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papiliotao · 9 months

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꒰ 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 !! ✩࿐

pairings: albedo, alhaitham, childe, cyno, heizou, kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, very light angst in xiao’s and childe’s (they still ends with fluff though), kissing, established relationship

summary: in which your boyfriend tells you that he loves you, but instead of returning his sentiments, you decide to mess with him by not saying it back.

a/n: i said that i’d post soon like two weeks ago... oops. nonetheless, i hope you have fun reading this!

₊˚ପ ALBEDO

“What’s the matter?” Albedo asks, tilting his head slightly as the words fall from the tip of his tongue. Vivid teal eyes fill with hints of concern that dance through his irises loftily in a flurry of iridescent petals.

Albedo is worried, but he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. For now, he’ll test the waters of an unexplored ocean and scope out the situation, hoping that he’s just reading too much into things.

“Nothing,” you answer, tilting your head innocently as if you don’t have a clue what Albedo’s talking about.

Your boyfriend is perplexed, but he’s not an idiot. He’s often been regarded as a genius, and he’s spent almost as much time reading the sentimental words engraved into your heart as he has conducting his experiments. Albedo is absolutely captivated by you because you never fail to leave him fascinated and awe-struck. So naturally, he’s managed to pick up on all your subtle habits and all your strange quirks.

And right now, the expression on your face tells him that something is off. A missing brushstroke on a panoramic painting. A sour note in an otherwise enchanting composition. A sparkling daydream where you feel just a little too lucid.

You know exactly what he’s talking about. You’re just feigning ignorance.

Now all Albedo has to do is figure out why.

“I see,” he whispers under his breath in a tone so soft that even a light breeze would whisk his words off to neverland.

Albedo’s gaze remains fixated on you, his eyebrows scrunched and eyes narrowed.

Then a barely-audible chuckle leaves your lips. You stifle it in an instant, but Albedo has committed the melodic sound of your laugh to memory.

And suddenly everything makes sense.

You’re trying to get a reaction out of him, but sadly for you, you seem to have forgotten one key detail. Albedo is used to solving issues in a calm manner, his temperament akin to aquatic drafts that gently caress the surface of a crystal ocean. Cool and controlled.

“Ah, I understand now,” he says, and your eyes widen. The expression on your face rivals the beauty of a night sky dotted with various asterisms. You’re utterly ethereal. The corners of Albedo’s lips turn up, graced with a smile that shines with the light of a million stars. “You thought you could fool me, but unfortunately, you just gave yourself away.”

A pause. The tension within the air thaws, and the atmosphere becomes light-hearted once more.

“I’m not mad,” he clarifies, staring you dead in the eye, “but I would, however, appreciate it if you could make it up to me.”

₊˚ପ ALHAITHAM

Alhaitham is unfazed.

He sees right through you. You didn’t seriously think this was going to work on him, right? It didn’t take him long to get used to your antics when you first got together, and although you haven’t tried to play as many pranks on him as of late, it’s difficult to erase the devious grin you don whenever you’re up to something from his mind. Nor has the sly look in your eyes slipped from his memory.

Your boyfriend’s ability to read you is almost prophetic — a prediction of the future, yet no stars are read and no omens are required. He makes his predictions based on logic and logic alone.

And unfortunately for you, you don’t possess the same capabilities.

When you ignore Alhaitham’s honeyed words, turning your back to walk away with a coldness reminiscent of the farthest outreaches of the galaxy, he simply shrugs it off and heads to your living room to read a book. He sinks comfortably into a plush armchair, knowing full well that you’ll be back in no time.

Just four pages in, and Alhaitham hears the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallways, filling your shared home with a familiar sort of music. It’s only a few more seconds before he feels a tap on his shoulder — a touch that brings him back to reality entirely, away from the realm of scholarly pursuits.

“Is there anything you need?” Alhaitham asks, meeting your gaze with eyes tinted a turquoise found only in the most pristine of diamond waters. He remains as stoic as ever, not allowing so much as a single hint of emotion to show through his front.

You stare at him, dumbfound, for a few moments. Alhaitham knows what you’re thinking. He’s normally so observant — nothing ever slips past him, and yet this time, he failed to acknowledge the fact that you didn’t respond to his ‘I love you’. Besides that, it’s rather rare for Alhaitham to allow those words to leave his lips in the first place. He prefers to reserve them for tender moments, times where it feels like the only beings present in the vast universe are the two of you. You expected him to be more alert, and yet, Alhaitham has subverted all your expectations.

And it’s all part of his plan.

But then your eyes widen, filling with a light signaling that you’ve just experienced an epiphany. Alhaitham can tell that you’ve realized what he’s up to, and that your little scheme has backfired entirely.

“About earlier,” you start, assuming that Alhaitham already knows what you’re referring to.

Alhaitham smiles.

“What about it?” he questions you, acting oblivious even though both of you know Alhaitham would never be that clueless.

“You acted like you didn’t notice on purpose, didn’t you?” You’re pouting, but your irritation is clearly feigned. Alhaitham knows you like the back of his hand, and although messing with you produces some entertaining results, he would never go so far as to hurt you.

A rare smile graces Alhaitham’s face, as stunning as vivid ribbons of celestial light that compose an illustrious aurora. He’s not typically one to express emotion, but he can’t help himself. You’re just far too irresistible, and if there’s one thing he has a soft spot for, it’s you.

“My apologies,” he speaks in his usual calm tone. “I just couldn’t help myself — not when I knew I’d be able to bear witness to such an adorable display of anger.”

₊˚ପ CHILDE

The silence that hangs in the air is tangible — a thick veil of unspoken words, all consolidated into glacial fractals that cause the atmosphere to glaze over. An icy sort of tension permeates the moment, crystallizing the ambience and morphing it into something fragile.

And everything shatters when your boyfriend speaks.

“[Name],” he frowns, gazing at you with periwinkle hues devoid of illumination. He sighs, swallowing his pride. “Say it back. Please.”

A blank look fills your eyes, morphing once-lively galaxies into monochromatic jumbles of nonsense. For once, Childe can’t tell what you’re thinking, and that scares him. Either you’re messing with him, and you’re an exceptionally good actor, or you’re being serious.

“Say what back?” you say, cluelessness filling your tone filling your tone.

Childe is dumbfounded. It’s true that he tells you he loves you quite often, but he didn’t think that you’d become so accustomed to it that his words would no longer hold any weight. Although he finds it slightly odd, he supposes that even the most precious of glittering gemstones becomes mundane when fortune is the norm. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less disappointed.

“You really can’t tell?” he sighs yet again. He averts his gaze, looking anywhere but at you.

You shake your heart, and yet as you do, he catches a subtle flash of gilded lightning flash through your irises, setting your expression ablaze with hints of mischief. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared, but Childe knows what he saw. The initial melancholy that gripped his heart with cold fingers borne of frost dissipates, and in its place, amusement arises.

Silence. Shock. Disbelief.

And then he bursts out in a fit of sonorous laughter, the sheer volume of each chuckle rivalling that of an intense tempest.

Your eyes widen. It seems that you didn’t expect to be found out, but Childe has known you for long enough to be able to read your emotions. He’s spent an eternity exploring every nuance of your personality — every subtlety and every quirk, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And he loves every part of you.

That’s why he never fails to express his adoration whenever the opportunity is presented in evanescent moments like these. Although times like these sound like they’d be rare, they’re not when he’s by your side. Every second is filled with bliss, and despite the instances where azure skies are painted a dull grey and sapphire oceans turn tumultuous, he always knows that everything will be alright.

“I should have known,” he says. “You were just teasing me.”

Busted.

In less than a minute, your boyfriend has exposed all your plans, and you have no choice but to admit defeat.

“I was,” you admit, hanging your head.

Childe laughs, but once he settles down, he cups your chin in one hand and lifts your head to meet his gaze. With a surprising amount of tenderness, he closes the distance between your lips. Inch by inch.

You lean in as well. Time slows, and he forgets how to breathe. Even though he was the one who initiated the kiss, he finds you utterly enchanting. The beating of his heart speeds up, becoming erratic, desperate for the sensation of your soft lips pressed against his.

And then it happens. Although Childe had been looking for a verbal affirmation of love, this is even better. Fireworks seem to burst in the edges of his vision, painting the world in vivid shades of phosphorescent crimson and rose.

₊˚ପ CYNO

“Say it back. There’s no need to continue on with this prank of yours because cy-no you’re only joking,” he says. His voice is as monotone as ever, as tranquil as cerulean seas beneath a sky dotted with snowy white clouds.

His words provoke no response from you. You simply stare at him, too shocked to speak.

“Do you get it? Because Cyno is my name, and ‘cy’ sounds a little bit like ‘I’ while ‘no’ sounds like ‘know’.”

Cyno watches as your features scrunch in a twist of disbelief, embarrassment, and fear. He internally chuckles, secretly delighting in the adorable expression adorning your face.

Your reactions are always priceless, worth more than the most precious of gold and the most luxurious of diamonds. Because basking in the splendor of your smile is true opulence.

“Okay, okay,” you giggle, the embers of mischief within your eyes flickering, “you win. Please stop with the puns. I can’t take it anymore.” Your tone is playful, light.

The corners of Cyno’s lips turn up slightly as a smile graces his features. He’s well aware that your exasperation is feigned — nothing more than an exaggeration fabricated in order to tease him a little. Besides, if you didn’t like his sense of humour, you wouldn’t even be dating him right now.

“Victory is mine,” Cyno speaks triumphantly in a tone full of a hyperbolic sort of grandeur.

He feels light-hearted for the first time in a while, and it’s in that moment, that fraction of a second, that Cyno realizes something.

Your presence is liberating.

When he’s with you, he’s free from the troubles of daily life. With you, the responsibilities that go hand-in-hand with his status are put on hold, allowing him some time to truly experience what it’s like to be unburdened. With you, he’s not the General Mahamatra, one of the most renowned figures within Sumeru.

He’s just Cyno.

He feels his grin widen as he opens his mouth to speak once more.

“I love you,” he repeats his words from earlier, his tone one of pure adoration and bliss. The beating of his heart picks up, setting a new tempo that seems just right for the moment, a perfect backing for a myriad of silent declarations.

That seems to do the trick because you admit defeat without hesitation and utter the same words back with an extra one following in tandem.

“I love you too.”

₊˚ପ HEIZOU

“Oh? Do you not love me anymore?” Heizou confronts the problem head-on, feigning sadness. A smirk spreads across his face when he sees your confused expression, but he manages to erase it in an instant, deceiving even the eyes of his partner.

You should have known better than to play a prank of this sort on him. After all, Heizou’s always been one to turn your tricks against you.

As soon as your eyes widen and your jaw drops, Heizou knows that he’s won. To his relief, you don’t notice the way his verdant pools of peridot sparkle with mischief. You’re too absorbed in your panic to sense that anything is off.

He has to continuously stifle bouts of laughter. Heizou finds your reactions slightly too cute.

“N-No! I didn’t mean it like that!” you blurt out in a tone laced with desperation. “I’m sorry. I should have known that you would have noticed something was off. You’re always so perceptive,” you speak sheepishly, averting your gaze. “I just wanted to see how you’d react if I didn’t say it back…”

Heizou chuckles.

“You’re too cute, darling,” he muses, staring you straight in the eyes. “Fortunately for you, my intuition told me that you were just messing with me.”

You groan.

“Of course you figured it out,” you sigh.

Heizou can’t help but mentally agree. He’s already used to solving mysteries, and the fact that the two of you are so close doesn’t quite work to your advantage. Your boyfriend knows you like the back of his hand, and unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of piecing together the puzzles you craft in an attempt to elicit reactions from him.

“I think I deserve a reward for cracking this case,” he says, pointing a finger at his lips.

When Heizou sees your eyes light up, glowing with the opalescent radiance of a nebula, he knows he’s about to get what he wants.

With one quick movement, you lean in nervously to place a shy kiss on Heizou’s lips, clearly still embarrassed by your failure. When you pull away, you take a few steps backwards before gazing deep into your boyfriend’s eyes. In that moment, Heizou realizes that the sentiments swirling through your irises — feelings embodied by the warm hues of a dying sunset — are nothing but sincere.

₊˚ପ KAZUHA

Kazuha knows you’re teasing him. From the subtle grin you’re trying to hide to the mischievous light dancing within your star-flecked irises, it’s not difficult to discern that you’re teasing him.

But despite everything, he decides to play along.

“I love you,” he repeats, gently taking your hand in his. He plants a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, a charming habit more than a calculated measure.

Kazuha glances up at you and smiles — a gentle expression that lights up your day with rays of golden sunshine. In a single flash, your cheekiness vanishes, and instead, an awestruck gaze paints itself across your face.

Kazuha suppresses a giggle. Far too often, he finds himself enamoured with you, especially when you’re flustered. He attempts to memorize the sight before him, engraving every dip and curve of your facial features into his memories.

You’re just far too endearing for him to resist, and besides, you’re his muse. Kazuha isn’t exactly sure how he knows it, but somehow, he’s certain that someday this moment will undergo a metamorphosis within a hall of crystallized memories, transforming from a fond recollection of the past to strings of eloquently phrased words — a haiku.

You look absolutely captivated by him, and although he didn’t intentionally try to send your heart into a frenzy of vivid daydreams and rose-tinted adoration, he’s glad you find him so attractive. A few seconds pass before you give in.

“I love you too,” you whisper breathlessly, grinning at Kazuha before leaving for the day. As soon as you’re out the door, Kazuha chuckles, eyes containing the essence of autumn mingling with a bright moonglow, swirling with amusement.

“I love you more.”

₊˚ପ SCARAMOUCHE

Scaramouche is confused, but he tries his best not to show it. He’s fairly certain that the two of you haven’t argued recently, so why is it that you’re not reciprocating his affections?

Although Scaramouche acts like he doesn’t care sometimes, he knows all your small habits. And as your lover, he finds it odd that you aren’t uttering those three powerful words back. That coupled with the fact that it’s rather difficult for him to express his feelings makes him desperate for a response.

“Are you forgetting something?” he grumbles, not wanting to seem too desperate. Deep down, his emotions cause whirlwinds of conflicting thoughts to swirl in his mind.

He watches as you blink — slowly, gradually as if you want to stretch seconds into eons. A frown etches itself into his forehead, and he feels irritation begin to overtake his heart. Storm clouds, tinted an ominous grey, overwhelm the ambience.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you shake your head.

“I don’t think so,” you tell him.

Scaramouche’s features twist into a pout, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Yet at the same time, your boyfriend is embarrassed beyond measure. He feels his cheeks heating up, and he’s absolutely sure that shades of pink reminiscent of a sunrise have begun to dust his pale cheeks.

“Fine,” he breathes out, rolling his eyes and turning away. “Forget it. I’ll see you tonight.” Scaramouche tries to brush it off casually, attempting to erase the odd experience from memory.

He want nothing more than to hear you say those three words back, but he’s far too proud to admit it.

He nearly walks away before he feels a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Wait,” you say. “I was just kidding.”

Scaramouche groans. He turns around in order to face you.

“How irritating,” he sighs. He brushes his hair, silken strands spun of midnight, away from in front of his eyes. Scaramouche can’t believe you were able to sense his vulnerability.

You giggle upon seeing Scaramouche’s grumpy face.

“You owe me for this,” he states.

“I know,” you whisper, stepping closer to him and leaning in.

Scaramouche feels his breath hitch, and before he knows what’s happening, the sensation of your warm lips against his overwhelms his senses. Sparks fly in the edges of his vision, and soon enough, a passionate fire is set ablaze in a grand display of crimson elation.

Although you didn’t say anything in response when he told you he loved you, your wordless exchange of adoration speaks volumes.

I love you.

₊˚ପ XIAO

Xiao sucks in a quiet breath as you turn away from him. It’s not often that he expresses his affection verbally, and the fact that you’re barely responding to his declaration of love is unnerving.

He looks down, strands of seafoam obscuring his gaze, blocking eyes of honeyed amber from your line of sight. However, he raises his head after only a few seconds, attempting to ignore the feeling of unease creeping up on him, freezing his very being with a subtle chill. It’s barely there — a pain nowhere near the sting of a frostbite — yet it still eats away at him, reminding him again and again that something is wrong.

But although Xiao wants to ask you if anything’s bothering you or if he did something to upset you, he can’t. Translating his emotions into words feels far too difficult, especially because in all honestly, this situation is probably no big deal — or so he tells himself. Your nonchalance contrasts with his overthinking, causing doubt to well up within his mind.

In the end, he allows you to leave, wallowing within an aquamarine sea of thoughts. The world has been painted a watercolour blue. Although he refuses to admit it, melancholy overtakes Xiao’s heart, as he’s now both confused and lost.

Did he upset you?

The idea doesn’t seem too outlandish. Xiao’s never been good at interpreting emotions or expressing them, and it’s one of his greatest insecurities as your boyfriend. He’s gotten better over time, but there are times where he still worries about being too oblivious to your feelings.

Unfortunately for Xiao, you’re out for the day, so there’s plenty of time for negative thoughts to ruminate in his mind, festering until they reach the point of becoming a soulless black hole, draining every bit of confidence from him.

As the skies outside the glass windows of your shared home begin to tint with a rosy blush, and a golden light paints the world in shades of ephemeral warmth, Xiao becomes restless. You’ll be back any moment, and then, he’ll have to face you. Anticipation causes his heart to beat in a frenzy as the minute of your arrival approaches.

And sure enough, you return at the exact time you always do.

As soon as you walk through the door, Xiao walks over to greet you, gauging your reactions. When you see him, the corners of your lips turn up in an ethereal smile, and the rest of your face lights up.

Your delighted expression takes Xiao aback. He didn’t expect such a pleasant greeting after the events of this morning, but he brushes it off, allowing a grin to dance across his features in tandem, reciprocating your look of absolute adoration.

“I missed you,” he whispers, stepping closer to you in order to gently take your hand in his.

To assure himself that you’re here in the moment. That nothing’s wrong.

He sighs contently when you don’t pull away. The solace of your intertwined fingers is akin to the tidings of a viridescent spring after countless days of pure white dusting a panoramic landscape. It’s a breath of fresh air after eons spent hyperventilating in the frigidness of a crystallized wasteland, silently fading away amongst seas of sparkling snow.

Xiao can finally breathe again.

And when he laters asks why you didn’t return the three precious words he uttered under his breath earlier that day, as the sun had just begun bathing the world in aureate light, your answer causes his face to heat up.

It was nothing more than a prank.

disappearing back into my gremlin cave for another fifty years now!! thank you so much for reading!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #heizou x reader #albedo x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #genshin fluff

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shotmrmiller · 19 days

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expanding on the konig ask // it turned a bit nsfw sorry

könig would mistake your simple kindness as a crush.

he'd been slightly startled when you gently rapped on his office door to ask him if he wanted a cup of warm caffeine before breakfast since you're already getting one for yourself. (he hasn't a clue that horangi had practically begged for one too.)

then was the one time you'd offered to stitch the tear in his hood. he'd sputtered, completely taken aback by how brazen you'd been. "nein." he'd stiffly walked away apple-cheeked; hands balled into fists in his pockets. (no one knows how to sew for shit, you're the team medic of both bodies and clothing.)

then you bring him an apple pastry. the pencil (könig, please. we are in 2k24 use a pen) snaps in his hand when you choke out, "apfel strudel". his mother tongue rolling off of yours is truly too much and when you leave, he fists himself under his desk with the butchered words echoing inside his head. shame roils in his gut after— post-nut clarity hitting like nothing else— and with a snarl, he wipes the thick cum off of his hand on his pants while using the other to eat the treat that you so kindly baked for him. (the pastry was cold and made of tart green apples which he's hated since he was a lad.)

and now, with your head resting on his padded shoulder, dozing off. his tongue is tied in a knot and there's a lump in his throat because no one's ever really dared to be so forward with him. not only is he a walking pussy deterrent— what with his height and creepy, blank stare— but he's also a colonel; your superior. he can only have him under you in one way and that's under his command. so he makes his choice. once the helo lands back at base, könig taps the side of your helmet with his finger and mutedly asks you to meet him in his office.

"i am flattered, ja? but you must cease this behavior."

"sir?"

he clenches his jaw, crooked teeth gnashing together in determination. he won't let your pretty, round face deter him from his duty to his country, the team, nor you. it simply wouldn't be fair. he's your leader so it's up to him to put a stop to this. könig refuses to acknowledge the look of disappointment on your face. (delusional. you look confused because you literally have no idea what he's talking about.)

"the food—"

"you didn't like it? the apfel strudel?" he chokes on his spit when you say it and turns around to pound at his chest. he doesn't hear how you had told fender to not order that dessert. 'just because it's austrian doesn't mean the colonel will like it.'

he's fortunate to have such a tall backrest on his office chair because his cock is already at half-mast and your dulcet voice reverberating off the plain walls of his small office is doing him no favors. könig stands directly behind it and dismisses you with a wave of his hand and a hoarse command.

how tantalizing you are, so bold to be showcasing your talent in home economics just like a frigatebird puffing its chest out to attract a mate. his grip on the chair tightens, the leather protesting with a soft creak.

it's just a crush. time will erode these frail sentiments you've come to have for him (for him! an old, ugly man whose virginity has practically grown back since the last time he slept with someone was a paid sex worker years ago) and so he'll just ignore them.

(he doesn't. he fucks his pillow every night— jaw trembling and saliva pooling— thinking it's you taking him instead and confuses your s/o as a relative.)

#könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig mw2

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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Partnership

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, theft, threats of violence, implied non-con, if your name is Stacy pretend it isn't, Stockholm Syndrome, brief mention of vomiting, Nobunaga is featured a bit in this but don't worry he doesn't want you, fem reader, MDNI

This is dedicated to @ramwrites, who is amazing and wonderful and offered to write me a welcome back gift, and I couldn't not give something back in return! Thanks for letting me write this for you; your writing is so good and makes me all giggly and inspired. For those interested, please check out her Shalnark piece - I haven't read it yet, but I'm sure it's just as good as everything else Ram produces.

WC: 10K

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

“So you went and got yourself kidnapped, huh?” Uvogin asks, cocking a brow at you.

You, who’s tied to a metal chair, gagged and blindfolded, very clearly having no fucking clue what is going on.

You squirm, sitting up straight at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice. Your cute little sleeping shorts had ridden up a bit, exposing more of your thigh than you were probably comfortable with, and Uvo notices with a distant sense of enjoyment that the thin nightshirt you’re sporting is doing very little to hide the way the cold air is affecting your chest.

You’re weak, really; a pathetic little thing that has him scoffing and crossing his arms.

“Listen up, I’m only gonna tell you this once. A friend of yours – Stacy, was it? Anyway, this friend of yours got herself noticed by the wrong type of guy.” He starts, plopping down and sitting in his own identical metal chair, just without the restraints.

You stop struggling when he mentions her name, and he takes this as a sign to continue.

“See, Nobuanga’s not a bad guy. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but any guy who isn’t is hardly worth knowing.” He chuckles at his own assessment of his closest friend, though you don’t seem to share the sentiment. “Stacy works at that shitty little restaurant he loves – the one with the sticky, greasy booths and the fries that come drenched with salt and are so limp they literally drip oil.”

He shivers at the mere memory, the hamburger he’d ordered barely worth eating.

“Don’t know what she did, exactly, but somehow he’s smitten – she’s got him all fucked up, ranting and raving about how beautiful she is and how she smiles at him all the time and flirts with him on the clock. Real annoying, if you ask me.” He sighs heavily, letting his thumb sit at his chin as he loses himself in the story of his best friend falling in love – with your best friend, no less.

“And then she quit her job, I’m sure you know. Started working up at that movie theater – more shitty, oily food, just popcorn instead of fries this time.” He laughs again. “Nobunaga went crazy over that, you know, thinking that maybe she wanted to work in a more intimate setting like that so that he could sneak her off into some abandoned theater and get some one-on-one quality time, if you know what I mean.”

You grimace, at both the implications of his last statement and the mention of Stacy quitting. You know exactly why she’d quit – it was the whole reason you’d been staying at her place, really. She was convinced she had a stalker, that there was this crazy man who used to bother her at the diner and follow her home. It’d scared her, obviously, and she’d requested – with a guilty look and fiddling thumbs – if you’d be willing to spend the next few nights are her place with her, because maybe if there was more than one person home he wouldn’t get gutsy and break in. Of course you’d agreed, believing her fully and not wanting to leave her alone to deal with this crazed freak.

Although now, you’re starting to regret that decision just a bit.

“As I’m sure you know, it didn’t change much. Pretty stupid, to be honest – if a stalker’s that dedicated, how the hell is a change of occupation going to change anything? Chick’s pretty dumb, if you ask me.” He shrugs, and although you can’t see it through your blindfold, you’re sure his face is awfully apathetic about the whole situation. “She was ignoring him, refusing to serve him at the theater, reporting him to her manager, even calling the police and getting a description of him circulating. She was going to get a restraining order against him, even – again, like that’d do shit.”

He snorts, and you bite into the gag harder.

Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. “See, that’s the thing about Nobunaga. He might seem a little lazy sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold when it comes to the ones he cares about. He’d do anything for that woman – steal for her, kill for her, anything at all. He’s a sap, totally obsessed with the chick, but it’s kind of sweet in a way, I guess. Means he really cares about her. Isn’t that funny? Her stalker really is in love with her.”

You don’t find it particularly funny, but you can’t say much.

“Anyways, the police finally got a sighting of him last night. Went through the system pretty fast – I’m a little impressed, to be honest. Normally takes those bastards much longer to process things. Regardless, a few too many sirens were going last night, even a few cars parked outside the apartment he’s been squatting in, yelling his name in those big, gaudy megaphones of theirs. Caused a real stir, and sent the guy into a panic.”

He takes a moment to breath, tapping his foot lightly on the ground. “So what does he do? He calls me, in the middle of the night, talking so fast that I can’t even understand the guy. All I’m hearing is Stacy this, Stacy that, police and blah blah blah recognized. I had to force the words out of him before it made any sense, the idiot.” That same laugh rattles in your ears.

“Eventually I got him to be coherent, and he told me that he had to ‘make his move’, whatever the hell that meant. Said he couldn’t wait anymore, that he had to take Stacy and run – the police were coming, and even though it’s not hard to take out a couple of poorly trained guys, it’s still a pain in the ass and Shizuku’s not here to clean up his mess.

“Anyways, he starts begging me – literally, actually pleading with me, imagine that – to come and help him out. He told me there’s this other chick at her place – some girl she’s been keeping around for some unknown reason, and he needs someone to take care of the body.” Your blood goes cold, fear suddenly creeping back up your throat.

Was he going to kill you? Why was he bothering to tell you all this if he was just planning on slicing open your neck? Did he find some sick pleasure in prolonging your death?

He notices your discomfort, it seems, because soon he’s rolling his eyes, scoffing at you. “Calm down. You’re such a bad actor – can’t even see your face, really, and I know you’re scared shitless now. I’m not going to kill you, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You calm slightly, but not much.

“As I was saying, there’s this girl he needs me to take care of – a quick death, nothing too flashy, which makes me immediately ask why the hell he’d request me of all people, when every time I kill it’s messy. It’s kind of my trademark, you know?”

You didn’t, and you hoped it’d stay that way.

He sighs again. “Anyways, I head on over to Stacy’s apartment, meeting Nobunaga outside and listening to him run down the plan. He’s going to run inside and knock her out, pulling her out of bed and running off to God knows where he’s got all set up for the two of them. And while he’s busy doing that, I’m supposed to head in and eliminate the friend. Seemed easy enough, if not a bit tedious, so I agree and we head inside, keeping mind of the sirens still in the distance.

“Everything’s going smoothly, except once we get the front door open, it becomes very clear that Nobunaga was stupid and panicked and didn’t bother to doublecheck if Stacy was actually asleep.” He pauses to sigh dramatically, like it’s some big annoyance. “She’s fully awake, standing about ten feet away from the door, and then she starts fucking screaming.”

You remember that bit – the screaming, that is, because it had woken you up from your slumber on Stacy’s couch. Everything is still blurry after that, disorientation fogging your brain from being so abruptly woken up.

“She’s yelling and screeching, and if Nobunaga hadn’t been there I probably would’ve killed her myself just to get her to shut the fuck up. She’s got one of those high, shrill, shrieky voices, you know? The kind that really drive me up the wall - it’s damn annoying.” He pauses, looking at you skeptically. “Hope you haven’t got one of those, things’ll get messy real quick if you do.”

You hope you don’t, either.

“He rushes forward and tries to grab her, but she swats at him and, get this, manages to punch him in the dick.” He laughs aloud at that, slapping his knee and throwing his head back. “This weak-ass girl manages to get him on the ground flat, stupid ass’s hands clutching at his dick, and what does she do in the meantime? She runs over to the couch, grabbing this girl and staring back at me like I’m some monster.”

You make a noise through the gag, but Uvogin ignores it.

“I’ve gotta hand it to Stacy, though, she’s got guts. She starts yellin’ at us about how she won’t let us kill the girl, how she’ll kill herself before she lets us get our hands on her, and immediately Nobunaga crumbles. I don’t know why the idiot didn’t think of the possibility earlier, but he totally freezes up when she threatens that, just gaping like a fish. It was pretty awkward for me, to be honest, because watching him get so thoroughly rejected was giving me serious second hand embarrassment. I mean, the chick literally said she’d rather kill herself than let Nobuanga take her – pretty harsh if you ask me.”

He looks back at your covered face, letting his gaze linger on the edges of the blindfold. “So he panics and gives into her demand, telling her he won’t kill her friend – says that he’ll just take her too, so that way everyone’s happy.”

He frowns a bit at you, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, everyone except you, probably. And except Stacy, too, probably. And except me. So really, Nobunaga’s the only happy one.”

Your face would sour if it was able to.

“Anyways, it wasn’t hard to knock them both out and bring ‘em to their respective holding places. I’ve got no clue where the hell Nobunaga’s keeping his chick, but I’m sure you’ve figured out that you’re Stacy’s little friend.”

You nod, slowly, the movement limited by your restraints. Your wrists have gone numb and your ankles feel bruised and sore, the ropes keeping them pinned the legs of the chair making blood flow difficult.

“So, what to do with you now.” His voice is wistful, like he’s actually contemplating, and that same familiar fear washes over you again.

He groans, the chair skidding out behind him as he stands to his full height. “Would you quit it with the fear? I already told you I’m not killing you, are you even listening to me?”

You nod again, faster this time.

Uvogin sighs, shuffling forward towards you. You can hear him approaching, and although your shoulders stiffen up, you try not to look as terrified as you feel. It doesn’t seem to work all that well, but he spares you another comment about it.

Soon the blindfold is ripped off your head, leaving your hair messy and out of place, your eyes squinting and blinking rapidly to adjust to the rather bright white light hanging over you and what you can now see is an absolute behemoth of a man.

He’s fucking huge – towering over you in every sense of the word, muscles practically bulging out of his body with how defined and massive they are. Black hairs cover every inch of his body you can see, even his arms and especially the bits of chest peeking out of his white top. Ragged, unruly hair sweeps down to his shoulders, making the muscles of his neck look even firmer, and you gulp. Any chance of escaping has basically left you now – there’s no way in hell you could ever beat that, especially if he’d already managed to kidnap you once.

He clears his throat and your gaze is brought up to his face, a small, strange wave of embarrassment flooding through you as you realize you’ve been caught staring. He’s smirking, though, and you take in the sharp line of his jaw, the thick, dark eyebrows that frame equally dark eyes. He’s attractive, in a strange, rugged sort of way, and you immediately feel sick at the thought.

“You like what you’re seein’?” He teases, and you immediately look away, still unable to reply with the gag covering your mouth.

He laughs, and sets his hands on his lips. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Before you freak out, I can’t kill you because that damn Stacy really seems to care about you, and she’s told Nobunaga she’ll kill herself if she doesn’t get regular proof that you’re still alive.”

A flame of hope ignites in your chest, and internally you thank Stacy, even if this whole situation is less than ideal.

He seems to sense your sudden upturn in mood, chuckling with a condescending lilt. “Oh no, princess, that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. No, you’ve gotta stay put, because now that you know what I look like, you’ll go to the cops and report me as fast as those little legs of yours can manage.”

You shake your head at that, eyes glistening with tears as he shuts down your last hope of escaping. Please, you internally beg him, hoping he’ll somehow be able to sense this too. I won’t, I promise!

His gaze narrows at you, before that same smirk is back. “I’m sure if you could talk you’d be telling me how you’ll never tell a soul, but you and I both know that’s bullshit. So I’ll save us both some time and keep you here, so that I don’t have to track you down again and lock you back up once you’ve just gotten free.”

You visibly deflate, and if Uvogin had been a kinder man, he would’ve almost felt bad for you. But instead, he just hums, crouching down in front of you. Even squatting he’s still taller than you, and it does nothing to make you feel less scared.

“Now listen up, here are the rules. I’m a pretty nice guy, all things considered, so don’t break my rules and I won’t break your bones.”

Your eyes get wide, but you nod along. He smiles, patting your knee.

“That’s good, see? You’re already doing better than that Stacy girl, at least you’re not fighting me every step of the way.” Something about his statement makes guilt eat away at your chest – are you supposed to be fighting more? There doesn’t really seem to be a point – this man is massive, and you’re all bound and unable to move. You’re doing the best you can, right?

“First,” He holds up a finger, “don’t even bother trying to escape. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you, and smarter than you. There’s nothing you can try that I won’t see through, and you’ll end up regretting it more than you can imagine.

“Second, no trying to hurt yourself. Nobunaga will kill me if I let you die, and it’d be a pain to deal with him.” He fixes you a stern look, and you nod.

“Third, don’t go digging through my shit. I’m doing my buddy a favor by keeping you here, and if I find you snooping around… He didn’t say anything about roughing you up a bit, and it might be good for Stacy to see you with some bruises or a cast or two.” His threat doesn’t go unheard, and you nod again, throat bobbing as you swallow.

He stares at you for a moment more, gaze calculating and judging whether you’ve really accepted his conditions, before strong fingers come up to untie the knot keeping your gag in place.

“Don’t you scream, I’ll have to shut you up if you do.” He warns, before pulling the fabric away. Immediately you’re flexing your jaw, the muscle aching as you move it, and he watches with a neutral expression. You’re still tied up, unable to move really, and Uvogin gets a fleeting thought of how pitiful you look.

“Um,” You start, your voice a bit hoarse from being so dry and unused for the last few hours. “What’s your name?”

He blinks, before laughing a bit. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked, all the things you could’ve said and done as soon as you woke up from learning you’ve been kidnapped, and that’s what you chose? Shit, you wouldn’t survive in the wild, would you?”

Shame creeps up your neck at his belittlement, but before you can defend yourself he’s answering. “It’s Uvogin.”

You nod, not willing to look at him. It’s silent for a few moments, before he sighs again and reaches forward to untie the rope shackling your ankles and wrists. As soon as you’re free, you try to stretch out your limbs, keeping a weary eye on the man – Uvogin.

What a stupid name.

“Well, the fact that you’re not screaming your head off is a promising sign. Get up, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He orders, already taking off towards the door in the corner of the small room. You try to follow him, but your legs aren’t moving right, and it takes you a while to make your way over there. He looks irritated at your lack of speed, but says nothing, only holding open the door until you make your way through.

You’re led down into a rather sparse apartment, only furnished with a single gray couch against one wall (with a few stains on it that make you wince a bit), a TV and some cabinets, a wooden table and two chairs, and a beat-up fridge in the adjoining kitchen. Everything’s clean, but the space lacks any sort of personality, and it makes you uncomfortable.

“That’s your bed, extra blankets are in the closet. If you need anything tell me, and I might snag it for you next time I’m out on a job.” Something about the way he says ‘snag’ makes you nervous, so you just mutter a small affirmation.

He gives you one last glance over, his eyes once again lingering on your chest, before stepping through the doorway.

“Wait, Uvogin!” Your voice, a bit wobbly and unsure, makes him turn back, his brow cocked and curiosity dancing on his features. (And a bit of surprise, too, because he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him, or even use his name. Maybe you weren’t as skittish and weak as you seemed – though, he doubted that.)

“Um, is it possible for me to see Stacy soon?” You asked, voice growing smaller with every word. He blinks, before standing up a bit straighter.

“Actually, you’re in luck. Nobunaga called me about an hour ago and let me know we’re meeting up in a few days – he said it would be good for Stacy to have a ‘playdate’ with you. Whatever the fuck that means.” Uvogin shrugs, looking entirely uninterested, and you bristle at Nobunaga’s choice of words. Poor Stacy.

Excitement brews in your chest; at least you’ll have a familiar face, and hopefully the stranger hasn’t done anything too terrible to your friend. Nodding, you glance back to the floor, wishing the hulking man staring at you would just leave. He does, a few moments later, and only then do you allow yourself to slump onto the bed he’s assigned you. The bedroom is bare like the rest of the home, with a twin bed set in the corner and a small set of drawers sitting nearby. It makes you laugh humorlessly – were you supposed to fill that chest? With what? You hadn’t brought anything with you, and you seriously doubted Uvogin would let you return home to grab some of your clothes.

Sighing, you sat onto the bed, the mattress firm under you. Distantly, some part of you was pleased – at least the bed would be comfortable enough.

Time passes slowly as you sit on the bed – not your bed, not yet. You stare at the wall ahead of you, the fear slowly seeping out of your system until only exhaustion remains. Sleep eventually takes over, and although you try to fight it, you’re slipping into a dreamless slumber before long.

Uvogin’s tolerable, you’ve found. He’s certainly not nice, nor is he an especially great person to be around, but he could be much worse, you suppose. He’s fed you twice daily for however long you’ve been stuck here (it feels like a week, so you’re assuming it is, if only to stave off any self-doubt that’s creeping into the corners of your mind), and the food’s not terrible. It’s clearly takeout, the packaging sometimes even having Chinese characters on it or restaurant logos, and you’ve been mostly satisfied with his choices so far. He’ll sometimes ask you what you want, and while you were too scared to answer the first few times (which only makes him scowl and roll his eyes, muttering a small damn, Nobunaga owes me one), eventually you’d felt safe enough to be honest.

He hasn’t hurt you, either. At least, not yet. You’re aware he could, if he wanted to – those muscles make it hard to forget, and you’d seen him crush his phone in his hand like a bug when a phone call with someone named Franklinwent poorly.

He’s scary, still, but you’ve reached the point now where you aren’t practically hyperventilating every time he enters the room. You still keep him in your field of vision, weary for any sudden changes in his behavior, but every day that passes has you growing more complacent with your position. The constant threat of Stacy potentially facing consequences for your actions doesn’t deter you from being on your best behavior, either.

Besides, sometimes he’s even a little bit funny – not that you’d ever laugh at his jokes, but he has this weird sense of humor that you think you’d like, if the situation had been different. If you’d met him on the street you definitely would’ve tried to cross to the other side, but you would’ve found him oddly charming, his snide remarks and cocky air a bit entertaining.

You try not to think about that, though, because the mere presence of these thoughts means the Stockholm Syndrome is starting to kick in. And while you aren’t the most resilient person on the planet, even you have to admit it’s a bit early for that.

Sighing, you take another bite of the curry he’d brought you, pleasantly surprised that the spice level was perfect. Uvogin didn’t have many rules, it was true, but he did have a few unspoken ones – one of which being that meals, particularly take-out meals, were to be eaten at the small, rickety table. Together, which wasn’t ideal.

“I’ve gotta make sure you don’t try to starve yourself or choke.” He’d told you the first time, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you into the seat across from his, the noodles sitting in front of you still packaged neatly in their container. At first you’d been nervous he would try to poison you, but eventually hunger got the best of you and you were slurping the noodles down, still keeping a nervous eye on the hulking man in front of you.

“So, big news.” He starts, taking a bite out of his chicken. He always took big bites, you’d noticed, but he ordered enough food that even if his pace was twice as fast as yours, he never finished before you.

You glance up at him, trying not to let toomuch curiosity show on your face, but he seems to realize anyway.

“I know you haven’t been up to much, but don’t make your excitement so obvious. Hurts my feelings to know you think I’m so boring.” He’s joking, you think, and to sate him you attempt to smile.

“Nobunaga called me again this morning; today’s the day.”

You practically choke on your food, eyes blowing wide and your hands beginning to shake. Finally, finally you’d be able to see Stacy – you’d been worried sick about her the last week or so, terrified that her transition to the life of being a captive hadn’t gone as smoothly as your own. (You snorted bitterly at that – smooth probably wasn’t the best word for how you’d been feeling, but at least you hadn’t been hit yet, or assaulted or any number of things. Hopefully Nobunaga wasn’t any worse of a person than your own captor.)

Uvogin is watching you, you realize, with a strange look in his eye. As soon as you glance up at him you look away again, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even as you ask, “That’s good, it’ll be nice to see her again.”

It’s silent for a moment, before his booming laugh makes you wince a bit. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. Finish up, I don’t like wasting food. Once you’re done we’ll head out - try to not to choke.”

He says that right as you start shoveling the food into your mouth, hoping that eating quicker will mean you can see Stacy quicker. He chuckles at you, but you follow his orders and slow down a bit. He throws you one more glance, that cocky smile on his lips, before digging into his own food again.

He’s eating a bit faster than normal, too, you notice.

He apologizes with an insincere tone as he ties the blindfold back on you (he’d told you that you can’t know where you are just in case you decide to get rebellious and run away), and soon you’re stuffed into a car. Everything’s hard to keep track of when you can’t see, but Uvogin’s talking (like normal), so you try to tune into the sound of his voice to help the time pass.

“Now listen, you might not wanna touch her too much, Nobunaga’s a bit…” He trails off, and you can hear his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Possessive. You’re her friend and all, and I’m sure he won’t hurt you, especially not in front of her, but be careful.”

You nod, absentmindedly.

“Also, don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t look the way she used to. He was always going on about how she was dressed too inappropriately in her day-to-day life, so she might be a little underdressed.”

He’d hesitated to say underdressed, and you tried not to think about what that could mean.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and you shift in the car seat. He’d let you sit in the front, an unexpected luxury, but you didn’t like that he could see you while you couldn’t see him. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were mostly confident of that now, but who knew what he had planned.

“We’re almost there. If things go badly, I’ll get you out of there. You’re pretty damn weak, a broken bone would probably take a few weeks for you to heal. I don’t want to deal with you being injured, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

Your lips must’ve given away your fear, because a moment later he’s sighing. “Did you know that you practically reek your emotions? I feel like I can smell ‘em, even when I can’t even see half your damn face.”

You don’t have anything to say to that, but you force yourself to speak anyway, not wanting to dignify his last comment. “Do you think – well, do you think Nobunaga will want to hurt me?”

Uvogin ponders your question for a moment, surprised that you’d spoken up. You hadn’t done much talking in the time he’d had you – he was sure it was because you were scared, but it was nice to hear you talking to him like you weren’t scared shitless of him. Even if you had every reason to be so terrified.

“Honestly, probably. Especially if you touch her.”

You suck in a breath, and Uvogin hums. “But it’s not going to happen.”

“What do you mean?”

You could practically hear his toothy grin.

“It’s my job to protect you, right? So I will. Even if the one you need protecting from is the same guy who wants you to be protected.”

Something in his tone gives you the impression he means those words more than he’s letting on, and you shiver as you imagine just who this Nobunaga guy could possibly be.

“Oh my god, oh my god – you’re alive! Thank god!” Stacy sobs, arms wrapping around you like a vice before you can even respond. You clutch her back just as tightly, burying your face into her brown curls, a few tears pricking at your eyes. You’d been nervous that Nobunaga would’ve hurt her, with the way Uvogin was describing him, but after a thorough look-over, you find no bruises or marks marring her olive skin.

Eventually she pulls back, but keeps her hands firmly grasping your shoulders. Her eyes are red with tears, and her lower lip is wobbling. She’s not hurt, but she looks bad – there’s heavy bags under eyes and her hair is frazzled, her lips look swollen and she’s clutching onto you hard. Really hard.

“Stacy, are you hurt?” You ask, letting your hands cup her cheeks. You see Nobunaga – who Uvogin had pointed out with a small that’s the guy when you’d walked in – stiffen up at that, and Uvogin’s warning flashes through your mind. You might not want to touch her. Right.

Stacy glances over at her captor, and you follow her gaze, only to see Uvogin give you a small nod and drag his friend out the door by the collar of his purple kimono, calling over his shoulder that they’ll be back in exactly five minutes, and that they’ll know if you try to escape.

As soon as the door closes, Stacy pulls you in for another hug, the words flying out of her mouth so quickly you can barely understand her. “He’s – Nobunaga, he’s horrible. He never leaves me alone, and he treats me like I’m some incompetent little baby, and he’s always touching me and I just – I can’t –“

You cut her off by pressing her face into your neck again, rubbing the back of her head and letting her cry. You’re crying too, now, but your tears fall silently compared to her sobbing.

You don’t say much, because what can you say? It would be a lie to tell her that everything’s going to be okay, and every other reassurance that dances on the tip of your tongue just feels wrong, like you’d be pointedly lying to her. Instead, you let her get it out, her grip on you never loosening. You’d known Nobunaga had been the root of all her anxieties the last few months, long before he’d gotten the gall to kidnap her. And while you were happy that she wasn’t hurt, it still pained you to see her like this.

Eventually she’d calmed down, and you feel her pull back and wipe at her sniffling nose. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers to you, looking like she’s on the verge of crying again. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, I should’ve just gone quietly and left you alone. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay with me for a few weeks, now you’re really stuck with that monster.”

You don’t tell her that it’s okay, because it’s not. Some part of you is still bitter and resentful towards her for involving you, because she’s right. You could be still living your life if she hadn’t requested you to help deter her stalker from making a move. But despite your anger, you can’t find it in yourself to hate her. Not when she’s like this – not when she’s probably experiencing something even worse than you.

“It doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that we’re both alive, and we’re both okay. Or, at least, okay as we can be, given the situation.” You tell her, smiling softly. She blinks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, before nodding and swallowing.

“Yeah, I was worried that you wouldn’t be, with the way Nobunaga was talking about Uvogin.” Her voice was hoarse still, and you laughed humorlessly at that.

“Yeah, well, he hasn’t hurt me yet, so I think I’ll be okay. He mostly just ignores me, honestly, so I guess I’m lucky.” Your attempt at optimism doesn’t make Stacy smile like you’d hoped. Rather, her lips pull into a frown and her eyebrows furrow.

“He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense.”

You expression mirrors hers. “What? I mean, the only reason I got kidnapped too was insurance so that you wouldn’t kill yourself –“

Stacy’s face morphs into one of horror, and her grip on your shoulders goes slack.

Quickly you’re backpedaling, worried the mention of her self-imposed death might’ve triggered something you wanted to avoid. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, I totally understand why you –“

“Alright, time’s up.” Nobunaga’s voice interrupts, and knuckly hands are suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you aside so that Nobunaga can stand in front of Stacy. You stumble back, falling backwards against Uvogin’s hard chest, immediately standing up straight.

Nobunaga’s cupping Stacy’s chin, and you can see from this angle the way he smiles, a slight pink color flooding his cheeks. It makes you sick, and the pained look on Stacy’s face only makes your gut sink more. She’s looking at you still, and something about the way her brows are cocked inward that makes you feel like she’s almost pitying you.

“Did you miss me, baby?” Nobunaga’s cooing down at her, and it makes your skin crawl. Uvogin sighs from behind you and grabs your wrist, dragging you out of the room. His grip is surprisingly gentle, and as you watch Stacy slowly fade from your view, you can’t help but be slightly grateful that at least your captor isn’t leaning down for a kiss like hers.

The car ride home is mostly quiet, and it’s not until you’re nearing the end of your time in the vehicle that Uvogin breaks the silence.

“So, what did you talk about while we were gone? Girly shit?” You think he’s attempting a joke, but you can’t even pretend to laugh at it.

“She’s not happy.” You comment, voice slightly flat, and Uvogin snorts at your words.

“Of course she’s not happy, she’s just been kidnapped. And by her stalker, no less – would anyone be happy? Hell, are you happy?” He asks you, and you blanch at his question. Somehow, though, it feels like some sort of trap, so you stay quiet.

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s pulling you out of the car, your footsteps hesitant and clumsy because he’d put that damn blindfold on you again. He guides you up to the apartment, and soon you’re standing in the living room area, the fabric falling from your eyes.

“I’ve got some errands to run today, so I’ll be gone for a while. Do you want anything while I’m out?” He asks, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. You’re a bit touched that he’s offering to get you something, but you try not to focus on it. Of course you’re feeling grateful for him – he may be holding you captive, yes, but at least he hasn’t tried to kiss you or touch you. Poor Stacy didn’t share your luck.

“Um, maybe some chips? I don’t care what flavor, just something crunchy…” You trail off, looking at him nervously. You’d never requested anything before, and some part of you is convinced he’d only asked you the question to laugh in your face and deny you.

He cracks a smile and nods, hand already on the doorknob. “Okay. Okay, but you’d better be prepared to share, because I happen to be a big chip fan myself. So don’t get greedy, yeah?”

You half-smile, rubbing at your arm. “Yeah, I won’t be.”

He steps out the door, and once again the apartment is silent, his presence gone and all movement within the room gone, too.

The TV won’t work for you, you know that, but you’re still trying to get it to behave. Uvogin had to type in some password every time he turned it on, and it was too long and encoded for you to ever be able to decipher it. Still, you were clicking the power button of the remote over and over, hoping against hope that it would somehow short circuit and bypass that password screen. When it didn’t, you only sighed, rising to your feet and wandering towards the monitor.

Uvogin, you’d learned, was surprisingly meticulous – surprisingly organized, really. Meaning there was a chance he’d written down the password to the TV and had it stored somewhere. He’d only been gone for about a half hour, if the clock was any indication, and you had a lot of time to kill before he returned home. Not that he was your only source of entertainment – though, you’d read the single book he owned three times already.

Your knees crack as you kneel down in front of the cupboard the TV was sitting on, the wooden doors creaking as they open. The shelves are mostly empty – a few older remotes, and a cable channel guide.

Frustrated, you huff and let your shoulders slump, trying to decide what to do next. The TV obviously wasn’t planning on cooperating, though there was a cupboard right next to the one you’re searching through that could potentially hold the answer.

Uvogin’s rules distantly float through your mind, his gruff voice replaying in perfect clarity. Third, don’t go digging through my shit. Glancing back up the clock, you bite your lip. You had time, because while he was massive and huge and scary, there was no way he could get all his errands done in just thirty minutes.

With a deep breath, you move over to the other cabinet, letting your fingers curl around the knob. The doors don’t creak when they open, and immediately you’re scanning the shelves. These ones are full – with boxes, each labeled with a date on them. Cocking a brow, you examine the dates. January 4th – January 25th, April 29th – May 7th, and so on.

Intrigued, you slowly slide out one of the boxes, noticing not a single bit of dust is sitting on the cover. He must use this cabinet much more often than the one you’d been searching through previously, as a thick layer of dust had sprung up in your face the moment you opened the cabinet door.

The box itself is light, but you still set it down in front of you, your fingers delicate and careful, too worried that you’ll break something if you press too hard. And then Uvogin would know, surely, especially if he truly used this cabinet that often.

Slowly, you take off the box’s cover, and immediately your brows are scrunching together. What the hell?

When you’d imagined the kind of ‘shit’ Uvogin didn’t want you to snoop through, you hadn’t pegged it to be this. Whatever this was, that is.

It looked like a box full of receipts – tons of pieces of paper, all in weird sizes or shapes that looked like they were ripped out of some sort of notebook. The handwriting is messy, the letters all crammed together and difficult to decipher. You pick the paper on top up, turning it this way and that, trying to read the text.

Her: Sorry, I know it’s late, but I need to ask you a quick question.

Them: Yeah? What’s up?

Her: Do you think he’s alright? Chris, I mean – he hasn’t called me back for a few days, and I’m worried about him.

Them: You know Chris, it always takes him a while to respond. I wouldn’t worry, he’s just unpredictable.

Her: Yeah, I guess…

[6 second pause]

Them: Go to sleep, it’s late. You’ve got work in the morning, right?

Her: Yeah, I do. Okay, okay, I’m getting into bed now. Goodnight.

Them: Goodnight, call me when you hear back from him.

Her: Okay.

What was this? The ambiguity of it all confused you – who was her? Them? Chris?

You furrowed your brows, confusion sitting in your gut alongside a strange feeling. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled up, and a small pang of unease bolted through you.

Setting the piece of paper back into the bin, you picked up another one. This one was shorter, more to the point.

Her: Are we still on for Friday night?

Them: Yeah! Freddy’s, nine o’clock sharp. I’m buying, remember.

Her: You always say that, and you always get too shit faced to pay. Liar!

Them: Hey, I just know how to have fun! You could learn how to do that, you know.

Her: Yeah yeah, okay, I’ll see you later.

Your fingers are shaking as you finish reading the small, triangular slip of paper. Your lips are slightly parted, brows still crunched together. Something about the interaction between Her and Them felt oddly familiar – like something you’d heard before.

And the mention of Freddy’s. That’d been the name of a bar you frequented often with your friends, back before everything had gone to shit with Stacy.

Unnerved, you set the piece of paper back in the box and slide the box into its place on the shelf, running your eyes back over the listed date. August 28th – September 16th. One of your best friend’s birthdays was in that range.

Wiping your palms on your thighs, you try to calm the pounding of your heart. Something feels off, wrong in a way you can’t quite place. Surely, Freddy’s is a common enough name; it doesn’t necessarily mean your favorite bar. Plus, even if it does mean that particular bar, who knew who these people were. You surely don’t - who the hell is Chris?

Wanting to put some distance between you and the cabinet, you get to your feet again and close it, wandering away into the little hallway connecting the living space, bathroom and two bedrooms. Cupping some water in your hands from the bathroom sink, you splash your face, letting the cold wash over your skin. Closing your eyes, you try to calm down. It doesn’t mean anything – how could it? You’re probably just all shaken up after seeing Stacy and her freaky captor. Nobunaga disturbed you, you can’t deny it.

Sighing, you open your eyes, wiping your face with your towel. (Uvogin had been kind enough to give you one designated as your own, saving you from the horrible fate of having you dry your body with a towel that he’d already used.) Though you notice with a small start that the towel is wet, despite you not having showered recently. Odd.

As you turn to leave the room, you notice a shirt sitting piled up in the corner. It was black, and surely not your own – holding it up, it looked big enough to dwarf you. Must be Uvogin’s, then.

His bedroom is across from your own, and while you haven’t been inside it yet, it feels wrong to just leave his shirt on the floor, where it could get dirty and maybe even moldy. Besides, doing a little cleaning would keep you occupied – both from boredom, and from contemplating those weird slips of paper further.

You slowly open the door, immediately getting hit with a wave of musk. Uvogin normally smelled decent, but the scent in here is strong enough to make you wince a bit, the overwhelming stench of sweat, mint, and male making you a bit nauseous. To your surprise, the room is spotless – a very, very large bed sits floated in the middle, a navy and black flannel comforter covering the top while a few large, puffy pillows sit at attention at the head. A few pairs of boots are lined up in the corner, and a single picture looks to be taped up on the wall above them. Curiously, you step forward, moving towards the photo.

Uvogin had told you very little about himself – only that he worked as a contractor, of sorts, and that he didn’t have too many friends, so you wouldn’t have to worry about visitors. But now that you’re looking at the photo, you’re wondering if maybe that last statement hadn’t been so true – the photo is of a dozen or so people, all posing for the camera with various degrees of a smile on their face. Uvogin’s in the back, on the left side, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man, his blue eyes in a wink and holding up his thumb. Uvogin’s smiling, and as you scan the photo, you stop when you hit Nobunaga, who’s seated in the front row next to a woman with big glasses and a modified cross necklace. Everyone looks happy, and briefly you wonder whether Uvogin considers these people friends. He must, if Nobunaga’s present – an odd sort of satisfaction worms its way into your chest at the thought. You don’t like Uvogin, surely not – but still, everyone needs friends, right? Even kidnappers.

God, you really are starting to develop Stockholm Syndrome.

Shaking your head to try and clear the thoughts, you approach his closet and snag a hanger, trying to hang up the shirt you’re holding in your arms. The thing is tall, and as you try to get the hanger’s hook to wrap over the metal bar, your eyes fall to the side, noticing something out of the corner of your vision.

It’s a soft pink, and you cock a brow. Uvogin? Owning something pink?

Eventually, and with a soft grunt, you get the hanger to successfully sit onto the bar, and immediately you’re investigating the pink thing. This goes directly against his rules, you know – you’re quite literally snooping, but hopefully he’d still be out for longer. Besides, even if he comes back, you could just tell him you’re putting away his shirt, and maybe he wouldn’t call you on your half-lie.

Whatever the thing is, it’s wedged pretty far back in the closet – you’d only managed to catch a brief glimpse of it, and for good reason. There’s a storage container in the back of the closet, an organizer of sorts with some compartments that all seem to be stuffed full. It’s hard to see, the overhead light dim to begin with and not penetrating too deeply into the dark closet, but you’re able to fish out the pink fabric soon enough.

It's lace, you realize, your curiosity only doubling. That same pin-prickly feeling is back, and as you slowly flatten out the cloth, your breath catches.

It’s a thong. Pink and lacy, with a bow decorating the back, right over the tailbone.

But more than that, the thong looks familiar. There’s a thread pulled on the front right side, and a stain on the fabric at the very bottom, looking awfully similar to the color your own discharge makes once it’s been washed.

Your fingers are shaking again, and you stumble back a bit, the back of your knees catching onto the bed so that you fall back and land on your ass, too busy staring at the cloth in your hands to bother trying to situate yourself.

These panties are yours.

You’re sure of it – you know because Stacy bought them for you a few months ago. She’d cheekily handed them to you with a big, gaudy bow on top, a wink sent your way and a demure because I know you’ve got a date tonight, and I also know you haven’t gotten laid in way too long. That was the night you’d been set up on a blind date with a friend’s coworker. He’d been nice, though you hadn’t slept with him, and you hadn’t gone out again after that. He didn’t seem all that interested in you as a romantic pursuit, but he was funny, and you’d hoped you could become friends, at least.

And his name was Chris. And he’d gone missing a few days after.

You drop the panties, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

You don’t want to, and you know you shouldn’t, but before you can stop yourself you’re rushing forward to the closet, digging back to that storage compartment and rooting around for anything else you can find. It must be a coincidence; it has to be a coincidence. These can’t be your panties, you must be mistaken – why would Uvogin have these? How could he have these? You’d lost them in the laundry a while back.

At least, that’s what you’d assumed.

Pulling your hand back, you see you’ve grabbed a few items. They’re smaller, not clothing, but nonetheless incriminating. There’s a chapstick container, with a strange flavor on it that you’ve only seen once, back when you won it in some weird fundraising fair you’d been at for your job. Kiwi banana grape, it said in curling black lettering, and when you pop open the top, you notice it’s almost completely empty.

There’s also a button; it’s black with a strange shape, one you recognize as being from your favorite jacket. It’d fallen off one day, but you’d been too busy walking around the city to have realized. It was a real bummer, because it’d rendered the jacket unwearable because too big a draft would sneak through it.

And lastly, there’s a bandaid – it’s old, you can tell, with a kiddy pattern of some fairies and a dinosaur on it that the nurse had apologized for having to use, telling you it was all they had available at the time. You remembered it – it’d made you laugh that you’d gotten your flu shot and she’d patched it up with a bandaid designed for six year olds, even going so far as to snap a photo and send it in the group chat you kept with your friends.

You feel sick.

Throwing the small items back into the compartment, you rush to the bathroom, barely making it before you’re heaving, all the curry you’d forced down your throat earlier coming right back up.

What the fuck?

Who was Uvogin? Why did he have all of this? How did he have all of this? What did it mean? Your head’s rushing, too many thoughts and implications swimming through your oversaturated mind, and you have just barely enough strength to flush the toilet and stand up, staring at yourself in the mirror.

Stacy’s words rush back to you as you examine your face, seeing your wide eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling with each harsh breath slipping through your lips. He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense – none of it at all. Why would your by-association captor have any of your personal items? Especially personal items you’d lost or thrown away literal months ago, long before you’d ever started staying over at Stacy’s?

You know why, you just don’t want to admit it, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you try to come up with any other possible explanation. No. It can’t be. Stacy’s the one with the creepy stalker, not me.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door’s lock clicking open makes you snap up, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins. Uvogin’s home.

Immediately you’re running to your bed, jumping under the covers and shutting your eyes tightly, praying that Uvogin will think you’re asleep and won’t bother you. You need more time to figure this out – it’s all too much, and while it probably won’t be any easier the longer you wait, you need something.

You can’t look at him yet. You won’t.

“I got your chips! Didn’t know which flavor to choose, so I got three I think you might like. I’m serious, though, you have to share. I’m an animal, and I will steal your food.” He laughs at that, and you hear him set down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Your eyes are still closed so tightly that it hurts, and you ball your fists up in the blankets as hard as you can. You’d curled up into a fetal position, and you force yourself to stay still as you hear his loud footsteps coming down the hall.

He calls your name, peeking his head into every room he passes. Soon he sees you in your bed, and although you look a little stiff, his shoulders immediately lose their tension. A smile flits across his lips, and he slowly, quietly shuts the door, retreating back to his own room.

You sigh, peeling open your eyes and trying to get your breathing under control. You’d been holding your breath, and now that he’s actually home in the apartment, it’s difficult to not let yourself panic.

It becomes much, much more difficult when you hear a noise come from his bedroom, though. What the hell’s this?

There’s a muffled curse, and your blood runs cold as quick, heavy footsteps lead right up to your door. He swings it open and your eyes fly shut, trying desperately in vain to appear like you’re still sleeping.

“Wake the fuck up.” He says, and immediately you open your eyes, your fear too strong to ignore. He’s holding the pink panties in his hands, and you realize with a small burst of terror that in your haste to get to the bathroom, you’d left them on the floor. In his room. Right where he can see that they’ve been moved.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"I only have three rules. What are they?” He barks, and you’re trying to curl up even smaller, hoping his promise of not hurting you will still ring true. Though, he’s lied about pretty much everything else – how do you know if that part wasn’t all a lie, too?

“No hurting myself, no escaping, and no – no snooping.” You whisper, and Uvogin bares his teeth.

“I’ve been good to you – patient, something that takes a hell of a lot of effort for me. And what do you do in return? You go and do one of the very few things I’ve forbidden.” He looks impossibly tall right now, towering over you with those muscles, the panties looking downright tiny between his monstrous fingers. “Tell me why. Explain to me why the hell you were snooping through my closet.”

You shut your eyes again, too scared to look at him. “I was putting away a shirt you left in the bathroom. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did it, please don’t hurt me, please –“

He interrupts you with a huff, and you tense up, waiting for some blow to land. It doesn’t, though, and after a good thirty seconds, you finally peel an eye open, almost too scared to see what he’s doing.

You don’t expect the small smile that’s sitting on his lips, nor the hand on his hip. He locks his eyes with yours, then sighs. “Well, this is most definitely not the way I wanted you to find out. See, I had this whole plan – Nobunaga came up with it, one of the very few things he’s ever thought of that actually impressed me.”

You’re confused again, but that sick feeling still hasn’t gone away. All you can seem to look at are your panties, wedged in his fist.

“He told me that since you and Stacy were so close, we could cut a deal – kidnap you both at once, get more bang for our buck. There was no way to hide Nobunaga’s feelings for Stacy, sure, but you? Well, you haven’t noticed anyone following you, have you?” Uvogin asks, cocking his head at you and letting his smile get a bit wider.

You quickly shake your head no.

“I’m better at this stuff than he is. He always gets too excited to talk to her, wants to interact and have her lookin’ at him. I get it, I really do. Even now, even with you scared shitless and looking at me like I’m about to kill you, just you acknowledging me is getting me hard as a fucking rock.”

Involuntarily, your eyes dart down to his navel, and with a small, strangled sound of fear, you notice the way there’s a prominent bulge forming in those shorts of his.

He laughs at your change in focus, and steps forward. Hooking a finger under your chin, he smirks down at you. “I’m better at hiding myself, and I was willing to play the long game, content with watching you until the right time came to snatch you up. But when Nobunaga offered, telling me there was a way to get you all to myself and make sure you grew to want me organically? Well, I couldn’t resist, could I?”

You want to tell him he absolutely could’ve, or that you wouldn’t have ‘wanted him organically’, whatever the hell that meant, but your tongue doesn’t seem to be working.

He leans down, face coming closer and closer to yours. “You had no idea, did you? How do you think I knew what kind of mattress to get you? How do you think I knew exactly what to order for you for takeout, even when you were too scared to tell me? How do you think I know what shampoo and conditioner to buy you, or even what kind of fucking cologne you like? Believe me, I’m only wearing this shit for you.”

You’re frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at him.

“Do you get it now, princess? See, Nobunaga doesn’t give two shits about whether you live or die – he’ll get Stacy to do what he wants no matter what. But me? I give a shit.” He’s so close to you that you can smell his breath. It’s minty, like he’s just recently brushed his teeth. The cold smell only makes you shiver, fear still tingling up your spine.

“Why?” You whisper, overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

He pauses at that, smirk falling away as he genuinely considers your words. He’s quiet for a moment, before he smiles again, but this time it’s not as predatory – there’s something oddly soft about it, and it makes you feel worse.

“Because you’re perfect. That’s all.” He answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and before you can say anything he’s clambering on the bed next to you. You want to fight him off, to jump up off the bed and run, but you can’t seem to find the energy to. Besides, you’re not delusional enough to think you could beat Uvogin in any sort of physical altercation or chase. And while he still seemed to be adhering to his promise of not hurting you, you didn’t feel like testing the waters.

“So I guess the jig’s up. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out, but I can work with this, too. At least now I don’t have to act like I don’t know you. And now, I don’t have to do all that respectful distance shit – you’re mine now, babe, and now I don’t have to hide it.” He’s grinning again, his teeth looking too sharp, and before you can blink he’s above you, your wrists pinned above your head and his lips inches away from yours.

“So why don’t I show you just how much your attention the last week’s been affecting me?” His voice is low, sultry, and makes you gulp. He presses his face into your neck, deeply inhaling and groaning. “I promise I can make you feel good… I’ll tell you my last rule, okay?”

You’re frozen, but when he pulls back to glare at you, you shakily mutter out an ‘okay’.

His grin is wolfish, predatory, scary. “Rule number four is no running away from me, even if that cute little body of yours can’t take anymore. Got it?”

You nod.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #_lee's fics #_lee writes for ramwrites #_uvogin #_hxh

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naturecalls111 · 4 days

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CYOA: Zoro's Guide To Romance [ZOSAN]

PART 1

I wanted to try out a Choose Your Own Adventure fic, as some of my favourite fics have followed this sort of format, and it helps me write with lower-stakes in this short, Tumblr post format :) I will create a master post for this once I have enough parts to collate.

The simple premise is that Zoro attempts to be more romantic with Sanji – whatever that means, by whatever means.

~~~

Zoro’s still trying to get used to it.

It’s hard not to react so violently, at first. Touches and verbiage that are inclined to be antagonistic. Mean. And with Sanji, that sort of instinct comes naturally. Shout, so he can shout back; bite, so he can bite back, and so forth. They’re used to that. It’s what suits them. The only thing they’ve really ever known to expect from each other.

But at some point – and Zoro has no clue when this point came and permeated so seamlessly through the iron walls the both of them had put up – the shouts fizzled into low, private groans, and the biting became intentional – literal – and now they’re here. Zoro taking a nap on the deck, and Sanji waking him up by tapping at his thigh with the sharp toe of his shoe instead of blatantly kicking at him as if he were a—forget it, no comparison needed. Instead of kicking at him as if he were Zoro as he is, in the flesh.

Sanji’s nonchalant. Hands in his pockets and voice in a low mutter when he speaks.

“Come help me put the groceries away.”

“I already did,” Zoro clears his throat, blinking away his bleary vision and focusing them on Sanji. “Did it this morning, remember?”

“I meant arranging them into the pantry,” Sanji says with little inflection, and almost as an afterthought, “And the cupboards. It’s busy work, so come on. Don’t be lazy.”

Zoro’s eyebrows furrow, confused. Sanji had always been vocal about Zoro doing the opposite: staying away from the kitchen, not spreading his germs on the consumables, preventing his ‘unwashed reek’ from overwhelming the room. The usuals. Eye-roll worthy insults that Zoro isn’t even instigated by anymore.

“Why? I don’t know where shit goes. It’s your kitchen.”

It’s almost impressive how quickly Sanji’s expression morphs into something impatient, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing up and down as he grinds his jaw and narrows his eyes, reproaching.

“Whatever,” he huffs, and drops his cigarette before clicking his tongue, turning away. “Don’t help, then.”

No, wait, come back—ah, well. Sanji’s already too far to reach, so Zoro resigns to closing his eyes again, arms crossed in the perfect nap position and prepared to fall into a comfortable sleep once more. And when he wakes up, Sanji will have likely already prepared second lunch, or first dinner. Zoro smiles at the thought. His favourite things, food, booze, and Sanji, all in one place.

And if Sanji’s up for it, after eating he might even be able to sneak in his other favourite thing. Fighting. And then oral sex. In no particular order.

“You know, Zoro,” Robin’s voice chimes softly, and Zoro cracks an eye open in her direction. She’s tanning on the sunlounger, completely at ease. “Sanji’s romanticism isn’t always so performative.”

Whatever that means. As if Zoro doesn’t know who he’s dating.

“Yeah, I know, thanks.” He closes his eyes and shuffles, letting the conversation rest.

“Are you sure?”

Zoro’s head whips towards Robin. “What? Yeah, ‘course I know,” he says. “We’re together. Obviously, I know. Who do you think bears the brunt of every time he goes gaga over some random girl? Over you and Nami.”

“Going gaga and anticipating sentiment from a partner are two separate things,” Robin says. There’s something implicit in her tone, despite her physical indifference. It puts Zoro on the defensive; none of this is Robin’s business, really. Him and Sanji are fine the way they are.

“Right,” Zoro snorts, hoping he comes across offhanded. “Guess you can go and tell him that, then.”

There’s a moment of silence, peaceful silence that Zoro can finally close his eyes to, before Robin decides to speak again.

“I think he already knows.”

Pfft. Yeah.

Whatever.

~~~

(Happy to consider things in tags/replies if it seems people (or me, lol) take a liking to the suggestion!)

#one piece #cyoa #cyoa: zgtr #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro

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lacryem · 4 days

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— A surprisingly long and in depth look about symbolism in the recent G-Fantasy cover by Yana Toboso ✦

Including references, flower language, how to decode the meaning of flowers, and a little too much brainrot. As well my personal interpretation drawn from all the sources I looked at. And of course what all of means (and maybe hints at?) for Sebastian and Ciel… and maybe even Sebaciel?

Originally posted as a twitter thread, but threads suck and I forgot a couple things. so here now.

Disclaimer :

I don’t know FOR SURE that all these things were directly referenced by Yana when creating this art. But being a fan of her work for over a decade I've become familiar with her use of symbolism and reference, and believe myself to have a good eye for it at this point! I'm also pretty familiar with the use of flower language, including different languages, due to having been involved in a project about it and having to read wayyy too much about this.

Some of it also includes my own personal interpretation, but the meanings and info I based myself off of ARE factual. I think I made it pretty clear when referencing my personal interpretation. You're welcome to reach your own interpretation based off of the stuff provided!

And lastly, I'm not a sebaciel shipper. I'm not an anti (the complete opposite, actually) and have nothing against the ship, I like the narrative around them and how they're written but I don’t actively ship them romantically or sexually. So I'd say this is actually a pretty unbiased interpretation. Personal taste is one thing, but I don’t deny the author's intention and whats written in front of me! That is what this post is about.

Kuroshitsuji takes place in the Victorian period (1837~1901) in 1889.

The following are both important Victorian books on the language of flowers that I will be basing myself off of.

Language of Flowers by Greenaway Kate (1884), and The Language of flowers: An Alphabet of Floral Emblems (1857).

(Also, I’m treating Ciel’s rose as a deep red rose. Which is a bit different than red roses. But I am adding some relevant information about roses in general, anyway.

Now, on what they say about these flowers.

Deep rose, meaning "bashful shame". White lily, meaning "Purity and sweetness."

— The White Lily

Most people assume that the lily refers to Ciel's purity, and that’s a fair assumption. But I disagree.

Firstly, the one holding the lily is Sebastian. Holding it on his right hand, tilted towards the right. However what's relevant here is the VIEWER. From the viewer's POV he's holding it to the left. Note he also holds the scissors on his left hand, where he bears HIS contract seal.

How you hold a flower, what position you give it to someone in, changes the meaning of the flower. These context clues are very important. It tells us that 'purity and sweetness' doesn’t refer to Ciel, but actually refers to Sebastian (…sorta).

This may be a little confusing. Purity and sweetness, Sebastian?! I know, I know. bear with me.

These books provide poems to help us understand how you may interpret the intended meaning. The lily poem is about enduring trials out of love because of the purity and sweetness he sees in his lover's eyes and soul. I believe Yana directly references the poems I will include in this post in her new artwork.

— My Interpretation

the meaning of Sebastian's lily is:

"I do all out of love for the sweetness and purity within you."

Him holding it to the contact seal and cutting the flower could stand for him destroying this sentiment (affection within himself) that has arisen in him as a result of their contract by destroying the sweetness and purity—the source of it—within Ciel (consuming his soul).

Note: This is debatable, as 'reversed' almost always means upside down. But if you consider the lily facing away from the viewer as reversed then it could mean "impurity and bitterness" which fits pretty well with Ciel, and it being held against the contract seal which is a physical representation of his impurity, brought on by his bitterness.

— The Deep Red Rose

There something I find very interesting. The rose is in a teacup, standing in for tea (I think there's even tea alongside it in the cup.) From Yana herself we know that Sebastian's eyes are a reference to the reddish brown colour of tea.

Like I said, I believe this rose to be a deep red rose, which is a bit more specific than the meaning given to red roses. However I think the poem included for roses in general very much applies here.

I was going to add my thoughts but I found this interpretation that sums it up pretty well if you replace the carpe diem theme with a more "running out of time" or "impending death" theme, which seems to be a more accurate reading for this artwork.

Looking at the rose itself, it has no thorns or leaves.

It is not a youthful rose as its already fully open and losing petals. "No hope, and no fear" fits with the poem, the rose is basically an hourglass referring to Ciel. His fate is unavoidable, but this isn't a deterrent. He's dancing on the ledge.

The deep red rose means 'bashful shame'.

When you compare it to the lily, which is a direct proclamation, the deep red rose is a quiet confession one cannot verbalize.

Debatable, to be fair but given the tie in to Sebastian's eye colour and the fact that he is always the one pouring tea for Ciel, I believe the Sebastian to be the speaker here too, but this time speaking on Ciel's feelings (Hence why he's the one holding it) rather than Sebastian's own.

— My Interpretation

The meaning of the deep red rose Ciel holds, speaking about Ciel's feelings of guardedness, and in response saying:

"Abandon your bashful shame, and let yourself be admired without expectations (hope) or fear"

Sebastian speaks about Ciel's feelings, the deep red rose acknowledges his feelings but they remain unspoken.

The Waller poem is a plead for his beloved to seize the day, for time is short, and allow herself to be loved completely.

Her beauty is one to be appreciated, she is not meant to be a rose unacknowledged (unloved) in the desert.

Regarding 'expectations', I think this is more about rigid ideas of how 'appreciation' or 'admiration, might be shown or received. Sebastian and Ciel's relationship defies normality or 'expectations'. So this, too, would defy expectations a young boy like Ciel, or a traumatised boy like Ciel, may have.

From Yana herself, we know Sebastian's dedication and how highly he holds 'beauty', specifically Ciel's beauty.

The author of the poem proclaims that beauty not appreciated is not beautiful indeeed, and so he calls his beloved to come to him and be appreciated wholly during the invaluable, limited time they have.

We see the deep red rose's petals fall away, in my opinion not only symbolising the withering away of time, but also the crumbling away of this "bashful shame" that Sebastian ascribes to Ciel.

How Sebastian wishes to "appreciate" this beauty is debatable. How he wants to "admire" and "desire" (per the poem) Ciel is rather open ended. Wether it be in a romantic way, a sexual way or by consuming his soul.

However, I don’t think these are mutually exclusive. And consuming Ciel can easily be a metaphor for the former two.

— The Lily and The Rose

The Greeneaway book has this poem which im sure was directly referenced. This poem speaks about the lily and the rose in a direct power struggle and fight for dominance, until they eventually unite and reign as one.

Now when speaking about this "union", you could say it refers to their contract, but I don’t think so.

The contract ties them to each other, but it doesn’t necessarily unite them. So I believe 'unity' to be about the appreciation Sebastian speaks of Ciel opening up to.

"The Lily" and "The Rose" might be interpreted as directly representing Sebastian and Ciel, and the unity that would come from them joining and becoming a truly complimentary pair. I think a power struggle and fight for being the one in control is very accurate way to describe their current dynamic in canon.

It may also be interpreted as "The Lily" and "The Rose" as being representations of their feelings and ideals previously. And then it would represent these two conflicting expressions—a loud unrelenting and destructive devotion, and a guarded, bashful, unspoken reluctance— coming together and turning from conflicting to complimentary.

Or as it tends to be with these things, both!

Either way all of this is expressed under the sense of impending doom created by their circumstances and the contract. So there's a sense of urgency permeating all of it.

Also clear to me is a sense of internal conflictedness coming from Sebastian's message that is usually only hinted at like this, and some people end up overlooking.

Sebastian desires Ciel deeply, but having him would also mean not being able to have him anymore.

Sebastian is torn and that’s why he attempts to cut the root of his wavering feelings represented by the lily.

All of this makes me wonder about what's next, and if we will see these things said more blatantly. Foreshadowing with flower language and references like this, isn't exactly rare for Yana. I wonder if we will see this 'unity' come to be, and what necessary development Sebastian and Ciel will need to undergo to make it possible. As well as what shape it will take.

I also wonder very much about Ciel's perspective in all of this, as this was almost entirely from Sebastian's POV, but I think that's intentional. Ciel has his own goals and a lot on his mind. Sebastian's goal IS Ciel. So I assume he spends a lot more time thinking about Ciel and this kind of thing.

Thank you if you read the whole way through. Like I said before, even though the sources defending it are, my interpretation is not law and you're welcome to reach your own with the things presented.

Links for sources, including free public domain PDFs of the books mentioned are found at the end of my twitter thread.

— Thanks for reading! —

#sebaciel shipper friendly post #kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #sebastian black butler #ciel black butler #sebaciel #please refrain from ship discourse on my post. I don't care if fictional characters upset you. I'm looking at the source material here.

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kingdom-by-the-sea · 1 year

Text

The Not Valentine’s Date

Summary- Mutual pining, an office bet, and baby sitting make for an interesting Valentine’s Day between Spencer and Hotch’s daughter.

Warnings- fluffy fluff

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Hotch’s daughter

Word Count- 2.7k

A/N- This is something I randomly wrote last year after Valentine’s Day but didn’t post cause I felt like I had missed my window. Who knows maybe I’ll write something later this week that I’ll post in a year.

—————-

“Eww,” Emily complained, scrunching up her face in disgust, “Please tell me that none of those lines actually work on real life girls. I don’t understand why guys had to start going around saying stuff like that and ruin Valentine’s day for the rest of us.”

”Woah,” Prentiss stopped Reid mid-explaining, “You are not actually referring to that,” she gestured vaguely in Morgan’s direction, “as poetry.”

Spencer scrunched his face in consideration, “Not in the traditional sense, I suppose. However, in my opinion, some of the best lines of poetry about love have nothing to do with Valentine’s day so using it as the standard might not properly reflect what you’re looking for.”

“Oh really,” Morgan questioned, “And what exactly would you use to woo the ladies on the fourteenth?”

Reid considered the question seriously his fingers tapping to some indiscernible beat as he thought, “‘We loved with a love that was more than love.’”

“What?” Morgan’s reaction was quick and it seemed that everyone else in the group mirrored his sentiment, “Hate to break it to you, pretty boy, but no girl you mention that to is going to have a clue-”

“You quote a man who married his thirteen year-old cousin on love?” Y/N asked suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“They really are a match made in heaven…” Prentiss muttered only loud enough for Morgan to hear, who responded with a chuckle.

Reid’s face darkened several shades of red, “I just mean-”

“It’s fine,” Y/N let out a small laugh, “I’m just teasing. Annabel Lee’s probably my favorite poem. Just sucks that most of the romanticism poets were… just really weird.”

Spencer regained his composure and released an unexpected laugh, “Yeah.”

“Anyone want more coffee, I’m going to get another cup,” Y/N stood and left for the kitchenette after finding there weren’t any takers.

“So close and yet… so far,” Prentiss said once Y/N was out of earshot.

“Seriously, man,” Morgan started, “Just ask her to go to dinner or something already.”

Reid rolled his eyes, “Is this about your bet pool thing again?”

“Not anymore,” Morgan said, “I’ve been out since last month. Somehow I thought New Years would do the trick.”

Prentiss laughed, “You’re doing way better than me. I really thought the hormones would outweigh this nerdy stupidity,” she gestured at Reid’s face, “and said Halloween.”

“Halloween?!” Reid squeaked out before lowering his voice significantly, “There is no way you thought Y/N and I would get together by Halloween of last year.”

The two agents dutifully ignored him and Morgan continued, “Who’s even left at this point? I know Rossi chose St. Patrick’s day for whatever reason.”

“And Hotch said Valentine’s,” Prentiss finished and any air of concern left Reid’s face.

“Well now I know you’re making this up,” he turned back to his work, “There is no way Hotch would bet on his daughter’s love life.”

Prentiss tsked, “Your future father-in-law is going to be very disappointed if you miss this benchmark.”

“Seriously though,” Morgan started again, “Just ask her to hang out. Don’t even call it a date.”

“We hang out all the time though…” Spencer whispered, fiddling with his tie.

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a deal,” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, “Go get her, lover boy.”

Reluctantly, Reid rose from his seat and made his way to the kitchenette. Y/N was busy filling up her mug with the right amount of sugar- that is as much as can fit in the cup- but smiled when she noticed him.

“Did you change your mind? I can grab another mug.”

“What? Oh- no, I’m good,” he glanced over at her searching for the right words, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out on Monday…?”

Y/N’s face lit up at the thought before she scrunched up her nose, “I’d love to but I can’t. I’m actually watching Jack so my dad can go out but maybe this weekend?”

She returned to stirring her coffee not noticing the third person entering the vicinity.

“Or Reid could come over and help you with Jack?” Hotch said, forcing them both to turn suddenly in his direction.

“Oh no,” Y/N began, “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you to waste your Valentine’s Day.”

“No, no. That sounds great,” Spencer smiled at her and her heart seemed to warm as she mirrored his reaction, “Send me the times over the weekend.”

With that Reid walked back to his desk in semi-victory.

“Did Reid just ask you to hangout with him on Valentine’s Day?” Hotch asked with a mock accusatory glance.

“Yeah,” Y/N said absentmindedly, “I mean no- I mean he did but it's not like that. We are just two single adults who enjoy each other’s company and not having to feel lonely on a day devoted to love.”

“Y/N, what exactly do you call it when two single adults meet up on Valentine’s Day to ‘enjoy each other’s company?’” he could barely manage to suppress the smile growing on his face at the teasing.

Her face turned pink, “I’m not sure- but apparently you call it babysitting.”

~~~

As the evening waned on, Y/N was more and more glad for Spencer’s company. Outside of simply enjoying his presence, it helped to have a second person there to reign in some of Jack’s more energetic behavior. However, her appreciation wasn’t enough to keep her from noticing how her heartstrings tugged seeing the way Jack and Spencer both lit each other up with excitement. Spencer was beyond engaging and Y/N finally understood why Henry always seemed to immediately latch onto Spencer at BAU gatherings. It was intoxicating to watch them together and Y/N easily could have lost herself in the moment if it weren’t for the screaming six-year-old running around the house constantly threatening to knock things over. Luckily for Reid, Y/N, and their respective sanities, this level of energy wasn’t sustainable and an eventual crash was inevitable.

He nodded lazily in response, “Can we watch Encanto?” for a brief moment the sparks returned behind his eyes as he mentioned what was quickly becoming his new favorite movie.

“Sure,” Y/N said with a small laugh. This would have to be close to the twentieth time she had seen the movie but for Jack’s sake, it was all worth it.

Jack headed for the stairs and Spencer was quick to follow after him.

“I’ll help him get ready for bed,” he explained, noticing what was apparently a rather obvious expression of confusion and the slight tilt of her head, “You could set up the movie?”

Having your heart flutter this much had to be medically concerning, but there was nothing Y/N could do to stop it as she watched her best friend take her brother’s small hand.

“Okay,” she whispered and was met with a smile that sent her straight back into heart-fluttering territory. No matter how long she knew Spencer, he never stopped surprising her. Considering the effort and detail he put into every other aspect of his life, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would be so attentive with her brother. And yet he still managed to strengthen his hold on her heart with every little action that came as some unexpected surprise to her. In truth, she suspected it was a precautionary measure, if she truly let herself recognize how kind and wonderful Spencer was, she’d be done for in an instant.

All the precautions in the world couldn’t have stopped the back of her mind from spinning stories about him though. Spencer was too gentle and pure to keep the less hardened parts of her soul from imagining what it all could be like if she could indulge if she could step over the line she had drawn in the sand for herself.

Upstairs, it seemed Jack had stumbled upon a small reservoir of energy, taking the time to show Spencer his favorite toys and stuffed animals while Spencer attempted to offer him various pajama set options. Eventually, Jack settled on the set covered with small dogs.

Spencer didn’t mind the push and pull Jack, or other children gave him. There was something so strangely fascinating to him about a mind so free from insecurity and a child’s willingness to simply say what was on their mind. Despite his extensive memory, he couldn’t remember a time he truly felt like that and hoped it was merely a result of the fog around his earliest memories. Every decision he made was coated in consideration and accounted for every possible result. He couldn’t help but wish that his hypervigilance would let up from time to time and leave him free to explore the thoughts, and emotions, that remained.

“You work with my sister,” Jack offered up less as a question and more as a statement.

“Yes, I do,” Spencer responded to the not question.

The boy’s head bobbed in as much seriousness as a six-year-old could muster, “Can you still be friends with someone if you work with them?”

Spencer watched as he stepped away from him and began absentmindedly examining the toys around his room.

“Of course,” Spencer answered, not sure where this line of question was headed, “Your sister and I are very good friends then.”

Jack’s attention swiftly returned to Spencer, “So you like her then?”

“I do like her. She’s smart and cool,” Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly on the boy, “Just like you.”

Jack came closer to him and in what he seemed to think was a hushed voice said, “Did you know that sometimes when people really like they get married…?”

“And then….” he scrunched up his face and whispered, “They make a baby.”

Spencer’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened in what Jack considered to be genuine surprise.

“I know, right?” Jack stepped away and began picking up a blanket and stuffed animal to take downstairs with him, without looking up he added, “Do you think you and Y/N will get married?”

Spencer’s mind went completely blank. None of the dozens of courses he had taken over the years would provide him with any sort of answer that would satisfy Jack. Part of him wanted to say yes and not give any of it another thought but reason quickly squashed that idea. And yet…

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no either. It was far too permanent and left no room for the small bead of hope he hid away in the back of his mind.

“Maybe…” he answered finally, “I don’t really know though…”

Jack pulled the blanket and toy behind him and giggled, “I hope you do!”

Spencer’s stomach did a somersault and he scooped the small boy and his blanket up into his arms before he could notice the strange smile emerging on his face. I do too.

~~~

“I swear that kid is pure energy,” Y/N said, shutting the door behind them and stepping out into the cool night with Spencer.

Y/N pointed a somewhat accusatory finger at him, “And don’t say something like ‘technically we are all energy since we’re made of mass.’’

He rolled his eyes at her with a smile, “I was going to say that while he may have been more energetic than I expected- I had fun hanging out with you guys.”

She couldn’t help the smile that immediately bubbled up to the surface of her lips, “I had fun too. I’m glad I didn’t completely waste your Valentine’s day.”

“Never,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Y/N said when they reached the end of the driveway where Spencer’s car was parked.

His eyes narrowed slightly on her, “What are you doing? How are you getting back to your apartment?”

“Oh I have an uber coming in a little bit. I”m just going to wait here until they get here.”

“You want me to leave you here on the side of the road and drive away?” he questioned.

“No,” Y/N corrected, “I want you to leave me at the end of my dad’s driveway.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Spencer said definitively, “I’ll drive you or we could go back to my apartment and watch awful romcoms and start working on the mound of candy Rossi and Garcia got us.”

She blinked at him, “Really?”

“Yeah,” his movement suddenly became awkward and choppy, “I mean you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” Y/N smiled, “I’m just surprised. You spent the past five hours with me and my hyperactive brother and you want to hang out more?”

“I always want to spend time with you,” he said shyly.

“Sometimes I just forget that you’re you, Spence,” Y/N shook her head slightly and took a step closer to him.

“I hope that’s not a bad thing,” his eyes were slightly wider than usual.

“No, not at all. It’s the best thing actually,” Y/N smiled up at him, “And just so you know, I’d gladly spend every moment of every day with you.”

He looked down at her, not able to suppress the smile growing on his face.

“You know,” Spencer said, clearing his throat slightly, “Jack said something to me earlier and I didn’t know how to respond to him.”

“Oh gosh…” her voice faded into a slight chuckle.

“He was asking me all these questions about you. Like if we were friends and if I thought you were nice,” Spencer watched as Y/N glanced up at him, “I said yes to both of those… but then- then he asked if we were going to get married.”

Y/N’s lips let out a silent “oh.”

She blinked and glanced down at the ground momentarily, “What did you tell him?”

He scratched absently at the side of his head, “Well I wasn’t sure what to say so I told him maybe?”

Y/N’s face broke into a smile and near laugh, “You told him ‘maybe?’”

“I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, no,” she let out the rest of the laugh, “I just think we should go on a date before you start promising these kinds of things to my brother.”

Spencer blinked and swallowed before looking down at the ground, “Would you have said yes if I asked you out?”

“Yeah,” a soft smile settled on her lips, “I mean of course. Don’t tell Jack but you’re kind of my favorite person in the world.”

“Really?” his eyes settled on hers.

“What? Did you think I’d say no?” Y/N asked with genuine concern.

“I don’t know I just thought that it would make things difficult since we work together and-”

“Spence, hey, hey, stop it!” she said with a slight laugh.

A beat passed where she just looked at him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Y/N smiled, “I just want to remember the moment right before I kiss you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly.

“Is that okay?”

He nodded not sure if she was referring to the moment or the kiss but it didn’t matter either way. She smiled up at him again, looking into his eyes and her hands moved up till they met behind his neck. After inhaling slightly, Y/N perched on her toes and gently pulled Spencer’s face down until their lips met each other.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #comfort fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagines

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honey-sweet-hiraeth · 2 years

Text

To Hate You Back (N.R.)

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has hated you since you met... Eventually you try to return the sentiment. Then one day with a lie, some self endangerment and a bit of blood loss, you begin to understand each other better.

Warnings: SMUT (18+) Minors DNI, Oral (r giving), Fingering (r giving), very soft, like really soft at the end, Stab Wound, Blood, Stitches, Nat Talks About Getting Shot, Scar (singular), A Little Angsty, R is a Little Shit (sorta), So is Tony (sorta), Enemies to Lovers??? (I think), absolutely awful flirting with a dangerous angry assassin lady. ALSO- a really weird sparring scene (yes it needs a warning)

Words: About 8,200

A/n: Hey look! I wrote something. I hate that it has taken me so long to write and finish anything and I'm so sorry about that. I'm trying, I promise I am. I have no clue when I'll continue/finish Breathe. It'll happen one day, maybe. Anywho- I'm still writing. Annnnd now I've written smut!! This is my first time posting smut so I uh- I hope you like it.

Clint was the first to hear of Natasha's distaste for the agent she'd been going on missions with lately, then it was Steve, then Wanda, then Tony, pretty soon everyone knew.

Which was exactly why they all seemed so shocked that you were so.... Likeable.

You were intelligent, Kind and honest. Not to mention funny, passionate and skilled. You didn't take yourself too seriously and quite frankly it was hard to tell you were the agent that Fury held in such high regard.

With the way Fury spoke so highly of you and the way Natasha complained, they were expecting someone more arrogant and self absorbed. To be fair, being called Fury's prodigy agent was bound to go to anybody's head.

But you were pretty much the opposite of what the Avengers had been led to believe.

May 27th-

When Fury found out about Natasha's feelings toward you, he laughed and immediately informed you that you would be joining the Avengers.

"Ex-excuse me?” Your eyes widened and you stumbled back.

"You heard me y/l/n" Fury returned to his regular more rigid demeanor, "Starting tomorrow you're an Avenger. We'll be moving your things to the compound shortly."

"Sir I don't think you understand" You sighed "Romanoff is going to kill me"

"Not if you kill her first" He gave you a look and you raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Are you joking?" You asked incredulously and Fury chuckled roughly under his breath.

"Agent Romanoff will learn to like you" He shrugged "Unfortunately for both of you, you work well together so you'll be working together a lot anyway. She'll have plenty of opportunities to get used to you"

"I don't think getting used to me will solve anything" You groaned and the look Fury gave you should have placated you, but given your more... Complicated relationship with the man. You were rather used to it.

"Agent y/l/n" He spoke professionally but the undertone of his voice was akin to begging. "I know you'll find a way to make it work. Just get out of my office and start packing"

June 18th-

"I'm going to kill her" Natasha growled as she made her way into Clint's room and flopped on his bed where he was sitting, reading a file.

"She's not that bad" Clint shrugged, earning a deadly glare from the redhead that he seemed to miss. "What'd she do this time?"

"You should've seen it" Nat rolled her eyes "She and Wanda were in the kitchen 'talking' If you could even call it that."

Clint raised an eyebrow at the mention of the other redhead. He had to admit he felt sort of protective of Wanda, ever since she lost Pietro.

"Go on" He urged and Natasha groaned.

"They were all over each other Clint!" She threw her hands around rapidly "y/l/n practically had her hand down Wanda's pants"

Clint threw his head back in a laugh. Of all the things you did that seemed to piss Natasha off, your banter with the others was the one he always heard about.

"That's not even close to the truth now is it?" Clint smirked and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"They were making sandwiches and bumping into each other" Tony appeared in the doorway with a smirk. "Then they were joking about their similar eating habits."

"Ugh" Natasha rolled over and sighed "She's a bigger flirt than you are Stark, and it's ridiculous"

"Maybe you should ask her out." Tony laughed as Natasha threw him a glare.

"Why the hell would I do that?" The redhead nearly hissed at the idea.

"With the way she takes your attitude toward her with so much humor, I would bet she likes you, and you seem pretty obsessed with her" Tony shrugged and smirked as he got the reaction he was looking for.

"I am not!" Natasha sat up defensively.

"All I'm saying is you're a little too focused on her flirting habits for someone who isn't at least a little bit attracted to her" Tony chuckled as Nat scoffed, turning away from him. "Don't be embarrassed Nat, Have you seen her? You'd be an idiot to not wanna bang her. Hell I would do it"

"Shut up" Natasha snapped and pushed past him through the doorway, effectively ending the conversation.

July 22nd-

You panted lightly as Steve made another move, swinging his fist in your direction, only hitting air as you darted around him. You landed a hard jab to his ribs and he turned, trying to grab your wrist as you swung at him.

His success was short lived as you flipped him on his back with a surprising amount of force. The sound of his back hitting the mat along with the groan that followed echoed through the empty training room.

"Give up yet, Rogers?" You smirked and he nodded decisively, causing you to immediately switch from your fighting stance to a more relaxed state as you helped him up.

"You're a really good fighter" He smiled as you waved him off "No really, you're not even enhanced as far as we know and the only other person who can take me down like that is Nat"

At the mention of her name you tensed again and nodded stiffly.

"Cool" You gave Steve a tight smile and a high five before you made your way to the punching bags, secretly thankful that Steve hadn't followed you and instead headed in the opposite direction, toward the treadmills.

You worked out in silence for a while when the doors to the training room opened, catching your attention. At the sight of the cold, always angry redhead, you groaned.

Of course it had to be Natasha. You couldn't go half a day without seeing her and having some sort of tense, semi aggressive interaction.

Steve smiled at you with a mischief you didn't recognize on the man before turning to Nat.

"Feel like sparring?" He grinned and Nat raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes actually" She smiled "Feel like getting your ass handed to you?"

"Not really" Steve matched her smirk. "Y/n already took me down twice this morning. I bet you two are well matched for sparring. And she seems like she'd be down to fight you."

Natasha glared at Steve as you looked up in shock.

"Alright" Natasha turned to you with a scowl. "I'd never miss an opportunity to beat up y/l/n"

"You're too kind" You rolled your eyes and made your way to the mats, getting ready for what you were sure was going to be the beating of your lifetime.

Natasha met you at the mats and matched your position before darting forward with no warning to land a blow to your jaw. You took a few steps back in shock and scoffed.

"I knew you liked it rough Romanoff but I didn't know you liked it dirty too" You chuckled before dodging her attempt to knock you down, spinning out of her reach before stepping behind her and locking your arm over the base of her neck, applying light pressure. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to choke her lightly and tell her you could hurt her if you wanted to.

Your other hand rested on her hip and you didn't miss the way she squirmed under your touch. It wasn't the discomfort of hatred you were expecting to see in her body language. Quite the opposite actually.

"Do-" Your mouth dropped open before a smirk took over your features. "Do you like that, Romanoff?"

You squeezed her hip and added more pressure to her throat, and bit your lip when you heard Natasha's breathing hitch before she quickly regained her focus and flipped you on your back, making you gasp for air as she straddled your stomach, pinning your hands above your head.

Natasha took a moment to appreciate how shocked you looked by the way she'd thrown you down. You were breathing heavily and your eyes were closed tight as you tried to regain your composure. She scolded herself when her mind wandered briefly to a more enjoyable activity that could be done in that position and pulled her focus back to fighting you.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion when you smirked up at her and she was about to ask what you were so smug about when she gasped as you arched your back suddenly in order to flip the two of you over.

'Maybe Tony was right', some god awful part of her brain thought before she quickly dismissed the idea, trying to ignore the butterflies she felt as she noticed the position she was now in.

Your hands on her wrists, her legs around your waist, and her back pressed firmly to the mat by the weight of your body that was settled between her thighs.

You smirked down at her and you both seemed to just sit there forever. Your eyes involuntarily dropped to Natasha's lips as her gaze fell to yours. You were both breathing heavily and neither of you could tell if it was due to the sparring or the tension that had thickened in the air.

"Uh" Steve's voice immediately knocked you both out of your trance as you pulled yourself off of Natasha and she sat up on the mat. "I think it's safe to say you could both hold your own against each other"

Steve shuffled awkwardly and Natasha scoffed.

"Whatever, she got lucky, I was distracted" Natasha snapped and you smirked.

"What exactly was distracting you Natasha?" You asked, drawing out the syllables of her name.

Natasha rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Nothing special, that much is for sure" She raised an eyebrow as she spoke pointedly, unknowingly giving you the exact answer you wanted.

"Chto by vy ni govorili, malyshka. (Whatever you say babygirl)" You chuckled as her head snapped toward you at how fluent her native language sounded coming from you. "Y'know I'm starting to think you secretly like me"

"In your dreams" Natasha scoffed as you got up off the mat, heading to the exit, turning to stare the redhead directly in the eyes.

"Only the dirty ones" You winked and ducked out the door before she could react, running down the hallway in fear of being chased, or Steve following you out there to lecture you about teasing the 'Great Black Widow' like that.

Steve did not follow you however, opting to instead burst into laughter at the sight of a very flustered Natasha Romanoff.

"I didn't know you could blush Nat '' He chuckled, earning a not-so-kind look from the redhead.

"I don't know what you're talking about '' She snapped and pushed herself off the ground before stomping out of the room, no longer in the mood for her workout.

August 4th-

You rushed off the Quinjet and into the Compound, moving as fast as your legs would carry you. An angry- no - Livid Natasha right on your heels.

"Help!" You yelped and rushed behind a very confused and very concerned Steve and Wanda.

"Y/l/n!" Natasha growled from across the room as she slowed down, eyeing you like a predator would it's annoyingly evasive prey. "I'm going to take you down, drag you out of here and break you with my bare hands."

You couldn't help the smirk that took over your face as you raised an eyebrow.

"Say that again, that sounded good" You bit your lip at the glare the assassin sent your way. You had to admit, it was kind of hot.

Wanda and Steve shared a look as if to say 'are they always that flirty?' before both of them stepped to the side, leaving you open for Natasha to rush at you.

"Traitors! " You yelped and ran around the counter to avoid the Black Widow's wrath.

"Stop running so I can kill you!" Natasha growled and you yelped again as you narrowly avoided her grip.

"While getting brutally murdered by you would be a lovely way to go" You smirked "I'm gonna keep running"

With that you rushed out of the room and down the hall, trying to get to your room so you could lock Natasha out before she got to you.

Just before you reached the safety of your room, a hand wrapped around your wrist, spinning you around as Natasha pinned you against the wall.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Natasha hissed under her breath and your breathing hitched as you noticed just how close she was. "I could've handled that, you didn't need to rush in there half cocked"

"I was thinking you were surrounded by HYDRA agents, and while I'm sure that if the roles were reversed you'd grab some popcorn and enjoy the show, I personally didn't want to watch you get your ass beat" You snapped and Natasha's eyes widened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She sounded confused, which only made you angrier. It was like every time Natasha had said something snarky about you had built up and all the pent up frustration finally came to a head.

"It means that while you might be content to hate me all your life- some stupid little part of me likes you, and I like you enough to notice when you're overwhelmed, whether or not you'll let go of your pride and admit it." Your voice raised a little and Natasha stepped back, making room for you to step forward, taking your turn to invade her personal space. "It means that I care about you enough to step in and help, despite the fact that you've done nothing but hate on me and make me second guess myself, since the moment we met."

You were inches apart and Natasha was searching your eyes with an unreadable expression. Your breathing was slow but your heart was beating faster than ever before, so hard you could feel your pulse in every individual nerve in your body.

"You think I'm a bitch" It wasn't a question and you hated that Natasha seemed hurt about it.

"I don't think you're a bitch" You softened for a moment before starting to slowly work yourself up again. "At first I thought it was a defense mechanism, maybe you were just rough around the edges or something because you didn't like new people. Hell, assassin's are trained not to like new people. Then I thought maybe you didn't want to catch yourself making friends with anyone so you were acting up to keep me at arm's length. Then Tony tried to tell me you were acting out because you wanted to fuck me, and i thought maybe you were upset cause Tony kept insisting we need to hook up. Now i don't know- Now i just think you hate me"

Natasha stared up at you in shock. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she searched for something to say.

"I- I don't-'' She tried to speak but you cut her off.

"And let me tell you, I've been trying so hard not to take it personally, I thought of everything that could have happened to make you angry with me and how to fix it. I have kept trying to talk to you and be nice but I can't handle it anymore. Okay? I give up." You were almost whispering at this point, your body so tense one could swear you were made of stone, a startling contrast to your usual mellow state of existence.

Natasha had been reduced to silence as you kept ranting onward, sounding defeated. A longing, almost sad look on her face.

"I stopped trying to talk to you and started to avoid you and you seemed to seek me out just to antagonize me and I've tried taking it in stride. Tried giving you time to warm up to me. I'm starting to think my only option is to hate you back. Is- is that what you want?" You kept your face as neutral as possible to avoid her seeing just how upset you really were.

"Y/n..." Natasha reached hesitantly out to take your hand but you flinched away.

"Don't patronize me Romanoff" You sighed and stared into her guilty eyes.

"I-" Natasha paused, unsure of how to move forward.

"It's fine" You barely spoke at all, whispering more to yourself than to the redhead in front of you.

You turned around and walked into your room with a long drawn out sigh. You were tired and angry and you desperately wanted a shower so you could take a nap and maybe distract yourself from the way you were reeling from your pent up emotions.

September 16th.... Six Long Weeks Later-

You sighed softly as you turned the shower on and stepped under the stream of hot water that nearly scalded your skin. You didn't mind the pain though. You embraced it, knowing it would help relax your tense, achy muscles.

You had been taking missions left and right in order to avoid talking about anything but work with Natasha, you didn't want to fight with her again and you were starting to get fed up with the way she kept staring you down with guilt written over her features.

She was the one that started this, she didn't get to feel bad now.

You took your time, letting yourself relax a little before getting out of the shower nearly an hour later, wrapping your towel around your body and stepping out of the bathroom.

"What in the motherfuck-" You jumped, hand on your chest, completely startled by the presence waiting for you. Sitting on your bed and leaning against the wall. "The hell are you doing here?"

Natasha's eyes moved to meet yours and she couldn't help but notice that your towel only went down about a quarter of your thighs. She had to fight herself not to stare at the long stretch of your legs that were uncovered.

It took a few moments before you realized her eyes were a little unfocused, her breathing was unsteady and there was a dark red spot taking over the side of her stomach, staining her grey tank top. She looked a little beaten up and battered, causing you to eye her suspiciously.

"Why are you bleeding in my bedroom?" You raised an eyebrow and she glanced around your room, avoiding eye contact.

"I went to check out a little HYDRA facility, it was supposed to be empty" She admitted neutrally but you noticed the slight shake to her voice. "I wasn't really paying attention. An agent saw me and caught me off guard. It was stupid but i didn't hear him coming, i was a little too in my head."

"The great Natasha Romanoff made a mistake?" You chuckled, enjoying the way she squirmed in your presence. "That doesn't explain why you're here and not in the Med Bay with Bruce"

"Bruce isn't here, you're the only other one that can give stitches that actually look decent and wont scar too much." Natasha glanced up at you and to you it seemed like she felt uncomfortable asking you any favors.

You walked into your closet and put on some denim shorts and an oversized hoodie, feeling a little awkward about standing there in just a towel.

When you got back, you took a moment to enjoy the new dynamic. For once it felt like you actually had the upper hand. Then you noticed the way Natasha was swaying from blood loss and your smugness immediately gave way to worry.

You rushed back into your bathroom and grabbed your sewing kit and some antiseptic before moving into the room and in front of Natasha, grabbing the hem of her shirt and tugging it up lightly.

"Take this off" You ordered and she glared up at you.

"Excuse me?" Her voice lowered dangerously and you chuckled softly.

"If I'm giving you stitches I need to be able to get to your wound." You explained and the redhead nodded slowly in apprehension. You tugged at her shirt again. "Come on tough chick, shirt off and then i need you to lay down on the bed"

You tried not to stare as you helped Natasha slowly pull her top over her head. The sight of her newly exposed skin almost made you dizzy. If it weren't for the gaping stab wound on her stomach the sight would've been heaven.

Natasha slowly laid back on the bed, wincing as she moved and you pulled your chair from your desk over to the bed, sitting down and inspecting the damage.

"Holy shit, what the hell did he stab you with, a katana?!" You gently cleaned the blood from her skin, not missing the way she seemed to relax under your touch, despite you actively prodding at her freshly stabbed torso.

"Some sort of dagger, definitely wasn't your average knife" Natasha gasped as you poured your antiseptic over her stomach. Her back arched and you gently pressed her body back into the mattress with your hand on the side of her ribs. Her breathing hitched and she swallowed thickly.

"Okay, stop wiggling, I'm gonna start." You breathed out slowly before finally pressing the needle through her skin.

Natasha hissed and bit her lip, her body was tense and you paused as she got used to the sting of your sewing needle.

After a few moments she let out a sigh and closed her eyes, waving for you to continue.

"Are you okay?" You nearly whispered after a long silence while you stitched her up with the utmost care.

"Define okay," Natasha grunted as the needle pierced her skin again. "Physically, Mentally or Emotionally?"

"All of the above?" You smiled softly at Natasha, glancing at her before focusing back on the task at hand.

"Why do you care?" Natasha grumbled and you felt a pang of guilt at her tone. "You hate me, remember?"

"Hating you is a lot harder than it should be" You were slightly surprised at how gentle and sincere you sounded at the moment. Natasha was staring at you with an unreadable expression and you cleared your throat awkwardly as you finished stitching her up. "Stay here, i'm gonna find some cream and bandages. I don't want to see any signs that you've moved when I get back"

"What'll you do if I move?" You gave Natasha a stern look as you stood, making her raise an eyebrow in challenge.

"Considering how intense that stab wound is, the pain from moving would be punishment enough" You sighed and left the room, jogging to the med bay determined to get the things you needed and get back as fast as possible.

"Hey Bruce" You greeted softly as you sped through the med bay to the medical storage, locating the bandages and numbing cream and grabbing them before the realization that Bruce was there even hit.

"Hold on" You backpedaled out of the storage area and back to Bruce. "How long have you been here?"

"All day" Bruce made a face "Why?"

"No reason" You smirked softly and made your way out of the med bay, unable to keep your smile from growing into a huge grin as you headed down the hall.

You took a moment to school your features before stepping back into your room.

"Good news, I ran into Bruce so I can get you out of here and to the Med Bay so he can check you over." You tried to sound disinterested but you couldn't help the smirk that crept onto your face as you spoke.

Natasha nodded and started to sit up, only to nearly yell in pain and lower herself back to your bed. You watched her trying to get up again as her eyes lost focus, an indication that moving was proving to hurt a bit too much for the Assassin now that the adrenaline had worn off.

"Would you like some help?" You chuckled softly and the redhead could've nearly killed you with the glare she sent your way. You raised your hands in surrender. "Just offering."

Natasha hesitated a moment before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh and nodding curtly. You giggled and made your way to her, opening the numbing cream you'd taken from the med bay.

"I'm gonna apply some of this and give it a minute to take effect. That should help enough for you to move. I don't suggest trying to walk however, so once you're numb enough for it to not be totally excruciating, I'm going to carry you to Bruce okay?" Your voice held a gentle tone in it that you'd usually reserved for Wanda and children. You'd never deemed anyone else worthy of seeing the softer side of your usual self. But you figured Natasha needed a little more comfort than she was letting on, and your constant cocky, sarcastic tone of voice wasn't going to be much help.

Natasha nodded and you sat next to her again, gently applying the numbing cream around her wound. Natasha let out a soft sigh as you rubbed her stomach with light pressure, relieving the tension she didn't even know she'd had in her abdomen. As you rubbed over her stomach muscles you noticed a puckered pink scar above her left hip. You ran your fingers over it gently and looked up at her in question.

"I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot at my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff, I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier - Bucky - was there. I was covering my asset, so he shot him. Straight through me." She explained with a far off look in her eyes and you nodded slowly, grazing your fingers over the scar again.

Natasha took a shaky breath and you realized just how intimate your actions were. Withdrawing your hands you smiled softly at the redhead and she seemed to hold your gaze as if she were silently asking you something. You weren't sure what.

"How does it feel?" You asked gently and Natasha's face contorted in an - admittedly adorable expression of confusion.

"What?" She sounded so lost you could melt, you gestured to her stomach and watched realization dawn on her features. "Oh. Better I guess"

You walked back into your closet and grabbed a soft loose T-shirt before walking out and helping Natasha get into it. You weren't sure how tired she really was, but she must have been exhausted if she was letting you dress her without a problem-she didn't even fight you on the idea of wearing your shirt.

"Ready to go to the Med Bay?" You smirked and Natasha couldn't help but match your expression.

"I doubt Bruce'll be half as gentle with me" Natasha rolled her eyes dramatically and you chuckled.

"I'm sure you'll be fine" You gently gathered the redhead in your arms, lifting her up as she wrapped her arms around your neck. "Let's go princess"

Natasha grumbled slightly at the pet name and tucked her head against your shoulder, hiding her face in your neck.

You both tried desperately to ignore your intrusive thoughts at the other's proximity as you made your way down the hall. You tensed slightly as you saw Tony heading your direction with a knowing smirk.

"Look at you two acting like you don't totally hate each other" He chuckled and you felt your face heating up as you felt Natasha huff against your neck, her breath fanning across your skin.

"Shut the fuck up Stark" Natasha snapped, her lips brushing against your collarbone. "I'm injured and y/n was my only available option"

You smirked, knowing her comment was totally bullshit.

"I don't have to act like I don't hate Nat, Tony." You rolled your eyes "She's not as terrible as she pretends to be"

Tony looked at you in surprise as Natasha pulled away enough to stare at you in pure shock. You studied both their reactions before shrugging and continuing to walk down the hall.

You made it to the med bay and smiled at Bruce as you gently set Natasha on the small bed by the wall.

"I come bearing a patient." You giggled and Bruce raised his eyebrows ``I already stitched her up, she just needs to be screened for other injuries. Annnnddd she probably needs pain relievers- let me know when you're done and i'll take her back to her room.``

Forty-five minutes later and you were once again carrying the redheaded assassin through the halls. Her face tucked against your neck again- which you were alarmingly comfortable with.

"You know" You paused as Natasha pulled away enough to look at you. "This is probably the most we've never gotten along."

"Probably?" Nat grinned "This is definitely the most we've ever gotten along."

You got to her room and stepped inside, your face contorting in confusion and disapproval.

"What the fuck is this?" You deadpanned and Natasha snorted.

The room was full of training equipment and weapons just sitting around. There wasn't really a bed -just a mattress on the ground.

"This is my room" Natasha said as if you were an idiot, and you felt like one as you started carrying her away from her own room and down the hall.

"Absolutely not- not while you're injured. Nope." You walked back into your room, much to the confusion of Natasha.

"What are you-?" Natasha started as you walked in and set her gently in a chair before stripping the bloodied sheets from your bed, tossing them in your laundry basket and grabbing another set from your closet.

"You're staying here until you've healed more-there's no way you're staying in that room while injured." You huffed as you pulled the fitted sheet around your bed and quickly made it up.

"Y/n i can't possibly-" Natasha started to get up and winced with a small groan, you sighed and lifted her up, moving her to the bed as gently as possible.

"That's another reason for you to stay here." You smirked "Your dumb stubborn ass keeps trying to get up."

Natasha just glared at you from her place.

"I hate you" She grumbled and your smile faltered.

"Sometimes I really do believe that '' You paused before heading to the door, not giving Natasha time to respond. "I'm gonna go get you some water so you can take those painkillers."

The moment you got out the door you closed your eyes and sighed, trying to ground yourself.

"Are you okay?" An accented voice startled you from your thoughts and you jumped, opening your eyes. "Sorry"

"Yeah- I'm fine. It's just..." You trailed off, unsure of how to explain your predicament.

"Natasha?" Wanda asked and you raised an eyebrow in question. "You guys have really loud, loud thoughts when you're around each other"

"Yeah.." You mumbled "The little shit's confusing"

"Little?" Wanda mused and crossed her arms "She's a grown woman"

"She's like- 5'2, I said what i said" You ran a hand through your hair and sighed as Wanda gave you a stern, knowing look. "I like her i do- I just- everytime I start making progress she goes cold or we end up fighting and then it's all back to square one"

"She has feelings for you too, but you know Natasha." Wanda shrugged "She's pretty much terrified of the idea of loving someone. She's afraid of her feelings and she's definitely not going to admit to having them unless you make her."

"Loving?" You choked on the air you were previously trying to breathe. "Why are we talking about love?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow at you and scoffed.

"The tension between you two is more than just lust, or a silly crush. There's potential there."

"What do you mean?" Your voice squeaked slightly and Wanda laughed, tapping her temple with a knowing smile.

"Loud. Loud thoughts"

"I don't know what to do anymore" You groaned and the Sokovian gave you a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Well she can't exactly run away at the moment so- I suggest you try talking to her" Wanda smiled and you pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank you"

"Anytime" She laughed as she pulled away "Now, Go get that water and then go get your girl"

"How did you-"

"Thoughts y/n" Wanda grinned and disappeared into her room.

You chuckled, shaking your head before heading to the kitchen.

You got the water and rushed back to your room, slowing down just outside the door and taking a breath before quietly entering and carefully pulling the door closed as you entered your room.

"That took you a suspiciously long time" Natasha glared at you and you smirked.

"Miss me that much?" You teased setting a glass of cold water on the nightstand by the bed. "I ran into Wanda"

You didn't miss the way Natasha tensed at the mention of the witch but you kept all jokes about her jealousy to yourself. You would be jealous too if the roles were reversed and she'd been with Steve or something.

Despite knowing the two were strictly friends.

"You lied to me" You sat by Natasha as she raised an eyebrow at you in near confusion. "Bruce has been here alllllll day"

You dragged your words out in a sing-song manner and Natasha huffed.

"So why'd you come to me?" You already knew the answer now, but you wanted to see how far Natasha would go to avoid admitting that she liked you as much as you liked her.

"I couldn't find him" Natasha shrugged and you chuckled softly.

"That's not true, you would've found him if you actually looked"

Natasha fixed you with a glare that would rival the world's strongest laser.

"What are you getting at y/l/n?"

"I think you really do like me" You chuckled and a look of panic flashed behind the assassin's eyes. "I'm gonna change your bandages- it's been an hour and we need to keep them clean. I don't want you getting infected"

You moved on so casually Natasha almost forgot that you'd called her out. Almost. However, she was happy to not address it for fear of outing her true feelings for you and you- obviously not feeling the same.

You smirked as you approached the bed, a new idea forming on how to make the redhead suffer a little more before you put an end to her misery.

You completely ignored the chair by the bed, opting to get on the bed and straddle Natasha's thigh, earning a surprised grunt from the Assassin as she stared up at you in confusion.

"Better angle" You explained innocently, starting to pull off Nat's (Your) shirt and removing the bandages that covered her wound.

Natasha studied your features as you concentrated on putting ointment on her stomach before bandaging her back up. Noticing the way you furrowed your brows slightly and bit your lip as you stayed diligently focused.

She had to admit you looked heavenly, hovering above her.

Her mind had wandered to other things when she let out an involuntary gasp as she felt your fingers brush the skin above the waistband of her pants. She looked up at you with wide eyes but you didn't seem to react at all, a neutral expression resting on your face and your focus still on her bandages.

Maybe she'd imagined it?

You glanced up at the assassin as you finished applying the gauze to her wound.

"You alright there?" You raised an eyebrow and Natasha nodded, hiding a blush. "You sure?"

"Yeah I just-" Natasha was cut off when you brushed your fingertips up the side of her ribs, a small smirk ever-present on your lips.

There was no way she imagined that, was there?

It easily could have been due to you changing her bandages, but a part of Natasha wanted to believe your tender touches against her skin were purposefully wandering.

"You seem a little out of it Nat" You cocked your head to the side, keeping a neutral tone despite the urge to grin. Natasha didn't answer, she was too busy overthinking the wishful thoughts invading her head. "Nat?"

You waved your hand in front of her face causing her eyes to snap to yours. Confusion and something unreadable was written all over behind her stoic facade.

"Do I need to be worried?" You furrowed your brows in concern. "You seem really distracted"

Natasha swallowed harshly, shaking her head, closing her eyes.

"I-" Natasha was cut off again, this time by a sharp intake of breath as you traced your hands down her sides, settling them on her hips.

She definitely hadn't imagined that.

"You what?" You tilted your head to the side with small, kind smile as Natasha's eyes fluttered open to reveal how her gaze had glazed over in confusion.

She couldn't read you as well as she wanted to at that moment. Her head was clouded over with want, but her mind still swarmed with questions as she tried to figure you out.

"What's wrong Nat?" You leaned over the redhead and she closed her eyes again, subconsciously tilting her head as you gently pressed a soft kiss to her jaw line.

You grinned at the way Natasha shuddered when your lips pressed to her skin, nibbling gently before pulling away.

Natasha's eyes opened again, her pupils blown and her gaze visibly full of want, but also perplexity. Her body language still tense.

The smirk you held, transitioned to a gentle smile as you cupped her cheek, remembering what Wanda said about her feelings. Your thumb softly traced along her cheekbone to her lips. You dragged your thumb along her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, causing Natasha to take a deep breath.

Her eyes fluttered shut a third time and she leaned into your touch. A small, still guarded smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

This moment was probably the softest thing to ever happen between the two of you. In fact, Natasha thought it might be the most gentle thing she'd ever experienced.

"What are you doing?" Natasha sighed, but her eyes stayed closed, afraid that if she opened them you would disappear. She was afraid she was dreaming, and if this was indeed a dream. Natasha Romanoff never wanted to wake up.

"I don't want to hate each other" You admitted quietly to the assassin, who hummed in response.

"Me either" Natasha mumbled, her accent slipping out as she let her guard down. Her walls crumbled then and there as her entire body relaxed under your touch. "I don't think I ever hated you"

Her quiet words made you melt as she turned her face to kiss the palm of your hand before leaning back against it. The warmth of her cheek against your hand sent waves of a comfort you never knew through the both of you.

"I don't think i ever hated you either" You chuckled at the way her eyes suddenly opened, her eyebrow raised as if to say 'oh really?'.

You shook your head gently with a fond smile.

"It's true, i don't hate you" You grazed your thumb along the redhead's jaw. "I don't think i even know how to"

The tenderness in the assassin's gaze was foreign to both of you, along with the unspoken emotions floating lightly in the air around you.

"Kiss me" Natasha's hushed whisper held a tone akin to pleading. Normally you would take this opportunity to tease the assassin further but the look in her eyes told you she needed this just as much as you did, and you didn't want to ruin the moment for the sake of a joke.

You slowly leaned in toward the redhead until you were barely an inch away from her lips before hesitating, looking between her eyes for any signs of regret, and finding nothing but serenity in a sea of deep green.

"Are you sure?" You asked stupidly, anxious that the other woman would change her mind.

A sigh left parted lips before Natasha nodded, barely moving her head. She wet her lips before finally speaking in a breathy whisper, her eyes burning with the intensity of her desires.

"Please"

Her hands moved to your waist, balling fistfuls of your shirt, tugging you down gently against her and you maneuvered yourself to avoid putting pressure on her wound.

After a moment of silence, you finally connected your lips to hers.

Electricity buzzed around you as you both sighed contently into the kiss. Natasha filled your senses, her gentle hum of pleasure was music to your ears, her skin was soft and warm to the touch, she tasted like Cinnamon and she smelled like pine trees.

You found yourself getting lost in the kiss, and with a light bite to her bottom lip, you drew a soft gasp from Natasha. In that moment you deepened the kiss, experimentally slipping your tongue between her lips and letting it dance with hers.

When air became a problem, you moved your lips along her jaw and down her neck, finding her collarbone and placing gentle kisses along her skin as you listened to her attempts to catch her breath.

When Natasha began pushing you further down her body you reluctantly withdrew your lips from her soft skin. You moved up to face her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

A small grin formed on your face as Natasha let out a soft whine, pulling at your shirt.

"Nat" you murmured, tracing her jawline with your fingertips as a pout formed on the assassin's lips. "We can't"

"Why not?" Natasha kept her tone hushed as she pressed her palms to your shoulders.

"Because, Tasha, there's no way going any further can be good for you right now." You traced your fingertips along her arms in an attempt comfort the assassin. "You were injured and bleeding out literally a few hours ago, you need to rest and let yourself heal a bit."

"No," Natasha shook her head and huffed quietly, holding your gaze. "I need you, please."

You stared into her eyes as Natasha tried not to squirm beneath you. She looked so vulnerable and open, a needy frown pulling on the corners of her lips as she gripped the fabric of your shirt in her fists.

It took you a few moments before you uttered a quiet "okay" and pressed your lips once again to hers.

Natasha sighed softly as you made your way down her chest, tracing your fingertips over her ribs. You moved slowly, making sure to pay attention to every little moment, being wary of her wound.

Once her bra was removed you paid special attention to her breasts, massaging one with one hand while your lips wrapped around her other nipple, causing Natasha to arch her back, pushing her chest further toward your mouth.

She groaned softly at the movement and you moved a hand flat against the side of her ribs, gently holding her in place as you swirled your tongue around the hardened peak of her breast before moving your attention to the other.

Natasha's breathing hitched as you grazed your teeth along one bud while your thumb pressed into the other, she sighed quietly and tangled one hand in the sheets as her other hand found its way to your hair, tugging softly at the roots, earning a low groan from you.

You moved your focus once again to leaving a path of gentle open mouthed kisses and love bites across Natasha's skin, trailing your way down her sternum and to her toned stomach.

Her hand stayed in your hair, tugging as her ab muscles contracted and pulsed under your lips. You chuckled, finding the button to her jeans and undoing it while laving kisses around her belly. You tugged them off her hips, slowly pulling them down her legs as you watched her face.

She held your gaze with half lidded eyes, her lips slighty parted and only a little kiss swollen. Her arms had at somepoint made their way above her head, crossed at the wrists as she dug her fingers into the pillows.

You finished removing the jeans, tossing them to the ground, leaving Natasha in nothing but her navy blue panties.

You admired the view of the wet spot visible on the dark fabric before leaning down to press a kiss to her left knee, smiling as Natasha whined at your teasing.

You trailed your lips up her thigh reveling in the soft sighs and whimpers you coaxed from the redhead.

You made your way up to her hip again, this time, placing a deliberate kiss to the rough pink skin of her scar. You glanced up at her in time to see a grin blooming on her lips at the action you felt your chest warm at the sight of her smiling with her teeth, her head tilted to the side and her eyes closed.

You pressed kisses down to her pubic bone and Natasha gasped a quiet involuntary moan as you dragged the tip of your tongue over her covered core, humming at the faint taste of her.

You hooked your fingers through the waistband of her panties and made quick work of removing them as fast as possible. Not wanting to keep her waiting any longer.

Anchoring your arms around her thighs you held Natasha open as you drove your tongue through her folds moaning softly as you lapped at her juices. Natasha writhed beneath you, soft sighs of pleas and low, breathy moans falling from her lips like your new favorite song.

You hummed along with her, wrapping your lips around her clit as you slid two fingers easily into her core, exploring her intimacy at a steady pace as her quiet sighs of pleasure evolved into a symphony of sweet impassioned moans.

One shaky hand found it's way back to your hair, tugging hard and earning a groan from you, sending vibrations straight through her center. The other hand found yours resting on her hip and intertwined your fingers as she cried out in pleasure.

Her hips rocked in time with your movements as you swirled yout tongue around her clit causing Natasha to choke on a moan. She whined helplessly as you pulled your mouth away from her only to surge forward and connect your lips to hers.

The kiss was messy and earnest as you let Natasha taste herself on your tongue. You moved your kisses down her jaw before pulling away just enough to watch her face as you curled your fingers just right and swiped your thumb over her clit.

Her brows drew together as her eyes clamped tighter shut, her grip on your hand and in your hair grew tighter as her walls fluttered around your fingers.

A chorus of your name and "gonna cum" flowed choppily from her lips as she tucked her face in your neck, moaning huskily against your skin.

You sped up your movements rubbing tight circles around her clit with your thumb and mumbling a soft "Cum dekta" in her ear.

Natasha wrapped her hand that wasn't holding yours around the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to her as her body began to spasm and chants of your name spilled from her as her cum coated your hand. You helped her ride out her orgasm until she began to whine, releasing your hand to push at the one between her legs, murmuring a soft "No more."

You pulled away, sitting back to hold her eyes as you licked your hand, and sucked your fingers clean of her juices.

"Fuck" she groaned and pulled you down for a slow contented kiss, humming as she tasted herself on your lips.

You fell next to Natasha, turning on your side and tracing her collarbone with your fingertips. The assassin scooted closer to you with a frown and tugged at your shirt.

"Off" She whined, grunting as she tried to pull your shirt up without moving too much.

You laughed, placating her with a kiss before sitting up and pleeling the shirt off your body. You tossed your shirt on the ground and quickly removed all remaining clothing before settling in next to Natasha again with a soft sigh.

Natasha turned on her side to pull you closer, groaning as she shifted with a quiet "Ow."

You immediately sat up again looking her over.

"Shit. Baby, I gotta make sure you didn't pop a stitch." You mumbled, pulling at Natasha's bandages.

"I'm fine, it can wait." Was all she said as she stilled your hands with her own and you huffed quietly.

"At least let me clean you up a little, you're all sweaty and the bandages are loose anyway."

Natasha grumbled and nodded subtly and you rewrapped her injury as quickly as you could after checking that none of the stitching had come undone.

You slid back into bed and let Natasha get comfortable before you laid halfway on top of her, pressing your head to her chest as both of her hands weaved into your hair, stroking through it soothingly.

You hummed contently and pressed a kiss to her collarbone, making a mental note to thank Wanda the next time you saw her as you slowly drifted off to sleep to the sound of Natasha humming a lullaby as she carded her fingers through your hair.

Tagging: @yourtaletotell @chelleztjs18

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solomons-poison · 4 months

Text

Unpredictability

Chevalier Michel x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: OK I had to do just a little bit more with the Chev thoughts of having a daughter, connected to my headcanon post here, so just have this little slice of life thing. Papa Chevalier has a very special place in my heart ❤️

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: fem reader, reader is the mother of Chev's daughter and queen of Rhodolite; just some sweet fluff mostly in Chevalier's perspective; Chev is likely OOC for a bit lol; not proofread~

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 2193

Chevalier had a knack for predictions. His perception had always been extraordinary, able to pick up the smallest of clues from his environment and the people around him to know what would happen next. It aided him in his development as a prince, working with his brothers to keep the kingdom running smoothly as his father’s health declined, and it helped him now that he was the king of that same kingdom. He was a monster on the battlefield, strategically taking down enemies with the ease of a beast, and was equally a monster in the courts, always knowing what information was needed where and who to deal with.

When it came to you, however, you were his blind spot.

No amount of strategy and foresight could have prepared him for the way your fates intertwined, or the way you captured his very heart in the palm of your hand. A younger Chevalier would have scoffed at such a notion, that he had the human emotion to even fall in love to begin with when he was most aptly labeled as the "Brutal Beast" by every possible noble in the court. But of course all it took was the wisdom and pure heart of Belle to look deep inside and find the truth. Looking back on the events leading up to the discovery of these feelings, once he met you, he realized it couldn't have gone any other way.

You managed to surprise him at every turn, with your unending love, your wisdom, your thoughtfulness and devotion. That's what made you fit to be his queen, someone that helped him bring out and connect with his human side. The day he married you was something he never could have dreamed of in a hundred years, and even much less so, the tiny babbling bundle you delivered into your lives a year later.

Now he watched as his tiny daughter, three years old and full of toddler mischief, ran through the rose gardens of the palace at alarming speed, eager to see you again after being separated during a diplomatic trip– and she wasn’t the only one that was eager. He could just make out the top of her head, her hair color the exact same as yours and bouncing along as she moved.

That was something he was thankful for, the way his daughter resembled you in so many ways. Her hair color, the shape of her face, even her personality and stubbornness was coming to resemble you too, and he had no doubt the similarities would continue as she grew older. She was also attached to books the same, though honestly he was just as much at fault for that as his queen. However, the one thing that differed was that she had inherited his eyes, a strong clear blue that somehow looked right into your soul.

The little princess was beginning to learn how to use those ice blue eyes to her advantage, much to his amusement. When something didn't go her way, she'd glare at whoever was responsible in no dissimilar way to his own until they cracked from the pressure. It was no end of stress to Sariel or his brothers, realizing there was a little Chev 2.0 in the making. She'd even turned that icy gaze onto him, too, managing to surprise him.

Anyone that looked at her knew immediately whose daughter it was, and something about that sentiment, creating this tiny human so clearly made up of his traits and yours together, warmed him up inside.

Getting lost in his reverie, he quickly lost sight of his small child and hastened his pace. The full bushes made it difficult to keep his eye on her, even with his keen eye and sense of danger, so outside excursions were often accompanied by extra help such as the servants or even Lucien on rare occasion. Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary today as you were the one waiting at the end of their journey through the garden, and the thick foliage made the path clear, leading up to a gazebo.

Just as the image of your face came to mind, he could hear a loud exclamation from up ahead, and turned a corner in time to watch his daughter run into your waiting arms.

“Mama!”

You couldn’t help but grunt from the force with which you were tackled, but your arms wrapped around your daughter as she gripped you tightly.

“Hi, my love! I've missed you,” you said, pulling back to kiss the top of her head. You noticed the missing presence of your husband, glancing around before looking back at your child. “I’m so happy to see you again. Where’s your papa at, can you tell me?”

“Papa is slow,” your daughter mumbled, the excitement of seeing you lost already as she caught sight of the butterflies flitting about from bloom to bloom behind you.

Her wording made you giggle against your better judgment. Your husband could be described as many things, but you were certain the word “slow” was not one of them. But almost as if summoned, his platinum blond head came into view over the bountiful rose bushes, and it was as if all was suddenly right with the world— even if he did have a slight frown on his face.

“Little rabbit, I’ve told you not to run ahead in the gardens,” he sighed, entering the gazebo and patting his daughter’s head roughly. Instantly, her attention turned back to him, two pairs of ocean blue eyes meeting briefly before she looked away.

“‘M sorry, papa, I won’t do it again,” she replied, reaching out to hug his leg, gripping the fabric of his pants with tiny hands. Anyone else that saw this scene would expect the King to be cold and unfeeling in response, but instead he sighed, patting her hair awkwardly without a word.

You watched all this quietly, unable to fight the smile that made its way onto your face. The method of his comforting reminded you much of the early days of your relationship in which he did the same, unsure how to touch you or perhaps even afraid to hurt you. Chevalier may have been called the Brutal Beast for his actions, but he was really more of a beast for the way he was unused to loving human touch.

Over time, he’d eventually grown better and more confident with touching you, a way to express his unending love for you that he couldn’t express with his serious and less-than-romantic words. But it all seemed to revert the moment your daughter was born.

You remembered the very first time he had held her. All his brothers and the palace physician had waited with bated breath, and it was clear in Chevalier’s expression that he had his own reservations about what he was about to do. How could hands used for killing, hands used for exterminating the threats to the kingdom and defending the borders, possibly be suitable for holding that of his small, innocent child? The moment his daughter was placed in his arms, his discomfort was extremely clear –to you, at least– arms frozen stiff in an attempt to be gentle to the tiny creature he'd been entrusted with. But it was this same discomfort and worried reaction that showed you just how much he actually cared about her, and about you, too.

The memory brought a smile to your face, which was met by a strong, familiar poke to the forehead.

“Do not let your head get caught in the clouds, Rabbit,” Chevalier said. His voice was chastising, but the smirk gracing his lips was soft, sweet, making your heart thump.

Chevalier caught sight of one of his brothers out of the corner of his eye, a familiar flop of lilac hair waiting just beyond an ivy-covered arch by the gazebo. It reminded him how, as his daughter grew and came to differentiate his brothers, an unfortunate attachment had grown to a particular somebody. Much to his dismay, his daughter seemed to like her uncle Clavis the most, often shouting his name and using her stubby legs to seek him out when she could, and the feeling was mutual with the resident troublemaker. And Clavis delighted in this fact, often rubbing that in his older brother’s face and using it as an excuse to irritate him at every turn.

But today, Chevalier would use it to his advantage if it meant having you to himself, at least for a little bit. He knelt down to eye level with his child, peering into her familiar ice blue eyes.

“Little rabbit, I want to speak to your mother,” he said. He turned in the direction of his brother, pointing to direct his daughter’s attention in the same direction as well. “Why don’t you go see your uncle Clavis? He’s waiting for you in the gardens.”

His daughter’s eyes widened to a comical size, filled with excitement. Her head whipped around to search, despite Chevalier’s finger pointing the way, but thankfully, Clavis was accompanied by his trusty attendant, Cyran, who popped his head out at the perfect time to catch her attention. His shock of red hair made him look like a human rose, against the background of the gardens.

A shrill shriek filled the air, causing you and Chevalier to wince simultaneously. “Unca Cwavis and Cyan!” Your daughter was still having trouble pronouncing her L’s and R’s, but the men didn't mind. Chevalier watched as his daughter shot forward, “Cyan” quickly bowing to Chevalier in greeting before catching the girl in his arms. As he watched the two leave, he felt an arm slip through his and turned to look at you.

“I’ve missed you too, King Chevalier. I’m so glad to see you look okay,” you said, your relief evident in your smile. “How was everything during the visit? Did everything go alright?”

Chevalier huffed at your questions. “Would I have returned so soon if things did not go well?”

Your face scrunched up for a moment, but you were used to Chevalier’s sass.

“I know, but I’m still allowed to worry about you,” you said, leading Chevalier over to a bench in the gazebo. “The people of Rhodolite know now what a kind King you are, but I can’t say the same about people in other countries. And I know you’re capable of handling many things, but I still don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll always wish for your safety and good health, can’t I wish that for my own husband?”

Chevalier took a moment to look at your face, eyes following the curve of your eyebrows and lips, the shape of your nose and jaw, all features he had long since memorized. Finally, he simply snorted, reaching a hand up to poke your forehead again as a smile made its way onto his lips.

“That is awfully sentimental, and also unnecessary,” he said. “I am not so weak as to be felled so easily. I will always return to my Rabbit in the end, so long as you wish to wait for me.”

Now who’s being sentimental? You didn’t dare say that to his face, although the caution was unnecessary, given the way he was always able to read your thoughts based on your expressions alone. His smile turned teasing, clearly knowing what you were thinking, but he didn’t comment further on it.

“Now, I believe you’re forgetting something,” he said expectantly.

He watched as your head tilted in confusion. The gears were clearly turning in your head to determine what he was waiting for, but it only took a moment for understanding to dawn on your face, your lips curving up into a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Chevalier,” you said, stretching up to place a soft kiss to his cheek.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he returned the kiss to your lips, the taste of home filling his senses. He didn’t speak further, but he didn’t have to. Every ounce of his love was put into his kisses, and you gladly accepted it all.

Neither of you could have ever predicted being here, Chevalier least of all. His life had become a fairy tale on par with the romance books he enjoyed reading but never totally understood. No amount of strict noble education, military strategy, or the annoying words of a certain foolish brother could have told him that a future like this was possible. But as he held you close under cover of the gazebo, happy to finally have you in his arms once again, he realized he was okay with that. You came into his life in a whirlwind of drama and intrigue, turning his expectations around and introducing him to so many unfamiliar things and feelings, like fatherhood, yearning, and love. It wore on him, at times, not being able to see where his future was heading thanks to all the new things he was experiencing by your side. However, so long as it was with you, Chevalier supposed he was okay with a little bit of unpredictability.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#chevalier x reader #chevalier michel #ikemen prince #ikepri chevalier #ikepri fluff #ikepri fanfic #the minx can write ✍️

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bunabi · 4 months

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oh my god no, your point about zevran--first of all i ate it up, second i think you're right. my 1st playthrough of origins i ran as a male tabris that romanced zev and i need to do another playthrough because the vibes i always got about zevran that i could never quite put to words was that contrary to the common(?) fandom perception of zevran just being a very pretty and gentlemanly piece of meat, zev always struck me as much more nuanced and subtle LI than some of the other romance options who were more blatant in their feelings and thoughts and--yeah the big tell to me that something was off with Zev was also whenever he stopped speaking in a grandiose, expressive, or easygoing manner. You don't have to prompt him that much or be invasive after he's already decided to tell you something about himself; he'll talk for a while and he's descriptive. Even when other companions are being rather rude to him, Zev can do the verbal equivalent of a cartwheel easily and often. But he gets reticent with you after he's given you his earring and he's having a crisis about being in love with you and wanting to be your partner. And every time he caught wind of another companion liking you, he's gentlemanly but also quite straightforward and short when he says he'll get out of that companion's way if you want him to (but he doesn't want you to want that, he wants to be kept); aaaaand ... yeah, then he does what you pointed out with oghren. thinking of how Zev responds to you giving him those dalish gloves and what he says about his mom there (and in general how he behaves while you're in the forest doing the dalish questline) my best guess is that he's ... on paper he says he has no attachment to the dalish because he doesn't really think of himself as being one of them, but also he can't help but be sentimental and want some kind of attachment to something longer-lived and meaningful, like the dalish clans and their heritage/history? i can't remember what exactly Zev's thoughts were on alienages (though I imagine that would be a clue here) but my sense of Zev was always that for a dude who often seemed to believe himself a detached outsider, Zev also still identifies with his elf heritage & cares about elf issues--it's just that, you know, as a formality Zev still needs to take it from the top when prompted and explain how he's an amoral miscreant and murderer, that he's owned by the Crows and lacks individuality, you see he's technically neutral about everything because he's committed so many crimes dohow can he judge? Or something like that. I remember similar convos like what you're describing coming up between Zev and ... whatever the rock person's name was. Slate? Slade? Granite? Rock? SHALE. Yes, Shale. Because Shale always has odd questions. I'm sure Sten probably also has contributed to the mystery of Zev in some way but I can't recall off the top of my head lol.

Think you meant to send this to @zevsurana! I'm not the OP of that post! 😅

#honored to be mistaken for them though; their DA posts are fantastic #replies

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pterodactyl-hater · 3 months

Text

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

・❥・ You had no clue he was alive, but he didn’t know that

・❥・word count: 2k

・❥・warnings: mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse, ANGST, LOOSELY based off one scene from tsitp, my own hc of pre-vamp Astarion

・❥・ Has anyone else seen that one tsitp edit to Sign of the Times? No? Also it occurred to me that now 2/3 fics I’ve posted on this platform are about vampires, lord I fear I have a type, also also, let’s just pretend Astarion can remember his life pre-vamp, just pretend for me thank yewwwww

You adored your best friend more than words could describe. Anyone could tell how you admired him, just from how you looked at him. Astarion had always been very handsome, you struggled to look away from his gorgeously tanned skin, and his platinum curls. Your eyes caught on the strong curve of his nose and the way the sun highlighted his brown eyes. But he was more than just his appearance. He was clever and too charming for his own good.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion would ask, his voice tinged with a teasing playfulness.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” ‘Like you’re in love with me’ is what he failed to say, but the message rang clear. The air thickened. You shrugged, eyes never breaking from his. He smiled and shook his head, the slightest bit of pink forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. For all that you adored him, Astarion would worship you.

Then one day, you stopped seeing Astarion. He didn’t show up to the cafe you two had planned on meeting at, perhaps he had fallen ill. He stopped showing up to work, a spontaneous vacation he had forgotten to tell you of in advance, possibly. He wasn’t home, everything had been just as it was left no longer than a week ago. A thin layer of dust covered the house, completely undisturbed. Another week had passed before you got closure.

“This is (y/n) (l/n)?” A large man asked. He had knocked at your door late at night, a heavy hood over his eyes. You hesitantly nodded in confirmation. “You were close with Astarion Ancunin correct?” He asked.

“Correct.” You replied slowly, your curiosity peaked, along with your worry, anything could have happened to your best friend, he could be anywhere.

“I’m here on behalf of Cazador Szarr, to inform you of Astarion’s passing.” He nodded coolly as if he hadn’t just delivered the worst news one could deliver.

“How?” Your voice was quieter than you wished it to be.

“He was murdered on Cazador’s estate. We’ve been unable to determine who killed him, but we are working diligently to bring him to justice.” The hooded man assured. Tears welled in your eyes, your throat closed in on itself. You nodded quickly and closed the door once the man had left.

You never saw Astarion’s body. It was a morbid thought, sure. To wish to see the mutilated corpse of your best friend was a sentiment not shared by many. You assumed his body had already been handed off, most likely to his parents. Oh Gods, you wonder if his mother has seen the cold mangled body of her young son. You’d have to check on her eventually. You wonder if he was handled with care. Did the hooded man carry Astarion in his arms to pass him onto his father? Or was he perhaps shipped in a cramped box, tossed on their doorstep with no regard to the remains of the young boy, who had so much life ahead of him?

You lost track of how long you mourned. You would never see him again. You’d never hear his voice, look into his beautiful brown eyes. You missed him so bad it would keep you up at night, your head hurt from staying awake so long, yet your chest hurt from the idea of falling asleep and having a singular moment of not thinking of him.

After a while, you finally started to allow yourself to rest. After that, you began letting yourself enjoy things. You started getting invited to large parties hosted by Cazador, as some effort to apologize for the tragedy that had befallen your closest friend on his property. A cold case as it had been declared after almost a month. You attended a few, you couldn’t help but be made uncomfortable by the atmosphere, the guests seemed off, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched every time you set foot near Cazador’s palace, for no particular reason. Perhaps it was Astarion’s ghost keeping watch over you.

It had been your first time leaving Baldur’s Gate in years. Except for a short trip to your and Astarion’s parents you had taken a few weeks after his death, you hadn’t left in the many years since his untimely demise. You still remember that trip vividly, the smell of the countryside, and how everyone seemed to walk on eggshells to avoid speaking of the no-longer-present boy.

You weren’t doing anything particularly important on this trip, simply looking around at whatever there was to find. You had found your way to a busy market, scents of fresh bread and lavender and bright silky fabrics overwhelmed your senses when one thing caught your attention. A head of platinum curls. The head turned towards you and you swear you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was him, Astarion, undoubtedly. He’s changed, barely recognizable if you hadn’t known him like the back of your hand. You felt like you would be sick, seeing the dead boy clearly not dead. His once sun-kissed skin was now a ghastly shade of white. Cinnamon brown eyes now ran a shade of red, dark as blood. It was jarring, seeing the boy you once loved so suddenly in such a vastly different state. Yet, his nose remained the same, as did his high cheekbones, his hair hadn’t changed one bit, except perhaps it was a bit messier now.

“Astarion!” You yelled before you could stop yourself. Your feet carried you to him as if it was second nature to be as close to him as possible. “Astarion!” His head turned towards you, his ruby red eyes giving you a once over before widening in surprise. You saw him take a step back, like a scared dog. You stopped running, only a few steps away from him. “How? How are you here right now?”

“I’m sorry who are you?” He asks. His eyes tell exactly what his mouth won’t, the same way they always have. He knows exactly who you are.

“Don’t play dumb.” You start, he flinches away. “You know who I am.” A few people look over at him, friends you presume. You inspect each of them, what a team he’s gathered. One of the few, a rather tall tiefling walks up to you with her fists clenched. As she approached it was like heat radiated off of her. She was about to open her mouth when a man who seemed rather keen on minding his own business stopped her. She continued glaring. “We need to talk.” You hissed to the man in front of you.

“Whatever it is that you want, I can’t provide.” His voice shook ever so slightly. Anger rose in you, he had left for 200 years and been presumed dead only to reappear and act as if he was scared of you.

“Astarion.” You said, warning in your tone. Silence hangs in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. “We need to talk.” You repeated. “Alone.” You could only imagine how you looked to his friends at the moment, a strange person running towards Astarion and insisting on privacy for a conversation. You hardly cared at the moment, too lost in inspecting every curve and line of your best friend’s face. After a second he looked towards the group and nodded them away wordlessly, he held the gaze of the tiefling a second longer.

“Well, guide the way.” He said in a faux confident manner. You huffed and turned on your heel. You lead him away from the bustle of the market, somewhere you two were ensured privacy. You found yourself near a murky pond, shaded by trees, and inhabited by large bullfrogs. Just as it became most important for you to speak, you felt your throat close up. Your mouth ran dry as you looked at him.

“I thought you were dead.” Your voice held a mixture of anger and hurt. You felt tears sting your eyes and you tried to blink them away.

“You’ve done quite enough, you don’t need to lie to me now.” He said. His eyes were wider now, his lips were pressed in a thin line. In stark contrast to the confident way he had held himself around his companions.

“I- what?” You asked breathlessly.

“I said you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You have some nerve.” Astarion started. He pointed an accusatory finger at you, his face now flushed red. “Coming after me after Gods know how long, only to pretend you didn’t see me at my worst? When I was nothing more than Cazador’s spawn. You disregarded me then, why do you think you have the right to crawl back to me now.”

You felt hot tears dare to fall out of your eyes at his seemingly unwarranted anger. He looked at you like you were nothing but a monster. “Cazador’s spawn?” You repeated quietly. “You mean you- you’re-” You sputtered. You felt like the air had been punched from your chest.

“A vampire?” He scoffed. “You really should stop acting clueless, it’s hard to watch.”

“I am clueless.” You shot back immediately. “I had no idea, I-I thought you were dead. I heard the news that you had been murdered.” Tears fell down your cheeks and dripped down your chin before you could stop them. You sucked in a harsh breath. “If I had known you were alive I would’ve fought for you.” Your hands reached out to his chest, you didn’t know if you were trying to push him away or bring him closer.

“What?”

“Fought for you! I would’ve fought for you, through everything. I would’ve been there for you!” You sobbed.

“I thought you knew!” His hands found yours on his chest. His skin was ice cold and you almost hissed from the temperature change. “Cazador had told me you knew."

"You think I would've just abandoned you?" You cried, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt.

"You were at the parties!"

"And I had no idea you were there!" You insisted. Your salty tears clung to your lashes, and your throat hurt from yelling. "You should've told me!"

"How? How would I have told you?" His crimson eyes bore into yours.

"I don't know! I just wish I could've been there for you! I would've helped you, no matter what." Your voice broke off as you cried. Astarion didn't cry, he barely made an expression as he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice quivering. “I’m so sorry.” He still didn’t make much of an expression.

“You should go.” He said after a beat of silence.

“W-what?”

“I said you should go, anywhere but here.”

“I’m not leaving you again, Astarion.”

“Well I don’t want you here.” He insisted.

“Why not?” Your voice raised.

“Because if you stay any longer I think I’ll fall back in love with you.” His voice was quiet and collected. Your voice died in your throat.

“Fall back in love?” You murmured, as if speaking it too loudly would make it untrue. “You were in love with me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and looked away from you. He took a step back. “Yes.” He hesitated. “I was. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Cazador,” he spit the name with enough venom to burn right through you. “told me that he had told you about my… transformation, offered me to you as a warm, or cold, body, and you declined. He said you simply didn’t wish to see me anymore, that you were glad to never speak to me again.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Which is a?”

“Lie.” You finished for him. “I was told that you had died. Cazador had one of his men tell me you had been murdered. I was too lost in grief to question any further. Clearly I should have.” You laughed humorlessly. “I mourned you. Everyday. For years.”

“You did?”

“I did.” You sighed. “And I did it because I loved you. With everything I had.” Awkward stillness came once again. “Can I kiss you-” You were cut off by feeling Astarion’s cold hands grab your cheeks softly and pull you into a short, tender kiss.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He laughed airily.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For not being there.” He took a deep breath.

“Well… you’re here now.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving.” You finished

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #bg3 x reader

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