#They'd be the best hunters ever actually

[itsdjover]

You know, if chuck made like thousands of worlds with different versions of Sam and Dean that he gave up on when he got bored, who's to say that Steve and Robin aren't an early draft of them 🤷

[jetii]

Lessons of the Heart

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

Words: 15,738

Tags/Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, strangers to lovers, soft!Crosshair, grumpy/sunshine dynamic, awkward flirting, mutual pining, kissing/making out, Crosshair's anxiety, reader has long-ish hair, Tech mentioned briefly

Summary: Over a year after settling on Pabu, Crosshair is still struggling to adapt to life without having something to fight, or fight for. When Omega comes home with a bad grade, he jumps at the chance to help. He doesn't expect to become so invested, and he certainly doesn't expect to fall for his sister's teacher.

A/N: This one got away from me! But since the poll indicated I should keep this all one part, here you go. I really enjoyed writing Crosshair's perspective and all the little sibling moments in here.

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"Again, Omega? We talked about this."

Crosshair stops dead in his tracks, one boot in front of the other, and stares straight ahead. The basket of dirty clothes in his grip hangs limp by his side as he stands in the hallway, listening. Hunter and Omega are in the kitchen, the latter having just gotten back from another day at school, and they’re clearly talking about something serious.

Crosshair doesn't dare to breathe too loud in case he misses a single word. It's hard not to notice how Hunter's voice drops low when he speaks, trying not to be overheard by someone. By someone like Crosshair.

"I know, Hunter," she groans. He can hear the sound of something hit the counter, likely a datapad, and Omega shifts on her stool. "I tried on this one, I promise."

Hunter hums in a tone that makes it clear he's not quite believing her, and Crosshair's eyebrows raise a little in curiosity.

"Let me see, please."

"Hunter—"

"Omega."

She huffs, but a few seconds later, the datapad slides across the counter with a quiet squeak, and Omega's chair scrapes across the floor as she sits back down. "There. Happy?"

"Thank you." There's a pause, and Crosshair can only imagine the face Hunter is making as he reads whatever it is that Omega is showing him. His voice is stern, a tone that Crosshair's come to know as the sergeant, not the brother. "What is this?"

"I told you," she whines.

"She gave you a 50%?" Hunter's voice raises slightly. "Why would she do that?"

Omega scoffs. She's getting better at that. It almost sounds natural now.

Crosshair peeks around the corner, and sure enough, Hunter has the datapad in his hands, reading over whatever report the teacher sent back. Omega sits next to him, her shoulders slumped, arms crossed, and she's not meeting his gaze. Her backpack sits unzipped, its contents strewn out across the countertop and the stool where she usually sits.

He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he's been doing it for so long he's not sure how to stop. And besides, the look on Hunter's face is one he doesn't like.

They'd all known going into this that Omega wasn't going to have an easy time at school. She excelled far beyond her peers in most subjects — math, history, science, languages, you name it — but there were two subjects where her intelligence failed her. Art, for one, because it was hard to grasp the concept of drawing something when she had no frame of reference. And then, of course, there was literature.

It's not her fault, and Hunter's well aware of it. Her education prior to the Batch adopting her was entirely focused on being the best lab assistant a Kaminoan could ever want. Over time, she soaked up anything they would teach her. Strategy, engineering, politics, even some basic medical training — Omega could do it all. But, as it turned out, there was a pretty big part of her education that she was severely lacking in, and it was starting to show.

Out of the three brothers, Crosshair was the only one who actually made a habit out of reading, though he'd never admit it to anyone. So he tried his best to teach Omega the concepts that her teacher was trying to instill in her, but sometimes it was difficult.

Literature was, by nature, subjective. It's always up for debate, and Crosshair found himself constantly questioning himself while helping Omega with her assignments. It usually ended with both of them frustrated, and Hunter or Wrecker stepping in to mediate the situation.

But still, Omega loved her classes, even if they were difficult. And Crosshair would never say it out loud, but he enjoyed spending time with her and helping her learn, even if it wasn't always the easiest.

It seemed, though, that her teacher didn't agree with his methods.

Hunter looks up from the datapad and places it on the counter. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and reaches across to pat Omega's shoulder. "It's okay. We can work with this."

She shrugs him off and hops down from the stool, gathering her things and stuffing them into her bag. When she tries to reach for the datapad, Hunter snatches it up and holds it out of her reach.

"Give it to me, Hunter."

"No. We're going to talk about this, Omega."

"There's nothing to talk about," she mutters, trying again and failing to grab the datapad.

Crosshair takes that as his cue. He steps into the kitchen and drops the basket of laundry onto the ground by his feet, the force of the landing enough to get their attention.

"Oh, good," Hunter says, looking at Crosshair. "You're home."

"Yep." Crosshair pops the 'p' and folds his arms, leaning back against the wall. He meets Omega's eyes for a moment, and the look on her face is like a punch to the gut. She looks defeated, and it's not a look that suits her.

He hates seeing her upset, especially over something so trivial. It's a report, and not even a very important one. It's not like her grades in the other classes were suffering. She was passing every single one of them with flying colors. It's just this one assignment, this one class, this one teacher who seems hellbent on making her feel bad about herself.

Crosshair can feel the rage bubbling under the surface. How dare her teacher give her a score that low, and why? Because of his help? That was his job, and he was doing it.

"What's going on?" Crosshair asks. He's still staring at Omega, trying to get her to look up at him, to meet his gaze, but she's not taking the bait. She's got her arms folded, her shoulders tense, and her lower lip juts out as she pouts at Hunter.

"I told her we'd talk about it, and she doesn't want to." Hunter sets the datapad back down, sliding it across the counter.

Crosshair picks it up, glancing at the words on the screen before scrolling through the report. It's an analysis, one he's read a million times. He doesn't bother skimming it, because he already knows exactly what she wrote. It's a decent summary of the text, and her thoughts and opinions are written plainly and with an obvious understanding of what the author meant. It's not her fault her teacher wanted her to interpret the text the way a typical thirteen-year-old might, but that wasn't who Omega was.

He glances back up at Hunter. "And what is there to talk about?"

"Well, her teacher doesn't seem to agree with her analysis," Hunter says. He nods at the datapad in Crosshair's hand. "The comments."

Crosshair finds the section in question and reads over the notes. It's a lot of the same, just worded a bit differently, but one comment sticks out among the rest.

Please try to stick to the original meaning of the text, Omega. You did well explaining how your interpretation differed from the traditional meaning, but try to focus on the actual story. 

It's the most condescending, ridiculous thing Crosshair has ever read, and he has to keep himself from throwing the datapad at the wall. He has to remind himself that doing that would only make Omega feel worse, and he doesn't want to upset her.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and hands the datapad back to her.

"This is stupid," he says, and he can see Hunter's eye twitch at his choice of words. "I read the text. I know what it means, and you know what it means. What, are you supposed to go through the entire thing and find the most cliche, obvious way of reading it?"

"No," Omega mumbles.

"Right," he agrees. "So then why is she giving you a low grade for your own thoughts and opinions?"

Omega shrugs. She's frowning, staring down at the datapad like it personally offended her.

And Crosshair knows that feeling, intimately. It's the same way he'd stare at the training room floor whenever a drill sergeant would call him a failure. It grates on his nerves, and he's half-tempted to find the teacher's home address and tell her just how wrong she is.

"But I'm doing it wrong," Omega says, her voice small and defeated.

Hunter is glaring at him now, but Crosshair can't find it in him to care.

"No, you're not," Crosshair insists, and he takes a seat beside her at the counter. "You did your research. You did everything you were supposed to, and you wrote a report about what you think it meant. What's wrong with that?"

Omega shrugs again, and he can see her hands balling up into fists.

The sight alone is enough to set him on edge. His entire body feels like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and ready to go. He hates seeing her like this. She's a bright kid, always smiling and happy, and to see her so down on herself makes him feel ill, and the last thing he wants is for her to think she's failed somehow.

Crosshair doesn't know why the teacher doesn't understand that, doesn't appreciate how amazing it is that a girl her age is even capable of writing a paper like this. Maybe, somewhere deep down, the teacher does get it. Maybe she's just pushing her own agenda. It wouldn't surprise Crosshair in the slightest, and the more he thinks about it, the more annoyed he gets.

"Maybe I should comm her," Hunter says, interrupting his train of thought.

Crosshair snaps his head around, glaring daggers at his brother. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't comm her." He pushes himself away from the counter and stands. "I'll handle this."

Hunter stares at him, one eyebrow raised, clearly confused. "Handle it?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna talk to her."

"Cross," Hunter says, but he doesn't finish his sentence.

Crosshair doesn't stick around long enough to hear the end of it. He's already halfway out the door, pulling his jacket off the hook, and slamming the door shut behind him.

Crosshair is pissed.

He doesn't often get angry. Annoyed, frustrated, irritated, yes. All those are familiar. But angry? Angry is not something he deals with. He can't stand it, the way his chest feels like it's about to explode, the way his heart rate picks up and his stomach feels sick. Anger makes him feel out of control, and the last thing he wants is to lose the little self-control he does have.

But now?

Now, he's angry.

Omega doesn't deserve to be treated like this. She doesn't deserve the way her teacher is talking to her, telling her she's doing something wrong when she isn't. If anything, the teacher should be grateful that Omega is even bothering to read the texts in the first place, that she's putting in the effort to analyze the meanings behind them.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely realizes how far he's gone. It's only when he spots the school, the tall building looming in the distance, does he realize he's halfway across town, and the sun is starting to dip below the horizon.

He slows his pace, taking a moment to catch his breath, and glances around. He's only been here a few times, just long enough to drop Omega off at the start of the day or pick her up after. He's never actually been inside, never even met a single one of her teachers, and he has no idea where her classroom even is.

A sign points him towards the front entrance, and he follows it. There's a handful of other parents waiting around the main entrance, all of them talking and laughing and joking with one another. A few of them glance his way, watching him curiously as he approaches the doors.

He ignores them, slipping inside and letting the doors close behind him. The hallways are quiet, and the sound of his boots against the tile echoes throughout the empty halls. He's not entirely sure where he's going, but he figures it can't be that hard to find her classroom.

It isn't.

It takes him less than a minute to locate her name, next to a door decorated with bright colors and images of what he assumes are the characters from a few of the stories they've read. He doesn't stop to admire the decorations, though. He doesn't stop at all, really. He pushes the door open and walks right inside, his eyes scanning the room.

The rows of chairs and desks are empty, but the one near the holoboard at the front of the room is occupied. There's a human woman sitting there, head bowed over a desk as she writes, and Crosshair strides up to her without hesitation.

"I want to talk about the report you gave Omega," he says, his voice tight, barely able to contain his anger. The woman looks up, clearly startled, and blinks owlishly at him.

The anger coursing through his veins suddenly tempers as he locks eyes with you, and he finds himself at a loss for words.

You're not what he was expecting, not in the slightest. He'd expected someone older, a woman with graying hair and crow's feet, maybe, one who's lived enough years to become old and jaded. Not this. Not you.

Your eyes are wide and bright, and the expression on your face is nothing short of adorable. He's not sure where that word came from, thrust to the forefront of his consciousness with the force of a speeder, but he can't deny that it's accurate. Your hair is tied up in a messy bun, a few loose strands hanging over your face, and there's a small, pink stylus stuck behind your ear. Your lips are slightly parted, a pretty shade of pink that almost matches the color of the pen, and he watches as they slowly form into a small 'o' as you process what's going on.

And then, just as quickly, your expression changes.

The adorableness falls away, and you straighten your posture, your brows furrowing and your lips pulling into a tight line.

"You must be Crosshair."

He frowns. "How did you—"

"She talks about you." You nod, glancing him up and down, and Crosshair has to fight the urge to shrink under your scrutiny. His mouth feels dry, and the sudden change in tone catches him off-guard. He was expecting defensiveness, maybe a little bit of anger. Instead, you sound...

Well, he can't really place it.

Crosshair nods, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. It's probably because he's angry. It has nothing to do with the way you're looking at him, the way your eyes rake over him, or the way your lips are curled up ever so slightly in a hint of a smile.

You clear your throat and gesture to the seat in front of you. He settles in it, not because you told him to, but because it seems like the polite thing to do. And because he wants to sit down.

Once he's seated, you fold your hands and place them on the desk, giving him your full attention. "I'm glad you're here."

That throws him. "You are?"

"Of course," you say, and the smile on your face is nothing short of dazzling. "I've been hoping to meet you for a while now. Omega speaks so highly of you, and I have to say, I was looking forward to finally meeting the man who's been helping her with her assignments."

And then, you do something Crosshair wasn't expecting. You extend your hand, offering a handshake.

He looks down at your hand, your fingers spread out, palm facing up. Your nails are painted a bright shade of pink, and there's a small smear of what looks like ink near the tip of your index finger. He glances up at your face, and you're smiling at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling a bit as you do.

His stomach does a weird flip, and his chest suddenly feels a lot warmer. He doesn't know what it is about your smile, your eyes, your voice, but it's...nice.

You're nice.

He doesn't take your hand.

You pull it away, but the smile doesn't leave your face. You don't seem offended or hurt, and you're still looking at him with an expression that can only be described as genuine kindness.

Crosshair swallows the lump in his throat. It's getting harder to stay angry, but he does his best to cling to his resolve. 

"You graded her report wrong,” he hisses.

He expects you to get defensive, maybe even offended. After all, no one likes having their work challenged. But instead, you just sigh.

You look down at your desk, grabbing the stylus and twirling it between your fingers. The light reflects off the smooth surface, glinting off the tip of the tool, and the movement is almost hypnotic. He has to force himself to look away, to focus on your face.

For the first time since he barged into your classroom, he notices the tiredness in your eyes. It's subtle, and he doesn't think anyone else would notice, but the way your shoulders sag is a dead giveaway. You look exhausted, and Crosshair suddenly feels an odd pang of guilty for dropping in on you like this.

Your smile is tight when you look up at him again..

"I can explain my rationale, if you'd like," you say, and it's not a question. It's a statement.

He's not sure if he should be annoyed by that or not, but he nods regardless.

"Thank you." 

You reach for a datapad laying haphazardly across your desk and tap away for a moment, before you hold it out for him to take. His fingers brush yours as he accepts it, and the touch sends a tingle up his arm. He tries not to show it, though, and busies himself by looking over the file as you speak.

"I know Omega has been struggling in my class, and I've done everything I can to make sure she has the support she needs. But, unfortunately, there's not a lot I can do when the curriculum is so..."

You pause, and he raises an eyebrow. "So what?"

"Well, it's not exactly tailored for her," you finish, and the small laugh you let out is strained. You shrug, a gesture that's supposed to be nonchalant, but he can see the tension in your shoulders.

He hums, nodding along as you continue to talk.

"I don't usually get students like Omega, you know? Kids who've already seen the world and have lived through so much more than their peers. And that's great, I mean, it's awesome. She's a brilliant kid, and she has such a great sense of herself, but I'm not equipped to handle a student like her."

Crosshair stops scrolling, his thumb hovering over the screen. He looks up at you, and you're staring back, chewing on your bottom lip.

He swallows the lump in his throat and nods. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means..." You trail off, letting out a sigh and shaking your head. You look away, turning to stare out the window behind you. The sun is setting, and the last rays of the day are reflecting off the buildings in the distance, bathing the room in an orange glow.

He watches the way the light illuminates your face, highlighting the curves and lines. It's not the first time he's found himself admiring the way someone looks, but it's the first time it's left him feeling like his heart's about to burst out of his chest.

It's not until you turn back to face him, the light fading, does he realize he's been holding his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was I saying?" you ask, and he's not sure if it's the lighting or his imagination, but he swears there's a faint flush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

"You were talking about the report," he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

You blink. "Oh, right. Of course." You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter, and Crosshair has to remind himself not to lean in. "I graded the report based on how she did against the curriculum."

"Which is stupid."

"Yeah, I know." You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and Crosshair tracks the movement. "But it's how it works, unfortunately. We have a certain set of standards we have to abide by, and unfortunately, Omega's interpretation of the story was outside those standards."

"So? Her analysis is solid, and you know it," he says.

"It is," you agree, and the corner of your mouth twitches up into a half-smile. Your eyes are soft and full of understanding, and Crosshair has to look away.

"Her argument was well-researched, and her points were valid," you say, and it's with an apologetic tone. "But she also failed to follow directions."

Crosshair blinks.

That's not right.

"What?"

"She was asked to write a report on her thoughts and opinions on a classic work, and her interpretation of the story was excellent, but..."

"But what?" He knows he's being defensive, and he's not sure why, but the thought of you grading her unfairly, giving her a low score because of something that was his fault, makes his blood boil.

He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, folding his arms and forcing himself to relax.

You don't seem bothered by his attitude, though. In fact, you just smile at him.

"Well, she did a wonderful job of explaining her interpretation, but she failed to stick to the author's original meaning," you explain. "And while I understand why she was interpreting the text the way she was, and I'm happy she's able to do that, she was asked to write a paper specifically about the author's intended meaning."

Crosshair doesn't respond. He stares at you, his lips pressed together, trying his hardest to stay calm.

He has to admit, it makes sense. You're just doing your job, and the fact that you're even taking the time to explain it to him is a testament to how hard you're trying. But that doesn't make the situation any easier, and the disappointment in Omega’s voice when she'd shown him her report earlier that day is still fresh in his mind.

"It doesn't change the fact that she's brilliant," you say, interrupting his train of thought.

He snaps his head up, staring at you, and the expression on your face is almost...tender. You're not just saying it to placate him, or to try and get him to leave. No, you mean it. He didn't realize just how much you cared about his sister, and he's taken aback by how sincere you are.

"Omega is an incredibly intelligent young woman, and I am in awe of her every day." You lean forward, your elbows resting on the desk. You're smiling, but there's a hint of sadness in your eyes, and the way you speak, the words that spill out of your mouth, are genuine. "I can't begin to imagine the things she's been through, and I know that's not an excuse for how difficult I've been, but I'm sorry. I really am."

The anger he'd been holding onto melts away, replaced by a strange mixture of pride and confusion. He's proud that you care so much about Omega, and confused by how much it seems to affect him. He'd expected you to be stubborn, maybe even rude. But this? This isn't anything like the image he'd conjured up in his mind.

It's...

Nice.

"So, what now?" he asks.

"Well," you start, and the smile on your face turns mischievous, "you're welcome to challenge my grade. You can go to the school board, or we can go to the principal's office. You could even submit a formal complaint, or—"

"No," he interrupts, and his cheeks flush when he realizes how fast the word came out. He clears his throat, trying to compose himself, and says, "I meant, what do we do? To help her?"

"Oh." You blink, clearly surprised.

He's not sure why. Does he come off as the type of person who would file a formal complaint over a grade?

Probably, actually.

"Right," you say, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. "Well, there's not a lot we can do. This was her last chance to make up for her last test score, and I'm afraid she'll have to repeat the class next year."

"There has to be something you can do," he insists. The words fall out of his mouth before his brain catches up, and he's already cringing internally at how desperate he sounds.

"Look," you sigh. "You're not the first parent to come in here at the end of the semester and ask me to raise a grade. But, if I raised Omega's grade, then I would have to raise the grades of everyone else who turned in a similar report. And I can't do that."

"You can't be serious," he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I am," you say, an edge to your voice. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Life's not fair."

"Yeah, no kidding." You huff a humorless laugh. Your lips purse, and he can tell you're holding back a glare. 

He knows he's pushing his luck, and he's starting to feel like an idiot, but he can't help himself.

"You can't honestly tell me that there's nothing we can do."

Your eyes flicker away from his, and your gaze drifts down to the datapad. He can see your mind working, can see the gears turning as you mull over your options. You chew on your lower lip, and Crosshair tries not to stare, but it's a struggle.

He's never met someone who could have him going from angry to intrigued in the span of a few minutes, and he's not sure why he's so fixated on you. Maybe it's the way you're not afraid to stand your ground against him, or maybe it's the fact that you seem genuinely concerned about his sister's wellbeing. Or maybe it's just the way you look, with your bright eyes and kind smile, and the way you're clearly trying your best to make a difference.

Whatever it is, it's working.

"There is one thing," you say, after what feels like an eternity.

"What?"

You take a deep breath, as if bracing yourself, and meet his eyes.

"I can't raise her grade, but I could offer her some extra credit, if she'd like. It's not a guarantee, and I'd have to see her improvement before I decided to give her the points, but it's an option."

"Yes." The word slips out before he can stop himself, and he mentally curses at his own eagerness.

You arch an eyebrow.

"She'd like that." He clears his throat and forces himself to sound casual, unbothered. "If you're willing."

"Of course." You smile at him, and the warmth that spreads through his chest is...weird. But not unpleasant.

He's not sure what he did to deserve that look, that smile, but he decides he doesn't hate it.

"I'll tell her," he says, and he gets to his feet.

You stand as well, and the height difference between the two of you is not lost on him. He has to look down to meet your eyes, and the way you have to tilt your head up makes him feel strangely amused.

He's used to looking down at people, and most of the time, it makes him feel superior. But right now, he just feels...

Well, he doesn't really know how to describe it.

"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds foreign on his tongue. It's not something he's used to saying, especially to a stranger. He's not even sure what he's thanking you for, exactly, but it feels appropriate.

"You're welcome," you say, a grin on your face that's almost too wide, too bright, too much. "Oh, one more thing."

He hums, and you take a step closer around the desk. You're a foot or so away from him, close enough that he can smell the perfume you use, the floral scent filling his senses. He swallows hard and tries to ignore the way his pulse is racing.

You're not making this easy for him.

"We had a chaperone drop out last minute for the end of the year field trip," you explain. "If you have the time, would you be interested in helping me out? We're going to the spaceport museum."

Crosshair has no interest in a bunch of kids running around a museum, and he's about to decline, but the look on your face stops him.

The pleading look in your eyes, the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the slight pout of your lips. He knows what you're doing, and he doesn't like it. He's not the kind of man who caves to pretty girls asking him for favors, and he's definitely not going to cave now.

He's stronger than this. He can resist the urge. He's a trained soldier, a skilled marksman, and he's not about to give in to the will of a cute teacher.

He's stronger than this.

"I'll do it," he hears himself say.

Fuck.

"Perfect." Your eyes light up, and your smile widens. You're practically beaming, and it's like looking directly at the sun. "I'll send you the details. Thank you, Crosshair. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," he says, struggling to think of a clever response, but coming up empty. He doesn't have a chance to say anything else before you're practically shoving him out the door.

When he turns back to face you, he sees you wave, and then the door is shut, and you're gone.

The silence of the hallways is suddenly too much, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

He's in trouble.

The trip is a nightmare.

It's not your fault. If anything, you've gone above and beyond to keep the kids in line. Crosshair's watched you run after them, chasing them through the exhibit and reminding them that they're not allowed to touch things. And, for the most part, the kids are well-behaved. There are a handful of them that seem to have a problem listening, but you've got the rest under control.

He has to hand it to you. It's impressive, and a little endearing, how hard you're trying. He knows you're exhausted, can see it in the way your shoulders sag when the kids start talking over you, can see it in the way you sigh when one of them pushes their way past you.

But the kids are bored, and he can't blame them. It's a pretty lame field trip, and he doesn't really understand the point of bringing them here. What is a museum, anyway, if not a place to look at cool, old ships?

So far, all they've done is look at boring, historical texts, and listen to you drone on about the importance of space travel and the role its played in storytelling throughout the galaxy.

The whole thing is dull, and he doesn't have the patience for this. He wants to go home and do literally anything else, and if he has to listen to one more kid whine about being bored, he's going to scream.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

Really, he's not bored.

In fact, he's quite the opposite.

He's fascinated.

It's the way you speak, the passion and excitement in your voice. He finds himself watching the way your lips move, the way your eyes sparkle with amusement. It's the same sparkle they had the other night, when he'd confronted you in the classroom. It's the same one that's been haunting him for the past week, and it's the reason why he's stuck here, in a crowded museum, surrounded by dozens of prepubescent teenagers, all while his brothers are back at home, probably having fun without him.

And, as if things weren't already bad enough, you're wearing the cutest outfit he's ever seen. It's a dress, the kind that flows down to your ankles, and it's got tiny flowers all over it. Your hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, tied back with a pink ribbon, and it swishes back and forth as you walk.

Crosshair's not usually one for dresses, and he's definitely not a fan of the color pink. But on you? It works.

It's almost unfair, really.

No, it's extremely unfair.

He's spent the entire day stealing glances at you, trying his best not to be obvious, and Omega is catching onto him. She keeps smirking at him, her eyes narrowed, and he's pretty sure she's been teasing him. He'll get caught staring at you, and she'll elbow him in the ribs and wink at him.

It's annoying, and he hates it.

Not as much as he hates himself, though.

Because he knows better. He knows it's wrong, knows it's stupid, and yet, he can't seem to stop himself.

And the worst part is, you don't even seem to notice. You're so busy trying to keep the kids in check, to keep them from causing a scene, that you're not paying any attention to him. He's grateful for that, because he's not sure how he'd handle the embarrassment.

But, at the same time, he wishes you would look at him. Just once. Just a quick glance, a tiny smile, a small nod. Something.

He sighs.

It's been a long day, and he's tired.

He's standing near the entrance, keeping an eye on the group of students, Omega included. They're currently huddled around a holoexhibit, and he watches as you answer their questions and explain the significance of each ship. You have the patience of a saint, and he has no idea how you do it. The questions they're asking are ridiculous, and a few of them are just flat out wrong.

Crosshair's tempted to go over and tell them how stupid they are, to get them to give you a break, but he refrains. He's not supposed to be getting involved, after all. This is your job, and he's just here to make sure the kids stay safe.

But he's not about to let them cause a scene.

A flash of metal catches his attention, and he frowns. One of the kids, a Rodian, is standing on a platform, and his hand is hovering over a lever. Crosshair doesn't need to read the label to know what the kid is thinking. He's been watching this one eye this exact display all morning, and he's been waiting for him to finally get brave enough to try his luck.

The kid reaches out, and before he can touch the lever, Crosshair strides across the room. He grabs his wrist, his grip firm, and pulls his hand away. The Rodian squawks in surprise, and Crosshair glares down at him. He's not tall, not for a Rodian, and it's easy for Crosshair to loom over him.

"Don't touch that," he growls.

"I-I wasn't gonna," the kid stammers, and his eyes dart towards the exit. He looks ready to bolt, and Crosshair would find it funny if it weren't for the way the rest of the kids are staring at him.

"Bullshit."

"Language," you scold, and Crosshair turns his head to see you approaching him, an exasperated look on your face. You have your hands on your hips, and you look like you're ready to lecture him instead of the kid who was about to activate the simulator without permission.

He raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you.

"You shouldn't swear in front of children," you say, your tone matter-of-fact.

"Well, maybe they shouldn't touch shit that's not theirs," he retorts, and he shoots the kid a pointed look.

"Crosshair!"

You're glaring at him now, and he knows he should feel bad, but he doesn't. He can't. Your cheeks are flushed, and your brows are furrowed, and you're trying so hard to look stern and serious, but it's not working. He's not sure why, but seeing you angry is a lot more appealing than it should be.

It makes him want to push your buttons.

"If I catch you touching this again, I'll throw you out," he warns the kid, and he lets go of his wrist. "Got it?"

The kid nods, and then he's dashing back to the rest of the group, a look of fear on his face.

"What is wrong with you?" you demand, and Crosshair looks down at you, fighting the urge to smirk. You're still glaring at him, but the flush on your cheeks is a shade darker now, and he can't help but feel a little proud of himself.

"I'm just doing my job," he says, and the smirk he'd been fighting is making its way onto his face now.

Your eyes widen. "Your job is to make sure the kids are safe, not threaten them."

"I wasn't threatening him," he scoffs.

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you—"

"Okay, fine, maybe I was. A little," he admits, and you shake your head, a huff escaping you. The glare falls away, and the look on your face is softer now, a little less annoyed, and a lot more amused.

"I had it handled," you tell him, and there's a hint of teasing in your tone now, too.

"Yeah, it looked like it."

"Crosshair," you warn, but the corners of your lips are twitching upwards, betraying the seriousness of your voice.

"What? I'm just trying to help," he says, and the shrug he gives is a little more smug than it should be.

Crosshair isn't trying to antagonize you, not really. He's just...testing the waters, he supposes. Seeing how far he can push you, seeing how much you can take before you crack, and he has to admit that you're holding up pretty well so far. Most people would've told him off, or stormed off by now, but not you.

No, you're still here.

You're standing in front of him, your arms folded across your chest, trying your very best not to smile at him.

You're enjoying this.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and he has to force himself to breathe normally. He's not sure why that's such a revelation, but it is. You're enjoying his company, enjoying the back-and-forth, and it makes him feel lighter than air.

"Are you always this much of an ass?" you ask, and his eyes widen at the sudden vulgarity, but he recovers quickly. He likes it, actually. The bluntness, the honesty. It's refreshing, and a lot more than he expected from you.

Crosshair smirks. "Now who's swearing in front of children?"

"They're not paying attention."

"Oh, right, because the exhibit on the history of intergalactic trade is so exciting," he says, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Yeah, you're not wrong," you admit, and he chuckles.

"I know."

"Of course you do," you mutter sarcastically. But, the annoyance has faded, and there's a smile on your face as you turn to look at the kids, so Crosshair considers it a win.

You stand there, next to him, your arms folded, and you watch as the kids slowly make their way through the exhibit. They're talking among themselves, completely oblivious to the exchange between the two of you. It's a bit of a relief, because he's not sure what they would make of the fact that he's flirting with their teacher.

Is he flirting?

No, that's not right.

He's not flirting.

He's just being...friendly. He's just making conversation, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's not his fault that you're easy to talk to.

Omega is the only one looking in his direction, and he doesn't miss the grin on her face. He shoots her a look, a warning, and she winks at him. He glares, and she sticks her tongue out.

Great.

He's definitely going to hear about this later.

"You're not exactly what I was expecting," you say quietly. 

Crosshair looks back at you, his heart skipping a beat when he realizes just how close you are. You're standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and you're looking up at him, the same sparkle in your eyes as before. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, and you seem...pleased.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asks, and he's almost afraid to know the answer.

"A good thing, of course." You nudge him playfully with your elbow, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity up his arm. "I'm glad I was wrong."

"Yeah, me too."

You laugh at that, and he smiles, more than a little pleased with himself. It's an unexpected, but pleasant, reaction, and he finds himself wanting to make you laugh again.

"Anyway," you say, taking a step back. "Thanks for keeping the kids in line. I really appreciate it."

He shrugs. "It's nothing."

"No, really." You look up at him, your eyes bright, and you give him a sympathetic smile. "I know this isn't exactly what you signed up for."

"It's not so bad."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

"I mean, it's boring as hell," he admits, and the way your nose scrunches up as you laugh is adorable. He clears his throat and tries to focus. "But it's not awful. The company's...bearable."

You tilt your head to the side, and your eyes narrow. "Thanks, I think."

"Don't mention it."

"So," you start, a slight hesitation in your voice, "does this mean you're not going to file a complaint against me?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Crosshair teases. The way your eyes widen is enough to make him chuckle. "But I guess I can let it slide. For now."

"For now," you repeat, and you let out a breath. You shake your head and look up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "Well, I'll take it. Now, let's get back to the kids, shall we?"

"After you," he says, gesturing for you to lead the way.

He follows after you, and he tries his best not to stare at the sway of your hips as you walk. He fails, but only a little bit.

And, if he catches you glancing back at him every so often, well, he's not complaining.

Omega is practically bouncing on her heels as they make their way down the street, heading home from the school. She's talking a mile a minute, her eyes bright, and she's still somehow full of energy despite the long day they've had. Crosshair can't quite keep up with her, and he's having trouble focusing on her words. He has no idea how you manage to do this every day, and he feels a little bad for thinking that teaching is an easy job.

She's going on about the trip, how much fun she had, and she's not slowing down. Crosshair doesn't mind, though. He's content to listen to her, and he's not going to stop her from gushing about her day. He does the same thing for her he’s always done for Tech, humming and nodding in the right places, and he knows that it makes her feel good to talk.

Besides, he's too distracted by his own thoughts to focus on what she's saying.

He's spent the last hour replaying the events of the day in his mind, trying to make sense of everything. The way you'd looked at him, the way you'd laughed, the way you'd teased him. It's all a little overwhelming, and he's not sure how to process it.

Crosshair isn't the kind of person who gets all worked up over a pretty girl. He’s not even the kind of person who gets all worked up, period.

But something about you, the way you carry yourself, the way you smile, the way you look at him. It's different.

You're different.

He doesn't know what to do with that information, and he's not sure he likes it. For all he knows, you're just being nice, just trying to be polite so he doesn’t give you a hard time. It wouldn't be the first time someone's done that.

Crosshair has been told his whole life that he's difficult to deal with, and he's learned to live with that. He's used to people being afraid of him, and he's used to people not wanting to be around him. He used to take pride in the fact that people were scared of him, but lately, it's started to wear on him.

Maybe it's because of his brothers, the way they've started to change, the way they've become softer. Or maybe it's because of Omega, the way she looks up to him, the way she trusts him, the way she thinks he's capable of great things.

Either way, he can't deny that he's a little lonely.

And maybe a little curious.

"Crosshair," Omega says, and the sharpness in her voice catches his attention. She's stopped walking, and she's giving him a look, her eyes narrowed. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" He blinks, and then he frowns. "Yeah, of course."

"Then, what did I just say?" she challenges, her hands on her hips, her head tilted up.

He pauses, and then sighs. "No, not really."

"I knew it!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up. "You were totally spacing out."

"I was not."

"Yes, you were," she argues, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Because you look like you're thinking about something."

"Nope," he lies. Crosshair turns his head away from her, pretending to look at something else. There's a few vendors pulling in their stands in front of them, closing up for the evening, and he watches them, trying to avoid Omega's gaze. The florist is packing up his display, and the bright, colorful flowers draw his attention. He tries to ignore the fact that they remind him of your dress.

"Are you sure? You seem...weird."

"I'm fine."

"Are you thinking about the field trip?" she asks, and he can hear the smugness in her voice. "About Miss—"

"Omega." He snaps his head back towards her, his eyes wide, and he gives her a warning look.

"What?" she says, feigning innocence, and he groans.

"Just drop it," he mutters, and he turns to keep walking.

"I can't," she says, following after him. She has to jog slightly to keep up with his hurried pace, but it does nothing to deter her. "You like her."

"Of course I like her. She’s nice,” he replies. His tone comes out more defensive than casual, and he grimaces internally.

"No, you really like her."

Crosshair opens his mouth, ready to defend himself. There's no way that's true. It's impossible. He barely knows you, and you're just his sister's teacher. 

Just a pretty, sweet, kind teacher who cares about her students and isn't afraid to push the boundaries to help them learn. Who didn't back down when he challenged her, and didn't hesitate to stand her ground when he was being an ass. 

Who smiles at him and looks at him like he's worth something, like he's important, like he matters. Who laughs at his pathetic attempts at humor and makes him feel like he's not a complete waste of space, like maybe there's something worthwhile inside of him after all. Like maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for him.

Shit.

He shakes his head. "You're crazy."

"Am not," she insists, and she skips in front of him, forcing him to stop. "I won't tell anyone."

"Omega—"

"You know, she's single," she continues with a knowing, smug grin, and it reminds him so much of Hunter that he has to take a deep breath and count to ten before he can speak again. And even then, he's still annoyed.

"How the hell do you know that?" he demands, his eyebrows raised.

"I overheard her talking to the other teachers during lunch," she explains, and the smugness fades, replaced by a sheepish smile.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," he chastises, though he's a little too preoccupied with the new information to put much force behind the words.

"I didn't mean to," she says with a shrug. "I was looking for her, and I found her, and they were talking about her, so..."

"So, what else did you hear?" he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested.

"Nothing."

"Omega," he warns.

"I didn't hear anything!" she insists, her eyes wide. After a beat, a smirk forms on her face, and her eyes narrow. "Why? Did you want to know something else?"

"No," he snaps, a little too quickly. "Just forget it."

"But—"

"It's not important," he says, cutting her off as he steps around her and continues walking. He hears her groan in frustration, and he smirks to himself. Serves her right.

"Wait!" She hurries after him, her hands gripping the strap of her bag tightly as she catches up. She's practically running now, trying her best to match his long strides, and her breathing is a little heavier than normal. "Crosshair, slow down."

"No."

She huffs. "I'm just saying—"

"Omega, enough."

"I think she likes you, too."

Crosshair stops walking abruptly, and Omega almost collides with him. He turns his head towards her, his eyebrows raised, and she takes a step back.

"What makes you say that?" he asks. He knows he's being foolish, letting her bait him like this, but he can't help himself. The hopeful note in her voice is hard to ignore, and he's suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic than he should.

"Because she kept looking at you," she explains.

"No, she didn't."

"Yes, she did," she argues. "She was looking at you, like, the entire time. The whole trip. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"You're exaggerating," he mutters, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks.

"I'm not," she says, shaking her head. "I was keeping track."

"You know, if you paid half as much attention to your schoolwork as you do to gossiping, neither of us would be in this mess," he retorts.

"Hey! That's not true," Omega pouts. "I learned everything I need to know about intergalactic trade from Tech. I'm good."

Crosshair can't help but smile at that, and Omega grins back at him. They start walking again, this time a little slower, and she reaches for his hand, grabbing hold of his fingers.

"But you like her, right?" she asks, tilting her head up at him.

"She's...nice," he admits, and the look on her face tells him that's not enough. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his prosthetic hand. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You should ask her out."

"Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I barely know her."

"So? Just get to know her," Omega says, and he sighs.

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Crosshair hesitates, trying to think of a reason. The truth is, he's never really had to deal with this kind of situation. He's not exactly the best when it comes to social interactions, and his history with romantic relationships is...limited. It's not something he's ever bothered to think about, but now that it's staring him in the face, he feels woefully unprepared.

"What if she says no?"

"Well, what if she says yes?"

Crosshair doesn't respond. If he's being honest, he hadn't even considered the possibility of you saying yes. He'd been so focused on the negative outcome, the embarrassment, the awkwardness, that he'd completely forgotten about the other side of the equation. What if you did say yes? What would he do then? Would he be happy? Relieved? Or would he be even more nervous than before?

"I don't know," he finally admits.

"You should ask her," Omega urges. "At least, think about it."

"Maybe," he says, and she frowns, clearly not satisfied with the answer. He sighs, and then gives her hand a squeeze. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," she grumbles, and the two of them continue walking, falling into a comfortable silence. It's quiet between them all the way to the front door, and he's almost home free, his hand hovering over the sensor pad, when Omega speaks up.

"I'm just saying," she starts, and he groans, "you should go for it."

"I'm done having this conversation," he grumbles as he tugs her inside, slamming the door behind him. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, and he freezes, holding fast to her wrist.

"You have to promise not to tell them."

"Okay, okay, I promise," she says, rolling her eyes, and she tugs her arm away.

"No, not okay," he says. "If you tell them, I'll kill you."

"Okay, fine," she huffs, and he narrows his eyes at her.

"I'm serious," he says, his tone low, threatening. It doesn't work on Omega, not anymore, and she just looks up at him, unbothered.

"So am I."

"Fine." Crosshair sighs, deflating, and then, before he can stop himself, the words are spilling out. "So, what do I do?"

Omega's face lights up, a grin so wide it nearly splits her face in two, and he regrets the question almost instantly. "I'll help you."

"What?"

"I'll help you," she repeats.

"You're kidding," he deadpans.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I have a great idea. Trust me."

"Omega—"

"I promise, you won't regret it," she says, and then, she's gone, dashing off towards the kitchen where Hunter and Wrecker are arguing about dinner.

Crosshair watches her go, and then, with a groan, he drags his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

The next few weeks are a blur. Omega's been keeping him busy, asking him to help her with homework, walking her to and from school, and the whole time, he's wondering when she's going to bring up her big plan.

She managed to get a score high enough on her extra credit in your class to pull her grade up, and Hunter nearly fell over when he found out. You'd sent a letter home with her, letting them know how impressed you were, and both Hunter and Wrecker wouldn't shut up about it for days. Omega's been bragging about it, too, and Crosshair's heard her go on about how smart and amazing and brilliant and perfect you are, over and over again.

She hasn't brought up her big plan again, though, and Crosshair's grateful. She has, however, started dropping hints here and there, meddling in ways that she shouldn't, and it's getting old, fast. 

He's already had to stop her from inviting you over for dinner, twice, and he's not sure how much longer he can keep her from blowing his cover. More than once, Omega's forgotten her datapad at home, and he's had to drop everything to run it to the school. It's a pain in the ass, but at least it gives him an excuse to see you.

And he sees you, a lot more than he should.

He tries not to get too excited about it, tries not to think too hard about what it means, but it's impossible. Omega's made it her mission to get the two of you alone together, and he can't help but feel a bit like a pawn in her scheme, one that she refuses to share with him. Not that it matters, because it's working.

You're talking to him.

In fact, the two of you have spent so much time together over the last few weeks, that it's almost weird when he doesn't see you. Every morning, when he drops Omega off at school, he makes sure to walk her inside. You're always there, and he doesn't miss the way you look up when the door opens or the way you smile when you see him. You're usually sitting at your desk, grading papers, or helping a student, and he's quick to leave before anyone notices how long he's standing there. 

But every once in a while, when he's lucky, you're standing at the front of the room, and the two of you are able to exchange a few words. It's nothing too special, and it's not as if you're exchanging life stories or anything, but it's enough. It's more than he could've hoped for, and it's better than the alternative, which is absolutely nothing. He even brought you coffee one day, after you'd stayed late to work on a project with Omega, and you'd blushed.

Blushed.

For him.

Crosshair would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed that. It's nice, having someone to talk to, and it's nice, being able to see you smile. Even if it's only for a minute or two, and even if his brothers are constantly giving him shit for it.

He's not an idiot. He knows they're all watching him, waiting to see how this plays out, and he's doing his best not to give them any ammunition. Omega's already told him, several times, that they're rooting for him, and he's not sure how to feel about that. The last thing he needs is everyone butting into his business, and he's hoping that Omega will keep her word and keep her mouth shut.

He's not going to say anything, not until he's absolutely sure. And, even then, he'll probably wait. The only problem is, he's almost certain he's run out of time.

Crosshair has been keeping a mental countdown, counting down the days until Omega's finished with school, and it's come up a lot sooner than he'd expected. The semester is over, and it's officially summer vacation, which means you're no longer Omega's teacher. And with that, comes an end to whatever small shred of hope he'd had that something might happen, that whatever plan Omega had in mind would work, and the two of you would end up together.

Which is fine.

Really, it's fine.

He's not hurt. He's not disappointed. He's not anything. He doesn't care, not one bit, and he definitely isn't sulking, not at all, because that would be ridiculous.

It's just a crush. A silly, stupid, fleeting thing, and it's not worth getting upset about. It's not like anything would've happened between the two of you. You're way out of his league, and he knows that.

But still.

He can't deny that he misses the daily interaction, the brief exchanges, the occasional smiles. He can't deny that he'd enjoyed it, and now that it's over, he feels a little lost. 

He jumped at the chance to go to the summer festival with everyone, partly because he didn't want to be home alone, and partly because he was hoping to run into you there. Which is stupid, and foolish, and pathetic, but he can't help himself. He'd overheard you telling Omega that you'd be there, and it's the closest thing he has to a sign, and so, he's taking it.

Besides, Hunter practically ordered him to go, so it's not like he had a choice.

So, here he is, standing off to the side, watching the rest of the family enjoying themselves. It's still early, and the real festivities won't begin until the sun starts to set, but everyone is already in a good mood. He tries his best not to ruin it with his attitude, but he knows he's doing a shitty job of it, and it doesn't help that they're teasing him relentlessly.

"You're moping."

Crosshair sighs and rolls his eyes as Hunter bumps him with his elbow. He's been standing next to him, staring out into the crowd, and he doesn't turn his head when his brother speaks.

"No, I'm not," he replies.

"Yes, you are," Hunter says. He takes a sip of his drink, and then, nudges him again. "Is this about your girlfriend?"

"Shut up," Crosshair grumbles, and he elbows him back, a little harder than necessary. Some of Hunter’s drink spills, and he feels a small flash of satisfaction.

"Ow."

"Leave me alone," he says, and Hunter snorts.

"No, I'm not gonna do that," Hunter says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's too easy."

Crosshair groans, and turns his head away, trying his best to ignore him. It doesn't work.

"Come on, just ask her out," Hunter urges, and Crosshair glares at him.

He can hear Wrecker snickering behind him, and when he turns around, the look on his face tells him everything he needs to know. He must've been listening in the whole time.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Hunter continues.

"I could make an idiot out of myself," Crosshair replies.

"So? You already do that every day," Wrecker jokes, and he winces when Hunter smacks him.

"Not helping," Hunter mutters, and Wrecker just shrugs.

"Look," Hunter says, turning back towards him, "if she says no, at least you'll know, and you can stop worrying about it."

Crosshair doesn't respond, too caught up in the sight of you weaving your way through the crowd. You're wearing a sundress, a cute little thing that ends just above your knees, and a flower crown sitting atop of your head, and he can't take his eyes off of you. 

You're walking with Omega's art teacher, a Rutian Twi’Lek laden with jewelry, talking and gesturing animatedly. She has her hands full with decorations for the festival, and you're trying to help, but she keeps shooing you away. He can see the pout on your face, and he can't help but smile, just a little, and then you turn your head and catch Crosshair staring.

He doesn't have time to look away.

He doesn't even have time to try.

Instead, he watches, frozen, as your eyes lock with his. Your face lights up, a bright smile on your lips, and you wave at him. He feels his hand lift in acknowledgement despite himself, and he can't stop the way his lips quirk up into a half-smile. 

He can see Omega trailing after the two of you, a stack of posters in her hands, and she's saying something, but he can't hear her. The only thing he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears, and the only thing he can see is you, your face flushed, and a look in your eyes that's far too soft for him to know what to do with.

"Wow," Hunter says, breaking the spell, and he blinks, the image of you in front of him fading, replaced by his brother's annoying smirk.

"What?"

"I knew you liked her, but I didn't know it was this bad," Hunter says.

"Oh, come on," Wrecker teases, a big grin spreading across his face. "He's in love."

Crosshair can't stop the growl of frustration that leaves him, and the sound makes his brothers laugh. He wants to shove them, or punch them, or something, but he doesn't have the chance.

You’re walking over.

You're heading in their direction, and Crosshair panics, unsure of what to do. He doesn't know how to be anything other than aloof and rude, and he's afraid he'll say something stupid and embarrass himself. He doesn't want to mess this up, and he's terrified he'll ruin everything if he says the wrong thing.

He looks at Hunter, a desperate plea in his eyes, but his brother is no help. Instead, he just smirks and shrugs, nudging Wrecker.

"We should go check on Omega," he says, his tone is casual. "C'mon, Wrecker."

Wrecker doesn't argue, and he doesn't hesitate, following Hunter without a word. Before he can blink, they're gone, and it's just the two of you. Crosshair's not sure if it's better or worse.

"Hi," you say, your voice soft as you come to a stop in front of him.

Your cheeks are flushed, and you're fidgeting. He finds it endearing, and the fact that you're just as flustered as he is makes him feel a little bit better.

"Hey," he says, his voice coming out a bit raspier than he'd intended. He clears his throat, and then nods towards your companion. "Are you having fun?"

You tilt your head and look back over your shoulder, and Crosshair doesn't miss the slight roll of your eyes.

"Yeah, I'm having a blast," you deadpan, and he can't help but laugh. He's grown used to your particular brand of sarcasm over the past few weeks, the kind that only seems to come out when he's around, and he's come to enjoy the way it sounds when it's aimed at someone else.

"Don't worry," he says, "we can be miserable together."

"Well, that's not very festive," you reply, and there's a teasing edge to your voice. "What did the festival ever do to you?"

"Nothing, I just don't like people."

"Fair enough," you say with a laugh. "So, what brings you here?"

"Omega."

"Ah." You nod, and a soft smile forms on your face. "Of course. She told me you'll be helping us out later. Thanks, by the way."

Crosshair raises an eyebrow.

This is news to him.

"Uh, yeah," he says slowly, his eyes narrowing. "What did she say, exactly?"

"She said you'd be helping with the games." You tilt your head and look up at him, confusion in your eyes. "Is that...not true?"

He stares back at you, unsure of what to say. He's never agreed to anything like that, and the idea of working with children is...unappealing, to say the least. He can't imagine why Omega would've said that.

The realization hits him, and his eyes widen.

That little brat.

She set him up.

She's been planning this, and he was too distracted with moping to realize it. He'd let her walk all over him, and now, he's going to have to play along. Because there's no way in hell he's going to tell you the truth, not now, not when you're looking up at him, expectant and hopeful.

"Yeah, no," he lies, shaking his head. "She's right. I'll be there."

"Great," you say, and he's pretty sure you actually mean it. "I'm running the scavenger hunt. And, if you wanted, I could use a partner."

Crosshair blinks, brain stuttering over the word partner, and he must look like an idiot, because you start to backtrack.

"But, you probably have better things to do. I'm sure there's someone else who would love to help. I just thought—"

"No, no, I'll help," he interrupts, and you stop, giving him a grateful look.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Your smile is so bright, so radiant, that it makes his heart ache. He can't remember the last time someone was this happy to spend time with him. He's not used to feeling wanted, and the knowledge that you enjoy his company fills him with a sense of pride he's not quite prepared for.

"But," he starts, his eyebrows raised, "you owe me."

"I know, I know," you say with a laugh. "Anything you want."

"I'm serious," he insists, though the smirk on his face betrays his words. "I'm doing this under duress. I'm being held against my will."

"I'll make it worth your while," you tease, and the way your eyes flash, the playful look in them, is almost enough to make him forget how to breathe. He tries not to focus on it, tries not to dwell on the way his mind immediately goes to some very interesting places, but it's a losing battle. He's sure his cheeks are red, and the knowing look in your eyes doesn't help.

"Uh," he says, his voice strangled, and he has to clear his throat again before he can continue. "Good.”

"Good," you repeat, and the smile on your face turns shy. You take a step back, and then another, and the look in your eyes is...different, softer, and a little more vulnerable. It makes his stomach twist. "Well, I should probably go. But, I'll see you later, right?"

He nods, and you grin. You wave goodbye and walk away, and Crosshair watches you go, a small smile on his face. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at himself, but he can't stop smiling. It's a dumb thing to be happy about, but it's nice, knowing that you're looking forward to seeing him. And the way you'd looked at him, the hopeful look in your eyes, the shyness, the blush on your cheeks. He can't stop thinking about it.

It's just a crush, and it'll go away eventually. It's just a silly little thing, and it'll fade away. You'll be gone, and he'll be left behind, and everything will go back to normal. He'll get over it.

But, as he stands there, watching you laugh and smile and talk to the others, the sight of you making him feel things that he's not quite ready to admit, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want it to.

By the time the sun sets, the courtyard is packed. The vendors have all set up their stalls, the games have begun, and the music is blaring. Crosshair stays close to Wrecker, using his bulk to help him avoid the crowds, and does his best to ignore the children running around. Wrecker's not much help. He keeps wandering off, getting distracted by the food or the games, and Crosshair is left to wander around alone.

It's not all bad, though.

He's able to keep an eye on Omega, and that's enough to keep him occupied. He knows she can take care of herself, but it's hard for him to relax when she's not within eyesight. And, every once in a while, you catch his eye. You're busy, running from place to place, and he knows that you don't have time to stop and chat, but the small, shy smiles that you give him are enough to put him at ease.

It's a nice distraction, and it helps him stay focused, which is a good thing. Because, before he knows it, it's time for the scavenger hunt. Omega drags him over to the table where you’re waiting, and he can't help but smile at the enthusiasm in your voice.

"I'm so glad you could make it," you say, and the look in your eyes tells him that you really mean it.

At his side, Omega looks far too proud of herself. Crosshair narrows his eyes at her, and she gives him a toothy grin in return.

"Me too," he mutters, and you laugh.

"Come on," you say, grabbing a basket from the table. "Let's get started."

Crosshair nods, and he stands back as you hand out datapads and explain rules to the crowd that’s formed around them. He's not paying attention. He's watching you, listening to your voice, enjoying the way you look in the light of Pabu’s setting sun, and it's a nice moment. That is, until Omega elbows him, and he startles.

"What?"

“She likes you," she whispers conspiratorially, her hand cupped over her mouth.

"Shut up," he hisses.

Omega giggles, and he glares at her, but it does nothing to wipe the smirk from her face.

"I'm not talking to you," he growls.

"Yeah, you are," she says, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Before he can say anything, you announce that the scavenger hunt has started, and the kids are off. Omega joins the crowd, and soon, she's lost among the swarm of children running past them. Crosshair watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed, and then, he turns his attention to you.

You're smiling, waving at the kids, and he can't take his eyes off of you. This was a bad idea. He should've said no. He should've done something, anything, but instead, he'd let himself get roped into helping, and now, he's standing here, watching you, wishing he had the courage to just say something, and it's driving him crazy.

"Thanks again for helping," you say, turning towards him, and he startles, caught off guard.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," he replies. "I was going to be here anyway."

"Yeah, Omega mentioned that."

Crosshair nods, and the two of you settle into an awkward silence. He shifts on his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he stares out into the crowd. You're quiet beside him, and the longer the silence lasts, the more uncomfortable he becomes.

It's not like you to be so quiet. Usually, you're chatting his ear off, asking him questions, trying to get him to open up, and the fact that you haven't said a word is concerning. You’re shuffling datapads and small trinkets around as if looking for something to keep yourself busy, and he's starting to wonder if he's done something wrong.

He's trying not to worry about it, but the longer the silence stretches, the more his mind races. He knows he's overthinking, and the more he thinks about it, the more anxious he becomes.

It's just a crush, he reminds himself.

He doesn't want anything from you. He doesn't need anything from you. He doesn't expect anything from you. But, as he stands there, trying not to dwell on the way his heart is racing, the way his stomach is twisting, the way his breath catches in his throat, he can't help but feel like a bit of an idiot.

He can't help but wonder if you've figured him out. 

Maybe you know, and that's why you're acting so strange. Maybe you can tell, and you're waiting for him to make the first move. Maybe you're nervous, or maybe, you just don't want him to say anything, because you don't feel the same way, and that's why you're keeping your distance. He knows that's a long shot, but it doesn't stop his brain from fixating on the thought. He can't help but think about how much worse it'll be if you do know.

So, he stands there, and the silence stretches on, tension thick in the air as you cast glances at each other. 

It's not until a couple of kids come up and ask for help with the next clue that the tension breaks.

The two of them are young, maybe eight or nine, and they're struggling. They're a cute pair, brother and sister, and they remind him a lot of his siblings. Their parents are nowhere in sight, and they're arguing, bickering, and it’s not until you crouch down to speak to them, taking the datapad from the boy's hands, that they calm down. You explain the next clue to them, and Crosshair watches as the siblings nod, their faces lighting up with understanding.

He wants to keep watching you, but a second pair of kids approach, and then a third. He can see you’re starting to get overwhelmed, and so he picks up a datapad and gets to work.

Soon, the two of you have a rhythm. You help the younger kids while he helps the older ones, and the system seems to work. He finds himself enjoying the task, and he doesn't even realize that an hour has passed until the scavenger hunt is over and the sun has nearly set. The two of you gather up the datapads, and the kids line up in front of the table, ready to receive their prize.

They're all so excited, and they're smiling and laughing and cheering, and it's a nice sight. Crosshair has never been the biggest fan of children, but these ones aren’t so bad.

He doesn't even realize that he's smiling until Omega runs back over to him, her arms outstretched, and she flings herself at him. She grabs hold of his waist, and she squeezes him tight.

"Thanks for helping," she says, her voice muffled, and he has to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"No problem," he replies as she lets go. She's still grinning at him, her eyes bright, and he can't help but reach out and ruffle her hair. "How'd you do?"

"I won," she boasts and slaps his hand away, and he rolls his eyes, unable to keep from smirking.

"Of course you did."

"It wasn't easy," Omega continues, her eyebrows raising as she speaks slowly. "But I had a great partner."

Crosshair sighs, and he gives her a knowing look, which she ignores.

“Don’t screw this up,” she whispers, and then, before he can say anything, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the others.

You're still sitting at the table, and he takes a moment to compose himself before heading over. You're organizing the datapads, sorting them into a bag, and he takes a seat next to you.

"Thanks for the help," you say, and he nods, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Not a problem."

"You did a good job," you tell him. He ducks his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as you continue, “You’re good with them.”

"Well, you're welcome," he says, his voice low. "I have a lot of practice dealing with little brats."

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart swell. You continue sorting the datapads, and he watches you work, his eyes trailing over your features. It's not until you clear your throat that he realizes how long he's been staring.

"So, um," he begins, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he's been caught. "I was thinking..."

You look up. "Yeah?"

"You owe me."

"Huh?"

"You said anything I want," he explains, and the confusion on your face clears.

"Right," you reply, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You stop what you’re doing and turn to face him fully. "And what would that be?"

"Dinner.”

"Dinner?" you repeat, your eyebrows raised, and he nods.

"With me."

"Are you asking me on a date, Crosshair?"

"Yeah," he says, and his heart leaps into his throat when your eyes light up. "I'm asking you on a date."

"Oh," you say, a soft smile on your lips, and he can't help but mirror it. "Well, how could I say no?"

"Great," he replies, and then, after a pause, he asks, "is that a yes?"

"Yes, of course it's a yes,” you chuckle. You shake your head, and then, a teasing smile forms on your face. "Did you think I was gonna say no?"

"Uh," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was prepared for it."

You snort, and the laughter that follows is almost enough to distract him from the way his cheeks are burning. Almost. He looks away, embarrassed, but he can't help but smile.

"Sorry," you say, stifling your laughter, and he shrugs.

"It's fine."

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you," you say. You're biting your lip, trying to stop yourself from smiling, and his eyes narrow. "It's just..."

"What?"

"This whole time," you begin, and you have to bite back another laugh. "I've been trying to figure out how to ask you out."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," you admit, and the shy smile on your face is almost too much for him to handle. He can't believe what he's hearing. "I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time alone with you, but I couldn't think of anything. So, when Omega mentioned you'd be helping out, I figured it would be my chance."

Crosshair shakes his head, trying to process the words. It's a lot to take in. You've been trying to ask him out? All this time, he's been wondering, worrying, and it was all for nothing? You've wanted this, too?

"Oh," is all he can manage, and it's enough to make you laugh again.

"Yeah."

He doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. You shift next to him, and you place your hand on his arm, the contact sending sparks through his skin. Your touch is light, but it makes his breath catch, and he doesn't miss the way you smile at his reaction.

“So, do you want to watch the fireworks with me?” you ask, your voice soft.

"Yeah, sure," he says. He's trying not to let his excitement show, but judging by the grin on your face, he's not doing a very good job of it.

"Good."

He's expecting you to let go of his arm, but instead, you slide your hand down, and your fingers brush against his, a subtle gesture that makes his heart race. He turns his hand palm up, and you slide yours into it, your touch warm and gentle. His fingers curl around yours, and the smile on your face makes him feel bold.

Crosshair stands, pulling you up with him, and the two of you walk to the edge of the courtyard, hand in hand. It’s quiet now, save for the music playing over the speakers and the soft murmur of conversation, and the sky is dark. There are only a few people left nearby, mostly parents picking up their children, and no one pays the two of you any mind. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, a smile forming on his face.

You lead him down a set of steps, and the two of you make your way towards a spot overlooking the bay. The breeze is cool, and the smell of salt fills the air. Without the lanterns and torches and strings of lights, it's dark, and he can just barely see your face, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

There’s a tree behind you, and it offers a bit of privacy, and the two of you settle against it, sitting on the grass. He can see the bay spread out in front of them, and the waves crashing on the beach, a steady rhythm that helps slow his racing heartbeat. 

He's still holding your hand, and he gives it another squeeze. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and the two of you watch as the fireworks begin. The explosions are loud, and bright, and colorful, and you point out the best ones, and the ones that remind you of him, and the ones that make you laugh. And, as the fireworks continue, as the colors fill the sky, you lean closer, and he pulls you into his arms.

He's not sure how long it lasts, but the longer the fireworks go on, the closer you get, and the more content he becomes. You're sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close.

You turn your head, the movement catching his eye. Your eyes meet his, and the two of you stare at each other, and the fireworks fade away, forgotten.

"Hey," he whispers, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"Hey."

"This is nice," he says, his voice low.

"Yeah, it is."

You shift, turning towards him, and your face is so close that he can feel your breath on his lips. He knows he should wait, should give you a chance to change your mind, should give himself a chance to talk himself out of it, but he can't. 

"I—"

"Yes," you interrupt, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he has to laugh.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," he teases, and you shrug.

"I'm sure it's something good," you say. You reach up, cupping his cheek with your free hand. "Whatever it is, the answer is yes."

He can't stop the smile that forms on his face. He doesn't even try. He just leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, and he kisses you, a soft press of his lips against yours. He feels you sigh against his mouth, and his eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the kiss.

The fireworks are still going off, but he can barely hear them, and the cheers and laughter and music are distant, a soft hum that fades away. All he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and the soft sound of your breathing.

He feels you smile, and his heart races, and he has to pull back to catch his breath. He opens his eyes, and he's met with the sight of you, your face flushed, and the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.

"That was nice," you say softly, and he scoffs.

“Just nice?" he asks, half-joking and half-serious. He’s just had the best kiss of his life, and if you think it was just nice, then he's got some work to do.

"Well, maybe it was a little more than nice," you tease. The look in your eyes has him leaning in again, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips and back.

"Only a little?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Hmm, well, let's try that again," he murmurs, and you laugh, a soft breath against his lips.

"Alright."

Crosshair kisses you again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, slower, and more deliberate. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you onto his lap, and you don't hesitate to follow his lead. He runs his tongue along your lower lip, and when you moan into his mouth, he feels a thrill rush through him.

Your hands are on his shoulders, and you're straddling his lap as you kiss him back, matching his pace. The feel of your tongue sliding against, and the soft whimper you make when he bites down on your bottom lip, nearly drives him crazy. He grips your hips, and he tugs you closer, the pressure of your weight against him drawing a groan from his mouth into yours. It’s a sound so low and raw that it surprises him, but you don’t seem taken aback by it. If anything, you seem pleased, and it suddenly occurs to him that there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you.

And, for once, he's excited to learn.

He doesn't want this to end, and when you break the kiss, his lips chase yours, unwilling to part just yet. You're gasping, your breath coming in shallow pants, and he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You're right," you say, breathless. "Definitely better than nice."

Crosshair laughs, and he opens his eyes. The sight of you, your eyes dark and your cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red, is almost enough to make him let go of the fragile grasp he has on his control. He wants to kiss you again, and again, and again, but the sound of cheering startles him and reminds him of where he is.

He blinks, and he looks around, and then, he lets out a breath. The fireworks are over.

He hadn't realized.

You're still staring at him, a dazed look in your eyes, and when your lips twitch into a smirk, his grip on your hips tightens.

"Don't look at me like that," he warns, his voice raspy.

"Why not?" you ask. Your hand moves from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing against the hairs there, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Because I'm trying to be good," Crosshair explains. "And you're making it very difficult."

"I'm sorry," you say, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice that tells him you're not sorry at all.

"Don't be," he replies, and then, with a groan, he continues, "you're worth it."

Your cheeks flush, and he has to fight the urge to lean in and kiss you again. He knows if he does, he'll never be able to stop, and he'd prefer not to scandalize the locals. Or worse, have his brothers catch him in the act. So, instead, he takes a deep breath, and he moves his hands from your hips to your waist.

"Come on," he says, giving you a gentle nudge, and you pout.

"Fine," you sigh, and you give him a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off his lap. You stand and dust yourself off, and then, you offer him a hand. He takes it and lets you help him to his feet. You're still holding his hand as the two of you start walking, heading back up the stairs.

"So," you begin, breaking the silence, "when should we have that date?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve wasted enough time," Crosshair says, his tone serious, and you give him a look of understanding

"Yeah, me too."

"So, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow.”

The two of you share a smile, and he leads you back through through the courtyard. You walk slowly, and you let go of his hand, but the loss of contact is quickly forgotten when you lean into him, your shoulder brushing against his. He's tempted to wrap his arm around you, to pull you close, but the idea of having an audience for that makes his stomach turn, so he doesn't. Instead, he just enjoys the feeling of you at his side, and the easy way you fit into his space. 

It doesn’t take long to make it to the point where you part ways, and the two of you linger, neither one of you ready to leave the other.

"I guess this is goodnight," you say, your voice soft.

"I guess so."

You reach out and grab his hand, and you squeeze it, giving him a shy smile. He squeezes back, and then, without thinking, he raises your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it.

The flash of embarrassment that follows is enough to make his face heat, but it's worth it for the way your eyes light up, and the faint blush that colors your skin. You duck your head, and the small, pleased smile on your face has his heart racing.

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you say.

"Goodnight."

You turn away, and he watches you go, his eyes lingering on the sway of your hips, and the way your hair dances in the wind. You don’t make it very far before you turn around, a mischievous grin on your face.

"By the way," you begin, your voice raised, and the smirk on his face fades. "Tell Omega I said thank you.”

Crosshair's eyes narrow, and his mouth opens and closes, his mind stuttering as he tries to process the words.

Omega set him up, and you knew, and this entire night was her idea. He'd known, in the back of his mind, that she'd been plotting something, and yet, it hadn't occurred to him until now just how much that entailed.

That little brat.

He can't decide if he's proud or embarrassed. He settles for a combination of the two, and the amused look on your face tells him that he's doing a poor job of hiding his feelings.

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you call out, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"Goodnight," he calls back, his tone flat.

You wave goodbye, and then, with a final, knowing look, you turn around and walk away.

He waits until you're out of sight before letting out a groan. Crosshair runs his hand down his face, and he shakes his head, trying not to think about how many times he'd made a fool of himself tonight. His siblings were never going to let him live this down. He sighs, and then, with a roll of his eyes, he starts walking.

When he makes it home, he finds them already gathered in the living room, talking amongst themselves. Omega’s chosen a chair that faces the front door, and her head snaps over toward him as soon as he walks in. Wrecker and Hunter catch on quick, and the room falls silent, the three of them watching him.

"So, how'd it go?" Omega asks innocently.

Crosshair glares at her, his eyes narrowed. She meets his gaze, a challenging look on her face, and he closes the front door with more force than necessary.

"It went fine."

"Fine?" Wrecker repeats. "That's it?"

They’re all staring at him now, and he can feel his temper rising, the heat of embarrassment rushing to his cheeks, and his fingers twitch, aching to shoot something. He forces himself to calm down, to remind himself they’re only asking because they care. Crosshair relaxes his shoulders, his jaw unclenching, and then, he lets out a sigh.

"Yes, fine," he says, his voice low. "We're going out tomorrow."

The room erupts into cheers and laughter, and Wrecker stands, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Crosshair squirms, trying to escape, but it's useless.

"Wrecker, let him go," Hunter orders, and Crosshair breathes a sigh of relief when his brother finally releases him.

"Thanks, Wrecker," Crosshair grumbles, only to let out a grunt when Omega barrels into him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"I told you it would work," she says, and Crosshair reaches down and ruffles her hair.

"Yes, you did," he concedes, and the look of triumph on her face has him rolling his eyes. He sighs and extracts himself from her embrace, and he clears his throat. “She says thanks.”

Omega beams, and Wrecker and Hunter laugh, clapping him on the back. They congratulate him, teasing him, and he bears it as best he can, trying not to show how happy he is even as his heart races, and a warm feeling spreads through him.

He hadn't thought he'd have this again, a family, people who cared about him, and he hadn't dared to hope that he'd find something else, something more. He hadn't even known what he was missing until he met you.

And, for the first time in a long time, he's excited for the future.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams

[yyokkki]

Life as a corporate slave has you worked to the bone. Burdened with expectations from your boss, coworkers and family, you recall a faint childhood memory lost to years of data entry and drafting.

You remember the three weird uncles who'd hang out in your attic everyday at 3AM. How they'd left you an envelope before disappearing, telling you to open it up if a time ever came that you felt lost.

And so, deed in hand, you booked the next bus available and made your way over to Night Raven Valley with nothing but yourself and the clothes on your back.

What adventures await you as you farm, mine, fight and acquaint yourself with the eccentric yet strangely endearing inhabitants of the valley?

Starring:

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts as the Posh Lawyer

Pixel Art by multifandomlazywriter!

Trey Clover as the Homely Baker

Pixel Art by multifandomlazywriter!

Cater Diamond as the Bubbly Magicam Influencer

Clothing Ask

Art by sheepwater!

Ace Trappola as the Troublemaking Carpenter

Deuce Spade as the Trying-His-Best Mechanic

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar as the Grumpy Unemployed But Rich Guy

Ruggie Bucchi as the Sneaky Odd Job Runner

Jack Howl as the Prickly Botanist

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto as the Shady Saloon Owner

Jade Leech as the Shady Secretary

Floyd Leech as the Shady Security Guard

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim as the Cheerful Ranch Owner

Jamil Viper as the Dead-Inside Caretaker

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit as the Pompous Boutique Owner

Rook Hunt as the Scary Hunter

Epel Felmier as the Feral Apple Farmer

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud as the Vitamin D Deficient Game Developer

Ortho Shroud as the Local Sunshine Child

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia as the Misunderstood Wizard

Lilia Vanrouge as the Adventurer's Guild Owner

Silver Vanrouge as the Sleepy Knight In Training

Sebek Zigvolt as the Overexcited Wizard Apprentice

Staff

Dire Crowley as the Scummy Town Mayor

Divus Crewel as the Dog Loving Scientist

Mozus Trein as the Cat Loving Librarian

Ashton Vargas as the Macho Guy Who Acts Like A Gym Trainer But Is Actually the Town Blacksmith

Sam as the Playful General Store Owner

Grim as the Weird Sewer Raccoon

The Ramshackle Ghosts as the Uncles Who Haunted Your Attic

---

I don't think I'm the first one to come up with this AU but this is just my spin on it cuz I'm totally so normal about sdv and twst

I will be updating each character's general info/ headcanons slowly then maybe I'll move on to heart events for the datables (NRC students except Ortho)

All posts related to this au will be tagged #night raven valley

Asks/Requests are open for this AU

And do any of y'all have suggestions for loved/hated gifts for some of the characters? Some are obvious but I'm actually blank for some like damn I know their entire trauma but idk if they'd like malachite or not what am i supposed to do

Tag List (Interact with the linked post to be tagged in future updates mwah)

[ninii-winchester]

Timeless Love

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 3.7k

Warnings : angst, s12 ep 6 (spoilers), canon violence, mentions of demons, slight mention of john winchester, mentions of amara (slight spoiler), taylor swift reference (?), fluff. Not proofread.

Part 2 to Fleeting Love.

A/n: I don’t remember what exactly happened in that episode i just winged it.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Leaving was the hardest thing Dean had to do other than breaking Y/n's heart. He cried himself to sleep every night after seeing her looking like a shell of herself at school. He missed her smile and he missed being the reason of her smile. How could he let himself fall for someone, when he knew he could never have that kind of life. Loving her was the best and the worst decision of his life. Best because he got to know what love actually feels like and worst because he knows he'd never find anything like that ever again. He wouldn't allow himself to love anyone else in this lifetime. She was his first and last love.

Dean had left town, and Y/n was still picking up the pieces of a shattered heart. Days turned into weeks, but the ache never dulled. Every time she walked by the places they'd shared—her favorite diner, the lakeside road where they'd stargazed—the memories rushed in like a flood. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't outrun the ghost of him.

As much as she wanted to hate him, part of her would always him. He was her first love, her first kiss and her first time. Deep down she knew it had everything to do with his father but his betrayal was still fresh in her mind. She knew her Dean wouldn't do that her but she wished he'd stood against his father. She wished he would've fought for their love. If only she knew the reason he couldn't do it.

Fifteen years had come and gone, and Y/n had built a life—one filled with new memories, a different kind of happiness. But despite the time and distance, her heart remained anchored to a love she never truly let go of. It wasn't that she was stuck in the past; she had moved on in every way that mattered. Yet, in the quiet moments, when the world fell still, it was Dean's face she saw, his voice she heard, as if time had never touched the feelings she carried for him.

Y/n let out a sigh as she waited for her flight to be announced. She was going to Canada for a wake of the man who saved her life. She vividly remembered six years ago, she was coming back from work and a huge dog like creature attacked her. She wouldn't have believed had she not seen it with her own eyes. It was a werewolf.

She dug into the supernatural, surprised by the sheer amount of lore tied to what was already known. Myths, legends, and creatures she once thought were just stories had entire histories woven into the fabric of the world she knew.

Asa Fox was the one that killed the thing and rescued her. Now he was no more. She owed it him to atleast pay her final respects to him.

Hours later she landed in Canada and made her way towards Asa's mother's house. It was late at night when she arrived. She stepped inside and noticed a small crowd gathered in the living room, while others lingered in the kitchen and a few more were out in the backyard. They were all lost in conversation, sharing memories and stories of the brave hunter they had come together to mourn. The air was heavy with both grief and respect as they honored the life he'd lived.

She'd found Asa's mother and paid her condolences to her, recounting how her son had saved her life and how she looked up to him. The older woman nodded and Y/n took it as her cue to leave her alone. She walked the hallway and bumped into someone, she quickly apologised and looked up to them and all the air seemed to leave her lungs.

"You.." she choked on her words and the other person looked at her in mild confusion and threw her an anticipatory glance. "Mary Winchester." Y/n finally spoke. The older woman tried to rack her brain if she knew the woman infront of her but her mind remained blank.

Y/n had seen photos of Dean's mother in his room also in his wallet and she adored how much he loved his mother. Her mind went haywire thinking back to when he told her his mother died in a house fire. Did he lie? Why would he though? Thousands of thoughts ran into her mind as she thought back to her relationship with the Winchester. Even after fifteen years he's still vivid in her head. Did everything he tell her was a lie? Was Dean even his real name.

Y/n could feel herself hyperventilate and she immediately wanted to put space between the supposedly dead woman and herself. She went to the kitchen to grab herself some water. There were only two people in the kitchen, a woman with a pixie cut and a man taller than anyone she had ever seen. She grabbed a water bottle chugging it down and calming her heartbeat. She took a deep breath before speaking,

"Uhm sorry to intrude but, is a Mary Winchester out there?" She questioned the couple gesturing towards the hallway she came from. The man looked at her with a unreadable look in his eyes.

"Yeah." The woman responded.

Y/n sighed, — atleast I'm not going crazy. She thought to herself. But if that's Dean's mom, what on earth is she doing here?

"You're Y/n." The man said. It wasn't a question. He knew her. She craned her neck to look up at his face and she furrowed her brows.

"I'm sorry have we met before?" She questioned taking a step forward. A sad smile appeared on his face. The woman beside him looked at him expectantly waiting for his reply.

"You seriously don't remember me?" He chuckled and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but I'd remember if I had met someone as big as you." She replied leaning on the counter behind her.

"I wasn't this big when we met Y/n/n." Sam spoke and the nickname made her eyes flash with recognition but it was quickly overtaken by the hurt that came with those memories.

"Sammy." It just slipped out. She didn't mean to call him by that name, but when he called her y/n/n, it came out subconsciously. Her heart started beating loudly at the thought of his brother being here. She had never thought she'd ever meet Dean Winchester ever again and she was not ready.

Sam knew whatever happened between her and his brother hurt her more than anything and he wouldn't blame her if she up and left without a word, but he'd missed her. And he missed the man his brother was when he was with Y/n. After her, he was just a shell of a man, running on his father's commands like a soldier. Someone who seemed to let go off every emotion and just waiting for his father's next order.

Sam introduced Y/n to the woman beside him as sherrif Jody Mills and she was good friend.

"How're you Y/n?" Sam asked and she looked at him remembering the small kid she used help with homework.

"Been good. How about you?" Sam scoffed at her question. If only she knew how he's been. And how his brother's been. Coming back from the dead, hell, purgatory. She'd probably throw a chair at him for making up all this bullshit.

"Good yeah." Sam nodded. Y/n could hear footsteps approaching and prayed it wasn't who she thought it was. God knew she didn't want to see him. Maybe she hadn't been a good person, and this was her punishment, because Dean Winchester walked into the kitchen, her breath caught in her lungs.

"Sammy where the he-" Dean words got caught in his mouth as his gaze landed on her.

Y/n looked at the man she had loved and hoped that after all these years, she'd have fallen out of love with him. But one look and her heart started thudding against her ribcage. He had aged, but somehow, he was even more handsome. He was muscular now, his arms toned beneath his layers, and she could see it all. She could feel her eyes water and she didn't want to create a scene at someone's wake, she pushed past Sam and left the space with a word.

Dean stood frozen, he couldn't believe he'd run into her here of all places. The sight of her brought back a flood of memories and feelings he thought he had buried long ago. Despite the years and the changes, she was just as beautiful as he remembered. But then he wondered why was she here? Is she a relative? Does she know about the supernatural? Or worse is she a hunter?

He didn't know the answer to his questions but he knew one thing, that them meeting again after fifteen years was fate. And he'd be damned if he let go off her ever again. He'd do anything in his power to win her back because God knows he's been miserable since the minute he broke up with her. Without wasting another second Dean went behind her. He could see her going to the backyard and taking in deep breaths.

"Y/n." He said approaching her.

"Go away Dean.”

“Just hear me out once.” He pleaded.

“I don't want to hear any more of your lies." Her voice cracked as she spoke and Dean knew she was on the verge of crying.

"Lies? What lies?" He asked holding her arm and turning her to look at him. She shrugged her arm out of his grip and pulled away harshly.

"Maybe you have a bad memory Dean, fifteen years isn't that long of a time to forget about it." She snapped glaring at him. "Need I remind you of your lies? My mom died when I was four! She's inside I've seen her with my own eyes." She yelled. "I love you Y/n! And the very next day after breaking up with me I see you making out with some cheerleader. You don't do that to someone you love." She cried pushing at his chest. "You're a goddamn liar so leave me the fuck alone like you did that night at the park."

Each and every word pierced through him like a needle. It was worse than spending forty years in Hell. He knew he'd hurt her and deserved everything she threw his way, but hearing her think that he didn't love her—it just broke his heart. He never lied about his love for her.

"Y/n, baby please let me explain. I swear I'll tell you everything." He said holding her hand and she pushed him again.

"Don't touch me. And I don't need your explanations." She wiped her tears. "I'm not here for you I'm here for Asa." Dean felt a pang of jealousy at the late hunter's name and he wondered if they'd had something before he died. Is that why she's here. He completely forgot it's been fifteen years and there might be a possibility that she'd moved on. 

"How do you even know him?" He couldn't but ask. His jealousy getting the better of him.

"That is none of your concern." She retorted sharply.

"Sweetheart please hear me out." Dean begged and she moved to go back inside but the doors were locked.

"What the hell?" She tried turning the doorknob but it didn't budge. The two of them were locked out. Dean tried pushing the door but to no avail.

"Hello Dean." Dean turned to see Billie standing there and she was smirking almost evilly.

"Billie what are you doing here?" He asked the reaper. And she told him she's here to do what she does. She's here to take everyone who's inside. Dean asked her what's happening inside and she tells him a demon's got them locked inside and something about vengeance. He had to save Sam, his mom and Jody. Dean tells her to open the door for him and let him go inside, she makes him a deal to never interfere in the natural order of things and he agrees as long as she lets him inside.

"Dean what the hell is going on?" Y/n was now scared. Although she was well aware of supernatural theoretically but she was in no way prepared to fight. And demons? She didn't know those were real too.

"I'll explain later." Dean replied as calmly as possible. "Billie, I need you to keep her safe, please." Dean requested and the reaper raised her brow.

"Dean, I can either keep her safe or let you inside. I'm getting one thing out of this deal, and you're getting only one too." His jaw clenched at her words and he was internally cursing her for being a bitch.

"Fine. Get us in." He begrudgingly told the reaper and she created an opening in the door. Dean turned to Y/n and cupped her face in his large hands. "We're going in, but you gotta trust me, sweetheart. Stay by my side and I'll protect you." Y/n thought he was completely out his wits asking her to go inside a place where there's a demon.

"Time's of essence Dean." Billie commented and he glared at her. He held Y/n's hand and before she knew the two of them were inside. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Sam, Jody and his mom alive, and even the others. Sam filled him in how the demon had cut off the water supply and locked all the doors. Y/n was terrified of being locked in a house with a demon but Dean held her close to him. His hand gripping hers tightly.

They all gathered in the living room to make a devils trap to trap whoever the demon was possesing and to keep themselves safe, being inside it.

"Dean who was that outside?" Y/n questioned her voice a quiet whisper.

"That was Billie she's a reaper." Dean replied moving her into the devils trap. She looked at him wide eyed.

"A reaper? The one that takes souls?" She questioned and he nodded. "You're acquainted with a reaper? What the fuck?" Before either of them could say any further Jody accused Mary of being possessed since her was last one to come into the room.

Sam and Dean tensed at her accusation of their mom being possessed but then Mary stepped into the devil's trap and moved out proving she's not it. Then Jody started cackling evilly, saying that was clever of Mary. With a flick of her hand she wooshed the trap, then she started attacking everyone one by one taunting them. She threw the twins across the wall and then slammed Mary in the door. She moved her hand towards Y/n but Dean pushed her behind him and the demon made him fly in the wall. Y/n was left unguarded and demon closed in on her. Sam neared them but possessed Jody threw him in the cabinet.

Y/n screamed as the demon neared her she inched backwards, her body trembling with fear. Dean watched as Jody wrapped her hand around Y/n's neck, he got up on his feet and pushed Jody away from her, not too harshly to not hurt his friend's body. He wrapped his body over her, shielding her body with his' and Sam started chanting the incantation to exorcise the demon out of Jody. The twins joined them and then Mary finished it off sending the demon back to hell.

The lights flickered back on and everyone was relieved at last. Y/n clutched Dean's shirt in her hands and hid her face in his chest. "You're fine..it's gone." He rubbed her back soothingly. "Hey sweetheart, look at me." Dean made her pull away slightly and placed his fingers underneath her chin making her look at him. "You okay?" She shook her head, no.

An hour later, Y/n was wrapped up in Dean's jacket, his mind drifting off to the first time he'd lend her his jacket and how it was their new beginning. He wondered if it was a sign of their another new beginning together. She sat on the hood of the Impala and the boys stood in front of her.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That?" She looked at Sam and Dean, while Mary and Jody watched their interaction for afar. "I mean I know werewolves and Vampires but demons? Reapers?" Dean grabbed her hand and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"How'd you know about Werewolves and Vampires?" Dean asked softly and she told him how she was attacked by a werewolf and Asa saved her. And she researched a bit about the supernatural and Dean nodded in understanding. He shot Sam a glance and younger understood and left them alone.

"Sweetheart, I'll explain everything and I'll tell you why I left. You see I'm a hunter, my parents were too. I've grown up in this life. My mom did die when I was four. A demon killed her. My dad wanted us to find that demon and kill him. When I met you, I forgot all about it. I wanted to be a normal boy, I did love you with everything I had." She looked up at his eyes and they were sincere, different from when he broke her heart. It wasn't like he was holding back, or hiding something. "My dad, he didn't want you to get involved or me to lose focus. He told me that I should break your heart so you can move on with you life." Dean explained.

"I did move on with my life Dean." He shut his eyes not wanting to see the look on her face when she tells him she found someone else. "But I couldn't love anyone else. You made me question my worth, because, fuck it I was in love. And fuck you Dean for I couldn't have us."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to make you question your worth, hell I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, I just wanted to keep you safe, away from this life. You aren't even back in my life for less two hours and look at this mess. I don't even want to think of what harm I would've caused you if you'd been with me all those years." He looked apologetic. "As for my mom, God's sister brought her back."

"Who THE FUCK?" She looked dumbfounded.

"It's long story." Dean chuckled. "All I'm saying is I've loved you this whole time and I only broke up with you because I didn't want you be in danger and because my dad said it was for the best." He rubbed the back of his head, half ashamed.

"Where's your dad?" She asked after few minutes of silence.

"He died, a few years ago." Dean replied gloomily.

"I'm sorry." Even if the man was the reason for her heartbreak she didn't feel good about him being dead. After all he was Dean's father. Dean nodded. "What now?"

"We could try again, that is if you want to. I'm tired of not being with you. I feel meeting you again after all these years, it's fate." Dean said softly. "And I still love you so fucking much." He rested his forehead against her.

"I still love you too, Dean." She whispered. The tension between them hangs in the air, heavy and charged. Without another word, Dean cups Y/N's face, his thumb gently brushing their cheek. There's a moment of hesitation, a breath, and then he leans in, capturing their lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss is deep, intense, filled with all the unspoken emotions they've both been holding back. Dean pulls Y/N closer, as if trying to convey everything he couldn't say in words. For that moment, it's just the two of them, lost in the heat of the kiss. When they finally pull back, both breathless, Dean's forehead rests against Y/N's, his eyes still closed.

"Being away from you was worse than going to hell."

"As if you'd know what hell’s like." She replied rolling her eyes. Dean pulled away, his eyes filled with mischief.

"Oh I do, I went to hell, i was there for forty years."

"You're lying." She gave him a look and he shook his head.

"I'm not. I went to hell and then Castiel the angel pulled me out. Who by the way is now my best friend."

"SAMMY? HE'S LYING ISN'T HE??" She yelled to the younger Winchester and Dean barked out a laugh at her reaction. Sam didn't know what she was on about so he laughed too.

"You've got a lot of catching up to do, sweetheart." Dean said while helping her down off the hood. He threw an arm over her shoulder and dragged her towards his mom. "Mom this is Y/n. My highschool sweetheart." He said pecking her temple.

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Winchester.” Y/n said extending her hand for her to shake but Mary pulled her into a hug.

“Call me Mary. And welcome to the family.” She smiled. Dean grinned, watching the exchange with a sense of pride. Mary’s embrace made Y/n feel instantly at ease. Mary pulled back slightly, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name.”

“You have?” She questioned looking at Dean who looked away shyly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I wasn’t around the first time.” Mary joked and Y/n let out an awkward laugh.

Dean stood by, his arm still around Y/n, feeling a deep sense of contentment as his worlds finally came together. He knew they still had a lot to talk about but he also knew that they were meant to be. It’s destiny. Now that he’s got her, he’s never letting her go matter what life throws at him. He’s finally home.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkness @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

A Healing Kiss

This fic will cover my "Let me kiss it better." square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be in bold.

Summary: Y/N causes Dean a bit of damage. Can she fix it with a...kiss?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Just a little bit of smutty goodness. Blowjob. slight handjob. Oral (m receiving). Implied oral (f receiving). Crack if you squint.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,968

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. It came from @suckitands33 :

Oh I’d love ‘let me kiss it better’ how about along the lines of flirting Dean and reader. Nothing actually happening though then reader hurts Dean in the dick and balls by mistake and says that ‘line’ and dean thinks she’s joking but she follows through with it. Love a bit of mutual pining then they give in to their desires. 🙏🏼

The pining ended up being a bit more from the reader's POV, but there's a hint that Dean's in the same mindset. Hope you enjoy it, hon! Hope everyone enjoys it! If you do, please don't forget to reblog, comment and/or like. I so appreciate it! ❤️

The beautiful dividers are created by @talesmaniac89 .

“Shit! Shit! I'm so sorry!”

Y/N winced as Dean just groaned out his pain and rolled into the fetal position. 

“Dean! I'm so sorry!” She repeated, kneeling beside him, hands running up and down his sweaty bicep. “I just stumbled, I was aiming for your thigh.”

She grimaced again as she remembered the powerful kick she'd delivered, intending to connect with his meaty thigh, a move he could have blocked, or taken easily. They were training and Dean was on the attack, she was on the defense. But she’d just lost her center of gravity for a half second as she shot her foot out and she stumbled, landing the blow to a much more sensitive area.

Dean just waved at her as he sucked in deep breaths. She wasn’t sure if he was telling her it was okay, or telling her to get lost. Eventually he pulled himself up and disappeared into the bathroom. She thought he might be checking for permanent damage. She grabbed the bucket and filled it with ice from the machine just outside their room.

She knocked on the door of the bathroom. “Dean? I have some ice for you.”

The door opened a crack, but only Dean’s big hand stuck out, reaching for the bucket. He groped in the air for a minute until she grabbed his wrist and set the bucket on his palm. It disappeared back inside and the lock clicked. 

She sighed and flopped down on her bed. This was definitely not how she’d wanted this evening to go.

This was only the third time she’d been out hunting with the Winchesters; there was a lull in the case and they had to wait until the next day to interview a couple of witnesses to what they were fairly certain was a demon possession. So Sam was off with the pretty librarian they’d met earlier, and had texted Dean not to wait up. 

So it was just the two of them in the motel. This was the first time they'd ever been completely alone for any length of time and Y/N was feeling the tension. She felt as though there had always been a bit of something between them, just a spark that sprang to life sometimes, a touch here and there that felt like it could be much more if they allowed it.

Or at least, she thought there was a spark. She was a tiny bit worried she'd become delusional because of how badly she wanted the green-eyed hunter. So when Dean had suggested they spend their evening getting in some training, Y/N had jumped at the chance, hoping he was suggesting it as a way for them to get close - and physical. 

She did her best to be at least a little subtle in her excitement over the prospect of sweaty, hand to hand grappling with the hottest fucking man she’d ever known. Since they’d met less than a year before she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. She was crossing every finger she had that this evening would lead to something she’d been craving for a very long time.

Everything Dean did was sexy, every part of him made her melt - his thick, solid, hunter’s body, long and powerful and begging to be taken for a ride. His deep, rumbling voice, like a shot of strong whiskey, always made her shiver. His eyes and the way they held secrets and promises in equal measure within their mossy green depths. And that mouth - Jesus, it should be illegal for a man to have a mouth that pretty.

He was basically walking temptation and she desperately wanted to give in. 

But now, instead of using their physical closeness and panting exertion to finally get him naked, she’d probably made it impossible for him to have children. She clapped her hands to her face and tried not to scream.

Finally, ten minutes later, Dean came out of the bathroom. Y/N sat up as he set the bucket of melting ice onto the counter beside the coffee maker. She scrunched up her face in sympathy. 

“I’m really sorry.”

But Dean just shook his head and fell onto his bed. “Nah, it’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll live. But you should definitely use that kick on a bad guy; he’ll be down and out like that.” He said with a snap of his fingers.

Y/N bit her lip. “Good to know.”

Dean folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her. “Where’d you learn that little ninja kick, by the way? It’s pretty badass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s much more badass when I don’t stumble and miss my target.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, I will admit that wasn’t exactly how I was hoping our sparring session would end.”

Y/N’s stomach clenched. She licked her lips, eyes locked with his. “Really? How uh…how were you hoping it would end?”

Those wicked promises were back in his gaze as he shrugged and smirked. “I was hoping to win, of course.”

“Ah, of course.” Y/N said, trying to gauge his mood. Was this friendly flirting or something more real? “Sorry I nailed you in the nads instead.”

Dean chuckled again, a low rumble. “I feel like that apology wasn’t as sincere as the others.”

Trying hard not to think of the consequences if she was reading him wrong, Y/N got up to walk to his bed and sit down at his hip. “I’m sorry, Dean.” She said sincerely, but slightly breathless. “Let me kiss it better.”

Dean’s eyes widened and warmed. His tongue darted out and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before letting it go, leaving it plump and wet and enticing. He forced another small laugh and a smirk. “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled and then moved her hand to his belt buckle, just resting it there. “And if I wasn’t joking?”

Dean breathed out roughly, his eyes downcast and staring at her hand. When they raised back to hers, the pupils were bleeding into his bright green irises. “Then I’d say, it will probably take more than a kiss to make it all better.”

Y/N’s grin became wicked as she worked at his belt with one hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Dean’s breathing picked up as she unzipped his jeans and reached her hand inside. She groaned along with him as she ran her hand over his underwear and along his incredible length. He was semi-hard already and so thick it made Y/N’s mouth water.

She tugged on his jeans and he lifted his hips to let her pull them off. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his bare legs before running her hands up his thighs. She dug her nails into the thick, meaty muscles there and Dean hissed.

She bent her head down and pushed his t-shirt up so she could lay wet, sucking kisses across his flat stomach. She lowered the waistband of his boxer briefs just a bit so she could bite into the taut v-shaped muscle that disappeared into his underwear, making Dean buck slightly beneath her.

He moved his hands from behind his head to grip the sheets in his big fists as Y/N slid down his body slightly so she could place a light kiss to the thick ridge straining against the black cotton.

“All better?” She teased. Dean huffed out a laugh and his voice was pure rasp as he answered.

“Not quite.”

She hummed and nodded. “Better get a closer look then.”

She slowly peeled his snug briefs down over his hips. He lifted for her again briefly and she freed his dick to slap against his lower abdomen. 

“Fuck me.” She said quietly as she took in the beauty of his perfectly marbled cock, long and thick and leaking.

“That's the idea, sweetheart.” Dean said with a breathy chuckle.

She leaned down to kiss the very tip, flicking her tongue into his slit and making his cock twitch. She moaned as she wrapped her hand around the base and couldn’t quite make her fingers touch. She began placing feather light kisses all along the shaft and she could feel it throb beneath her lips.

She pushed it flat against his stomach and swirled her tongue around each of his balls, earning a grunt and a ragged curse from Dean.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck.” He mumbled.

She mouthed her way up his shaft, teasing and tormenting him by occasionally scraping her teeth very gently over his velvety skin. Finally she closed her mouth tight around the tip pulling in her cheeks and sucking on him like a popsicle. He groaned deeply and her core muscles clenched painfully.

His left hand moved into her hair and he gave it a tug as she slid further down his length. “Yes, baby take it all, swallow me down.” He ground out between clenched teeth.

Y/N hummed her agreement and pushed down as far as she could, till he was touching the back of her throat. She dropped her jaw, and let go of the base of his dick so she could plant her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips and arch her neck so that she could take his whole cock, pressing her nose against his pelvic bone and letting him stretch her throat.

Dean’s hips bucked and she pulled all the way off of him, letting her spit and his cum keep them connected as she looked up the length of his body to watch him push his head back into the pillow and growl. His hand in her hair kept tugging and pulling as she began bobbing up and down on his cock. The slight sting spurred her on, and she moved faster and faster on him, letting him hit the back of her throat every time.

She pushed down hard on him and the spongy head of his cock slipped down her throat once again. She swallowed around him, and then sealed her lips tight and sucked hard as she pulled back up.

Dean pushed against her shoulders. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N gripped his dick in her hand again, pumping it a few times, before she opened her mouth wide and bounced his heavy cock against her tongue. Her saliva ran down his length, allowing her hand to glide over him smoothly as she kept milking him. Finally with a fierce yell, Dean gushed into her mouth and down her chin. 

She pumped him through his whole climax, licking and sucking on him as his hips stuttered and he finally fell back onto the mattress, spent and panting. Y/N cleaned him up with her tongue, making sure she got every drop.

As his breathing normalized and began to even out Dean grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward to fall across him. He brought her mouth to his and kissed her long and hard, not caring that he could taste himself on her lips. He rolled her over and pinned her beneath him before pushing to his knees and yanking his shirt off so he was completely naked. She was still fully dressed.

He tugged on her t-shirt. “Gotta do something about this.” He said as he pulled it off. 

Y/N giggled breathlessly and then gasped as he moved to unzip her jeans. “Does this mean my kiss worked?” She gasped. “Feeling all better now?”

Dean yanked down her jeans and panties with one tug and groaned as he saw how wet she already was. 

He nodded. “Yeah, much better, but now I’m starving.” He said with a grin before sinking down to feast.

[snows-2am-thoughts]

Uh so Gravity Falls x The Owl House is canon?! This is the best moment of my life guys

I'd like to think Luz decides to investigate anomalies on Earth when she can since Eda had told her weird stuff on Earth was just magic leaking from the Boiling Isles. She decides on Gravity Falls because it seems that's where the biggest traces of weirdness are. Mabel and Dipper decide to go back to Gravity Falls or attend college near there after high school because it's their home and they've already been away for long enough (and lets be real, everyone besides the stans are probably still there because it's a small town and families hardly ever leave those). Dipper studies paranormal sciences or an applied research major or both and helps continue studying Gravity Falls after he graduates since Ford is off on adventures with Stan. Mabel is studying Fashion Design or Graphic Design with a minor in Photography (the sweaters and scrapbooking stuck) and is now determined to make something (I'm thinking like a fashion line, plushies, or even a cartoon/comic series since she's very creative) inspired by the weirdness of Gravity Falls. 

Luz and the twins end up meeting by chance when they're researching some of the more elusive creatures and they just kind of pause when seeing each other.

Luz: *is sweating nervously because she thinks the twins are freaked out*

Dipper and Mabel: *are sweating nervously because the last time someone found out about the weirdness the FBI got involved*

I think after a very long and awkward conversation they'd actually be really excited to know there are other humans who are open to the weirdness! Luz spent her life not thinking she'd be able to fit in around other humans and the twins have probably felt a little outcasted since they'd been through something no one outside a select few in Gravity Falls can relate to. 

Hijinks ensue. Luz and Mabel feed off of each other's bubbliness and high energy personalities. Luz and Dipper are now combining their research with Luz's knowledge of the Boiling Isles and Dipper's knowledge of the mysteries of Gravity Falls. Luz ends up taking them to the Boiling Isles to introduce them to everyone and suddenly the twins feel like they're at home. Everything is going great until they recognize Eda as a woman from one of Grunkle Stan's old pictures and now they're on a mission to locate their grunkles from whatever adventure they're on to bring them to the Boiling Isles. Stan and Eda reunion (very awkward at first because they're cautious of lingering feelings from the other but they're both well established in life now and so the awkwardness fades, chaos buddies are back) as well as both sets of twins getting to explore the Boiling Isles.

Luz now has a human based support system that isn't her mother which helps her feel ok in her humanity. The twins are able to talk about their experiences with someone who understands and even thrives in the weirdness. 

Dipper and Luz experiment and find new combinations of King's titan glyphs while Mabel and Luz work on a campaign to introduce the two worlds to each other while preventing the creation of more witch hunters or the FBI from being scared because yeesh they don't wanna repeat their trauma. 

Dynamics between the gangs! I think Hunter and Soos would be an awesome pair of bros and I could totally see Amity and Wendy being the cool and composed duo of their respective groups. Luz, Willow, Amity, Mabel and Wendy having a girls night because lord knows they need it. The boys (Hunter, Gus, Dipper and Soos) simultaneously have a boys night but it’s Dipper introducing them to BABBA and Hunter having them carve wood while Soos and Gus try to spook them. Somehow the two groups end up combining and now it’s just a big sleepover with everyone getting into shenanigans. 

King and Mabel would be besties and I can totally see her making little sweaters for him so they can match. Luz catches on and now we have three matching besties. Eda and Stan fuel each other’s gambling habits while Ford and Raine stand on the sidelines getting ready to bail them out. Dipper and Willow would totally get along and I can see them researching the more unique plants of the Boiling Isles together. Gus and Dipper discuss the differences in the worlds of witches and humans. Hunter would introduce the palismans to Mabel and she’d start sprucing up their homes and making them little sweaters. Waddles meant everything to her and if she could help them find homes then she would. 

The Collector visits and all of a sudden the GF group gets PTSD from Bill because ‘oh looks its another all powerful interdimensional being.’ When questioned about it the Collector gets concerned and decides to look into it.

The Collector: *concerned because he knows how he was when he didn’t understand human mortality and thinks this ‘Bill’ just needs to be informed* “YEESH nevermind this guys a mess, you don’t have to worry, he’s being forced into interdimensional therapy. I wouldn’t put it past him to try his old tricks though so don’t make any deals or trust anything triangular’

The GF crew: “HE’S ALIVE????”

The GF group is lowkey paranoid after that because they risked so much to make sure Bill couldn’t hurt them again and the TOH group has to comfort them because they understand. The Collector is assuring them that he’s watching out for them so they don’t have to be too paranoid. The groups go back to doing what they're doing. 

I lowkey wanna see Mabel learning magic while Dipper is lowkey just fine studying and researching since actually doing the magic stuff lost its appeal when Bill possessed him. I haven’t even thought of what Mabel’s palisman would end up being

…. WHO AM I KIDDING, IT'S PROBABLY A MINI WADDLES

OR A LLAMA

Or maybe like a squirrel or beaver, Stan’s would definitely be a crow but he and Ford probably are a little put off of doing magic themselves because of similar reasons to Dipper. Actually, maybe Stan would be a little more open since Eda is there and he knows that while she’s mischievous and a troublemaker, she’s nothing like Bill. If Ford and Dipper did wanna learn magic I think Ford gives off hawk palisman vibes while Dipper’s is definitely an owl. I just realized that all the Pines besides Mabel have bird palismans in this. That’s actually pretty good angst potential. 

I COULD WRITE SO MUCH MORE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I WANT TO WRITE A FIC

I AM GONNA WRITE A FIC

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday - Johnny Storm

Summary: Johnny is a natural when it comes to cyber security but he has to tread lightly.

Warnings: None at this point. Please let me know if I missed any.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

“Hey, G, Geralt, did you get those latest security patches tested?” Johnny never bothered to knock on the cubicle the testers shared. They'd asked to be called by their last names, Hunter and Rivia, to avoid confusion with the double G names but Johnny preferred to be on a first name basis. Though no one actually knew G's full first name outside of management.

“Is the update still scheduled to go live today?” G asked, not looking from his screen. “Yeah,” Johnny replied.

“And are our initials on the code updates?” Geralt growled, also not looking away from his screen.

“Yeah.”

“Then we've tested them. Why are you bothering us?” G monotones before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Because you know how much I love annoying you two,” Johnny said with a smile. “How's the bug count going?”

“I'm ahead by three,” Geralt says with a bit of pride in his voice.

The two testers had a “friendly” competition every month to see who could find and resolve the most bugs. Pine and Syverson allowed it only because it never escalated beyond veiled threats of bodily harm from the loser. No one outside of the two was ever really sure what the stakes were but Johnny figured they must be incredibly good.

“Way to go,” Johnny congratulated. “G's got his work cut out for him.”

“If I give you one of the cookies I got from the vending machine will you go away?” G sighed, still not looking away from his screen.

“Yes,” Johnny nods emphatically. Still not looking away from his computer G grabs the small roll of cookies and tosses one to Johnny who immediately consumes it. “Love the sugar. Thanks! Happy hunting!”

Johnny settled himself into his “war cave” as he called his cubicle on release days. He's got energy drinks, candy bars, and occasional “healthy” meals to keep his stomach from getting too upset.

New security updates means new attempts by hackers. He's gotta be on high alert for at least the first day, if not the rest of the week. He's got his work computer with his credentials and his laptop with his own TheHumanTorch69. Going back and forth between the two of them allowed for a two-pronged defense against would-be hackers.

In truth, there was one username in particular he was looking for: DarkAngel2000. She was always the biggest threat to the firewall. He'd taken great pains to befriend her using his personal credentials without earning her suspicion. He pretends to work with her to break everything but, in fact, uses the intel to counter her on his work account. It's a difficult line to walk, not being too obvious, trying to appear actually helpful, but he's gotten good at it. The sugar rush definitely helps.

He gets a notification on his personal account:

DarkAngel2000: ready to party? TheHumanTorch69: always! DarkAngel2000: got ur sugar rush started? TheHumanTorch69: way ahead of u DarkAngel2000: let the games begin!

For the next several hours Johnny goes into a bit of a trance as he gets to work in his two-faced role. It's almost a dance, well, more of a mosh-pit, but he's got the skills to navigate it.

You're taking notes on your conversation with TheHumanTorch69 and seeing if you can find correlation with the company drone account you keep seeing countering your hacking attempts. You're certain there's more to Torch than what he's telling you. He might even be this JStorm account from the company but you need evidence.

You need to be careful. Torch is a good coder, one of the best you've worked with. But ever since you started working with him, the vast majority of your plans have gone south. You don't appreciate being duped and if it turns out Torch has been playing you, there will be repercussions.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @ronearoundblindly

[swordofsun]

@scoobydoodean had been posting about 4x17 It's A Terrible Life and it's reminded me of one of my favorite overlooked bits in the episode and how it shows that Zachariah is just wrong about Dean.

Zachariah's whole theory with this little experiment is that Dean will choose hunting.

ZACHARIAH To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it.

But Dean has expressly denied hunting already at the end of the last act:

SAM Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be. DEAN No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo. SAM When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them? DEAN Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused— SAM Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital. DEAN Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on. SAM All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you. DEAN Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go. SAM leaves.

Sam tried to get Dean to drop everything and go hunting. They stopped a ghost! It was fun! They could do this, but Dean's not going to give up his life for it. Dean has no intention of turning his life upside down to start hunting and it's not until Zachariah lays out one of the most depressing 10 year plan ever:

ADLER Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way. DEAN Well, thanks. I try. ADLER I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you. DEAN takes off his headset. DEAN Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but... DEAN passes the paper back. DEAN I am giving my notice.

He's already the director of marketing and sales and his career plan is 10 years of nothing but work to make VP of a division? Probably a small division? Everyone would quit with that laid out. Maybe not as directly as Dean does, but yeah, they'd be going home and revamping the resume. That's a dead end career path you'd have to bust your ass and give up your life for.

Hearing that and going "hmm, maybe I take some time and check out that hunting thing with that Wesson guy. He was less creepy once we started working on the haunting, for the most part" is actually a pretty normal thing to do.

And really Zachariah doesn't even give him the chance to go find Sam. Because there's actually a good chance Dean gets home and after thinking about it he just updates his resume and LinkedIn. He had to give Dean back his memories in that exact moment in order to try and leverage the situation to his advantage.

Zachariah stacked the deck and still barely managed to get Dean to quit his job. Dean wasn't running to hunting with open arms. He was, at best, looking at it as a more viable option than the shitty 10 year plan Mr. Adler just laid out. And Zachariah couldn't wait for him to actually choose hunting, he had to strike before Dean could second guess himself.

(Even Sam is making the choice between IT support call center or ghost hunting. This isn't hard.)

4x17 Transcript

[apollocabinrep]

Dear Bianca,

Writing letters is a lot harder than mamma made it seem. I think if the nymphs saw how much paper I've tossed away, they'd throw me in the lake. I'm staying at camp now, so I've made it easier for them. We have our own cabin, well I do. Annabeth said you would never get to be in it, because of joining the Hunters.

Some part of me wants to be mad at you for leaving me- both dying and choosing rebirth, but we both know I'm not, not anymore at least. I just really, really miss you. I took have mia sorellona for granted. I can't blame you for wanting to leave me though, I was a really annoying kid. And I didn't realize how hard putting up with annoying kids were until I got "stolen" by the Apollo cabin.

My boyfriend, yeah I have one of those now, Will has two younger siblings, Austin and Kayla. Between me and you, Austin is my favorite. They're not 10 year olds obsessed with Mythomagic but Gods, Bi, I have no idea how you did it. They're not bad, just exhausting to be around sometimes. Actually so is Will. Bi, he is making me catch up on films, though people now just call them 'movies'. It's a weird word, but apparently I'm old for preferring to call them films.

We have another sorella, too. Her name is Hazel and she's Roman. She's helped me through a lot. At first, I saw her as a replacement for you, but truthfully, I'm really happy to have Hazel as herself. You two are really different, but I couldn't be happier for it. That's a weird thing to think about, huh. Was I really a happy kid, Bi? After everything I've been through, it feels like I'm just now getting to be happy, but I know I was happy to have you in my life.

I really wish you hadn't gotten that stupid figurine. It wasn't worth your life. I would've much preferred my sister coming back alive, but I can't change the past. I have a best friend now, I think. His name is Jason and he's kind of annoying. He left with his girlfriend Piper to go find their recently undead friend Leo. He also builds shrines for the Minor Gods, which is pretty cool. It hopefully keeps them from trying to kill us, and he is really excited about it.

Gods, Bi, nothing this good ever lasts long for me. It's terrifying and I wish you were here to give me a hug. Healing is really hard and if you knew the language I've started to use you'd be grabbing soap with a horrified face. I wish you could meet everyone. Not Leo. I'm still mad at him for pulling his dying not dying trick.

Do you think you'll remember me after your next life? I hope so. You don't have to worry about me so much. I plan to fight for this life I have. Everyone is insufferable, but they aren't bad people.

Your fratellino,

Niccolò

---

[Italian translations:

Mamma - mom

Mia sorellona - big sister

Sorella - sister

Fratellino - little brother]

[creaturefeaster]

I was wondering about the cq guys, did they have jobs before the disaster??, Personally, I see Rachel working in a beauty salon or doing nails in a salon. And what if mimes could have professional careers?,Could REDE be a mathematics teacher who likes to torment his students? What do you think about that?

A good chunk of them did have jobs, yes! And I think there are definitely some jobs the mimes would love/excell at, too, were they ever to need to work.

I'll go into depth about some of these jobs :3...

Hannah had a lot of commissioners for her robotics expertise, would be funded by various organizations of the state to help develop robotic aids or other useful things of the sort-- she was a busy gal before the Fault!

Gary had a middle man, or a plug of sorts, through which he would occasionally offload personal art through to sell locally within a farmer's market. He did this less than occasionally because he preferred to maintain his solitude.

Lauren sells single-use spells and other magical tools and compounds (They had other people help distribute these goods). They also taught classes on historic magic, when they had the spare time.

Elliot worked as a bookstore clerk, organizing books and other goods. He additionally found work through Lauren to help manufacture her products alongside her, through which he eventually became her apprentice, and gained many more tasks as a result.

Tanner was a hunter, partially for town game and partially to defend against opportunistic predators. You'd find him stationed out around the outskirts of town often, chilling with a gun and a drink.

April would help with hunting occasionally, but primarily worked as a nurse for Lystrike's very small, very dinky hospital.

Leon was not working at the time, but he did occasionally play solo gigs for the bar and other venues in Lystrike.

Rachel was actually a royal medic at the time of the Fault. As in, technically within the Dominion's higher military, but not a fighter. She was not on duty when it hit, but immediately went into the front lines anyways to try and help people with her healing oriented magic.

Samantha was a tailor typically selling her custom clothes remotely, though she didn't have much success in pulling customers in. Debbie advocated vocally for her on several occasions though.

Michael was about to get his first job just before the Fault, working at a comic shop, a position he lucked into by being at the store at the right time. (Then got lucked out of, due to the world ending 💔 )

~☆~

As for the mimes...

TyV would be a journalist. Ching is already an actor. Foxglove would enjoy a bartender position, for the wrong reasons I think. El Ganso is technically a bounty hunter of sorts and takes pride in it. Rede probably wouldn't be the best teacher, he'd get too frustrated with people who don't understand right away, but he would be an excellent astrophysicist. Holly would thrive as a model, Twiddle would just want to be the boss of anybody, Chickenstab would be great in any field involving animals. Atrox would be most content as a quiet maid. Jarna would love to be in a band, and Uppsulka I think would be a great counselor. Calamea would be the town nuisance.

These are just what I think would work for them, not necessarily what they'd end up doing if they did have to get jobs. Like, Rede would be great in astrophysics but he'd get stuck as like. A clerk or something that'd drive him up the wall.

[bonkbobl]

beautiful fool

ROOSE BOLTON X READER | PART 2

a/n: wait okay i didn't mean to fall down this rabbit hole but roose bolton can get it i dont really care. genuinely sometimes i forget that hes a bad... bad bad bad man. he has that flavor of bad thats just so alluring though i cant resist. i forget that the boltons often torture people for fucks and giggles but rewatching the scene where roose just fucks with jamies head for no reason other than thinking it might be funny made me think to what lengths would he go for something he actually wants. warning that its unedited and unplanned and this is more or less a train of thought fic.

summary: he had to have you. whatever it takes.

warning: REALLY explicit, major dubious consent, honestly headed toward straight noncon. very problematic trope of being forced to fuck but then enjoying it. forced marriage. id say dark roose but lowkey this is pretty in character for this bad bad bad man bad man. bad man.

Your heart raced out of your chest, fear even threatening to bubble and explode out of your throat. You almost got away. You nearly escaped. And here you were, tackled into the mud just by the river by men who wanted to hurt you. Hurt you and whatever was left of your family.

The men who whispered taunts in your ear as they tied your hands behind your back laughed. These were the same men who just two days ago invited the woman who you call mother and the man who was like a brother to you into their home to feast and murdered them.

You knew they'd send out a hunting party after you. But you thought swimming in the water might throw them off your scent. You weren't so lucky.

And as they dragged you back, the words of those men rang ominously through your head, "It's too bad the lord wants her untouched. I'd very much like to touch this one."

A lurking feeling told you that you'd probably have preferred to fall into the river and crack your head open on some jagged rock than find out what use the Lord of the Dreadfort had for you.

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

"What happens if I refuse," You asked, lifting your chin in defiance, as much defiance as you could manage with your arms tied behind your back.

Roose tilted his head at you almost like he was amused that you'd even think you have a say in the matter in the first place. "Then I'll put a bastard baby in you," he responded, his frankness and lack of shame sending cool shivers down your back. "And once the bastard is born I'll put another in you."

You couldn't help the frustrated tears that pooled in your eyes and you ripped your gaze away from him, fear bubbling in your chest and making you feel sick.

"Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton. It's your decision, love."

Ever since that conversation you had pondered how likely it is you'd make it even a few miles before you were captured, either by Bolton hunters or the Ironborn. Either would be unpleasant. You wondered if you could find a way to just be done with it all and join your ward family in the seven heavens rather than fight. But you knew you could never bring yourself to. You were one of the living, through and through. You had to run.

And plan, you did, but no opportunity came. It was only a matter of time before you were put in a pretty white dress and brought under a Godswood to speak your vows to the man who betrayed your true king.

All you could think was why. Why cant he just let you go. You have no legitimate claim that could threaten him. You're not a stark. You're just a girl. You don't come from a large family. Not one of influence. There are no banners to raise. No substantial actions you could take against the new wardens of the north. You were more likely to die trying to run north than you were to be any kind of threat.

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

It wasn't like Roose to hold affections for any particular person. It was rare for him to even feel a vague sense of fondness towards anyone. A person is useful and competent. If they aren't then at best they are a nuisance that he could do without, at worst a threat to the Bolton name.

But you.

You were every bit as much a fool as the man who took you in as a ward, and that same mans son who grew up with you. You fretted over honor and doing the right thing when your enemies would not pay a second thought. You argued in favor of the late Queen Talisa's insistence on helping both Northern and Royal forces, allocating countless coppers toward medicating the enemy.

You aggravated Roose to no end when you first began to speak out. And yet he found that his eyes would always meet yours, rake downward against his will really. And though it only added to his aggravation, he brushed those feelings aside as the natural desires of a man.

He, in no way, found you difficult to gaze upon. It was infuriating, even more so that you seemed to understand the effect you had on men, flirting about with the son of Karstark and joking crudely with the men as if you weren't a lady to be respected.

And yet he found a stirring in him when you'd make an innuendo that was a little too risque.

He soon found it difficult to not think of you. Especially when you, the beautiful fool, revealed yourself to be of a sharper mind than even the King in moments.

"I love Talisa, truly, but think about it, Robb. You may be winning battles right now. But if you become too close to her, your closest advisors may falter. You risk losing the war."

"We have little food to sustain the rest of the camp, perhaps it'd do the Northern cause some good to do something about the overflowing kennels. As distasteful as it is to execute so many."

"Karstark will be avenged if you go through with this, please Robb. His forces make up a third of ours. Think. Think about it, I beg you."

Roose was irked by the fact that he agreed with you on more occasions than not, but he was impressed nevertheless. And it only kept you on his mind more. No, it wasn't love, Roose was sure of it, it erred more on the side of an intrigue that escalated to the point of near obsession. You were, after all, young, beautiful, thoughtful, and you held a level head. More strong than his first wife, less stiff and rigid than his second. More alluring and exciting than both.

The way Roose saw it, Robb Stark was becoming more dangerous to the interests of the North, growing increasingly reckless as the war went on. It was really his duty to usurp the so called King in the North, whod surely lead all the great Northern Houses to extinction if this masquerade continued on. You, however, would be a great loss if you were to drown alongside the wolf.

A great loss, indeed. Not to any higher purpose, you were not from any significant house. No, you just deserved to live. It baffled Roose to know he felt that way about any one person. But he reasoned it's simply because he wants you for himself. His pretty little wife — you'd fit that role so well.

He even remembered the way the old Lord Frey cackled when he stated his intentions with you.

"Marry any of my daughters and I will give you her weight in silver, My Lord. An offer of good faith and my grandson shall become Warden of the North."

"I'm honored by the offer, believe me. But I already have a prize that I've set my eyes on."

Frey's eyebrows arched in amusement.

"The Stark Ward," Bolton answered the unspoken question.

And the old man laughed, harder than a man his age should be able to, and sure enough his joy was cut short by a few uncouth coughs. "Pretty slut. I cannot say I blame you, Lord Bolton. I'm embarrassed I didn't think to take that pretty thing as my spoils before you did."

Roose offered a polite smile and hum, "I'll wed one of your children or perhaps grandchildren to whatever child I will have with my new wife."

Frey chuckled, nodding, "Hm, expect me to remember such a promise, my lord..." Then with a sardonic smirk, the lecherous old man spoke again, "Eh, I assume you aren't the type of man to like to share, are you, Lord Bolton."

And Roose's smile dropped into a hard glare. Frey laughed again, waving him off.

"A joke," he reassured, "Alright. After we kill the boy and his mum, you keep the whore. I cant wait to see how you deign to tame the bitch."

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

The very same halls you grew up in echoed terribly as your husband led you to the chambers you would share. The Lords chambers. You remember running to this very room to pester your Lord and Lady, sometimes Sansa or her older brother running alongside you.

Lord Bolton hardly spoke a word to you. All the better, for you could not bear to look at him. All those months of sitting across him as both of you counseled the proclaimed King in the North, and you thought you knew the man. You even admired him, vied for his approval. You thought him to be intelligent, more clear headed than the men that are easily driven by anger or lust and other vices of men. You'd smile to yourself on the occasions he'd agree with you or appear to approve of your advise.

To be honest, you thought Lord Bolton had no such love or affection toward you, especially in the very beginning when he wouldn't even stop to regard you, or he'd clearly speak over you, brush you aside, advise your king the opposite of the words you'd spoken. You thought he saw you as a mere child, playing at king and hand like you and Robb would as babes.

Now you think he really must have hated you. You wonder how long he hated Robb, and all the Starks, all their allies. But you, he must have hated you especially. Why he would feel the need to subject you to the greatest torture of living with him, being bred by him, carrying child after child, you wondered why why why. Why does he hold so much resentment toward a young girl. He must be a sad man.

You suddenly realized he was staring at you, watching your teary eyes, your clenched jaw, your shaky breath. You stared him in his cold eyes, defiant. Though you knew it was useless. You knew what would come next. He made it clear.

Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton.

Was there any difference?

For Lady Bolton, the children you bear him would be heirs rather than bastards. For Lady Bolton, you'd have a title, your "honor" in tact. But everything that mattered would remain the same. Youd take him nightly. You could only hope for him to cease his visits once a babe has taken to your belly

"Lady Bolton," your husband commanded your attention.

You faced him, inches away from the bed. He towered over you and you did your best at a feeble attempt to not let him intimidate you. You were scared. You wanted to be strong but the thought of what was to come next was scaring you. There's no escape.

"Lord Bolton," you replied, nothing but spite in your tone.

He breathed a humorous scoff, shaking his head slightly, "Undress yourself," he said, barely above a whisper, challenging you by tilting his head to the side. His eyes were so cold, barely feeling. You'd not be surprised if he told you he wasn't human.

Swallowing, you began unlacing your dress, attempting to remain hard as steal. But a tear finally trickled down your face when his hand reached up to cup it.

Your fingers stalled to a halt when he leaned in to kiss the tear, an action that would be comforting from any other man but you knew he meant to mock you. This was meant to be humiliating. He doesn't care for you. He kisses your tears away to remind you he doesn't care. He might even like it. Stop crying.

But you couldn't. You squeaked out a small sob as his lips came down to meet yours, hungry and demanding. Your shaky breath let out a heavy sigh through your nose and the feeling of fear strangely extinguished from your chest for a moment. Instead, your chest rose and you met him in his kiss.

His lips were surprisingly soft, his tongue felt dirty in your mouth but you couldn't explain why you didn't want to bite it off and spit it out. Instead you felt helpless and you let his tongue roam your mouth with little to no fight. When he pulled away from you, a string of spit tried desperately to keep the two of you connected but smacked against your chin after a mere second.

Your breath was heavy, cheeks wet with tears, flushed and probably looking a mess. You didn't want to imagine it. The vague sense of disgust with yourself remained but it just felt slightly different. You didn't know how to place it. It stirred rather pleasantly in your lower tummy and you felt really tense down there.

"I will repeat this command. But for the future, I want it to be known that I don't enjoy repeating myself. Undress yourself."

You heard his words clearly and allowed him to kiss you again. Your fingers clumsily and hurriedly worked at your dress. You stripped yourself bare as he did as he liked, kissing, nipping at your lips. His hands explored the new inches of your body as they became more and more exposed to him.

They roamed over your back, and back in front to cup your soft tits, weighing them, toying with your nipple... roamed back down your back, squeezing your firm ass. You couldn't place the feeling, you couldn't place it. You didn't like the feeling. You wanted it to stop. And yet if he pulled away you felt as if you might lean back into his touch inexplicably. You'd hate it but you'd go back for more.

Whenever he groped you a little too hard, you'd whine without even realizing it and Roose's pleasure would grow. Once you were fully naked, you grew awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands so you backed toward the bed. But he followed.

The rough fabric of his clothes felt harsh against your soft skin. You had nothing to do but whimper again and when you turned your head away, he simply let you, instead taking the opportunity to finally look at you, his little wife. Beautiful, clever, stubborn little wife.

You ducked your head, crying, confused at the way you felt, confused as to why you weren't fighting him harder. And that spurred you to begin.

Roose realized you weren't fighting him the second he kissed you and he shared your confusion for a second until he felt your tongue caressing his in reciprocation. He's sure you hadn't even fully realized your own actions as you had rushed to comply with his orders.

He half expected you to be a shy blushing bride but this reminded him that you were a little of a tease with Robbs men, cracking nasty jokes that a lady should not have been aware of. You were no blushing bride. In fact, you were a bit of a slut. A tease.

And suddenly, it struck him that the behavior hadn't so much aggravated him in the way that he thought. In fact the memory of you flirting with those men who were now burried in the ground or thrown into the river, gave him this strong sense of accomplishment to have you here.

Roose began undoing his trousers, unsheathing himself to your horror and you pushed him away, escaping the only way you were permitted, crawling on the bed and trying to get over to the other side. Roose was too fast, grabbing your ankle and pulling you down.

You fell but you kicked him in the chest and he laughed, dropping your ankle, but only so he could grasp your hips firmly and pull you back along the edge of the bed.

"Down, girl," he commanded, as if you were a dog.

You cried, clawing at anywhere to escape to. But he was right behind you and as you looked around, you knew it was hopeless. Still the fight burned on in your chest. Then you heard a smack and a sharp pain in your buttock, jolting you under your husband.

Another one came because you refused to calm yourself, then his hand slipped between your thighs and he spanked you again as another feeble warning.

"My lady," He started, waiting for you to calm finally before chuckling. Then your torturer informed you of something, no doubt to break your spirits, "Are you aware, Lady Bolton, how wet your cunt is?"

His rough weathered fingers rubbed at your entrance, barely pushing in and sure enough the sound of your slick being rubbed and spread around, filled your ears. Your fists balled the sheets under it and your legs helplessly kicked up, though with no purpose. You couldn't get away. From him. From your shame. From your body's betrayal.

"Your womb is begging me to fill it. You feel it, don't you?" He taunted, "You're confused, aren't you. Stupid, confused, little wife."

His fingers slipped away and you fought to catch your breath, fists relaxing because he stopped. But then his fingers were replaced by something thicker and hotter and your struggle resumed. Your hips squirming but all it did was slicken his cockhead for an easier entrance.

"Let me clear your confusion, stupid little wife." Roose cooed to you, the tone of his voice unfitting of the cruel words. "You are exactly where you belong. Under your husband, serving your husband. The Warden of the North. There's no need to fight your fate or fight your pleasure as you are exactly where you belong."

Then he began pushing into you and your toes clenched, back arching inexplicably. The new angle that you provided made it easier. You knew it didn't make sense but it made perfect sense to Roose, who chuckled behind you, smacking your ass, this time not in displeasure but as a praise. Your body twitched at it, cunt squeezing and pulsing around him as if it were trying to suck it in.

Your moans grew more wanton as he pushed in torturously slow. And of course it hurt, stung, when he forced past your maidenhead but you couldn't even bring yourself to squirm away from that. You were rightfully his.

When his hips met yours, he just held himself buried inside you for a few seconds and you continued to contract and twitch around him, small squeaks of confusion escaping your throat against your will. You couldn't stop squirming. The sensation of something so big filling you stirred you uncontrollably.

A hand trailed down your thigh, nudging it upward and you followed the movement, allowing him to prop your leg up on the bed. Then he began thrusting and your face heated up when you heard just how wet you were. Each time his hips pressed flush against you, youd feel the cool sensation of your slick on his balls.

It was all so vivid. Even if you couldn't see what was going on behind you. You knew. And the most shameful noises forced past your throat as your husband fucked you deeply and slowly.

"Listen to yourself," Roose muttered, hands coming up to grab your shoulders.

It allowed him to hammer deeper and harder into you, the sharpness of his thrusts contrasting the slow strokes he started with. You cried out, shameful but you were horrified to find that you did not want him to stop. Not when he was... oh his cock was hitting something inside you. Deep inside you.

"Keep making those noises, darling wife. I cant tell if I enjoy your pleasure more or your tears."

You cried out, a small sob at the end of it. And despite your better judgement, you turned your head to look at your husband. Your naked body contrasted so much with his garments, which stayed mostly unmoved. Only his pants and breeches were pulled down to his mid thigh.

His expression hardened upon evaluating your features. There was nothing more beautiful, your lips parted in a pleasure that confused you. The tears had dried by now but your hair was a mess and your eyes swollen and pinkish. Not to mention the way you were splayed out beneath him. He landed a firm spank to your buttocks again, aiming to leave marks.

You whimpered, eyebrows coming together as your pussy clamped down around him. Roose grabbed your hip that was propped higher than the rest of your body due to your leg that was positioned on the bed. And he used that hip as leverage to pull your body into him.

The confusion within you turned to fear when an unfamiliar feeling began building within you. You cried out loudly and involuntarily clamped down even harder around him, pulsing uncontrollably as he jackhammered into you ruthlessly, intensifying when his hands abandoned your hips for your neck.

You couldn't help but feel as if you were reduced to a little object. He could grab you wherever and however he wanted and pull you against his cock and you had nowhere to run and yet you couldn't even deign to lift your legs and kick at him. You surrendered to the smallness that he made you feel, cries and distress replaced by whimpers and submission.

You came to find your body shaking and convulsing with a blinding kind of pleasure. Even your moans died into a breathy, shaky sigh, back arching as you sank further into the sheets beneath you. Your lord gave no sign of stopping, another self satisfied hum rumbling from his chest.

"Good, so good, darling. I knew you would come to enjoy your new position."

And with that you were filled again with shame, though not yet strong enough to overshadow the stubborn pleasure which muted any feelings that might incite discomfort. You especially could not feel displeased when your husband firmly snapped his hips into you, releasing a grunt. He continued to pump into you, slowly but firmly. sighing along with his thrusts. It was the only compromise in composure that he allowed you to see and you were only sure at this point that he was finished with you.

Surprisingly the spilling of his seed didn't feel like much but your cunt squeezed him, as if it was aware. And you felt satisfaction wash over you, as if your body was also aware.

To your shock and shame, your ass gyrated beneath him, rolling itself against him to fully milk him for all he had to offer you. And you hid your face, pausing once you realized.

After recovering from his release, Roose watched you closely, appreciating the way you still squirmed, restless. You moved your leg back down to the floor and pushed back, hips meeting his and your cunt convulsed again around him due to the overstimulation. He stood like a barrier, looming over you a he rested his hands on the edge of the bed where your hips were and your restless little cunt continued to twitch and pulse as you tried to compose yourself desperately.

You breathed deeply but it was hopeless. You could not walk away with your dignity, fully aware of how Lord Bolton stared upon his Lady Bolton, satisfied with how you gave into him so easily.

You shivered and your breath hitched when he landed a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then you sighed, settling down again for him. And a needy whimper confirmed your submission.

Roose loomed over you, giving you another small kiss on your temple.

"You did well, my lady."

The approval got to you. Your days on Robbs counsel trying your best to say anything intelligent that would make him accept you as an equal. It all led you to this moment. But you never did accomplish your goal of being viewed as an equal, at least it didn't feel that way in this moment. His softening cock still inside you, the only thing stopping his spend from trickling down your leg. Oh the shame of it all.

"I'm pleased to find that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

"No," You protested but in your voice you could tell you didn't even believe yourself.

Lord Bolton merely laughed. And you whimpered again, willing yourself to sink into the bed and disappear. Then your husband pulled back and spread your ass cheeks apart, giving you a lengthy thrust. Though he was not as hard as he was moments ago, the movement was enough to make you shiver.

"Then we should try again in a half mark of an hour. I shall train my lady wife to welcome me into her bed."

You bit the inside of your mouth to prevent another whimper but it was ripped from you when Lord Bolton spanked you again.

Oh yes, Roose Bolton would commit a thousand betrayals and massacre a hundred false Kings if it meant he'd end up with you, here, to warm his bed.

[angeart]

I mean, its a lil bit dramatic xD But the one you guys say is loud and may have been insensitive before being the one to step up? I like (which also yes I wanna ask about that too its me I wanna know all the things)

-🎀

it's overdramatic, hehe.

and. gosh, kane. the way kane grows on them and, honestly, the way they grown on kane, is so precious to me. and it was a very rocky start, mind you! [2,8k ramble ahead <3]

as i said before, they actually first met months before the vex arc. back then, the vex party (kane included) were slightly interested in scar, and considered grian as a liability to him. that was the eclipse day, especially dangerous, and they were sure an avian like that was bound to not survive, anyway.

scar is invited to go with them. he refuses.

imagine their surprise when they run into them later, and grian's still there. it's still the two of them against the world.

the vex party is different now—it's not the best warriors coming out into chaos and mayhem to get their claws bloody. they're less on guard, more curious and open. impressed, honestly, that these two are still alive.

they invite them again, this time the avian included, and... they say yes. (mostly lured by a prospect of sleeping in an actual bed.)

there's no real accommodation extended to grian as an avian. (except nadia does put in the effort to make the place safer for the birb guest.) (safe from what, you ask? hehe. dw about that <3)

everything continues feeling a bit precarious and uneasy, because even though the vexes have no interest in grian's wings—they themselves are hunted and actively fight hunters, after all; they have no dealings with them—it's still very uncomfortable, the way they are looking at him. the way their attention inevitably snags at him, his presence sticking out even with his wings tucked underneath his cloak.

honestly, for a while, the vexes really don't consider grian as a part of the group at all. he's just scar's plus-one, almost like a possession. he seems to belong to scar, in some way.

they'd still fight to protect him, if it came to that, but with a convoluted logic behind it, you know? they protect their own, and scar is one of them—a vex. and grian comes attached to that. that's all there is to it, in their eyes.

the vexes are loud and brash and violent. taunting and open. they're not used to someone who isn't like that. someone who might need more space, different boundaries. someone who doesn't have magic and claws and can't heal—someone light and small, with bones that might break far too easily, and with bright but dishevelled feathers so fearfully and insistently tucked out of sight.

they have no idea how to treat this avian, and they're stubborn enough to not even really consider it at first. he is living with them, surely he can be the one to adjust?

---

this all sort of culminates into the bird incident.

consider this: one day the vex hunting party returns with a rare specialty: a bird.

grian hasn't really seen a living bird yet in this world. and now won't be an exception. the vex saw the bird and promptly shot it, looking forward to the meal. they come back to the village all boisterous and grinning, flaunting the feathery carcass.

it's not like they outright present it to the avian—even they know that'd be wrong—but they're overjoyed and loud about it, wanting to show the others, not really being careful.

grian's ears ring. he's overcome with nausea, feeling dizzy, trying not to have a panic attack right then and there,.helplessly trying not to associate their howls and cheers with the elated, cruel cheers of hybrid hunters.

scar, of course, is pissed on grian's behalf.

but the others don't understand. it's not something they'd ever consider, a wholly new concept that refuses to sink fast enough to deescalate. birds are a rare delicacy! they're yummy and this is a triumph! this is meant to be good, c'mon! it has nothing to do with the avian!

kane says something along the lines of, “come on scar it’s food we don’t need to coddle him—“ 

and Scar gets even more pissed off. “are you even thinking?? try to put yourself in our shoes—“ 

this all leads to a fight breaking out between kane and scar. a vex fight, using vex forms! which is how they solve arguments here in the commune.

vex forms use vex magic that is rooted in emotions, and because of that, there's an unspoken understanding that whoever feels stronger about the issue at hand is bound to win. it's a convoluted way to say that the winner is the one with stronger conviction.

but kane has a much better control over his vex form than scar does, instantly putting scar at a disadvantage, no matter how fiercely he wants to have an upper hand here, to show them that they are wrong.

they fight with claws and teeth, feral and angry, and— this is normal! it's normal for vexes! their vex forms run on magic that will patch them up, and neither of them is really trying to genuinely harm the other.

still, it's scary to witness. blood is drawn. it's hard to tell whose it is. it's all a bit of a blur.

grian's mind is reeling. he moves on pure instinct, trying to get into the fray, to help scar.

nico takes place by grian's side and holds him back. "just let them fight it out." he's very calm about it. he knows his mate, he speaks with his claws sometimes, that's just how things are. "they'll be fine."

it would be placating, maybe, if grian's mind wasn't so violently spinning. maybe if he was used to people who aren't scar leaning close into his orbit. maybe if he was used to hands other than scar's touching him.

right now, grian is already haywire on unease, and he's being grabbed and—

he lets out a distressed chirp.

this effectively whips scar's attention away from his fight with kane, instantly searching for threats to his mate, and lunging at nico instead.

which in turn triggers kane's protectiveness of his mate, and he pounces on scar with much more force. the "petty" argument shifts into something worse, more fierce. things get a bit out of hand.

nico releases grian, realising they need to break this up and pull the two idiots (/aff) apart before they really hurt themselves.

grian's strategy is still to put himself between kane and scar, so that he can't hurt scar more. so he leaps in, wings flapping, desperate to shield his mate.

it's what he'd do with hunters, but kane is a clawed, angry vex.

nico is the only levelheaded one to see where this is going. the only one to instantly understand the consequences of this. because grian isn't a vex. he's an avian, made of brittle, hollow bones, and without a lick of magic in his body that'd help him heal.

grian gets so close to getting horribly injured. it's only nico that stops kane short of hurting him. snapping him out of it. scolding grian, too, like what were you thinking??

but this is a breaking point, a line drawn, where the vexes see that this bird is as fiercely protective as scar is. that he isn't a coward. that he is willing to put himself on the line. and, it gets grian some respect! a fearless little bird!

while nico checks grian over, still scolding him but no longer encroaching on his space or trying to touch him, kane walks over to scar, who is on the ground, mildly concussed but otherwise okay. kane extends his hand to pull him up.

because it's over now! they fought it out. (scar lost.) there's a mutual respect in the aftermath of vex fights, no sour feelings—there's nothing shameful in fighting for what you believe in, after all. and even if there's only one winner, it levels the ground they're standing on, inching towards mutual understanding. or something.

so he helps scar up, throwing out a remark as he grins: "your bird is crazy, scar. i like him."

scar is still dizzy when he responds with a dazed "i like him too."

in the aftermath of this, vexes start to pay more attention to grian. more openly letting him in, interacting with him (instead of just addressing scar), trying to include him.

tentatively, grian lets it happen. it still has its bumps, many mishaps. but none out of malice, you know?

like that time kane talked to grian about mating marks. he basically acknowledges that he doesn't get it, knowing nothing about the avian side of things, not realising what scar's earring means. after all, vexes mark their loved ones with teeth! that's the language kane understands!

it's a whole big deal, really stressing grian out, even if it wasn't meant maliciously. but it's just one more thing showing that these vexes don't really understand anything about avians—their instincts, communication, or ways of showing affection. they never really had to think about it!

so misunderstandings are bound to happen. but it's not all bad! it stops being so awfully rocky over time, with less steps on buried landmines. it tides into a collection of nicer moments as the vexes and grian learn to navigate each other and start being more accepting about their differences, learning about that gap between them. even start to try and bridge it!

the vexes celebrate often, using every little excuse to make a party out of their triumphs. they like being rowdy and dancing and just living, and they are eager to drag scar and grian into it.

it's these events that let scar and grian loosen a little bit more. they're silly with each other and unabashedly in love and, honestly, they're beginning to grow on everyone.

having scar there as a sort of middle ground between grian and the others really helps, too. because they get to see how scar interacts with grian, and how grian interacts with him. they start learning, quietly, just from that, about some subtleties. they also get to see a more open side of grian, one that's reserved for scar, allowing them a glimpse to who grian could be, if only he trusted his surroundings enough.

and maybe they find that they do want that trust.

they do want him to know he can rely on them. they'd fight for him, you know? he is now one of them, without question, they've taken him in and he's fought his way into being more than just "scar's bird". he can be fearless, ready to fight when it counts, a quality vexes hold in high regard! and they now know that there's definitely more to him than he's letting them see, and... they want to provide the space for him to unravel that. to show all of his potential. to allow him to live like they do. like the world isn't constantly about to end.

during this time, scar is often taken along on vex patrols, learning about vexes and being encouraged to develop more as a fighter (something he isn't really all that much into). this means he spends a lot of time with nico and kane, as they're two prominent warriors in this village, and they end up chatting a lot.

this then tips into them hanging out or approaching scar even outside of these patrols more often, feeling closer to him now—and that means approaching grian, too, since him and scar come as a package deal. and eventually it stops feeling like grian is the extra here. he has his own value, his own presence, and they recognise it! they want to learn more about him too!

they get a chance to see a side of grian that they don't expect, when he builds a barn for the old goat that lives in the village. they don't even realise how big of a deal that is—they're just stunned by his skills. because building with more than just bland function in mind is not something they can fathom. they wouldn't know where to start!

so here is where kane has to confront that fighting skills aren't everything. that other things can matter and be wonderful, too. and, actually, he'd really like it if grian kept building more. (imagine scar beaming with pride over his mate in the background of this all, yes.)

sometimes when scar and kane spar, grian climbs up a nearby roof (helps him settle, to be high up). sometimes, nico follows, sitting next to him and keeping him company.

throughout this all, scar and grian keep some layers of distance around them still. they don't go to sleepovers. they don't talk about things that hurt deep behind their ribs. they don't talk about where they're from or what they've been through. they keep their heartache to themselves, all the little moments that make their souls splinter and fray; whenever things catch them off guard and things become Too Much Too Fast, they just leave instead of talking it out and explaining. drawing a thick line behind them and that trigger, retreating back to their own space to put themselves back together in privacy.

(and it's great because they do have their own space!)

kane has a lot of that, you know, brashness about him. lots of thoughtless words. he's not great at being subtle or having tact. but he never means things badly. he never wants to upset them. and that's something he now finds himself wrangling with. asking nico what he's doing wrong whenever scar and grian retreat. (because through that rough exterior, he's a big softie deep down when it's about people he cares about.) (oh yeah turns out he profoundly cares about grian and scar. huh. when did that happen.)

more often than not, it's not even his fault. it takes very little to touch scar and grian's haphazard piles of trauma.

and, they know! they know he doesn't mean to set things off. they know they're not giving him enough to understand what to steer clear of (they themselves don't know, half the time, to be fair).

just like how kane is learning about scar and grian, they're also learning about him. about how he hides his emotions behind words, how he gets easily embarrassed and resorts to pride and teasing, how he sometimes says things in a different way than he means them.

and step by step, they're inching closer to common grounds. they start to rely on each other's presence.

and then The Night For Living comes around.

of course they're gonna go spend the celebrations and games together! they're so much closer now than they were at the start, fond of each other in ways that'd make kane's face burn red and stutter if he was forced to admit it.

they're friends.

and maybe they could be more than that.

cue found family trope

a lot of things happen during the Big Special Vex Celebration Night. the night when it's safe to be, unabashedly and fully. it's wilder than normal celebrations, longer, an event everyone looks forward to. including special homebrew alcohol and a huge bonfire! vex howling and laughter and banter everywhere. roughhousing and sparring and competing.

grian and scar fall under it's rough charm, too. with kane and nico by their side, making their way through the event, drinking and talking and laughing. playing games with each other, and in general having a good time.

this was said before, but this is the night when grian gets mr beak, a silly chicken plushie. and it's kane who gives the toy over—kane, who before fought scar on insensitivity where birds were concerned. now, he is treading carefully, looking to scar for approval and guidance. not wanting to mess up.

equipped with mr beak, they move on, seeking out the next thrill. they decide to do the obstacle course, this time just kane and grian, 1v1! no flying allowed, but everything else (including gliding) is ok.

this is where something in grian sparks.

maybe it's the alcohol, the hints of safety and freedom, or them playing games, but— he gets really into it. he gets to utilise his wings as he navigates the obstacles, and he's laughing, running on a high, and... the finish line is a pile of blankets.

a nest-like thing.

i do have 6,7k words long self-indulgent RP tucked away of just this scene, if you'd like. but the gist of it is that kane is once again caught off guard, because— well, he's never seen grian like this. so bright and cheerful, wings in use.

and grian invites him into it. beckons him closer as him and scar giggle giddily about his victory in a pile of blankets.

the prize, this time, is a special cherry flavoured liquor bottle... that has a pink ribbon attached to it.

maybe grian isn't thinking things through. maybe he's tipsy and running on bird instincts. maybe this is impulsive.

but it feels right.

so he grabs kane's hand. and he ties that ribbon around kane's wrist.

and even if kane doesn't understand the severity of it, he knows it means something big. it's a gift. and it's not a bite, but in kane's heart, that suddenly doesn't seem to matter.

(and yet scar knows. he knows what grian is saying here.)

(he's saying: flock.)

there's more that happens on this night. scar and nico also end up getting ribbons, several mental spirals and breakdowns and games later (pff), and now they're a Ribbon Gang!! (family. flock.) ...but i'm going to leave this at that, as this was meant to be about grian and kane and... i just really wanted to tell you about the ribbon thing :3

as a bonus, have this discord screenshot that i find very funny in the most endearing way:

[whumpshaped]

Did anyone send "I wish I didn't heal" hoping for baby vampire beck yet? If not, I am politely requesting :) (I don't actually know if beck is gonna get turned, so feel free to make it an AU or do this one with Helle)

thank u so much🥺 AND MANY BINGOS. WE'RE ALMOST THERE FOLKS

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, burns, conditioning, manipulation

"N-no, no, please, I'm sorry–"

Beck couldn't believe how quickly the night had taken a turn for the worse.

"Please, I'm sorry–"

First, getting spotted by a group of humans, which had already scared him half to death. In large enough numbers, humans meant danger. A fact that he had been keenly aware of ever since that day when the hunters broke in months ago.

"I'll listen, I'll listen–"

He'd panicked. Helle had told him to stay put and they'd take care of it, and he'd panicked and run instead — an offence they seemed all too eager to punish him for.

"I am telling you to stay still," Helle said quietly, the silver knife still hovering right above his cheek. "How could I ever keep you safe if you refuse to do what I say?"

"I got scared, p-please, I just got scared–"

Helle pulled the knife away and slapped him, hard enough to shut him up. He couldn't remember when they'd started hitting him, but it must've been a while ago, because it didn't seem strange anymore. They grabbed him by the face, holding him still as they lowered the knife to his vulnerable skin; not touching, not yet.

"Are you scared now?" they asked gently, and Beck didn't understand how they could sound like that while simultaneously threatening and hurting him.

"Y-yes, Master."

"Good. Then this is a perfect setting to teach you that no matter how scared you get, you listen to me."

His eyes flickered to the knife, the constant threat of fresh burns making him lightheaded. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be burned. He just got scared, that was all, he wasn't disobeying on purpose, he was just scared.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to compose himself. "Yes, Master," he choked out.

Helle took their hand away, allowing Beck to move if he so chose. The knife remained, making it incredibly difficult for him not to squirm. "Good. I know you must think me quite unfair right now, but believe me... this is for your own good. I know how to handle humans, and you have to learn how to listen in any situation. It is for your survival, dear. So stay still for me."

He wasn't sure how much he believed that when the silver blade was pressed against his cheek, making all thoughts apart from the agony disappear in an instant. He whined, then screamed, then the pain stopped and he was left panting and sobbing.

"Breathe," Helle murmured, and he tried, he tried his best. He could listen. He could be good. He could listen through the fear and the pain. "There you go. Good boy. Just breathe."

"It hurts," he whimpered.

"I know. But it will heal, and the pain will fade from your memory." They tapped his forehead. "The only thing you need to remember is the lesson."

I wish I didn't heal. I wish you didn't forget. I wish you could see the marks of what you've done to me, so you'd know I've suffered enough already. I wish you didn't have a blank canvas every single time.

I wish you pitied me enough to be kinder.

"I'll remember," he promised weakly. "I'll listen. Th-thank you for protecting me, Master."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @auroragehenna @whumpedydump

[the-sprog]

"so.... You're not the same person?"

"No," he really hopes they'll attribute his racing heartbeat and sweating face to nervousness and anxiety, and not because he's blatantly lying through his teeth.

"Who is he then?" He's sure that if he could see his face, Batman would be raising an eyebrow.

Or maybe not, maybe he's just as expressionless without his mask.

"Well..." Ok, Billy. You can do this. You've lied to police officers for harder things to hide. You have the excuse of magic this time. You can do it. "I guess you could say he's... My dad...?" That's surely not going to come back to bite him in the ass anytime soon.

Fuck Batman and fuck his face recognition software.

"You don't sound too sure yourself." Dammit Supes, you're supposed to be on his side, not poking holes in his story!

"It's kinda complicated. It's magic bullshit." He can feel the judgemental stares at his swearing, but he's freaking out too much to care about what the Justice League thinks of his politeness.

"Basically," he continues, not giving them the chance of asking questions again, "think about it this way. He's the one with the powers, and- and nothing actually happens to me if he gets hurt." Ok, technical truth. He can do this.

"So do you... Like... Switch places then?"

"Yes, that's exactly what happens." He thanks Superman mentally.

"What happens to you then?"

"Uuuhmmm." THINK THINK THINK. "It's like- well, basically... Only one of us can exist on any give plane of existence." Are those words too big for an 11 years old to know? Possibly. But he does learn a thing or two by being Marvel and constantly being surrounded by adults who spoke like they came out of a dictionary.

Or a court case.

"So you go... Where?" 'Flash if you don't stop asking questions,' Billy mentally threatens, 'I will make sure there is no food for you at the Watchtower or so help me Gods. I'll become the biggest annoyance you've ever had the displasure of dealing with'

"The Rock of Eternity." Probably his best lie yet.

"And it's.... Safe for you in the... Rock?" Diana, you beautiful, wonderful woman. Why would you do this to him?

Billy nods. "Yes, only we can go there. Well, and people we allow inside. But we don't do that." And Freddy doesn't count.

Neither does Darla.

And Mary.

And Pedro.

Eugene.

None of the rest of his family counts, let's leave it at that.

"As long as the Champion of Magic is there to protect it, it's the safest place one could be in"

'If you strong enough to resist the temptations of the embodiment of the Seven Deadly Sins, that is' he didn't say. He thought it, though.

Gosh he hopes Martian Man Hunter hasn't been reading his mind this whole time.

That would be awkward, to say the least.

"But why are you two like this- what happened?" Well Flash is not going to eat in the tower for a good while.

Billy fidgets. One last lie. Can he 'technically the truth' his way out of this one?

"Well... Marvel is not... Really my dad. He's more like...." C'mon words, c'mon. "His ghost or-or his... His legacy! Yeah. And a few years ago- there's a Wizard involved. We got the blessings of the Gods and- I don't actually know the details." Mostly because the details don't actually exists.

But they don't need to know that.

The other heroes share a glace.

He knows they're not happy about the whole situation. He doesn't even want to imagine what they'd say if they knew he was lying.

Vaguely, he remembers about a conversation Robin and Superboy had. Something that Nightwing and Hood brought on. Something about Batman and his tendency of pulling children under his wing.

Suddenly, Billy becomes self conscious of the holes in his clothes, the dirt-stained jeans, his hair that he clearly cut himself, the bruises and scrapes under the fabric that the other heroes can't even see.

He must really look like something alright.

"Can we talk to the Captain, kid?" He's surprised that throughout all of this none of them had even asked his name.

"Yeah, sure." He yells the magic word, with a passing thought of not having well calculated having to pose as two separate people in their eyes now.

[avaantares]

Re: your idea for that fic where Sparda comes back- any more details or thoughts on how he'd feel about Trish? 👀 I can only imagine how conflicted he'd feel, since she's a construct of Mundus, but has his wife's face, and is also a demon who protects humans, but acts Like That-- how do you think they'd react to each other? I can't imagine she'd be very happy in this situation either...

Ahahaha you have the best timing, because it's 1 AM and I just had a Thing happen and wound up on a 911 call and can't sleep because I'm still waiting for the adrenaline to clear my system, so I turned on my laptop to write and generally distract myself until my pulse rate drops to two digits (it's been almost an hour and it hasn't gone down yet) and lo, there was an Ask about a story! So I'm going to answer right now because it's something to do that isn't worrying about the Thing that just happened, but I apologize in advance if my writing is a little... uh... more jittery than usual. Because *I* sure am.

(For those unfamiliar with the above-referenced fic post, it's here.)

The first letdown would definitely be the worst. Sparda has been trapped in the underworld for decades, and his one thought the whole time has been returning home to his family (as he tells Nero). Then he finds out Red Grave has been destroyed -- and by his own son! -- and he's trying hard to stay calm, but some part of his mind has to be in a spiral because he knows Eva is only human and would be at risk, but can't bear to think that his son would be so irredeemable as to cause harm to come to his own mother, but he also can't imagine that if Eva were alive she would have allowed Vergil to become... whatever he's turned into that he's now destroying cities, and he just goes in ever-widening circles of panic.

He's also starting to process just how long it's been. Nero, his grandson, is already in his mid-to-late 20s (if I'm setting this post-CotFA, he'd be 26 or 27), so Sparda estimates he has likely been imprisoned for some 40 years or more. Human lifespans are short; even if she is alive, Eva could be in her 70s, in the sunset of her life.

And in the middle of all of this fretting and fear and denial, he looks up and he sees her. Eva, young and beautiful and alive, just as he left her. The joy and relief sweep everything else away for one moment...

...and then he feels it. This isn't Eva, but a demon wearing her beloved face. A creature tainted with the essence of Mundus, his archenemy and captor. To Sparda, she is the vilest form of blasphemy -- a mockery of his sainted wife.

(This is not lost on Trish, who has also had to process a little bit of guilt in regard to her resemblance to Eva. See also: CotFA chapter 8)

Sparda cannot tolerate Trish's existence, but he is not yet recovered enough to destroy her outright, which gives Nero and Lady a chance to intervene and keep him from doing any serious damage. Because Nero is the one who freed him (and he's not eager to fight his own descendant), Sparda respects his wishes and stands down, but he's infuriated and fully intends to deal with Trish once he has a better grasp on the present situation -- and has seen his sons, one of whom is apparently friendly with this abomination, according to Nero.

(Nero assumes that "Gramps" only attacked Trish because she's obviously a demon and he's an old demon hunter; he doesn't catch on to Sparda's identity just yet. Trish, for her part, keeps quiet because 1) she never actually met Sparda, assumed Mundus had killed him, and has no idea how the real Sparda could be here now, and 2) she doesn't want to say anything prematurely, since it might get back to Dante and raise his hopes, only to disappoint him if this turns out to be a mere copy of his father.)

Throughout the rest of their underworld mission, Sparda retains his antagonism toward Trish in much the same way that Vergil did, at first -- he can't bring himself to look at her and doesn't want anything to do with her, including working directly alongside her or listening to her suggestions. Though Dante's emotions are running wild after the reunion with his father, he does take a firm stand whenever Sparda lashes out at Trish; he's spent a lot more years of his life with Trish, and while Sparda may be his progenitor, Trish is his family.

Over time, as they continue their quest and ultimately work as a team to take down the semi-resurrected Mundus, Sparda will grudgingly acknowledge that Trish is not evil and respect her fierce loyalty to Dante. It definitely bothers him that Dante is so attached to Trish, because he still sees her as something inherently wrong, but he comes to terms with her existence and no longer feels the need to obliterate her. It still hurts him to look at her sometimes, though.

Though Dante insists she doesn't have to change for anyone, Trish recognizes how hard it is for Sparda to see the face of the woman he loved and has effectively just lost, and has not yet had time or space to grieve. She makes subtle changes to her appearance to set herself apart from Eva: Bold makeup. Statement jewelry. A new hairstyle. The odd splash of color in her hair or outfit. It seems to help, and in the end Sparda comes to regard her as something like Eva's radically disparate twin, rather than an inferior copy.

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Eyyy, it's now 1:45 AM and my pulse rate is finally down to 98! Huzzah!

[fallingintolife]

Oh, Come On!

Request: Reader proposing to dean and dean getting legitimately mad because he wanted to propose first

Summary: You and Dean had never intended on falling for each other in the first place, but here you both were years later and now it was time for someone to pop the question. Or maybe two someone's…?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: A few curses, and of course some angst…but mostly all the fluff 💕

Word Count: 1,462

A/N: @smiling-girl I'm sorry this one took me a little bit but I really hope you enjoy it! It was fun to get into Dean's character and I'm kind of excited to do it more 💕

If you asked anyone who knew Dean Winchester if they ever thought he'd settle down, get married, and leave the hunter life for an apple pie one, they'd immediately tell you there was no way. Dean had always said that that life just wasn't in the cards for him. Until he met you. You were a hunter at a young age just like Dean and had also never seen yourself settling down with anyone. Which was why you and Dean had even started hooking up in the first place. It started with just flirting, then hooking up when you were both in the same area on a hunt, to helping each other on hunts, to then meeting up wherever you could even if you weren't exactly in the same area. That was when things went from casual hook ups to having real feelings for each other.

You both tried to deny your feelings because that wasn't part of the plan! You both had never planned on actually caring for each other and…falling in love. A few fights and self-sabotages later you both finally came to the conclusion that you both would at least try to give this a shot. Because you both knew how this would most likely end but were at peace with that.

Fast forward five years later and now here you are, living in the Bunker with both of the boys and more nervous than you had ever been in your entire life. Which…damn, that meant something since you had been hunting since you were eight… This decision though would either end with you and Dean being engaged (which was the best case scenario) or end with him rejecting you meaning you would have ruined the best relationship you had ever had. (worst case scenario…which to be honest was probably more likely going to be the outcome because you'd  never had good luck to begin with and neither had Dean…) You wanted this though. And God willing you hope Dean did too…

Tonight you and Dean had scheduled a date night, meaning going on a drive in Baby, grabbing dinner at the local diner, and then parking in an open lot while looking up at the stars before you both headed home. It was going to be the absolute perfect time to propose to Dean. Rather he'd like to admit it or not Dean loved a good chick flick, and proposing under the stars while in Baby? If that wasn't the picture perfect part in a chick flick then hell- you didn't know what was.

Dean actually hadn't even noticed that you had been nervous all night. Because truth be told, Dean was also battling with the same thoughts and feelings as you were.

Dean had tried, really tried not to fall for you. He tried to push you away, self sabotaged, and even yelled at you, thinking that one of those things would make you run for the hills. The irony about the whole situation though was that you tried to use those same tactics on him. Which just showed him that you cared just as much as he did, and that you were just as scared to fuck it all up. Dean and you had talked about how people like them didn't get happy endings. There was no apple pie life for them. They knew that when they did finally die that it would be during a hunt. That was when Dean had come to the conclusion that you were both on the same page. That was when he proposed that you both should give your relationship a try. To his surprise you agreed. He honestly didn't think you'd stay. I mean, who wants to be with someone like him? A ticking, self-loathing time bomb? You apparently and shit, if that's what you wanted, knowing good and well about the consequences…he was okay with that.

So, now, here he was driving to an empty lot that he always drove to for you both to look at the stars and finally propose. And he was terrified.

Because he loved you. Dean Winchester loved you. So he at least had to ask you to marry him. I mean, he didn't think you'd stay as long as you had in the first place. He had to try and if that meant him having to beg you to stay because he didn't know what he would do without you? Well then he'd do it because dammit- Dean would do anything for you.

Before you knew it, Dean had parked Baby in what became her normal spot here when you came. The radio was playing quietly in the background and the night sky was particularly lit up, full of stars tonight. This was it. You could do this.

"Um…Dean?" Clearing your throat you looked over at him, both of your eyes meeting.

"Yeah sweetheart?" He raised an eyebrow at her, gently pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. It was now or never.

"Um I…do you remember what you told me when we finally decided to give this relationship thing a shot?" Dean sat back for a second rubbing his chin in thought, and then laughed.

"I'm pretty sure I told you that you must be bat shit crazy if you thought being with me was a good idea, which you replied with-"

"Right back at you Winchester." You cut him off as you laughed reliving that moment. You then took a deep breath as you looked into his green eyes.

"Look Dean…I…I think that neither of us thought this would work out…but by some miracle it has. And I know that hunters don't have happy ends, that- that's just how it goes…but I don't need a happy ending like in a fairytale or-or a rom-com. As long as I am with you I'm happy." Your hand shakily pulled the small ring box out of your jean pocket and held it in front of him.

"Dean Winchester, will you marry me?" You held your breath, eyes locked on his, praying if not for him to say yes, then at least for him to say something…

"Son of a bitch!" Okay well…maybe not that…you definitely weren't expecting that to come out of his mouth and with such an angry tone…so you had now found a worse worst case scenario…

"Dean…I'm…I'm sorry. I- I just…I'm sorry. Forget I said anyth-"

"You couldn't give me five more minutes? And in Baby! I can't believe you'd steal my thunder like that!" Dean was squeezing the bridge of his nose in what seemed like…frustration? So now you were confused. Really confused. Before you could even ask what the hell he was talking about he was holding his mom's ring in front of you. Wait. He was…he was going to propose? To you? Tonight? "You didn't even give me the chance to pull out the good stuff or anything." You stared at him incredulously when you realized what the problem was.

"Wait. Are you-are you mad that I proposed to you first?" Dean let out a huff.

"Well…yeah! I mean I had this whole speech planned out and you beat me to it…" Dean was staring down at the ring he held in-between his fingers. He was more angry with himself that you felt like you had to propose because you never thought he would. However, that was not your thoughts at all.

"Ask me." A slight whisper, just loud enough for Dean to hear, made him look up at you. A smile was slowly appearing on your lips as tears, happy tears, began to glimmer in your eyes. "Ask me." You said again. He couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face as he held the ring out to her with one hand, and gently caressed his thumb against your cheek with the other.

"Y/N, sweetheart, will you marry me?"

"Yes. A thousand times yes!" You immediately kissed him, happy tears falling down your face (and some from Dean's, even though he'd never admit it…). Dean slipped the engagement ring on your finger.

"Yes. To me, wanting to marry you too, you know, since you asked." You let out a giggle of delight, placing the pure silver ring on his finger.

As much as it frustrated Dean that you had beat him to the punch at first, once he realized that you did actually want him and you wanted to be with him; nothing else mattered. Nothing but you and him for the rest of the time you both had left. If you were both gonna go you were go out together and that's all Dean could ask for, was for you to be by his side for the rest of his life.