#the moment after you throw a plate straight up and it pauses. just for an instant before it falls

[eat-limes-bitches]

Attitude Adjustment

PAIRING: Female! Chiropractor! Reader x Avenger!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Pain affects everyone. Even 106-year-old assassins

WARNINGS: Smidge of Angst, mostly Fluff. Grumpy! Bucky. Some of Bucky's negative self-image but very little. Talks of chiropractic adjustment so cracking joints but nothing too bad. Sam's a little shit. Probably poorly written but oh well.

Word Count: 1006

A/N: Hey guys! I know the last two posts have been really heart-wrenching so here is something a little light-hearted to counteract what I'm gonna be posting next. I am going to be starting chiropractic school in the fall and I know that it has really helped me with some chronic pain stuff that I have going on even with my crazy high pain tolerance so thought Bucky could use some adjustments too!

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

Y/n watched Bucky from across the gym, analyzing his movements as he tried to continue his set. There was a slight dip in his step as he walked over to the weight plates and a subtle clench of his jaw as he lifted the plate onto the bar. Maybe he’s just sore, she mused as she returned to her stretches. The room around her was slowly disappearing when there was a loud bang and a shout. She jumped, eyes flying open as she shot her gaze across the room where Bucky held his ribs under his left arm while Sam laughed. 

 “What’s wrong, tin man? Age finally catching up to you?” Bucky shot a nasty glare at the man, 

“You won’t be laughing when I drown you in the creek,” Bucky growled as he took a threatening step toward Sam.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam placated as he took a step backward. “I was just messin’ with ya man!” Bucky just glared at him again and knocked his metallic shoulder against Sam’s as he stormed off towards the exit. Sam made eye contact with Y/n, shrugging his shoulders and motioning towards the door as if he were saying, ‘Get a load of that guy’. Y/n shook her head and made a mental note to check on him later.

Sometime later after Y/n had finished her workout, she ventured to Bucky’s room, pausing just outside the door. Steadying herself with a breath, she gently rapped on the door. There was a deep groan from the other side of the door, and before Y/n was able to make some space between her and the door, it flew open, revealing a rather disgruntled Bucky, eyes narrowing as he took in her form. 

“What.” He grunts out glare unwavering from her smaller form in the doorway. Y/n steadied herself with a reminder that he was in pain and to not let it get to her. She instead matched his gaze.

“You’re in pain.” She stated cooly observing his reaction as he shifted weight off of his left leg, rolling his eyes.

“Right, ‘cause you can tell from across a room.” He scoffed. Y/n let out an indignant huff as she looked him up and down.

“You’re favoring the left side of your body, and anyone can see that. Your hips are crooked from compensating the extra weight on the left side of your body. You have a slight limp which is throwing your body further out of alignment, and since Steve pinned you during training on Tuesday, you’ve been protecting your left ribcage which was then further aggravated from your bench pressing today.”

Bucky stared at her, eyes wide. “H-how do you know all that?” Y/n’s gaze softened as she gave him a gentle smile. 

“Buck, I’m a chiropractor, I’m trained to see these things. I can help you feel better if you’d like.” She noticed the hesitance in his eyes as he thought about her offer. 

“You know you are allowed help right?” She whispered, placing a hand on his arm. 

Bucky searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to pull away and just laugh, tell him it was all a joke, and walk away but it never came, she just stood there, hand spreading warmth through his arm, smile sending butterflies straight to his stomach. Letting out a breath, he nodded, letting Y/n take his hand and lead him to her office. 

The room was bright, the afternoon sun coming in through the window painted everything in a golden glow. Y/n motioned to the table in the middle of the room.

“Here, lay face down for me.” She said gently, patting the table. Bucky did as he was told,  and melted into the comfortable cushion as Y/n danced her fingers up and down his spine. She paused at the very base of his neck moved her fingers towards his shoulder and gently pressed down. Bucky yelped slightly and jerked away from her touch. 

“I’m sorry Buck, I won’t do it again but that just confirmed my suspicion,” Y/n murmured as she walked around the table, placing the heel of her palms on his upper back.

“Yeah, and what's that?” Bucky grumbled, starting to regret his decision. 

Y/n gave a sharp thrust, and a satisfying pop rang out through the room, startling Bucky. “Your first rib was out of place.” Bucky pushed himself up to look at Y/n wide-eyed. 

“My first rib is out of place!” She just smiled.

“Was. I put it back. That's what that sound was.” 

This went on for a few more minutes. Y/n would palpate different parts of his body, there would be a pop, and Bucky make some sort of surprised noise. Eventually, Y/n made the last adjustment and helped Bucky sit up before taking a seat next to him. 

“How do you feel?” 

Bucky rolled his shoulders before stretching both of his arms above his head. His eyes widened as he snapped his head to meet Y/n’s gaze. Shock was written all over his features as he stood up and wasn’t greeted with the sharp sting that he had grown accustomed to in his lower back. 

“Wow, that-that’s amazing!” He sent a heart-stopping grin in Y/n’s direction. 

“Thank you, Y/n I feel much better.” He said sincerely, taking Y/n’s hand in his as thanked her. Y/n blushed.

“Of course Bucky. Anytime.”

The pair wandered into the main living room where everyone was gathered. Bucky gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze before strolling over to Steve and putting him in a headlock, laughing and carrying on. Y/n smiled as she watched them when Sam wandered over.

“What did you do to him?” He asked. Y/n just smiled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky, who was now arm-wrestling Tony who was using his suit.

“Nothing really just gave him an attitude adjustment.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x chiropractor reader #bucky x chiropractor reader

[junkdrawerfics]

Game On

(one of my favorite clips, lowkey)

Jasper X Reader

Summary: A little snippet of wolf!reader playing baseball with the Cullens. You and Emmett have a little rivalry going, and you'll do anything for some Jasper scratches.

Word Count: 1021

---

“You sure you can keep up with us, wolfie?” Emmet calls from the batter’s box with an absolutely snarky grin.

You cock a brow at him, settling into a crouch with an equally vicious smile, “Just you watch me, Em, you won’t make it to first base.”

“I’d like to see that,” he taunts back, twisting his grip on the bat and posing it over his shoulder.

Jasper chuckles from across the field, the sound easily reaching your sensitive ears, “Take it easy on him, darlin’.”

“No can do, Jas.” Your friendly rivalry with Emmett started as soon as you and Jasper got together, only made worse by you being a shifter. Competitiveness runs deep in your blood. “Someone has to put him in his place, and you pansies sure aren’t going to.”

“Ooh-” Emmett hisses through his teeth dramatically. “-you gonna let her talk to you like that?”

“I’m not one to get offended by a few words,” Jasper shoots back, smirk all too cocky, “Not like when you whined a full week when she called you a cream puff.”

“Hey-”

“It’s time!” Alice chimes before Emmett can stand up for himself.

You snicker and he throws a glare your way.

Game on.

With your enhanced speed and strength, you put up a good fight against the vampires. It’s almost unfair, you and Jasper working perfectly in sync, getting them out one at a time. On your turn to bat, the feeling of smashing the ball, brutal and unrestrained, makes your whole body spark to life, driving you through the plates like a flash of lightning. It’s exhilarating.

Nearing the end of the thunderstorm, the game is close, your team up by one run. Emmett is back up to bat. Chest heaving, heart pounding, you make eye contact with him and, with the most wolfish smile, mouth a silent, ‘Bring it.’

Emmett scowls, eyes focusing back on Alice, and you hear Jasper chuckle softly.

Alice winds up, moving with practiced ease, and launches the baseball straight down the line. A crack of thunder overlaps the loud ring of the bat slamming into it, and it goes flying. You go flying after it.

You tear through the trees, eyes bright with glee as you follow the ball. The wind whips your hair around wildly, the damp ground giving way under your feet. You feel free. Out of breath, every muscle aching, but free. The moment right before your feet leave the ground, adrenaline surges through every cell of your body and you explode into a mess of fur and snapping teeth.

You jump, far too high, far too fast. But your teeth clamp down on the baseball, practically ripping through the leather, before you go crashing to the ground in a flurry of dirt and grass. The earth shakes at your impact, the sound louder than the storm’s thunder.

“(Y/n)!”

The family of vampires freeze, eyes wide. Jasper races after you. Worry burns through his veins as he comes to a stop at the crater’s edge. Gold eyes narrowed, he desperately searches through the haze of dirt for a sign that you’re okay.

Then you pop back up, and all his concern dissipates. You, in wolf form, look up at him with happy, squinted eyes, the ball still clamped firmly in your jaws. Your whole body practically shakes with how hard your tail is wagging.

“Well look at you,” the blond sighs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know wolves could fly, darlin’.”

Shaking off the dirt clinging to your fur, you scramble out of the hole you created. Without hesitation, you push into Jasper’s open arms. He chuckles as you wiggle in his grip, letting out little happy huffs as he scratches your head. You love it when he gives you scratches in wolf form, it’s like getting a massage in human form.

“You know-” You perk your ears and pause to look up at his slanted, mischievous grin. “-Emmett won’t like this.”

You let out a muffled ‘woof’. He better not like it, because he just signed his defeat. You won. The thought makes you growl happily as you adjust the ball in your mouth. Time to show off your victory.

Jasper sticks by your side and you trot back to the field. The moment you reach the tree line, Emmett lets out a loud, rumbling groan.

“That has to be cheating!”

“Umpire?”

Everyone turns to Esme. Emmett looks so hopeful, but then she looks at you and winks. You’ve never been so happy to see someone’s face plummet.

“You’re out, Emmett.”

You drop the ball and let out a small victorious howl. The man glares at you playfully, but you catch the smallest glimpse of a smile when you do a few happy stomps and throw yourself at Jasper. The blond grunts as your full weight takes you both to the ground. 

“Darlin’,” he wheezes out a bright laugh, “you’re crushing me.”

You huff, not caring even a bit as you drop your head on top of his chest. More scratches. You deserve more scratches, you won the game! Jasper can feel your insistence, having grown accustomed to reading your more chaotic emotions in this form, and gives in when you nudge him with your nose, licking his face. He curls his fingers through your thick fur, earning a happy grumble from you.

“We’re going to head back to the house,” Carlisle announces, voice ringing with amusement, “Feel free to join us when you would like to.”

Which ends up being far later in the night because there is something so lovely about just curling up with your vampire and watching the stars come out. He eventually goes and retrieves your extra clothes (he started keeping some with him after several phasing accidents) and you return to the Cullen household, where you mercilessly mock Emmett.

“How does it feel to lose to a wolf, cream puff?”

“(Y/n), I swear to God I’m gonna-”

You dash up the stairs, giggling wildly. Jasper follows behind slowly, tossing the bigger vampire a smug grin.

“Next time, you shouldn’t underestimate her.”

---

This idea came to me at like midnight and I wrote down the idea and I love it. I hope you guys enjoyed it too!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #wolf reader #baseball scene #wrote this listening to super massive blackhole

[simonrillleyyysss]

thinking about being cuddled up with simon on a cold cloudy winter/autumn day :,) with hot chocolate of course, AND BAKING COOKIES

the slow transition from autumn to winter is definitely his fave part

‘how long do they have to be left there?’

simons gruff voice barked out, kneeling down infront of the oven—which was now set with an ember light, the cookies on the tray slowly rising.

‘12 minutes, i think..’

you called back from the sofa, eyes fixated on the television while swirling the thick, chocolatey substance around with the straw, marshmallows bubbling atop the whipped cream, gently taking a sip from the straw, blowing on the mug to cool it down.

‘y’ think?’

‘well, i dunno—i’m not really a cookie expert, simon.’

you retorted, rolling your eyes as he hummed, rising to his full height before slumping over to the sofa, eyebrow cocking upwards as he glanced towards the screen.

‘whatcha watching?’

‘gilmore girls.’

there was silence for s moment, before he just nodded his head and hummed, lifting the blanket from you and throwing it atop his lap while you slowly peer over at him in dissatisfaction.

‘what?’

he piped, itching the back of his neck as he laid against the pillows scattered behind him, yawning dramatically and stretching his legs out, resting them atop your lap.

‘..are you actually being serious? it’s freezing, you took my blanket and now this—‘

‘hm?’

‘get off me!’

with a high whine, you pushed his legs off of your lap; only for him to move them back up straight after, chuckling in amusement.

‘give me a kiss and i’ll consider it.’

‘what are you, ten?’

‘thought you loved me?’

he stated, watching your brows knit together before groaning, leaning over to peck him on the lips for a second, pulling back to take a sip of your hot chocolate, nudging his towards him.

‘call that a kiss? guess it’ll do.’

simon said with a long sigh, faux anger coming onto his face.

‘oh-come on, sisi!’

you complained, looking over at him with pursed lips and a scrunched nose, finishing off your hot chocolate before standing up, flopping ontop of the burly figure now beneath you, kissing his nose affectionately as he took a sip from his hot chocolate.

‘gosh, yr’ heavy.

‘siiiiii!’

‘just teasing, sugar.’

the brit chuckled, arms moving to wrap around your waist, your legs, which were being heated by pyjama bottoms, straddled his lap, head pressed against his chest with a pout, cheek smushing against it.

‘this shows so bad.’

‘you haven’t even watched it, simon.’

‘because it’s bad.’

-

‘atleast theyre not burnt!’

you said with a sense of pride, smallpiping bag filled to the brim with frosting in your hand as you decorated the sugar cookies cookies, licking the remains off of your fingers.

‘that’s so unhygienic, dirty brute.’

simon rasped, tutting his tongue as he reached over to dap a bit of the frosting onto his finger, putting it flat against his tongue and humming in approval.

‘you’re worse!’

‘i didn’t do it first, though. yr’ being a bad influence.’

with a roll of your eyes, you reached down to take a cookie—placing it in your mouth and biting down, chewing for a few seconds before giving him a thumbs up.

‘whuere rhealluh ghood!’

you muffled while chewing, pausing and swallowing before continuing your sentence.

‘they’re really good, we could be like—bakers!’

‘yeah, sure thing..’

‘swear!’

ghost took a bite from the cookie, chewing for a moment before shrugging.

‘i’ve had better.’

‘that’s what i say after sex.’

you mumbled beneath your breath, rolling your eyes.

‘what the fuck did you sa-‘

‘nufin.’

you quickly cut him off, tucking your hair behind your ear before lifting the tray, sliding them onto a plate and heading to the livingroom, nibbling on them contently as your attention turned to the foggy air outside, trees dead with leafs scuttered across the sidewalks and grass.

‘wonder what santa is gonna get y’ for christmas.’

simon said lowly, sitting down and wrapping his arm around your waist, patting your hip as you snuggled into him lovingly, eyes closed.

‘oh, fuck off.’

‘love you too, sexy.’

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost is babygirl #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon riley x oc #simon riley ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simonrillleyyysss

[izurou]

“remember when you proposed to me?”

of course atsumu remembers, it’s a moment he’ll never forget—no matter how hard he tries.

sometimes, he’ll lay in bed at night filing through the memories from that night—everything was so right. the pink and orange hues that lit up the evening sky, the flawless sear on that steak he cooked you, and that awesome batman movie you watched after said steak—it was all perfect. so why was your answer still no?

“i thought we agreed to forget about that?” he replies, glancing up from the soap covered dish in his hands.

he knows—you’ve told him over and over that it just wasn’t the right time. marriage is a big step, especially for a young couple, and you weren’t sure if your relationship was ready to take that step just yet. that doesn’t mean you loved him any less, and you were very adamant about him understanding that.

“we did, but i was thinking,” you pause, grabbing the plate from him and rinsing it off. “what if we even it out? i’ll propose to you, and you can reject me.”

he side eyes you as he plunges his hands back into the water, feeling around for the next victim. he pulls a spoon out, and you can see a little smile tugging at his lips.

“alright,” he turns to you, removing his hands from the sink and reaching for the towel hanging off the oven handle. “i’ve gotta see this.”

“will you marry me?” you say it like it’s the most casual sentence to ever leave your mouth—rookie mistake.

“at least get down on one knee! c’mon, get serious, i wanna be swept off my feet!” he throws the towel over his shoulder and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting.

you sigh, but a little smile of your own creeps up as you kneel before him. he truly is beautiful from this angle—each and every muscle highlighted perfectly despite the dim lighting. god, has he always looked this good? you’ve been here many times before, but never with such pure intent.

“atsumu, will you marry me?”

“hm, good question,” he mumbles, tapping a finger on his chin as he stares off into the void.

“seriously?” you scoff, placing a hand on the edge of the counter as you attempt to stand up.

“ah ah ah,” he hums, pressing a palm against your chest and making you stay down. “where’re your manners? i’m still thinkin’!”

“since when do you do that?” you mutter, and immediately—you know you shouldn’t have.

“since when do you do that?” he raises the pitch of his voice to match yours, mocking you as he throws his hands in the air. “really? is that any way to speak to your future husband?”

“uh, it depends?” you respond, and you’re not sure why it comes out as a question, but it does. you can never tell with this guy, is he actually upset, or is it all part of his circus act?

“y’know what, no. ’m never marrying you.” he turns on his heels, and just like that he’s back to doing the dishes—how odd.

apart from the rain pattering against the glass, and the subtle but frequent splish splash of water from atsumu, it’s quiet.

he’s joking, right? of course he is, you know he is. but, he’s never going to marry you. never. is this what you get for saying no? the promise of being single forever? has that bitch karma finally caught up to you?

“never?” you whisper as you rise to your feet. he stares straight ahead, either lost in thought, or just super interested in watching the water droplets fall from the gutters outside.

but he knows—he’s been told over and over that it just wasn’t the right time. still, that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

he finally turns his head, and shit, you have that pout on your face—the one that makes his heart feel like it’s been put in a chokehold.

“hey, tuck that back in!” he exclaims, pressing his index finger against your bottom lip. “c’mon don’t be makin’ that face.”

“you don’t want to marry me anymore?” you ask, silently cursing yourself for sounding so needy. you said no—and now look at you, all wide eyed and nervous. pathetic.

“course i do,” he huffs, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you closer. “only an idiot who wants to get married would propose after five months.”

he must’ve been an actor in a past life.

“you’re not an idiot,” you reassure, and you’re positive that a certain atsumu lookalike and his brunette boyfriend would put you to shame for saying that—but it’s true. “i think i’m the idiot.”

you are, and quite a big one at that. five months ago, that night felt so right. atsumu dragged the dining room table a little to the left so you could see the pretty sunset as you ate—there’s a scuff mark on the floor to prove it. atsumu had steak for a week straight as he tried to perfect it—he was already sick of it by the fourth day. atsumu pirated the new batman movie after he heard you say you wanted to go see it—now his computer has a virus. it was perfect, all of it. so why was your answer still no?

“yeah, who the hell rinses in cold water?” he points to your side of the sink as he laughs, and you think you fall in love a little more—if that’s even in the realm of possibility anymore.

you were scared. of commitment? of divorce? of love? probably a mix of all three. but now, you’re certain, and you’d never make the same mistake twice.

“i meant for saying no to you, atsumu. i’ll never turn you down again.” you wrap your arms around his torso, and he stiffens up. jeez, what now?

“well,” he grabs your shoulders and peels you off, breathing out a puff of air. he smiles, and it’s suspiciously sweet, but then—he gets on one knee.

“whaddya say then, angel? will you marry me?”

#izurou #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu hcs #hq fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x you #hq x you

[justatasteofyourpoison]

The morning after the night before…

(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem reader fanfiction)

Part 5

Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader

Plot: A hungover you speaks to Angel and Husk to try to dig up more information about the Radio Demon’s past ruts…

Warnings: 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, adult themes, fluff

Word count: 1.1k

————————————————————————

You awoke in a haze, ears ringing, head pounding, face down in the pillow. You turned over with a groan and looked at the time - 11am. “Oh God how much did I drink?” you questioned, trying to make you body sit itself up in bed. After a triumphant effort you sat up and looked around the room.

You noticed your clothes were carefully placed on the chair in the corner, a pint of water sat on your side table and you were wearing your pjamas, things usually impossible for drunken Y/N. Someone must have got you home safely. You took a large swig of water, it flooding your hungover body with life like the desert rain and you could finally start to think. “Only Angel Dust would go to these lengths for little ol drunk me” you thought feeling incredibly greatful to be blessed with such a good friend. “I should go and thank him.” You swung your legs round to meet the floor and paused for a moment “I feel like something happened last night. Maybe some food and a chat would set me straight” you mused groggily.

As you put your dressing gown on and headed to the door you noticed a bow tie that Alastor had accidentally left in your room after a late night rendevouz a few nights back. You smiled to yourself as you remembered the night’s antics. But then it finally dawned on you what last night entailed. Angel Dust was questioning you about your involvement with Alastor and how you were the first girl he’d seen with him. Your gut wrenched. You knew you wanted to speak to Alastor more than anything, but didn’t want him to see you so hungover and disheveled. You decided to freshen up and speak to Angel Dust before facing the Radio Demon…

The toaster popped with a clunky bang and you swiftly chucked the two slices on a plate, no butter today, dry toast and tea was your hangover cure. You exited the kitchen to the lobby and saw that Angel Dust was already sat at the bar. “She lives!” He exclaimed throwing his gangly arms in the air as he clocked sight of you. “She does, just” you said sleepily taking a seat next to him.

“You look like shit toots, glad we didn’t stay out any longer!” he laughed giving you a pat on the back. “Thanks for getting me back safe Angel” you said greatfully.

“Don’t sweat it hun. The amount of times I’ve ended up in the gutter I wouldn’t wish it on anyone” he shrugged taking a sip of his coffee.

“Angel…” you started sheepishly. “We talked last night didn’t we?” you said avoiding his gaze. “I knew this would come up” Angel said coolly “Look Y/N, I’m not gonna tell anyone about you and Mr Creepy Radio Pants” he said in a quieter tone.

“And I really appreciate that” you said genuinely “but, I feel like you let me into an insight about Alastor last night. You said how he never really dated anyone?” you questioned.

“Ah yeah no, he is an enigma when it comes to relationships and sex ‘n’ all that” Angel reflected “that’s why when he started sneaking around with you I was surprised. But you said how he’s in a rut, so I guess a man has needs right?”

“Definitely true” you responded. “But Alastor has been in hell a long time, so would have rutted every year. But you say you’ve never known him showing interest in relieving himself with anyone per say. So my question is - why me now? And what did he used to do while he was rutting?” You said gazing up at the skulls that loomed over the bar ominously. “Don’t get yourself worked up sugar. Maybe he has been off getting his dick wet in the past, who knows? As I said - he’s an enigma. You gotta talk to him sweety.” He said with a sympathetic smile.

“Afternoon folks” a raspy voice chimed. Husk appeared behind the bar and grabbed a green bottle off the shelf before pouring himself a small glass. The sight of alcohol being poured made you feel queasy. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes” he laughed taking a sip of his whisky. “Always love your honesty Husk!” you chuckled.

“You guys have a good night and stay out of trouble?” He said, darting his eyes towards Angel.

“Yeah good fun, some revelations too…” Angel chimed grinning at you. “Angel don’t, please” you whispered, your eyes pleading.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Husk said casually leaning on the bar in front of you and smiling wryly, “that she’s fuckin’ the Radio Demon?”

“DOES EVERYONE KNOW?” You exclaimed a little too loudly before slumping you head down on the bar. Husk placed his face by you head and whispered “Remember my room is next to Alastor’s. If you didn’t want anyone knowing maybe you shoudn’t have been so damn loud!” He stood up and roared with laughter. You felt your face burning scarlet against the bar. “I’m sorry little lady, me and Angel have had our suspicions for some time.” he said pouring himself a larger glass.

“She’s having a crisis cos I told her she’s the first one I’ve seen him sneaking around with. Got her questioning things…” Angel said trying to pull you back up from the bar. Reluctantly, you sat up and faced them. “Do you know anything Husk? Have you ever heard of Alastor rutting and going off with anyone?” you said quietly.

“Honestly, no” Husk contemplated. “The Radio Demon has always been obsessed with power and I should know.” He scowled at the thought of his deal with the Demon. “But no, I’ve never heard of him being interested in sex or relationships or anything. However…” he placed his head in his hand deep in thought. “At certain times of year Alastor had been more volatile, now that I think of it. He would bite at me over the smallest indiscretions and his broadcasts would be more frequent and more terrifying.” A shudder ran down your spine at his words.

“Maybe he was interested in other things. You know what a power crazed fuck he is!” He said with a warning tone.

You didn’t know how to feel after hearing Husk’s words. On one token you loved spending time with Alastor and the intimacy was out of this world. But what did you really know about him? Was your heart just blindsighted by lust and his charm? Did he have sinister ulterior motives? There was no doubt about it, you needed answers…

__________

All instalments:

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin hotel writing #alastor #alastor fanfiction #Alastor x fem reader #alastor x female reader #fanfic #Hazbin hotel Angel #Hazbin hotel Angel dust #Hazbin hotel husk #husker #vizziepop

[luimagines]

Homecoming (700 follower raffel)

Masterlist

Our second prize winner was @murdermansimpery

They asked for a bit of angst with a happy ending, Wild edition.

Content under the cut!

Link, currently going by Wild, slung his quiver around his hips and spun his cloak around his shoulders. You handed him a freshly cooked meal and adjusted his cloak for him as he checked his sheikah slate and shield and sword.

You sighed and tried to not let your emotions show too much on your face. “Do you have to go?”

Link pauses and sags. “You know I don’t want to. But if not me, then who else?”

“All the others who came in through the portal first.” You mutter, trying to not get angry at him. You knew he didn’t choose this life. It was just frustrating that he seemed to keep choosing it even though the job was done.

He reaches out to you and cups your cheek. You have to keep your head up and face him. You do so bitterly but keep your mouth straight and your eyes dry. Link smiles. “I’ll be back. I always come back. I promised you.”

You step into his arms, as you knew he would have wanted you to, and hugged him. You hugged him tightly. He responded in kind. You took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ll hold you to that. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I won’t.” He pulls back and places a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There’s a knock at the door and you try to not throw something at the person outside. This doesn’t seem very fair in your eyes. You clear your throat and nod towards it. “They’re calling you.”

Link nods. “Coming!”

He kisses your cheek one last time and walks away.

He opens the door, greeted by other blond and young heroes who call him Wild and Champion. Your Link looks back one last time, waving brightly and closes the door to the house. 

You give it a minute and wait. Nothing changes. Their jests and questions fade as they walk away. Soon it’s just quiet. It’s quiet and getting dark and lonely once more.

You cry. You take the nearest vase and smash it against the wall. You scream and cry and yell and collapse onto the floor until you end up tiring yourself out from the energy you spent throwing your tantrum.

You wake up sore and achy. You get up from the floor and rub the spots on your body that hurt the most. You find yourself going through the motions of your morning routine. It’s still quiet. It’s an unsettling sort of quiet that seeps into your bones and puts you on edge by something that is simply...  wrong.

You cook and eat. Only to toss the plate towards the sink in your ache. You miss and it shatters on the floor.

It’s the final straw.

Enraged and feeling righteously impulsive, you gather your own bag and pack it for yourself. You refuse to be here in this empty house all by yourself. Link traveled frequently around Hyrule with Zelda. It’s your turn.

That had been months ago.

Wild comes home, feeling a strange but welcomed emotion to being called his own name again. He’s tired but he can’t take the time to rest. He promised you that he would be home soon. While it took longer than he thought it would and there was a moment he feared that he would break his promise, he’s back now and he plans on seeing your face first after all this time.

He all but runs to his house, teleporting as close as he can before tossing himself over the terrain until he reaches his front door. Link throws it open and his smile falls.

You’re not here?

Link can’t even think to call for you. He makes one step in and steps on something crunchy. It’s the broken plate.

He instantly assumes the worst and runs back out of the house. Link starts asking neighbors, friends, family. Has anyone seen you?

They say no. They say he left and then no one saw you leave your house since.

Link begins to panic. He tells Zelda of the event and given the adventure he just returned from, she is inclined to believe that someone might have targeted you in return for being defeated.

Link first checks Death Mountain and Gorons if they have seen you or heard you or have seen anything suspicious in the time he was gone up to recently. They give him little information but they do point out that a friend of a friend saw you in the Hebra region.

Link heads there immediately. 

Teba finds him in a flurry of panic and flailing limbs. It’s not pretty.

Teba gives the poor hero more information. He saw you, yes. Taught you how to better use a bow and talked for a few days. You left soon after that and didn’t say where you were going.

Link feels a little bit better if only because his words imply that you weren’t taken. But Teba reminds him that it was weeks ago and he hasn’t seen you since.

Link takes off running again.

It’s only when Link ends up right by the wastelands where he sees a familiar silhouette. 

He yells and runs faster towards it.

You look his way and scream back. You tumble a bit down the rocky formation before he all up tackles you into a hug.

Link might start crying but he refuses to admit it. “You scared me. I came home and you weren’t there. I was looking everywhere for you.”

“Not fun when it happens to you, huh?” You say softly, hugging him back as if your life depended on it.

“I should be home now.” He whispers. “For good this time. It’s over.”

You might be crying too.

With a hidden and ignored sniffle, you pull away and wipe his face. It’s covered in mud and grass stains and just a little bit of water, you’re sure. No tears.

Link laughs, taking your hand. He’s home.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu wild #breath of the wild #link x reader #implied lu

[eirabach]

An End Has a Start [1/1]

An episode coda for 7x04. Bucktommy with implied Buddie, rated T for language. Also on ao3.

You don't work for the city, any city, for long before you realize there's a lot of money changing hands. Money that possibly, even probably, shouldn't even be in the possession of the first pair of hands, never mind wherever it ends up. It's just part of the daily drag of poverty wage civil servants; watching men in tailored suits gamble with their jobs and lives and communities, rolling the dice on whether the local elementary really needs a pool when their own pockets are only triple lined.

All of which is to say: politicos gamble.

Firefighters gamble more.

And from the moment Lucy had clocked Tommy's new and sudden interest in hanging out off duty with the 118 she'd had opinions.

Opinions that used to make Tommy laugh, but now, actually – kinda don't.

“You're late,” she says. She's sitting with her elbows propped up on the canteen table, a plate of greasy fries and half eaten sandwich in front of her, and with a twenty dollar bill dangling loose from two fingers that he very studiously ignores.

Tommy makes a show of checking his watch as he drops into the seat opposite her.

“By – oh, one minute!” He reaches over to steal a fry, but she slaps his hand away. “Crosstown traffic.”

Lucy hums. “Still a minute later than Mr Military usually is. You were crosstown?”

“You my mother?” He hooks a fry from the edge of the plate. “Yeah, I was crosstown. I had basketball with Eddie today.”

“And that's all you've been up to?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at her. Her eyes are glinting, her smile slyly fox-like. She's his best friend in this place and a walking fucking nightmare.

"He's got a girlfriend," he says for what feels like the hundredth time this week.

Lucy narrows her eyes and rips another bite from her sandwich.

"And? You had a girlfriend once."

Tommy concedes by nodding and swiping another fry from her plate.

"I did," he hums, letting his eyes go all glassy and wiping a fake tear from under his eye. "And she had a seven inch dick. I miss that girl."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Besides the fucking point. So Diaz has a girlfriend so you think he's straight? This is bisexual erasure, Thomas."

Tommy doesn't think anything about Eddie, actually. It's not his place. Not when there's a girl with a pretty smile and nothing to say watching him leave night after night. Not when there's the faintest tang of beer still lingering at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of stubble against his lip, any thoughts at all struggling to surface from the sheer, thrilling oh of hearing your attention.

"If I could erase you, Donato, I would have done it years ago."

Lucy sticks her tongue out, crumbs and all, and he throws the half chewed fry in her smirking face.

"Buckley's single," she offers, chucking it straight back. "And kinda easy. In a cute way."

Tommy scoffs, but he must pause for a half breath too long first because Lucy's eyes go wider than he thinks he's ever seen them, the twenty fluttering from her fingers as she slams her hands down on the table between them.

“Buckley?! Christ.” She sits back, blowing her fringe off her forehead with an exaggerated huff. “Well damn. I'm not surprised, I guess.”

Tommy takes a deep breath. “I think – I think he was. So don't –.” Tell. God, he really thought those days were behind him.

“Who the fuck do you take me for?” Lucy asks, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Tommy offers her a sarcastically sympathetic head tilt. “Gee, I don't know. Someone who's been betting on whether I'd fuck his taken best friend?”

She rolls her eyes extravagantly. “Please. That's different. Diaz always looked at me like I'd crapped in his bed. Buck's sweet.”

Tommy reaches out and pockets the twenty. “If you say so. I'll take this as an apology shall I?”

Lucy's nose crinkles up in disgust. “Put it towards your medical bills when Diaz finds out you've touched his man, that's all I'm saying.”

Tommy narrowly avoids sticking his tongue out at her. “Believe it or not, we're actual grown adults. Eddie's not going to have a problem with it.”

Lucy laughs, and it must send bits of half masticated sandwich the wrong way because she launches into a coughing fit so violent Tommy sees a couple of the paramedics' heads pop up from their hiding places like so many meerkats with medical fetishes.

“Jesus Christ,” she moans once she's caught her breath. “Rather you than me.”

Tommy quite agrees, honestly, because he's had exactly thirty four seconds of Evan Buckley’s mouth and he's already not particularly inclined to share, but he waits for her to knock back a couple of gulps of Powerade because he's a good friend.

He thinks he's a good friend.

He wants to be.

“You think – you think he will have a problem with it?”

Lucy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and sighs.

“I think the 118 is – a different kind of place to what maybe we're used to, you know? When I first started there I thought it would be great, and it was, but I never – I never really got it. The family history.” She shakes her head. “Diaz wasn't even there then. And yet he was everywhere. ” She fixes Tommy with the same sharp, searching look he's used to seeing beside him in the air. “I don't think it's going to be good for you.”

I don't think Buck's going to be good for you, she doesn't say, but Tommy's been closeted longer than he's been out. He's learned to read between the lines. To know when to lean in. When to back away. When it's his lips or his mouth or his teeth or his fists he needs to be quick with.

Evan's aren't the first pair of pretty blue eyes he's ever seen go shocked and wet and desperate. And maybe Evan's ribcage is going to be far from the last he's felt still and shudder and expand under his hand. Maybe he's setting himself up for the inevitable fall of being first.

Maybe, in the most important ways, in the ways that matter, he isn't first at all.

But it's not his place to ask. And if he doesn't ask – well. He can't see that Eddie's ever going to tell.

And sometimes, hey. It's better to seek forgiveness than permission. Fake mouth static or no.

He pulls the twenty back from his pocket, and adds another on top. Just because he can. Because he wants.

Because he's a minute late, but damn. What a minute.

“Wanna bet?”

#911 spoilers #bucktommy #buddie #implied #911 abc #clare vs writers block

[hyperpsychomaniac]

You Can Do Better

Hilda fanfiction

Summary: After Erik lets slip he started the war with the Trolls on purpose, Gerda forces him to make things up by doing all the dirty jobs around Safety Patrol. But Erik won't take it lying down.

***

The alarm blared.

Face down on his pillow, Erik groaned. “Whhhhyy...” His arm flopped out like a limp noodle, fumbling on his bedside table until he knocked the offending object to the bedroom floor.

The clock continued to chirp at him.

“Why, I don't even have a job. Why did I-”

Though hazy, last night’s events came flooding back. Erik's chest tightened. He rolled up on one shoulder, straining to see the faintly glowing numerals. Nine am.

“Crap.” Erik scrambled up, throwing himself out of bed. His bedsheets were still tangled about him, and he tumbled out and rolled straight into the wall. He could not be late - not for this. Being late would only make things worse. Not that he could make it any worse than he had last night. What the hell had possessed him to spill his guts like that?

Erik flung open his cupboard. The rails were almost bare, mostly empty hangers, a couple of Hawaiian shirts, and a pair of shorts. At least they were one of his newer, nice pairs. The rest of his clothes were strewn across his room and in the laundry. He should have done the washing before now - but what was the point until he ran out of clothes? Clearly, in retrospect, because then he’d have some choice.

Erik tugged them on and strode through his house, searching for his keys. He found them on the coffee table, amidst a clutter of half full glasses and plates. The mess barely registered. At first, the slowly deteriorating state of his home had stressed him out, though it had never been quite enough to override the dwindling motivation to keep it tidy, as he liked.

In the hall, Erik shrugged on a jacket. The medals and achievements filling most of one wall caught his eye. His medal, dead centre, and scattered between everything, embedded in the wall, were a half dozen darts. Okay. He did not remember doing that. One was embedded in a photo of himself, right in the eye.

He should take that out.

He didn't.

Twenty minutes later, Erik stood outside Safety Patrol HQ. He had not been here since he retired. His apprehension warred with the aching familiarity. How often had he walked through those doors? Back then, he had not paused, but come striding in, flinging the doors back so hard he’d made the glass rattle. Today, he creaked them open tentatively, and slunk into the reception area.

“Erik! The Captain said you were coming to see her today. It's so nice to see your face again - it feels like forever.” Behind the desk, Delores smiled up at him over her wire-rimmed glasses.

Erik returned the faint smile, hoping she didn’t spot the tremble in his jaw. “Ah... yeah... I... so can I... shall I just go to her office?“

“You know the way, hun. Don't forget to sign yourself into the visitors’ book.”

“Oh, right.” Because he no longer worked here. The thought brought a wash of regret and a lump to his throat. Erik made himself busy snatching up the pen and scrawling in his details.

He ran into no one on the way to Gerda's office - thank gods. But if she'd told Delores, they'd all know he'd been about by lunchtime. Maybe Gerda had told them all already. Maybe she’d already told them everything.

He arrived at his office abruptly. No. Gerda’s office. She'd left the door open. Could he not have one moment to steel himself? She was focused on paperwork when he stepped into the doorway and he stood there awkwardly, throat tightening even more than it was already. Finally, he raised his hand to give the open door a gentle rap.

Before he did, Gerda spoke. “You’re late.”

”I... sorry.“ The apology came out with a squeak. Erik cleared this throat. ”Gerda, listen, about what I said last night...“

Gerda met his gaze. ”Maybe you should shut the door.“

Erik closed it behind him and sat on the chair opposite her, though she didn't bother offering it to him. Gerda tidied the stack of paperwork she'd been working on, tapping the edges until the pages were even, and put them in her out tray.

She had less in here than he had when he'd been in the office, though he had never kept it untidy. It was just that little more organised. Some of his photos were still up on the wall, though there was one recently bare space. Erik drew in a quick breath, the sound loud in the enclosed space. The photo missing was the one with the two of them when they'd got their promotions, both grinning like delirious idiots.

”What about last night?“ Gerda said tersely, bringing his attention snapping back round.

”I... well... I um... you... you told me to come here and I... you told me to come in so I figured you should...“

”I'm interested in what you were about to say. About last night. What you might have to say about it when you are less... inebriated.“

”I... I just wanted to...“ What? The night was blurry, but perhaps he knew. He’d had to tell someone, to have someone understand. Surely Gerda would? But she hadn’t, and now he had to face the consequences. But perhaps that had been the point. Not to tell someone he now understood his hubris, his errors, but to have someone hold him accountable. He’d gotten off light. Far too light. There should have been more consequences. He deserved far worse than he’d got. Now though? Perhaps Gerda was right about sobriety changing things. ”I... um... I said... I barely remember what I said...”

Gerda leaned forward a little. ”Let me jog your memory. You told me that night at the wall was not a mistake. It was not a case that you let things get out of hand, that you got caught up in your own stories to the point of believing them. ” Her voice took on an edge, her words enunciated a little more carefully. Like she was barely containing herself. “You told me you riled the Trolls on purpose. You told me that your plan was to start a fight with them, all so you could step in and play the hero.”

“I… well, I remember a lot more rambling. So that’s not exactly…”

“It’s the bottom line, Erik. So tell me, now you’re clear headed enough to think about what you're saying, is that assessment accurate? Or would you like to talk your way out of this? That is what you’re good at.”

Erik’s chest heaved, heart thudding. Consequences. That was what he’d feared. Gerda was glaring at him, and she might have been contained, but she was livid. As she should be. She would not let this go. And yet she was giving him the chance to back out. Erik’s jaw worked, yet no words came. Even as he desperately wanted to gasp at that flimsy lifeline she’d offered him, he could not. He didn’t deserve it.

Erik wrapped his arms about himself, stilling the shake that had come into his hands. His gaze dropped to his lap, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s accurate.”

The silence stretched. Gerda’s chair screeched back, the sound making Erik jump.

“Do you have any idea how many people could have died, Erik? I thought I could forgive you if it was all an accident, but…” Gerda paced behind the desk, her boots squeaking on the tiles as she spun at each end of the small space. “Not only your officers, but civilians, the people you swore an oath to protect. You got up on stage, and dripped charisma, but it wasn’t even exaggeration, it was straight up lies. You used them. You used us; you used me. Do you realise what you put at risk for nothing but your own glory? It wasn’t even to stop a war, it was - gods, I don’t even understand why! These officers would have done anything for you, but you treated us all like crap. You know how nice it is to walk around here and not have everyone scared you’re going to yell at them for not tying a bell properly, while all along you were carrying on with this, this…”

Gerda’s fist thumped down on the desk. “Look at me, Erik! You misused public resources, at best. You deserve to be in jail. Not given a bloody medal!”

Erik obeyed. Her gaze trapped his and wouldn’t let go. More than what she’d said, he read it in her steely look. She was serious. He had always been able to talk or bully her around, but he no longer held the power here. She had the position, and he’d handed her the truth. And gods, she’d be right to tear apart every falsehood he’d built for himself. But that was all he had. She would destroy all he had left.

Erik’s lip trembled, and it was only as his vision blurred that he could look away. “Please… Gerda, don’t make me give it back. Not publicly. I can’t…” His voice broke, and he felt a tear slip free.

Gerda sat back down. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, a sharp contrast to the moment before. “That’s not what I’m going to do. I would like to give you community service - but I think even that would raise too many questions.”

“Qu…questions?”

“For Safety Patrol,” she said. “Safety Patrol is a mess right now. We need to move on. From you. I am flat out trying to convince the mayor’s office we need to focus on liaising with the creatures about us - hell, at least the elves will help with the paperwork. And I’m still dealing with budget overruns from everything you did last year.

“Safety Patrol does not need attention diverted to you, again, which is all that would accomplish. Outing you would only result in a public spectacle, and Safety Patrol would suffer for it.”

Her words sunk in, and Erik found he could move. He sniffed and hastily wiped at his eyes. “You’re not… going to do anything?”

“I didn’t say that. On top of everything, the cleaner quit last week. I had also considered getting an intern to cover odd jobs, but it never seemed fair to me to make someone run around after everyone and not even pay them. Until now.”

Erik blinked at her and slowly raised a hand to tap to his chest. “Wait, me? You’re punishing me by giving me a job?”

“I’m giving you two ‘jobs’. Though I use the term loosely, because I won’t be paying you. I can’t make you serve the community without people asking questions. But I can certainly make you serve Safety Patrol. That might at least free us up a little, so, in a way-“

It was still rattling around in his head. Not what she wanted from him, she’d spelled it out pretty clearly, but how this connected to what he’d done. “You want me to clean up after everyone?”

“Part of being a leader, Erik, is serving the people under you. Not using them. You failed at that, so now you can serve them from the bottom of the heap. Maybe that will help make up for some of this - at least to Safety Patrol. It will accomplish one thing, at the very least. Every time I see you, I’ll know you’re getting some small shred of what you deserve.

“The janitor’s closet is down the hall. So, go, right now, and pick up a mop and whatever else you need. You can start in the office bathrooms.” She tugged the next bit of paper from her stack aggressively, then slapped it down onto the desk.

“Wait now? But what do I…”

Gerda didn’t look up. “Figure it out. Now, get out of my office.”

#somehow I've ended up writing about this idiot again #aka Gerda makes Erik clean toilets #also gives him a bloody good serve #hilda #hilda netflix #hilda the series #erik ahlberg #gerda gustav #hilda the show #fanfic #fanfiction #hilda fanfic #hilda fanfiction #you can do better fanfic

[literallyjustanerd]

WIP Wednesday! Herahsoka angst part 2 :)

Chapter 2 of my Herahsoka fic Disparate Hearts I can't stop thinking about them. That is all. Comments and critiques are very, very much appreciated! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Hera doesn’t come empty-handed. She never does. Twi’lek culture, she says. It’s bad form for a visitor to come without something to offer the host. After so long, Ahsoka has come to understand what each of Hera’s usual offerings means. Whether it’s intentional on Hera’s part or not, she can’t know, but the code is still plain as day. Spare parts for Ahsoka’s tinkering means she wants some silent company while they both work. Hot tea or caf meant she’d been thinking about Kanan too much.

She arrives today with a bottle of Corellian whiskey, and a carton of dried meiloorun swiped from the quartermasters. The fruit means she wants to talk. The whiskey means someone else is looking after Jacen tonight.  “Got time?” she says. We should stop this. We have to stop this. “You know I do.”

While Ahsoka remains frozen in place at the doorway, Hera has let herself in, patting Ahsoka blithely on the cheek as she passes. She makes straight for the pantry, and when she sets to rummaging through the shelves, Ahsoka feels it like she’s reaching through her ribcage to dig through her insides.

“You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” she proclaims, her head reappearing from the cupboard to set a chipped plate triumphantly on the bench. “This new squad we’ve picked up from the outer rim, the ones who used to be pirates? You’d think that would make them good at following orders, but no, stars forbid they listen to a word of the briefing I’m trying to give.” 

It’s a question Ahsoka finds herself faced with often; how it is that Hera always seems so far above every issue she faces. Even when she complains, it feels like her grousing is just for show, just to entertain. It's as fascinating as it is impressive to watch, how she soldiers on through life, eyes up, chin high. A river, flowing steadfast and unbothered. Never unsure, never faltering. Never burning up inside, like Ahsoka is every time they’re together. It’s enough to inspire everyone around her. It’s why she thrives in the role of general.

It’s also an act.

“Sounds exhausting,” Ahsoka says, as she’s offered one of her own mugs. Hera makes an offhand comment about it being ‘all in a day’s work’ as she pours a liberal share. Ahsoka stares down at the honey-gold drink, her reflection coming into view as it settles. You know this won’t end any differently than last time. She tips the cup up, grateful that the burn is strong enough to singe away her thoughts for a moment. Hera is still talking.

It’s a convincing act, granted. An act Ahsoka would be completely fooled by, had she not long ago picked up on the simple contradiction: the more impenetrable Hera Syndulla seems, the closer the veneer is to breaking. The smoother the surface, the more violent the riptide beneath. Hera grabs the drink, the fruit, and the last hunk of bread from Ahsoka’s stores, and marches for the makeshift daybed by the port window. The only pause in her story comes when she raises the bottle to take a long swig. Ahsoka is reminded of something Anakin once told her, while attempting to teach her to repair a malfunctioning astromech. “Seeing how the parts connect isn’t the same as knowing why.”

It hurts, seeing how at home Hera is on Ahsoka’s ship. She drops herself onto the cushioned ledge, draped lazily across it. The plate of food is set beside her, on the upturned waste bin Ahsoka has been using as a side table. There is a perfectly functional dining area at the centre of the ship, yet Ahsoka has taken to spending most of her free time here by the viewport. A feeble attempt to get as close as possible to whatever dregs of natural light Hoth has to offer. The pillows and throw blanket are old, threadbare, salvaged from Ahsoka’s travels. A sad, halfhearted attempt to bring warmth to the ship.

Somehow, though, when Hera reclines across them, smiling in that gentle, breezy way she does, she makes the space seem cosy instead of pitiful. By now, Hera has spent more time aboard this ship than anyone else Ahsoka knows. Some days, Hera seems more at ease here than her. The retrofitted hunk of durasteel had never felt more comfortable than practical, no matter how many cushions she added, how many waste bins she tipped up.

But with Hera there? When she invites herself over, whether alone, with Jacen, or dragging along whatever Spectres she can round up, she brings something with her, a shift in the light. A change in the air that makes it easier to breathe. With her on board, Ahsoka can almost start to see the ship as home.  Hera never comes empty-handed.

“Enough about that,” Hera suddenly declares. “You’ve been back for days and you still haven’t told me anything. How did it all go? You were gone longer than you said you’d be.” “Yeah. Got… caught up,” Ahsoka says, swirling the remaining whiskey in her mug. Hera’s gaze on her is heavy, as Ahsoka forgoes the seat beside her and sinks down the wall to sit cross-legged on the floor instead. It gives her a moment to choose her next words carefully. “Had to lay low a couple days. Just to be careful.”

“You weren’t in trouble, were you?” The question comes quick, Hera’s tone pressing. Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and reaches for a piece of dried meiloorun to buy herself more time. There isn’t much more she can say. Truthfully, there isn’t much more she wants to say about the four days she’d spent holed up in a Hidden Path safe house, waiting out an Imperial inspection before coming back to Hoth. Certainly no trouble, though. Not unless you counted mind-numbing boredom as a major concern. “No. Nothing like that. Just didn’t want to take unnecessary risks.”

Maybe if the situation had been different, Ahsoka wouldn’t have been quite so careful. But with such precious cargo, she couldn’t take chances. She had been working with the Hidden Path for a while now, but this particular run had been… personal. 

Hedala Fardi’s family had hidden Ahsoka for a full solar cycle, not long after the war, afforded her a place to stay and a blissful lack of questions. She remembers the family fondly, the roving horde of boisterous children, the long list of names she could never recall. Except for Hedala. Little Hedala, whose eyes held a wisdom far beyond her tender age. Hedala, who moved slow and spoke softly, sometimes to voices no-one else could hear. Hedala, who had warned Ahsoka of a ‘storm’ coming, a storm she felt deep in her bones, mere days before the Inquisitors had descended on her. After all the Fardis had done, Ahsoka owed it to the them to ensure their daughter had a safe place to grow into her gifts.

Wringing the mug in her grip, Ahsoka tries hard to keep her jaw shut, to keep the story from spilling out. She has said enough as it is. Yet, looking up at Hera, the stark angles of her face framed perfectly in the blue-white light outside, she wants nothing more than to tell her everything. How hard it had been to keep little Hedala happy while holding her breath to listen for passing troopers. The dread she had felt, convinced in every moment that she was about to feel the dark, swallowing pit of an Inquisitor at the edge of her perception in the Force. How close she had come to regretting the trip altogether when they finally made it to Tanalorr, where Hedala had realised, with no more than a trembling lip, that she would not see her parents or sisters again.

A sharp breath from Hera pulls her from the tempest in her mind. Ahsoka redresses her composure, waiting for whatever question she will next have to navigate. Preparing to fight both Hera and herself to keep from saying anything more. To her surprise, Hera's brow is uncreased, her shoulders lax.  “Well, good,” she says with a single nod. “I’m glad you made it back okay.” 

No pushback. No digging. Not even a raised brow at Ahsoka's avoidance.  Instead of the breath of relief she should rightly be heaving, Ahsoka feels only a dull pang of indignance. Rather than explore that any further, she instead empties her cup to the last drop.

#wip wednesday #drabble #herahsoka #herahsoka fic #hera x ahsoka #hera syndulla #ahsoka tano

[brainlessrot]

hi !! can i req a scenario of jamil comforting his boyfriend after he had a bad day? thank you ^_^

sure ^^

Contents;; masc!MC, romantical scenario, pure fluff, kinda hurt/comfort?

Characters ;; Jamil Viper

Jamil ;;

Days on NRC were long and hard, you were always running around, helping everyone on top of your already stressing classes and cram sessions, since you came here without knowing much stuff about either culture or common knowledge.

And since, the most charitable Headmage Dire Crowley did everything to make you have even more work than usual, it was safe to say you were exhausted.

The moment you entered Ramshackle dorm you went straight towards the first sofa on sight, throwing your jacket and backpack somewhere where they would surely catch dust, but you did not care at all.

You lay on top of the sofa, it was not the cleanest, a hand-me-down from Heartslabyul, but it was much better than the old and broken ones Ramshackle had prior.

You hid your face on one of the new cushions, surprisingly soft and fluffy, courtesy of Kalim, your boyfriend Jamil being the one who put the idea on his mind on the first place.

You didn’t even flinch the moment you heard the door open, it’s old hinges creaking, you mentally noted that you had to oil them so the annoying sound would stop.

The sofa was pushed down with a newfound weight, but the moment you tried to turn around to look at the intruder a pair of gentle hands guided you to stay down.

Your eyes met with the familiar grey hue of your partner’s, he smiled fondly before he bent forwards to meet you, kissing you softly on your temple.

“Stay down, I’ll take care of you,” His eyes roamed the room for a second, before laying upon your discarded jacket and backpack. “You deserve it.”

He accommodated the cushion under your head so you were resting on a more comfortable position before he left his seat and walked around. He moved a couple of things; a lamp, a chair, and a coat hanger, on which he hanged both your jacket and backpack, gently dusting the cat hairs and dirt that clung onto them.

“Wait right there, don’t move.” As he walked past you, he put a soft blanket that the Seven know where he got it on top of you, patting your cheek before parting. “I’ll cook something quick, I won’t be away from you for long, promise.”

You watched his frame go into the kitchen, luckily, the old door that separated the dorm’s kitchen and the lounge had rotten away while Ramshackle was unused, so you had to get rid of it, and now the only thing standing was the door frame on itself, allowing you full view of Jamil, chopping something with his back to you. The smell of tomato, pepper and onions infiltrated the room, making your stomach grumble.

Not long after, just as he had promised you, he came back with two servings of shakshuka, the warm food on his hands smelled so, so good.

But, before you could make any move to grab at it, he put the plates on the low coffee table that laid in front of the sofa you were laying on, putting his hand up at you as a sign for you to stay seated.

As he sat down next to you, he pulled the table closer, before telling you to sit up.

He, however, did not allow you to hold anything.

“Say aah.” He held one of the servings of shakshuka on one of his hands, the other holding a spoon. “Eat.”

He ignored your protests saying that you could do it yourself, saying that he wanted to take care of you for the day, and not long after he said that you gave up. Well, you really wanted to be pampered today.

Spoonfull after spoonfull, he only ate after you had been well fed. And once both servings had been finished, he pushed you down on your back once again, grabbing both of the empty plates and quickly left to leave them on the sink, the dishes could be done later.

He paused in front of the sofa, and after some thought, he laid down next to you, it was a bit cramped, since the sofa was not meant for two, but the way he put his arms around your frame, his familiar warmth seeping into you, was worth enough to be stiff for a while.

#scarabia x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #disney twst #twst #scarabia #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #phew this was longer than i thought #but im crying i want something like these two have

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 3466 (chapter 16)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY

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16. Breaking rules is fun (and dangerous)

The drive to Matt's apartment is silent, but he knows you want to say something, as your heart is beating fast. Or maybe you still haven't recovered from the run of your life. Truth to be told, you lived off the thrill, blood pumping through your veins has become pure adrenaline, because you don't remember yourself driving so recklessly.

Yet you feel like words failed you now like never before, but the storm is brewing inside of you, and words gonna flood Matt's apartment in no time. But before all hell breaks loose, Matt interrupts the heavy silence. "Thank you."

Simple words, used every day so much that they lost their true meaning, but now you feel like Matt pulled those straight from the depths of his heart.

"I just hope this helps you win the case," you throw so simply, as if the whole thing was purely work-related.

He knows... He feels, that it's way more than that, way more than just a way to keep him and Foggy in business, and way more than just proving that Melissa is guilty. You had nothing to do with his case, to his knowledge, and he felt eternal gratitude for this risk you've taken. And what's all of this for if not justice?

You stop the car and turn the ignition off, taking a deep breath, "Well, this is you."

"Yeah..." He pauses, contemplating his next words. "Wanna come? Tea? Beer?" Matt hears his pulse pick up and suddenly feels like a high-schooler again, asking a girl to dance with him, and immediately begins to feel disappointment rising, like the said high-schooler, when the girl refuses to go with him. He's nervous, feels his palms sweating and grabs the door handle for support, secretly plotting his looser's escape plan. 

"Tea, I'm driving." Your lips twitch into a small smile. "Can't disobey the law when I'm supposed to represent it." You both chuckle at the same time, and you get out, helping Matt to get upstairs, silently cursing the many stairs to his flat but enjoying the closeness, especially when his neighbour walks downstairs, and you get squeezed next to Matt, in order to let her pass. The way his hands snaked on your waist, took your breath away for a mere moment, but the little voice in your head brought you back into reality - a reality where you couldn't let your feelings control you.

Matt fumbled with the keys for a second, but that was more than enough time for you to snatch them from him and unlock his door.

"Ah, that's how you're treating blind people?" 

"Yes, you, Murdock, especially." You say and wait for him to come inside, but he doesn't move. "Are you seriously being a gentleman right now?" You laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole evening.

"Yes, now get your ass inside."

"What, afraid that your neighbour might see you bringing a girl into your flat, when she probably thinks that you're a good, religious guy, who has never, ever kissed a girl before marriage?" You tease, purposely stalling in the corridor until, fed up, Matt gently pushes in you into his apartment, and locks the door after himself. "Oh, exciting," you murmur, and boldly walk further, failing to notice Matt's grin.

You plop on one of the armchairs and look around, Matt gets behind the counter and starts making tea. "Nice apartment you got there, Murdock."

"Well, too bad I can't see how exactly nice it is." He shoots one of the many blind jokes from his arsenal.

"Ha-ha, you know, you're already running out of the jokes." You stand up again and walk around, particularly interested in the view outside the window. 

"What jokes?"

"Your jokes. Cheesy, corny, blind jokes." You reach the counter and sit on it, purposely getting on Matt's nerves, not even justifying your own childish behavior.

"My jokes are corny? I didn't even hear you say one at all in the time of our friendship." He puts on a kettle and leans on the counter opposite of you, crossing his arms, and just now you noticed that he dropped his jacket, and now stood just in his white-collar shirt.

"Friendship? Oh, that's a bold statement, Murdock. I would probably call it a partnership. Just don't get used to it." 

"Well, in this case, it was a very beneficial partnership then, y/l/n." He says, rolling his sleeves up, and probably for the first time you really notice him as a man, muscular and fit, maybe even too much for a lawyer, but only God knows what he does when he needs to let out the steam. After all, he said he was hitting the gym.

"I'm sure Foggy was becoming suspicious of where his dear friend was spending his evening."

"Don't worry about it, Foggy knows I'm a grown boy."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. And what about your grand partners in the firm? I thought you had a case to get ready for." The kettle starts boiling, and Matt swiftly pours the tea in the cups, forgetting that he was initially going to ask for your help. He's blind after all, and this evening managed to raise enough suspicious for you, he was absolutely sure about that, although you kept silent, and this was making him even more nervous.

"Eh, if I were busy, who you would've called to break into Melissa's house?" You smile to yourself, disregarding the fact that you haven't told them your position in company, and curiously watch Matt put the kettle in its previous spot and come next to the counter, invading your personal space a little.

"True, what would I do without my partner in crime?" He leans on the counter, in an awkward way, his elbow almost touches your thigh.

"Probably lose the case." You count on your fingers, "get totally destroyed by Benowitz, get thrown out of business probably once and for all, and then Benowitz would walk around the office, thinking that he's a fucking God." You roll your eyes, and look at your hand, "so, four bad things at the same time." 

Matt hums in thought. The sound is throaty, and somehow turns your insides upside down. "I still have to use that picture-"

"Smartly." You both finish his sentence at the same time. Matt finally dares to risk it all - he cautiously puts his palm on your thigh and affectionately squeezes a little. "Thank you, y/n, truly. I don't think I would've got anyone else to be this stupid to risk their careers for that."

"Is that a compliment, Murdock?" You laugh, eyes running from his gorgeous smile to his palm, still placed on your leg. You look closely and notice that his knuckles are bruised again, this time, without thinking, you put your hand on his, and gently rub his knuckle. "Matt, what are you truly getting yourself into?"

His eyebrows twitch and in the heat of the moment, he pulls his hand away, "Nothing, what do you mean?"

"Murdock, I'm not blind-" you stop and mentally slap yourself for the choice of the words but continue nonetheless, "I keep seeing you bruised and just walking around, hiding your blue eyes under your shades, but I'm not stupid, no man can walk into walls all the time, especially the one who's been living like that for most of his life, and no gym 'buddy' is hitting you on purpose."

He begins walking towards the window, but you're not letting him out of the argument, "Matt-"

"It's none of your business, it's mine, and I think you should drop it." He turns his back on you, pretending that his invisible wall of silence can save him.

"You know damn well that I can't." You put your hand on his shoulder, and he tenses immediately.

"You should learn to back away in time-"

"Too bad they didn't teach that in law school, I'm sure you know that it's impossible for people like us to do so." He doesn't push you away, instead, he finally turns to look at you. Physically, he can't do it, but his senses allow him to see your outline, and a flood of feelings falls upon him.

"People like us? We're not the same, y/n, you just don't understand-"

"How would I understand when you're not telling me shit?" You whisper, feeling like you were going to cry any moment. Arguments in the courtroom were your strength, but the ones behind the closed door brought the most vulnerable version of you.

"I can't, I really can't" he says, and before you can open your mouth for another argument, he grabs your head and kisses you.

Stunned, surprised, flabbergasted, shocked - all those words perfectly described how you felt about the situation you were currently in. His lips, so soft for a man, gently pressed against yours, he tastes your lip gloss, feels you sighing into his lips and uses the moment to test the waters and gently pushes the tip of his tongue against yours. The feeling makes you shiver, and lost in the kiss, you grab his face as well, slowly poking your tongue into his mouth. Matt gets even bolder, and you feel like your legs float above the ground, but in reality, you stand glued to the place, relishing the moment, until Matt pulls away, breathing rather heavily.

"I'm... So sorry..." He whispers against your lips, his face still close to yours.

"I-" You open your eyes, and suddenly it hits you just how wrong everything is, and you gently push him away, already turning towards the exit, "I have to go, sorry, Murdock, thanks for the tea." You stop for a second and look at the cup of the tea, sitting on the counter, and shaking your head, quickly leave his place, perhaps beating the fastest getting down the stairs record.

Matt sighs and punches the armchair, feeling the fury rising inside of him, for no one other than himself.

*** 

You couldn't wrap your mind on what the fuck happened at Matt's. When did you let your guard down? When did he? You surf through the rather empty road to your house, surprised that you didn't hit anyone yet.

You couldn't remember how did you park your car, or climbed upstairs, or unlocked the door of your flat... Or how did you find yourself lying in your bed, already in pajamas, hiding from your thoughts under the covers. Everything was good, perfect even, until today. You couldn't let yourself get lost in the love game again, not after the last time. You just couldn't hurt yourself, and Matt for that matter, again. Maybe it wasn't anything close to love, maybe it was suppressed anger that you were holding for each other after every clash in the courtroom, that burst out in a very strange form. Maybe.

You couldn't get that image out of your head, as much as you tried to forget, the way Matt held your head, so firmly in his big, bruised hands, but yet so tenderly, as if you were a fragile thing. The way his lips were glued to yours, as if he waited to kiss you since forever, as if that was his only purpose in life, the only thing he had to do before dying. You snuggled under the blanket even more, hiding from the world, but unfortunately, it didn't disappear. Your stomach, hours later after the accident, still felt terribly light and full of what the poets usually called butterflies.

You weren't alone in this pit of overthinking. Matt found himself sitting in the darkest corner of the church, a place where he was always welcomed, a place that sheltered him from the world when he didn't realize he needed that shelter.

Was he too bold? Did he overstep the line? Matt laughs under his breath. Of course, he did. It was stupid to let feelings get the best of him, but he didn't have anyone to care about him the way you did. Perhaps since Elektra. But she was pushed away and left far in the past, he was a changed man, he wanted a fresh start, and here you came. All confident in the court, but so vulnerable in real life, so fragile, so soft... Matt lowered his head and slowly tried to shake the thoughts of you out, but even God himself, hiding in the walls of this sacred place, knew that it wasn't possible. Matt couldn't forget how you succumbed to his touch, how willingly you kissed him back, how your tongues met in the middle, and how gentle your touch was on his cheek.

He thought that God has already accepted the fact that Matt came here mostly not to look for forgiveness, but to think of you. The whole building was soaked with irony that Matt Murdock came to the church to think of the unholiest thoughts in the world. And he wanted to beat himself up for that. Maybe he will. He was contemplating of finding another criminal right now, and just let him punch Matt as hard as he could. Just so he could not think of you, at least for a moment.

Father saw him. He didn't see his face, but he recognized the crunched figure in the late hours, and knew that only Matt came here at this time. Father didn't say a word, he didn't even think of going near Matt. After years of keeping him under his wing, he knew Matt perhaps even better than Matt knew himself. And he knew that right now, he wished to not be disturbed.

Matt felt tired, exhausted, but Hell's Kitchen never sleeps, and neither does the Devil.

When one went on to bring justice and peace to the dark streets of Hell's Kitchen, the city he called his home, the other fell into a restless sleep. You kept tossing and turning, getting hot and cold in the span of minutes, cursing the world in your sleep, and murmuring something incoherent. While your dreams were full of shameful thoughts, that during the day would've made you blush, Matt was beating the crap out of a mugger, feeling satisfaction with every punch, every sound of his fist connecting with the man's face. The man drops to his knees, finally losing to the Devil, and Matt breathes heavily, suddenly feeling empty again. He turns and quickly leaves the alley, already hearing the sirens of the police, leaving the easy catch for the cops. On the roof of his apartment, he sits on the edge, listening for any troubled screams, but secretly hoping to hear a sign of you.

Life was harsh, and it certainly didn't like to award either of you, especially not now, with Matt's big case coming up.

*** 

Foggy was on the cloud nine after receiving the photo of the document. This was their breakthrough, their chance of winning and proving that Melissa was the one who hired the sniper for her husband, using his own money. They had yet to prove that the company written on the paper did not exist, but that was the easiest part of the whole thing.

Of course, Melissa chose the best law firm in the city, and one of the best lawyers, although Matt himself thought that Hogarth was way better and more experienced than Benowitz. Secretly, Matt put you in the first place, he thought you were the best in town, mainly because you were not corrupted by fame and money, but he also liked facing you in the courtroom. Was this the moment when he felt something other than competition for you? He was not sure. He should be preparing for the case, but his thoughts kept coming back to you, no matter how hard he tried to delete you from his memory after last night's failure.

"Dude, are you even listening?" Foggy says louder, feeling like he was ignored by Matt since he opened his mouth.

"Yeah, what?"

"Where'd you go? I just listed the whole argument for you. I also said that it's perfect that you managed to get a picture of those payments, we have that bitch Melissa right now!" Foggy says, cheering with his fist in the air.

"Yeah, great." But there was something else bothering him.

"How did you convince y/n to do it? You always fight like two cats in a bag." Foggy takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee and grimaces, raising his eyebrows at Matt.

"She owed me a favour, that's it." Matt shrugs, hoping that Foggy drops the subject, but he knows Foggy too well to be this optimistic.

"A favour? Now I'm even more interested to know what kind of favour she owed that she agreed to break into someone's house."

"Break into?"

"Matt, I'm not stupid, I know that she didn't pull a thing like this from the archive, because no person in his right mind would put this in the archive." Foggy falls silent, hinting that he's waiting for Matt's response, but Matt pretends to be interested in his argument again, purposely sipping his coffee.

Foggy sighs loudly and repeats his previous statement, and this time, Matt puts his whole focus, pushing the thoughts of your skin on his into the farthest corner of his mind.

Meanwhile, you, reach your office late for the first time in your career, cursing yourself and the enormous traffic you got yourself into. You pull out your keys and try to unlock the door a couple of times, before simply pushing the handle. They open, and you see no one other than Benowitz himself sitting in your chair, rather comfortably, his head resting on his folded hands. A wave of worry and fear washes over you, but you collect yourself as quickly as possible, trying to blink as fast as possible, so that he doesn't see your wide eyes.

"Mr Benowitz, what a surprise! I'm sorry I'm late, the traffic was a tragedy." You cautiously walk toward your wardrobe, taking off your coat and putting your purse in there as well.

"Don't apologize, I heard about it on the news, someone drove into a fire hydrant, apparently. That's not why I'm here." He cracks a smile, but it's nowhere near a pleasant one.

You sit in the chair in front of him, nervously turning the ring on your middle finger in your lap, waiting for him to speak again.

"You remember my case against Murdock, right?" He asks, leaning back on the chair, and it creaks loudly.

"Our case?" You say humbly.

"Yeah, so, my client was attacked last night." He stresses the fact that it is his case again.

"What? Is she okay?" You put on a mask of surprise, hoping to fool him.

"Yes, yes, Mrs Dale is well, just shocked. I think it was a failed attempt to collect evidence for sabotage. I have a feeling that Murdock's client had something to do with the quite failed attempt to attack my client. The poor woman is already in mourning, and if the accusations from Mr Dale's bastard daughter weren't enough, some idiots break into her house and brutally attack her." He huffs and squirms in your chair again.

"That's terrible." You furrow your eyebrows, indicating that you can't possibly believe all the bad things that happened to Mrs Dale.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I came to you."

You discreetly take a deep breath.

"I want you to be my partner tomorrow in court. Murdock always brings his puppy Nelson, and I need you to be able to step in if anything happens not our way. I'm sure the jury will believe such a beautiful woman more than me, but don't worry, I-, sorry, we" he shakes his head and quickly fixes himself, "we already have our victory in the pocket."

"Oh?"

"I know it comes as a surprise to you, but I would really appreciate you being there for me... For poor Melissa Dale. It will benefit your career record, maybe even more than you think." Benowitz stands up, walking next to you and leans, his breath hitting your face, "Of course, if you choose to bail, then perhaps you will follow the footsteps of Mr Murdock. Out of the law world." He stands straight again, fixing his jacket, "Have a good day, Miss Y/l/n, I'll send you all my documents, and please, don't ever be late again." Benowitz quickly walks out, leaving your office, and you, still sitting there in shock.

You wanted to call Matt, to tell him everything, but something kept you from doing so. Was it the last night's kiss or loyalty for your job? Perhaps both. You knew that Matt will win, the evidence was strong enough to put Melissa in jail, and stain your career record at the same time. That fucker Benowitz didn't want to go down alone, of course, he had to bring you as well. Probably this will be the opportunity to leave this firm and find a job in another city. Or state. Or even country. You always wanted to live in Canada, so this would be the perfect outcome. Perfectly terrible outcome.

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #foggy nelson #karen page #marvel daredevil #marvel #netflix daredevil #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #wilson fisk #lawyers #bound by law #matts superhearing complicates things for you #human disaster matt murdock

[shadyruinskryptonite]

Titan Bending Chapter 21

Warning: Violence consistent with cannon, NSFW so MDNI, language, major character death (both consistent with canon of both AOT and ATLA as well as diverging from canon), so much trauma literally everyone is so traumatized, very much slow burn, a little enemies to lovers, SO MUCH ANGST, hurt/comfort, hurt and delayed comfort, AFAB reader

Anything in bold is considered to be a different language and the context will specify what that language may be.

Chapter Warnings: None for this one!

WC: 3937

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Masterlist

Tags: @mochminnie @sseleniaa @naruwitch

“Mikasa, how are the veggies looking? And Connie, can you stir the pot? Also, when was the last time someone - Sokka, whatever you’re doing, don’t - checked on Sasha to make sure she’s still tied up?” I call out like a chef.

“Good! Just finished chopping!” Mikasa yells as Connie moves to stir the aforementioned pot.

“I’ll go check on her,” Jean sighs.

Preparations for the picnic are coming along swimmingly. With everyone helping out, I’m able to step away for a moment to get ready. 

“Okay, I’ve gotta shower quickly so while I’m gone everyone listen to Katara,” I say as I take off my apron.

I practically run to the bathroom to shower as quickly as I can so I’m not away for long. When I get out, instead of braiding my hair like I normally do, I wrap it in a towel on top of my head. Once I’m back in my room, I throw on my new dress and, for the first time in years, I begin lacing my watertribe beads into my hair. I do loopies similar to Katara’s, two on each side, that feed into a loose top knot secured with larger medallion. 

As I’m fixing my beads into my hair, I’m able to take a real, hard look at myself. It’s weird to have the realization that I haven’t seen myself dress like a person since I was a small child. 

When was the last time I openly wore my beads? When I was seven?

I’m ripped out of my thoughts by a knock at the door. 

“Y/n! We’re taking stuff out of the oven, hurry up!” Sokka calls.

With one last quick joosh of my hair I swing my door open to find Sokka still standing there.

“Holy shit, you look like a girl!” He exclaims.

I merely roll my eyes at him before heading to the kitchen.

When I walk in, Jean is pulling out a casserole, Connie is STILL stirring, and Katara and Suki are putting finishing touches on the veggies and fruit. I can’t get over how amazing everything smells.

As I enter and get straight to work, I ask, “Is everything set up outside?”

Instead of people answering me, I’m met with a loud silence. All of the sounds of the kitchen stop simultaneously. Pausing what I’m doing, I look around a bit confused. “What?”

It’s Suki that whispers, “You look really pretty.” 

I’m immediately a bit bashful and I can feel a blush creeping up on my face. “Oh, thank you.” After I regain my composure, I clear my throat and ask again, “Is everything set up outside?” 

“I-I think Commander H-Hange and C-Captain L-Levi are already out there. Connie! Let’s go grab Sasha and we can put the blanket out!” Jean stammers, making me chuckle a bit.

“Y-yeah! Sure!” When Connie stumbles over his words, I glance down to make sure I didn’t accidentally come out naked.

With the casserole having sat for a few minutes to set, I begin cutting it into serving sizes. “Oh, Mikasa, will you grab the lemonade out of the fridge? Eren, you can take the fruit and veggies out and Armin, why don’t you grab the cups, plates, and silverware. The five of us can take care of the food.”

Mikasa and Eren nod in agreement, but Armin looks like he wants to say something. I stand there expectantly, but when he opens his mouth a strange squeak is all that comes out, so he quickly closes it and nods like Eren adn Mikasa. Again, I chuckle and ruffle his hair which seems to short circut him even farther. Once they head out, Toph turns in my general direction.

“You must look crazy because every single one of those boys little hearts were beating like run away trains.”

The five of us that are still in the kitchen all burst into laughter. “For god’s sake, I’m wearing a dress not my birthday suit,” I say between giggles. 

“I think it’s the combination of the dress, the color, and the hair,” Katara postulates.

Before I pick up the casserole, Suki elbows me in the side playfully, wiggling her eyebrows and saying, “If that’s how these kids with their crushes act, I’ll be interested to see the Captain’s reaction.”

“Oh my god, here we go,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Wait! Wait! The short angry one?! You two…?!” Sokka questions, desperately trying to catch up.

“No!” I say looking back and forth from Suki to Sokka and back again. “There is nothing going on! He and Hange are just the only other adults in this place so I’m good friends with both of them!”

As we walk outside, Toph speaks up once again. In a sing-song voice she says, “That’s not what EITHER of your hearts say though!”

Grunting at her comment, I can see the group in the distance. “Alright, enough! All of you!” I hiss.

They’re all still cackling as we crest the hill. A small table has been set up for the food, presumably by Levi so that nothing gets set on the ground. Everyone is sitting on the blanket with the exception of the Captain who stands with his arms crossed. 

Once we’re finally close enough for everyone to get a good look at each other, I can hear Sasha yell, “Holy shit, she DOES look really hot!” I try to ignore it as to not embarrass them further but she doubles down. “Y/n, has anyone told you you look really hot?”

Now I can’t hold back my laughter, especially when all of those boys look like they’re praying for a titan to come out of nowhere and swallow them whole. Still laughing but also fighting my own embarassment, I say, “Not in so many words, but thank you Sasha.”

We all settle in with our plates and I can tell everyone is enjoying the meal because no one is saying anything. That is, until Katara leans over to whisper to me.

“Your man hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you.” She says with a wink.

On instinct, I punch her in the arm. But even so, my curiosity gets the better of me and I can’t help but sneak a glance in his direction. And, sure as shit, he was already looking at me. When we make eye contact, I swear I see him blush again.

Seriously, there’s no way they’re right…right?

As everyone finishes up, the sun is just barely beginning to set so the entire field is washed in a beautiful golden light. I flop down in the grass and close my eyes, happy to soak in the day’s last few rays. 

From the other side of the blanket, I hear Hange ask, “So, what’s the plan for this trip?”

It’s Sokka that replies, explaining, “I think we should leave first thing tomorrow. We’re going to fly straight through to Ba Sing Se which will take a large part of the day. We’ll land at King Kuei’s palace probably in the early evening. If we plan it right we should be getting there just as Aang and Zuko are finishing up the day’s meeting so we should be there for dinner.”

Curious, I butt in, “Are we staying at the palace overnight? And how long will we be in Ba Sing Se for?”

A little uneasily, Sokka answers, “Well, team Avatar will for sure be staying in the palace, but I’m not entirely sure about everyone else. We’ll be there for maybe two days and two nights, so there’s a chance it will be no big deal, but just in case it is a problem, everyone else will probably bunk at Iroh’s -”

I immediately shoot up, absolutely beaming. “We’ll get to see Uncle Iroh?! I don’t care what the plan is, I wanna stay with him!”

Sokka, Katara, Suki, and Toph grin. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have you,” Katara says warmly.

“Does he know I’m coming?” I ask excitedly.

“No, he shouldn’t. Zuko, Aang and I agreed that it would be a fun surprise. When we talked they agreed that they’d just give him a heads up that there’s a slim chance he might need to house some people for a few nights,” Sokka explains. 

Looking to the others and lingering on Levi for an extra moment, I explain, “Uncle Iroh owns a tea shop. He’s who taught me how to make tea. You all will absolutely LOVE him!”

“You keep calling him ‘Uncle.’ Is he YOUR uncle?” Hange asks.

I giggle a little. “Oh, no. Actually, he’s Zuko’s uncle. But I just call him that from the time the three of us spent traveling.”

Under his breath, Sokka mumbles, “He was ALMOST your uncle.”

God I hope no one heard that.

Suki and Toph both almost choke when they start laughing and based on everyone else’s faces, I know they all heard it. I merely glare at Sokka. 

Of course, it’s Hange that questions it. “What do you mean?”

The Gaang laughs harder and I try my hardest to dismiss it. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“When I said that she probably hasn’t told you anything remotely personal, this is what I mean,” Suki says through her laughter. “I take it that she hasn’t told you that she and Zuko were engaged at one point?”

“WHAT?!” They all say in unison. 

Glaring at Suki now, I swear I feel my eye twitch a little. Without looking away from her, I continue trying to end the conversation by saying, “Yeah, we were engaged for a few months after the war. It’s not a big deal though.”

“That sounds like a pretty big fuckin deal to me!” Hange almost squeals. Everyone is incredulous, but she’s the only one that really pushes for more information. “Wait, does that mean you could’ve been the…Fire…lady?”

I sigh, finally turning to look at her in defeat. “Yes, I was in fact supposed to be essentially the queen of the Fire Nation.”

Now, it’s Sasha that chimes in. “So you were literally royalty and…chose to live in titan country instead?”

I laugh a little. “I mean, it’s a little more complicated than that but yes. I left because, well, I don’t exactly scream royalty.”

“And the Fire Nation has a ton of rules, which aren’t exactly her thing,” Katara adds.

For the first time in this entire conversation, I’m infinitely grateful for something one of them said because that seemed to end the barrage of questions for the time being.

With the sun now setting further, I smack my legs a little and stand up, saying, “Welp, I think we should probably start tidying up and head in.”

Wordlessly, everyone starts pitching in. Once everyone is inside, I dismiss the kids to get ready for bed since we’ll have an early morning and I start doing the dishes. After a few minutes alone, I feel someone approach. Without turning around, I scold them a little. “Hey, I said go get ready for bed, I’ve got this under control.”

Without responding, the figure gets closer and starts drying the dishes. Glancing sideways, I realize it’s not one of the kids but instead Levi.

“Oh, Levi, you don’t have to do that,” I say in surprise.

“I know,” is all he responds.

Typical.

We work quietly like this for a few moments, but as we do I realize something feels off. I don’t immediately address it, figuring that he wouldn’t appreciate that. As we finish up, he offers to make tea and I happily accept. Watching as he steeps the leaves, I help him carry the cups up to the roof where we sit in our usual places.

Wanting to break the silence and hopefully get him talking, I ask, “So, did you like the meal.”

“It was good,” he states simply. I nod in acceptance.

Another beat of silence passes and I think through my options. Luckily, I don’t have to ponder for long.

“Why haven’t you told us more about yourself?” He asks distantly, staring out at the walls on the horizon.

I shrug a little. “Just not important, I guess.”

He finally looks at me and I can’t discern the emotion on his face. What I can tell though is that he’s thinking over his next words. Finally, he says, “It would help us understand you better, so seems important to me.”

I shrug again, looking away from him. “My experiences aren’t the important part. Understanding my bending and my world is what’s helpful.”

Another silence passes between us before I add, “It’s not like you’re exactly forthcoming with your past, either.”

I hear him snort a little, a quiet acknowledgement that I’m right. 

Before much time passes, Levi quietly asks, “Is that what your fight was about a few nights ago?”

“Huh?” I ask, knowing full well what he was referring to but wanting to buy myself a little time to think over what I wanted to say.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he calls my bluff.

I snort a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I uh, I guess I do. And, um, yeah. Something like that.”

Levi snorts again before saying, “Interesting tactic.”

I furrow my brows. “What do you mean?”

“Just that I wouldn’t think trying to kill someone would be the best way to win them back. What do I know though, everyone always tells me I have shit people skills,” he says dryly.

This makes me fully belly laugh, and I can tell Levi is innitially caught off guard my boisterous reaction. When my laughing subsides, I agree. “No, you’re spot on, I had that exact same thought as I was dodging fuckin’ fireballs.”

Levi laughs at this, and it’s maybe the first time that I’ve ever heard him laugh that genuinely. I put my hand on his arm and he stops instantly, making me regret touching him. However, when he looks at me, I softly say, “I think you have great people skills, actually. Unconventional, sure, but you always seem to know exactly what people need.”

“I-I do?” He responds a bit dumb founded.

My hand still on his arm, I smile and nod. “Yeah. Like, for example, when the interior took Eren and Historia and Armin had to kill that woman, you knew that they needed to talk about it. You got them talking with some stupid joke or something. And then, when Armin was spiraling, you knew when to cut him off so that he didn’t have to verbalize that he was a murderer. You were still honest, but you reassured him.” I look away, laughing a bit as I say, “I remember that instance specifically because that was the first time I really noticed that you weren’t just a dick.”

Another snort.

I go to move my hand away but Levi quickly puts his other hand on top of mine, holding it in place. My head snaps to look at him but he isn’t making eye contact. In response, I squeeze his arm a bit and leave my hand where it was.

Suddenly feeling very hot, I change the subject. “To sort of explain Zuko a little bit though, I don’t think it’s that he was trying to ‘win me back’ by attacking me. I think he just had a lot of anger that boiled up all at once.”

“Why was he angry, because you left?”

“I mean, yeah. Not just that though, I think it was the circumstances that made me leave. I kept telling him how much I hated the stupid etiquet classes that I had to take. One day I just sort of realized that that wasn’t the life I wanted to live. I mean,” I gesture to myself, “I suppose this outfit isn’t the best example, but I’m really not cut out for any kind of prim-and-proper life. Plus, the people of the Fire Nation had to be completely deprogramed after all of the propaganda they had been forcefed their entire lives. They literally thought that all other elements were inferior, so there was a lot of anger over the fact that I’m a water bender. I just decided that I didn’t want to put up with that so I thought about it and realized that in my life, I was the happiest when I had lived on my own in the woods, so that’s what I opted to do. Whether he accepts it or not, I can guarantee it has also made his time as Fire Lord easier because that’s one less thing he’ll have push back about.”

Levi nods, seemingly in understanding. “It’s got to be hard to walk away from a royal life though,” he postulates.

“Eh, it was easier than you’d think. I mean, put yourself in that situation. While yes, you’d want for nothing, after living a life based on survival it’s nearly impossible to adjust to. I had lived so many years just wanting a normal life that going from an essentially nomadic lifestyle to an opulent one was a huge shock to my system. I had spent so many years resenting the rich that I couldn’t stand being in that environment. I can’t help but think you’d be disgusted with it, too.”

“I guess you’ve got a point there,” is all he says. 

I squeeze his arm again, but this time I do retract my hand. I stand up and say, “Well, we probably should try to sleep a little. We’ve got a few pretty busy days coming up.”

He nods wordlessly and gathers up the tea supplies that we had brought with us. I help him with the dishes and finally part ways at our respective doors.

The next morning, Suki and I take our run before the sun comes up as that was the only time we’d be able to squeeze it in. About a mile in, she turns to me and asks, “So, where’s your head at?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Zuko is obviously still in love with you and then you’ve got your entire fan club here, not the least of which being Levi. Ya know, no matter how much you deny it we know you have feelings for him too,” she states.

I roll my eyes. “I’ll tell you what I told Katara, Zuko needs to get over me. I would be lying if I said a part of me doesn’t still love him, but no amount of love can make up for the unhappiness I felt living in the palace. The man I was with there was not the version of Zuko that I fell in love with. I also can’t go back because I couldn’t live everyday in peace knowing that the people I care about here could be fighting for their lives. As far as the ‘fan club,’ they’re kids with crushes, simple as that. I adore them like I do you and the Gaang but they are all literal children and I think I would call the police on myself if I returned feelings for any of them. Levi though…”

I trail off, giving Suki a chance to add, “He’s certainly not a child.”

“No, that he’s not. We really couldn’t stand each other when I first got here so it’s taken me a little while to get past some of my original impressions of him. Honestly, until you and Katara said something I hadn’t even considered anything romantic there. Ya know, boys have never really been a priority for me. Any relationship I’ve found myself in I just sort of stumbled into so I’m not really observant with these types of things.”

She huffs out a laugh and chides, “Yeah, you could say that again.”

Once again confused, I spare her a quick sideways glance. She explains, “You are SO oblivious when it comes to men and romance.”

Slightly offended, I bite back, “I am NOT oblivious! I just don’t care to notice!”

Without breaking stride, she pats me on the shoulder and says, “No offense, but you have no clue the spell that you put most men under.”

Still shocked, I say, “Well, I’m not trying to!”

“Exactly, I think that’s part of what does it. You’re magnetic because you’re so self assured. But seriously, did you see the way Levi’s eyes almost jumped out of his head when you walked out last night?”

Truth be told, I had not noticed that. But I wasn’t about to let her know that. “Whatever,” I mumble. “This is a dumb conversation anyway, we sound like some pre-teen girls.”

She laughs as Sokka emerges in the distance. We can’t hear him, but I’m pretty sure he’s waving to us so we finish our workout and head over to him. As we get closer, I can see everyone bustling around and loading up the airship. This is the first time I had taken a good look at the airship and something dawns on me.

“Sokka, did they refurbish one of the airships from Sozin’s Comet?”

Suddenly a bit gloomier, Sokka nods. I stand back to take a better look at it. The platform where soldiers stood to incinerate the Earth Kingdom is still attached. I lose myself in thought, a strange combination of sadness and anger washing over me.

As Sokka tentatively approaches me, I ask, “I could get past maintaining some of the design elements, but did they really have to keep that?”

“Zuko tried to have it removed, but unfortunately it’s connected to some important infrastructure on the ship itself,” Sokka laments.

“Why doesn’t he just chop off the catwalk part then?” I enquire.

“Can’t do that either, it’s too heavy and the way the ship was constructed it would thow off the balance.” He pauses before whispering, “Trust me, he wanted to.”

I give a curt nod. It’s pretty plain to tell that this wasn’t just an explanation but rather a defense of Zuko. Patting Sokka’s arm, I say, “C’mon, let’s have some breakfast.”

At the table, everyone is absolutely buzzing with excitement and I can’t help but smile at them all. Everyone ate at Sasha speed so we could head out as quickly as possible.

As we all start loading onto the airship, I see Levi hesitate. Turning to question him, he says, “Are you sure this thing is safe?”

I laugh and grab him, practically dragging him towards the balloon. “Yes, Levi. It’s perfectly fine.”

Once on board, Sokka starts pulling handles and turning buttons and you can hear the engine room roaring to life. As the scent of burning coal completely takes over, the ship lifts off the ground. Everyone plasters themselves to the windows to watch the ground grow smaller beneath us, and I even see Levi trying to be nonchalant about the experience. 

In about 20 minutes we’re over the ocean and at this point Hange has realized that Sokka is a captive audience for her ramblings, so she starts birating him with rapid fire questions about the airship and how it works. Luckily, Sokka just seems happy to explain it. With everyone settled in, I sneak away to enjoy the journey on my own.

While I hate the original purpose of the catwalk, I also recognize that it would have the best views, so when I’m alone that’s where I take up residence. There’s nothing but water in every direction, the wind is blowing through my hair. All-in-all, it’s very peaceful. So, I pop a squat and prepare to enjoy the next few hours.

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #avatar: the last airbender #atla #the gaang #Levi Ackerman #Levi x y/n #Captain Levi #Levi x reader #Hange Zoe #Prince Zuko #Zuko #Zuko x y/n #Aang #Katara #Sokka #Toph #Suki

[buckyismybicycle]

So we know Bucky’s serum is slightly different than Steve’s. But….what if it effects the rate of healing.

As in……what if certain marks lasted longer on Bucky…

Scratches on his back.

Hickeys on his neck, hips, thighs, and chest.

Teeth marks from being bitten.

And since you’ve gotten me obsessed with Bucky/Torres, here’s a thirsty thirsty thot.

Bucky is just ravenous when it comes to his boy. Marks him up. Hickeys. Scratches. Handprints. But what if the roles were reversed.

What if it’s Joaquin’s turn to mark Bucky up after they realize his serum is just slightly slower at healing.

What if Joaquin jumps Bucky the moment he walks in the door from a mission. Bucky’s been gone for weeks and there’s only so long the dildo, that’s an exact replica of Bucky’s dick, is satisfying. Joaquin isn’t one to be this feral so to speak so it’s new for Bucky.

New but not uninvited.

Bucky’s liking this newness as he carries Joaquin to their bedroom. He’s loving this ferality.

And it isn’t until after they’ve tangled in the sheets that Bucky’s feeling a bit sore. His burns a bit when they go and take a shower. He turns around and has Joaquin check.

“I don’t think I came in contact with fire or any chemicals on the mission that would cause a burn.”

“It’s…um….no you didn’t.”

“Then what is it?”

“How fast is your healing factor with the serum?”

“Not sure exactly. Why?”

“I think it’s slower than Steve’s.”

“Baby boy what are you getting at?”

Joaquin’s ushers them both out of the show and has Bucky turn around so his back is facing the bathroom mirror. He hands Bucky a handheld mirror.

“Baby boy.”

Bucky’s back is covered in scratches. Some short. Some long. Some even look pretty deep. His whole back. From his neck to just above his ass.

“Scratch me up line a kitten usin’ a scratchin’ post.” Bucky pauses and looks at Joaquin. He throws the handheld mirror on the counter then pushed Joaquin against the back of the bathroom door. “There’s a new name, Kitten.”

And if Joaquin’s knees buckle to where he collapsed on the floor only for Bucky to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder and take him back to bed….that’s between Joaquin and his Slutty Internal Thoughts

Oh Hannah, my dear sweet Hannah. You know “Joaquin’s Slutty Internal Thoughts” is one of my favourite tags.

I can practically hear him mewling at the sight — finally, finally being able to claim Bucky in a way that’s so personal and so fitting for their relationship.

Don’t get me wrong he fucking LOVES being marked up by Bucky, loves that he shows up with bruises and scratches and his Air Force buddies are like “Jesus Christ what mauled you” and he’s all dopey and daydreaming like “my boyfriend” (or “my daddy”, you know, whatever).

Or maybe someone stares a little too long as the deep ass hickey on Joaquin’s neck and the next thing he knows, Bucky’s got his arm around Joaquin’s waist, metal plates clicking threateningly while he straight up growls at the other person to fuck off.

It shows everyone that he belongs to Bucky, and he would have it no other way.

… but to be so bold as to say that… Bucky might belong to him too?

Joaquin is DONE FOR.

(And so am I)

#bucky barnes headcanon #hr casually thirsting #hannahshattuck #HR GOES ON A JOURNEY #BUCKYTORRES #buckquin

[dogmomwrites]

Find the Words!

This one's actually from this month! 😂 Thanks for the tag, @k--havok! I'll be passing it along with soft tags to @writingpotato07, @mercurialsmile, @theglitchywriterboi, and @smol-feralgremlin, as well as an open tag for anyone else who wants to join!

Your words will be cliff, forward, friend, fail, and blush. If you can't find one, leave a fun fact about your WIP, OCs, or writing process!

My words were face, music, hurt, very, and enough. These excerpts were taken from book 4 of my Castle series, which I hope will start cooperating soon

Face Aero’s voice came from behind them as the rest of the group followed their assigned leaders. “If I die here because of you two, I will not be happy about it.”

“You could come back as a ghost,” Nuka said, then suddenly turned to walk backwards, his face excited. “We could all come back as ghosts! And we’d haunt these dragons for killing us!”

“Do not try to get us killed,” Aero protested.

Music While it was still in the air, they could see the gold dragon’s wings were connected to its body all the way down to the base of its tail, and in place of horns and spikes along its jaws, there were two wide plates of covered bone that spread out from either side of its face and curved at each sharp tip to resemble the blades of a double-sided battleaxe.

It was easily the most eye-catching of the dragons, its shining scales almost blinding in the sunlight, its expansive wings rippling like waves in an ocean of molten gold. It landed with less of a bone-jarring shudder as its companion, aureate claws digging into the dirt but without throwing any like the red dragon had.

It looked down at the humans and let out a puff of smoke. The valley had grown quiet enough that they could hear the click of tiny scales when it blinked. “Well,” it said in an unexpectedly musical voice. There was clear amusement in its tone as well.  “This is a bit awkward for you to explain, Risskora-aiyin.”

The smaller red dragon let out a growl.

Hurt “Caleb.” Neal tried to school his voice into a more patient and reasonable tone. “I can see how much pain you’re in. If you try to go through with this, you’re going to hurt yourself. You’ll rip your stitches. You’ll start bleeding again. If there are no doctors around to sew you back together, you’ll set all your healing back to square one—or worse. There’s nothing in here to fix anything you do to yourself.”

“Are you done?”

He huffed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Now can you shut up and let me work?”

Very“Are they related to Hank Whitethorn?”

“One of Captain Nightwish’s soldiers?” he asked in surprise. Before Raavi had a chance to respond, he said, “No, no, hold on. I said I’d let you wait. So I’ll wait. I’m not even going to ask about the bandages on your arm. Nope. I’m just going to wait. And not ask. Even though I’m very curious and very concerned—as any dutiful, loving father would be—I’m not going to ask. I’m simply going to wait. Yes. With great patience.”

“I got bit by a dragon,” Raavi said.

A stunned silence. Then, “What?”

Enough To his credit, Russav didn’t flinch despite not having prepared himself. He covered up that he hadn’t expected Pipkin, and replaced the startled expression with a more casual and friendly one. “Comfortable?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Pipkin said after taking a short moment to settle down on his perch. His long purple tail hung down over Russav’s shoulder and halfway down his back. “Although I wouldn’t be adverse to a little seat being attached. It could easily be harnessed to your shoulders.”

That made him pause mid-step, and he looked to see Pipkin was staring straight ahead. “Are you wanting to saddle me?”

Without turning to him, Pipkin drew his lip up in a human grin.

Russav looked past him to Raavi, who was fighting his own grin. He couldn’t decide if they’d planned the joke or not. “We’ll consider it,” he said, then continued down the hall.

The last thing the council heard before the door closed was Russav Fangsong making horse noises as he walked away with his son.

#find the words #find the word tag #tag game #tag games #writer games #open tag #open to everyone #my writing #yavs writing #castle in the ice #castle in the ice series

[madmarchhare]

Another exert from my 'When the Times Change' novel.

It's in the same chapter as the last one, really just a few paragraphs from it. Hope you like, and again this is a post apocalypse story, so if you don't think that's for you, don't read it. Hope you all like it!

“Why should I listen to you, you’re accomplices to it!” Her face a deep crimson in fury. Bullet looked slightly wounded by her comment but quickly wiped it off his face, keeping mostly to anger and worry.

“No, we aren’t, all we do is let it go by and mind our own people.” His voice firm as he spoke.

Again Lil’ flared up, yelling In a booming voice that echoed in the street and caught the attention of the thinning crowds in the street and a few idle eyes from house windows or porches; “It’s slavery! How in the hell can you just, ‘let it go by’?!” Her rant let me know what was going on. Namely Lil’ was throwing one of her little hissy fits at the realities of the world and her little noble speeches. Bullet himself looked at her hard from under his hat, keeping himself tall, his shoulders straight.

“We can because there is no way we can stop it. They have more men, guns, and pure and simple cash than us. There is no point in risking the lives of my people just for the sake of a bunch of strangers. Who, in our position, would at best ignore us and at worst buy us for themselves. I have a duty to this town and its people as it’s leader.” Pausing as he spoke, stepping close, a more sorrowful look on his face for some reason. “And I can’t compromise that for the sake of saving some unknown strangers.” He finished jabbing his finger onto her chest, agitation having bled back onto his face, growling out with his sentence.

Lil’ made a slight growl in response, and batted his hand away, both mirroring each others expression their agitation placed plainly on their faces. “Well, I’m helping them, regardless of what you think, and you yellow fucks better not interfere.” She replied, turning her back to them and shoving me ahead of her, almost daring me to join Bullet and Max’s protests. So that she could just off me right now, a manic look deep down in her eyes, that I doubted even she was aware of, glinting within them like a kukri blade.

“Wait!” Max suddenly called out to us, or more specifically, them. Lil’ cocked her head back, agitatedly, turning her side to them, a snarl on her mouth. Expecting to be stopped by force. “If you’re going to do this, you’ll need some help.” Max finished, Lil’ looking caught off guard for a moment, the same being said for Bullet, who gave Max an odd glance, but the latter put up a hand as he was asking him to trust him, and Bullet rolled his eyes slightly and walked up with him. “We can’t help you, and most of the people of this town have got too much on their plates already.” Lil’ managing a neutral expression as she listened Rock doing the same at her side, but an edge of disapproval still carving its way out of Lil’s gaze. “But there is someone mad, and capable enough to help you. An old marksman who lives in town, Mr G. Morgan. He keeps, or kept trying to get us to go after the slavers too. To ‘take up arms against oppressors’. But no one goes with him anymore. Used to, but, It was usually just him who came back.” Looking dead in Lil’s eyes as he spoke, hoping to drive home the fatality, and pointlessness of fighting, trying to use reason. As usual, she didn’t care for reason.

He sighed slightly and continued. “He lives in a house down the main road, stays on watch signing old songs to himself. Tall man with short grey hair, dressed in flannel and tan coloured trousers. Can’t miss him.” Gesturing down the road to the house where I had seen the man with the revolver. Lil’ inspected the two for another moment, her face flickering between begrudging gratitude and disgust, but she eventually stilled her expression and nodded to the pair, managing a smile, and walked down the road, Rock following on silently after, weaving themselves through the now near empty street to the house.

 The man was still sat on his porch, appearing to stare wildly off into a distance that wasn’t there, spinning a large spent brass case about in his fingers absent-mindedly, not taking note of it himself. He was a reasonably tall man, not as tall as Bullet or Lil’ but would tower over most people. His skin was tanned and creased like old leather, marked by scars and pockmarks. He was dressed in a faded red flannel shirt, over which he wore a thin tan jacket that just covered past his shoulder, leaving his thick arms exposed. Cuts laced across his forearms, hidden slightly by old muscle. A similar tan coloured pair of trousers with a spiral of thread going up the legs and rugged leather belt round his waist, a holster holding a gigantic revolver hanging off it, any finish once on it gone, but not bearing a single vestige of ill use.

He turned his head to us quickly and looked deeply at us with a pair of beetle black eyes, irises like pin pricks. His face was hard and thick, an untended moustache wriggling like a massive white insect on his lip, an old scar splitting upwards through it, cutting it in two. His marbled grey hair poked out slightly onto his brow from under a faded rifleman’s cap, old curtains tacked on it’s back to cover his neck and ears. “Mr Morgan?” Lil’ began her voice firm and unwavering as she posed her question.

“What do you want?” He replied brusquely, speaking in a sort of country voice, his tone sharp.

“We heard that you would help us fight the slavers.” Lil’ replied, her voice clear as she continued on with her nonsense. At this he seemed to jostle slightly in his seat.

“You’re fighting them?” A curious excitement in his voice along with a note of disbelief, a small smile tugging at his left lip.

“Yes since no one else seems to be doing it. “A loathing sourness deep in her voice as she spoke, a sneer pulling itself to attention on her lips. His smile broke wide on his face, pulling up the other side, and he jumped out of his chair, his boots clomping loudly on the wooden decking.

“Then let us go.” Reaching into his house and deftly pulling a rucksack from behind the wall, as well as some steel plate which he tied to his limbs as he walked, a gravely laugh howling into the midday sky, like a mad dog’s bark. Great. Another lunatic moralist. Both Lil’ and Rock followed after him, looking pleased, dragging me with them. He took them down the road to the town hall where both Bullet and Max stood laden with weapons. I hoped they were here to finally stop them, realising their error, to force them to concede and move one, ending this idiotic charade of a crusade. Or at the very least shoot them so I could finally get on and do as I please.

Lil’ looked ready to fight, if need be, but Bullet just raised his hand to stop her. He wasn’t hiding the irritation on his face, yet he look oddly accepting, “we aren’t here to stop you,” dammit, “we came here to accompany you to the ridge.” Getting confused looks from the pair in response, Morgan nodding genially. “I am the mayor of this town, and it is my job to protect its people. Morgan is one of its people, so we’ll come to make sure he’s safe.” Lil’ looked like she was about to say something, likely on the lines of how Bullet finally saw the ‘error of his ways’ or some other stupid shit. But Bullet cut her off again. “But we’re only guiding you to the ridge, no further.” His face stiff as he finished, clearly unsettled in his decision. Honestly, it would be far easier for the town just to shoot the pair and be done with it.

Lil’ looked hard at him and Max for a second, making her displeasure with them clear on her face, but then nodded and motioned for Morgan to lead on. As they moved on, I opened my mouth to protest and try and be left behind, but Rock whirled around at me with a wild gaze, baring his teeth.

I shut up, none of the three strangers noticing that little exchange. I’m surrounded by idiots.

@agarespicero @gaap-goemon-ismylife @psycho-zom-atic @jemimacatclover @shark-smuggler @shaoron @irumeanie @sleepy-gry @pemopemochimi @csoisoi @the-messenger-hawk @momonoki-a-real-teacher @trans-asmodeus @noyakwajhang

#When the Times Change #Asriel Yuri Lemoni #Lillian Duke #Rockerfeller #Max. C. Connors #Bullet. S. Lee #HMAD #George. T. Morgan

[dendroaspis-polylepis]

Oath of Vengeance: Chapter 2

Camp is set up, tieflings are embarrassed, and plans are discussed.

Chapter 1

Read it on AO3

After about half an hour of walking, the group found a suitable clearing to set up camp, with a river flowing nearby. The water was freezing, but it was better than nothing. Over the next forty-five minutes, tents were pitched, a roaring fire was started, food was set to cook, and armor was removed in favor of much more comfortable evening wear. The sun had just dipped below the tree line. Lae'zel was kind enough to assist Ret with peeling off the many layers of plate and padding she wore, the pair making quick work of it.

Giving the gith a small smile, Ret thanked her for her assistance.

“You can thank me by cleaning it tonight. Tarnished armor is prone to weakness, and I'll not see you cut down on the battlefield due to something so simple to remedy as washing it.” Giving the air a sniff, she added, “And it reeks of offal. While we are in the wilderness, we do not need to smell of it.” With that, the githyanki returned to her tent, sharpening her blades.

Retribution liked Lae'zel. While she was rough around the edges, her straight-to-the-point attitude was more than welcome.

Looking down at her pile of disarticulated armor, Ret made a quick stop at her tent to change into a light shirt and pants and grab a jar of dry soap before carrying everything to the river's shore. Taking a moment to get into a comfortable kneeling position with her legs folded under her, she set to work.

Shadowheart was there as well, scrubbing dried blood out of her chainmail. The cleric gave her a knowing grin before returning to her armor.

“So, you and Astarion, hmm?”

“No.” Ret dipped her rag in the water before swirling it through the dry soap, making a froth. If she didn’t acknowledge her feelings, this would blow over eventually.

“Oh, so you just hold hands and blush like a schoolgirl with everyone you meet? I'm almost offended; I didn't even hold a knife to your throat the first time we met!” Shadowheart laughed, then paused. “Unless you like that?” She eyed Ret warily.

“No! He had just dragged me out of an awkward situation before we met up with everyone, that's all.” Thankfully, none of the gore from the previous few days was too ground in, making cleaning easier.

“So absolutely nothing happened between you two?” Shadow's left eyebrow raised incredulously; her face turned towards the paladin to fully read her body language.

“For the last time, no!” Her scrubbing across her armor became more vigorous, as if the more thoroughly she cleaned, the less the cleric would suspect anything. Shadowheart definitely didn't need to know just how close Retribution came to kissing him when he pulled her into that little alcove. Or how her heart jolted at his lies to the tieflings. Ret didn’t really know what to make of it all, herself.

Shadowheart snickered, “I just might believe you if your tail wasn't giving you away.”

Sure enough, when Ret glanced back, the last third of her tail made a fan in the dirt with its traitorous flicking. Grabbing it up, she promptly tucked it under her ankles.

Laughing, Shadowheart attempted to placate Ret, “You know no one would judge you if something did happen, right? We're likely days away from becoming mindflayers. The last thing anyone here cares about is who's bedding who.”

“Of course I know, it’s j-,” she caught herself before she could continue blathering. How could she fully articulate all of her feelings? That she was both interested in and suspicious of his advances in equal measure? He was practically throwing himself at… her. Sure, options were slim in camp, but there were certainly more attractive people here for him to choose. People who weren’t missing half their face.

Hoping to change the subject, she asked, “How did your shield shopping go?”

Shadowheart's eyes tightened. She knew redirection when she saw it, but was kind enough to not say anything. “Quite well. One of the tieflings is a smith and was able to repair it.” By this point, Shadowheart’s chainmail was free of debris. Setting it behind her, she reached for Retribution's shrinking pile to help.

“I also met with their apothecary, afterwards. Nice enough woman, though she seemed... strange,” her brows furrowed. “There's definitely something off about her. Knew about our tadpoles without my mentioning it. She did offer to help us with them at her cottage and even marked it on my map.” Pulling the map out, Shadowheart pointed to a circle scrawled in what Ret knew was a swamp. That might make her trip to the swamp docks all the more worthwhile.

“Couldn't hurt to check. Until we find Halsin, we might not want to turn our noses up at any opportunities that present themselves,” Ret suggested.

Nodding, Shadowheart ran her fingers along the parchment. “There's a village to our west. We may be able to move camp there tomorrow, and head south after everything's set up. Shouldn't be too hard, as long as we don’t get pulled off-track.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, good thinking.” Ret received a bright smile in response. “We should be about done here, let’s let the others know and see if anyone else has insight.”

By this point, both of their armor sets were washed, so they returned to the rest of the group around the campfire, dropping armor off at their respective tents on the way. Retribution also took the opportunity to tease her hair out of its braid.

Gale was animatedly talking with Wyll about the group's adventures so far, occasionally turning pieces of meat on a pan with a disembodied blue hand. Lae'zel was seated on the ground, leaning against a fallen log while she fixed her hair, taking some braids out while putting new ones in. Astarion was nowhere to be seen, but Gale informed her that he had gone hunting. Satisfied that everyone was alive (so far), she went over her and Shadowheart's plans for tomorrow.

Wyll's ears perked at hearing about a village. “It's been overrun with goblins. I was able to clear out some of 'em, but they just kept multiplying. I'm pretty sure the ones in the village are part of the same... clan? Party? I don't actually know what a group of goblins is called-”

“A malignity!” Gale cheerfully offered.

“Thanks, mate. Pretty sure they're part of the same malignity that took Archdruid Halsin.”

“This is foolish! We shouldn’t waste time with this druid. The creche should provide us with all the information we need, and they can remove the parasites,” Lae’zel protested.

“What, after they remove all our innards, first?” Shadowheart flung back.

It wasn't a secret that the two women didn't like each other. Even back on the nautiloid ship, the two were butting heads. Shadowheart's initial standoffish greeting to Lae'zel certainly started them off on the wrong foot, and they never seemed to come to an agreement. This was only exacerbated by Astarion's prodding, seemingly for his own amusement. Retribution frequently had to step between them if their fighting started to go beyond petty jabs, citing their current tadpole issue that required their combined efforts.

“I make no promises for you, but they will see reason to help the others.” Lae'zel stood as she leaned towards the cleric.

“What did that tiefling have to say about where the creche was?” Retribution once again stepped between Shadowheart and Lae'zel, severing their line of sight to each other and attempting to change the subject.

“After he was done cowering, he informed me that the other githyanki were seen around two days' travel to the north west, and that the creche was likely a few more days' travel.”

Shadowheart scoffed, “Four days at the earliest? We’re already three days into being infected! If we’re lucky, we’ll turn into mindflayers on their doorsteps!”

Ret ignored her, “We can certainly visit them if the druid or Shadowheart's apothecary prove unsuccessful. Until then, I’d like to try solutions that are a bit closer.”

“These tadpoles are already anomalies, we should not wait,” Lae’zel objected. Seeing she was outnumbered, she sat again with a huff.

Following that, the group ironed-out their plans for tomorrow. They would wake up, break down camp, then immediately set out for the village before clearing the goblins out to set up camp once again around midday. If there was enough daylight remaining, one group would scout ahead to the goblin camp and get a general idea of their fortifications, while the other ventured into the swamp to meet with the apothecary, and maybe take a quick detour.

Turning to grab a book from her tent, Retribution nearly shat herself when she came face-to-face with the gaunt, desiccated face of the seemingly-friendly undead they had met in the ruined temple. While her pants remained clean, she let out a very undignified shout that immediately drew the attention of everyone around the fire, including Gale's tressym who hissed and arched her back threateningly.

The corpse was unaffected, expression unchanging. “We meet again, as predicted.” His voice had an otherworldly quality to it, deep and hissing, and sounding like multiple voices were speaking at once.

Regaining her composure, Retribution found her voice again, “So we have. What can I do for you?”

Apparently, the question should have been what he could do for her. As it turned out, he was well-versed in recalling souls to their bodies, and could resurrect her companions should they fall in battle. Though he was rather tight-lipped about how he could do this or why he was doing so for them specifically. She briefly considered asking him to resurrect Percy, but refused to even entertain the idea that they had died. They were out there somewhere, surely. She just had to look harder. With introductions out of the way, Withers found a quiet corner of camp to sit and look over a weathered tome, mumbling to himself.

A few minutes later, Astarion returned to camp with a limp rabbit slung over his shoulder. “I’m almost surprised to see everyone’s still in one piece; I thought I heard a banshee screeching about,” he drawled.

Everyone seated around the campfire threw a quick glance to Ret, causing her to roll her eye in response.

Gale eyed the rabbit, “Your hunting certainly went well, I’d say! Bring that here. Wyll, are you versed in field dressing game? It’s the one part of the culinary process I’m sorely lacking in, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, taught myself.” Taking the rabbits, Wyll appraised it, “Oh, it’s even bled, that’s half the battle! Thanks, I’ll be back in a sec.” With a warm wave, Wyll took the rabbit to the river to skin and gut.

With his hands now empty, Astarion looked around the assembled group before moving to sit uncomfortably close to Retribution. At least he had the good grace to sit on her right side.

She took this opportunity to brief him on their plans for tomorrow. Looking at him so closely in the firelight, she was able to thoroughly analyze his appearance. His features had certainly been sharp during their initial meeting, but over the past few days they only seemed to be getting more exaggerated. What Retribution had initially assumed was smudged makeup on their first day turned out to be steadily-darkening circles under his eyes. And while he wasn’t quite Ret’s chalk-white, his normally pale, pinkish skin had taken on a pallid countenance that bordered on grey, making the purplish rings under his eyes all the more pronounced. Looking past the mildly seductive gaze he near-constantly levelled at her, he looked to be on death’s doorsteps.

Reaching a hand up to his face, she placed a palm across his forehead to feel his temperature. He was as cold as the grave. Lowering her voice so the others couldn’t hear her concern, she questioned, “Are you alright? You’re practically freezing.”

It was like a switch was flipped. His previous sultry façade vanishing as his face pinched into a scow. He immediately recoiled, putting a few more inches of distance between the two of them, “I’m fine. It’s nothing your coddling could fix, anyhow,” he spat.

Standing to leave, Ret took hold of one of his icy hands, “At least eat something, please?”

Wrenching his hand free, he punctuated his statement with a firm, “Goodnight,” before storming off to his tent.

Looking back to the rest of her companions bewilderedly, Gale sent her a sympathetic smile.

At least she had time to think about who would fight in her blind spot, she supposed.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart were immediately out. While she was an exceptional fighter, Lae’zel was simply too mobile, and Ret wasn’t about to hold her back like that. Shadowheart almost had the opposite issue; her armor was too cumbersome to allow for quick adjustments, should Ret get a bit too eager on the backswing. It also wasn’t a great idea to keep the healer chained to her, considering Retribution had healing magic of her own, should she need it. She had yet to see Wyll fight, and for that reason alone he wasn’t an option. Maybe once she became more familiar with his movements on the battlefield she would reconsider. Gale was an incredible mage, but he fought too far back in fights for her taste, and she had no desire to be a glorified bodyguard.

Unfortunately, that left Astarion. His agile maneuvering and comfort with both bow and dagger was most similar to what she was already accustomed to fighting with, and his spellcasting abilities only further cemented himself as the obvious choice.

If he hadn’t just stormed off in a huff, she’d have no issue asking him outright. Maybe tomorrow he’d be in a better mood…

She was gently pulled from her musings with a warm plate of well-seasoned game bird being gently placed in her lap. Gale pointed to a spot on the log to her right, “Is this seat taken?”

Shaking her head in the negative, he promptly sat. Wyll asked the same about her left side, and she was quickly immersed in a friendly discussion about different types of magic casting. Even Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s constant bickering was set aside for the moment as they, too, had their own additions to the subject.

Eventually, the conversation wound down, and everyone present pitched in to clean. When all was finished, pleasant goodnights were exchanged as everyone retired to their respective tents.

#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #Tav: Retribution