#you can't take a single question??? leave before you hurt someone

[devouringyourson]

had to apologise to an angry scary man at work today just to get him to calm down and move on even though I was completely in the right and he did nothing to help me all day and just sulked about. god the way men get to be so emotional and aggressive and bitch about being asked to do their fucking job and the women of the workforce (often the managers in my industry) have to run around accomodating their stupid egos and putting ourselves down to keep the peace. so fed up of tip toeing around emotional men and being called a nag for asking them to do their fucking job. If you question their process they take it soooo personally like im just trying to get the job done 😭😭😭 I'm so sorry I asked you to vaguely document your work or questioned something jfc learn to communicate without violence or sulking

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[romanticintheory]

HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS

...

and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺

HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3

simon riley betrays you pt. 2

simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆

-miraculously, they let you go.

-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.

-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?

-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.

-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.

-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.

-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.

-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?

-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.

-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.

-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."

-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.

-"c'mon jus' let me-"

-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.

-oh, thank god.

-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.

-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.

-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."

-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.

-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?

-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"

-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?

-"no. never."

-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.

-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.

-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.

-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."

-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"

-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.

-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"

-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"

-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.

-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.

-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."

-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.

-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.

-"what?"

"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.

-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).

-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.

-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?

-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.

-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.

-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."

-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.

-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."

-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.

-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."

-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.

-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.

-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.

-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.

-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.

-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."

-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.

-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.

-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.

[supershot73199]

Ok so this is not connected to my Big Daddy au

But here is another short fic/prompt so feel free to continue this or do your own spin.

This will be DannyxSteph as I don't see much for them (I believe their ship name is meme lords)

Steph winced in pain as she shifted in the chair she had been tied too. She was desperate as she was trying to find a way to distract the Joker or escape with a broken leg and no gear. She wouldn't have been panicked as bad as she was if she had been the only one grabbed but they grabbed the kid she had been babysitting as well, a sweet little girl only four years old named Dawn who was currently crying in her lap where she was chained while the Joker was monologing at the camera.

Supposedly it was broadcasting live on every TV in Gotham. Steph really hoped that there was someone near Dawn's father to help him through this. Danny ,which is her father's name, was a single father Stephs age (which means that he would have had to been a teenage father with Dawn's age) and his little girl was his whole life which means this could not be easy on him.

Suddenly as Joker was mid sentence everyone froze because they could hear gunshots from outside as well as a loud diesel engine before suddenly a wall collapsed as a garbage truck slammed through the wall before screeching to a halt.

Steph at first thought that it was the rest of the bat's maybe borrowing the truck to get in faster and it seemed like Joker had the same thought.

"Well now I never expected this of you Bat's couldn't use the skyli- you aren't one of the bat's."

And he was right because stepping out of the truck-turned-battering-ram was Danny and he didn't even spare a second thought to the Joker as he set his eyes on Dawn and Steph and called out in a relieved tone of voice. "Dawn! Steph! You're ok thank the Ancients."

"Daddy!" Dawn had stopped crying at the sound of her father's voice the tension in her body fading away with that childlike certainty that her father would make everything better. However Joker not one to be ignored reached out and grabbed Danny's arm before speaking.

"Now the shows not over there Daddy but thank you for adding a new hos-"

"Fuck off bozo!" Danny didn't even slow using the same hand Joker grabbed he shoved him off sending the clown stumbling back a few steps as Danny finished crossing the room before quickly cutting the ropes with a pocket knife (and Steph was not blushing at the strength he had to have to cut the sturdy rope in one smooth movement no siree) with Dawn quickly leaping into her Dads arms as soon as the ropes fell away.

Steph turned to the Joker who seemed stunned hand on his chest where he was shoved seemingly shocked that someone had done that with no fear. Turning back to the father daughter pair she started quickly speaking in a low voice hopping not to break the trance the clown prince of crime was under.

"Quick you need to take Dawn and run my legs broken so you need to leave me here the Bat's will be here soon ill be fin-"

"He can't hurt you anymore." Danny's voice was calm and steady as he interrupted Steph. He looked her in the eye before looking pointedly at the had that he shoved the Joker with opening it to reveal something that made Steph gasp.

A human heart still beating though it stopped as she looked and the moment it did she heard a thud as the Joker fell to the floor limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

"Is that .." Steph couldn't even finish the question. But Danny still nodded before tossing it unceremoniously to the floor.

"Nobody threatens the people I care about and gets away with it. He forfeit his existence the moment he grabbed the two of you."

Steph felt like her own heart was about to fall out onto the floor the combination of the Joker a bogeyman who had terrorized Gotham almost as long as she had been alive just dead, dying without so much as a whimper much less a bang. Done in, not by any bat or caped crusader but a father who only wanted to save his daughter. As well as the implication that Danny cared for her too that he killed the nightmare of every kid in Gotham for her sake as much as his daughters.

Danny had separated from Dawn after placing one more kiss on her head and whispered comfort that Steph was to shocked to pay much attention to before quickly coming to check on her injury.

"Looks like a clean break so it should heal fast. I just hate that you got hurt protecting Dawn even if I'm more grateful than you can imagine that you tried to protect her."

Steph smiled "We've known each other for months now and I love that little girl as well. No way was I going to let someone touch her without a fight."

Danny looked up at her from his position next to her chair with a look that Steph couldn't describe before standing up.

"Here I'll carry you to one of the ambulances I hear coming this way."

As he bent to scoop her up Steph got his attention as she got ready to do something impulsive. As he turned his head toward her Steph grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss. Danny froze against her before returning it the pair only stopped when they heard a giggle.

"Daddy and Stephie are kissing! Does that mean Stephie is my Momma now?" Dawn's voice snapped the two out of it but before Danny could say anything Steph beat him to it.

"Maybe one day Daddy has to take me on a date first and we'll see where things go. Say a movie this Friday?"

Steph knew she was being bold but by God she was not letting this absolute dork start to spiral she knew from the amount of time they spent together as neighbors that Danny had a surprising low self esteem and would probably convince himself she only kissed him out of gratitude or something when in reality she has wanted to do this for months and just didn't know how to initiate.

"That sounds wonderful I'm sure miss Chen downstairs would be able to watch Dawn if I ask." Danny's blushing face only made Steph giggle as he responded. But as he lifted her she noticed the Jokers camera with the recording light still on and she knew she was going to get so much shit from the other bat's so she decided to share the embarrassment.

"Not so sure you'll have to ask seeing as everyone in Gotham just saw everything on their screens.

Danny who had just picked Steph up in a princess carry without hurting her leg froze before letting out a groan.

"Oh I'm never going to live this down."

[pomefioredove]

You know what would be sad? If you/Yuu breaks up with Vil (or vice versa) and then runs to Rook afterwards. I wonder if Vil is going to feel betrayed again? If you could do a little scenario for this, that’d be great!

this is such a good prompt, I love rebound scenarios omg. needed this today. and here comes rook with the steel chair!!!

summary: getting dumped by vil schoenheit type of post: long fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, established relationship, vil breaks up with reader, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda angsty, hahhhh, my god

"It's not personal. I just don't think it's fair to you," Vil says.

He doesn't fidget. Maintains perfect eye contact. He doesn't even try to act sorry, which, perhaps, is what stings the most.

He's supposed to be an actor, after all.

That's what this is all about.

"You must have always known this was a possibility," he says. "My schedule is getting busier, I simply don't... want to push you away."

Each word is spoken with a honeyed softness, as if he's trying to cushion the blows. It doesn't help.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your eyes burn. This is the worst thing you've ever experienced. You would take a thousand overblots over this. Any day.

What a bitter sentiment.

"You don't mean to push me away. What is this, then?"

A look of guilt finally crosses Vil's face, cracking the mask of professionalism he'd been hiding behind. It offers little comfort.

His brow furrows, and he sighs. "A preventative measure. It would hurt more if I'd waited,"

A million questions fly through your mind, faster than you can catch them. You want to shout, to tell him exactly how he's making you feel, to ask him who he thinks he is- but all you can manage is a stare.

He frowns, extending a hand as if to caress your face, but you turn on your heels and leave before he has the chance.

You wouldn't sit there and let him make a fool of you any longer.

You had become comfortable with the Pomefiore dorm in the past few months, but today, its elegance feels suffocating. The white and gold decor seems to mock you, every vase of perfect flowers laughing at your imperfection as you pass them by.

It hurts.

Stings, burns, makes you feel like you're drowning in a sea of perfume, choking on lilac and rose. Has the air here always been so sickeningly sweet?

There's still a lingering part of you that wants to run back to him, to beg, to negotiate, but you know he's right. You hate that he's right.

This... whatever it was... wouldn't last.

And you'd always known it.

---

How does one recover from being dumped by Vil Schoenheit?

Short answer: you can't.

You can wallow all you want, drowning yourself in the unhealthy foods he forbade you from eating, skipping the classes he'd so encouraged you to excel in, and using cheap tissues on your formerly-perfect skin, but that doesn't change a thing.

Perhaps if it hadn't been so public, you might have pulled yourself together sooner. But the very second all of your pictures were gone from his profile, everyone knew.

On some nights, you'd torture yourself by reading the thirsty comments from desperate fans under his latest posts, all of them pointing out his recent singleness. You would wonder to yourself if you had sounded that pathetic when you were dating Vil.

Just another hopeless, desperate fan, hoping for a piece of him.

People on campus avoided you. Not out of fear, but pity, a lack of knowing what to say. How do you even comfort someone after this?

It was like having an open wound on full display. No matter how you tried to bandage it, it kept bleeding through.

Even Grim was keeping his distance.

What little comfort came in the form of an anonymous knight in shining armor. Roses left at your doorstep, letters of love and encouragement on your assigned seats, little baskets full of your favorite foods and trinkets on your kitchen table...

You would have questioned it if you were not so consumed by your grief. At least the mystery offered a distraction.

"Another one," Ace comments, pulling a letter off your chair before you can sit on it. "Whoever this guy is, he's slick."

He hands you the letter, which you gracefully accept.

Deuce watches cautiously. "And you're sure it's not just... some kinda of prank, right? I've known my fair share of nasty types, this could be a trick."

"Too much effort," you shake your head. "I mean, whoever this is is spending a lot of time and money cheering me up. Not to mention... I've tried looking up some of these poems, and no matches. They're originals."

You wave around the letter in hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Though, I'm sure whoever's doing it is just being nice,"

"Nice. Right," Ace rolls his eyes. "Cause I know like, a million teenage boys who are just dying to write poetry for their friends."

Even Deuce snickers at that. You roll your eyes.

"Point taken. I guess I just can't believe that anyone would want me after..." you pause. There's no pleasant way to put it, so you let Ace and Deuce fill in the blanks.

"Hey, Vil is a jerk. He doesn't deserve you," Deuce says. "And trust me, if I ever catch him disrespecting you again-"

Ace scoffs. "Woah, there, tiger. Calm down. Vil could kick your ass and we all know it,"

"He really was something, wasn't he?" you sigh, slumping in your seat. Ace and Deuce give each other a panicked look.

"We didn't mean-"

"No, I get it," you say, reaching down to the floor in an attempt to touch your toes. Vil had told you that little exercises help calm the nerves. You hate how you still need his advice.

"Oh, hey, look," you sit back up, another pink envelope in hand. "Another one."

---

There's something about these gifts that doesn't sit right with you.

Each one is arranged to perfection, obviously crafted by a very thoughtful individual, just personal enough to suit your tastes but distant all the same.

It's almost as if the sender is holding something back.

But, not today.

You're greeted by a trail of rose petals leading up to Ramshackle's front door, which itself is ajar. Not uncommon, considering Grim's inability to take care of the makeshift dorm, but with the scent of roses and the candlelight inside, you know it's something more.

You walk in, setting your things aside, and continue following the path of petals into the kitchen, where a rickety wooden table has been set for two.

You, however, are the only one in the room.

"Hello?" you ask, turning in circles. The space is empty, save for a small letter on one of the chairs.

Beautiful,

A little bird told me you doubt the intentions of my admiration. I must amend that immediately, and I see no better way than to say it myself.

Yours truly.

"Trickster," a familiar voice comes from the doorway behind you, and you whirl around to face your admirer.

"Rook!" you gasp, clutching the letter to your chest.

He beams in response. "Oui, c'est moi. Though I was so enjoying the mystery, I feel it's time I made my intentions clear. Sit, please,"

You don't hesitate to follow his suggestion (the surprise left your knees feeling weak, anyway), and he joins you in the adjacent seat.

"But what-"

"Please," he says, holding a finger to your lips to shush you. "Let me start. I first want to say that I have meant every single word, in song and ink, that I have given to you. My heart is true."

Your mind is overflowing with questions, none of which he seems keen on answering in full just yet.

"I have spent the past several months allowing our Beautiful Vil to woo you. I have so enjoyed watching your love blossom from afar, despite my own feelings towards you. But things have changed," Rook says.

"For as much as I love him, this was his own doing. He has made a fatal mistake, one which cannot be undone- he has wounded you, mon amour, in a most vulnerable fashion. Months ago, when we both realized our feelings for you, I willingly stepped aside," he says. "I thought Vil would be the best option for you. I thought I was not ready to commit myself. Now I see what a mistake that was, and I hope you might find it within yourself to forgive me..."

You can only stare back. "Rook..."

"I cannot resent our Roi du Poison for his choice, for it's his to make. But he hurt you dearly, and in the process, he has relinquished his claim on you. I know your wound is still fresh. But, please, Mon Trickster, mon véritable amour, be mine?"

You're silent for a moment, processing every detail of what he said, what he's offering...

He's right. The wound Vil created is still open, and despite the weeks of "recovery", had yet to improve.

If you kept waiting for it to heal, perhaps it never would.

You nod. "Okay. Okay! But-! Let's take it slow, okay?"

Rook just barely manages to stop himself from leaping across the table to take your hands into his, and he reaffirms your request with a nod.

"Of course, mon cœur. What is a hunter if not patient?"

---

Pomefiore is beautiful again.

There are still times where you swear you can see Vil staring at the two of you, a look of discontent on his face, from across the room.

He doesn't utter a word about the way Rook has his arm over your shoulder, or the many terms of endearment he uses on you, though he doesn't have to. The lingering guilt and regret has made a home for itself in Vil Schoenheit.

You're sure Rook has noticed by now, too, although this isn't the first time he's pulled something like this on the housewarden without a second thought, and it likely won't be the last.

Perhaps it's for the better.

[koolaidoverliving]

i've never written an "x reader" fic before, so i wanted to experiment. take this as you will.

NSFW UNDER CUT. MINORS DNI

A FAMILIAR FACE

✦ Jeff the Killer / Reader ✦

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Dub-Con Elements, But The Sex Is Consensual, Knife Threat, Degradation, No Plot, Like Seriously It's Just Jeff Fucking You Into A Mattress, Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

You're waiting for a close friend at a dingy motel out of state. But instead of your friend, you're met with the town's most infamous serial killer.

Your hands fidget restlessly between your thighs. It's been five hours since you arrived at your room — five hours and your best friend is still not here. Of course, they left later than you did, and you can't expect them to be a fast driver. But any sort of notice would do a great deal of help to you right now. You're growing impatient, tapping your foot on the ground and repeatedly checking your phone.

The motel room, with its queen–sized bed and single box TV, provides you no comfort. Without a proper job, this room is all you could afford to get. You're paranoid; you can hear it in the way your heart thumps faster than the ticking of the analogue clock; and the inconsistent buzzing of the fan doesn't do anything to tranquilise your anxiety. The walls, cheaply painted and stained, seem as if they're closing in on you. And they might just be. To make it worse, there's stray dogs outside, and they're barking at the crescendo of police sirens.

With a groan, you fall back onto the bed. You stare up at the ceiling, the pattern of spirals reminiscent of your spiraling thoughts. Did your best friend ditch you? Leave you for someone else again? While you're miles away from home? The questions run through your head and you're unable to stop them. You need someone — anyone by your side to hold your hand and tell you you're not alone.

But all you get is ticking.

Buzzing.

Barking.

And wailing.

...Until there's a knock.

A loud knock — no, a set of desperate knocks at the door. Your heart beats at a million miles per hour, a positive rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

They're here.

"Finally," you say with a smile of relief. You spring up from the bed and hurry to the door. Your sweaty hands fumble with the doorknob. Once it's unlocked, you open it without a second thought.

However, as soon as the door swings open, your face plummets. What stands at the door looks nothing like your best friend. It's a broad man, hooded and stained with what you can only assume is blood.

Before you're able to say something, the stranger brushes past you and enters the room. He closes the door — gently to not make any noise. You open your mouth to shout, but he grabs your body and pulls you back against his chest. His hand clamps over your mouth.

You desperately thrash your arms, your cries of rebuttal muffled behind his hand. But he only tightens his grip on you. "Shhh, shhh..." the man whispers. He reaches out to lock the door. "Stay quiet for just a fucking second."

Though reluctant, you obey him, because you didn't know what he'd do if you didn't. Your muscles tense up. You're pressed so firmly against this man's chest, it almost hurts.

There's indistinguishable chatter outside the room. A cacophony of loud voices. You can't tell what's happening. Not until loud footsteps approach your room. The doorknob rattles. Your body jolts, and you almost yelp, but the stranger's palm is pushing hard against your mouth. You hear another man's voice soon after, much clearer since they're right at the door: "No one's here either."

What — were these men on some weird cat and mouse chase? You can't believe you're being roped into their shenanigans.

Before you know it, the footsteps fade into the distance. The stranger's grip on your body loosens and you use that opportunity to push away from him. "Who the hell are you?" you say breathlessly. "You can't just — You can't just come into someone's room like that — Ugh!" You stop to catch your breath.

"Calm down. I just needed somewhere to hide. You're not special," the man replies. "This room is ugly as fuck too. What are you? Poor?"

"I'm not..." you trail off. No longer in his grasp, you're able to look at him. When you opened the door, his stained hoodie was all you could make out in the dim light, but now that he's in your room, you spot all his grisly features.

Pale leathery skin; blue eyes, wide open; dark shaggy hair, tangled underneath his hood; and worst of all — two grotesque lines carved into either side of his cheeks.

You let out a gasp. The man cocks his head to the side, surveying your reaction. You saw him when you got here. That same face was plastered on the news. And that knife, that knife in his hand —

"You're —" you swallow, "You're Jeffrey Woods..."

A crooked smile forms on the man's face. He gives a subtle nod, affirming your deduction. "Who else could be me?" he says with a boastful tone. "Don't freak out now. If you scream, I'll fucking kill you. This knife isn't just for show — got that?"

"...Yes."

"Good..." Jeff mumbles. "You know. Looking at you closer, you're a pretty little thing." The comment leaves your eyes widened. Your lips slightly part as Jeff leans down and places a hand on your cheek. He grabs your face rather harshly. "I was gonna leave — no, I was gonna kill you and then leave. But now," he laughs, "now I just wanna fuck you."

You aren't able to protest Jeff's advancements when his lips meet with yours in a chaste kiss. He's particularly chapped; there's a metallic taste where his skin is peeling. Yet, he's warm, and his tongue feels oddly nice wandering in your mouth.

Jeff pulls away, leaving your mouth terribly empty. "Yeah, yeah. Definitely a pretty one," he exhales. His breath is warm against your skin.

"Wh–What are you doing?" you stammer, eyebrows scrunching. Jeff rolls his eyes at your question.

"Are you stupid? I'm tasting what's mine now, idiot," Jeff replies.

"'Mine'? But I don't belong to you — I don't even know you."

"Pfsh, everyone knows me."

A cold, prickling metal grazes up your torso. Your skin shivers at the contact. You suck in your stomach, as if that gets you away from the feeling. It takes one downward glance to realise that Jeff is lifting up your shirt with his knife.

"Come on." Jeff's gaze meets yours — his dull eyes stare you down; his knife is still ghosting over your skin. "You want this?" he asks.

The question is abrupt. The sudden change of his tone causes you to shudder — or maybe it's the blade at your skin. You don't know how to respond. He's a serial killer. No, not just any serial killer — he's one of the most infamous in town. You've seen him on several news sites since you arrived, running from one street to the next. And now he's here asking you if you want him.

But you're alone. You're so alone, and that kiss you shared made you feel warm for the first time in ages. He's being kind to you, isn't he? He could kill you — choke you underneath him and plunge a knife into you. But he isn't doing that. He's asking you... if you want him.

It might be the fear, or maybe you're genuinely attracted to him... But either way, you give him a small nod.

"...Yeah. That's what I thought. You get all this, and I'm not even making you pay," Jeff chuckles. "Go on. Take off your clothes."

You're hesitant for a second, but you listen and pull your shirt over your head. You do the same with your shorts, pulling them down and over your feet. You fidget with your hands, staring up at him with a bashful look. Jeff eyes you up and down, that twisted smile permanent on his face. You grit your teeth. You're exposing your body to a serial killer. But it isn't that bad.

"Do — Do you want my name?" you ask. Your body flushes a deep red. You can feel the stickiness of sweat between your thighs.

Jeff scoffs. "No. Why would I want your name? You really think you're more than a random slut to me?" He steps closer to you; you step back in tandem. Your heel hits the frame of the bed. "I said I wanna fuck you, not date you."

He pushes you onto the bed. You watch as he unzips his jeans and discards his clothing the same as you did. Now it's your turn to look him up and down. He has a lean frame. You're shocked by how built it is — but now it makes sense why his chest felt like bricks. You can't avoid looking at his cock either. Jeff's cock is at your face level. It twitches in his hand, and it's one of the biggest you've seen. You're nervous now, more than ever, but it's a good kind of nervousness. Isn't it?

Your eyes flicker back to Jeff's face. He's grinning, revelling in how you check out his body. "You wanna take my dick, huh?" Jeff asks. He grabs a fistful of your hair, bringing your mouth close to the head of his cock. "I know sluts like you love sucking dick. So come on, suck me off."

His ego has no limits... You open your mouth and take in the head of his dick.

"There you fucking go," Jeff says with a satisfied groan.

He's warm and salty. You struggle to shimmy down the thickness of his cock, but you eventually build a good pace for yourself.

"Fuck..." Jeff mumbles. "It's too rare to find a nasty bitch like you out here." He thrusts his hips, pushing his cock in deeper. "Can't be too big for you, yeah? You've got a dirty little mouth, don't you?" His hand is firm in your hair and his grip only tightens when his cock reaches the back of your throat. You gag, still not adjusted to his size. But the vibrations of your gags and coughs only make Jeff hornier.

Your hands grab the bed sheets as Jeff takes control. He relentlessly thrusts into your mouth. You slobber over his length, drool now dripping from the sides of your mouth. You're nothing more than a cocksleeve to him. And god does it feel better than you expected. Your vision is blurry; your own wetness starts to overwhelm you.

Finally, Jeff pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air. "Mmh — J–Jeff —" you struggle to say. You pathetically pant like a wild dog.

"Awh, speak clearly, bitch. You're a fucking mess," Jeff taunts. "You liked that? You liked my cock in your mouth?"

The heat is rising to your cheeks. Your eyes are teary. You're so fucking shameless when you reply, "Yes... Yes, I did."

"Of course you fucking did." Jeff pushes you down on the bed. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You hold in a breath; he grins. Jeff pulls the garment off your legs, leaving you bare and exposed. "Wet just from sucking my dick. Holy shit, you're more of a whore than I thought."

You bite the inside of your cheek. His words burn into you.

Jeff crawls over your body. He's much larger than you; it makes you question if he'll even fit. He spits in his hand and gives his dick a few pumps before lining it up with your entrance. You brace yourself and spread your legs farther, giving him the room to inch closer. But before he pushes inside, he gives you another look, no longer smiling. Your eyes meeting his, you see a shift in the blue pools. "Tell me you want this," he says.

His serious tone sets you back to reality.

You don't even know him.

You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't let him inside you, or allow him to treat you like this, but your body is twitching with desire, and his skin feels so warm against yours. You haven't felt this way in so long. He's a serial killer, but he spared you...

"...I do. I want this," you reply, voice sounding more needy than you intended. "Please. I want this, J–Jeff."

He doesn't say anything.

But then you feel it: his entire length slams into you. You cry out a quivering moan; your back arches against his hips. Jeff pins your wrists against the mattress. "God damn..." he groans. "You're so tight. Like a fucking virgin..."

Jeff leans down and presses wet kisses against your neck. The sloppiness makes you want to cringe, but his unrelenting thrusts send jolts of pleasure surging through your body.

"Dirty slut, letting a complete — f–ffuck...! — letting a complete str–stranger use you like this," Jeff growls. He bites down on your neck; you can't suppress your humiliating moans.

He's covering you with marks and bruises, growing harder each time you wince and tense up. You can't complain as his cock hits all the right spots.

"I could kill y–you so fucking easily." He gives a harsh thrust. "But I bet you'd like that."

"Nnh — Y–Yes...!" you reply, not sure if you're agreeing with him, or referencing the sex. "Mmore — fuck me more!"

"What's it look like I'm doing, dumbass..." He lets go of your small wrists — which are now red from his tight grip — and grabs onto your shoulders.

His nails dig into your skin. He pulls you into him as he fucks you in sync. Jeff's aggressive and lacks any rhythm. He's cursing under his breath with almost every thrust.

"Fuck... Damn whore...! Fucking shit, you're tight —!" His words are there, but they go unregistered by you. You're too overcome with stupid bliss.

"Uuugh! Jeff!" you moan. Jeff's cock is buried deep inside you, stretching you out, making you feel so fucking fulfilled. A wave of ecstasy rushes through you like never before. "Jeff... Jeff..! Th–This is good — Mm'more...!"

Your entire body is trembling. Your moist walls clench around his dick. Legs giving out, your thick arousal gushes out from you and stains the sheets. But Jeff isn't done yet. He rams into you — harder, faster, mercilessly.

You're practically limp. Your head thumps against the mattress with each thrust. You lose the ability to talk, only able to whimper and moan; but the sounds of your voices are drowning out as you're intoxicated by the pleasure.

"Fuck... Fuck!" Jeff moans a final time. With a shudder of his hips, Jeff pulls out. Loads of warm, white liquid shoot out onto your stomach. You feel yourself sinking into the bed.

Jeff holds his flaccid dick in his hand, come still leaking out from the tip. He's staring down at you, both of you breathing heavily. There's a moment of silence, a mutual understanding that you need to regain your composure. But it doesn't last long.

"Ha... Hah, what a fucking night..." he mutters. Jeff gets off the bed before you do, already beginning to throw on his clothes.

"...Jeff?" you say, sitting up. "Are you leaving?" You don't know why you're asking, especially with such a soft tone.

"No shit," Jeff replies. "But," he pulls his hoodie down, "I might have to tell old man Slender about you." Again, he grins.

"Old man who?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Jeff heads to the window. Your heart sinks as he fiddles with the locks. This stranger — local serial killer — is leaving you... and you, for some sick fucking reason, don't want him to. You want him to stay. Maybe you wish you could feel his warmth for longer. But you can't control his actions. You couldn't even get your friend here — so why would this man stay for you? Jeff's already crawling over the windowsill, and you're achingly empty.

But before he leaves, he turns to look at you. And he says, in a hushed tone that makes your heart flutter —

"Just know you'll be seeing me again."

[brainddeadd]

Not You

Reader is Jack Hughes' best friend. Quinn Hughes is in love with her. Years of friendship go by before he finally asks her on a date, but reader is hesitant because of his sleeping around.

Warnings: kinda angsty, kinda fluffy, kiss, Jack being an actual grown up and giving good advice

“They're not you!” Quinn exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I'm well aware of that!" She shoots back, her heart racing.

“No,” he sighs, his voice dropping an octave. “I've been going out and sleeping around and going on fucking terrible dates with awful people trying to get over you because you don't want me, but they are not you."

"Quinn—"

“I have been trying to get over you for so long but I don't want anyone else. Do you know what it's like to sleep with someone or go on a date and wish with every fiber of your being that it was someone else sitting across from you, under you, touching you? ‘Cause I do.” He laughs bitterly, the sound breaking her heart. “And it fucking sucks, YN. To want the one person you can't have."

She bites her lip, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her. “I’m scared, Quinn. I can’t just forget everything. You’ve been with other people.”

“Those people mean nothing to me,” he insists, stepping closer, desperation etched across his face. “Every single time, I’d look at them and imagine you. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

His intensity leaves her breathless, and she struggles to find the right words. “But what if it doesn’t work? What if we end up ruining our friendship?”

Quinn’s eyes soften, vulnerability spilling over as he leans in. “I’d rather risk our friendship than keep pretending I don’t want you. Can’t you see? I’ve been in love with you for years. I don’t want to sleep around. I want to be with you.”

Her heart races, the tension in the air crackling like static. “I just don’t know if I can handle that kind of risk.”

“You won’t know until you try,” he implores, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make it work. I just need you to give me a chance.”

Quinn’s words hang in the air, heavy with possibility. She can feel her walls starting to crumble, but fear still grips her heart. “I… I need time to think.”

“Take all the time you need,” he replies, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Just know that I’m serious about us. I’m not going anywhere.”

As he steps back, the distance between them feels immense, yet the connection remains electrifying. She watches him, torn between fear and longing, realizing that what he offers could change everything.

“Okay,” she finally says, the word feeling both like a promise and a challenge. “I’ll think about it.”

Quinn nods, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “That’s all I ask.”

As she watched him, a whirlwind of emotions churned within her—hope battling with anxiety. She turned her gaze to the ground, trying to gather her thoughts, but the reality of what had just transpired echoed in her mind.

“I just don’t want to get hurt,” she admitted quietly, almost to herself.

Quinn took a step closer again, his expression softening. “I get that. I really do. But I promise you, I’m not like those guys. I won’t treat you like a passing fling.”

“Then why did you sleep with them?” she questioned, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you cared so much…”

“Because I thought I could move on,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I thought maybe the feelings would fade, and I could forget. But every time I tried, it just made me realize how much I want you.”

She swallowed hard, the tension between them still palpable. “You’re putting a lot on the line here, Quinn.”

“I’m willing to risk it all for you. I have been for a long time,” he confessed, his gaze unwavering. “I just want you to see that I’m serious about this.”

“Let’s say I do give you a chance. What would that even look like?” she asked, curiosity creeping into her voice.

Quinn smiled softly, the tension easing slightly as he thought about it. “We take it slow. We go out on real dates, not just grabbing food after games. We find out what makes each other laugh, what our favorite things are. We go to the places we love and make new memories together.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought, but doubts still nagged at her mind. “What if we end up ruining our friendship?”

“Then we’ll fix it,” he replied, his tone steady. “I refuse to let anything come between us. You mean too much to me.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. “I just need time to process this,” she said, her voice firm yet soft.

“Of course,” he nodded, respect evident in his eyes. “I’ll give you space. But just remember, I’m here, waiting for you to make your choice.”

As he turned to leave, she called out to him, her heart racing. “Quinn?”

He stopped and looked back, his expression hopeful.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” she said, a small smile breaking through her uncertainty.

He returned her smile, a genuine one that lit up his face. “Always.”

After he walked away, she leaned against the wall, her heart still racing. The conversation replayed in her mind, each word igniting a mix of excitement and fear.

What if they took this leap together? What if it all went wrong? But what if it went right?

The uncertainty felt overwhelming, but deep down, a flicker of hope began to bloom. Maybe it was time to confront her fears, to take a chance on something that could be extraordinary.

With a determined breath, she resolved to think things through. Whatever the outcome, she knew one thing for certain: the bond they shared was worth fighting for.

~~

Later that evening, she found herself sitting in the cozy living room of Jack’s apartment. The faint sound of a hockey game played in the background, but her mind was too consumed to pay attention. Jack was sprawled on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen, but he could sense her unease.

“Hey, you good?” he asked, turning to her with a quizzical look.

“Yeah, just… thinking,” she replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“About Quinn?” Jack’s tone was casual, but she could tell he was paying close attention.

“Maybe,” she said, biting her lip. “He… he confessed that he wants to be more than friends.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin breaking across his face. “Finally! I thought he’d never get his act together.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to mask her anxiety with a laugh. “It’s not that simple. I mean, he’s been with other people, Jack. What if he just thinks he wants me because he can’t find anyone else?”

“Come on, YN,” Jack said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Quinn isn’t like that. He genuinely cares about you. He’s not some random guy who’s going to flake out after a few dates. You know that.”

“I do,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair. “But I’m scared. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. We’ve been through so much together.”

“That’s exactly why you should give him a chance,” Jack urged, leaning forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “You guys have a solid foundation. If it doesn’t work out, you’ll find a way to navigate it. But what if it does work? What if you both figure out that you’re better together?”

She thought about Quinn’s words from earlier, his raw honesty and the way he had poured his heart out to her. “He said he’s tired of sleeping around and just wants me. It’s kind of hard to ignore that.”

“Exactly! It sounds like he’s done playing games. He’s ready for something real,” Jack encouraged, a smile creeping onto his face. “And if he’s willing to put himself out there like that, you should at least consider it.”

“But what if it ends badly?” she asked, her voice small. “What if we break each other’s hearts?”

Jack shrugged. “That’s a risk in any relationship. But look at it this way: you both care about each other deeply. You can’t let fear keep you from exploring something that could be amazing.”

She sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I know you’re right. It’s just… hard to shake off that fear.”

“Just take your time. Think about what you really want. You don’t have to rush into anything,” Jack said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “But don’t ignore your feelings. They’re telling you something for a reason.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She felt a wave of gratitude for Jack, appreciating how he always knew how to guide her through tough situations.

“Quinn’s a good guy. If anyone can handle your heart, it’s him,” he added with a grin.

As the game continued on TV, she found herself lost in thought, weighing Jack’s words. Maybe it was time to confront her fears head-on.

The idea of giving Quinn a chance flickered like a light in her mind, pushing back the shadows of doubt.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said softly, glancing over at her best friend. “I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” he replied, flashing her a reassuring smile.

~~

After her conversation with Jack, she felt a surge of determination. She needed to talk to Quinn—clear the air and explore what was between them. With a deep breath, she grabbed her jacket and headed out, her heart racing as she made her way to his apartment.

When she arrived, she hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was making the right choice. But she couldn’t ignore the pull she felt toward him, the way his words had lingered in her mind. With one last deep breath, she knocked on the door.

A moment later, Quinn opened it, surprise flickering across his face. “YN! I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

“Of course!” he said, stepping aside to let her in. The space was cozy, a mix of sports memorabilia and comfortable furniture. He looked casual in a T-shirt and sweats, but she felt the intensity of his gaze on her.

Once the door closed behind her, she turned to face him, her heart pounding. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Quinn said, his voice low as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m glad you came.”

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “I talked to Jack earlier. He… he helped me see things a bit more clearly.”

Quinn’s eyes brightened with hope. “And?”

“I want to give us a chance,” she admitted, the words feeling both exhilarating and terrifying. “But I think we should take it slow. I’m not ready to dive into anything without knowing we can handle it.”

“Slow sounds good to me,” he replied, relief washing over his features. “I want to do this right, to make sure you’re comfortable. We can take as much time as we need.”

“Okay,” she said, her heart fluttering at his response. “Let’s just see where this goes, day by day.”

Quinn stepped closer, closing the distance between them. The air around them seemed to shimmer with anticipation. “I’ve wanted this for so long, YN. I want to explore all of you—the things you love, your dreams, everything.”

She smiled, feeling warmth spread through her. “I want that too.”

As they stood facing each other, the atmosphere shifted, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Quinn’s eyes held a mixture of longing and sincerity, and she felt her heartbeat quicken.

“Can I—” he began, hesitating as if weighing his words carefully. “Can I kiss you?”

The question hung in the air, and she felt a rush of exhilaration. “Yes. Please.”

With that, Quinn closed the space between them, his hands gently cradling her face as he leaned in. Their lips met softly at first, a tentative exploration that sent shivers down her spine. The world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

Quinn’s lips moved against hers, warm and inviting, and she responded instinctively, her hands finding their way to his shoulders. As the kiss deepened, she felt a surge of emotions—relief, desire, and a sense of belonging all mingling together. He tasted of warmth and sweetness, a hint of mint from the gum he had been chewing.

Their breaths mingled, and she felt the urgency building between them as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire within her that she hadn’t realized had been smoldering all along.

Quinn’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer, as if trying to meld their bodies together. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the moment, savoring the taste of him, the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

Time seemed to stand still, the kiss stretching into something breathtaking, a moment she wished could last forever. She could feel the tension and longing that had built between them finally breaking free, unleashing a torrent of emotions she had kept locked away.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, their foreheads resting against each other, the world around them slowly came back into focus.

“Wow,” Quinn breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes shimmering with awe.

“Wow,” she echoed, her heart racing as she processed the intensity of the kiss.

“I guess taking it slow might be the best decision we ever make,” he said, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Definitely,” she replied, feeling a warmth blossom in her chest.

As they stood there, the distance between them faded, and she knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful—a new chapter filled with possibilities, each moment waiting to unfold.

[k0juki]

Pleaseee…please write something with ski aggu…we’re starving vro⛩️

He is so fckng fine ❤️😏

Friends don't do that

Ski Aggu x reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner! Not edited!

A/n: little midnight surprise 💙

Wc: 1.2k

---

Being in the same friend group with a person you absolutely adore and can't take your eyes off, is really, really hard. And it's even worse when that person is your best friend, Aggu. He is simply gorgeous.

Sometimes it was hard to watch him interact with so many women and men. They threw themselves at him, but you couldn't blame them. Who wouldn't do that?

"Are you jealous?" You asked, as the unwanted stranger left after Aggu remarked that you didn't want to grab some drinks with that guy. You were at some lame party and this guy was trying to know you a bit, but he didn't stand a chance. There was Aggu to stop that.

"What? Me? No, never." He muttered and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you more into his side. It was strange to see him like that. To keep you by his side all the time. Keeping you to himself, but you didn't mind at all. You were glad that it was you who he wanted beside him and not some random person.

"Hmm, right. So you wouldn't mind if I'll go get something to drink, right?" You knew you caught him here. Maybe he wasn't jealous, but he still didn't want you to leave him. Without other questions you stood up, but before you could go anywhere, Aggu asked you.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to the toilet, don't worry. I'm not going to that weirdo." You loved to mess with him. To rile him up a little.

"Oh, okay."

As you disappeared from their sights, Joost immediately turned to look at his friend and said.

"Man, you're smitten." Joost remarked, smirking. Seeing how his friend was acting around you.

"What are you talking about?" His red face and ears were a sign that he was lying.

Joost knew that. On the other hand, he hoped that he will make a move and told you as soon as possible. If he won't, there will always be someone who will do that.

"C'mon don't pretend, well, at least not in front of me."

Aggu sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand, obviously in distress. He knew he couldn't keep something like that a secret. "Is it that obvious?"

"For me? Yes, it is."

"Shit."

"You gotta tell her. She won't be single forever..." Joost urged, and he was right.

"I know, but what if I'm not her type? Or she'll say something like I wanna stay friends, sorry." This sentence really scared him. He would rather be forever friends with you, then destroying something that could be one-sided.

"She won't. She's literally just as smitten as you are." Joost insisted, trying to calm him down.

But before Aggu could say something, you came back with a smile on your pretty face. You sat back down in your seat next to Aggu. He wrapped his arm back around your shoulders, as it was before.

"What were you guys talking about?" You innocently asked and looked at Aggu, then at Joost and then back at Aggu. Feeling him tense a bit, you frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." He answered with a dry laugh and rubbed his hand on your shoulder in resurance.

You gave him a strange look, but didn't ask more. If he wanted to tell you something, then he would. "Okay...but why are you both acting so weird?"

"We're not." They answered at the same time. Aggu sent a warning look to Joost. Telling him to stop it, immediately.

You spent the rest of the evening in Aggu's and Joost's company. But the longer you stayed here, in the center of the party, the more you wanted to go home. It was getting too noisy and you didn't want your head hurt that much the next day.

"Are you okay?" Aggu asked, realizing how quiet you became.

"Yeah, my head just hurts a bit from that loud music."

"Do you wanna go home?"

You just nodded your head yes. Feeling tired all of sudden.

Aggu didn't need to be told twice. You and him said your goodbyes to Joost and left.

You knew he wouldn't leave you alone, so there wasn't even a point in persuading him to stay at the party.

"It was fine. I'm glad I went." You told him, sending a smile his way. He returned the gesture, sending you one right back.

"Yeah, me too."

Normally you didn't mind that awkward silence, but this time it felt different. Like both of you wanted to say something, but neither of you could bring yourself to say it.

"Do you, perhaps, want to sleep over at my place tonight?" Aggu asked and reached his hand for yours.

"Yeah, I would like that." You answered him and took his hand. Many times before you had slept over his place. Because that's what best friends do, right? They are everywhere together. They do everything together.

---

"I prepared some clothes for you to change into."

"Thank you Aggu." You took his clothes from him and made your way to the bathroom to shower and then change.

He gave you one of his boxers and white shirt with Bambi on it. It is one of your favourite ones, and he knows that. It was too big for you, but you really didn't mind, it smelled like him. Maybe that's why you liked it that much.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought how you actually ended up here. In this situation.

Sighing, you left the bathroom and noticed that Aggu was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone. When he noticed you, he put his phone down. He had to say that he loved to see you in nothing, but his clothes.

"Aggu." You said with a small smile as he kept on staring.

"Aggu." Still nothing, but you could see how his mouth was turning up to a little smile.

"Aggu." You looked down on your feet, feeling hot in the face as he was staring at you.

"I love when you say my name."

You raised your head and made eye contact with him. He was looking right into your eyes.

"You do?"

"I do."

He stood up and made his way towards you. Still holding eye contact, neither of you breaking it. Stepping closer, he carefully put his hands on your hips and said.

"Friends don't look at each other like we do..."

"And we are friends?" You asked, looking into his eyes.

"I'm hoping to be something more..." Aggu admitted. Waiting for your protests, but you didn't say anything.

You put your left hand on the back of his neck, softly running your fingers through the ends of his hair and other hand on his jaw. Leaning closer to him, but keeping safe distance if he didn't want to kiss you back.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked and licket his lips. His focus full on you. "One little kiss won't change our friendship, right?"

"Yeah, you're probably right."

He leaned in and kissed you.

His hands that were on your hips pulled you closer. He pushed you against the cold wall behind you, making goosebumps swarm all over your body. He traced your curves with his hands as he deepened the kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. Your hands gripped the back of his head, as his hands squeezed and teased you, as you moaned into the kiss.

You break apart after a few seconds. A smile on both of your faces as you breathed.

"I love that taste of you." Aggu admitted and dipped his head lower and started kissing your neck. "I love it.”

---

Don't copy or translate my work!

[oksana-moods]

All Too Well

Summary: Natasha tried to mend what's left broken. Because no matter what, she's the love of your life and she knows all too well.

A/N: It's been forever. This 5k piece felt like I was writing 300k, it was difficult, funny, hard and I miss doing this more often. I hope you guys like it and please, it be amazing for me to know your thoughts about it.

You can read it as One Too Many part 2 or as a single piece, it is up to you.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, mentions of death, alcohol, angst (you know how I am, I can't simply write people kissing without suffering before).

"Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place"

The gun pointing at your face barely meters away should be intimidating, but at this point no one would blame you for not caring anymore. And you didn’t even mean the last couple of days, no, your whole life had been a fight, a struggle, an act of survival after another, so the last few days were nothing but the same blur.

The gunpower inundated your nostrils and the pungent smell masqueraded the smell of blood that clung to your brain and you were sure you wouldn’t erase it even if you got out of your current establishment.

Your heightened senses were capable of decerning all the different blood samples available in your cell: yours and from other occupants that came before you, or the blood that belonged to some of your kidnappers, who’ve learned in the worst possible way that you were not to be underestimated.

Back to the gun, the man behind it kept enchanting the same questions and you wondered how long it would take for them to get tired of your silence or mock replies. A sharp pain in the back of your head made you look up to meet his eyes, another man behind you was forcefully pulling your hair down to force your head up and you were already tired of him doing this.

“Where are the others?” The man with the gun asked, patience waning thin. Good to know you were on the same page. “Where is Romanoff?”

A blooded grin made its way to your face after you spat on his shoe. “It’s funny you think I’ll tell you now after all you’ve put me through. Do you think I’m afraid of your bullet?” And you didn’t even mean the fact that you probably wouldn’t die if he decided to shoot anywhere else other than your head, but you did mean that you were not afraid of dying.

Actually, you were so tired that perhaps laying down cold wouldn’t be unwelcomed. There wouldn’t be any pain, your body wouldn’t try to heal only to get hurt again. You thought it would be refreshing.

Two steps and the man pressed the gun over your knee, and you already knew, his wicked grin grew wider when your body convulsed with pain even though you concealed your scream in muffled grunts by biting your lips so tide you tasted your own blood, again.

“Why don’t you make it easier for you? You tell me what I’ve asked, and I kill you fast.” He pulled a chair and got comfortable for he knew all too well you wouldn’t budge easy. “I promise you. One silver bullet in your temple. Fast. Easy.”

Your eyes flashed to his. Silver bullets were really affective against your healing skills and very few possessed this knowledge. Someone must’ve tipped him off and the idea stung way much more than the powder burning the flesh inside your knee.

Only two women knew your weakness. Well, your creators knew, of course, but they were not in condition of speaking anymore. Unless someone from this organization was capable of going to hell to have a chat and then return to the living world with this intel.

Your love for Yelena was something so natural and it grew so fast for she was just deranged as you were: uncapable of functioning as what people labeled as normal. You were kindred souls and you felt like you were twins separated somewhere along the road and considering both of your past, who actually knew?

After long nights during long missions, you confided in her this. You were scared of losing control because sometimes the beast inside you took over and your brain couldn’t always sway the instincts. So you handed her one silver bullet in case things went south, she was adamant in returning it to you but you asked her to keep it, for insurance.

And the other person was Natasha. You never knew how she learned this but when she recruited you many, many years ago she already knew. If the pain in your leg wasn’t so overwhelming, you could’ve laughed at the memory engulfing your mind’s eye.

Her tide catsuit adorned with nothing but her black widow symbol, swaying her hips and pretending she wasn’t scared of the woman seated in front of her. You remember how her fear smelled, a stark contrast to her pose. You recall her words, her smile, her flirtatious play all to convince you to use your skills to her so called greater good.

And before leaving, she boldly closed the distance between you and placed a silver bullet in your hand. You understood the message. You weren’t stupid. Later she sworn that she was the only one, at S.H.I.E.L.D. or within Avengers, to know your weakness and you believed her.

And this belief comes back to bite you in the ass.

Because you knew full well that Yelena would die, she would kill herself even, before telling someone your secret. But Natasha? You didn’t trust her anymore. She had done it before, and you knew it all too well. If you were to be honest, after one too many treasons, you didn’t care about another.

Or so you told yourself.

“Good luck.” You rasped out after a long time inside your own head.

The man tilted his head to the side and smiled that smile that told you he already knew what you would say. You would go further and say he was eager for it. “I think in the torture manual says I should tell you that I don’t enjoy this, but I’d be lying. We actually bet how long it will take for you to drop the act and start screaming.”

You bet no one thought it would be that fast. He stumped a knife down your thigh so fast and so hard you saw stars. You could feel the silver poisoning the skin and muscle where it was nested, and it burned like nothing else would.

Unfortunately for them, the apex in you was not used to be a prey and this injury was powerful enough to make your survival instincts kick in. It happened so fast it was a haze, one minute he was laughing, the other he was on the ground - lifeless, and just as the others came, they followed their leader – well, who you thought the leader was, at least.

Funnily, your countdown was wrong, or you were not the only one putting your captors down. As the blood ran free down your leg, your strength and capability of keeping fighting diminished. When a body collided with yours, it was a miracle you were still awake.

Her red hair framed her face perfectly, skin white as snow and her green orbs looked like there was an aurora borealis looking down at you as she nested you in her lap as you felt life slipping through your fingers - veins.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me.” Her voice was strange, as if speaking was a struggle and she reeked fear, but not the same you were used to, as if she was feeling a different type of fear, it was a strange concept, but you hated it, nonetheless. If these were your last moments breathing, you wanted her true smell. The one you knew all too well.

“Please, don’t you dare die. I’ve got you.” Her muffled words found your ear, but it was hard to even comprehend anything at all when her lips felt so cold in your forehead. “Heal. Why are you not healing?”

“Silver.” It was all you could say. It was all you had to say.

She frantically started yelling at someone, perhaps the comms, but before you could close your eyes for good, you saw a red blur and he was complaining about your weight.

Her giggle filled the room as the first sun lights announced the day had just begun, you looked at her alarmed, for it was definitely something new. “Are you mocking me?” Enable to conceal a smile yourself.

“I’m not.” She denied, but her laugh told you differently. Her freckles painted her angelical face and her eyes looked like they held the sun captive. And you. And she knew, all too well. “It’s just I can’t believe you still have this scar.”

Her index finger traced said scar as she looked at you expectantly, waiting for your explanation, even though she already knew.

“I didn’t know Wanda’s necklace was made of silver, okay.” You finally replied, pulling her close to you as if her weight meant nothing, right in that moment this action felt so normal, so homely that it ached. “I thought I could take it from that heated place for her, but it burned me as I did. It was silly.”

She giggled again, though muffled by your shoulder this time, there was something new in her eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It was cute. Silly, but cute. That necklace belonged to her mother.”

“I know.” You were locked in her eyes, and she stared at you as if she was trying to reach your soul, then you felt her fingertip leaving the palm of your hand to intertwine your fingers as she let her eyes stray to look at both of your hands.

The feeling was overwhelming. You were aware of how fast your heart was beating, you could only hope she couldn’t feel or hear it, for in that moment, all you wanted was to engrave the sight of you, together, and you wish you could just have this forever. Have her forever.

“I’ve never felt this before.” Her brows were furrowed in a way that made you upset, but you wouldn’t let go of her hand for nothing in this world, even if it was to soothe the crinkles in her forehead. “I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, there was nothing that you could do but wait for your brain to register her words and meaning, for a whole minute you simply stared at her, trying to search for a catch or a joke but you found none. And she looked up at you so innocently that you found yourself believing in her.

“I thought-.” You tried, but she never let you finish your sentence.

“I know what I said.” She stopped you midsentence, but her voice was not stern, it was almost tired. “This is not what I feel anymore.” Again, her eyes found yours and the way they shone made your knees weak, luckily you were laying on her mattress.

Somehow, they conveyed so much of this feeling she had claimed she was not capable of nurturing that your stomach did somersaults. And right in that moment, you realized that perhaps silver could hurt you, but this woman was your true weakness.

Specially if she’s looking at you the way she was.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You whispered, it was terrifying saying again the three words that you were sure would make her fly away from this strange arrangement you found yourself in. Yet she didn’t.

“I know.” She confirmed after a while admiring your eyes as if she could read your mind. After deciding she was content with whatever she found, she leaned in and pecked your lips so tenderly it hurt.

Then, when she looked at you again you saw, from the small smirk growing in her lips, that she had gone back to play her prime character: the Black Widow.

“Let’s have a breakfast before the funeral, shall we?” As she got of the bad, you copied her movements going back to your own suitcase to find something comfortable as her voice broke the silence filling the room. “I never asked how you and Sharon became friends to the point you’d come to a funeral of her relative.”

The cleanliness of the room was the first thing you were aware of. In fact, you didn’t even realize you were awake, therefore alive, before the smell hit your nostrils. And with it, her scent.

The occasional up and down from her feet and bouncing leg was the only sound in the room except for the noise coming from the heart monitor over your head. She was anxious, that much was obvious even if you weren’t an enhanced being.

Mentally searching for your injuries and pain, you understood that whatever had happened with you, was all gone. Excluding the lingering pain in some specific places that you credited to silver induced wounds that would take way much more time to wear off.

However, considering the state you were in, whoever tended these wounds had operated a true miracle.

As you opened your eyes, you half expected bright lights, common to these hospital rooms to hurt your eyes, but you soon identified that the only source of light was a yellow bulb close to the door.

Natasha.

“Thanks for working the lights down.” You rasped out and stifled a giggle as she jumped from her chair by the wall and bolted to your bed side. The book previously nested between her hands now long forgotten on the floor.

The iron grip which she clutched your hand didn’t go amiss to you. “A week.” The sadness in her eyes was palpable. “A whole week blacked out.” She explained further but you didn’t need to know the details of how long you were sleeping or how many times your heart stopped at surgery.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Then it hit you, the same type of fear your nose caught when she found you in that facility, it was fear but not the one someone feels when they’re actively facing danger, but it was fear for someone else. Fear of losing someone.

Something stirred inside your heart, but it was something that you couldn’t dwell much longer, not, at least, in that moment.

“They had me, after you sent me as scout.” Your tone was flat, and her eyes widened a little at the bluntness of your accusation, though you were far from settling for little. “They knew about the silver.”

Her hold faltered, but your hand was still snuggled between hers. “What are you accusing me of?” She narrowed her eyes, but her green orbs were bright even in the poor light.

“Cynicism doesn’t suit you the way you think it does.” Before you could even pull back your hand, she completely let it go and got to her feet. “Look at my eyes and tell me that you actually didn’t let them get me, just to find their hideout.”

She had her back turned to you, acutely avoiding your gaze. “Look at me!” You demanded and she had the gall to look at you through her lashes, as if her seductive skills could help her now. You wouldn’t fall for that, and she knew it all too well.

“It wasn’t my intention for you to be captured and I never thought someone else would know about your weakness. I thought I was the only one alive to know.” She finally turned to you, eyes now darting around the floor as if it could grant her the answers she sought.

“Lena knows too.” You corrected her, but if she was surprised by your update, she never showed.

Shaking her head right to left as if to deny such possibility, she exclaimed. “She’d never do this to you.” It was funny that at least in this matter you agreed. “I think she loves you more than she loves me.” A sly smile escaped her lips and you had to restrain your heart from fluttering at the sight of it.

“I was waiting for your check-in. I went to your assigned coordinates, and I know I underestimated their numbers, but I would never let someone capture you.” Her feet dragged her back close to your bed but maintained some distance between you.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You shot back without missing a single beat, crossing your arms around your chest.

She sighed tiredly and looked down at the floor. You wouldn’t let her forget that she was the main cause for you to be locked in the Raft, well, her and your support for Steve when Ross tried to shove the Sokovian Accords down your throat, and solely because you shared his point of view.

After being controlled for most of your life by a group with shady intentions, you swore you’d never submit your loyalty and services to a third party again, even if it was a government group – specially a government group, actually, so only over your dead body you’d accept the Accords.

But when you came back to see if Natasha was fine, she had gone without thinking that you were left behind and in the care of Ross to be taken to the Raft with the others, without sparing a single thought to you.

“I’d never ever willingly put you in danger.” She said taking another step closer to you. “I have never mentioned to anyone about your secret, and I purposefully kept it out of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files.”

Her eyes kept darting from her hands to your eyes, never focusing, never staying too long. “Look, I know Yelena would never speak about it, but I wouldn’t either. And I didn’t, you must believe me!”

“I must?” Your eyebrows shot up so high so fast it hurt. “Well, you made it pretty damn hard for me to believe, don’t you think, Nat?” Your tone was hard, but you were not even speaking too loud.

Somehow, Natasha thought this hurt way much more.

“C’mon all I feel for you-” She tried to counter, but you wanted to swallow the lump stuck in your throat trying to choke you, so you cut her midsentence.

“Words, Natasha.” She found herself locked within your burning eyes. “I kept you as an oath, yet you hid me like another dirty secret. And all you’ve felt you kept hidden – buried – just as who you really are.”

After years thinking about how she lured and how she hurt you, you thought that maybe spatting what your relationship really was – a hidden lust, would make you feel better, would free yourself from her hold, but it didn’t.

After all, calling her unfair wouldn’t change how lonely she made you feel, how she took your happiness away whenever she drew herself back to her main character as she left you daydreaming about imaginary scenarios built in “what ifs”.

As your words found her ears, they settled heavily in her stomach. She knew she had massed up, she had hurt you many times, yet all she wanted was go back in time and erase all her wrongs and all the times she promised and never delivered.

She didn’t possess a time stone, though. There was nothing she could do about the past, however, she knew she couldn’t run from her mistakes anymore. If she wanted to start anew, she’d have to show she was different.

She wanted to, no, she needed you to understand that she was a whole new person because you’ve changed her. She didn’t want to hide anymore and for that she’d have to let go of her walls and be vulnerable. Truly vulnerable.

Funnily, she had played with her vulnerability before, being vulnerable just enough for people to lower their shields or masks so she could get what she wanted but this was something else entirely.

This time she wouldn’t act. She’d be vulnerable, at your mercy hoping she’d make it out alive on the other side. It was something new and it scared her, but losing you was scarier.

“I didn’t know you came back to check on Barton…” She tried weakly, knowing that this was a sore subject for the both of you. Each with your own views and reasons.

“I helped Clint, yes, but we went back looking for you. Yet, Ross was all we’ve found.” Your glare was cold, perhaps colder than ever. In the pit of her stomach, she knew she deserved it, she just wish you could move on with it.

“I was wrong, okay. Is that what you want to hear?” She snapped, though her voice was still in a low tone, eyes sad. And you hated it. “I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for not going after you that day at the airport or at the Raft.”

Her eyes fell once more to your hands, she slowly nursed them in hers and this action was so soft, so hesitantly as if she was afraid of you taking it away; afraid of you shutting her down once more.

“I wish I could do things differently, but I can’t, and for that I’m sorry. But I- I wish we could try move on from this. I still have feelings for you.” As words flowed through her tongue, you watched as eyes portrayed a sincerity that you rarely saw within those forest green orbs.

Usually, they hid her true feelings or performed like an actress twisting her truths mixed with pieces of lies and characters she created through life until she herself was unaware of what was true or not.

“I hear you, Natasha.” You rasped out after a long moment lost inside her beautiful eyes. “You speak of things as you did before, yet you never act on it.”

Her hands were warm, a muted invitation to go back to your dreams of having a life with her. The only person who never showed any sign of fear about your nature, that never once treated you like an animal.

She never treated you like a woman either.

“I want you to show me.” Your stone-cold eyes punctuated your feelings in the matter at hand. If she wanted to have you back, she’d have to show you she’s changed for words could only take her so far.

“I will.” She vowed and smiled softly, though her heart was shattering inside her chest. She made a career making people believe in whatever she wanted, she supposed she’d be able to make you believe in her heart.

How hard would that be?

Laugh filled the room after another not-so-funny Tony’s jokes and your head throbbed as the sound echoed inside your skull. Parties like these were always a torture for you, after all, your enhanced abilities of hearing and catching smells better than a normal person proved to be really awful in a place full of people with different perfumes, scents, chattering and loud music.

However, Tony himself forbid you from leaving tonight for this was his engagement party and it would be rude to Pepper if you left too early. Deciding that indulging him was easier than arguing with him, you found a safe corner and pretended to enjoy whatever was going on.

Though, your sharp eyes, even though you tried hard, always wandered after a certain redhead and you could all but clench your jaw every time you judged someone got too closer for your comfort.

Jealousy clawed its way through your throat and even the best bourbon from the bar couldn’t help it. You knew you had no right, no claim, especially after your last conversation. Still, your heart acted on its own and made sure you’d regret your words and resolve.

Considering that you were one drink from scooping lower than ever for her, you abandoned your glass on a random table and vanished to the balcony in hopes the fresh air could help your head and brain.

The cars down the streets ran from side to side completely unaware of your inner turmoil as you pathetically looked down searching for answers you wouldn’t find there.

In fact, as your answers arrived at the balcony, you realized that her hills clicking the marble floor announced her before her perfume invaded your nostrils in waves as she moved closer and closer towards you.

“Tired of mingling?” She asked as she lined her body at the railing. Her red hair bobbed around her ears in meticulously designed waves and her dark maroon dress hugged her curves in all the nice places.

She was flawless.

As always.

“I think I might’ve break Sam with incredible five words.” You gave her a sly smile that she retributed with a smirk and a fake gasp.

“This is basically a whole speech.” She clicked her tongue playfully. “I think you’ve been around Tony just too much.”

You snorted a laugh and she let a broad smile paint her lips, content with herself for making you ease the pained expression adorning your face the whole evening.

Uncertenty hugged you like a cold blanket as you pondered your next words. As if rolling the dices in a game you were sure you’d end up losing, you turned to her and spoke. “You’re really beautiful tonight, Nat.”

Your heart fluttered as she fought back a smile trying to win her lips and looked down as if she wasn’t expecting your praise. She genuinely looked flustered by your words.

“Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself. Well, I already praised your choice of suit, earlier.” She turned her body so now she was fully looking at you and you tried to remember how to properly breath. However, it was as if the air was composed of her scent.

You were intoxicated.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused. “This is the first time we speak tonight.” You clarify. Truth be told you’ve been keeping a fair distance from her and funnily enough she didn’t make the effort to push you and your comfort space.

She did make it obvious that she was trying, though. She invited you out in front of people, she brought you coffee whenever you were reading in the garden in the morning or brought you a blanket when you were on the couch watching movies with Wanda.

Whenever you were called to a meeting, she worked the lights so it wouldn’t hurt your eyes that much. And, one day, she brought you the files they recovered from Hydra from the mission you were taken, and you both learned that one of your creators left behind a journal and there were a lot of dirty secrets down there. Including yours.

To be honest, she was really trying to show her true intentions, but you were still afraid that this was just for show, just a ploy for you to lower your guard and be disappointed after she return to her normal pattern of misleading.

However, the way she stood basking in the moon light looking at you like she was slowly sipped through the cracks of your determination of not giving in that easy.

Her soft smile was a sight to see, and you even forgot that you were waiting for her to reply. “Directly, yes. I sent a drink to you earlier.”

Then it clicked in your head. Your laugh was loud and very uncharacteristic of you, though Natasha simply stood there admiring your carefree stance, a rare occurrence.

Your mind traveled to a moment earlier that night when the waiter approached you with a drink in hand, stating that the lady had sent it to you complimenting your fine tailored suit. At the time, the way he vaguely waved in the direction of Agatha and other ladies, you thought that one of them had been the person.

Though if you thought harder about it, Natasha was at the bar in that moment, right behind said ladies.

“Now it made sense.” You grinned back at her and nodded your head softly. “Thank you for the compliment and the drink.”

“Of course.” She flashed on last smile and turned her body to admire the city bellow and you did the same. Though you found it hard to ignore her presence by your side. You could feel the heat emanating from her skin, her sweet scent still impregnating the air around you and you could hear her fast heartbeat. It was uncommon.

In a haste, you both turned towards each other and started to speak at the same time. A nervous laugh scaped your lips as you signaled for her to go on first. And she did.

She closed her eyes as one does when bracing for the impact, as if second-guessing her next step, but when she opened her eyes again, there was no doubt and no deceit. “I love you and it’s ruining my life not having you, knowing that I am the one who pushed you away.”

You were speechless by her blunt confession, specially because she never, ever, used the word love in such a direct sentence. She expressed her feelings before, yes, but always with an adore, in love with you once or twice, never this straight.

She took your silence as hesitancy and reached for your hand, she yearned for your touch and the closeness of the last weeks made her heart clench with longing. “I am asking for a chance to show you who I really am, and I, please, I know I’ve made mistakes, but I wish to make it up to you.”

Her eyes were pools of emotion and you had trouble in breathing with her so close now. “Please, let me love you the way you deserve, the way I should’ve since the very first time I kissed your lips.” Her free hand caressed your cheek in such a tender way that you felt your knees weak.

She was definitely your true weakness.

You brain was haywire, short-circuiting with the lack of air and the sudden increase in your heartbeats. There she was. The woman you felt like you could love forever, offering you what you always wanted: her heart. For real this time. Not the hide and seek games you’ve been playing in the past.

She promised and have been showing changes, however, if you were to be honest, all she’d have to do was to come at you and say hi. If you were to be honest, she would always have your heart at her mercy.

Unable to form words and knowing that your silence was unnerving for her, as you saw her brows furrowing, you decided to answer her differently as you brought your hand to her own cheek and guided her lips to meet yours.

Her lips were soft as they used to be, and you could feel her body melting into the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open when you broke the kiss and smiled softly at her. “I love you too, Nat.”

Smiling back at you, Natasha circled her arms behind your neck to pull you down for another kiss, and another. And another.

And you knew, all too well, that she wouldn’t stop soon.

taglist: @username23345; @afuckingshituniverse; @strangegardentaco; @waltermis (I know you didn't specifically asked to be tagged, but I am doing it, nonetheless, because if your rb - and because you sparked a fire in this. Thank you.)

[forgeofthenine]

hhgggg the bachelors in rut was so.. well, hot lol. I remember there being a previous ask about the bachelor's reacting to the reader being turned into a tiefling.

I was wondering, how would they handle said reader going into heat/rut for the first time?

I've taken an unexpected absence from Tumblr the last couple days, between prepping for Christmas and being extremely busy at work I basically had no time or energy. I did, however, write this while half asleep and on the flight to see my family, given the amount of turbulence we had when I finished it maybe even nature wanted me to write more lol. There's luckily still more stuff to come over the Christmas break :)

@swordcreature come get your food-

TW: NSFW under the cut, ABO dynamics, overstimulation, orgasm denial, impact play mention

The bachelors when their partner goes into heat/rut for the first time

Dammon

Dammon is so good at handling any new tiefling issues you might have, even if he laughs a bit at first

"Baby, if you angle your head to the left it'll make getting that top on easier.“

What completely slipped his mind was that you'd eventually develop a heat cycle just like all other Tieflings

As soon as walks into the house after a day of working in the forge the smell hits him

The entire house smells like pure lust, even a single step into the doorway is enough for his pupils to dilate and his throat to go dry

If you weren't already preoccupied, you'd hear the way he thumps up the stairs in his desperation to get to your bedroom

The door swings open with a slam as Dammon stands in the doorway looking half crazed

The sight of you spread out on the bed with two fingers knuckle deep, back arched, is almost enough to send him straight into an early rut

It's only your small whimper of how much it hurts that brings him back out of his haze, suddenly realising how confusing this must be at first

The bed dips as he sits on the side, leaning over you and placing a warm hand on your equally hot face to get your attention

As hard as Dammon is in his pants, he does check you're okay first and makes sure you drink water before he starts anything

It doesn't matter how much you complain or accuse him of teasing you, he wants to make sure you won't pass out on him

Once he's sure you're okay, all bets are off

As soon as he can, he's folding you over yourself and taking things into his own hands, quite literally

He makes sure you get off at least once to the feeling of his rough, calloused hands as he fingers you without abandon

It's only after you've cum once (or twice, or thrice) on his fingers that he'll finally indulge you with his throbbing cock

The feeling of you squeezing around him, whimpering out his name, is enough for Dammon to finally hit his own rut

He can't keep his hands off you, low rumbled praises leaving his lips as he bites at your collarbones

His cock reaches places in you your fingers never could, the flared head and ridged underside making your mind numb with pleasure

The tiefling keeps you there in bed for hours, switching you between positions as he fucks you until you're both exhausted, panting messes

You'll be well taken care of afterwards too, Dammon easily picking up your now sated body and putting you in a nice warm bath

He eases you through your first heat as well as one can, even if he's dealing with an unexpected rut at the same time

Zevlor

This man was your living tiefling encyclopaedia long before you accidentally became a tiefling yourself

Your questions increased after the accident, though, and suddenly Zevlor is answering questions he never thought he'd have to

Such as "does this mean I'll have a heat cycle now? What'll that feel like?" Among others

The question stops him in his tracks because logically yes you would have a heat cycle now, but he can't remember ever meeting someone that wasn't born a tiefling

Zevlor does his best to prepare you for what may happen, and when you finally come up to him one day to tug at his sleeve he can already smell your heat

He's another one that makes sure you're prepared beforehand, but it's much easier with how early he catches on

Once you've had something to eat and drink he's happy to lead you over to your shared bedroom

Zevlors so sweet as he leads you through the beginning of it all, sweet kisses down your chest and gentle touches over your hips

You'll find his face between your legs soon enough, happily devouring you like a man starved

As composed and proper as the paladin is, he can't deny that he'd spend the rest of his life here giving you head if you'd let him

Your reactions and the sweet smell of your heat spur him on, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you with ease

At some point his fingers join in too, the digits and his tongue bringing you to ecstasy repeatedly

It's only after he's made you a boneless, whining mess that he'll finally resurface, asking if you'd still like more

Zevlors pupils are blown wide, cock hard and twitching in his pants, his own rut creeping up on him

Once you give him the go ahead he's already tearing off his own clothes, or what's left of them anyway

He eases his cock into you slowly despite the ample preparation, enjoying the anticipation of finally bottoming out inside of you

Every squeeze and flutter you make around him pulls a low groan from the older tiefling, his hand anchoring itself on your hip

He's gentle with you the whole time, happily restraining the part of him that wants to go rougher, to take you like a madman

Instead, he leads you both to climax over and over again, pulling orgasms out of your needy body

When you've both finally had your fill, his own cock oversensitive and going soft within you, that he finally reaches over for the pitcher of water he set out earlier

Zevlor will, once again, help you to eat and drink a little before he holds you close and runs his hands over your bare skin

It's soothing, easing you off to sleep, Zevlor knows you'll need all your energy to do this all over again tomorrow

Rolan

Despite being an extremely smart man, Rolan often forgets about his own ruts and the fact you'll now be experiencing similar absolutely eludes him

He's quite happy to go about his normal business running Ramaziths Tower and ignoring most of his basic bodily needs

That is, until you collapse while helping him with cataloguing

He'd already known you were feeling unwell, the tiefling insisting you stay close to him for the day so he can keep an eye on you, and he just barely catches you before you hit the ground

The wizard takes in your flushed face and the needy way you paw at his clothed chest, already trying to pull away his layers

A realisation runs through him, you're in heat

Going with the first thought that runs through his head, Rolan sweeps you up into his arms and misty steps you over to your bedroom door

It's a fiddly thing trying to open it with you in his arms, that is until he remembers he can simply summon a mage hand to help

Unloading you onto the bed, he finally lets you pull away his top layers, flustered as the full gravity of the situation dawn's on him

Sure, you two have fucked plenty of times before now, but it's different when your desperately tugging at him like he's the very air you breathe

It's only when you snap at him, asking what's taking him so long, that he kicks back into gear

Unlike the other Tieflings, all thoughts of water or food completely evade his mind

It's not long before he has you ass up and face down, a mage hand holding your wrist together above your head as he thrusts three fingers inside of you

Rolan is just as mean in bed as he is out of it, bringing you right to the precipice before pulling his touch away all together

It hardly matters to him that you're in heat really, he's determined to tease you before bringing you mind shattering pleasure

He doesn't take all comfort from you though, pitying you as tears start to roll down your cheeks, his tail intertwining with yours as he finally lets you cum

Anyone in the tower could've heard your scream as you finally get the pleasure your body craves, and that's just how he likes it

Rolan happily takes you properly afterwards, a hand on your ass when he sinks his hard cock deep into you with a single stroke

His own rut kicked in hours ago, the sheer realisation that you were in heat sparking it

And he keeps you there, for hours, cataloguing long forgotten as he thrusts so deep into you that you swear he's reaching your stomach

He's as rough with you as he usually is, the odd smack laid on your ass, hands near bruising your hips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him

The two of you stay there like that, a tangle of limbs, well into the night

Until neither of you even have the energy to move

Rolan does eventually use his mage hand to get you both water before he pulls your head into his chest and encourages you to try and get some sleep

[phoenixblaze1412]

HII I'm sick 💀💀 can I get a fluffy fic where dottore and his segments all take care of u when ur sick? like they're all just so gentle with you and sweet to reader... - 🐓 anon

Aww anon I hope you get better soon!^^

You felt groggy as you made your way to the laboratory to help Dottore and his segments work. You looked at your reflection in one of the empty beakers and noticed how sickly pale you looked. Even Omega noticed how your movements were sluggish as you sorted out the documents given to you.

The segments all heard that one, single cough that you let out and in the next second, you are immediately circled around by them.

"Are you sick?" "Did you eat something bad?" "Did someone poisoned you?" "Are you feeling cold?"

The multipe questions directed your way started to suffocate you to the point that Dottore himself had to push the segments to the side just to give you some air.

"You ignorant fools! You're going to make them faint if you crowd around them!"

Dottore placed his hand to your forehead to check your temperature. You could only weakly lean away from him due to how cold his touch is.

"Darling, you have a fever. What on Teyvat were you doing that made you get it?"

You felt yourself being carried bridal style, your blurry vision can only make out the outline to the door of yours and Dottore's shared room. You let out a small whine when Dottore tucked you in bed before heading out the room.

"I'll be back soon, pet. I'm only going to grab your medicine."

You laid down in bed, a headache forming in your head as you tried to sleep it away but can't. You didn't hear the door creak open as you felt the bed dip at the new weight that appeared.

You opened your eyes to come face to face with the child and teen segments, Kappa and Eta. You noticed they were wearing a face mask with the design being the fatui symbol. The segments could only look at you in worry, their eyes staring at your pale skin, reddened eyes, and your runny nose.

You could only give them a weak smile before patting their heads in reassurance. Kappa could only whimper and hug your torso, he didn't like seeing you so weak in bed, it made him fear that you might die and leave them.

"Now now, you two. They need to take their medicine."

Eta had to pull Kappa away from you before they head out the room, Kappa whining and reaching out towards you as he didn't want to be away from you.

"You can visit them later, Kappa. Right now they need to consume their medicine and rest."

Dottore shooed the two away, closing the door before making his way towards you. You noticed he was holding a glass of water in his hand, on the other was a... pill.

"Dearest, you have to take this if you want to feel better soon."

Dottore watched as you hid yourself under the blankets, moving away from him when he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"'m gonna choke on that.."

You could only mutter a few words before your throat started to hurt more, even swallowing your own saliva was enough to make your throat hurt.

"I assure you that there is something more than a mere, tiny pill that can make you choke."

You could only groan in annoyance as you lightly punched Dottore on the shoulder for making a sexual innuendo. Dottore only chuckled in return, he placed the glass of water on the bedside table before grabbing your wrist and pulling you up.

"Come on, now. You don't want Kappa to be more sad now, do you?"

Dottore watched as you lightly glared at him, he knew you would do anything for the youngest version of himself. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when you moved your head away when he tried to push the pill in your mouth.

"If you're going to be so stubborn then you should know that you made a wrong choice in doing so."

Without you looking, Dottore placed the pill inside his mouth before grabbing your chin and pressing his lips against yours. You tried to move away but Dottore held you by your waist, preventing you from running away. You whimpered and parted your lips when you felt him nip your lower lip, his tongue entering and exploring every crevice of your mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise when you felt his tongue push something down your throat before pulling away, a string of saliva hanging from both of your lips. Dottore kept his grip on your chin as he grinned at your flustered expression.

"You better swallow that pill or else I'm giving you another one."

You obediently swallowed said pill before reaching the glass of water on the table and gulping down the contents. You winced when you felt the pill slide down your sore throat.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Dottore let out a chuckle as he kissed your forehead before turning to leave the room, making you confused.

"I need to finish my work for today, the segments will watch over you while I'm gone. But do rest, pet. Doctor's orders."

For the entire day, the segments visited you in your room and taking care of you. Omega, Theta and Iota bringing you a warm meal that could increase your recovery speed, you didn't have to know that they mixed some medicine in your food. But don't worry, they took a spoonful of it and made sure you wouldn't even taste the medicine.

Beta and Gamma switching every thirty minutes or so to change the wet cloth on your forehead. Even placing a bucket beside your bed in case you felt nauseous.

Epsilon coming by every now and then to check on your temperature and report it to Dottore.

Meanwhile Eta and Kappa can be found cuddling your figure as the three of you slept the entire afternoon. Gamma may or may not have splashed some ice cold water on the two segments when he saw them trying to press their cheeks to your lips since you would always give them cheek kisses. Epsilon and Omega had to drag the three of them out before they fight and yell in front of your sleeping figure.

After a whole day's work. Dottore went to check up on you himself, he made sure to lock the door so the others won't bother him. He placed a hand on your forehead and sighed in relief when he felt your temperature coming back to normal. He hummed and went under the blankets before pulling you close to his chest, careful not to wake you up.

"Get well soon, love."

Dottore placed a small kiss on your cheek before cuddling you and joining you in dream land.

[sixosix]

I DON'T WANNA HURT YOU (I JUST WANNA BE) | LYNEY

warnings 3.5k words, vague descriptions of wounds, lyney crushing already, cesar appearance:(

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“This is crazy,” Lyney whispers frantically as they stumble over their steps, eyes wide and darting all over the place. “This is insane.”

“Lyney,” his sister whispers sharply, “she can hear you.”

Lyney swallows and steals a quick glance at The Knave, yet she’s staring ahead. But with Lynette’s words, Lyney notices that she’s gotten a bit closer than before. She was listening. Not that Lyney really cared.

Lyney tightens his grip on Lynette's hand as they advance further inside. He shudders at the scathing feeling of numerous curious eyes on him, uneasy about the idea of those gazes focusing on his sister. Though he can't see her while she's hiding behind him, he senses that she has tucked her ears and tail.

“A bond stronger and thicker than blood.” Lyney blinks and realizes that The Knave has been talking to him this entire time. She doesn’t quite smile, but it’s something close as she lays her hand atop their heads. “You’ll find a family here, Lyney, Lynette. From this day forth, you’re my children, and I, your ‘Father’.” With the claws of her hands in Lyney’s view, he feels as if that’s more threatening than a promise, yet Lyney feels warm all the same.

As ‘Father’ signals for Lynette to step forward and introduce herself, Lyney remains steadfast and refuses to loosen his grip on her wrist. He scans the crowd and feels like he’s looking at mirrors—orphans staring back at him, all of whom have been compelled to build a new and found family. Someone among them waves. Lyney takes a moment to collect his thoughts before reluctantly waving back.

And then he meets your gaze. Your cold and hateful gaze.

Lyney doesn’t know what he did for you to look at him in such a way. His heart skips a beat or two, enchanted. He wants to ask, but as soon as ‘Father’ asks him to tell everyone who he is next, you have turned away and walked off, disappearing into the long hallways. Lyney’s eyes never leave your figure until you’re completely out of sight.

“Lyney,” he says, hopefully loud and confident enough for it to reach your ears. It most likely wouldn’t.

As ‘Father’ dismisses the crowd and declares her leave, Lyney guides his sister over to the other orphans, their hands clasped together. They navigate the unfamiliar surroundings, their gazes and steps wandering.

The warmth envelops him, akin to stepping into a hot shower after being left out freezing in a rainstorm. It’s been too long since he experienced that—his recollections are filled with images of his shivering form, attempting desperately to share heat with his sister, whose lips are blue and trembling. The sensation is a distant memory. It's been too long since he last felt this way.

“Who was that who left just now?” Lyney asks.

The kid is sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the floor, a plate by his feet. He picks at his food. “Hm?”

Lyney points in the direction you’ve stormed off to.

The boy snorts as he follows Lyney’s gaze. “That was Y/N. Everyone knows who she is.”

We literally have just arrived, Lyney wants to snap, but he sees no point in picking fights when ‘Father’ has just promised a bond stronger than blood or whatever. There would be no bond to match what he has with his sister—he’s sure of it.

“And…? Why did she leave?” Lyney questions slowly. He watches the kid slurp the soup until it’s empty and clean and feels his stomach growl quietly in envy.

“No one knows,” he says halfheartedly. “It’s not worth the trouble. Provoking a confrontation with Y/N is signing up for a beating, and you wouldn’t want ‘Father’ to single you out when she’s the standard. Stick with your sister.” The boy sounds terribly bitter, as if having experienced it first-hand.

“Right.” Lyney has no idea what any of that means, but his pulse thrums, excited at the prospect of a mystery.

His sister fidgets beside him. Lynette eyes Lyney warily as if reading his thoughts. Don’t cause trouble, Lyney could hear her telepathically. I wouldn’t dare, Lyney communicates with his smile.

Lyney thinks he can never be as brave as you. He wonders how you manage to stand alongside ‘Father’ so frequently and maintain such composure—looking as if that’s exactly where you belong.

You look more like a soldier than an orphan, Lyney thinks. It’s beautiful in all the wrong ways.

While he diligently enjoys his homemade warm breakfast (it’s already his second plate), Lyney poses some very crucial questions to a new friend.

His name is Freminet. He jumped out of his seat when Lyney tapped him on the shoulder as a greeting, and he said he was expecting Lyney to get annoyed by his reluctance to speak, but all Lyney told him was that he was used to his sister already. Freminet warms up to them after. Well, mostly Lynette, but befriending her means would mean you should expect her brother as well.

Lunch ended, then came a new routine Lyney had to familiarize himself with.

“Where is she going?” Lyney asks in a murmur, eyes chasing your footsteps. The other orphans remain seated while you were the first to scurry off, foregoing the attempt to clean your plate. Were you so important to be able to do that?

“To train,” Freminet says simply, his eyes glued to stacking porcelain plates. He slides the chair back and heads to the kitchen.

Lyney follows after him with glasses in hand. “To train?”

Freminet nods. “We should follow. Is Lynette…?

Lyney glances off to the side, an unbidden smile tugging his lips as he sees Lynette curled up on the couch by the fireplace, eyes shut and body language relaxed. Like a cat hoarding a warm window. “I’ll get her.”

As much as it pains him to interrupt his sister’s sleep, he doesn’t know what ‘Father’ will do were they to miss a routine in the House of the Hearth. He doesn’t want to risk finding out, either.

She grumbles and sends him a biting glare but obliges all the same. They tail after Freminet.

You reemerge back into view, a weapon on your side, your face serious.

The other orphans head to the side and come back with different kinds of weapons. Lyney’s eyes bulged out of their sockets when small Freminet pads over to them with a great sword twice his size. A claymore, Freminet said, unbothered as he practically dragged his weapon around.

“This is crazy,” Lyney whispers to his sister again, who jabs his ribs with her elbow.

Lyney has never touched a weapon in his life. A butter knife here and there to cut bread nice people give him, but that is nothing compared to the long one you’re carrying. Freminet gestures to the corner of the room where it lays a chest cracked open, heaped with rusty weapons.

Unfortunately, Lyney doesn’t see any more of the weapon similar to yours. Lynette eyes the sword with muted interest, so Lyney takes the other weapon available.

He’s familiar with a bow and arrow; he’s seen how people wield them from afar and in plays. That doesn’t make it any easier when he has to hold it in his tiny hands. Lyney feels his muscles strain as he pulls, wincing at the ache that unfurls in his arms. Lynette clumsily swings around with her sword.

He cranes his neck to observe the other kids sparring, stumbling when his gaze wanders, catching you looking at him. There’s a smile on your face, but it’s not a kind one. You chuckle under your breath, then turn away.

Lyney doesn’t know what comes over him. One second, he’s at the corner of the room; the next, he’s forcing himself into your view.

You’re prettier up close. Lyney nearly misses his lines.

“I’m Lyney,” he says, face pinched with a seriousness that hopefully he conveys well to fight the blush threatening to creep up.

“I know,” you say, fixing him with a blank stare. “You saw me when ‘Father’ introduced you.”

“Do you think you can teach me?” Lyney then shows his chosen weapon as if he’s offering it to you.

You appraise him for a silent moment. Lyney shuffles on his feet. “I don’t like bow users.”

The statement hangs in the air awkwardly, with Lyney unsure of what to make of that.

“Lyney,” a soft voice calls after him. He turns and sees Lynette looking at you and her brother. “Hello.” She waves shyly at you.

“Hi.” You don’t quite smile, but Lyney feels it there. He realizes you resemble Father’s attitude quite a bit, just a ghost of it, never visible when genuine. “Lynette, right? How’s the sword?”

Lynette takes a moment to answer as if unsure what to respond to that with. “I like it.” Her gaze flits to Lyney, curious. “What’s wrong?”

Lyney feels caught, for some reason. “I just introduced myself.”

“Should you need it, seek me out if you want me to train you,” you tell Lynette, staring right ahead. Lyney feels as if he’s older than you, yet the way you carry yourself has him feeling young and small, a fawn prancing around a tiger.

You must have seen whatever face Lyney is making. “A bow is further off from a polearm than a sword; it’s nothing personal.” But the sickly sweet smile you flash at him feels very personal. However, instead of feeling miffed by this bold start of war, Lyney feels himself grinning.

“So you’re not good at every weapon?”

You start walking. “Astute observation for someone who isn’t good at any weapon.”

He trails after your steps with ease. “Hey, have we met before?”

“No.”

“You’re not acting like it’s a ‘no’.”

“Will you please let me train in peace?”

“Only if you agree to make me your sparring partner.”

You pause, sizing him up. Lyney attempts to hold a straight posture, but he noticeably deflates when you unleash a mocking laugh. “Surely you’re aware how idiotic of a request that is?”

Lyney then realizes the whole room is pin-drop silent, watching with bated breath for Lyney’s next move. And he is, of course, nothing but a performer.

“The harder the challenge to overcome, the greater the benefits to reap,” Lyney says with full-body confidence. Lynette snorts quietly because he stole it from a children’s book they found in a dump.

“A challenge,” you murmur, head tilted. “Is that why you look at me so strangely? You see me as a challenge?”

Lyney has no idea how he looks at you. “Uhm, yes?”

You seem satisfied with the answer, though. You roll your shoulders back and nod. “Very well.” Jeez, do you always talk like that? “I will be your sparring partner.”

Lyney babbles in confusion when you start walking further away before whipping around and pointing the tip of your polearm in his direction. “Try to land a hit on me. Do your worst.”

Long-distance is a bow user’s advantage. “Are you sure?”

You narrow your eyes fiercely. Lyney blinks and fumbles with the weapon in his hands. It’s begun to feel heavy now that he’s acknowledged its presence. He screws one eye shut and aims right for your head, then watches in awe as your polearm spins in a perfect circle and deflects his arrow.

“Again,” you demand, unbothered.

You are so cool.

Lyney tries again, unsurprised when he fails. But you swipe at your weapon this time, batting off his arrow as if an annoying fly. He tries once more, realizing belatedly that with each flimsy shot, you’ve been moving closer and closer.

His breath catches in his throat when you press the tip of your dull spear inches away from his nose.

“You’ve got guts to face me head-on,” you say, poking his skin, “but you’re new, so I can’t praise you for your naivety.”

He blinks. “I wasn’t—”

“Here, in the House, you prove your worth. Loyalty is your worth. How can you prove your loyalty if you can’t even live up to your words?” He releases a heavy breath when you lower your weapon, standing idle by your side. Goosebumps blossom on his arms. “Overcome me if you see me as a challenge.”

Lyney doesn’t know how to say that he sees you as a person. He’s breathless, in cold sweat—and he might be a little in love.

Lynette has become more adept with her sword under your guidance. Lyney can’t quite get the arrow to where he wants it to go, but his grip has been getting firmer—more sure and confident. He is still too far off from beating you, however.

But that’s not all that they’ve been practicing. Months have passed, and they must master other important skills if they are going to prove their worth.

Whenever they can, he and his sister sneak off to meet up with a talented individual that was kind enough to lend his knowledge to them. He’s caring and doesn’t push when they don’t answer honestly—exactly who they need, considering their identities.

Cesar pats his head, “What’s got you so distracted, bud?”

Lyney blinks up at him, schooling his expression carefully. “I was just thinking about a new trick I want to polish.”

“Hmm.” Cesar studies his face. Lyney feels a little uncomfortable. Can master magicians like him read minds? Will Cesar look into Lyney’s and ask about who it is? “You know, the more you try to cover something, the more it’s likely to show up.”

Lyney flushes down to his neck. “Um.”

“Did you meet someone you like?” Cesar grins, kneeling down to his eye level. “It’s okay. I won’t tell your sister if you want to. Though she probably knows already, that smart lady.”

Lyney shakes his head rapidly, hands waving all over to hide his unguarded expression. “There’s nothing to tell!”

Lyney wasn’t lying: there’s really nothing. He hasn’t made any progress with you. You look at him as if you see a scrap of paper, and Lyney should really back off and move on, but he likes the expressions you give him when he speaks to you either way, scrunching in annoyance or grinning in a way that makes his heart dance with fear and anticipation. It feels more human compared to when you stand across him with the air of a seasoned warrior.

“You’re a good kid,” Cesar says, toppling Lyney’s top hat over when he ruffles his hair. “And you’re going to grow up and become a wonderful magician. You will meet all kinds of people with your talent; don’t be afraid to let them in.”

This is a bit sudden. Nonetheless, Lyney dips his head in a nod.

“Lyney,” Lynette calls out, peering from the dove snug in her palm. “It’s sunset.”

“Right.” ‘Father’ is returning, and Lyney and Lynette are finally privy to a dangerous mission for the first time together. He looks back up at Cesar, who has this distant look in his eye that matches his smile. “Master, thank you for all your guidance. We will never forget all you’ve done for us.”

Lynette rises from where she’s been kneeling, bowing along with her brother. “Thank you.”

Cesar laughs heartily. “Just look for me if you kids ever need anything else apart from magic tricks, alright?”

Lyney and Lynette don’t doubt it, but they don’t need to trouble Cesar with their problems. As Fatui, they must uphold their sworn secrecy, no matter how kind and understanding Cesar would be.

“We should head back,” Lyney says. Her hair has been whipping around her face for far too long, hindering her actions during their missions. Lyney can’t really tuck them behind her…ears, so he reminds himself to buy some hairclips for her. “I don’t want to miss dessert.”

“You should try tying your hair,” Lyney says, sighing when a stray strand flicks her in the eye. “And yes, let’s head back. ‘Father’ will be assigning us to a new mission, right?”

Lynette has a delicate skip in her steps, and Lyney is content with the conclusion of a successful mission. Yet the air feels stifling when they arrive. ‘Father’ is nowhere in sight, and there’s a crowd of orphans huddled by the sofa, a first aid kit littered by the coffee table.

Bewildered, Lyney taps one of their shoulders and asks, “What happened?”

The girl farthest to the scene and closest to the twins sighs. “Y/N snuck out to a mission not meant for her. And, well, you can assume how that went.”

Lyney’s heart sinks to his stomach. “What?”

“See for yourself,” she says, pushing Lyney and Lynette to weave through the cluster of murmuring people.

Then, he notices you—your face contorted in a scowl, your body swathed in bandages. Lyney’s eyes catch it swiftly: the burns of your skin and the wince that flickers in your expression when someone gets a little too close.

“Everyone, please return to the dining hall,” Lyney says before he can even think about it. “Space!”

They don’t move, but they pause to look at Lyney. His jaw ticks. So they can rush to gossip but not direct orders?

“Now!” he barks out, gesturing to the other room. They follow, albeit unsurely, as their stares linger. The whispers subside as they do, birthing an upsetting silence that has Lyney running a hand through his face as you stare at the twins warily.

Lynette nudges Lyney, murmuring, “I’ll look for Freminet. Unless you want me to stay?”

Lyney nods, meeting Lynette’s eye. “Don’t worry.”

Your expression clears when Lynette shuts the door softly behind her. Lyney sits on the armrest and lets his eyes rake over your wounds, studying them. They all look nearly fatal, but they look as if Lyney and Lynette have come too late—no longer fresh, leaving an unpleasant taste on his tongue. What would’ve happened if you were not treated quickly?

You glower at him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Lyney keeps his face carefully blank. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ll still be requesting sparring sessions after you’ve healed.”

Your stare became incredulous, but anything is better than the wounded look on your face when the orphans fret over you. “Fine.”

He isn’t even certain if you want him close. What hangs on his back is a bright Pyro vision, the same element that has seared your skin. If it were him, he’d be wary of himself.

“Why did you do it?” he asks quietly.

Your reply takes a while as if you debated with yourself whether you can trust Lyney or not. Luckily for him, you come to the right conclusion. “I don’t have a Vision. I don’t have the ‘potential’. They all said—Father said I could be the next director, but I don’t feel worthy.” You look back up at him. “I don’t think you would understand—”

“You wanted to prove yourself,” he finishes.

Your forehead creases, face shattering at the reminder of your mistake. Missions as perilous as these are meant for Vision users for good reasons. Regardless of someone’s skill with a weapon, it becomes an uneven playing field when there are circumstances that affect those without Visions, or even when facing enemies as highly trained as you yet have the advantage of using their elements with their surroundings to their advantage. Most of the time, those without Visions who take on missions meant not for them don’t make it out alive.

Had Lyney not received his Vision on the day he needed it, he and Lynette wouldn’t have survived. But you…

“This is all I have, Lyney,” you murmur lowly. Lyney hasn’t heard you say his name before.

“Still, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says lightly, trailing off when you gaze to the distance. “What happened out there?”

“Cecilia was too young, even with a Vision. I thought that if I teamed up with her, I could protect her and prove that I’m as good as you Vision-holders and… Well, something went wrong. It was my interference, most likely.”

Your gaze flicks back to his face, brows knitted. “It was stupid, I know. This was the first time I did something as foolish as this, under no guidance from ‘Father’.”

Lyney has an inkling; it was suspicious you pulled this off a few days after he and Lynette got their own Visions. There were barely any orphans who didn't have theirs, either. Were you feeling…?

“I still think you’re too far ahead of me,” Lyney says, hoping you’d pick up on what he’s putting down. “I don’t know how to beat you just yet.”

And then you laugh. Lyney jumps back in surprise at the full-blown laughter bubbling out of you. He’s never heard you laugh like this, and he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. He can’t let anyone take your joy from you now that he’s seen how bright you are with it.

“You can go, Lyney,” you say. “Don’t worry about me. Whatever punishment ‘Father’ decides to give is mine alone. I can see it in your eyes—you were planning something.”

Lyney sags, pouting. “I wasn’t really—”

“We’ll spar in two days.” You smile, and Lyney’s protests die on his tongue. “Once you prove that you can defeat me, I’ll let you help me.”

y/n: i don’t like bow users me, leveling lyney to 90: haha yeah i know right

TAGLIST @thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101

side note i am SO in love with this song so this chapter is very special to me. also hope u liked it... this was longer than last chapter!! tell me what u think if ure still reading all the way here

[unreliablesnake]

Territorial (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You meet your old high school crush and can't help but tell Vincent about it. But he's certainly not happy to hear this story.

Note: Takes place after my other Vincent fics, but you don't need to read them. / I wrote it in like an hour with breaks and it shows. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: smut (fingering) so MINORS DNI!!!

“Imagine my surprise when I found out it was him! He changed so much throughout the years. He was never the type to wear suits.”

You were laughing, excited that someone from your years in high school showed up in your life again. It was a nice surprise; you used to be on good terms with him, maybe even had a crush that stayed with you in the back of your mind. And now you were working in the same office building, so the two of you were already making plans to have lunch together in the following days.

“He’s been working there for almost as long as I do. How is it that we haven’t met yet? What are the chances?” you asked your boyfriend before taking another bite of your dinner.

But Vincent remained silent, his jaw tightening as you kept talking about your old friend. It took you some minutes to finally realize he didn’t want to hear about any of this. You shut your mouth the moment it dawned on you, and bit on your lower lip as you looked down at your plate guiltily, as if you had done something wrong.

“Are you done?” he asked with a frown, and after a few moments of thinking, you nodded. “I haven’t seen you this excited about a friend before, love. Or was he more than just a friend? Do I have a reason to worry?”

You gulped loudly upon hearing his question. He could see right through you as always, he knew about your crush without you saying anything about it. Too bad that to him it didn’t matter if you still had any feelings for that guy or not. You once had and that was enough for him to get mad at you.

Because he was mad, you knew that. It wasn’t jealousy, it was pure anger that he felt times like this. Every time a guy looked at you the wrong way, every time you dared to be nice to another man, Vincent got angry and took it out on you.

Of course, he would never hit you. Sure, he would spank you, maybe even choke you a little, but all of this would happen in the safety of your bedroom. He would never seriously think about hurting you, he loved you too much for that.

Or so you thought.

Now there was a glint in his green eyes, something you had never seen before. It was pure rage, fueled by your story about this old flame. “He’s just a friend, I promise,” you tried weakly, but despite being sure you loved only him, your thin voice made even you question if it was true.

He suddenly put down his fork and knife, took a sip of his wine–his eyes never leaving yours–then stood up and extended his hand to help you up. With your legs already shaking, you took his hand and stood up as well. For the first time in a while, you had absolutely no idea what he was about to do. Was it really that bad that you were so excited about meeting an old friend?

His fingers wrapped around yours tightly enough to make you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out loud. You followed him across the rooms obediently, not asking him what he was planning to do now.

Once you stepped inside the bedroom, he slammed in the door and pulled you into a hungry, demanding kiss. You tried to push him away a little to breathe, but he only put his hand on the base of your skull and pulled you even closer. This was a first; he had never been this aggressive before, but now he seemed desperate to show you who you belonged to.

His hands were quick to remove your clothes when he finally let you breathe, fingers exploring every single curve of your body as if he had never seen you naked before. Then they moved between your legs, expert fingers slipping between your folds which drew a pathetic moan out of you, making you weak in the knees.

“Who do you belong to, hm?” he asked you before kissing you again. “Tell me, love, do you remember where you belong?”

“I belong to you,” you replied weakly as you put your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot, and it was hard to keep yourself together by now. “I’m so sorry,” you added.

While his fingers were pumping at a steady pace, chasing you towards your first high, Vincent looked you in the eye and tilted his head to the side a little. “Good girl. Never forget this,” he warned you darkly.

Your first orgasm made you collapse into his arms, but he didn't seem to mind, it only made him more determined to overstimulate you. By now you knew what this was all about. He wanted to mark his territory, showing you how good he was for you, how perfectly you fit together.

Jealous Vincent wasn't new. He was rough and focused on his own needs, using you as a simple fleshlight. But territorial Vincent was someone you hadn't met before. He wasn't controlled by his anger; he was driven by something else, as if he was desperately trying to prove to you that he was the only one who had a place in your heart.

It wasn't unusual for him to focus on your needs, but this was different. You couldn't quite put a finger on what the difference was, but you could feel it in your bones that something wasn't the same.

He kept calling you a good girl, telling you how badly he needed you, how you belonged to him, and how the two of you were brought together by fate. He was almost too sentimental, something he barely was with you. If you didn't know any better, you would have assumed he was worried about losing you.

“What's wrong?” you asked when you were lying in bed with you resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him.

But he remained silent, the only reaction was the way his grip on your hip tightened. Just when you were about to give up, he suddenly spoke up. “I want you to keep your distance with him. Lunches on weekdays are okay, but I don't want you to meet outside of that building. Can you promise me that?”

You thought about it, but it was a fair request. So you nodded, agreeing while also hoping for a change of his heart in the future. If that was enough to make him feel better, you were willing to do it for now. After all, you didn't want to ruin your engagement so soon.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @qwertynerd97 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

Maybe Billy should just say something first, but he doesn't want to talk over Lynn, so . . . 

“It looks different from the box ones,” Lynn says after a moment, frowning a little. 

“Oh, yeah,” Billy says, glancing down at the cake too. “This is more, like, traditional strawberry shortcake? The snack cakes are kinda copies of it.” 

“. . . ‘copies’,” Lynn repeats. 

“Yeah,” Billy says. “Just, you know, a different version?” 

“. . . which ones are better?” Lynn asks slowly. 

. . . yeah, that seems like a loaded question, Billy thinks. 

“Neither, really,” he says with a shrug. “I mean, you can't pack the traditional stuff in a lunchbox or keep it around all the time, it'd get all stale and gross. But the snack cakes aren't as good for parties and things like that. So I dunno, it just depends on what you want ‘em for.” 

Lynn doesn't say anything. He just stares at the cake. 

Billy really hopes he's doing this right. 

“If you don't like it, we'll just get you more snack cakes instead,” he says, resisting the urge to fidget. It feels like a stupid thing to feel anxious about, but Lynn's been alive for so little time, and it makes him feel like every single thing that could go wrong would be the worst thing that's ever happened to him. 

Well, it would be, right? 

Admittedly giving him the wrong cake is probably not gonna be on par with Cadmus mind-controlling him, but Billy's seen people get hurt or break down over stuff that looks really minor from the outside a lot of times, and . . . 

After his parents died and Uncle Eben stole everything they left him and threw him out on the street like he was nothing, the worst things always seemed so small. Things like how he lost his home and everything he’d ever owned, how he doesn't have any photos of his mom and dad or even anything that belonged to them at all . . . those things are just too big to really feel, sometimes. Too big to really process. 

But things like how it always rains at the worst possible time and the time he ripped his warmest hoodie too bad to fix and the year his backpack got stolen right before winter set in . . . 

Things like those, Billy’s sobbed himself sick over. 

He doesn't want to ever make Lynn feel anything like that. 

He doesn't want anything to ever make Lynn feel like that. 

He knows things . . . will, probably. Someday, at least. But he wants to be someone who Lynn can feel safe coming to when it happens, not the person causing it. Especially not over a stupid mistake or something thoughtless. Lynn doesn't deserve that. 

Billy wants to be a good dad more than he's ever wanted maybe anything in his life, it feels like, and it's sort of . . . weird, actually, and a little scary. What if he messes it up? What if he's just not good enough? What if . . .

Lynn sticks one of the plastic forks in the closest piece of strawberry shortcake. Takes a bite. 

Frowns. 

“. . . it is different,” he says, not looking at him. Billy, again, barely holds back from fidgeting. 

“Um, yeah,” he says. “So! They're both good, I think. Just not good the same way or for the same stuff.” 

Lynn keeps frowning down at the cake. Billy worries that he maybe sounds stupid or patronizing or something, or that Lynn just thinks he's full of shit, or . . . or whatever, he guesses. 

Worries that he's doing this wrong, more than anything else. 

He really doesn't want to do this wrong. 

“. . . fine,” Lynn mutters, and then takes a bite of the chocolate cake instead. Billy isn't sure if that's a good sign, but relaxes a little anyway. It might be one? Maybe? 

Lynn seems to like the cake okay, at least. 

They eat all three slices of it between them–Billy tries to leave bigger shares for Lynn and Tawky, but he's not sure he manages to; it's just really good. He hasn't actually had cake in a while, come to think of it. Not, like, the kind that didn't come from a snack cake. Somebody got a cheap grocery store sheet cake for a “no one died this time!” party at the Watchtower a few months ago, but . . . 

Well, it didn't taste like this, even though that was arguably a special occasion too. 

Though this time he's not gonna be all alone as soon as the party's over and everyone goes home, so . . . maybe that's why, he guesses. Lynn is gonna be living with him at least until he can pass for eighteen, though Billy's hoping for a little longer. Two years is a long time, but not very long compared to an actual eighteen. And it's just gonna be nice to have–well, to live with somebody again. 

Especially to live with family again. 

Better family than Uncle Eben, he means. 

Billy feels . . . weird, a little. Just–thinking about that feels weird. 

He hopes Lynn is gonna stay longer than just two years. He'll still do this even if he doesn't wanna, obviously, but . . . 

He doesn't know. He just wants to be a good dad. Just wants to do right by Lynn, whatever “right” turns out to be. 

But he still wishes, well . . . 

He's not sure what he's wishing, exactly, but he wants Lynn to stay. 

“I kinda had a question,” he says while Lynn and Tawky are finishing the last of the strawberry shortcake. “Do you always mean it when you say ‘no’? Or, um–‘yes’, either.” 

Lynn–pauses. Lowers his fork. 

“. . . why,” he asks very, very slowly, though he doesn't really pitch it like a question.

“Um,” Billy says. “Because if you don't, I don't really know what to do when you do? I don't wanna just assume things, you know? I don't know you well enough to make guesses on that kind of thing, and I mean . . .” 

That'd feel so unsafe, is all he can think. Lynn would just have to hope he guessed right all the time, and hope he wasn't gonna be the kind of asshole who “guessed” wrong on purpose and then said he'd said it was okay, so he hadn't done anything wrong, it was Lynn's own fault, so–

Billy knows more about the world than Lynn, obviously, but he isn't infallible even with the wisdom of Solomon, and he’d never want to make Lynn feel like some people have made him feel. Like trusting someone is stupid, when he knows that’s not true. He’s not the one who messed up, if he trusts someone who treats him badly for it. He’d be the one in the wrong if he ignored the “no” problem and made it Lynn’s problem. 

But he still wants to make sure Lynn doesn’t ever feel bad about himself for anything like this.

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 4)

Summary: As you begin an uncertain period of recovery, Tommy is left to decide what's best for you.

Author's Note: This is an accidental series 🙈! For some reason I can't stop thinking about this couple. Ty to all my lovely readers who have kept me inspired by leaving such wonderful comments!

Warnings: child loss, manipulative behavior

Part 3

“Who am I?” Tommy repeated your question back to you in a hoarse whisper, his throat going dry as he realized you didn't recognize him. "I'm your husband, Thomas Shelby," he issued forth with authority, feeling a chasm open within his chest at the thought of you belonging to anyone but him. His hurt manifested in a sudden flicker of rage behind his eyes, causing you to jerk your hand away. The speed of your reaction surprised you, but not so much as the instinctual sense of fear coursing through you.

Pulling the blankets up to your chin protectively you muttered, "I'm sorry, I-I'm trying, but I can't seem to recall."

You sounded so weak and helpless before him, Tommy softened instantly at your apologetic tone. All the tension he held in his shoulders fell away as he offered a word of encouragement. "That's alright," he said gently. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you sniffed appreciatively, feeling the throbbing ache return to your temples. No matter how you tried, you couldn't place him. While he had a handsome face, you knew you'd never seen him before in your life and that shook you to your core. The deep emotion behind his words made the situation worse, knowing he expected you to speak with equal passion. The whole ordeal was rather taxing in its complexity and you felt yourself becoming tired yet again.

"I think I need to rest," you informed him as you felt your eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

"Of course," Tommy replied. "If you need me, I'll be right outside."

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

"What are sayin'? She don't remember nothin'?" Arthur asked, leaning in to study Tommy's perplexed expression.

"No," Tommy said simply as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe it's for the best," Arthur offered quietly.

Tommy snapped his head sharply as he demanded, "What the fuck did you say?"

Arthur ducked his head submissively as he mumbled, "Sorry, Tom, I meant the accident. She shouldn't have to think about it."

"No," Tommy murmured as he stood deep in thought. Then his face slowly began to lift as he considered his brother's words. "You're right. Perhaps it is better this way."

"How do you mean?" Arthur prodded, suspicious of Tommy's sudden change in demeanor.

With a glimmer in his eye, Tommy proclaimed, "I couldn't make her understand before, but now I have another chance. It's a whole new beginning."

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

You opened your eyes with a start as the gravel crunched beneath the tires, signaling your arrival at Arrow House. "We're here, darling," Tommy announced triumphantly. Hastening to open your door, he helped you to stand with the utmost care.

Despite the dreary weather, you squinted against the daylight, unaccustomed to being outside for any length of time. Leaning into Tommy's strong arms, you whimpered at the pain at the base of your badly bruised spine.

"I'll have Frances bring the morphine as soon as you're in bed," Tommy promised in a soothing voice. You smiled up at him, wondering how someone could love you so completely. Though you still couldn't recall a single memory of your life together, you'd come to trust his recollections as replacement. He'd dedicated the better part of a month sharing photographs and stories at your bedside to ensure you knew every detail of your charmed life.

In that time, you also spoke of your future, with Tommy frequently expressing his desire for a son. The tenderness in his voice convinced you to lean into the first kiss you'd shared since your accident, a languid embrace which set you ablaze with need.

However, renewed anxiety and emotion swirled in your gut as he informed you of news from the doctor. Nuzzling his nose against yours Tommy promised, "We can try again soon. With any luck, you'll be pregnant again before Christmas." He lovingly rubbed a thumb along the base of your neck and you only hoped he couldn't feel the way your pulse thumped in terrified response.

"It's going to be everything we ever dreamed of," Tommy mused, oblivious to your panic.

Part 5

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

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[xxchumanixx]

Matchmaker

The Mandalorian x reader

Summary: Greef Karga takes it upon himself to help two fools find their way together.

Warnings/Tags: hurt, fluff, comfort, mentions of character death, a little angst (but only if you squint), spoilers for season 3

Word count: 2.652

Authors note: Hello my loves! Just finished season three of The Mandalorian, and I can't help but write something for my beloved Din! Seriously, I love him so much.

Also, I somehow wrote this not in past tense, but present tense. Don't know how that happened, but I'm okay with it.

Enjoy!

"What's up with you?" Greef Karga speaks up, head tilted as he tries to analyze your face. Spurred by his words you sit straighter in the chair opposite his, hoping to mask what's on your mind from the clever man.

But he knows you, he knows the tell tale signs when somethings up with you, when somethings bothering you.

His eyebrows rise, and you sigh in defeat.

Of course you can't hide your feelings from him. Over the time you've known him now, he somehow became a father figure for you.

"Do you think he'll settle down, now that he has a home here on Nevarro?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. The likelihood of him settling down, is even smaller than him returning your feelings for him.

You love him, even if you've never seen his face before.

Greef snorts in amusement, sending you a smirk that says the same thing. Never would Din Djarin settle down - at least not in the near future.

"Why are you asking?" Greef questions, brows furrowed. "Are you hoping he'll stay with you?"

Eyes widening, you stare at the magistrate, who dares to chuckle at your reaction. "What?" he quips, smirking. "Do you think I haven't noticed the way you're looking at him?"

You're mouth opens to protest, but you can't manage to utter a single word. He's right, and he knows it too.

"Do you love him?" he wants to know more serious, leaning forward on the table between you. You choke on your breath, chuckling to cover up the uneasy feeling that's suddenly cursing through you.

You still though, sighing, before your head falls into your hands, elbows propped on the table. Wiping over your face you look at Greef, who patiently waits for your answer.

"I do." you reply, feeling the goosebumps creep up your bare arms. He nods, suspicions confirmed. "You haven't seen his face, yet." he points out, cocking a brow.

"Don't need to." you respond, shaking your head. "He could be a Gungan for all you know." he remarks, though grinning as you send him a pointed look.

"He once told me about the mandalorian marriage, how he would be able to remove his helmet in front of his wife." you explain, looking down on the table as your cheeks flush.

"Hit you pretty hard, huh?" he asks with a smile, but before you can answer someone speaks up from behind you, causing you to flinch in your seat.

"What hit whom?" Din wants to know, and you refuse to turn around, stiffening, as your cheeks go even more red.

Greef clears his throat, chuckling. "Oh, nothing, mando." he replies. "Just talkin' 'bout old times."

You are thankful for the older man's explanation, sending him a grateful look. He nods almost unnoticeable, before you stand up.

"I'm gonna go look for something to do." you tell them, briefly looking at Din, before your gaze averts again. Grogu stands behind him, cooing up at you.

"Oh, could you take him with you?" Greef asks, pointing at Grogu. "I want to discuss something with Din, that's not for the child's ears."

Din nods in approval, as you look at him questioningly.

Smiling down at the child you scoop him into your arms, before you leave the room.

Din looks after you and the child, even after the door has already closed behind you again. Greef clears his throat, averting his attention back to him.

"You want to discuss something with me?" Din wants to know, taking a seat where you had been sitting only moments ago.

He'd be lying if he said he wants a job - it had only been a few days since you landed on Nevarro again and settled into the cabin Greef had prepared for you three.

After the fight on Mandalore he is glad to have a break from the constant fighting and traveling.

He could tell you are too, finally being able to catch more than just an hour or two of sleep. The child is happier as well, being able to play with the local kids.

Greef folds his hands on the table, looking at Din with a sigh. Unbeknownst to the magistrate, he rises a brow under his helmet, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you plan on staying?" Greef asks, looking straight at where he believes Din's eyes must be. Din tilts his head, not sure what his friend is getting at.

"Maybe, why?" he gives back warily, brows furrowing. Greef only nods, leaning back in his chair. "And what about her?" he questions further, eyes still fixed on the warrior in front of him. Din licks his lip, feeling his heart rate pick up at the mention of you.

He'd love for you to stay with him, but he'd never make a move on it. You were too precious to him, for him ruining you.

"What do you mean?" he wants to know, leather creaking quietly, as his hands flex in a nervous manner. Greef huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know exactly what I mean, Din."

Din sighs, looking away. He in fact knows what the older man is hinting at, yet he tries to play dumb.

"I don't know what you mean."

Greef rolls his eyes, frustration seeping through, as he silently curses at the mandalorian. "Do you love her?" he asks him the same question he had asked you earlier.

Din's eyes widen under his helmet, as he believes he must have misheard him. "I have to go." he mutters, pushing himself out of the chair. "Do you love her?" Greef repeats louder, and Din stiffens, back turned towards him.

"'Cause if you do, you should tell her."

Din can't help but huff at his words, turning back around to him. "And why should I do that?" he demands to know, taking a step closer. "So she takes the first ship to another planet?"

"Because she loves you!" Greef responds angrily, standing from his chair. "Because she loves you and she asked me the same question earlier - Asked if you would stay, or if you'd leave her behind."

Din is taken aback by his words, body freezing.

His heart goes rigid in his chest, hands sweating, but he stays still. "She doesn't know me." he mutters, shaking his head. "She doesn't know your face." Greef responds. "There's a difference."

Din swallows, wiping his hands on his thighs, even though he wears gloves.

"She told me about the mandalorian marriage." Greef explains, licking his lip. "Said that you'd be able to take the helmet off in front of your wife."

Din winces, shaking his head again.

"She wouldn't want me." he insists, looking down. "Are you sure about that?" Greef responds, causing Din's heart to jump dangerously at the prospect. "She said she doesn't need to see your face to love you."

Din breathes in shakily, biting his lip, before his gaze meets his friends. Greef nods encouragingly, silently telling him to finally make a move on his feelings.

You are important to him, and he can tell that you are struggling with your feelings for Din. Pushing you two in the right direction is the least he could do for you.

Meanwhile, you are sitting with the child in between a group of kids. They had spotted you, asking if Grogu could play with them, and invited you to sit with them.

Din neares the group, already having spotted you due to the height difference - not because you seem to radiate under the sun, glowing like a goddess to him.

Of course not.

He stops behind you, taking a moment to watch the child jump on the numbers the kids had scribbled on the ground with chalk.

It looks like something out of a book, he notices. The peaceful and calm atmosphere seems strange to him.

Clearing his throat, he gets your attention, motioning for you to follow him with a tilt of his helmet. Asking the kids to look after Grogu, you stand up, following him.

He walks a few feet away, only stopping when no one's in earshot anymore.

"I'm thinking about staying." he begins, after a short silence. You nod, brows furrowing slightly. "How come?" you ask. He takes a moment longer to answer, gaze wandering behind you to the kids still playing with Grogu, before he looks back at you.

"Mandalore is still in reconstruction, and we will have to stay somewhere in the meantime." he explains, your heart picking up its pace at his choice of words. "We?" you ask, hope flaming up in your chest.

Would he stay with you, or let you stay with him, now that Mandalore is going to be rebuilt?

You had been spending time with the mandalorian for almost the whole while he was traveling with Grogu now, but never really had a place to stay at.

Except for Nevarro now.

"Grogu and I." he responds, and your heart cracks as he extinguishes the flame, before it had really become one.

Your face falls and you do your best not to let him notice, as you force yourself to smile, nodding with tears pricking in your eyes.

"Sure." you mumble, biting your lip, as you look down.

"And you if you want to."

You're heart stops at his words, gaze snapping back to his.

He swallows, heart racing in his chest. He's nervous, hands sweating in his gloves, as he tries to study your reaction.

"Really?" you want to know, fearing he'd take it back. But he nods, taking a step closer. "I talked to Greef." he admits, tilting his head.

You huff, now knowing why he came up with the topic in the first place.

"Of course, you have." you mumble, looking away from him. How much did Greef tell him? You should have known something was up, when he asked you to take the child with you.

He makes a sound like he wants to say something, but it gets stuck in his throat. "I like you." he then presses out, fists clenching at his sides.

He hates to talk about his feelings, never really having been good at it.

Your heart jumps, breath hitching in your throat as you look back at him. "I like you and I want you to stay with us." he adds, voice shaky even through the modulator.

You're not sure what exactly he means, goosebumps covering your arms at the prospect. "What do you mean you like me?" you ask, swallowing at the nerves bubbling up.

He sighs, helmet tilting downwards. "I mean that-" he sighs again in frustration, arms moving at his sides, as he seems to fight with himself, before he looks back up at you. "I mean that I have feelings for you, Y/N."

Your heart stutters in your chest, before it doubles its speed. Blinking rapidly, you try to process his words.

"I-I have feelings for you, too." you stutter, taking a step towards him. He inhales shakily, relief flooding him.

No matter what Greef had told him about your feelings for him, he still could have been wrong.

The relief momentarily blocks out the fear he's feeling, but it returns just as fast as it was gone.

"But I'm scared, cyar'ika." he voices, not giving you a chance to respond further, heart fluttering at the endearment. You had only heard it once before, and you were sure it meant something special.

"I don't want to bring you in harms way even further, because you'd be my weak spot."

You blush, still shocked at his confession.

"But the child is a weak spot, too." you remind him quietly, tilting your head as your brows furrow slightly.

"I don't want to end up like Paz." he whispers, voice cracking. "And another weak spot would only add to that possibility. When something happens to me you'd be left on your own. When something happens to you or the child-" he shakes his head, swallowing.

"I wouldn't know what to do."

You take another step closer, hand finding its way onto his arm, trying to comfort him. "Din, that won't happen." you assure him, trying to catch his gaze through the helmet.

"Paz had a son." he arguments, shaking his head at you. "His son lost his father." "He was a foundling." you retort, still feeling bad for the boy. "He'll learn to live without him, he still has a family: the other mandalorians."

Paz was a good man, he had sacrificed himself for his people, leaving behind his son.

"And what's with my wife, Grogu, kids of my own?" he questions. He's agitated, body trembling at the thought of disappointing you.

Your eyes widen at his words.

His wife, kids of his own.

He seems to notice what he said, a gasp leaving his lips, as his eyes widen as well. "I-I mean-" he stutters, panic creeping into his voice, but you smile at him.

"Din, you don't have to keep doing the dirty work for the rest of your life." you give back softly, silently hating that you can't see his eyes.

He snorts, taking a step back, so your hand falls from his arm. "And credits come flowing, sure."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "We will find something that's less dangerous. Aside from that I'm sure Mandalore will have a place for us, a job. We'd manage."

"You're saying that like it would all be so easy for us." he gives back, shaking his head as well. You nod, licking your lip. "I know it's not always going to be easy, but I'm sure we'll manage." you repeat, closing the distance again.

He falls silent at that, only staring at you.

He can't seem to grasp why you are willing to spend your life with him - a mandalorian, someone who's made more enemies than he can possibly count.

"And now let's get back to the point where you told me you have feelings for me." you rasp out, taking his hand in yours.

His hand tightens around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he exhales shakily.

"Do you know how long I hoped for you to say those words?" you chuckle, smiling up at him. He huffs, shaking his head with a chuckle of his own.

"I was sure you wouldn't want me." he breathes out, licking his lip. You huff, smile widening. "You have no clue, Din." you tell him. "And even if I don't know what you look like yet, I'm sure I will love it as well. It's not only your face, Din. It's you - everything about you, the way you care for the ones you love and how you do everything to protect them. It's you I love, not only the face I have yet to see. And if I have to marry you to see your face, I can't wait."

He's stunned at your words, mouth agape even though you can't see it.

He's never heard such beautiful words directed at him before. Hearing them come out of your mouth, only makes them more beautiful.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum." he mutters, his voice soft. You tilt your head at him, not sure what he said. "It's mando'a." he says, and you swear you hear him smile under his helmet. "It means I love you."

You inhale sharply, eyes widening, and he wonders if he took it too far. "It sounds so beautiful." you reply, smiling broadly at him. He sighs in relief, smile returning.

"Ni kartayl gar darasum." you try to repeat it and he laughs, lightly shoving you at the way you mispronounce the words.

"We'll practice that." he assures you chuckling, wrapping his arm around you, to lead you back to the kids.

"For now let's focus on marrying so you can finally see my face."

cyar'ika: sweetheart