#outcome 3 x reader

[eyelessfaces]

An Outcome 3 and/or Orestes moodboard?

we have so little about his character I did my best </3

🦐

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Ask The Question

Outcome 3 x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 3: Drinking Game

Summary: Truth or dare?

A/N: Opps, this is basically fluff. Thank you @thexsanctuaryx for saving my butt and beta-ing again!

Warnings: fluff, teasing, drinking, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 649

You take a shot, the whiskey burns your throat. You can’t remember if it’s your fourth or fifth, your tolerance having been consistently burned down during the course of the evening. 

There’s a pleasant buzz at the back of your head.

He chuckles, his dark eyes twinkling. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to answer that one.” 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so relaxed, without every single muscle tensed, posed and ready to strike.

You pull a face, “I have my reasons.”

“Which are?” Amusement dances in his expression.

You pause then shake your head. “Nope.” 

“That’s unfair.” 

“Is not.” 

He shifts a little closer to you on the floor, pressing his arm against yours, “Is too.”

Outside the wind is howling, the night dark and cold. 

The light from the fire plays across his skin dreamily. 

“I took my shot.” You gesture to yourself. “I’m playing by the rules.”

He tuts playfully, “How is, ‘Are you interested in anyone right now?’ so difficult to answer?”

“You can’t trick me, mister. I’m still not gonna tell you, besides it’s your turn.” 

“Fine.” He gives you an eyebrow raise and then pretends to think. “Truth.”

You pout at him for a second and then grin wickedly. “Are you interested in anyone right now?” 

He snorts.

“See?” You gloat. “Not so chatty now are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“The answer’s yes.” He gives you a smug smile. “Your turn.”

“What?” You splutter. “Who?” 

“It’s your turn.” 

“Hey-”

“Rules are rules,” he nudges your shoulder again, “and it’s your turn.”

You sigh dramatically. “Alright…” You know he’s going to ask something similar again, and again if you say truth until you’re too tipsy not to answer honestly. You swallow. 

Part of you wishes he wasn’t so beautiful, wasn’t so charming. That you weren’t hopelessly head over heels in love with him. 

But he obviously had someone he had eyes on. You tried not to let the disappointment that was tearing at your insides show. 

“Dare.” You finally say. 

“A kiss.” He speaks so softly you think you must have misheard.

“Sorry?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, breathless.

“A kiss,” he repeats, leaning closer until he can brush his nose against yours. 

“I…” You don’t know what to do, what to say, your mind racing and also unhelpfully blank. 

He reaches up slowly and lightly touches your cheek in a silky sweet contact. Your skin buzzes, practically hums where his fingers brush against you. 

“A kiss.” He says a third time, barely moving his lips this time as he tilts his head to the side and closes the gap. 

He kisses you softly, gentle and sweet like he doesn’t want to break you, but he groans when your lips move against his. His touch on your cheek grows firmer, his fingers slide down to cradle the back of your neck as he flicks his tongue along your bottom lip. 

This can’t be real, can’t be happening. You’d had too much to drink and passed out on the stupidly plush carpet. 

He hums against you, his kisses growing bolder, more demanding as he licks into your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own. He tastes like the whiskey and that stupid lemon you’d dared him to eat six rounds ago. 

His lips are softer than you expected, but as skilled and firm as you’d daydreamed of.

When he finally pulls back he keeps his eyes closed, a soft lovesick smile on his face. 

You swallow nervously, all words empty from your mind.  

“You can ask me that truth now.” He says softly, his hand still on your neck, tracing soft circles along your skin that makes you shiver deliciously and ache with want. 

“I…who are you interested in?” You finally stammer out, getting lost in his dark eyes. 

He kisses you again, lightly and whispers against your lips. “You, dummy.”

Thank you for reading!

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[ivystoryweaver]

Day 1: I'm So Sorry (Outcome 3)

Angstember Prompt Post || Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: hurt/comfort, violence, wounds, blood. Happy ending.

You had a job to do. It was him or you.

You parachuted in to the remote area of Alaska he occupied. Then came the miles-long hike.

Thankful for the good shape you were in due to your intense training, you made it to his cabin by dusk. Probably stupid to hike to your mark during daylight, but more foolish to hike during frigid darkness.

The cabin was hidden enough, and no smoke billowed from the chimney. He probably froze on the regular just to further hide himself. You'd never met a more stubborn or determined man.

Determined to win you, long ago.

You paused a moment to collect your thoughts and steel yourself. Despite your stealthy efforts, he no doubt already knew you were here.

You didn't make it one step closer to his doorway when a shotgun cocked dramatically behind you.

"I've been waiting for you."

God, it had been so long since you'd heard his voice. But you were trained to be stronger than to melt at the sound of it.

"Whatever you came to do, it's not going to happen. I should kill you for even coming here," he added. The rough anguish in his voice reached deep inside you to stir forgotten yearnings.

Now to accomplish an improbable task: getting him to trust you. It was either win his trust or end his life. And the latter was not an option for you, despite your mission's directive.

"I came here to warn you. To give you a head start," you told him, an unplanned waver shaking your voice.

You thought he would have recognized you before, possibly from behind, or from surveillance. His next action alerted you to the fact that it was your voice that gave you away.

He stalked in determined strides around to face you, mouth open, dark eyes glistening with betrayal. "They sent you?" He never lowered his weapon.

You swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of him after so long apart - the years and the environment making him more ruggedly handsome than you could have imagined: stunning brown skin and inky curls against a curtain of white winter.

"I volunteered," you carefully admitted.

He withdrew, as if stung...wounded. "Why? It could have been anyone else."

Resisting the urge to approach him, you hoped he would listen. "Something's happening. They're...eliminating people. So many. Operation Outcome is being erased. I volunteered for this. To warn you. To get you out."

He shook his head, his stubbled jaw clenching. "Show me your weapons. Slowly."

You nodded, carefully removing several guns and daggers before holding your hands back up in surrender.

With a slight tip of his head, he indicated you should go inside. He motioned for you to take a seat at a creaky wooden kitchen table, securing your wrists before searching you for more weapons. The feel of his hands, even through your snow suit, sent memories flooding through your mind and body.

He found a dagger you neglected to produce outside. The corner of his mouth curled. "You used to keep this one on your right thigh."

That was back when both the dagger and you belonged to him.

He didn't arm himself to interrogate you, but simply leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms over his sweater covered chest. In another setting, he would appear almost cozy.

"You said you're here to warn me, but we both know that's not true," he said, regarding you carefully. "So, how far behind you are they? Or did you come to do the job yourself?"

You shook your head adamantly. "I'm here alone. This is my mission." Tugging against your restraints, you groaned. "Look, this is all the help you're going to get. They'll send a drone if I don't report back. They'll kill us both."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here." His eyes traveled up and down the curves of your bound body. "You really needed to see this through, didn't you?"

"I stayed with the company. That doesn't mean I want you dead," you passionately argued. "You're the one who - "

"Shh!" He hissed, extending his arm to hush you. Glancing at his security monitors, he realized a drone had arrived to fire on the cabin. With determined strides, he took your dagger and flicked it through your bonds.

Hauling you out of the chair, he dragged you out the back door, screaming at you to run.

A concussive blast sent your bodies flying, partially deafening you. Your world went black.

You awakened in cold darkness, save for a small, crackling fire. Attempting to talk, it came out as a whimper.

He shushed you, but gently this time. "I didn't know if you would wake up," he confessed, scooting closer to you.

His voice sounded garbled and everything hurt. He brought water to your lips and encouraged you to keep drinking small sips. He offered you a bite of the rabbit he killed, but your stomach roiled in protest.

All you wanted was to sleep.

"I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. You can't go back to sleep. Not all night anyway."

You didn't remember much except that he seemed to keep waking you up and asking you simple questions to check on your concussion. He also coaxed you to drink each time.

Dawn broke and you realized he was asleep with you, holding you. Your body quickly remembered the safety of his embrace and you sank into him gratefully. Even out here in the wilderness, he still smelled so familiar.

You felt physically awful, but marginally more clearheaded. At least enough to notice a scrape marring the side of his beautiful face. His lip was split and there was no telling what else might be wrong underneath his bulky sweater.

Brushing thick, dark curls away from his eyes, you gazed longingly at the man you used to love.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your head hurting too much to cry. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

His eyes flickered open and he flinched, seeing you so close.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you soothed. “It’s just me. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

You reached for his face. "I couldn't let them kill you."

He managed a weak smile, reaching for the hem of his sweater. With difficulty, he raised the hem of the wool, as well as the thermal shirt underneath to reveal a sizable shard of metal lodged in his abdomen.

"Too late to stop that, I think."

Tears flooded your eyes as you inspected the wound with soft fingertips.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Kinda busy," he huffed, easing onto his back with a groan, his breath labored.

You needed a hospital. You needed a lot of things. But you just wanted him to live. That was the whole point of you being here. So he would live.

"Busy saving my ass, as usual," you tearfully nodded, yanking off your scarf to tie tightly around his abdomen.

"Don't think that's gonna help, honey."

You swatted his hand away. "You don't get to die on me. Do you hear me?" You grabbed his sweater, twisting desperately. "I'm now unemployed and as much of a fugitive as you are. So you don't get to leave me."

"Why did you come back? Thought you'd never forgive me." His eyes struggled to remain open as his dark curls splayed across stark white snow.

"Please don't leave me." You whispered his name. His real name. The one he told you so long ago, when he had you underneath him, your bodies joined as secrets spilled out.

It was the last thing he heard.

He woke up underneath a shabby, handmade quilt, smelling of mothballs, with you by his bedside.

"Oh thank god," you breathed, blooming to life at the sight of him conscious.

"Where...am I?" He rasped, his throat raw with thirst.

"You're safe," you explained, offering him a sip of water. "I used all my savings to have a very questionable man operate on your stomach. But you'll live." Smiling softly down at him, you brushed his thick curls away from his eyes.

He tried to sit up, but immediately hissed in pain.

"Take it easy," you instructed him gently.

His eyes landed on yours, dark eyebrows arching pleadingly. "So this means you forgive me?"

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his parched lips. "You left to save my life. And you almost died saving me again." Touching your forehead to his, you whispered his name again. "You're forgiven."

He smiled, relief crinkling the corners of his eyes before he kissed you back.

"Oh, and we're Canadian now, by the way. Gotta lay low...for a long time."

"The rest of our lives?" His eyebrows shot up inquisitively.

"Yeah," you whispered, "the rest of our lives."

Angstember Masterlist || Misc. Masterlist || Main Masterlist

[hoedamn-eron]

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day to all the parents out there! In celebration (and because I haven't managed to finish my Baby, Please Santi x Reader one shot), here are a list of my fics with daddy Oscar 😉😘

Sports Day - It’s your daughter’s sports day at school, and Jake decides to take part in the “dad race”. (Jake Lockley x Reader)

Baby, Please - Your dating life had been a range of fleeting moments and one night stands. You thought Santiago Garcia would be no different. (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Shut up, Kid - You awake to your first Mother’s Day with baby Bateman. (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

Bluey! - Nathan discovers your son’s favourite show. (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

Sick Bug - Silas is ill with a bug. (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

Oscar Isaac Characters as Dads (includes Nathan Bateman, Llewyn Davis, Blue Jones, William Tell, Laurent LeClaire, Basil Stitt, & Outcome 3)

I will eventually post that one shot, I'll make sure of it. Fingers crossed it's today!

[soulreader05]

Y/N : Me and Yuka were just crossing the street, and this guy drove by and honked at us.

David (Outcome 3) : **Sighs** What did Yuka do?

Y/N : She chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... well-

Yuka : I got a steering wheel.

[l0vergirls]

imagine jason comforting you, with his fingers carding through your hair and a secure arm around you, as you lean on his chest, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat.

he'd pepper kisses on the crown of your head and when he senses that you're getting lost in your thoughts again, it's okay, he murmurs, i'm here.

it's enough to ground you back to reality, reminding yourself that it's over, you're okay, and you're back in the loving arms of your partner.

you move around to face jason, yet you don't meet his eyes. instead, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. you feel his hold on you tighten the slightest bit, his entire being radiating warmth.

he knows you don't want to talk about it now, he's been the same way— he still is the same way whenever he's in your position,

so he holds you close, hoping you can feel what words cannot convey,

i love you, i'm here for you.

[ivystoryweaver]

@lunar-ghoulie4art @lunar-ghoulie his HANSOME SMUG FACE

his hands and that signature hairrrrr i want to gobble him

This lil story is so clever, i love it!

hey @reallyrallyauthor, he is reading the serial killer novel from your story Murder Story and ask, @angel-of-the-moons

Recent Drabble #1, enabled encouraged by @lunar-ghoulie and her incredible artwork

She’s been sent on a mission for Outcome-3, and her plan just isn’t working.

A.N: Ovulation is a crazy thing ain’t it 🤪

Themes: attempted seduction, momentary flashing

She picked her way carefully through the snow laden woods and whipping wind. Her ears strained for any noises besides the howling through the trees that’d indicate she wasn’t alone but to no avail. Eventually she finally found her target, a singular dark cabin, with a light smoke emanating from its chimney. He’s already here…

Her mission was simple, Outcome-3 had disobeyed orders and needed to be debriefed and eliminated. She didn’t ask the reason, truly it didn’t matter and she wouldn’t have been given one any way. She was given his weakness though, sex.

Her target had been known for sleeping with assets unnecessarily and being easily distracted with women, despite their training. Honestly she didn’t know how he hadn’t been weeded out of the program to begin with if he had a propensity for distraction. With the Intel that he’s been alone on this mountain for weeks, should be easy enough.

She cursed to herself silently as she approached. She had to adjust her strategy with him already here. He’d never be dumb enough to believe the old “civilian damsel in distress because she wandered too far in the woods” routine… but maybe, a sprinkle of honesty may do her mission good.

She took a deep breath as she reached the wooded edge and pulled out her knife. She muttered a silent prayer, pulled up the hem of her cotton underwear and cut each side, wiggling out of them while keeping her other layers on, step one done. She burried the scrap of fabric in the snow. Step two would not be as easy. She took a deep breath, relaxed herself, and cut swiftly into her thigh.

Careful to angle the blade to miss any major arteries but enough that she’d need stitching up.

“Please.” She huffed “I - I need -“ her knees buckled. His hand was lighting fast as he grabbed her arm, gun still steady on her in the other. “- help.” She controlled her breathing to come out more as a sigh.

“Get in.” He pulled her in, shoving her on the ragged couch next to the door and slamming it shut. “Who sent you.” He clipped as he bolted the door shut.

“Same as you - my mission -“ she lulled her head back a moment “another agent tried to -“ she slumped further feigning that her consciousness was slipping.

“None of that, wake up.” He tucked his gun into his waistband and patted the side of her face. She kept her gaze heavy and even crossed her eyes a bit before going completely limp. “Fuck.”

He acted quickly, attempting to assess the wound but the multiple layers of her pants and longjohns made it difficult “fuck it,” he grumbled, quickly undoing her pants and yanking them down. “Shit.”

It took everything in her not to smirk, take a good look.

Barely a second passed from his words before he pressed a blanket onto the wound to stop the bleeding. The sudden shock of pain caught her off guard and she jolted up with a groan.

“Goddamnit.” She ground out before flopping back onto the couch.

“Sit still.” He snapped.

She lay there, trying to look unfocused while she assessed his posture, body language, even where he was looking. Everything showing he was focused on the task at hand. Damn…

She groaned in exaggerated pain and spread a little wider. Just a glimmer of distraction, c’mon.

But despite her attempts, he remained focused, packed and bandaged the wound, and by the end of it had pulled her pants back up and peppered her with questions.

She recited her carefully prepared script, adding some stammering and pauses along the way. And by the end of it all it was the wee hours of the morning and he’d relaxed a bit.

“Satisfied enough for sleep?” She feigned weakly. “It’s freezing - and there’s only one bed.” She glanced over at the low fire. “We could… share warmth?”

His gaze flickered over her as he stood. He looked over to the bed, then back to her. Getting up stiffly and adjusting the sheet. “Fine.” He huffed.

She stood, pushing down the inner triumph she felt before he tossed a blanket and pillow in her direction. “You take the blanket and couch. G’night.” He laid across the bare fitted sheet and closed his eyes.

What the- okay well, HQ was wrong about how easy this should be… it’d take more than flashing him and playing weak to get his attention. And the blizzard showed no signs of letting up…

[whinesandwhimpers]

reader who doesnt stay exclusive with one person. right now, you're dating four guys, all similar in some ways but also different and just...perfect. They all dont mind that you're dating other guys.

If only you knew they're all teammates together.

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 1 <3

Oikawa & Titfucking

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 1,2 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"C'mon, you need to try a bit harder, beautiful," he taunts you, his voice sweet like honey, like a soft caress on your skin.

"Can I please touch you? Please, Tooru, I need you," you try to coerce him into giving into you, but he still smiles at you pitifully, not showing the slightest attempt to let your wrists go. "I don't think that was convincing enough. Maybe I just need to make you wait a little longer."

A hiccup gets stuck in your throat and you wiggle in the tight grip of his hand while his teeth graze against the shell of your ear. "How about this? You get to touch me, and I get to fuck these pretty tits of yours? Does that sound good?" His free hand gently traces the outline of your exposed chest, and a shiver runs down your spine at the small action. Your back arches, your chest pressing tightly against his bare one, and you nod frantically, hoping to ease him into giving you more- and he finally releases your wrists, his hands softly caressing your cheek and your arms before he moves both hands down to your exposed chest. You gasp when his thumb caresses your nipples, the bubs hardening under his skillful fingers, his touch soft, yet with just the right amount of pressure to have airy breaths escape your lips.

"You can touch me wherever you want, pretty girl." The kind smile never leaves his face as he cups your tits and presses them together, making sure to "accidentally" brush his fingers over your nipples a few times again, his eyes taking in every single one of your reactions, reveling in the way your breath stocks for a second. "Sensitive here, beautiful?" At this point you think it's impossible for Oikawa to address you without a sweet nickname, and all of them seem to directly reach to your core and make your heart flutter even more.

His adjusts his position, making sure that his weight is not crushing you, but still pinning you to the bed before he finally lines up his cock at your tits. You let your now freed hands wander to his thighs, that seem even more muscular and defined ever since the Argentinian sun has shown its effect on him. The lean muscles tense under your fingers, and your breath stocks for a second when he suddenly spits down on one hand and languidly strokes his cock, right in front of your face, coating your chest with a bit of his saliva too.

You roam your hands to his abdomen, feeling him flexing at your touch, a deep breath leaving his lips, as he visibly gulps and focuses on your face while he strokes his cock. "Please, Tooru- fuck my tits, and then fuck me, please-" you whine, your hands wandering to his chest and feeling his heart pounding under your fingertips. You pause when he suddenly releases his cock, his expression changing from relaxed and understanding to determined and greedy for the first time, and he abruptly catches your wrists on his chest to bring them down to your tits. You get the hint and cup them, and he nods approvingly at the lewd sight of you, bare under him, your hands cupping your tits and your thighs clenching together, your needy and desperate expression making his breath stock for a second. He caresses your cheek gently one last time before he presses his cock against your tits, that are now dripping and glistening with his spit, one of his hands guiding the tip between them.

A low "fuuuuck" leaves his lips as he starts to buck his hips and fuck your tits, the tip of his cock hitting you chin every now and then when he thrusts his hips extra hard. Groans and whimpers leave his lips as he starts to pick up his pace, and the sounds turn you on even further, his desperate groans making the wetness pool between your legs. His eyes constantly move between your face and the way his cock moves between your tits, eager to see all of your reactions, and you blush feverishly under his intense gaze. You press your tits even further together and loll out your tongue, trying to get a taste of him whenever he thrusts hard enough, and his jaw drops at the sight- the sight of his beautiful wife begging for more. "More Tooru, use me, please-" his pace gets even faster at your words, his hips now feverishly bucking against your body as he chases his high, both of you knowing that he will finish soon. One of his hands comes to rest on your shoulder, while the other grasps the sheets, the muscles on his arms straining from the pressure, and the desperation is clear in his eyes as he fucks you with no restrain. The sheer force has your toes curing and your body aching for more- more of him. "Fuck- just like that- I'll-" broken words escape his lips, his teeth digging into his lower lip while you moan his name and lick the tip of his cock whenever you get the chance to, drool now coating your chin and dripping down to your neck. The sound of his cock fucking your wet tits is lewd enough to bring even heat to your cheeks, and you squirm under him, your walls clenching at the thought of him fucking you like this next.

You feel him tense and see how his muscles pop out when he finally cums, coating your chin and your chest in white, the feeling of it so lewd and so dirty, yet so forbidden good. You can see how he turns even more feral at the sight, his hips bucking one last time, his balls loudly smacking against the fat of your tits before his body loses all tension. He takes a few deep breaths, his brown eyes fixed on the mess he made on your chest, barely able to look away from it. "Fuck, you look so hot like that, love." His eyes roam to your face and you suppress the urge to turn away- because the intensity of his stare makes shivers run down your spine. He notices the shift in your face and he is quick to bring his hand to your chin to turn your face to him and to lean down to connect your lips with his. "I love you. You're my everything." The soft caress of his lips makes you almost explode from love but also from the aching need between your legs that he still needs to tend to. You're pretty sure that he notices the way you rub your legs together, at this point begging for any friction to ease to your needs- and Oikawa knows exactly what you need.

A mischievous smile sports his lips when he pulls back, and his thumb collects some of his cum on your chin and brings it to your mouth, forcing your tongue down and making you swallow the liquid.

"C'mon now, pretty girl. Show me how ready you are for me. Spread those legs for me, and I'll make you feel really good."

[tojiscrack]

the dancing scene in the most recent chapter of liar, liar, MEGUMI BLUSHING FOR THE SECOND TIME AS HIS HANDS COLLIDE WITH HER WAIST, i’m crying so much rn. i have NO ONE to speak to about this fic, maybe it’s my period but i can’t get enough of them.

i don’t want them to go through angst, i just want it all to be fluff fluff fluff y’alllll. someone needs to make a fanclub or SOMETHING because it’s killing me how i have no one to speak to about this 😭😭😭

‘liar, liar’ masterlist here:

ik this message was sent in as early as yesterday, but i’ve been out all day and i’ve finally got the time to respond to it. apologies if i’ve left you waiting ☹️💓

i wanna start off by saying you’re literally the sweetest person to ever grace this planet. as i write this slice of life rom-com, i was hoping for the rom part of this com would take over in that scene, and if it’s got you squealing and giggling, ik my mission’s been accomplished 😇

“i have NO ONE to speak to about this fic” — YOU HAVE ME!!! 😤

message me, send me your theories, comment, like, reblog your thoughts, SPAM ME IF YOU MUST, i encourage all of it 😩 !!! i want to see long and juicy comments. small ones are amazing too, but ofc, the more, the merrier! it’s the best part about writing — and it helps me piece out what you like and don’t like so i can make this ride as enjoyable as ever 😗

you beautiful anon, this is the fan club. it’s a small little family of liars we have rn, but still a family nonetheless. don’t forget that 🥹 it does seem like a wonderful idea to talk about ur theories with each other so i can just spectate and laugh to myself about it all, but if you’re shy, you always have me, the writer, who will always respond to ur silly comments and goofy thoughts 🩷🩷🩷

[aliasrocket]

So I was thinking Misery Business pt. 2 could go something like this …

Rocket shot up, head twisting in all directions to throw warm, thin sheets below him around to find the sweet scent buried beneath it all; sweet, but foreign.

Yet where was the culprit?

But then, with the thin sheets and the white bunk he realizes it’s not the scent that doesn’t belong.

It’s not his bed.

His feet meet the floor and he’s rushing out the room to be met with clashing sounds of utensils and when he turns to the cockpit he sees them. Everyone.

Gamora, Peter, Drax, Groot and …

You, with your food-stuffed mouth and spoon in your mouth.

D’asted idiot.

“Hey,” Rocket called you from the hallway, your name being dragged along the metal floors. “I gotta talk to you for a sec.”

“Oh.” You put down your food and rush over.

Rocket ranks you further away and puts you against the wall. His brows are furrowed and he had a hand on his forehead before he finally locked gazes with you, his eyes almost piercing a hole right through your perfectly fine morning.

“There’s a hickey on your neck, princess.”

“Are you serious?”

Rocket’s hand pressed against your sternum before slithering up to the side of your neck.

His nail pressed against a tender spot, making you wince.

“Right there.”

You grit your teeth.

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Nah, if you want another fuck you’re gonna have to work for it.”

[tsunami-watch]

Name: Outcome-3

Age: 32

Occupation/Association: Former FIA Agent/Merc | Nomads

Status: Alive

Short Bio/Backstory: Part of the highly classified NUSA government project to create the perfect supersoldier/spy/assassins, Operation Outcome, on the run after failing an assignment and betraying direct orders. Is currently hiding in the autonomous free city of Night City looking for a way to flee the country as well as a place to provide him sanctuary. Nameless, faceless, untraceable. The very skills and abilities the NUSA gave him are now the only thing keeping him from a bullet in the head. When pressures in the city gets high chances are you’ll find him with the Aldecaldos, or rather you won’t find him, but he’ll be there. The strange man without a name who proved his loyalty to the clan and the pack, came to them in desperation for their help, one survivor to another, and continues to protect them in return whenever he could with his unnaturally adept skills with a rifle, watching over them like a guardian angel. Closer to the city he’s constructed a concealed base of operations and hiding place within the trash mountains of the Municipal Landfill, blending perfectly into the surrounding landscape, completely invisible to anyone who doesn’t know where to look. His time not spent on planning an escape or riding with the Aldecaldos are used scavenging for valuable cyberware he could sell to shady rippers that didn’t ask questions, or occasionally bounty hunting in the city for some quick cash. 

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[ivystoryweaver]

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[hoedamn-eron]

@soulreader05 @ominoose Yaaaaaaas share your ideas, please!

Llewyn, Outcome 3, and William, let’s do it! (I haven't seen Llewyn Davis or Bourne Legacy yet so I'll try my best!)

tw for abortions again, and fears of abandonment/being a mostly single parent.

Llewyn Davis

Ahhhh girl dad

Absolutely, definitely did NOT mean to get you pregnant

You weren’t even together

He’s just a friend who sleeps on your couch (and in your bed) sometimes

You didn’t even see him for weeks after you found out you were pregnant

He just randomly turned up at your place again asking to stay the night

After a hot meal and an equally hot shower was when you gave him the news

You both argued, he wants you to get rid of it, and he ended up storming out

He didn't want a kid and he was pissed off that this had happened again

Again, you didn’t see him for a long time

I can see you bumping into him like months later when you’re like on the verge of giving birth

And he sees what an idiot he’s been and tells you he’s ready to step up

You give him some choice words, of course you do, but eventually you tell him that it’s his kid

You want him to be involved, for your kid to know their dad

He sheepishly just nods at you

You go into labour probably a few weeks after that

Unfortunately Llewyn cannot be found because you don't know which couch he's surfing on that week

So you have your baby alone and go home alone

He does turn up a few days later, with flowers and a pack of baby grows

Jean had told him you'd had the baby

You're pissed off, obviously, but you let him in to meet his daughter

I reckon her name would be something like Julia, or Juliet, something romantic

Llewyn is smitten

Asks to hold her, looking at you with those sad brown eyes that you melt for every time

Obviously you let him, this is his daughter

He's so gentle with her

He barely moves as he sits on the couch with her, just looking at your daughter with wonder

He makes a comment about how tiny she is

Your anger melts away and you wish you had a camera to capture the moment forever

He promises then that he'll be around more this time

And he is!

He stops by your place every day to help out with the baby as much as he can before he has to disappear to whichever venue he was performing at

He was back later that night at your place to help out all over again

I don't see you ever really getting together, but Llewyn doesn't exactly see anyone else 👀

(you'll work on it)

He sings to your daughter all the time

It calms her when she's upset

She just stares at him with a frown every time he sings

Then when she gets older, she sings along

He even teaches her a few chords, but she just strums and giggles at the noise

With what little money he makes, it all mostly goes to you and your daughter

And sometimes, if he has a little extra, takes her on daddy-daughter dates to a cafe

He treats her to cake

(sometimes when she wants something a little more expensive, he feels bad when he has to tell her no)

He'd like to spoil her but he just doesn't have the means to

You have to explain it to her when she asks you that sometimes her daddy tries his best but doesn't always have the money he wants for her

She gets a little sad but more so that her dad wants to get her things but can't

But overall she's just happy to see him when she can

Llewyn likes to take her to school in the mornings

He watches you brush her hair and put it into pigtails in the mornings

You always catch him watching you with a soft smile on his face

Holds her hand as they walk through the streets

They mostly talk about you, and how much they both love you

She asks if Llewyn wants to marry you

And he admits one day he would like to

"but that's our secret okay?"

he waves her off at the school gates

Sometimes takes you and her to one of his gigs if it's early enough in the night

And dedicates his songs to you and her, a smile on his face

(Okay maybe you do end up together in the end)

Outcome 3

This one's a toughy

I feel like this one will go either way too

My heart is also leaning towards girl dad

(It's the jumper)

I feel like your romance with Outcome 3 was a whirlwind

For one, he never gives you his name

You did not plan on getting pregnant

But you were happy that you were, you loved kids

Outcome was another story

He didn't really react when you told him

It was a bit unnerving

Eventually he told you it was a bad idea and you should get rid of it

You argued and he left

You didn't hear from him for a long time

Like all through your pregnancy, well past the birth, it wasn't until your daughter was nearly a year old that he turns up again

He's frantic, he's on the run, he needs to hide

You accept him into your home quickly, not even thinking about what was happening, you were just scared by the panic on his face

You started spouting question after question at him asking where he's been, what's going on, who's he on the run from

but he's just stood in your living room, staring at your daughter who is surfing along the couch on unsteady feet

You tell him her name, which I think would be something really simple and modern, like Ines, Eden, Lux

He just keeps staring at her

Honestly you think he probably forgot you were pregnant, he'd been gone so long

But he just slowly sits on the floor, watching her

Your daughter watches him with uncertain eyes for a moment before she giggles and runs away from him

He was gone after that

When your daughter is in bed, you really lay into him for leaving

He just takes your verbal beating and agrees with you

That he wasn't fair to you

And honestly, he was only here to lay low, but now he's seen his daughter, he wants to make up for lost time

He's never had stability in his life, he'd like to start that now, for him and his daughter

It takes you a while to warm back up to him but you're not going to stop him from seeing his daughter

(and you've come to accept you're never going to get an answer from him about where he's been)

He'd already missed out on so much

Can't leave the house much at the moment so tries to bond with his daughter with the limited stuff in the house

Reads a lot to her, but she mostly climbs all over him

(it doesn't phase him, he just continues reading)

Plays educational and sensory games with her, and does lots of crafts

Your fridge is full of pictures they've made together

You're daughter is obsessed with hide and seek

And Outcome is always happy to play

But your daughter is so good at hiding, he actually loses her

He panics thinking she's got out and she's gone forever

You laugh at him and tell him to check the cupboard under the sink

(you'd learned in the past to move the dangerous cleaning chemicals after you made the same mistake a while ago)

Sometimes likes to help you out in the morning and dresses her as best as he can

Strangely he has a good sense of style

Eventually, he has his connections create a completely new identity for him

And he can leave the house a little more

His favourite thing is to take your daughter to the park

He follows her around cautiously, scared she's going to trip and hurt herself

She's just a constant ball of energy and it's the only place she can tire herself out

This does not change as she gets older

You and Outcome (now legally Michael) sign her up for kids soccer

He loves going to her games and cheering her on from the sidelines

She always screams if he saw her whenever she kicked the ball or even scored

He always shouted back how good of a job she was doing

Has the other moms swooning

Much the delight of the other dads

You feel like you need to mark your territory

Outcome finds it funny

Because even after all this time, you still haven't had the talk about what you were

(even though he's been living in your house and sleeping in your bed for years now)

(you're a couple, let's be real)

William Tell

boy dad

are you kidding me?

other than Nathan, he is the boyest of boy dads

Like with Llewyn, your relationship was casual

Like if he was in the area, he'd call you up

Anyway, you ended up pregnant after his most recent visit

Obviously wasn't planned and you truthfully thought about getting rid of it

You were alone, really, you didn't think you were ready

So you called him, and told him the news as soon as he picked up the phone

He was silent before he said "Oh."

He asked you what you wanted to do, because he wasn't ever going to be around, so it'll be harder on you than it was on him

You told him you were thinking of getting rid of it

He said okay, he'd send money if you needed it

But after a few more weeks, you decided you were ready to be a mother

You had a decent place and a good job and yes it would be scary to do it on your own, but you're confident you'll be able to do it

(you're lying you're scared shitless to do it on your own)

William had kept in contact more often the last few weeks since you told him about the baby

So it wasn't hard for you to let him know you were keeping it

He was okay with it

Again, just warned you he wouldn't be around

Which you were not okay with

You were a badass single mom

You kept William updated, sending pictures of ultrasounds and health updates

You found out you were having a boy and immediately told him

He sounded happy about it, from what you could tell

You told him when you were in labour, and I feel like he would show up

Maybe not in time to see his son be born, but still, he turned up with a gift bag with baby clothes and a stuffed bear

He was uncharacteristically nervous walking into the hospital room

And even more nervous to pick up his son

You'd discuss a name with him then

Something like Theodore, Alexander, Oliver

You let William have his moment with his son but he eventually told you he couldn't be as around as you want him to be

"he doesn't work that way"

You'd accepted it long ago

He leaves a few days after you're all settled at home

You updated him as often as you could and William never failed to Facetime every night to see his son

When he's a little older, William starts showing up more

William wants to right the wrongs made by being a better dad

So he does

Takes his son out on walks in the stroller as you take some time for yourself

Just talks to him about the places he's been and the people he's met

(skips out the whole...military part and prison)

Buys your son so many toys and clothes, you don't know what to do with them all

You tell William that there is just not enough room, and he'll grow out of them before he gets to wear them and it's a waste of money

William just shrugged at you

When your son is older, he tries to teach him card tricks

But your son just likes watching William shuffle the cards

And you scolded him for teaching your 3 year old how to play poker

Willam just gave you a smirk

William still travels away and it makes your son sad when he does

But like before, Facetimes every night at bedtime and they read a story together

William calls you after your kid is asleep just to talk about your day

you usually fall asleep on the phone a few hours later

Similar to Llewyn, William likes to pick his son up from school, to surprise him

Tells you in advance he's going to show up

Your son loves it, always comes sprinting out of the school and into his dads arms

The moms all have a crush on him, since he's so elusive and a silver fox

They wonder where you've been hiding him and he's a regular talking point at the PTA meetings

Your son is essentially set for life

William sends you money every month but he also has a savings account for the kid that's already nearing half a mil

He doesn't tell you about it

Just encourages his son to do well in school and go on to be a better man than he ever was

You already think that William is a better man

listen okay

been thinking about Oscar's characters and what they're like as dads

Spoke very briefly with @writefightandflightclub about this, months ago (can't even find the post it was that long ago - I'll link it later if I do)

Poe Dameron is a girl dad

Santiago Garcia is a girl dad (see here)

Steven Grant is a girl dad

And Marc Spector and Jake Lockley

(Jake especially)

But Nathan Bateman

Nathan Bateman oozes boy dad

Because, right:

Nathan created Ava and has the mindset that girls are scary

(And Luna pointed out that he'd be wary after that having a girl after 'the incident' and I agree)

Seems like the kind of guy to say 'first time, guaranteed' after sex, when you both agree to start trying

(he was right, it was)

(you still don't know how he did it)

Anyways, you both have a boy

He needed to find out at your anomaly scan because he hasn't been able to control one single thing during this pregnancy and he hates it

So he voted he found out the gender

Makes you put on classical music for "the foetus" (Nathan's words) because he seems like that type of guy

Not that he doubts the kid'll be a genius, but it can't hurt

When your son is here, Nathan would be a mess

It was one thing knowing you were pregnant, seeing the bump and ultrasounds and all

But now there's an actual kid

A kid that is fully reliant on him

Nathan probably wouldn't sleep for weeks

Just sit and works and watches the kid, make sure he's breathing

He'd mellow out eventually, when you'd told him he needed sleep and can't keep doing this to himself

You took over the night shift after that, mostly

He isn't the kind of dad to rough house

But one that you'll catch talking out coding issues to an infant who just stares at Nathan, just because of the sound of his voice

Your son would look nothing like you, and take everything after Nathan (he's super smug about it too - not only can he make literal lifelike robots, but he has 'superior genes' too)

Would want to call the boy something unique like Silas, or Atlas, something along those lines

You had veto'd them very quickly

But Silas grew on you, so I can imagine you agreed to a unique name

Once your son was old enough, he'd definitely teach him how to box

Since Nathan's sleep schedule is fucked (he's working on it), he's always up first with the kid

You'll always find them on the decking at the punching bag

Nathan was always guiding him, praising him when your son eventually punched the bag

You and Nathan both regularly went out on hikes (he enjoyed them more than you did) even before the kid

When the kid was born, it was easy to carry him around in a carrier on your chests

But when he got older and learned to walk, he never wanted to be carried

And the hikes took longer

So now Nathan's planned out new family friendly routes for you all, where you'll all be out for an hour, tops, and not far from the house

Nathan really hates mess, so will probably follow the kid around once he starts walking, just picking up after him

If he's stressed or hungover (he's working on that too) he would probably yell at you to sort it out

He'd apologise later after you chewed him out, even offering to do bath time and get the kid ready for bed

"I'll read him a story or some shit"

(It's probably Stephen Hawking)

He'd arrange someone to decorate the kids bedroom to look like space or something

You had a field day looking around the IKEA website and choosing what you wanted for your son's dream bedroom, but Nathan had just rolled his eyes and got the more expensive, designer, equivalent and it was delivered within a week

You'd told him off for doing it, but he just shrugged at you wordlessly as he set up the bedroom for your son

This is long enough, I'm gonna stop here, but now I want to write a full series of dad!Nathan 😭😭😭

[softaestluv]

Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want and you answer.

Simon ‘ghost’ Riley x f! Reader

tags: short n’ sweet, fluff, denial, eventual smut/romance

Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4 Pt. 5, last part | Ao3 | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

A cat.

A stupid cat.

A stupid fawn cat with sharp golden eyes.

Simon Riley has faced many adversaries in his life, laid awake in the face of death more times than he can count.

And yet, the most insistent, burdensome, inconvenience he has ever faced is a cat. A stupid cat. A stupid fawn cat with sharp golden eyes.

Simon Riley is not a cat person, not necessarily an animal person either. He doesn’t understand humans as it is, animals are even more difficult to wrap his head around. At least most humans have a basic understanding to be afraid of the bulking man they cross paths with, and avoid him at all costs. Don’t seek refuge with the apparition of a man who wears his scars like a badge of honor.

At least most humans don’t sit on his porch doorstep alongside the tattered skull mat that Laswell gave him as a housewarming gift months ago. Don’t return day after day, night after night, after being shooed and shushed away with a swat of his hand and harshly uttered words.

Simon hasn’t even fed said fawn-colored cat, hasn’t even brushed a pet against the back of its neck, and there it sits, perched on its hind legs, sniffing, and meowing for his attention, waiting for the day he bends down with a palm full of kibble as an offering. But Simon would be a dead man before that day ever comes.

Maybe the previous tenant fed the bloody cat. Maybe the previous tenant just left the poor cat to fend for itself when they moved out.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter because he wasn’t that person. Simon wasn’t the previous tenant who had a soft heart for a ball of fur and golden beady eyes. Wasn’t the person the cat was searching for and he wasn’t about to pretend he was.

So, day after day, night after night, he continued to slam his withered door in the face of his biggest adversary, a stupid cat.

When this did not work, he picked the cat up and placed it on the sidewalk in front of his house in hopes it would not return, but minutes later, there was a quiet, disgruntled meowing outside his window. He should have known that would not work.

Then, he started walking it a few blocks away, placing it amongst random stranger's backyards; the minutes of peace without a furry animal outside his doorstep turned into hours, but like an animal trained, there it would arrive hours later.

Simon almost, almost, felt bad, disgusted when the cat would purr eagerly and contentedly in his large palms, searching for his brutish affection just for him to toss it to the side. He even asked his elderly neighbor if she wanted the bloody cat, but she claimed five cats were enough on her plate. Five cats, he grumbled; what the bloody hell was the difference between five and six cats?

When none of this worked, he shoved the fawn-colored cat into his old pick-up, pushed it away with stiff elbows as it kept trying to nudge its small head against his arms, and drove across town. Left it at a park, surely a whiny child would pick it up with nubby hands and sticky fingers and throw a high-pitched tantrum until their mother agreed to take the cat home.

Two days went by without matted fur on his house mat or adamant meowing. Simon thought he won, conquered the worst enemy of all, fangs and claws. The third day he woke up with shoulders that weighed a little less, a headache that didn’t throb as painfully behind his eyelids or temples.

Simon Riley wasn’t a man of hope. He acted and shaped the outcome of his life with his bare hands and preservation. Maybe his first mistake was letting a glimmer of hope shine between his irises for three whole days because, on the fourth day, he heard an all too familiar scratching at his wooden door.

He cursed the day he lived.

His last ditch effort was to upload an ad on the internet, quite an inconvenience for a man who had a flip phone as a means of communication, but creating an ad was the only solution he could possibly imagine to solve his four-legged problem.

‘Bloody stray cat won’t leave me alone, and I don’t want it. FREE for anyone who’s willing. I’ll even drive it to your location to get it off my hands.’

Truly, he thought he might be too wishful thinking anyone would respond to such an ad, but he was pleasantly surprised when he woke up to a message the next morning.

‘Hi! I would love to take the precious baby off your hands! :)’

[ladyfocalors]

The Prefect's Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Rulebook

summary: After yet another rule violation by Grim, Riddle hands you a comprehensive guide to Heartslabyul’s regulations expecting you to finally learn and teach Grim. Instead, you retaliate by writing your own unofficial rulebook about Riddle himself, filled with exaggerated (but surprisingly accurate) observations. He inevitably gets his hands on the book. Riddle is left flustered and scandalized, especially with the last rule.

pairing: riddle rosehearts x gn!reader

warning: secondhand embarrassment experience.

word count: 2.4k

i had so much fun writing this. probably one of my favourite fics i have written. it's fun to write about my beloved riddle <3

It all started with a tart. Or rather, the lack of one.

You and Grim stood in the lounge, both of you equal parts guilty and unapologetic. Well, you were mostly guilty by association, considering it was Grim who had eaten one of Trey’s tarts without permission, but in Riddle’s eyes, you were both responsible.

"Grim," you sighed, standing before Riddle Rosehearts with his face red, arms crossed, eyes burning with irritation. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Grim, hiding behind you, peeked out from behind your legs, ears twitching. "I regret nothing," he declared. "That tart was mine!"

"It most certainly was not!" Riddle snapped, his voice sharp. "That was my tart, specifically prepared for me. And not only did you eat it, but you also violated Rule #89 ‘Never eat a tart without the Queen's permission’, and Rule #27 ‘Do not break into the dormitory kitchens after hours’ and Rule #53–"

Grim huffed. "Ya make it sound worse than it is."

"You ate the Housewarden’s tart in front of him and ran to me," you muttered, reminding him of his crime. You were surprised that Grim hadn't been collared yet.

"A mistake anyone could make," Grim said stubbornly.

"A mistake that you made," you deadpanned.

Riddle inhaled deeply, clearly exercising a lot of restraint to not collar Grim. Then, he presented you with a book, quite a massive book.

"This," he declared, "is the Heartslabyul Rulebook."

You took it, nearly dropping it due to its weight. No dorm rulebook should be this heavy, you thought. "This thing could kill a man."

Grim peeked at it over your shoulder and immediately recoiled. "Ugh! Words! Too many words!"

"That is exactly the issue," Riddle snapped at him. "You do not read the rules, and as a result, you break them." Riddle then turned to you, his face no longer red. "As the Ramshackle Prefect, I expect you to look after your dorm members. Therefore, I expect you to read this book in its entirety and teach Grim to behave himself in my dorm."

You blinked at him. This seemed hardly fair. Why did you have to be punished?

You opened the book to have a look.

Rule #1: Always respect the Queen’s Decrees.

You promptly closed it.

"Yeah, I’m not doing that," you said.

Riddle frowned.

At first, you did try to read the rulebook, but between all your other work, assignments, and the endless errands you had to run, it simply wasn’t feasible. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous some of the rules were.

So instead of reading his rulebook, you wrote your own. For fun.

Grim was pleased with the outcome.

It had started as a joke, something to vent your many grievances about the amount of rules in Heartslabyul, but you quickly realized something: your rulebook wasn’t about Heartslabyul.

It was about Riddle, which Grim had helpfully pointed out.

"Myahaha! Look at this one! ‘Rule #23 – Riddle can and will recite the rules you broke.’ That one's good! Let me add some too!"

And so, The Prefect’s Unofficial Guide to Riddle Rosehearts was born.

The Prefect’s Unofficial Guide to Riddle Rosehearts

(Compiled by the Ramshackle Prefect, with essential additions and doodles from Grim. Rules may be ignored at your own risk. Side effects include but are not limited to: exasperation, lectures, punishments, and possible collaring.)

Rule #1 – Anything is legal when Riddle has his back turned. (Grim wrote this.)

Rule #2 – Riddle will scold you for running in the halls, even if you are running to avoid being late for a meeting with him. (It was a no-win situation. You’d be scolded for being late or scolded for running. There was no escape.)

Rule #3 – Riddle has a ‘stern nod’ and a ‘very stern nod.’ Learn to tell the difference. (One means ‘I am disappointed in you.’ The other means ‘You will be collared in five seconds.’)

Rule #5 – If Riddle goes silent mid-sentence, he is either (a) so angry he can’t speak, or (b) realizing you have a point but refuses to admit it.

Rule #12 – If you see Trey baking tarts, congratulations! You are in the presence of Heartslabyul’s unofficial MVP. Do not let Riddle (or anyone) see you sneaking one.

Rule #18 – If you notice Riddle's face is turning red, you have exactly three seconds to mentally prepare for whatever comes next.

Rule #23 – Riddle can and will recite the rules you broke.

Rule #28 – If you compliment Riddle out of nowhere, he will malfunction like a broken automaton. (Highly effective distraction technique.)

Rule #31 – If Ace says, 'Housewarden Riddle will never know,' Housewarden Riddle will absolutely find out.

Bonus Section:

Rule #31.1 – If Ace says, 'I have a great idea,' walk away. It is neither 'great' nor 'an idea.'

Rule #31.2 – If you try to hide something from Ace, he will immediately become interested.

Rule #34 – Riddle pretends not to have a sense of humour, but he does. (It’s just deeply buried under layers of responsibility and rule enforcement.)

Rule #38 – Trey has a 70% success rate of calming Riddle down. (Cater has a 50% success rate. Ace and Deuce have a -500% success rate.)

Rule #41 – Riddle secretly likes animals, but will deny this if accused. (He takes good care of the hedgehogs and adores them.)

Rule #53 – If Riddle ever finds out I like him, I am done for.

You weren’t sure why you wrote that last one. It was a joke. Mostly. (It felt easier to admit on paper rather than to say it. It was most definitely not a joke.)

The rulebook remained a harmless source of entertainment between you and Grim. You had your fun, and Grim even doodled in a few pictures of angry Riddle before resorting to drawing himself.

It should have remained a private joke. It really should have. But, of course, nothing involving Grim remained a secret for long.

It was another ordinary evening in Heartslabyul, where you had reluctantly agreed to a study session with Ace and Deuce. The plan was simple: Ace and Deuce would attempt to get their grades up, you would try to prevent them from slacking while trying to study as well, and Grim would… probably not study.

Riddle had allowed you all to use one of the study rooms, though not without a warning about ‘proper conduct.’

You had meant to be careful, really. You had every intention of keeping your very unofficial, very embarrassing rulebook far away from prying eyes. You just hoped nobody looked through your stack of books, among which laid your rulebook you had accidentally brought. Unfortunately, for you, Grim had other plans.

Grim huffed, then pawed through the stack of books on the table. "There’s too many words in here! I wanna read something fun."

"You’ll think studying is fun when you see your test scores improve," Deuce said, diligently copying notes and actually putting in an effort.

"Nyah! Where’s our rulebook? I wanna add another one about Riddle’s scary angry face!"

You immediately froze and, like a shark smelling blood in water, Ace perked up.

"Rulebook?" he echoed. "Wait, wait, wait. Is it another one of Riddle’s? Man, you’re actually reading that thing?"

Deuce actually looked impressed. "That’s really responsible of you, Prefect."

"It’s not the Heartslabyul Rulebook," Grim piped up, completely missing the way you were silently willing him to stop talking. "It’s hench-human’s rulebook! The one ‘bout Riddle!"

A beat of silence.

Then, with alarming speed, Ace lunged for your stack of books before you could even stop him. (Rule #31.2 was being displayed right in front of you.)

"HEY–"

"Hold on, hold on," Ace said, flipping the thin book open. "This is– ooohhh. You wrote an entire guide to our Housewarden? With rules?" He barked out a laugh. "Rule #1: Anything is legal when Riddle has his back turned."

You snatched for the book, but Ace twisted out of reach.

"It was a joke! Give it back!"

Deuce, peeking over Ace’s shoulder, frowned. "I don’t know if this is a good idea–"

"‘Rule #31: If Ace says, Housewarden Riddle will never know, Housewarden Riddle will absolutely find out.’" Ace read. "Hey, what the hell! That’s slander!"

"It’s true!" you snapped.

Ace ignored you, flipping further. "‘Rule #38: Trey has a 70% success rate of calming Riddle down. Cater has a 50% success rate. Ace and Deuce have a -500% success rate.’"

Deuce looked offended. "Hey, why is mine also negative?"

Ace grinned. "Because you’re the one who keeps making it worse by apologizing wrong and getting us caught."

"I– wait. I do not!"

"Stop arguing and give it back–"

"Prefect, Ace, Deuce," came the voice of Riddle Rosehearts from the now open door.

A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad silence followed.

The three of you went completely still, and Grim decided he would hide behind you.

This was the worst possible outcome ever. In Ace's hand was your silly book, in plain sight, and there stood Riddle in the doorway with his brows furrowed. Riddle’s eyes flicked to the book in Ace’s hands. Ace immediately noticed and hid it behind his back, but it was far too late.

"Ace," Riddle said, stepping forward. "What are you hiding?"

"Uh… nothing?" Ace tried, clearly lying.

"Nothing," Riddle repeated flatly. His gaze sharpened. "Ace Trappola, hand it over. Now."

Ace, being Ace, grinned as if he could still salvage the situation. "C’mon, Housewarden. Maybe this is one of those things you're better off not seeing–"

"If you don't hand me the book, it's off with your head!"

Ace immediately caved, sighing. "Alright, alright. Here." He handed over the book, and you had never felt such levels of anxiety in your life. Not even facing overblots made you feel the level of panic you felt now (that was an exaggeration but, still).

Riddle took it, immediately glancing at the cover. Then he flipped open the first page. Then the second. Then the third.

You watched, frozen in place, as Riddle continued reading, his expression shifting between scandalized and exasperated.

Then he was at the last page. You could tell the exact moment he read the 53rd Rule. His face went from normal to red in an instant.

Oh no.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment and then opened to meet Riddle's blue-gray ones.

“I see,” Riddle said, his voice carefully even but his face red. "Is this true?"

You considered your options.

Lie. (Too late, he’s already read it.)

Run. (Where? He knows where you live.)

Pray. (The Great Seven can’t save you now.)

You picked option 4. Deflection.

"You were not supposed to read it," you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

"So I gathered," he muttered. He looked at you then glanced at the audience.

"Ace, Deuce and Grim," he said. "I expect a 2000 worded essay about the need of study ettiquette and rules."

Ace groaned. "Aw, c’mon, Housewarden–"

"2500 words," Riddle amended, not even hesitating.

Deuce sighed but nodded, already resigned to his fate. Grim, however, let out a dramatic wail. "But I didn't even do anything!"

"Then you may explain, in 2500 words, why you are a menace to the dorms."

Grim gasped. "Wha– ME?!"

"Now leave," Riddle said, and Ace wasted no time grabbing Grim and Deuce by the collars, dragging them toward the door.

"Good luck, Prefect," Ace called, grinning like a traitor before the door shut behind them.

And then, silence.

You were alone with Riddle. You could hear the pages of the rulebook crinkling slightly under his grip. He wasn’t saying anything. Oh no.

Riddle took a deep breath, and exhaled. His face was still tinged red, and you had no idea if that was a good sign or if you were about to be executed on the spot.

"Why," he finally said, "did you write this?"

You hesitated, rubbing the back of your neck. "It was just a joke. Grim and I wrote it for fun."

"Fun," Riddle echoed, a slight twitch in his brow. "So, you thought it would be fun to create an entire guide about me?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds weird."

"It is weird!"

You winced. Was it Rule #18 red or Rule #5 red? Either way, this was not looking good for you.

(Back in your world, you used to laugh when your friends talked about the embarrassing things they did and noticed about their crushes. You thought it was ridiculous. Now the tables have turned and you feel like you want to throw up.)

"Look," you said, shifting uncomfortably, "I didn’t mean for you to see it. I mean, it’s not like you don’t do all those things–"

Riddle inhaled sharply. "That’s not the point!"

There was another terrible pause. You could feel your soul slowly trying to escape your body.

Then, he huffed, closing the book with a thunk against his palm. "So," he said, eyes locking onto you, "Rule number 53."

Your stomach flipped in a very bad way.

"That one was a joke," you blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow. "Was it?"

You swallowed. "Mostly?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Mostly," he repeated. He tapped his fingers against the book, thoughtful. "I find it strange, Prefect. You wrote a rather detailed guide about me, yet you conveniently included that rule."

You remain silent.

"I am asking again. Is it true?"

You opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

"...Yes."

Riddle stared at the floor. His fingers curled slightly. You silently braced yourself for the rejection. All you had to do was not cry and act as level headed as you could.

Then, after a long pause, he muttered, "I think I should make my own rulebook."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He looked up, red-faced, but determined.

"Rule #1 : If the Prefect likes me, they are not done for."

You felt your face burn. Embarrassment rising up again.

"Rule #2," he continued, flustered, "If the Prefect insists on writing about me, they should expect me to read it and respond accordingly."

You could feel yourself sweat. "Riddle–"

"And Rule #3–"

He hesitated, then turned away, mumbling, "...They should expect me to like them back."

Your heart soared and you almost cried in relief.

Riddle sighed, covering his face. "This is the worst rulebook ever."

But there was a small, shy smile peeking through his embarrassment.

© ladyfocalors