#i become proficient at everything

[isekyaaa]

It's easy to think that in a magical world, you'd be more driven to master the art and whatnot because it's cool, but in such worlds, magic is such a normal thing that it's probably just another subject in school. Most people have no desire to master anything in school, simply to either do well in every subject or just to pass.

But it also brings up the idea that, just like anything, you wouldn't necessarily be able to be good at magic through sheer willpower alone. Just like how some people are good at math while others are amazing at sports, the same logic would probably govern magic.

[tiredeyes1975]

what do i doooo im stuck between everything

[luveline]

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes. 

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?” 

“Just reading.” 

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless. 

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes. 

He stumbles over a breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“It’s courtship rituals.” 

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture. 

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you. 

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well. 

You prop your face in his hand and watch him. 

He doesn’t look upset, only focused. 

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off. 

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask. 

He blinks to attention. “What?” 

“You’re not talking.” 

He grins. “I’m thinking.” 

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything. 

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” 

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.” 

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly. 

You can’t look at him. 

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces. 

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.” 

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.” 

“You wrote me a poem?” 

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.” 

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it. 

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?” 

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“How am I supposed to feel?” 

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.” 

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense. 

“Are you kidding around?” you ask. 

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.” 

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches. 

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.” 

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?” 

“Maybe?” 

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative. 

“Okay.” 

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again. 

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.” 

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.” 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…” 

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care. 

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over. 

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek. 

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug. 

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits. 

“I usually am.” 

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop. 

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job. 

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.” 

[merchant-wizard-and-jerry]

(This is going to be linked as the card drawing post from now on)

*Warning all effects are permanent unless stated otherwise wise and all effects can’t be undone by undoing the magic*

(This means that if your arms turn to metal, you can’t revert the spell that made it happen, because the armed in the eyes of the universe are naturally metal now, but instead can convert the metal back into flesh like you would do if the arms were always metal.)

(The lore reason why is the supreme being made it…. Aka I am the writer of this story and deck and I say no you. (In a joking manner if you or a love one rolled something you don’t want to happen tell me and we can work out a solution))

(List of effects)

TP who TC Gains partial divinity

TP who TC can ask one question to the universe and gets a true answer

TP who TC is immune to all undead for 24 hours

TP who TC can ask one request of the Flock of seagulls

TP who TC gains absolute mastery of there most proficient skill

TP who TC gets there perfect ideal of a follower summoned, the follower is made of stained glass

All people who wants to attack TP who TC becomes completely peaceful

TP who TC has the vision permanently enhanced by 4x

TP who TC brain grows 10x as fast and smart for 1 hour

the next good effect drawn from TD is doubled

TP who TC has everything blue that there touching enchanted randomly.

TP who TC gains a skeleton key

TP who TC has there mind gain armor, it helps reinforce there mind’s processes and also help ward of wind magic form effecting it

TP who TC has a calming aura for 1 week, anyone within that aura has their emotions calmed.

TP who TC arms turned to metal (I forgot to say, for 1 hour)

TP who TC splits into five identical clones 1/5th the size. Each have a randomly selected 1/5th of TP who TC’s powers. At the point of them splitting is when there memories split. Each will grown to normal size over the span of a week. Once one dies, its powers and memories are randomly split among the remaining clones (of that batch). Each clone can split but the above side effects still apply.

TP who TC is recognised as a minor noble in the nearest nobility system

all eyes in a 1 mile radius of TD glows gold for a year

TP who LC gets magic equal TP who TC's magic capabilities for 1 spell

TP who TC can see how corrupt anyone is

TP who NC has there card effect double

TP who HTC has the ability to identify any living thing’s clade

TC turns into, upon being drawn, a random minor magical item. TP who TC will be registered as that item's true owner, that ownership will either be passed to a designated person or person with their best interest in mind upon death of the previous owner.

TP who TC can identify if it’s safe to drink any water they see

TP who TC gets 10 currency

TP who HC has control over a small company of knights

TP who TC gains scales for 1 hour

TP who TC begins to be observed by a god

TP who TC will have all cuts immediately scab over for the next month.

TP who TC is turned into an animal chosen by TP who NC for 4 hours. TP who TC keeps their mind, unless this card is drawn again in the same time and the same animal is chosen. If it is picked again but with a different animal, TP who TC will hybridize as both animals.

TP who TC has the effect they last were under that was triggered by a card reapplied as if they drew it again.

TP who TC chooses a person who will NC

(Automatic custom card)

TP who TC has there element shift one element, this effect either last 1 year or until TP who TC comes to except one lie they believed was true was a lie

A random seed in a 1 foot radius around TP who TC will grow to complete maturity. If there is no seed, a seed will from that when planted will grow a perfect replica of a random card with the magic effect at 1/10th efficiency

TP who TC plays a game of 20 question, if you win, you get a clue finding spy glass. If you lose you lose an eye.

TP who TC next spell will go wild

all water in a 30 foot radius of TD turns into wine

TP who LC has its effect happen to TP who TC

TP who TC has the direction they move relative to gravity altered by the person who NC

TP who NC has TP who LC effect added to theres

TP who TC becomes the target of tempest the clown. Tempest is a weather demigod who wishes to bring joy to kids by showing them weather phenomena… up close.. at full scale.

TP who NC will gain the ability to know where you are at all time

TP who TC will be transformed into a computer software sprite on a piece of digital hardware. The card is transformed into that piece of hardware. Both effects last for 1 day

TP who TC has all there hair light on fire, they are not armed nor is there hair

TP who NC can choose one of TP who TC’s skills to lock for 1 hour

TP who TC experiences 1 years worth of advanced mutation that would be handy in this situation

all grass in a 3 yard radius of TD turns into a fungus based alternative

TP who TC will lose all their hair and have it regrow in a 24 hour period

TP who TC will have all open injuries and non-sensory body holes (peircings, behind, belly button, etc) transformed into functioning technology ports

TP who TC is swarmed by pollen

TD loses its magical effect for 10 minutes

TP who TC gets struck by lightning

TP who TC if they have a scarred over stump it grows cactus spines making it impossible to restore, if not you are immune to cactuses.

TP who TC loses their sense of smell for 10 min

in a 1 yard radius around TP who TC rain will clouds form and rain for 1 week

TP who TC becomes a telepathic potted plant for 1 hour. TP is completely immobile, but still conscious and is able to talk to anyone nearby via telepathy. Any person who touches TP is affected by magic: (Roll 1d4 to decide the effect given) 1. Becoming a telepathic potted plant without other effects. 2. Being fully healed and restored as if they drank a powerful healing potion 3. Clothes are replaced by plants equivalents made from leaves, grass, flowers, moss, and other plant materials. These new clothes do not cover up well and ordinarily resemble Druidic clothing, but also resemble the clothes they were previously wearing. Depending on the magical power or significance of their previous clothes, they may be possible to recover via summoning magic. 4. A large tree appears nearby and they are temporarily transformed into a dryad linked to that tree for one day.

TP who TC becomes a potted telepathic plant for a year

TP who LC attacks you

TP who draws TC loses the ability to understand speech for 1 hour

TP who TC loses all of wealth

TP who TC has there most prized possession trapped in this card for 1 year or until they tell someone a deep secret

all events that took place in the last hour reverts in a 20 yard radius of TD

TP who TC Dies

TP who NC will gain control of your body for 1 minute

(List of terms)

The person (TP)

The deck (TD)

Drew this card (TC)

Drew last card (LC)

Draws next card (NC)

Holds this card (HC)

(Rules)

You can ask pay for a card with 10 currency

When you pay you can specify out of character whether you want a random card or if you want me to make a new one for you to draw that will be added to the deck

If I make a new one I’ll add it to the list

Also if the card calls for good or bad it is referring to thirds, the first 1/3 is good, the last 1/3 is bad and the middle in neutral, round down and give the neutral the extra cards.

If you pick random, roll for me out of the numbers and tell me what you get

[andy-wm]

Another small but affirming moment:

"I love that you're a great cook"

This isn't just recognition of Jungkook's skills.

This is another small moment that says EVERYTHING.

And it has nothing to do with Jimin taking his shirt off. That, I think, was totally natural behaviour. We've heard plenty of times that Jimin doesn't wear much at home. I think he is quite comfortable in his skin.

But I digress...

"I love that you're a great cook"

It wasn't just praising someone for a job well done. If he wanted to praise JK, there are many other ways he could have said it. And he most likely would have said "I love that Jungkook is a great cook", adressing (or at least including) all the other people who were sharing the meal.

Instead, he made it about JK and himself, excluding the other people in the room.

So why would Jimin phrase it specifically in that way?

Let's take it apart:

I love that...

Jimin starts by framing it around himself. This is first and foremost about Jimin.

So why would it matter to Jimin, whether JK cooks well or not?

Let's add 'because' and consider what could/would come next. Maybe...

"because I get to eat well."

That's definitely a reasonable option.

I don't think Jimin was concerned about JK eating well...

But even if Jimin was concerned about JK eating well... that wouldn't require JK to be a great cook. That seems a bit patronising to me. JK is an adult, and a wealthy one at that. He's quite able to source delicious food for himself. He doesn't need to rely on his own ability to cook.

It wouldn't be cause for Jimin to love that JK is a great cook.

It therefore would be for Jimin himself that it matters.

Now, if JK was simply a friend, would Jimin really be so invested in whether JK was a great cook?

Would he LOVE that JK could cook really tasty meals?

If JK was a lousy cook, they could simply eat at a restaurant, right? Jimin wouldn't need to care too much if JK was a good cook or not. He could easily opt out of JK's cooking.

But...

If JIMIN was the frequent beneficiary of JK's meals (because of existing circumstances) he would definitely be affected by how well JK can cook. If JK was a lousy - or average - cook, Jimin would not be so excited about eating the food JK prepares.

There's another option too, and one I think is equally likely.

"I love that you're a great cook...

because I am not good at cooking."

I adore Jimin but facts are facts...

We all remember how Jimin mangled his gimbap, right?

When you're one half of a couple you often pool your resources. When it comes to certain things you see yourselves - to an extent - as a single entity, right?

If one half of the pair is unskilled at something, it's helpful if the other half is at least proficient. Because between the pair of you, you have it covered.

And this applies especally if you have many shared skills, as they do. And if you're good at almost everything you try. A skill you haven't acheived becomes that much more admirable, especially when you experience the benefit of that skill directly.

To me this is another small but significant indicator that they share more than your average friendship.

It's peak domestic Jikook.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I can totally imagine that, after getting absolutely no where, Jokerized!twin darling just has an Azula-level breakdown. Especially if the Batfam or God forbid Damian somehow manages to subdue the unpredictable mess. There's no way that Twin!Reader doesn't resent Damian to a degree, especially after everything he put them through... so seeing his twin brother not only be accepted but also find a family that was willing to have him? While Twin!Darling was just used and abused in some shape or form? Absolutely breaking down!

Twin!Reader wholeheartedly holds an immense amount of resentment towards both Damian and Talia. I really like the idea that Twin!Reader was more akin to being that of a normal child born outside of a family full of assassins than to acting like one who was. Like, Twin!Reader was on par with Damian when it came to the proficiency of their training but the mentality just wasn’t there for them. They couldn’t just aimlessly kill, they couldn’t just walk away with someone’s blood on them and not feel something. Not only that, they just weren’t emotionless to any degree like how their mother and brother so easily were. They laughed, they cried, they felt fear, they felt hurt. Like, I’ve had this scenario in my head for a bit of there being a thunderstorm or a blizzard and Twin!Reader seeking out Damian because they’re scared, they sneak into his room and they just want comfort. They just want to be together with their twin brother in their moment of need. And Damian begrudgingly allows it cause they won’t go away no matter what he says but he still makes comments about how weak they are for something as ridiculous as a storm to have them acting like this and that the Reader better be out before mother finds out. I especially like this kind of scenario being what Twin!Reader holds onto when they need something no the better side to look back on. It didn’t happen often, nor did it come without berating, but there were a few moments that Twin!Reader had with Damian that they’ve held onto, that they’ve cherished.

I also really like the idea of Talia having tried to kill Twin!Reader behind Ra’s back, leaving them for dead only for them to survive and that’s where we go from there. I think it really adds to the whole familial betrayal thing and gives more to the Reader eventually going off the rails, especially as they’re in search of somewhere to belong, for someone who willingly and genuinely wants them for them. It makes it even more of a surprise and gut punch respectively for Damian, Talia, and Ra’s when the Reader pops back up. Especially, after being Jokerized.

All their life, Twin!Reader as been used and abused in some way, shape, or form. And even after being Jokerized that’s all they’re met with. Even if it isn’t to the same extent it was with Talia and Damian, these new people the Reader is trying to find belonging in all have ulterior motives. They want to use the Reader against Batman (or one of the other main people the Reader’s been associated with), they want something to have and hold over Batman’s (or whoever else’s) head. That’s all it is, at least in the beginning. Eventually these people do come to have some amount of care for the Reader but by then it’s too late and the Reader is in the wind and on to the next one.

I do really love the idea of Damian and Twin!Reader sharing their love for animals. I especially love the thought of the Reader’s first pet/companion being a hyena Joker and Harley (probably just Harley) gifted them after their initiation into the Clown Family. That hyena would mean the absolute world to the Reader, as far as the Reader was concerned it was their first friend and the first thing that ever stayed around for them. Wherever the Reader went, so did it. I love the thought of the hyena being protective of the Reader, sticking close to them for both security and comfort. The hyena very quickly becomes the only thing that Twin!Reader truly cares about anymore. Not to mention, there’s no doubt that after everything Twin!Reader’s been through before and after being Jokerized they have constant nightmares, even some night terrors, and the only one there for them is their loyal hyena. It’s there to curl around them protectively, to give them a warmth they’re not used to and a sense of being looked over that they’ve never felt before. I can even see the hyena bringing the Reader snacks to remind them to eat and take care of themself.

I can really see the Jokerized!Twin!Reader being thrown into an all out breakdown if their hyena died, especially if it died protecting them (whether from the batfamily or some rogue rando). That was their only friend, the only thing that truly ever cared about them and now they had nothing anymore. They had no one. They were lost all over again. If any of the batfamily members had anything to do with the Reader’s precious hyena’s death there would never be any forgiveness. If someone else were the reason for the hyena’s death than the Reader wouldn’t think twice about killing them and getting revenge for their beloved companion. Either way, no matter who caused the Reader’s hyena’s death I can see the batfamily all trying to subdue them from enacting any revenge on whoever. No matter how feral and berserk the Reader is in the moment, no matter how hard they fight, how hard they hit, I see Bruce, Jason and Damian especially not letting go of them. They hold the Reader the entire time, unrelenting in their grasp no matter how hurt they get in the process. If the Reader is as unrelenting as they are then they’ll have to knock them out. From there the family will take Jokerized!Twin!Reader home, where they’ll be safer, where the family can watch over and be there for them.

After their breakdown, there is no way in hell, Damian and Bruce especially will be able to go on with the Reader not being with them. Seeing how absolutely destroyed they’ve become, how much of a broken husk they’ve been turned into after everything they’ve been through, Damian and Bruce can’t allow anything more to happen to their sibling/child. No matter what it takes, how long it takes, Damian and Bruce aren’t giving up on Jokerized!Twin!Reader. They will save them, they will put them back together again. They will be the family that the Reader should have had all along.

God forbid if Ra’s was there to see his precious grandchild breakdown like that in front of him. Damian and Bruce be damned, he’s taking them home with him and Talia will be thoroughly dealt with for her part in all of this, in destroying his pride and joy.

[metranart]

The sound of Hawk's voice was something you still hear when you close your eyes, undertones of something deeper, something similar to devotion... almost too caring... asking you to bare his children and become completely and irrevocably, HIS.

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 14)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

Hawks felt like a glorified asshole for keeping an eye on you instead of doing his patrols. But he couldn't help it... he was just drawn to you like a magnet. Now, you were the gravitational force of his entire universe.

A loose gray sweatshirt covered up to your thighs, it was large and easily hid your identity. Those honey marbles that he called eyes, followed you closely bouncing from solitary tops of buildings, wondering where you were going in such a hurry and with so much stealth.

"What are you up to, baby bird?"

After all the commotion created in the dorms the night the Nomu attacked you, the last thing you wanted was to attract more attention.

The days to come it was difficult to find a moment alone especially with how overprotective your friends got, but you finally managed to shake them off a little, making up a credible enough excuse to go out alone even when Bakugo insisted proficiently on tagging along. 

You reassured him, and quickly claimed that your parents wanted to see that you were okay in person. Actually, this web of lies was only due to you didn’t want Bakugo by your side when going to the drugstore in search of that, vital and inculpatory, item. 

You moved at a fast pace; it surprised you how sharp you were even when had been unable to close your eyes for the last nights. The thought of already being carrying Hawks' child in your womb plagued you mercilessly.

“I'm gonna stuff you with my chicks, you are gonna look soooooo pretty all swelled and heavy…” you remembered his words, you could even feel his warm breath against your ear.

The sound of his voice was something you still hear when you closed your eyes, undertones of something deeper, something similar to devotion... almost too caring... asking you to bare his children and become completely and irrevocably, HIS.

“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little wifey, waiting for me—” he had claimed, reverently—as if you were meant to be his most prized person, “...round belly, full of my chicks and big, pretty smile on your face,” his daydream, way too chaotic, way to visceral… “-SO ready for me to fill you again.”

Your favorite Hero had come inside you more times than you could keep count, since you stopped doing it when he reached five. 

You even remember, now like a bittersweet and faraway, fond memory…. that Hawks was your first sexual awakening, at the tender age of fourteen, it was his golden curls and his captivating, carefree smile, that had made your heart skip a beat, that had set your hormones on fire... he, alone had been the protagonist in your first sexual fantasy, your first masturbation session in the privacy of your room, your first fictitious boyfriend, your first crush with a man-.... So, was expected, that this situation should be a dream come true for you, but it wasn't…. Because you were no longer a naive and dreamy girl, and he was no longer the idealized, unattainable Hero. Everything had fallen into place in the most painful way possible.

“Here you go miss, thank you for your purchase." 

The cashier replied as dry as a martini, prejudice peeking out of her cold stare, to which you only gave a soft thank you. Without a doubt, she and her unjustified reaction was a clear example of what to expect in a teenage pregnancy.

 A heavy sigh escaped from your lips as you left the drugstore, you hated the situation you were in. The contents of the paper bag resting on your hand, your best kept secret so far, or so you thought.

Keigo’s skin crawled, the entire time you were inside the drugstore. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the winged hero felt like throwing up. He had used one of his feathers with a hidden microphone, so he could listen to what you ordered at the pharmacy, and his fists had clenched almost homicidally when heard you order 'morning-after pills' and a pregnancy test.

You were his mate, Goddammit! You were supposed to be happy and proud to sport his seed inside your tummy. Hawks sulked feeling highly wounded and offended, and not just for this… but also for yesterday's incident. That Bakugo guy was brazenly prickling at his infinitive patience, the bastard had overstepped his welcome yesterday and now, Hawks got him on his radar. 

The winged blond paced from side to side like a bull seeing red, like a lion caged… yet eventually, after seeing how miserable and slouched you looked while searching for a public bathroom to make the test, his heart softened for you. 

“I’m the worst trash that ever existed," The blond chastised himself, "nevertheless, I'm HER trash now."

Hawks didn’t even try to deny his bizarre infatuation. He, almost proudly, admitted that this was not the end for the two of you- 

He gifted you a month out of the graciousness of his heart, even when he doubted his ability to keep that promise. You were freely looming, in his mind, taunting his every thought. 

So, he kept watch, waiting for something he didn't even know what it was. Nevertheless, his watch has begun, and it shall not end until his dying breath. 

His mind had been set. You were his and he was yours, he could easily overpower you no matter how hard you tried, no matter who you ran to, what you did to try to protect yourself.... there was nothing you could do to stop him, and that simple truth was what was keeping him at ease. Granting you certain freedom from his iron grasp, from his sharp claws.

Finally, you found a public bathroom and ran in, this time the winged hero chose to give you the privacy of urinating on a stick, alone. You deserved that much. So, he patiently waited on the nearby roofs, he would then go get the pregnancy test from the garbage can, without a doubt, you wouldn't take the proof of his sin back to the dorms. So, all he had to do was wait.

You pee on the blessed plastic stick and wait. The instructions said one minute but you felt like two hours had already passed.

"God! Can't this take any longer?!" You complained loudly, nerves eating you alive. The minute passed and suddenly all your courage disappeared along with your desire to know the result.

The plastic stick left abandoned on top of the sink, you just had to take a look at it, but you couldn't move, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t fucking blink.

What was there would change your life three hundred and sixty degrees.

"Dammit!" you heard yourself curse, burying your face between your hands to massage your temple burdensomely, "...Grow a fuckin' pair and be done with it, (Y/N)-"

"-If you want, I can tell you the result."

You suddenly heard a bubbly voice say, and your hands fell from your face to reveal a girl standing there. A cute brunet with something akin to a smirk, or a very self-indulgent grin on her face.

“I really don’t mind,” she giggled, all teeth and bubbly energy, “nor I will judge you, I’ve been there myself.” Her smile twisted reassuringly, and you sighed, embarrassed at having to resource to a stranger to do this.

“You are way too kind but-”

“Don’t overthink,” the girl stepped closer, offering you her best winning smile, “I’ll look and then you can tell me if you want me to tell you the result, okey?” 

Somehow, her odd and unrequested company felt better than face this alone. You ended up, nodding stoically and she peek at the pregnancy test.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” you repeated, quizzically. “Is that a good ‘Oh’ or a bad ‘Oh’?” your voice sounded weird even to you.

The girl cracked a wide smile taking the test in her hand. “Well that depends on you, do you want to be a mommy or not?”

You heart fluttered awkwardly at the bold use of term mommy. You shook your head anxiously, and she hummed in understanding. 

“I see.” The girl conceded in a weird resignation, “too bad, you're so pretty... they would have been very cute children."

Oxygen refilled your lungs again, and you felt as if your life with dreams and hopes, was turned back on. A devastating feeling of relief washing over you.

“Thank god!” you beamed with so much relief, you even felt like hugging this opportune strange, girl. “That means, I’m not with child.”

“Nop.” She corroborated, handing you the test back, yet you refused to touch it.

“I don't want to have one of those in my hand again for a long time,” you admitted, honestly, “you can throw it away.”

“Sure,” the girl did, and after an unholy and vast blast of thank you’s, you parted ways with your anonymous hero. Almost skipping on your feet all the way out.

“Thank you again.” You screamed back, once at the exit door. “Sure, it was my pleasure...-” You left, and the door slowly swayed until it closed completely, and the girl added, “-(Y/N).”

Once alone, she reached into the trash can and retrieved the pregnancy test, giggling the whole time.

"A heroine-to-be shouldn't be so trusting." A macabre smile spread across her face, and she tilted her head at the test in her hand, "...I wonder why Dabi is so interested in Hawks' toy?" Toga wanted to rip her face off, but she had chosen one so pretty that decided to stay in costume a little longer. "Well, it doesn't matter, Dabi said he’ll pay me for this, anyway."

Still, in disguise, pocketed the pregnancy test and left without raising any suspicion. 

Hawks kept pacing on the roof, desperation clear in every stomp of his boots. He was doing his best to be patient while searching. The blond had been looking for the evidence for more than half a day, the damn pregnancy test, he sent a dozen of his feathers in search of it, but nothing... had you taken it with you? One would only keep a test if it was positive, right?! Were you pregnant with his nugget?!?... Was he really that lucky?

“Hawks, where are you? over.” His radio came to live, once again and this time felt he couldn’t dodge his Hero responsibilities anymore, “We have not had any communication from you all day, over.”

Hawks inhaled sharply before answering. “I am on surveillance, please do not use this channel unless it is an emergency.”

“It's not an emergency, but I thought it was prudent to let you know before accepting, over."

The night was already upon him, and the cleaning man was just leaving his shift. Hawks sighed, heavily. He had lost his chance to find anything. 

"Speak."

"You have to say over when you finish talking." Hawks deadpanned; he wasn’t in the mood for this.

"Speak." He repeated, sternly, patience close to its limit. The person on the other end sighed, "UA Academy is calling for reinforcements for this year's sports festival, over," the voice on the other end said and suddenly he felt very interested, "continue."

The radio biped again, "They fear an attack from the League of Villains, since yesterday someone managed to throw a projectile through the shield and break a gym window,” Hawks listened attentively, an impious smirk slowly twisting his lips up, apparently his little outburst had had interesting consequences. The person on the other side continued, “and therefore, they request the help of Pro-heroes to avoid any incident. Endeavor, Mirko, Best Jeanist and Ryukyu have already been confirmed," the voice explained, "I think It would be an overkill if you were to-"

"I accept, confirm my attendance immediately." There was an awkward silence before the radio biped again, "Are you sure? We have no intel of an attack from the League, you would be the first to know, I think they are overreacting-"

"Better safe than sorry."

Long silence, and then.

"If you say so, over and out."

The memory of yesterday's incident made his blood burn again, he knew it wasn't your fault but that of your little friend: Bakugo, that shameless son of a bitch, that made him foam at the mouth like a mad dog, it made him want to kill someone... it made him need to get even, and suddenly, the blue eyes and stapled skin of his lover in turn, spark in his brain... Dabi could take it, he'd even love it.. Hawks left the roof in a rush of crimson feathers and sent a text message.

Hawks. -

See you at the agreed place.

Dabi. -

So fast, birdbrains?

Hawks didn't answer, just heading to the agreed upon location.

-

“Give it here, Toga.” Dabi entered the room where Toga was upside down on the couch, scrolling through her cell phone. He needed to close that before meeting Hawks. "...I assume you have what I asked for?"

Toga sat up straight and stretched her back soundly, before answering. "I got it," she assured, "...where's my payment?"

Dabi took out a box of fine sweets, from the best store in town. Store that at this moment was being put out by firefighters after the sudden and unsuspected electrical short that set it on fire. If only.

"First give me the evidence and I'll give you the box." Dabi offered with a bored grimace, and Toga pulled the coveted item out of her backpack.

"At the same time?"

Dabi shrugged, unconcerned. After both snatched the precious items from each other’s hands in a quick exchange, the pregnancy test rested in his scarred hand. Without ceremony, Toga ripped the box open and stuffed her mouth, making her words difficult to understand.

"Why aw-re you interestwed in Hawks' girlwfriend?"

A pierced eyebrow rose on the dark-haired man's face. 

"How many lines for positive or negative?" the turquoise-eyed asked, openly ignoring her ramblings. 

Toga shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, I never knew how to read them." She admitted in all honesty, stuffing her cheeks with more candy.

Dabi grimaced, and luckily for him Kurogiri’s timing couldn’t be better. The dark purple mist appeared out of thin air behind the bar. Misty's hands beginning to clean glasses, absentmindedly.

"Oi Kurogiri, do you know how to read these things?"

The dark purple mist's yellow eyes stared sharply at the item in his hand before meeting his eyes for a brief minute, and then returning his gaze to the pregnancy test. "I have some knowledge about it."

Dabi stepped closer, handing him the test. Kurogiri’s eyes fixed on the stripes and Dabi’s lips pursed, unable to know if he was smiling or scoffing when he ended up saying quite politely.

"Congratulations, Dabi."

COMING SOON PART 15....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts @kezybear

[seasidefallenangel]

“what was your family like?”

the question causes dazai to freeze in his tracks, in the middle of grabbing a bag of chips from your cabinet. you’d never once asked something like this, anything about his past life at all. he was immensely grateful for the fact you’d let him reveal parts of himself over time at his own pace, leading to the comfortable spot in your current relationship. 

until this moment, that is.

with a nervous laugh, he calls back out to you, “why are you asking, hm? do you plan to offer them a dowry in exchange for my hand in marriage?”

deflecting an undesirable situation was a specialty of his in most cases - those of which generally didn’t involve you. unfortunately for him, you had become rather proficient in the vernacular and signs of dazai-ese, and can easily tell what he’s trying to do. even so, nothing about your tone nor body language indicated anything forceful ; rather, it was similar to as if you had questioned him about dinner plans or that one faulty fire hydrant near your house.

“obviously not, dumbass,” you snorted, scrolling on your phone for a bit before finishing the thought, “i was just curious. neither of us ever talk about it.” those words struck yet another horrible truth in dazai’s mind - that despite how much he desired as such, he did not know every last detail about you, every thought that ran through your head, every movement you would make before your body reacted. he was well aware he had never heard about your family from your own mouth, but the reason as to why hadn’t necessarily crossed his mind until this moment. and well, if he were to ask you the same but refuse to answer the question you originally asked, he’d seem a bit too hypocritical.

he finds his way back into the living room where you lay on the couch. you pay him no mind as he sits across from you, gazing at your figure and the simplicity of what you two have shared. it was almost too natural - the progression of acquaintances to friends to whatever exactly was going on now. the word “boyfriend” had never spilled from your mouth in reference to him, but what else would you call someone that you essentially live and share a bed with every night for months on end? that you get a good morning kiss from when you wake up and give a goodnight kiss to before drifting off? were all the outings you had classified as dates, or just two very close friends hanging out constantly?

dazai disliked not having answers, but he hated the idea of asking you for them even more.

as he watches you relax on the couch, dazai comes to the conclusion that he probably hated you as a whole in some alternate life ; even in this one, had you been unlucky enough to know him 5 years prior. you were so polarizing in the sense that you accepted everything as it came, never tried to fight the reality that had been thrust upon you. whereas dazai had struggled to understand his own humanity, or lack-there-of, you embraced it and never bothered to deny what was truly in front of you. to say he was jealous of you sounded a bit childish in his eyes, but there was certainly something about you he wanted to take and give to himself.

“i’m all ears, my love. tell me about the people who graced me with such an angel as yourself!” he responds in hopes that you’ll give in and let him avoid revealing the painstaking truth once more.

you quirk up an eyebrow with a sardonic smile and shake your head, resting back on the arm of the couch. “i’ll tell you once you tell me, deal?”

… dazai supposes he’ll have to live in ignorance about your family for the time being.

[wordstome]

symbiote König x reader

I'm not allowed to start any new aus/stories until I finish a few, but I need to expel these worms from my brain. (also remind me to write something about Eddie Brock/Symbiote Ghoap x reader later)

I don't know if you guys know much about Venom lore, but symbiotes don't have a default system of morality: they take on the same traits and moral values as their hosts. They were created as a sort of world-conquering mindless evil force, but when symbiotes bonded to hosts who wanted to do good, they took on those moralities and became ashamed of their purpose. After they imprisoned the dude who made them to be evil (Knull, btw) they just made up a lie that their species was naturally benevolent.

So picture this: symbiote König who's been captured alongside several others of his kind and brought to Earth by the Life Foundation to study their abilities. I like the idea of symbiote König being similar to Eddie Brock's Venom: he's had bad and good hosts, but the bad ones fucked him up really bad, so now he's the König we know: arrogant and confident in his proficiency in violence, but deeply awkward, lonely, and lost. Getting kidnapped and taken to yet another foreign planet to be poked and prodded and experimented on is just his luck.

But then there's you. A pretty little scientist, not much more than a lab assistant, really. Your first encounter with him consists of you touching a finger to the glass of his prison, and him, curious, moving himself to press his inky dark goop where your skin presses against the glass. You giggle before quickly remembering yourself and skittering away. Symbiotes aren't fond of sounds, but he wouldn't mind hearing that one again...

It's little encounters like that that endears you to him. It didn't take him long to decide he hated humans: they're slow and unintelligent and nowhere near as elegant of a killer as he is, and yet they've managed to trap him and torment him. He's quickly noted as being the most unpredictable and violent of the captured symbiotes. But he likes you, who visits him and talks to him. To you, it doesn't mean much: you may as well be talking to a lab rat, finding an outlet to vent your frustrations about your insane work hours, demanding managers, and meagre pay. To him, he's absorbing everything you tell him, longing to touch you without glass in the way. What would it be like to bond with you, he wonders? To merge symbiote with flesh, and become two moving as one?

He'd like to be inside you, in more ways than one perhaps.

He may have fucked that up, though. It wasn't his fault, that day. They were starving him, these idiotic humans, starving all of them. He had no choice but to eviscerate and wholly consume the poor man sent into his glass cage. But you had been watching, eyes wide in terror, as blood and viscera burst everywhere. If he had a heart, it would have ached as he watched you skitter away...

And yet...there may be something deeply wrong with you, just as there is something wrong with him. Because you're back the next day, a new fascination in your eyes. Instead of talking at him, you talk to him now, asking him questions he only wishes he could answer. If he could just reach you, he could communicate...

König gets his wish the day it all goes awry. A whistleblower breaks in and makes off with one of his breathren, and the next person to stumble upon the scene is his little scientist, who doesn't hesitate to start smashing the glass of his prison. "It's not right," you mutter over and over again. "It's not right..."

He can detect your heartbeat speeding up as he drags himself across the floor to reach you. You shy away out of instinct, and he pauses. There are alarms ringing out now, awful terrible loud sounds, and he would prefer to get out of here immediately, but he refuses to do anything that would drive you away for good. He watches as you heave a deep shaky breath, then reach out a hand to him.

He glides up your hand and wrist, working his way into your body, the symbiosis instant and easy. You're a perfect match. He knew you would be. The armed guards burst through the door, but you have nothing to worry about as he envelops your body. You become a six foot ten behemoth, face hidden by what almost looks like a veil—something he picked up from a former host. You're barely aware of what's happening, too overwhelmed and confused to parse what's going on. But he knows what he's doing.

After he gets you to safety, the two of you will have all the time in the world to get to know each other.

[soulessjourney]

Vengeance Trail

Paring: Billy the kid x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: You and Billy had known each other during your younger years. However, following an argument, you departed to forge your own path, leaving things on bad terms between the two of you. Years later, circumstances led you back, having been recruited to assist John Tunstall. As the war drew nearer, tensions resurfaced between both of you.

Warnings: Slight mature themes nothing too detailed, Billy not knowing how to make up his mind

A/N: So this was supposed to be one long drabble but I got 4k words in and wasn't even half way through so I will now be turing this into a small series.

Your life hasn’t been easy. For years, you had to fend for yourself, even as a young girl. At such a tender age, loneliness was your constant companion until you met him—Billy McCarty, as you knew him. It all began in Kansas, just days after their arrival. His mother, a kind and gentle soul, his rowdy and energetic brother—these were the first faces you encountered. But Billy stood apart, calm and soft-spoken, especially towards you. Little was known about Billy’s father except for his ailing condition upon their arrival. When he first encountered you, you weren't dressed like the other girls in town. No, clad in a simple, dirty white cotton shirt and brown-stained trousers, mud tainting your braided hair, you were as fiery then as you are now.

Billy swiftly became your closest friend after your initial meeting, and the two of you were inseparable. You stood by him during the loss of his father, just as he stood by you when your parents abandoned you for greener pastures. The McCartys became your surrogate family, and you were willing to sacrifice everything for them. After his father's passing, the McCartys decided to seek new opportunities in Santa Fe, extending an invitation for you to join them.

As your new life unfolded in Santa Fe, you chose to assist Billy's mother at the inn, doing everything in your power to ease her workload. You shielded her from advances made by older men and helped restore order after brawls erupted in the bar. But over time, Kathleen and the others grew distant. She met a man who prompted her to move in with him, taking the boys along, while you remained stuck living at the inn, toiling tirelessly to make ends meet. As you and Billy matured, a shift occurred between you two—a growing chasm that led to that pivotal, fateful night.

Standing in your room, you tucked your shirt into your trousers before slipping on the boots. "Y/N, don't do this. You're not thinking straight," Billy urged, positioned near the door to impede your departure. Rolling your eyes, you tied your hair back with a ribbon, keeping the strands from obscuring your face.

"It doesn't matter, Billy. My decision is final. I can't spend my life here in the inn or aiding you in poker, especially after what happened with Carlos," you retorted, arms crossed, referencing the tragic incident that occurred last time you attempted to help him. "This can't be my life anymore. I have no family, and constantly fending off the advances of older men isn't the future I want."

"You have a family, Y/N. We're your family," Billy insisted, attempting to reason with you, taking a step closer.

"You're not my family, Billy. You ceased being my family when you left me here to work for my bed," you replied firmly, brushing past him to retrieve your gun belt from the nearby chair. If there was one thing you appreciated about Billy, it was his lessons on shooting, and you had become quite proficient.

Billy followed closely, his voice growing desperate as he tried to persuade you. Moving around his brother and acknowledging Kathleen with a nod, you stepped into the night air. "Fine, leave. But where will you go, Y/N? You don't know how to survive out there on your own. You'll end up dead in a ditch, and I can't bear to bury another friend," he implored, quickening his pace to block your movements.

Shaking your head, you reached your horse, a striking brown and white paint, and began fastening your belongings. "I'll figure it out, Billy. I grew up alongside you. I'm confident I can handle myself. But I'm tired of stagnation. What happened to the Billy who dreamt of running away with me, exploring the world? You're not the same friend anymore. I'm happy for you and your mother, but I need to discover who I am, and I hoped you'd support me in that," you murmured, pausing your actions, refusing to meet his gaze.

Waiting for a response that never came, you mounted your horse and rode off into the night, leaving Billy behind, watching you vanish from his life.

---

A few years later, you had earned quite the reputation, becoming one of the most renowned outlaws. To conceal your past, you adopted a new alias, known to many as Sadie Bennet, while others foolishly dubbed you "The Wolf," a title you found entirely absurd but resigned to endure as there was not much you can do besides complain. One of your crew members had rationalized the nickname, claiming it suited you because you tracked your targets before striking, often appearing as a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Seated not far from the bar, your hair cascading down your back, you leisurely sipped on whiskey. "Ms. Bennet, I assure you this deal will benefit you. Your marksmanship is unmatched, and we desperately need your expertise. Mr. Tunstall won't rest until we secure your assistance. While we may not match your previous compensation, he's vowed to collaborate with you to clear your name," the man before you spoke. He appeared relatively young, likely just a few years older than you.

Setting down your glass, you arched a brow, sucking air through your teeth. "Mr. Bowdre, I appreciate the offer, but as I've reiterated, a petty power struggle isn't in my best interest," you stated, adjusting the suspenders chafing against your skin beneath the blue plaid shirt. "If Mr. Tunstall is genuinely in dire need, he should make a personal appeal. His absence leads me to believe otherwise."

Charlie ran his hands over his face, growing increasingly desperate, an almost amusing sight. "He's away on business, Ms. Bennet. That's why he can't request your services in person," he explained, using a word that made it seem as though you were peddling yourself to men, a notion that irked you.

"Very well, I'll consider it. There's not much occupying my time currently. I'll head to Lincoln County in a few days. There, we can convene and discuss details further. I have a few loose ends to tie up here before departing," you announced as you stood. Noticing his instant relaxation upon your agreement made you ponder just how desperate they were for your aid. Retrieving your hat from the table, you brushed it against your brown trousers to rid it of any table dirt before placing it atop your head. Tipping your hat, you offered a faint smile before pivoting on your heel. "I'll see you in a few days, Charlie. Ensure Tunstall is present; it would be nice to meet him after your vivid descriptions," you remarked, striding out of the saloon, unaware that accepting his offer would soon thrust you back into the life of a close friend.

---

As promised, you arrived in Lincoln County a few days following your conversation with Charlie. While making your way toward town, you were intercepted by Charlie himself, evidently waiting for your arrival. "Ms. Bennet, welcome! We were starting to worry that you might have had a change of heart," he greeted you as you turned your horse to face him, a smile gracing your lips.

"Nonsense, Mr. Bowdre. I may be many things, but I always keep my word. I said I'd come, and I intend to follow through," you replied, meeting his contented smile as he guided you toward his house. Though the ride had been somewhat lengthy, the scenery was undeniably picturesque. Looking up, you caught sight of an eagle soaring above, circling twice before disappearing. Closing your eyes, you reminisced about the last time you had seen an eagle. It was just after your departure from Santa Fe, when illness had nearly claimed you. Lying on the ground, an eagle had soared overhead, and you'd tracked its every movement before succumbing to sleep. Days later, you'd awoken in an unfamiliar bed, unsure of your whereabouts.

"Mr. Tunstall will be delighted to meet you. We have a few others more directly involved in our operations. They'll also be present to greet you. Don't be put off; some of them relish being intimidating," Charlie's words interrupted your thoughts, eliciting a soft laugh from you. Shortly after, you arrived at a small ranch, where a woman stood waiting. Radiant and evidently excited to greet the man beside you, you assumed she was Charlie's wife, judging by the ring adorning her finger and her joyful expression upon seeing him.

Dismounting your horse and patting her gently, you followed Charlie toward the house. Taking a deep breath, you entered and glanced around. It was a lovely, well-organized home—neither too crowded nor too sparse. Charlie guided you into the living room, where you paused, noticing a group of men engaged in conversation. Some appeared older than you, while one around your age gazed out the window.

"Mr. Tunstall, gentlemen, I present Sadie Bennet," Charlie announced, prompting the men in the room to straighten, catching their attention. The young man by the window turned towards you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Standing before you was your old friend, Billy McCarty, though markedly different from your last encounter. Life had evidently molded him into a hardened man. His widened eyes and the way he uttered your name revealed his surprise and disbelief at seeing you again.

Tunstall scanned you before removing his hat and extending his hand in greeting. "Ms. Bennet, I've heard a fair amount about you from Charlie, including the challenge it posed in persuading you to assist us," he remarked, his smile softening as you firmly grasped his hand. Indeed, you hadn't been the easiest to recruit, having encountered Charlie multiple times before, his persistent attempts at recruiting you finally wearing you down.

"I apologize, Mr. Tunstall. I wasn't initially certain about joining this endeavor. However, Charlie's persistence eventually led me to agree. I hope my delayed acceptance didn't hinder your plans too significantly," you offered, ignoring Billy's intense gaze as he positioned himself beside you.

"That's quite alright. What matters is your presence now, and your skills will undoubtedly be invaluable. Now, allow me to introduce you to the others," Tunstall said, shifting his focus around the room. "This is George," he gestured to the man on his left, "and you're already acquainted with Charlie." Charlie offered a reassuring smile, leaving only one person to introduce.

"Finally, we have B—" You abruptly interrupted Tunstall, turning to extend your hand.

"William Bonney, it's a pleasure to meet you face to face. You're quite the celebrity; I was concerned about competition for the title of most notorious outlaw," you jested, noticing a subtle change in Billy's expression. Unsure whether it was anger or disappointment, you shrugged it off. Arching your eyebrows, you awaited his response, but as he made no move, you scoffed and turned back to Tunstall. "Well, as famous as he is, he certainly lacks manners," you grumbled, crossing your arms, eliciting a surprised cough from Charlie, who attempted to suppress a laugh.

Billy cleared his throat and shook his head. "I apologize, Ms. Bennet. That wasn't my intention. I was merely surprised to encounter a fan. It's delightful to make your acquaintance. Please forgive my lapse in manners," he said, his gaze fixed on yours.

"Oh, I'm not a fan, Mr. Bonney. Just pleased to meet the most wanted man in several counties," you shrugged, distancing yourself from him. "Mr. Tunstall, can we discuss my involvement privately? I won't commit until we've reached mutual terms," you proposed. Tunstall nodded, dismissing the others, and you shot a lingering glance in Billy's direction. Removing your gun belt and placing it on the table, you settled into a chair. "Tell me the details of my role."

Tunstall positioned himself opposite you, crossing a leg over his knee and folding his hands. "As you're aware, there's a feud between Mr. Murphy and me. He's a power-hungry man, exploiting the land and its people. He indebts them, then employs unsavory means to seize their property. I'm sure you're familiar with his tactics." You nodded, feeling a simmering rage within. "We aim to confront Murphy, reclaim the land, and provide these people with the rightful homes they deserve without enduring such hardships. I require your skills to assist in taking him down. You and Mr. Bonney will offer exactly what's needed to dismantle Murphy's corrupt hold."

As you reclined in your chair, Tunstall's words raced through your mind. This man was willing to fight and die for a cause—bringing a better life to Lincoln County—and he sought your aid above all. "Alright, let's assume I agree to assist you. What assurances can you provide? I'm not interested in money; I seek something more secure and dependable," you challenged, noticing Tunstall's surprise, though it didn't shock him, especially given your reputation.

"I can offer you an opportunity to clear your name. As far as I'm aware, you're wanted across at least four counties, three of which have bounties on your head. However, by assisting me and transitioning away from the outlaw life, I can advocate for you. I'll speak to judges, emphasizing your change of heart and commendable actions, working to eradicate those bounties against you," Tunstall proposed. The offer held undeniable appeal. Clearing your name from charges that weren't your doing in the first place seemed like a tempting prospect.

Nodding, you contemplated the offer more deeply. "Very well, I accept these terms. I'll collaborate with you to take down Murphy and assist in your objectives. But it's crucial that you uphold your end of the deal, Mr. Tunstall," you affirmed, running your fingers through your hair. "Now, could you tell me further about William Bonney?" Tunstall's eyes brightened as he eagerly briefed you on what he knew about your former friend.

---

That evening, you lay outside, your coat serving as a makeshift pillow while your gaze remained fixed on the stars. A gentle cool breeze kissed your cheek and nose, while the nearby fire crackled softly. Your eyes flickered open as the sound of footsteps approached, halting beside you as a figure settled down. "I didn't expect to see you roped into all of this," Billy spoke softly. "Honestly, I thought you were gone for good until I spotted your wanted posters everywhere. Who would've guessed you'd dig a deeper hole than mine, but I suppose stubbornness runs in your veins, so that's no surprise," he said, glancing down at you.

Sitting up, you drew your knees to your chest and released a sigh. "What do you want, Billy?" you asked, pressing your lips together tightly. "Don't expect anything from this. I'm here solely to clear my name, not to mend something that shattered a long time ago," you added, redirecting your gaze back to the starlit sky. Billy sighed and fiddled with his fingers, uncertain of his next words.

"I tried to find you. After my mother passed away, and I was falsely accused of a crime, I searched for you. I assumed you'd moved on to another town or two, but you were nowhere to be found. Then I kept hearing about this remarkable woman named Sadie Bennet—how impressive she was, especially for a female outlaw. It wasn't until I saw your wanted poster that I knew it was you. Part of me felt relieved, but another part wanted to keep searching," Billy confessed, joining you in gazing skyward.

"I wasn't far when Kathleen passed. I'm sorry for your loss; she was a remarkable woman," you began, "I knew you were alright, still alive, as people talked about you often. Imagine my surprise when they accused you of murder. I couldn't believe it because you were always about settling disputes, not escalating them to violence. No matter how much I might have disliked you, I couldn't believe those allegations," your words struck a chord, leaving him silent.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he uttered quietly. "I took advantage of your presence, assuming you'd always be there for me, even when I distanced myself. You were a constant in my life, and I took that for granted. Life turned into hell after you left, and realizing my mistake hit hard when I didn't have you to turn to anymore. Joe was furious with me for weeks; he blamed me, rightfully so."

"Don't blame yourself, Billy. I left because I needed more than the life we had. Our rift was just one part of why I left; it's not solely on you," you said, meeting his gaze filled with sorrow. Wanting to comfort him, you hesitated but then pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Stop looking so forlorn, Billy. You're not alone; there are people who care."

Billy wrapped an arm around you, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent. "The reason I regretted it so much was because I was in love with you. You meant everything to me, and you showed me what it felt like to be truly wanted," he whispered softly, tightening his embrace. You remained silent, uncertain of how to respond to his confession. When you attempted to pull away, he shook his head, drawing you closer. "Please, just listen. I was so deeply in love with you that my mother was helping me gather the courage to confess my feelings. But then you vanished, leaving me with unspoken words and a heap of regrets."

"Billy," you murmured, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. "You carry so many burdens and regrets. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You didn't deserve to feel alone, and I regret leaving you in that state. I had feelings for you too, but when you distanced yourself, I took it as a sign and fled like a coward," you confessed, feeling his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb caressing your skin. Lost in each other's eyes, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

His lips felt weathered against yours, yet the kiss conveyed volumes of unspoken emotions, making you disregard any roughness. Your fingers entwined in his hair, gently tugging on his brown locks, and a subdued moan escaped as he pulled you into his lap. Breaking the kiss, Billy placed a tender one along your jawline before meeting your eyes. "Let's head inside. It's getting late," he murmured, guiding you along. Pausing just outside the spare room, he kissed you again before ushering you inside, where the evening was spent memorizing each other's bodies and sharing quiet confessions.

---

The next morning, the sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. Stretching your arms, a smile naturally spread across your lips. For once, you felt truly rested, and the usual ache in your back was noticeably absent. Sensing movement behind you, you felt an arm around your waist draw you closer. Memories of the previous night flooded your mind, and you suppressed a smile as you turned in bed to meet Billy's bright blue eyes. "Good morning," you whispered, gently cupping his cheek.

His lips curved into a sleepy smile as he tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Good morning," he mumbled back, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. Pulling away, he nestled his head on your shoulder, his arm holding you tighter. "Do you think we should come clean about knowing each other?"

Running your fingers through your hair, you pondered his question. "I'd say we might have to. There's hardly any believable excuse, especially after last night," you chuckled, placing kisses along his jawline. "But we should probably get up and start our day," you sighed, only to squeal as he playfully rolled on top of you, tickling your sides and eliciting high-pitched laughter.

After some playful moments and shared affection, Billy rolled off and got up, heading to the small bathroom. Lying on your stomach, you observed him dressing and attempting to tame his tousled hair. Catching his gaze, you noticed a flicker of something before he grabbed a black shirt from the wardrobe. Handing it to you, he sat on the bed, tracing his fingers over your exposed back. "I'll head downstairs while you get ready. I'll try to hold them off until you're ready to face the grilling," he said with a playful eye-roll, making you stifle laughter in the pillows.

Eventually, you sat up and planted a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll see you downstairs, cowboy. Don't let them chew you up," you teased, rolling out of bed. As you started dressing, you ran a brush through your hair, noticing the red marks on your neck and collarbone. Groaning, you tilted your head back, silently blaming Billy. Once dressed, you made your way downstairs, overhearing hushed whispers. Some sounded teasing, while others seemed more disgruntled, likely discussing you and Billy. Walking into the room, you stood behind Billy, resting your hands on his shoulders. "Good morning, gentlemen. How was your night's rest?" you greeted them with a wide smile that faded as Billy distanced himself from your touch.

Charlie greeted you with a small welcoming smile while Tunstall settled into the chair at the table. Positioning yourself next to Billy, you observed him, puzzled by his sudden shift in emotions. "Sadie, or should I say Y/N, what exactly is your relationship with Billy?" he asked. Part of you hesitated, uncertain of what to say, as his expression demanded nothing but the truth. Before you could respond, Billy interjected.

"There's no relationship. Last night, we both had a bit to drink which led to events that should have never happened. I want to apologize for our actions. We have more important things going on, and we should have been more careful." His words hit you hard, and your face contorted into a mix of horror and shock. It was a mistake—this whole situation. Just moments ago, he appeared content waking up beside you, but now you felt reduced to a mere error. Clenching your hands into fists on your thighs, you bit the inside of your cheek to restrain any comments on the brink of escaping.

"Billy is right, Mr. Tunstall. We both got carried away, and I'll ensure it never happens again. I allowed myself to become too vulnerable around someone, and I shouldn't have." You managed to force the words out, your voice strained. "Now, if you boys excuse me, I need to tend to my horse and maybe explore the town to familiarize myself with the area," you grumbled, rising abruptly and causing the chair to scrape against the floor.

Charlie stood up swiftly. "I'll join you. Perhaps I can give you an overview of the town and how everything operates." You nodded at Charlie and left the kitchen, purposefully avoiding looking in Billy's direction. Charlie followed closely, slowing his pace as you reached the horses.

"What truly happened between you and Billy? Anyone who can read a room can tell that you're more than just a drunken mistake. So, what are you to him?" Charlie inquired as he mounted his horse.

Swinging yourself onto your horse, you shrugged. "I thought I meant something to him, but I should've known better than to believe his words. I apologize if things were awkward this morning, Charlie. That wasn't my intention at all." You offered him an apologetic smile as he joined you on horseback. A part of you wanted to cry and vent your frustration after Billy's sudden indifference. You had opened up to him and comforted him, only to be discarded once again. Last night felt too perfect to be true, but it hurt to realize that you had exposed yourself only to be hurt in the end.

Charlie shook his head and regarded you as the two of you began riding towards town. "You don't need to apologize, Y/N. Sometimes people change, and sometimes they change in a matter of minutes. All you can do is look ahead and move on. You're a wonderful and kind young lady. Billy just doesn't know what he's doing," Charlie consoled. Part of you felt weak for letting Charlie comfort you, but his words resonated and lingered in your mind. He was right. You couldn't let this consume you. All you could do was fulfill your duties and keep moving forward.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

The Type of Yandere König Is

Warnings: 18+, Toxic Behaviour, Manipulative Behaviour, Gaslighting, Possessiveness, Implied Smut, Non-Explicit Implications of Smut, Toys Mentioned, Degradation, Slut-Shaming, Submissive König, Dominant König, Aftercare, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

SFW

Insanely loyal and loving – wolfishly puppyish in his temperament.

For you, and only you, he shows his soft side; acts of domesticity and kindness are his love language.

Though, he tells you he loves you on a nigh-hourly basis.

“I just can’t seem to stop saying it – I love you !”

He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses this knowledge to his advantage.

He’ll all but read your mind through subtle physical cues – changes in posture, a shift in the atmosphere, the dilation of your pupils – to do for you what you haven’t even thought of doing yet.

Passing you your drink, cooking you a meal, performing your chores for you – anything you can possibly think of doing or needing, König handles it before you can.

Of course this insatiable need to perform is rooted in love. But it runs much deeper than that.

König needs you – so utterly and unequivocally that it frightens him. And the thought of you leaving and taking his heart with you is infinitely more terrifying to him than having to put his life on the line and indulge in his occupation whenever he’s taken off leave.

König wants you to see that you need him as much as he does you, that you should (and will be) dependent on him not just for your happiness, but for your survival.

This desire to be all that you need becomes especially evident a good year into your relationship; when you trust König more than anyone – more than yourself – he takes that trust and runs with it.

He absolutely gaslights you into believing you’ve misplaced things, done things you haven’t done. While this is a good enough excuse to keep you in the house, he’s not above resorting to most outlandish tales to isolate you further, no matter how ludicrous his ‘reasoning’ may seem.

“You want to go out ? Now ?” he’ll say. “But–” he peeks behind the curtain, looks out the window, “Darling, it’s raining.”

“König, I can hear the sun shining, Köni; it’s not raining.”

And all to keep you dependent on him.

Whether or not you take to König’s lies is up to how much you love him, how well you believe you can live without him.

But just know that, if you ever try to leave him – when you are immune to his persuasion and elusion – König has made people disappear before. And he’ll do it again.

NSFW

This man will be anything you want him to be – it doesn’t matter how demeaning it is.

Whatever mood you’re in, he has something to cater to it.

Cat ears, maid outfit, gags, rope, nipple clamps, whips – you name it, he’s let you use it on him.

So long as you’re enjoying yourself, so is he. 

He literally can’t finish until you do. So for both love and sanity’s sake, he’s a very proficient lover.

Definitely a moaner when he’s subbing – his whines and whimpers are so pretty and breathless that you can hardly believe they come from such a behemoth of a military princess.

This paints König out as a rather submissive breed of boyfriend, which, to the untrained eye, would be a fair observation.

However, you know better. Much better.

But that doesn’t stop you from making ‘mistakes’; little slips of the tongue – or the hand – that make his blood simmer and his eyes narrow, a jagged anger building in the periphery of your day-to-day.

Building and building, a monument that could touch God with the faux patience this man grants you – “One last chance, Engel,” to hold back the monster clawing its way out of König’s body.

Making König jealous or angering him ensures you’re the target of his reprehensible rage for the stretch of night ahead.

And when König snaps, he gets dominant.

Everything you’ve used on him, he uses on you, too.

And he does so without mercy.

Every time he’s topping, he’s got you weeping, sobbing, screaming, begging for more and less at the same time – and more often than not absolutely speechless for the fact that your mind is completely empty by the time he’s halfway through with you.

Definitely degrades you. And he is not gentle with it at all.

“Stupid little whore – filthy fucking slut –” things of that nature.

Treats you as his personal cum dumpster; he just fills you and fills you until you look or sound as if you’re about to burst.

But alas, it matters little how much you tell König you “Can’t take anymore–” because he’ll always find a way to make you take more of him.

“Oh no, Sweetheart, you will take more,” he’ll tell you.

“After all, what good are you to me if you can’t handle my load ?”

The night usually ends with you being bruised and sore and swollen after your excursion with König; marks which hurt to the touch for days afterwards. A deterrent.

However, no matter how badly he roughs you up during your time together, he always makes sure to take care of you afterwards – of any needs, no matter how niche.

And as he’s tucking you into bed, your body unconscious, König hopes that nights like these remind you that you belong to him. And he to you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[utilitycaster]

You've mentioned a few times about Matt making this the Moon Plot Campaign and the cast not realizing it was the Moon Plot Campaign and how the characters aren't necessarily the best for a Moon Plot Campaign and I'm just curious: if you could pick what type of character build the cast played to best fit a Moon Plot how might that look?

Oh man I think I've answered this before but I will always answer it again because my answer is evolving.

The first two things are just general advice:

In retrospect I think Matt should have treated this campaign as sort of a semi-module format. If you will be playing a module (eg: Curse of Strahd, Call of the Netherdeep, etc), your DM should tell you this and essentially say "you can have your own character struggles - in fact you should - but they should be largely internal/things that can be addressed without you going on an extended quest." For example, you can (and should) play a character in Curse of Strahd who is struggling with self-esteem, or religious faith, or cowardice; but you can't have a character who, to address these things, must confront their father, because they're going to be in Barovia and he's not going to be there. I recommend checking out the rivals in Call of the Netherdeep, because their throughlines are great examples - they' develop and engage with the story, but it's very much driven by the plot of the story and not a delving into their backstory. So essentially, have simpler backstories or backstories that inherently tie into the quest, and let the players come up with that by giving them the most spoiler free outline. I think Matt tried to do all that tying up himself, and at times it made things a little too pat; or those characters who had elements that couldn't be woven in as gracefully (Chetney and the Gorgynei; Laudna with Delilah; some of Ashton's stuff) got very brief arcs so we could get back to the main moon plot.

Do not dump intelligence. DO NOT DUMP INTELLIGENCE. Have at least one PC in your party who is not just intelligent but like, educated. Percy, Beau, and Caleb all fit this. Chetney's pretty smart but not terribly educated so he's great at investigation but he's not going to do very well on religion checks. This party should have had a fucking wizard or artificer or cobalt soul monk or knowledge cleric, but also every party should unless you're going full murder hobo. I think it's valid to be into actual play (or d&d itself) for the character moments and the romance but you know what makes that possible? FIGURING OUT WHAT'S FUCKING HAPPENING INSTEAD OF DICKING AROUND CLUELESSLY. My one true house rule for myself as a DM is that one person in the party has to have high intelligence (or like, be a bard or rogue with decent intelligence but expertise/jack of all trades in everything). Play a high int character for the sake of your DM, PLEASE.

On a more specific note:

would have been good to have more Marquesian characters, but also someone from the Empire would have added a significant dimension. I do love Chetney, and I think Travis is the player who pivoted fastest to fit better within this campaign and has a good understanding of what it could have been with a bit more commitment, but yeah I think if Matt had told them a bit more of what was going on he'd have made like, a more serious werewolf member of the Gorgynei who had noticed lycanthropes becoming susceptible to Ruidus and decided to investigate, for example.

I think having more divinely aligned characters would have just made for much more fun interactions. The issue with the god debates wasn't that they were having them, for all I think that anyone who wants to kill the gods is a fucking idiot. It was that none of them knew jack shit about what they were talking about so it turned into an unending Emperor's Nose discussion. Having either someone who was actually trained (a la Braius, who is a welcome addition for this reason, among others) or again just. a person with religion proficiency and a decent INT score would have made it an actual compelling argument of different perspectives, and not a bunch of idiots yelling out nonsense.

It honestly wouldn't have looked much different. In fact, I think you could have kept the bottom table mostly as is with just tiny alterations, and done the following:

Make Chetney a Marquesian member of the Gorgynei with a mission tied to investigating what's going on with Ruidus. He could still be a weird woodworker.

Entirely rework Laudna's premise. You could have kept her creepy and undead, even, but get rid of Delilah and make her a wizard instead. Make her tied to the Grim Verity or an archaeologist who got kicked off the Tishtan site. You could even keep her aligned with Imogen although I'd have made it a more recent meet up of her being on the run and having gone through Gelvaan in trying to avoid the Grey Assassins

I like what happened with FCG ultimately but I think a different subclass would have still helped; make them a knowledge cleric and more intelligent.

Make Imogen and Ashton much more aware of the Apex War and Otohan's history from the get go. Also give Laura a heads up that her character's going to be super central and she will be in the hot seat for much of the campaign.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Jaime Lannister Headcanons:

❝ He kept saying… burn them all. ❝

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

General Warnings: Angst with comfort, Trauma, Mentions of Incest, Mentions of torture, Mentions of sex

A/N: Sadly this got taken down before so this is a redone version :( This isn’t an identical list to the previous one but hopefully more detailed!!

Redemption Era:

> Jaime has been through hell and back. The disillusionment of everything he ever pushed away setting in and he doesn’t feel worthy anymore.

> He could masquerade his regrets with his ego for so long. Failing innocent after innocent, he could hold himself in high regard for the one thing people shames him for most: Being a Kingslayer, as he knew it was for a good reason.

> But being so long away from his family for months on end, being a captive prisoner who was constantly berated and abused, and being mutilated, he’s become a shell of himself.

> Being with him in these moments is an uphill battle because he simultaneously craves being loved but pushes you away constantly.

> He doesn’t know how to be loved outside of how Cersei treated him. After all, he was infatuated with his sister but it was a constant toxic push-and-pull relationship.

> Jaime is more closed-off, more stoic and perhaps a more temperamental even. He would hesitate to even entertain the idea of intimacy with anyone.

> Then those feelings start to build and he’s confused. He’s not an idiot nor blind—he knows when someone is objectively attractive but he’s never acted on intimate feelings because he was loyal to Cersei. But now he’s treated with disgust for his lacking hand and you’re still there.

> Jaime would simply stare for a while at you. Trying to figure out why you. Why couldn’t his eyes keep away from you?

> He would imagine what it would feel like to be with you behind closed doors. To hold you and touch you when everything and everyone was shut out besides you two. But who wants a one-handed man?

> You would have to be the one to initiate. He’d hesitate and flinch away at the close contact at first before giving in and softly meeting your lips.

> He's incredibly gentle with you. It's as though he worries he could break you with the slightest touch.

> "It is not that I wish to be away from you. But I feel as though... I do not understand how to love the right way anymore."

> Jaime is slow to open up, if ever within the first few months and it's understandable as to why. Even in this state, he has more faith in you than anyone else.

> Jaime's main Love Languages are: Acts of Service and Quality Time.

> Jaime wants to feel useful even with his missing arm. If he can do something for you even without it, he considers it “proving his worth”. :(

> This can be any sort of thing that he can be of assistance in so long as it helps you out in some way.

> Jaime would be more than happy if you asked him for help in something. He's dropping everything he's doing for you immediately.

> This would also include in the bedroom. Highly doubt Cersei wouldn’t have taught Jaime what felt good for women or not so he’s quite proficient in pleasing you. It’s one of those moments where he can brag.

> “Still good with this hand, love, don’t you worry.”

> While he can be busy or taken up by his duties, that is why quality time is so important to him. He wants specific, well-thought out, dedicated time just for the two of you.

> Often times, it may be a lunch or dinner of sorts. It's time just for the two of you to talk with no interruptions.

> He's also a fan of the lingering moments after bedding, wrapped in each other's arms. There's something about the warmth of each other's bodies in the after-bliss that just melts him.

> Jaime’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.

> Unfortunately, due to Cersei’s treatment of Jaime through their own relationship, Jaime values himself through sexuality.

> He feels something is wrong if sex is not on the table at each interaction you two have. It takes a while for this to be unraveled.

> Touching him in an intimate and romantic manner: holding his cheek, brushing through his hair with your fingers, kissing his scars, etc. has him confused.

> He stares for a while blankly and can feel himself for once feel something he hasn’t in a long while: fear. Such affections were unknown to him in the way you did them. They weren’t for favors, manipulations, or to be used for selfish gratifications. They were for him to know he’s loved.

> Jaime can honestly cry at this. Just going limp in his posing rather than having his shoulders back and head high and planting his head into your chest or on your shoulder and silently crying.

> Another thing is reminders on how loved he is. He’s more uncertain of himself. He is still a Lannister, don’t get me wrong. He keeps an ego and level of confidence to him. But he’s not sure as to if he’s doing well by you.

> A compliment on his sword skills while he’s sparring has him returning to that cocky grin he always used to have while brushing it off as nothing. Inside, he feels warmth in his chest that he’s still good at that with his left hand.

> Admiring his body even with his missing hand is initially met with disbelief and disregard. No one looks at a one-handed man and says anything good. Slowly over time with you though, and it puts a warm smile on his face.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[sinkovia]

Black Market: III

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of sexual assault, mention of Simon Riley's canon backstory, light angst.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

A few weeks passed and with thousands of dollars now sitting in your bank account, you began to reassess the deal you had made with Simon, realizing that it wasn't as terrible as you had initially thought. Slowly, you found yourself lowering your defenses and growing more at ease in his presence and the space around you.

Simon respected your wish to not accompany him on contracts, so you found yourself reluctantly harvesting organs from someone he had killed just minutes ago. It was a grim task, but you saw it as the least you could do for him being so cooperative with your demands.

As you worked, Simon leaned against the counter, watching you tear apart the insides of the man and carefully placing his organs into iced containers. "Thought you wanted to save lives? Here you are tearing into a man I only killed minutes ago," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"You offered me twenty thousand knowing I'm in desperate need of money. You're a sick man, Simon," you retorted, continuing your work without missing a beat. Simon simply smiled, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

He looked at the dead man split in half on the table and then to you, marveling at your focused precision and fast hands as you expertly took him apart.

"You think you could've brought him back?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. You smiled as you took out the last part, carefully placing his heart in the ice chest and sealing the container shut. Then, you turned to Simon, your smile lingering.

"I know I could have," you replied confidently. "But he would have been brain dead."

With that, you took off your gloves and sighed before heading up the steps to your bedroom for a much-needed shower. Simon remained in the basement, his mind swirling with questions about you. He had never cared for anyone before; his life had revolved around accepting contracts and killing people for money. 

No socializing, no interests, no curiosity for other people. But you were different. There was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him want to peel back the layers and uncover your past.

Simon formed a plan in his head to extract any sliver of information from you that would allow him to delve into your history. He needed to know what made you such a skilled doctor at such a young age, considering that medical school takes years of study and experience to achieve the level of proficiency you display. 

You were lying in bed, engrossed in the book that Simon had so graciously bought for you when the savory aroma of garlic and herbs wafted into the room.

Your stomach grumbled in response, prompting you to abandon your reading and make your way to the kitchen. Simon looked up as he set two plates down on the dining table.

"Made you dinner to make up for earlier,"

You raised a skeptical eyebrow as you surveyed the meal before you, but your doubts vanished the moment you took the first bite. "Holy shit, I didn't think you knew how to cook like this," genuine surprise evident in your tone.

A smile tugged at Simon's lips at your reaction. "Wanted to be a cook when I was younger," he admitted casually.

Which hadn’t been a lie, when he was younger he dreamed of opening his own restaurant.

Your eyebrows raised at his revelation. You hadn't expected him to be so open about himself. Relaxing into your chair, you took a sip of wine before sharing a bit of your own past. "I wanted to be a florist."

Simon's interest was piqued, finally getting a glimpse into your backstory. "Florist to surgeon? Pretty different occupations," he remarked, taking a sip of his own wine.

You laughed as you finished your glass and reached for the bottle to pour yourself more. "From a cook to a hitman?" you teased lightly.

Simon grinned in response. "Fair enough.”

Curious about what had steered him away from his childhood dream, you prodded gently, "What steered you away?"

Simon's expression shifted briefly, a flicker of memories passing through his eyes as he glanced down at his plate. "Different circumstances,"

Reflecting on your own past, you nodded in understanding. "Yeah, me too," you murmured, the weight of shared experiences hanging in the air between you.

As the evening wore on and a few more glasses of wine were shared between you and Simon, you found yourself loosening up. Eventually, you began to vent about your past jobs, particularly about a hospital where the nurses were brain dead fucks. You launched into a rant about all of them, each one seemingly worse than the last.

Simon listened intently, his grin widening as he realized the wealth of information you were unwittingly providing him. With each complaint, he mentally cataloged the names and details, knowing that he now had enough clues to get a glimpse into your past.

That night as you slept upstairs, Simon delved into the depths of the internet, scouring through various websites until he stumbled upon a list of old employers associated with your previous job. It didn't take long for him to piece together the missing parts of your identity, and soon enough, he discovered your last name.

Simon navigated through the dark web, his fingers typing in your name with a mixture of curiosity. What he found made his stomach clench.

Before him lay a website, one he was all too familiar with, an organization specializing in sex work. As he scrolled through, he saw old listings featuring you, offering your services for hire. He glanced away when he clicked on a link and saw pictures of you dressed in scant clothing, your eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

You were only a teenager, no older than seventeen.

His eyes read over an old listing offering a hefty reward for anyone who could locate and return you to them. 

It didn't even cross his mind to entertain the idea of betraying you. In his eyes, you were worth infinitely more than any sum of money or reward. As he sat there, reflecting on your past and the horrors you endured, he couldn't fathom the thought of dragging you back into that nightmarish world.

Your value to him went beyond any material gain, your skill as a doctor made you irreplaceable. And as someone who understood the pain of being used, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting you to that kind of life again.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair, everything suddenly made sense, your reluctance to work for him, your aversion to joining him on contracts.

He hadn't expected you to be remotely tied to the black market, let alone be a victim of it. He had unknowingly brought you back to a world you were desperately trying to escape.

You find yourself unable to sleep, plagued by a throbbing headache that refuses to go away. Desperate for relief, you make your way down to the basement in search of Advil, hoping it will alleviate the pounding in your head. As you reach the last step of the basement you see simon at his desk with his back turned toward you.

Your eyes glance at the computer screen and your heart plummets.

Images of your younger self, captured and exploited, sold into a life of servitude and suffering. The shock of seeing your own face reflected back at you in such a vulnerable state leaves you reeling, the pain in your head momentarily forgotten in the wake of this unwelcome intrusion into your past.

"Happy with what you found?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, your voice tinged with bitterness. Simon's startled expression told you he hadn't anticipated your arrival, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and guilt.

"Just wanted to know who you were… wanted to know why you didn’t want to work for me," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the screen, the images of your younger self serving as a painful reminder of the horrors you endured.

"Sometimes people want their lives and past to be private," you murmured, your words heavy with the weight of years of suffering and trauma.

Simon knew that feeling better than anyone.

"I'm sorry," Simon offered, his apology hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

"No, you're not," you muttered bitterly, turning away and ascending the steps. As you disappeared from view, he sighed heavily, sinking back into his chair.

“Fuckin hell.”

The next morning, you found Simon waiting for you with breakfast prepared, a silent acknowledgment of his attempt to bridge the gap between you. Awkwardly, you took your seat at the table, the tension between you thick as you both ate in silence. The weight of his invasion of your privacy hung heavily in the air.

But then, as if unable to bear the tension any longer, Simon spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of his own past.

"The reason I didn't pursue my dream as a kid was because I enlisted in the military… my captain sold me out and I was captured, tortured, and used... anything to break my will and force me into blind obedience to their commands."

"I escaped," he continued, "After being buried alive and digging my way out with the jaw of the rotting corpse I was buried with. I made it home, went to therapy, and fixed my family troubles."

As he spoke, you could feel the weight of his trauma, the scars etched into his very being. "My teammates were also captured, but they were brainwashed. When I returned home one night, I found my family dead, my former team being responsible for their deaths. I hunted them down with the help of the black market and killed them. Since then, I've remained in this line of work.."

You sat there in stunned silence, his words sinking in like heavy stones in a pond. Simon continued to eat as if what he had just revealed was just another fact of life.

In that moment, you realized he already knew so much about your past; perhaps it was time to lay it all bare. With a heavy heart, you met his gaze, finding a shared understanding in the depths of his eyes.

“I was seventeen when a few men broke into my house one night, dragged me and my parents into the living room, and made me watch as they tortured my dad and had their way with my mom before killing the both of them.”

Your focus shifted to the small droplets of water falling against the side of your cup, each one mirroring the weight of the memories you carried.

“I was sold around before I made my way to the organization you were looking at last night. There was a group of us, we were sold to different men for our services.” The room fell silent as you paused, your gaze dropping to your lap for a few moments.

Simon, ever perceptive, sensed your discomfort in revisiting those painful moments from your past. “You don't have to talk about it, love,” he said gently, his voice carrying an understanding tone. “I understand—”

“A lot of the girls were rebellious, so they would get taught lessons,” you cut him off, your voice carrying the weight of each painful memory.

“That's where I learned how to patch up the girls with very little supplies. The man in charge noticed, so he made me start patching up the men who worked for him.” You picked at the skin around your nails as you furrowed your brows. Simon’s gaze never left you, his eyes bouncing over your facial expressions.

“Their injuries weren’t just simple scratches and cuts. They would get stabbed, or shot, and when I failed to save one of them, he made me watch as he tortured one of the girls, killing her slowly as my punishment… It happened two more times after that. I wasn't a fucking surgeon, I didn't know what I was doing.” you recounted, your now fingers picking at the hem of the place mat, the memories still haunting you.

“My lack of skill resulted in the deaths of three girls. I spent five years there, playing doctor for him when he needed it and earning him money with my services. During one of my transports for a service, the car was attacked by one of their rivals, which allowed me to escape. Now I'm here.”

The weight of those years is heavy in your voice. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a shared understanding of the pain and suffering you both carried within you.

"I became skilled out of necessity; failure meant the death of innocent girls."

You took a deep breath before locking eyes with him. “I'm sorry about what happened to you and your family. You didn't deserve that."

You paused for a second before continuing, "I wish you never enlisted.” His brows furrowed as he studied your expression. “Why?”

“Because you’d be working at some restaurant, and I would have never met you or been dragged back into this business.” Simon exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair.

“You're safe here. We're nowhere near Russia, and if someone tried to fulfill the contract, I’d be here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows, your voice tinged with confusion. “What contract?”

“There’s an eight hundred thousand dollar contract open to whoever can deliver you back to Finn.” Your expression twisted with disgust at the mention of his name, recalling the fear he instilled in you for years.

“When was the contract posted?” Simon shook his head. “Years ago.” You nodded slowly as you picked at your food with your fork.

“I'm sorry, for digging into your past and dragging you back into this, you didn’t deserve that. If you want to leave you can.”  You smiled and scoffed, “And pass up a free bodyguard, free five-star meals, and easy money? Yeah right.” Simon laughed and you smiled.

“Resourceful girl.”

“What can I say.” 

You finished off your breakfast with a comfortable silence and some light back and forth about a new contract Simon was thinking about accepting. Simon picked up both plates and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher.

“A colleague of mine is coming in two weeks or so, he’s going to help me with a contract.” 

You hummed and nodded your head, “Where is he going to stay?”

Simon grabbed a bowl of fruit out of the fridge and started picking at it. “He’s staying here.” You furrowed your brows and leaned against the counter next to Simon, your arm grazing his slightly as you reached for a strawberry in the bowl.

He watched as you brought the plump strawberry to your lips, looking away before you glanced back up at him. “What’s he like?”

“Don’t worry, you're safe around him, he is Scottish though.” You lifted your brow as you looked up at him, “Is being Scottish bad?”

“Bastard will talk your ear off.” 

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[calisources]

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All sentences has been taken from different media and soruces about life in the royal court, involving the introgue of succession, war, marriage, kings and queens and tournaments. Most of this are acceptable for all audience except one with some foul language. Chance names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.

You don't know a woman until you've met her in court.

A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.

And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition?

That's a question rarely asked here at court.

Court games aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just.

We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would make us believe .

Either you break the law, or the law breaks you.

There is no playacting in this court. If you stay your hand, they will cut it off.

Power does not pardon, power punishes.

Listen! The court jester's cap and bells. The King is coming!

He was a man with a vision- and an extraordinary vision it was.

The cat who lived in the Palace had been awarded the head-dress of nobility and was called Lady Myobu.

In every reign there comes one night of greatest blackness, when a King must send away his court of flatterers and servants, and sit alone in the dark with the beast called truth.

It is important to refuse to be intimidated.

They all come innocent in court.

Is that how you get propositioned at the court? 'Mylady, would you be so kind as to allow me to put my manhood in your vagina'?

They used to say that, in a battle between the lion and the tiger, the winner was the monkey, who watched from a distance.

Men love those creatures that need to be taken care of.

 If you want to tame a lioness you need to become a lion, not a goat. 

 A doe is easier to keep.

The woman did not care for empty compliments; to get such a woman, one needed to put forth effort.

I’m a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second . . .

Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia.

She calls herself the Queen of Narnia thought she has no right to be queen at all.

Plenty of people have told me you are not my father.

It is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly.”

Royalty is not a right, Captain. The willingness of the people to follow a ruler is what gives her power.

Here, in this place, by this people, I have been chosen. 

These men are tired of being told whom to follow. Now they have a choice, and they use that choice to call me Princess.

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. 

A prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art.

You should never have been only a little girl, you should have always been a crown princess.

You knew you would be sending me away?

A born king is a very rare being.

The world will need to know that I’m the last royal left. Their queen.

There’s royalty in me, but stronger than that there is adventure.

My life is the Crown and yours is politics, and I will not trade one prison for another.

Dignity is trained into royal children before they can toddle.

The first year of marriage is not always easy, especially within the Royal Family.

The real intelligence in the royal family comes through my parents .

The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind.

The royal road to a man's heart is to talk to him about the things he treasures most.

The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

The winner will marry the prince.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

That is acceptable. A king is a martyr to their ideals.

f I rule the nation as king, I cannot ask to live as a person.

A wise king never seeks out war, but... he must always be ready for it.

All men need something greater than themselves to look up to and worship. They must be able to touch the divine here on earth

I am the First Imperial Princess of the Misurugi Empire! 

You can tell she's a princess, she doesn't need a crown.

You, sir, are the most uncharming prince I have ever met! In fact, the only thing royal about you is that you are a royal pain.

No one ever told her "no." 

 In no time at flat, she'll get herself established as his official mistress, with her own rooms at the palace.

These men are my bodyguards, their lives forfeit to the guarantee of my physical safety. Of their loyalty to me, there shall be no question nor doubt.

Some balls are held for charity And some for fancy dress, But when they're held for pleasure They're the balls that I like best.

Be careful of what women with gowns plan, specially in a ballroom. 

The art of husband seeking is something every woman has been trained since birth.

Many wives and consorts, of course.

Who is to rule when I am gone? You are a princess. I have no son.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Did I not mention there was another?

A king must always have an heir and a spare.

He was born to be a king... He rules men just by breathing. When he walks into a room, he commands it. People love him.

Two knights off to rescue a princess. Sounds like a great song.

As the king's brother, you should've been first in line!

 I was first in line. Until the little hairball was born.

That "hairball" is my son, and your future king.

My parents were... rather traditional. They wanted the heir and the spare, and I was left in the cold.

It cannot be easy being the youngest prince. To have others expect nothing from you, yet still shake their heads in disapproval.

 If my uncle attacks King's Landing I'll ride out to meet him.

You are in need of serious princess lessons.

 You're the new ruler of Mechanicsburg. You need to act like it.

Every princess needs a battle axe. Here. Use this one until we find you something more impressive.

You know what they used to write on cannons? The last argument of kings. I guess you could say magic is the last argument of queens.

A tournament has been arranged in your name, so you must attend and make yourself presentable.

They hope to find me a husband here. They said I am already a woman bled.

[pietrosbulletsstuff]

Waking up pietro to ask him to help you fall asleep 

As you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours and hours until you finally decided to check the time.. 2:49 am read back. You turned over and looked at Pietro for a few minutes debating if you wanted to wake him. You've been debating about this for a while as you started up at the ceiling. You didn't want to bother him but you've tried almost everything to fall asleep. You tap pietro lightly a couple of times. You slowly started to become impatient. 

“Pietro” you say while tapping him lighting on his shoulder. 

‘What's the matter” his accent more proficient since he just woke up 

“I can't fall asleep" you say as you look at him with a slight pout. 

You make eye contact in the dark the only light source being from the small plug from the wall

he asks “well in what way do you want me to help? baby..” Touching the side of your face. 

“Pietro, you know how you can help me.. Please?” 

Pietro pretends to think for a moment– after what seemed hours you turned your back towards him- embarrassed nevermind 

Without saying anything you turned over pulling some of the cover with you, rolling your eyes.

    Pietro laughs as he jokingly asks you to turn over. you ignore him feeling embarrassed that this happened. He moves closer to you in the bed and says “Baby I'm sorry.. I know what you want.” while kissing your neck. “I just wanted to mess with you a little. That's all, I promise I'm sorry.”

You decided to give pietro the silent treatment. You can feel pietro sitting up in the bed moving towards the end of the bed but don't pay it any attention. As he gently lifts up your knee to and kind of moves you so you can lay on your back. He moves in between the middle of your legs; picking up your ankle and kissing it as he makes his way up. 

you take a slow deep breath in as Pietro asks, “is this what you wanted me to help you with? Hm? I wanna hear your voice, princess.” “Pietro…” you breathe out; he leaves purple bruises on your thighs. He starts kissing that area around the bruises briefly. 

 he stops and asks “do you forgive me?” while hovering over you; kissing your neck once again. “No.” You say. He takes that as a challenge as he says a smug “okay” with a smirk starting to grow on his face. “That's fine with me when we are done you're gonna forget why you were even mad at me.”

Before you can think of what to say back he attaches his mouth and you gasp. automatically your hands go to his hair which pushes him deeper into you. You knew he liked the feeling of your hands getting somewhat tangled in his hair. to be honest you liked it too because it gave you some sense of control.

 As your hand tangled in his hair you lifted your left leg up and put it on his shoulder. His tongue circled your clit before he fully took it in his mouth. Your back arched off the bed as you removed your hands from his hair and moved your right hand to the pillow under you and your left hand balled the cover where pietro once lied. Your eyes fell closed but they opened as soon as you felt pietro pulling away. You sit up on your elbows to see why he stopped. He reached up and pulled your hands back down to his hair. 

 When you finally reached your peak he put 2 fingers inside of you so you can ride out your high. You moved your hands from his hair to put them on his face as you gently brought him up to lean over you as you kissed him.

You reached down to pull his pajama pants down to return the favor but then he reached over y/n to check the time then looked back to you. This time leaning over you on his forearms so that all of his weight isn't crushing you- He said “you don't have to” “but i want to help” you said. He laid next to you and reached his arm around you to pull you closer. 

You can help at another time; now go to sleep he said as he kissed the side of your forehead. A few minutes later he turned his head towards you to find you asleep. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes to fall asleep himself.

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word count: 781 words

(I'm open to criticism as long as you're nice about it since this is the first thing I've ever written, also feel free to request i'll probably be putting up the list of people ill write for later)