for him. 

“I mean in general, Eddie! You are always cold towards me, you always act annoyed when you’re with me even when you are the one coming to me!” You say angrily, tears well up in your eyes. 

Eddie’s smirk begins to fade when he sees the tears in your eyes. 

“Whenever I’m at the hideout, I’m there just for you and you don’t even seem to want me there, not even when you were the one who asked me to come in the first place!” 

For the first time, Eddie watches tears roll down your cheeks, the look in your eyes is one of anger and sadness but also longing. You are longing for him. You are longing for him to apologize to you, to pull you into his arms and tell you that he will do better but he can’t, not when he messed up so bad, not when you are crying because of him already. 

The angel on his shoulder tells him to apologize but the devil tells him to push you away the way he should’ve done a long time ago, for your sake or his? He doesn’t know. 

“A-At first, I didn’t even care that you were being s-so cold but now it just hurts. I wanna be your friend but you make it so damn hard,” you whisper as you try to blink your tears away, “you know everything about me but I don’t know anything about you–” 

“Is that what you want?” Eddie asks, “to know things about me?” 

His brown eyes flash with anger, his voice is laced with bitterness. He lets go of your hands and takes a step back. 

“So you can make fun of me, right? You wanna know things about my family, about my dad? About what he did to my mom?” He snaps, “that’s what you wanna know? So you can run back to your asshole friends and tell them all about the trailer trash gossip?”

Your bottom lip quivers and your shoulder slump, a look of disappointment crosses your features. You would never do this, you don’t even consider those people your friends and he knows it, yet he can’t stop himself from spewing all those ugly words to you. 

“That’s why you kept running after me and that’s why you stuck around for so long, right?” Eddie asks, “tell me, was it a bet? Did they set you up to this?” 

You shake your head, the wind picks up a little, blowing through your hair and messing up your bangs a little, you don’t bother pushing them away, you keep staring at him through your blurry vision. 

That’s what he thinks of you? 

You have given him nothing but kindness, you dropped some of the people you used to call friends, because you realized how badly they treated him, because he is more important to you than anyone else. 

You stare at him in disbelief, his eyes that usually give you comfort despite the coldness he only ever gives you, make you shudder in pain, his lips are set in a frown, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight and you hate yourself for thinking that he is still the most beautiful person you have ever laid your eyes on. You hate yourself for still longing for him and you hate yourself for loving him when he clearly hates you so much. 

“Why would you think that?” You whisper shakily as you clutch your purse tighter.

He blinks, he shifts a little, taking in the sight of your tear stained face, the hurt in your eyes and the quivering lip, your voice sounding so heartbroken. 

He was wrong but he knew that already, he doesn’t know why he is ruining things for himself, why he is hurting you so much. 

He hesitates, his hands itching to reach out to you and pull you into his arms, to hold you and hug you for the first time but he can’t. 

“You’re my friend, I dropped them all because I realized how awful they all were, especially to you! You’re important to me, Eddie. And I would do anything for you, anything! I-I knew you never wanted me around but I tried because I wanted you so badly, I really really wanted you and I kept running after you like some lovesick fool but it was for nothing,” you whisper, watching the way his eyes widen at your words, he stares at you in disbelief. 

Lovesick? He wishes he could speak now but all he does is stare at you in shock. 

Your one sided friendship is over, you don’t have to keep any of those secrets that you thought would ruin this thing between you anymore. 

“I love you, Eddie,” you whisper, biting back the sob that rises up in your throat. 

His lips part in surprise and his heart leaps to his throat as tears well up in his eyes just the way they did in yours. You are telling the truth, you have always been telling the truth.

He built walls around him to defend himself from all the pain that you could cause him if you broke his heart but right now as he stands here in front of you and he looks into your soft eyes, he realizes just how big of a fool he always was. 

You would never break his heart. You love him. Why? He doesn’t know. You are this sweet angel that waltzed into his life and chose to give all her love to the guy that didn’t even know how to accept it. 

He doesn’t deserve you, at least that’s what he thinks. 

Your sniffles break him out of his trance, his heart breaks at the sight of you. He made you cry, he broke your heart. The girl that has done nothing but bring joy into his life is now crying because he messed it up. 

You wipe your tears and turn away from him, you open the door and throw your purse and your jacket into the car. 

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you whisper. 

Panic fills his chest and his eyes widen as he looks at you. You are leaving. You are leaving him. His heart screams at him to do something, to pull you into him, to wrap his arms around you, to kiss you and apologize over and over again, to make it up to you. 

His heart starts beating faster, his hands begin to shake. 

He can’t let you go, he can’t let his stupid fears control him, he can’t keep listening to the lies, his anxiety keeps telling him about you, he can’t keep doing this to you. 

“I love you too!” 

It was loud and probably a little dramatic but he doesn’t care, he finally said it. A huge weight falls off his shoulders and suddenly he feels free. 

You freeze, shock ripples through you and you stare into blank space for a moment. 

Eddie takes a step forward, staring at the back of your head with a soft look in his eyes, he reaches for your arm and he slowly turns you around so he can see your face again. When your eyes finally lock, you notice the adoration in them, one that you have never seen before because he always hid it from you. 

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers softly as he tugs you closer, he raises his hands towards your face and cups your cheek slowly, touching you the way he never did before– he should have done it a long time ago, “please don’t leave me,” he whispers with a hint of fear in his voice.

You stare at him wide eyed. 

“I know you wouldn’t do any of those things,” he whispers as he strokes your cheek, “I-I was just, fuck, sweetheart, I’m scared.” 

“Of what, Eddie?” 

“Of this,” he whispers, pointing between the two of you, “y-you’re so perfect and amazing, you do all these things for me. You support the band that no one gives a fuck about, for fucks sake! A-And I’m just a–” he pauses, sighing, “I’m the town freak!” 

“Yeah and I freaking love you!” 

His heart flutters in his chest, warmth fills his body, a kind he has never felt before.

“Why?” He asks softly. 

You grab his wrists and step closer to him so your chest is pressed against his, “you are perfect, Eddie. You are so talented in so many ways, you are so good to the people around you, you protect your friends, you are always there when someone needs you and you always made me feel safe, even when you kind of acted like a dick. You are better than any of these people living in this shitty town, you are better than those assholes you called my friends! Y-You are just perfect to me, Eddie,” you pause, raising your hand towards his face, you brush away the curls from his face, “and you’re not a freak, by the way.” 

A tear rolls down his cheek and you quickly wipe it away, letting your hand rest on his cheek, “and you’re so beautiful, Eddie.”

His heart soars at your words. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes for a moment. He could have had this for so long already but his fears have led him to push you away, to hurt you, to make you believe that you aren’t anything special to him. Like he didn’t create D&D characters based on you, like he didn’t have a bunch of drawings of you at home, like he didn’t spend every second thinking about you.

Like he isn’t utterly in love with you. 

“Please forgive me for pushing you away, for saying all these horrible things to you, sweetheart,” he whispers as he opens his eyes again, “I-I know that I’m really fucking bad at showing this but, I’m so crazy about you, y/n.” 

You smile at his words, blushing and biting back the excited giggle as your eyes shine with happiness again. 

How could he ever be scared of you? You will never hurt him, you will never break his heart, you will never leave him. You will always be the one to stay, like he will be the one to stay with you. 

“I’m crazy about you too, Eddie,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest, hugging him the way you always craved to. He sighs at the feeling, this might be the best feeling in the world, feeling you in his arms. He spent so many moments thinking about this, finally, he gets to do it. He wraps his arms around you and leans down to kiss the top of your head. 

It’s only the first time that you are in his arms, yet it feels so natural. You can feel his heart racing, it matches the beat of your own heart.

“This is so much better,” you murmur. 

“Better than what?” He asks, squeezing your arms. 

“Better than you being grumpy.” 

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” he says as he pulls back so he can look at you again, cupping your cheeks again, he gives you a soft smile, “let me make it up to you?” 

“I’d like that,” you whisper. 

His eyes light up, he looks down at your lips and tucks your hair behind your ears, “you’re too good to me.” 

You stand on your tippy toes and wrap your arms around his neck, “it’s what you deserve, Eddie, you deserve to be loved,” you whisper and lean in to kiss his cheek. His breath hitches in his throat, the feeling of your lips on his skin might make his knees weak, “so please, let me love you.” 

He lets all his walls crumble, he lets the love in, your love. He smiles sweetly and whispers a desperate, ‘please’. 

You kiss his other cheek and place your hand on his neck, “I’ll love you forever if you let me.” 

“Only if you let me love you,” he says with hope in his eyes. 

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you smile.

“Me too,” he admits, finally. 

“I’ll love you forever, you’re gonna get sick of me,” Eddie says, making you giggle. 

“I could never get sick of you, Eddie.” 

“Good,” he smiles before he finally kisses you for the first time ever, letting himself fall into your arms completely, knowing that he and his heart will always be safe with you. 

[koolades-world]

I was just wondering if you could write for the demon brothers (and undateables if you want) to MC coming back after leaving Devildom for a year (or any long period of time), and they are unrecognizable to the brothers (and/or undateables). Like they had a glow up and came back looking different to where they are unrecognizable <33

I love reading your work it makes my day. Everyday after work I come home and read your posts, really lightens my mood 🫶🏼

hi!! of course!

I'm so happy to hear that you like my work!!! makes all my writing worth it, hope you enjoy this one especially!

Mc who had a glow up!

Lucifer

looks a little surprised at first

however, he continues as if everything was normal

later, he lets you know he likes your new look subtly

never directly addresses it, but you notices his eyes linger on you until he notices you're looking at him

Mammon

tries to pretend like nothing has changed but you can see the gears turning in his head

it's funny to watch him struggle to be cool about it

if you mention it, he freezes and begin to protest as he begins to turn bright red

once he snaps out of it, he begins trying to walk away but probably runs into a wall

Levi

not even trying to hide how shocked he is

unusually confident and he lets you know he likes your new look

he admits for a second, he didn't recognize you

however, he's just happy to have his Henry back and asks when you have time to play games with him in person, instead of online

Satan

pretends like he doesn't know you at first to mess with you

"and who's this gorgeous human standing in the living room?" "SATAN"

you're still the same Mc under the new look, so he's relieved to finally have some one around who actually took the time to try and understand him

takes you out to one of his big gatherings to keep you all to himself and make everyone jelous

Asmo

immediately asks every questions that pops into his head, such as your new skin care routine and if he can do it too

if you haven't done much, he's convinced you're hiding some life changing secret from him but lets it go

posts about your return on Devilgram which causes you to get a new surge of followers

expect a shopping spree and a fun photoshoot afterwards

Beel

for a second, he actually didn't recognize you

but, as soon as he felt the pact flare up, he was happy to be reunited

another brother who doesn't really care since you're the same to him

wants to celebrate with a dinner, just like last time you were in the Devildom

Belphie

teases you a little about small things

however, lets you know he actually likes the way you look now

as long as you can still nap together, he's happy

expect lots of kisses, not because he likes the new you better, btu because he's happy to have you back

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙃𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨

Cw: sexual, lovesick!Miguel O'Hara x afab!genderfluid!reader, once again the reader is based off of me, degradation, biting, oral sex, dubcon, penetrative sex, dry humping, switch!reader, it's the mention of sexual activity rather than happening in the story, reader is not the wife shown in the movie

Miguel O'Hara knew everything about you. When you came to HQ, he was mindful that you merely were a variant of the person he once loved, that you were different, he even tried to find things he disliked about this "new" you. Spider-people work with variants all the time, and they don't make a big deal out of that, but you seemed eerily similar. He heard you crack the same jokes you did with him, tell the same anecdotes, have the same friends, the same taste in extremely specific things, you lived in the same house, and wore the same outfits. Your life was exactly the same, it was just that he wasn't on it, and that somehow you were spiderman.

He acts annoyed like he didn't recruit you, like he didn't want to look at your face everyday, like he didn't crave to have you back in his arms. Like he didn't get hard seeing the curve of your ass in your spidersuit.

Wanting your affection made him feel miserable, but lusting over you made him feel pathetic, disgusting. He knows you'd like that, though.

Because Miguel O'Hara knew everything about you, and you were a freak. He was your first time, so you took some time to warm up and tell him about your fantasies, but they were some fantasies and he couldn't decide which one he liked better. So he knew you'd get turned on at his current situation, you liked the devotion, and you had a thing for when he was being downright nasty, a pervert, you liked when he couldn't restrain himself and stole your used panties, when he jerked off next to your sleeping body, when his cock overpowered his strict nature and turned him into a desperate slut for you.

And he knew it was like this with your variant too, he wasn't exactly proud, but he policed your internet searches, and he found all those oh so dirty smut fanfics. He jerked himself off to every single one, you were imagining someone did that to you, and he was fantasizing with being the one who did it, he didn't even care for the name that was before the "x reader", those were fictional, none of them could fuck you like he knows how.

He knew you had a thing for biting and teeth, his teeth drove you crazy, all it took was a flash of them, and you responded with an uncomfortable shift in your seat and pleading eyes. But you also loved to bite him, he loved your teeth as much as you loved his, you were ecstatic with joy when he asked you bite him harder. No, you're not gonna hurt him, he reassured, and you sank your teeth into him like he was a piece of meat. Also that time when you discovered the effect your teeth could have in a blowjob, you experimentally grazed your teeth on his cock, and he couldn't even pretend he didn't like it, not with the sinful whine, and the buck of his hips into your mouth.

He also knew you liked degradation, you liked when one of you would humiliate themselves to prove his affections, you liked seeing him all worked up, feral, towering over you and doubling you in size, yet still obediently waiting for you to give him the signal, like a fucking pavlov dog. And you also liked to be treated like a slut, even moreso in your masculine days, he loved seeing you confidently bouncing on his cock like the manwhore you were, and in your harder days, you also always gave him permission to turn off the lights, press his teeth in your nape and fuck the dysphoria right out of you.

He knew you were satisfied knowing you were his everything, sometimes you couldn't even believe "why of all people" you where the one to have him wrapped around your finger. Miguel's outmost devotion and love was admirable, he showed you the mercy, love and patience that no one else had ever seen coming from him.

And he loved when you used that power to do as you pleased with him, he gave himself to you entirely, and you never once made him slightly regret it.

You would sometimes slip into his office, or follow him to the bathroom in a public place, and you would dry hump him until he came on the blue denim of his jeans, then you would get up and do something else (nine out of ten times it was running a bath or preparing something for him) just leaving him a complete mess, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, hot body shivering in the cold air, pants stained and uncomfortably tight, but he couldn't look more blissful as he watched you bouncing hips walking away from him.

"you'll be the death of me" he said so many times, without ever suspecting that it would be the other way around, it was him who killed you, it was his fault you died, had he been more careful and protect you from his enemies, you'd be peacefully sleeping next to him. But instead, he's being a creep and watching a security camera of you eating a bowl of cereal at 2 am because of your insomnia, messy hair, fuzzy pajama pants, no shirt and huge dark circles, and he finds you so irresistible just like that. He looked for you in other universes, canon be damned, he destroyed so much, doomed so many billions of people, several variants of spider-people, he didn't care, he was looking for you, but it was never you. He loved all your variants, but they weren't what he was looking for. Until now, this one, this one was different, sure, they wore the mask, but aside from that, it was you down to a T.

The camera he had set up for snooping around your phone lit up, you were probably going to use some fiction to aid you to sleep. The search bar casted a white ray of light to the eyes of his otherwise completely obscured face. "Yandere stalker x reader"

Ay, corazón, if you only knew. If. You. Only. Knew.

[jetii]

Hi! I’m the anon that asked about the SFW/NSFW thing. I had an angsty idea for a Crosshair x Jedi. Reader where they both liked each other, but they never said anything. He injures her during Order 66 and believes her to be dead. Later he finds out she survived, but she has amnesia from when he attacked her. She doesn’t remember that she was a Jedi. She doesn’t remember the Batch and how she battled by their side. She doesn’t remember him.

This can end with the reader remembering and they make up, or you can go the extra angsty route and have it so she never remembers and Crosshair watches as she moves on with someone else. SFW please!

Hi anon! Sorry it took me a while to get to this, but this was harder than I thought. I ended up writing this in a different style than I'm used to, but I think it turned out alright. Tried to keep the word count short but obviously that Did Not Happen. Enjoy!

Forgotten, But Not Yet Gone

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 9,425

Tags/Warnings: Imperial!Crosshair, angst, unrequited feelings, medically inaccurate depictions of amnesia and memory loss

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Killing you was the worst thing that ever happened to Crosshair.

Discovering that you were still alive was a new kind of pain entirely.

And it's one he had never prepared himself for.

He had thought there was nothing left of his heart to break. He thought he was done with feeling anything at all. But seeing you now, in the flesh — and not just the memory of you in the back of his mind...

Crosshair realized he had been wrong.

He had felt nothing for so long. And it had been easier, really. To keep it all locked away. To ignore it. To pretend. He had even been successful, for the most part.

But then, there you were, standing in front of him. And everything came rushing back to the surface.

All of the things he had tried to bury deep within himself. The feelings he had spent years ignoring. All of the things that had made him start to become himself, again. The person he was before the chip, before the nightmare that had been the last year.

And now, as you looked up at him with those big eyes of yours...

Crosshair knew exactly what that emotion was.

You had always made him feel something. Something he had never felt before. Something he was only just now allowing himself to admit. Something he was finally allowing himself to accept.

He’s not sure how long he’s been watching you through the scope of his rifle. So long. Too long.

Long enough for him to realize what he feels.

Long enough for him to know it won't ever go away.

And long enough for him to realize you would never want him again.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from moving. He checks his chrono for the time — he’s been up here for hours, watching the movements of the crowd, and nothing has happened — and stands, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he heads for the ladder.

He has to see you. Even if you won’t want to see him. Even if he knows it will hurt more than he ever imagined.

Because he needs you to know.

Crosshair pushes his way through the crowd, weaving through the bodies. His heart is pounding in his chest. He can hear the blood roaring in his ears. His palms are sweating as he clenches his hands into fists, and his throat is dry.

You don’t see him approach. You haven't noticed him. You're busy smiling and chatting with a vendor over some sort of scrap, the kind of things he used to make fun of you for collecting.

He watches you, the way you gesture animatedly, the way you laugh. You're still beautiful, he thinks, the same way you were the day you left. Your hair is longer, pulled back into a messy braid, and your smile is softer, kinder, but it's still the same.

When he's close enough to hear your voice, he pulls off his helmet so he can hear it more clearly.

You're talking to the vendor about something, the details of the conversation lost on him. The words are just noise in his ears. Your voice washes over him, filling his head, making him ache.

Crosshair stops a few yards away from you. His chest tightens, his heart racing as he watches you. You've been talking to the vendor, completely unaware of his presence. He has to remind himself to breathe, to calm down, to be patient.

Then, you turn around.

He's not sure what he expected to see on your face. Maybe shock. Maybe anger. Maybe even disgust. But you look...pleased. Relieved. Happy. Your smile never falters. In fact, it widens, crinkling the corners of your eyes. Your hand lifts into a wave, and in his stupor he finds his own hand lifting, as if in a trance.

Someone jostles his side as he stands there, staring at you. Your eyes slide off of him and you let out a laugh before a small form launches itself into you, almost knocking you off your feet.

You laugh, picking up the little boy who had run up to you and swing him around, pressing kisses into his hair as he giggles. A moment later, a woman joins you, her hands on her hips, scolding the boy gently for running off.

His throat is too dry to speak. His hands are shaking. The world seems to tilt around him.

Crosshair knows what he feels. He had denied it for so long, tried to tell himself he didn't. But he can't do that anymore. Not when you're here. Not when he's faced with the reality of his feelings for you.

Crosshair can't speak. Can't say anything. Not now. So instead, he watches. Watches the boy squirm in your arms, and the woman smiling at the both of you. Watches as the three of you move on, further into the crowd.

As you move on. Without him.

"CT-9904, report. Why have you left your post?”

He sucks in a sharp breath, reaching up and activating his commlink.

"There was a disturbance in the market," he says. His voice is steady, cool, emotionless. Just like it should be.

"And?"

Crosshair looks around. There's no trace of you or the child. You've moved on.

"All clear."

"Good. Report back immediately.”

Crosshair's finger hovers over the button on his comm, the one that will deactivate it. He glances up, once again searching the crowd for any sign of you, but there's nothing.

You're gone, and he's alone. Again.

Crosshair's stomach turns, and he takes a breath, his eyes sliding shut as he speaks.

"Understood."

Every day, Crosshair takes up his post and watches the market, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. And every day, he finds nothing. Every day, he returns to his base, his shoulders heavy with disappointment. He starts to convince himself that he'd imagined you.

That's the only logical explanation. You aren't real. None of this is.

But then, one day, he finds himself watching as you walk into the market. You're holding the hand of the same boy he'd seen you with before, and he can't help but wonder if the two of you are related. If you've found happiness. If you're happy.

It's the first time since finding you that he feels like he can breathe.

He watches as the boy tugs on your hand, dragging you towards a booth, where he's pointing at something, chattering. You're nodding along, clearly invested in what he's saying.

He doesn't look like you. Maybe it's the father. But his age isn't right, either. Crosshair frowns, thinking. How old was the boy? Four, maybe five? It couldn't be your child, not unless you had hidden him from him for the last four years.

He watches as the boy drags you into a crowd. You're laughing, your smile wide, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He'd forgotten how much he loved seeing you smile. Forgotten how it felt.

The only thing keeping him from leaving his post is his fear that you'll be gone the moment he does. So he stays.

The boy is still talking to you. You're listening intently, but your eyes are moving, scanning the crowd. You're nervous, he realizes. You've sensed him, he's sure of it.

Crosshair doesn't dare move. He doesn't know how you would react. You're a ghost. A figment of his imagination, conjured up because he's finally allowed himself to feel something again, but one he can’t bear to look away from

A group of people walk by. A woman bumps into you. Crosshair doesn't have a good view of you anymore. He curses, shifting, trying to get a better angle. He needs to see you. Has to.

You're moving farther away, leaving the market, the boy's hand clasped firmly in yours.

Crosshair moves, quickly, not wanting to lose you. He leaps across rooftops, keeping you in his sights, until the two of you leave the market.

The crowds have thinned. People are going home, to their families, to their lives. Crosshair wonders, briefly, where you're taking your son. What your life is like.

The two of you turn a corner, heading toward the residential district. He follows you, carefully. Slowly. Keeping a distance. You haven't noticed him, which is fine. He wants to be alone with his thoughts. He can't get over how beautiful you are. How perfect.

Crosshair slows, realizing the two of you are stopping in front of an apartment building. You let go of the boy's hand and crouch down in front of him, smiling as you brush his hair from his face. The boy smiles, wrapping his arms around your neck and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You squeeze him, and Crosshair can hear the low murmur of your voice as you talk to him, though he can't make out the words.

You're talking for a few moments, and then you're straightening, ushering him into the building. Crosshair can see the door open, a figure standing in the doorway. The woman from earlier, he realizes. He watches the door shut behind you, his heart clenching.

Maybe it's better this way. You're freer than you've ever been without the Jedi or the Empire. He doesn't want to put you in danger. He's seen what the Empire does to rebels, and he knows what they'll do to you if they discover you're still alive. The same thing he'd failed to do.

Maybe he can be satisfied with knowing that you're safe. Maybe he can live with not having you.

Still, a part of him wishes that you'd turned, seen him. That you'd looked up at him, somehow knowing that he was there.

He'd give anything for just a moment with you.

A moment is all he'd need.

He'd tell you everything. How much he's missed you. How sorry he is for the things he'd said and done. For everything. He'd beg for forgiveness, though he doesn't think he deserves it. He'd tell you how much he loves you, even if it's too late. Even if you're happy now. Even if you'll never be his.

It doesn't matter.

He just needs you to know.

He watches. He keeps his distance, but he watches. Every day. Waiting for you to appear.

He finds his mind wandering more often, thinking about the what ifs. What would have happened if he had never been forced to kill you? Would the two of you have made a life together, away from the Empire, the GAR, the Jedi? Or would he have continued to deny his feelings, pushing them away, until it was too late and he'd lost you forever?

Crosshair wonders, not for the first time, if it's worth it. If staying loyal to the Empire is worth losing any semblance of freedom. His life. The life he could have had.

He has no other choice. They're the only ones who will accept him, who will give him a home. His brothers are lost to him. They hate him, he's certain. They'd tried to kill him.

They've never needed him. They've always had each other. They'll be fine. They'll move on.

Without him.

Like they did after you.

Crosshair tries not to think about that. It's easier to focus on his work. The only thing keeping him sane, the only thing distracting him.

It's late. Crosshair's shift ended hours ago. He'd gone back to his quarters, but sleep hadn't come easily. His thoughts were racing, as they usually were, and the longer he'd laid in bed, the more restless he'd become. So he'd pulled on his armor and grabbed his rifle, and suddenly he was standing outside of your apartment.

He shouldn't be here.

But he is.

He has to see you. He just...he has to. He doesn't know why.

His fingers flex against the stock of his rifle as he looks around. It's empty, save for a few speeders parked nearby. There's not a single person in sight. He lets out a breath and slings the weapon over his shoulder.

He shouldn't be here.

But he is.

His boots crunch against the ground as he moves towards the entrance of the building. It's not the worst area of the city, but it's not the best, either. It's quiet, peaceful. There's a small garden nearby, a few trees casting a shadow on the door.

He stands outside the door for a moment, looking at the panel next to it. He shouldn't be here.

His fist pounds on the door anyway.

It takes a few minutes, but the door slides open, revealing the boy from the market. He blinks at Crosshair, tilting his head curiously.

"Hello," he says.

"Hey," Crosshair replies, awkwardly. He doesn't know what to say, really. He doesn't have any experience with kids beyond his few encounters with Omega, and she wasn't a kid, not really. "Uh, is your mother here?"

A pair of hands wrap around the boys shoulders and yank him back.

"Sam, you don't just open the door to strangers!"

The woman he'd seen the other day steps into view, a blaster clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes widen as she sees him. He suddenly realizes how this looks — an imperial soldier, standing at her doorstep, in the middle of the night.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

She raises the blaster, pointing it at him. The boy is staring at him, and his gaze moves to the woman, his eyebrows furrowing. He slips around her and darts away, further into the apartment.

"Wait, Sam—" She glances over her shoulder. "Sam!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Crosshair says, holding his hands up.

"What do you want?"

"I'm looking for someone," he says, slowly.

"At this hour?" She looks over her shoulder again, and when she turns back to him, her eyes are wide, panicked.

"Yes. I...I need to speak with her." His mouth feels like its full of sand when he says your name, and he watches as the woman's brow furrows with confusion.

"Who?"

"I need to speak with her. Please."

The woman is silent. She stares at him for a long time, her eyes narrowing, searching his face. She looks like she's about to say something, her lips parting, and then—

"Is everything okay, Maris?"

Crosshair's breath hitches.

Your voice. It's your voice.

The woman — Maris — glances over her shoulder. She takes a breath and nods, before looking back at him. You step into view, the boy at your heels, and stop short, your eyes widening as you take him in.

"We don't want any trouble," you say, stepping in front of Maris, shielding her and the boy. "You can't just—"

"I know."

You're standing between him and the other two, the boy's eyes darting from Crosshair to Maris. The woman has relaxed her stance, lowering her blaster. She's still watching him, wary, but she's not pointing the blaster at him.

"Are you going to hurt us?" you ask softly.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No. I...I need to speak with you."

You're silent. Your eyes are locked with his, searching his face. His heart is racing, and he's struggling to breathe. His armor suddenly feels like an impossible weight on his shoulders.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you nod.

"Okay," you say. "Okay. Come inside."

You turn, ushering the other two inside. Maris looks over her shoulder at him, her eyes narrowed. He can't blame her. He'd be suspicious of a stranger at the door, too. Especially a strange imperial.

He's surprised when you stop just inside the door, waiting for him to enter. Your arms are crossed, your lips pressed into a thin line. You look nervous.

"Close the door, please," you say.

Crosshair reaches behind him, pressing his palm against the door, closing it. He pulls off his helmet and lets it rest against his hip, his fingers tight underneath the lip.

"You said you needed to speak to me?"

He nods. He wants to say so much. To tell you everything. But the words stick in his throat, and the silence stretches out between you.

"Well, what is it?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning. How can he even begin to explain? How can he start to make up for the things he's done? For the pain he's caused you, for the words he'd said, the insults, the hurtful things. For the fact that he was the one to end your life.

"I—" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. No. That's not enough. "I'm sorry," he says, finally.

He doesn't know if that's enough, but it's a start.

"For what?"

Your question throws him. He's not sure what to say. His brow pinches as he tries to think of a response, and the longer he takes to respond, the more annoyed you look.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but—"

"I'm sorry," he says again, firmly. "For...for everything."

Your eyebrows furrow. He watches you, trying to gauge your reaction. But you've always been hard for him to read, with your endless calm and steady presence. It had made him feel less alone, knowing someone else had a handle on their emotions.

Now, he finds it maddening.

"I don't understand," you say, finally. "You show up, unannounced, in the middle of the night, and say you're sorry, but you don't say why. For what? What do you have to be sorry for? How do you even know me?"

Crosshair freezes and looks at you. Really looks at you.

There's no recognition in your eyes. No glimmer of warmth or love, or even hate. Just confusion. And annoyance.

"I..."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

Nothing comes out.

"I...I need to go."

Crosshair turns and heads for the door.

"Wait."

You're still standing between him and the door, and when he gets close, you grab his arm. Your fingers press into the armor, digging into the gaps, the skin on his wrist burning where your hand is touching his.

"Tell me," you say. "Why are you here?"

He looks at you. The confusion is still in your eyes, the annoyance. You're waiting for an answer. You don't remember him. You don't know him. He's a stranger to you, and he has no right to be here, talking to you.

"I shouldn't have come."

"No," you say, "you shouldn't have. Tell me why you're here. What do you want?"

Crosshair sighs, running his hand over his head. His fingers linger on the mottled scar, thumb tracing where the chip was. He knows what he wants to say. But the words are caught in his throat, his tongue heavy, his mouth dry.

"I'm not going to stop asking," you say. "Tell me. Who are you?"

He feels the strange urge to laugh. You always were stubborn. It's not an admirable trait, not normally, but it's something that had always drawn him to you. You were one of the few willing to stand up to him, and now, you're standing in front of him, demanding an answer.

"My name is Crosshair."

Your frown. "Crosshair? Why does that sound familiar?"

He looks at the ground. "That's what my brothers call me."

"Brothers?" You tilt your head, confused. "I don't..."

He looks up, watching your face as you try to figure out what he means. There's a small wrinkle between your brows, the one that appears when you're thinking hard about something. Your teeth worry at your lower lip. You look...

"You don't know me," he finishes for you.

You shake your head, your lips pressed together. "I don't."

"Why not?"

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he can't help but cringe at the way his voice sounds. Childish. Petulant. He can't stop the way his stomach twists.

You're alive.

And you don't remember him.

You frown. "What do you mean? What does it matter?"

Crosshair looks at you, and he can't help it. His eyes roam over your face, searching.

He wonders what happened. Wonders why you don't remember him. If you'd blocked him out because you were hurt, or angry. Or if it was something else. Something more.

"Because we know each other," he says.

"We do?" You blink at him, and your nose scrunches, just a little. He feels a pang of fondness. "How?"

"We...worked together."

"What? Where?"

Crosshair looks away, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He can't do this. Not now. Maybe not ever. He shouldn't have come. He should have left things alone.

"You don't remember."

"I told you that."

"Then what's the last thing you do remember?"

Your brow furrows, and you're quiet for a moment.

"I...I remember..." You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. When you open them again, your face is pinched. "I remember running. A battle. People were screaming. I was hurt."

You glance down at yourself, and Crosshair follows your gaze, looking at the spot where his rifle had pierced you.

"What else?"

You look at him. "Nothing. Everything went dark. Then I woke up on a ship, and the people who rescued me, they brought me here."

"And you don't remember anything before that?"

You shake your head. "No. It's just...black. There's nothing there."

Crosshair can feel his heart sinking.

He wonders if the memory loss was deliberate. A defense mechanism, something to keep you from remembering. A way to protect yourself from the trauma. Or maybe it was just a side effect of being brought back to life.

You’d told him once that you could see people’s memories, peel open their minds until they revealed their thoughts and past to you. It was a useful skill in a Jedi, but one you had hated, and never used. Would it work on yourself? Or would it be different, now that you didn't remember anything?

"Are you alright?"

Crosshair glances up at you, and your eyes meet his. He can't look away. Your eyes are searching, searching, searching, and he knows you're trying to understand what's going on. He can see the frustration and confusion written all over your face.

He nods. "Fine."

You sigh. "This is...a lot."

He nods again, looking away.

"Why did you come here, Crosshair?"

"I needed to talk to you."

"But why?"

"Because..." He sighs. "I need to apologize. For the things I said. For the things I did. And for...for this."

He presses his palm against the place where he'd shot you, and you inhale sharply, stepping back. He can't look at you. He doesn't want to see the fear and disgust on your face.

"I'm sorry," he says, again. "I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I wish..." He lets out a shuddering breath, shaking his head. "I wish things were different."

You're silent, and he looks up, finally meeting your eyes. They're wide, shining with unshed tears, and the sight makes his heart clench painfully in his chest.

"I don't understand," you say.

He can't blame you. You've forgotten everything. Every moment, every memory, every feeling.

And he can't do this.

Not now.

Not like this.

"I have to go," he says. "This was a mistake."

"Wait," you say, reaching for him, but he steps away from you, heading for the door.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, not looking at you.

The door opens, and he steps out. He's halfway down the stairs to the street when you call out.

"Crosshair!"

He stops, glancing over his shoulder at you. You're standing in the doorway, the light from the apartment spilling out around you.

"Come back tomorrow. Please."

He hesitates, and you continue, a slight smile pulling at your lips, "I'll be here."

Crosshair turns and starts walking again.

"Promise?" you call out.

He doesn't stop, but he raises his hand in a wave. "I promise."

You're already waiting for him.

Crosshair can see you, standing in the window. He watches you, your form shadowed by the curtains. You're holding a mug in one hand, the steam curling into the air. The sight of it is so domestic, so...normal. It feels like a punch in the gut.

He had watched you do the same thing, years ago. Sipping tea as you stood at the window, looking out at the landscape. It was one of the first moments that had made him realize that he felt something for you, beyond friendship.

Crosshair is so caught up in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice the boy peeking out from behind you. You lean down, murmuring something, and the boy's face disappears. You take another sip from your mug and step away from the window.

The door slides open, revealing the two of you, and the woman from the other day. She's standing behind you, arms crossed, scowling at him. The boy is holding your hand, and his stare is unabashed.

"Crosshair," you say, smiling. "Come in."

He looks at the woman — Maris — and she narrows her eyes at him, but she doesn't protest. The three of you step inside, and he follows.

The apartment is small, but cozy. It's full of things. Pictures. Sculptures. Pieces of scrap and machinery. Junk, he would have said before, but now, they seem important, somehow.

"Do you want something to drink?" you ask, ushering him towards a chair.

"Water, please."

"Sam, can you get our guest some water?"

The boy nods and hurries to the kitchen.

"So," you say, sitting across from him. "You wanted to talk to me."

Crosshair can feel Maris' eyes boring into him, and he looks up, meeting her gaze. She narrows her eyes and turns away, moving into the kitchen. He can hear the soft murmur of her voice as she speaks to Sam.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I already told you."

"Tell me again."

"I—"

"Here's your water."

The boy sets a cup of water down on the table in front of him. Crosshair glances at him, and Sam looks away, suddenly shy. He rushes back into the kitchen, hiding behind the woman.

"So," you say. "Tell me."

"About what?"

"Everything."

Crosshair lets out a slow breath. He glances at Maris, who's still watching him from the doorway. Her expression hasn't changed, her face set in a scowl. She doesn't trust him, and he can't blame her. He wouldn't, either.

“Not here," he says.

You glance over your shoulder, frowning.

"Maris, can you take Sam out, please?"

"We'll stay here," she says.

"Maris," you say, gently.

She looks at you, her expression softening. You nod towards the door. She shakes her head and steps forward, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

"Call if you need anything," she says.

You nod.

The two of them leave, Maris pausing briefly to look back at Crosshair. He holds her gaze, and she narrows her eyes. The door slides shut behind her.

"Sorry about that," you say. "She's a bit overprotective."

"It's fine." He pauses, and he can’t help but ask, "You're close, then?"

"Yes. Maris is a dear friend. She and her brother were the ones who saved me."

"Good," he says. "I'm glad."

"Why?"

"Because someone has to look after you."

You smile, shaking your head.

"You were always a protective one," you say, chuckling.

Crosshair feels his heart drop.

You've said something of that nature to him before. Many times. He'd always brushed it off, told you he wasn't, that he didn't care. That it was only his duty to protect you. But you'd never bought it, and you'd always seen through his façade, calling him on his bullshit.

You had always been good at that.

“You said you don’t remember,” he points out, ignoring how his voice shakes.

You shake your head. “I don’t, but...I can feel it. I can feel things. When I look at you, it feels...familiar. Like I should know you, but I don't."

"And what do you feel, now?"

You're silent, looking at him. His eyes roam over your face, and he can feel himself leaning forward. Your lips part, and his eyes flick down, watching as your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

He leans in further, and—

The door opens, and Crosshair sits back, turning his head to see Maris and Sam standing there, the woman glaring at him.

"Forgot my datapad," she says, her tone clipped.

"Of course," you say, rising from your seat. "Where did you leave it?"

She doesn't answer, and instead, she crosses the room, scooping the datapad off the counter. She gives him another dirty look and then leaves, the door sliding shut behind her.

Crosshair sighs and leans back in his seat. You give him an apologetic smile and sit back down.

"You were saying?"

"Right. What do you feel?"

You're quiet, and he watches as your brow furrows.

"Sad," you say, softly. “But also…like I'm home. With you. It's strange. It doesn't make any sense. But I feel it."

He can't stop the strangled noise that escapes his throat, and he closes his eyes, his hands gripping the armrests. He tries to breathe, but he can't, and the world seems to be tilting around him.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

He shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Crosshair, please. Look at me."

His eyes snap open and lock on yours. You're staring at him, your face pinched with concern.

"Please," you say, again, and it's too much.

It's the same thing you'd said before, the last time he'd seen you. Before everything had gone to hell. Before the chip. Before he'd shot you.

"I can't," he chokes out, pushing himself to his feet. "I can't."

"Wait," you say, grabbing his wrist.

He freezes. Your hand is warm, and the way your thumb moves over his pulse point makes his heart flutter.

"Let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," you say.

He can feel the tension in his body building, his fingers twitching. He wants to run. To get out of here. To get away from you, and everything that reminds him of what he's lost. Of what he'll never have.

He yanks his hand from your grasp and turns to go, but something stops him. Something familiar. A tugging at the back of his mind. He turns, slowly, and sees you standing there, your eyes closed, your hand outstretched.

"What are you doing?" he demands.

“I—I’m not sure,” you whisper, and your eyes blink open.

The two of you stare at each other, and then you turn, moving into the kitchen. Crosshair follows, stopping just outside the doorway. You're leaning against the counter, your head hanging low, breathing heavily.

"I shouldn't have done that," you say. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"What did you do?"

"I'm not sure," you repeat.

"But you have a theory," he says. You always have a theory.

"I think...I was trying to reach out, to see if I could read your memories. If I could see what happened between us."

"Did it work?"

"I don't know. I tried, but..."

You trail off, and Crosshair watches as you lift a hand to your head, wincing.

"It's like a wall," you say. "Or a wall that's half there. I can't break through."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," you say. "It's like I'm remembering, but not. It's confusing. And frustrating. I saw flashes of something, but it didn't make sense. None of it does."

"Like what?"

"You. Me. Fighting. And..." You frown. "Your…brothers? They were there, too."

Crosshair swallows. He has no idea what you're seeing. How much of the memory is intact, or if it's even real.

"What else?"

"I don't remember," you say, shaking your head. "It's gone."

He doesn't know what to say. The two of you stand in silence, and he can't help but feel a small flicker of hope. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance that you can regain your memories. That he can have you back.

But that's foolish. He's not a child, and he's not that naive. Hope is dangerous. It leads to disappointment. It's not something he can afford. Not anymore.

"I should go," he says.

"No." You reach for him, grabbing his wrist, and he doesn't pull away. "Please, don't go. I need to know more. Please tell me. Tell me about us. About the things we did. About...everything. I need to know. I have to know."

He hesitates. He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't.

But you're looking at him, and you're so desperate, so vulnerable. You'd never allowed him to see you like this. You'd always been strong and sure. Calm and collected. Steady. Always steady.

This isn't you.

It's not.

But he can't help but feel a small pang of hope. A tiny spark of optimism.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

"Alright," he says. "Alright. I'll tell you."

Crosshair keeps coming back.

It becomes a routine. He stops by the apartment, talks to you. He tells you stories, and he watches as you try to remember, but can't.

Sometimes, he catches Maris watching him. Her gaze is always wary, guarded. She doesn't trust him, and he can't blame her. But she tolerates him. She never says anything, not to him, and not to you, but he knows she doesn't like him.

The boy, Sam, doesn't seem to mind him. He's curious, and he has endless questions. He's a smart kid, and Crosshair can't help but feel a small spark of pride every time Sam comes up with a solution to a problem, or manages to repair something that was broken.

He's a good kid.

He reminds him of Tech.

"Do you have any brothers?" Sam asks one day, his hands covered in grease.

Crosshair's stomach twists at the question. He nods, and Sam's eyes widen.

"I have a brother, too. We don't look the same, but that's okay."

"I have brothers who don't look like me," Crosshair replies, and Sam smiles.

"That's good."

Crosshair smiles back.

After that, Sam starts to ask him questions, about his life, his family. His brothers. He can't help but answer, though he tries to keep it vague, giving Sam the barest details. You watch him, and he can feel your eyes on him. You want answers too, but you don't push.

It's easier when it's just the two of you. Easier to talk. Easier to tell you things. Easier to try and find some way to connect.

Easier to fall back into old habits.

"Do you remember that time on Vanqor?"

"The one where I almost drowned in a pond, or the one where I had to save you from that pack of gundarks?"

"Both."

You laugh, and the sound is like music to his ears. "Yes. I remember. You were such a brat about it."

"I was not," he huffs, and you give him a look.

"Yes, you were."

He can't argue. You're right. He'd been a brat. And an asshole.

But he can't help it. You bring out the worst in him. And the best.

"Fine," he grumbles. "Maybe a little."

You smirk and shake your head, and the two of you continue to chat. The conversation shifts, and he's talking about his brothers. How they used to get into trouble. How they'd pull pranks, and he'd end up in the middle of it. How you'd always had his back.

Crosshair can't help but wonder if this is how it would have been, if the two of you had been able to have a normal life. Would you have ended up together, anyway? Would the two of you be happy? Would you have been able to start a family of your own?

He'd never thought about it before, but now, it seems all too possible.

Too tempting.

"What are you thinking about?"

He looks up, startled, and realizes you're watching him, a faint smile on your face.

"Nothing," he says.

"Tell me."

"It's nothing. I was just...thinking."

"About what?"

"Us."

"What about us?"

He pauses, his mouth going dry. He shouldn't say it. He should change the subject. But he can't.

"What we could have been."

Your expression softens, and your eyes shine with sadness.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I wish I could remember."

"Me, too."

The two of you fall into a heavy silence. The air is thick, and he can feel the tension growing. You're still staring at him, your gaze searching. He's not sure what you're looking for, but you seem to find it, because you stand, and walk over to him.

"Can I show you something?"

He nods, and you take his hand, leading him to your room. He can't help but notice how your fingers fit perfectly between his, or the way his skin tingles underneath his gloves when you touch him. You step inside, and close the door behind you, sealing the two of you inside.

Crosshair doesn't know what to expect, but it's not this.

"Sit."

You motion towards the bed, and he does, slowly, feeling his heart race. You move to a dresser and open the top drawer, pulling out a box.

"I found this," you say, sitting next to him, "a few days ago."

You set the box between the two of you, and slowly, carefully, you lift the lid. Inside is a collection of items - a haircomb, a few pieces of jewelry, a datapad, a pair of gloves.

"What is this?"

"I don't know," you say. "Maris found them in my things. She says I was wearing most of this when she and her brother found me. She kept it for me. I think...I think they might have been important to me."

You pick up the datapad and press a button, bringing it to life. The screen lights up, and you stare at it, your brow furrowing.

"It's locked," you say, frowning. "I don't remember the password."

"Have you tried any?"

"No," you say. "I haven't touched any of this. I wanted to wait for you."

He can't hide his surprise, and you smile, a faint flush spreading across your cheeks.

"I think," you say, slowly, "that they're memories. And I think you might be the key to unlocking them."

Crosshair's breath hitches. "How?"

"I'm not sure," you admit. "But...when we're together, I feel...something. A connection. Like a catalyst. I can't explain it, but...I know I need you."

He feels a warmth spreading through him, and he looks away, his heart pounding.

"Do you think we could try?" you ask, tentatively.

He nods.

"Alright," you say. You pick up the datapad, and hand it to him.

"I don't know if I can," he says, taking the device.

"Please."

He swallows. His mouth feels dry, and his hands are shaking. He takes a deep breath, and then types in a code.

The datapad beeps, and the screen lights up.

"How did you know that?" you ask, softly.

He shrugs. "It was a guess."

"A good one," you say, smiling.

"I'm full of good ideas," he replies, smirking.

You roll your eyes, and the two of you share a quiet chuckle.

"So," you say. "Shall we see what's inside?"

He nods, and you scoot closer to peer over his shoulder. He unlocks the datapad, and a folder opens. Inside are dozens of files - audio, video, and holos. He looks at you, and you nod, indicating for him to click on the first one.

The screen goes black, and then an image appears. It's of the two of you standing in front of a waterfall. He remembers the moment. It was from a mission, the first time the two of you had really worked together. He didn't like you then. Not at all. But he can't deny that you were efficient, and had a sharp eye. You'd impressed him, and the two of you had formed a tenuous bond.

"I took a lot of holos," you murmur, and he can't help but chuckle.

"I remember," he says. "You were a damn nuisance."

"Yeah, but look."

You point to the holo, and Crosshair looks, and sees himself. He's standing next to you, and there's a hint of a smile on his face.

"That's you," you say, poking his shoulder.

"Yes," he replies, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "It is."

You move on to the next file, and it's another image of the two of you. And the next. And the next. Until finally, the holo changes. It's a video. The two of you are in the cockpit, and he can see his brothers sitting behind you.

"We were on our way to a mission," he says as he sees the date stamp. "We'd just gotten the brief."

"Play it," you urge.

Crosshair presses the play button, and the two of you watch as the holo begins.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" you ask, glancing at him.

"Of course," he replies, not looking away from the viewport.

Tech looks over his shoulder, frowning. "Statistically speaking, there is a thirty-two percent chance that we will—"

"Shut up, Tech," Crosshair snaps.

"It's alright," Hunter says. "We'll be fine. We always are."

Wrecker laughs, and the sound is booming in the small space.

"And if we're not, well, that's what we have her for," Crosshair adds, nodding towards you.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, thanks. Nice to know I'm the only one who can bail your asses out."

"You're welcome," he smirks.

You huff and shake your head. "Just be careful."

"Always," he replies.

The video cuts off, and the screen goes black. You're quiet, and Crosshair glances at you. You're staring at the datapad, your expression thoughtful.

"That was...me," you say, slowly. "I can't believe it. That was really me."

"Yes," he says. "It was."

"It was so...familiar," you murmur. "But also...not."

"It will come," he says, softly. "I promise."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because it's you," he says. "I know you. You're stubborn."

"You're one to talk," you say, laughing.

He can't stop himself. He reaches for you, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You lean into the touch, and he cups your face, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"I've missed you," he confesses.

"I'm right here."

"I know."

"You don't have to miss me," you say, gently. "Not anymore."

He looks at you, and the words are there, on the tip of his tongue.

But he can't say them.

He can't.

Not now.

Not yet.

"Crosshair," you say, softly.

"Yes?"

"I have a question."

"What is it?"

You hesitate, and he watches as your brow furrows, the small wrinkle appearing.

"Were we ever...together?"

"Together?"

"Romantically," you clarify.

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He drops his hand, and turns away.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," you say. "But...I feel like we were. Or...maybe could have been. I'm not sure."

"We..."

He trails off, and his eyes flick up, meeting yours. You're watching him, your gaze intent, and he knows you won't let this go. Not now.

"No," he says, finally. You look…he isn’t sure how you look, actually, but it has him continuing before he can think better of it. "But we could have been."

"Why didn't we?"

Crosshair looks away, his hands clenching into fists. He can feel the anger, the guilt, the regret, all of it, rising up inside him, threatening to consume him.

"It was my fault," he says, his voice tight.

"What was?"

"Everything," he replies, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"I'm sure that's not true."

"It is," he says. "It's my fault. All of it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a monster," he snaps.

You're quiet, and he can feel the anger burning in his chest, his blood boiling.

"That's not true," you say, finally.

"You don't know that," he growls.

"Maybe not," you say, evenly. "But I know you. I may not remember everything, but I know enough to know that you're not a monster. I know that you love your brothers. That you care about me. That you're a good man. Maybe not a perfect one, but a good one. One I trust."

He closes his eyes, his chest tight. He can't believe you. He can't. You're wrong. He's not a good man. He's not. He can't be. Not after everything. Not after what he's done.

"It's okay," you say, softly.

"No, it's not."

"Then let me help you."

"There's nothing you can do," he says, shaking his head. "I don't deserve it."

"Everyone deserves to be happy."

"Not me."

"Crosshair," you sigh, exasperated.

He looks up at you, and your eyes lock.

"It doesn't matter," he says, the fight going out of him. "It's too late. We can't go back. I can't change the past. And you...you don't remember."

"I will," you say, fiercely.

"Maybe," he replies, unconvinced.

"No," you say, your voice firm. "I will. I will remember, and I will know you. The real you. I will."

"I don't—"

"Crosshair," you say, firmly.

He stares at you, and he can feel his resolve breaking.

"Fine," he says, finally.

"Good," you say, nodding.

"But you have to promise me something," he says.

"What is it?"

"Promise me you won't push yourself," he says. "Don't try to force it. Let it happen naturally. Promise me."

You're silent for a moment, and he can see the wheels turning in your mind.

"Okay," you say, nodding.

"Promise."

"I promise."

"Thank you," he says, his shoulders slumping in relief.

"You're welcome," you say with a grin.

He shakes his head, unable to stop the small smile that tugs at his lips.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says. "Just...you."

"Me?"

"Yes," he replies, his tone wry. "You're infuriating, and stubborn, and—"

"I'm starting to remember why we never got together," you say, teasingly.

He lets out a startled laugh, and the two of you lapse into silence, a comfortable one, filled with a familiarity and a warmth that he hasn't felt in years.

"Do you want to look at more holos?" you ask, gently.

"Sure," he says, leaning back.

The two of you settle down, and he holds the datapad, while you lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder. He feels a familiar warmth spreading through him, a sense of belonging, and rightness.

He doesn't know how long the two of you sit there, watching the holos.

He doesn't care.

He's home.

Crosshair keeps coming back.

Every day, he returns. He tells you stories. Shows you holos. Shares memories.

Slowly, things begin to return. Flashes, mostly. Nothing concrete, but the pieces are there. Small ones, at first. The scent of a flower. The sound of a song. The feeling of the sun on your face.

As time passes, the memories grow stronger. Clearer. More detailed.

And still, you continue to search for answers. You ask questions. He answers, when he can.

Sometimes, it's too much, and he can't. When it is, you change the subject, and the two of you talk about other things.

You tell him about your life. About Maris and her brother, and their family. You tell him about the boy, Sam. You tell him about the work you've been doing, helping to rebuild the city.

You ask about his life, too. His family. His brothers. His life before.

He answers, when he can.

As the days pass, Crosshair finds himself falling back into old patterns. The familiarity of it is comforting, and it's easy to pretend, if only for a moment, that nothing has changed.

That you're the same people, with the same lives, and the same goals.

It's a lie.

But it's one he allows himself, for a while.

One day, you're sitting on the couch, the two of you lost in conversation. He's telling you a story, and you're listening, a small smile on your face.

"Wait," you interrupt. "I remember that."

"You do?"

"Yes," you say, eagerly. "Tech and I were working on modifying my armor, and he asked you to go get us some food. You came back, and—"

"And Wrecker spilled paint all over me," he finishes, his voice bitter.

"Yeah," you say, your grin widening. "And then I had to help you clean it off."

"It was a nightmare," he grumbles. "And it took forever. Your damn hands were everywhere."

You laugh, and his stomach flutters. It's a wonderful sound.

"It wasn't that bad," you tease.

"It was," he insists. "It took hours."

"Maybe," you concede. "But it was fun."

"Fun?" he says, incredulous.

"Yeah," you say, your eyes twinkling. "For me."

"You're terrible," he grumbles, though there's no heat in his words.

"You love it."

He doesn't answer.

Instead, he leans forward, and presses his lips to yours.

You freeze, and he freezes, and for a moment, the two of you are motionless, caught in a moment of indecision.

Then, slowly, tentatively, your lips move against his, and his eyes close, and he's kissing you, and you're kissing him, and the world falls away, and it's just the two of you, lost in the moment.

Finally, the two of you break apart, breathless. Your eyes meet, and there's a spark of recognition, and something else.

Something deeper.

"Crosshair," you whisper, your voice shaking.

"I know," he says, cupping your cheek. "I know."

He kisses you again, and you kiss him back, your arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, and you respond in kind, your hands tangling in his hair.

The two of you continue to kiss, and he's lost in the sensation, his hands roaming over your body, his fingers digging into your skin.

Finally, the two of you break apart, breathless, and your eyes lock.

"Wow," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. "That was..."

"Yeah," he says, a smirk forming on his face.

You laugh, and his smile grows. Then you grow quiet, and you pull away, turning your head.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft.

"Sorry," you say. "It's just...I'm remembering things. More than before. A lot more. Things I'd forgotten."

"What kind of things?"

"Things we did. Where we went. What we said."

He can't help but feel a sense of excitement. This is the first time you've been able to recall anything concrete. It's a step in the right direction.

"What are you remembering?" he asks, his voice low.

You turn to him, and your eyes are shining.

"Us," you say, softly. "The way we were. Together."

His heart races, and he swallows, hard.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice raspy.

Your brow furrows and you close your eyes, and he can see the gears turning in your mind. He waits, barely daring to breathe.

"I remember us, talking," you say, slowly. "We were on the ship, and I was working on something, and you were sitting with me, and...we were talking about us."

"What did we say?"

"You told me that...you cared about me," you murmur. "You told me that you didn't know how, or why, but that you did."

"I remember," he says, his voice breaking.

"I remember...how I felt," you say. "When you said it."

"How?"

"Happy," you reply, smiling. "It made me happy."

He can't speak. Can't move. Can't think. All he can do is stare at you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Crosshair," you say, gently. "I—"

Before you can finish, the door slides open, and the two of you jerk away from each other, startled.

Maris stands in the doorway, her expression unreadable. She takes in the scene, and her eyes narrow.

"Am I interrupting?" she asks, her tone cool.

"No," you say, hastily. "We were just...talking."

She doesn't respond. Instead, she turns, and walks away.

You let out a shaky breath, and Crosshair glances at you.

"I should go," he says, softly. "I need to report in before they come looking for me."

"Right," you say, nodding.

"Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah," you say. "I'll be here."

"Okay," he says, his heart still pounding. "I'll...see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," you repeat, and he stands, heading for the door.

Before he leaves, he glances back at you, and the two of you exchange a brief, secret smile.

Then, he steps out of the apartment, and the door slides shut behind him.

As he makes his way back to the shuttle, he can't help but feel the weight of what just happened.

He can't deny it.

There's no turning back now.

Crosshair makes his way back to your apartment, his mind filled with thoughts of you. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since the kiss. He can't help but relive the memory, over and over, the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your mouth, the way your body felt pressed against his.

It was better than he'd ever imagined.

And now, he's desperate to see you. To kiss you again. To hold you, and touch you, and feel your skin beneath his fingers.

He reaches the door, and before he can knock, it opens, and you're standing there, your eyes wide.

"Crosshair," you say, and the sound of his name on your lips sends a thrill through him.

"Hey," he says, his voice raspy.

You look at him, your expression unreadable, and his stomach churns.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," you say, and his worry eases, slightly. But you're not smiling, and he can tell something is wrong.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"It's...I don't know," you reply.

"Tell me."

"Okay," you say, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

He follows you into the living room, and the two of you sit down. You're on the edge of your seat, your hands clasped in your lap, and he watches as your leg bounces.

"So," he says, his voice strained. "What is it?"

You take another breath, and your hands tremble.

"I...remember," you say, slowly. "I remember everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes," you say, a small smile appearing before it falls. "It all came back. It was like a flood, and I couldn't stop it."

"What do you mean?"

"I remembered," you say, a look of awe crossing your face. "I remembered it all. The good, the bad, and everything in between. The missions, the battles, the fights, the arguments. The pain. The loss. The love."

He stares at you, unable to believe what he's hearing.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," you say. "Dead serious."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He can't stop himself. He grabs you, pulling you close, and the two of you embrace, his arms tight around you.

"I can't believe it," he says, his voice hoarse. "I thought...I was sure it would never happen. That I'd lost you. Forever."

"It's okay," you say, resting your head on his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here."

He holds you, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Crosshair," you murmur.

"Yeah?"

"I have to leave," you say, and his stomach drops.

"Leave?"

"Yes," you say. "I can't stay. Not now. I need to get out of here. To go somewhere. Now that I know what I am, I—I can't stay. I'm a danger to everyone here."

"Where will you go?"

"I'm not sure," you reply, slowly. "Somewhere I know the Empire won't find me."

"Where?"

"I don't know," you say, shaking your head.

He's quiet, and the two of you lapse into silence. Finally, he speaks.

"I'll come with you," he says.

"What?"

"I'll come with you," he repeats, firmly.

"Crosshair, I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not," he says. "I'm offering. And besides, you need me. I know the Empire, and the ways they track people. I can help keep you safe."

You hesitate, and he can see the uncertainty in your eyes.

"Please," he says, his voice soft. "Let me do this. Let me keep you safe. I can't lose you again. I can't. Not after all this."

You gaze at him, your expression thoughtful.

"Okay," you say. "If that's what you want."

"It is," he says, fiercely.

"Then we'll do it together."

"Together," he says, nodding.

The two of you smile, and you reach for him, pulling him close, your lips pressing against his. He responds in kind, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

You break apart, and his eyes meet yours, and he knows, without a doubt, that this is the right decision.

He's not letting you go again.

Never again.

Not if he can help it.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @kindalonleystars

@cw80831 @qvnthesia @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak @lovelytech9902

@frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @Puppetscenario @umekohiganbana

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@ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster

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@megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony

[connorsbonez]

Stalkers and Cryptids

Meeting the Bat Family

1. Danny

Since him and Wes got together with Tim at the same-ish time, it was decided that they’d get introduced to the family one at a time before going together, and for some reason, Danny got chosen to be the first to go.

It went surprisingly well! The siblings loved him (at least, they think Damien does, maybe Danny will have to convince him through the means of Cujo) and it took Bruce a moment but he came around

Duke thought Tim managed to bring the personified sun into the house at first before realizing ‘oh, it’s a person’ and switched to ‘what the fuck is up with you’, pulling out some sunglasses before asking Danny who straight faced told Duke that he ate a lot of glow sticks as a kid.

Duke asked what they tasted like.

Cass and Danny stared at each other for five minutes before nodding and continuing on like nothing happened.

Steph and Danny had to be physically separated and it was agreed to never leave those two alone. No matter the circumstances. Tim is terrified and rightfully so.

So everything was going pretty great.

And then dinner happened.

Fenton Curse reared its ugly head in the form of Danny accidentally touching the chicken with his bare hands. He barely got in an apology before the chicken jolted upwards in vengeful fury and dragged everyone into a recreation of the Cold War. Food was splattered on everything and everyone, the table was flipped to the side in an effort to be used as a shield, screams of the damned as the chicken descended upon them with a large butcher knife, something was on fire, and Alfred was loading up his shotgun crouched behind the table with Danny on one side and Bruce on the other looking like he was astral projecting but not at the same time.

It was agreed that this dinner was never to be spoken of. Ever.

Danny wore gloves from now on when he came over for a meal of any kind.

Dick had to wear a hat for a bit after the chicken managed to take off some of his hair, leaving a bald spot (Steph tried to shave his head completely to ‘even it out’)

2. Wes

They waited two months before bringing Wes to the manor and after what happened with Danny, the family was a touch more wary. Dick jokingly(ish) asked if Wes would bring anything alive, he replied with ‘Not unless you pay me’ and didn’t elaborate further.

You’d think they’d calm down after interacting with Wes for a bit because it wasn’t like he was horrible, he meshed well with the others and they could find themselves genuinely liking Wes if not for a small little thing or two. It was going too well. Wes seemed to know how to interact with all of them, barely making any mistakes that came with interacting with new people, it was off putting to the vigilantes. (Except Tim, he didn’t notice a thing odd about it)

Along with the fact that the ginger seemed to sometimes ask very…interesting questions that made the others pause. Wes can’t help himself when it comes to knowing things about people that he’s talking too, he held off this long and now he can’t help but slide in a few questions and comments here and there…just to see if they notice.

Wes could acknowledge that he found it a little funny how much he was driving the Waynes up the wall.

Bruce kept staring at Tim, as if trying to telepathically get answers from him. Tim pretended not to notice his gaze.

Someone tried to give the shovel talk and Wes responded by saying their credit card information in a deadpan tone.

This visit also somehow managed to go to hell, this one didn’t even make it to dinner. The disaster kicked off with Wes and Damian, no one is quite sure what was said but it ended with an absolute cat fight, with Dick holding back Damian who had a bruise already blooming on his lower jaw and Jason holding back Wes who had a small knife lodged into his thigh and promptly bit Jason when he abruptly grabbed the ginger.

Jason later got checked for rabies.

Wes refused to give the knife back, having left with it still in his thigh. (Danny got it out and was unsurprised by the series of events when told.)

(Batman definitely went to their apartment later that night.)

3. Bernard

This wasn’t the first time he met the Wayne Family but it was the first time he’d be meeting them as Tim’s boyfriend instead of just friend.

So obviously the meeting went find, they already knew who Bernard was so it wasn’t a get to know you meeting but a shovel talk meeting + meeting the third boyfriend

Bernard was the only one really intimidated by the shovel talks

Most peaceful night, Bernard told some of his theories during dinner, including how Superman, Batman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Lex Luther were in a polygamy relationship. Jason was dying (metaphorically this time) during dinner as well as the other siblings, Bruce not so much and Damian tried to act like he didn’t find it funny (Dick swears he did).

He was the only one Bruce didn’t feel the need to heavily research. (Because he already did that when he and Tim first became friends)

( I kinda hate this but whatever, it’s been in the drafts for far too long. )

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

The Makeover and The Makeup

Title: The Makeover and The Makeup

Pairing: Angel Dust x reader (Platonic), Alastor x reader (mentioned)

Word Count: ~1,369

In which Angel Dust and the reader get into a fight in the middle of a makeover session.

A/N: Part 3 of the Never and Always series. It’s super short, but I still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of Val, mentions of de*th, Angel being suggestive, ooc Angel maybe

When you had first struck a deal with the Vees, they had treated you with something that had almost resembled kindness. They had showered you in compliments and praise, feeding you false promises and empty words of endearment.

It lasted for two days.

After that, you were fair game. Fresh meat. A new toy for all three Vees to poke and prod at while you did their bidding.

But then came your knight in blood red armor, holding his cane in one hand and smiling broadly as he greeted you with a kiss to your knuckle for the first time.

You had stuck to Alastor’s side ever since.

But although you were more than grateful for his rescue, you couldn’t help but continue to feel a little alone. Alastor had saved you, yes, and he kept you by his side, of course, but he wasn’t exactly one to share feelings or stories. 

He did, however, listen to yours. 

After you had shared a particularly brutal story having to do with a certain moth demon, Alastor had come to a quick decision and swept you away to the Hazbin Hotel. 

When you arrived, you had found a group of souls that were just as broken as you were.

Especially Angel Dust. 

While your brief time with the Vees was nothing compared to Angel’s ongoing experience with Valentino, he seemed to appreciate that you had some semblance of understanding about what it meant to be Valentino’s target.

Meanwhile, you were just happy to find that you weren’t the only soul foolish enough to fall for the moth demon’s charms.

Ever since the two of you had found out about your shared past, Angel had practically taken you under his wing. He introduced you to Cherri Bomb, invited you when he was high strung and needed to go out, and confided in you when he had a rough day at work.

You had done the same, telling your stories about the Vees and your life Before and sharing your feelings.

The last point, though, you were beginning to regret.

“So he killed a guy for you, huh?” Angel asked as he circled you, admiring his handiwork.

“That’s not what I said,” you protested as you looked at your reflection in Angel’s full-length mirror. 

Angel stopped walking and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “You really think Smiles left the guy alive? C’mon, dollface, you ain’t that naive, are ya?”

You flushed and looked down.

“That’s what I thought,” Angel said, smugness coating his words as he began walking once again.

You looked back up and glared at him through the mirror. “You know, when I said you could give me a makeover, I didn’t mean I was going to be your personal dress-up doll. This is the fifth outfit.”

Angel stopped beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders and leaning into you as he admired his work in the mirror. “You knew what you were gettin’ into, sweet cheeks. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

You did love it. It was fun to let your guard down for a few hours and allow Angel Dust to release his creative energy. Not that you would ever say so to his face, of course.

“Besides,” Angel continued as he wandered away from you and towards his closet, rifling through the many options. “Your first official date with Mista Creepy was a hit, right? We’ve gotta change up your style a bit if you wanna get some,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Your eyes widened. “That is not what I’m trying to do,” you hissed. “Alastor is my friend.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.”

“He is,” you insisted. “He’s been nothing but sweet to me, and I’m not going to ruin the friendship that we’ve built.”

You tried not to notice Angel’s grimace in the mirror. It was a lot harder to pretend, though, when he turned around with an uncertain expression on his face, holding a dress to his chest and avoiding eye contact.

“Look,” he said hesitantly. “I know he seems…”

“Kind.”

“Right,” Angel said, scratching the back of his head. “But I’ve been talkin’ to Husk. About you and Smiles. He says you should be careful.”

You couldn’t fight back the burst of anger that rose in your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Angel’s eyes widened as he held up his two free hands in surrender. “I ain’t sayin’ you gotta stop talkin’ to the guy. I’m just saying-”

“You don’t know him,” you interjected, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t know anything about him. I know he’s an Overlord, but he’s sweet and he’s kind, and he’s never done anything to hurt me. He would never hurt anyone.”

You realized your mistake as soon as the words left your lips. It was foolish of you to forget. Alastor was your friend, of course, but he was also an Overlord. One of the most powerful Overlords that Hell had ever seen.

There was a fire in Angel’s eyes as he leaned towards you. “He already has. He’s done it to all those other souls he owns, and he’s done it to Husk. I know you love ‘im, but he ain’t a good guy.”

You spluttered and stepped back, trying to ignore the blush that coated your cheeks. “I didn’t say I loved him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You didn’t have to. I see how you look at him. It’s the same way I looked at Val before-” he stopped, looking down and away from you, shielding his gaze.

You felt your anger seep away as quickly as it had appeared. How could you have been so blind? Of course this situation felt familiar to Angel. You were a fool for not noticing any sooner. A fool, and a horrible friend.

Angel looked up, finally meeting your eyes. “I just don’t want you ta get hurt.”

You understood exactly what he was saying, of course. Alastor owned Husk’s soul, and despite never taking advantage of that fact when you were around, you had heard some of the stories from Angel. It only made sense that your friend was trying to warn you now. Someone he loved was already at the mercy of the Radio Demon. Of course he would do anything he could to protect you from the same fate.

You nodded, looking down. “I know,” you said quietly. 

You stepped forward then, wrapping your arms around the spider demon and squeezing tightly. “Thank you. For looking after me.”

For a moment, you received no response. Then, you heard the rustle of fabric as Angel dropped the dress that he was holding onto the floor, wrapping four of his arms around you and pulling you close. “That’s my job, toots,” he said quietly.

You held each other, a silent promise passing in between you as you gripped each other with all of the strength you could muster.

Finally, you stepped back, reaching out and grabbing two of Angel’s hands. You pressed them to your lips, one at a time, before looking up with a soft smile. 

“I hope I didn’t ruin the makeover,” you said with a gleam in your eye.

Angel grinned, reaching up with one of his free hands to ruffle your hair. “Not at all, sweet cheeks. Let’s get this show on the road.”

~~~

When Husk found the two of you later that day after searching for his usual drinking partner, he didn’t find two demons smiling together as they dressed up and pretended for a few hours that the rest of Hell didn’t exist.

Instead, he found two wayward souls on the ground, half dressed and half asleep, leaning against each other as they spoke in a way that only the closest of friends could.

They looked over at him, smiling and beckoning him closer, and drawing him onto the floor with them, where they spoke until sleep finally wrapped its kind arms around them.

They were still in the hotel, of course, but for the first time in a long time, these three souls finally felt like they were home.

Part 4 Here!!

A/N 2: Another part with more Alastor x reader is coming soon, it’ll be a continuation of A Dance in Death!! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @miyu-kii @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o