#then i got every possible upgrade and collectible i could before coming back to this guy

[foxstens]

i just second tried the apparently tankiest boss in the game

#my posts #gameblogging #liveblogging ender lilies #like i kept coming across threads about how he's too tanky n shit #and i tried him once before i even beat ulv #i got him to half health so i def could have beaten him then #but instead i went back to ulv #who took me more tries mind you #then i got every possible upgrade and collectible i could before coming back to this guy #the fight did take a while and i took some hits #but the thing is the telegraphs are so obvious and the windup is so long #its really only the third phase that's the problem with every boss so far #and that i just kind of cheese with the bird #which has been my favourite spirit since the beginning and it is now maxed out #u know i appreciate the variety of spirits #but with most of them i just try them when iget them and then i never use them again #i feel like i have a pretty good handle on the game's mechanics by now #so umbral knight and the bird can get me through pretty much everything #maybe i should make an effort and try some other spirits #but since you can't actually upgrade all of them its just kinda ehhh

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 19: The Bloodied

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: In this time and place, as war descends, it all changes.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Big Epic Battle, return of the Razor Crest 💙, violence, blood, passing allusion to post-traumatic stress, ho so much action, and so much lore bullshitting just go with me here.

A/N: The walker described in this isn’t any specific canon version. Somewhere between an AT-AT and an AT-ST let’s say. I dunno, picture whatever you want. Thanks for reading!

--

The room fills for the final muster. 

It’s a scene similar to the first time you’d been in here, but now you’re witnessing it from the other side. Armoured and armed soldiers file into the chamber, an audience gathering before the conflict begins. 

This time though, rather than hiding in the shadows by the forge, you’re among the congregation, seeing the Armourer up front waiting as everyone files in. You stick to the back, find yourself shuffled along a row to stand uneasily by Fennec Shand. She leans a shoulder against yours, a gesture of staunch reassurance.

We got this.

Your eyes move over the backs of many helmets, scanning until you spot him. The man you miss more than you would breathing air must have been first in here. Front and centre, Din stands with his back to you and just a little side on. From your vantage point, you can make out the edges of the familiar heat sig sensor on his helmet’s right side. You can’t see any of the T visor, so he wouldn’t spot you staring at him unless he turned full to the right.

He must know you’re in here though. Whether he cares or not, you have no clue anymore.

Over the many broad shoulders between the two of you, you can’t tell if Grogu is with him.

Still, you whisper a silent entreaty, ‘please let them both be okay…’

Footsteps and shuffling whittle down to silence. Everyone waits. The striking figure at the front of the procession pushes her shoulders back, runs a gaze across the crowd, and speaks. 

‘War is here,’ she says. ‘And we are ready.’

The room fills with the beating of wrists. You and Fennec join in, tapping your comms cuff to your new wrist guard. As the sound fades to quiet again, the honorary battle commander continues.

‘We stand on the frontlines to defend our homelands. Mandalore. Concordia. Every place Mandalorians have come together to build a future. Every place the old, dead empire has tried to take from us.’

You can tell her words are meticulously chosen, because the room swells with an earnest pride and a thrum of determined energy.

‘As the Watch,’ she continues, ‘we’ve nurtured foundlings, raised warriors, and preserved our cultures. We have long held true to the words of the Creed. And it has led us through the dark. Now, we each of us have stood in the Living Waters. By the miracle of liberating Mandalore, we grow brighter. The bonds we forge and the strength we gain from them will continue to lead us.’

‘And it is with this revival that we must learn to reach into new space. We honour the Creed, as it speaks of ourselves and our past.’

She reaches behind her and once again draws out that familiar device. The one containing the texts of the Creed, its originals, its translations. The controlling lore of the people collected here. She places it down on her table.

‘Yet we have come to learn that there is more to our ancient Way than we knew. Now we have learned that the Creed goes further. It speaks of our future. And with the royal Clan Kryze guiding us, we have the way forward to meet it.’

The air pulses like a beating heart. The flames of the forge dance across the ocean of beskar. Everyone holds.

‘Bo-Katan Kryze is our leader, and she is also our guide, it is time we followed her on the path to walk both worlds. Each and every world.’

You’re puzzling over what this reverent monologue could possibly mean – what worlds? – when the woman standing before her people does something that beats the breath from your lungs and sends dizzying electric shocks through your body.

The Armourer, the devout and steadfast leader of almost every person in this room, reaches up and – with a soft hiss that echoes over the hushed crowd – lifts her helmet up, and off. An angular face, large eyes and a wide mouth. She nestles the golden mask under an arm and watches.

It remains deathly quiet for a long, agonising stretch. 

Slowly, just one at a time, and then a few, and then everyone in the place is lifting their hands to their own faces. The air is filled with the sounds of unclasping, pressure releasing. Beskar sings against itself as removed helms are cradled and caressed in gauntleted arms.

You look side to side with eyes wide and mouth agape, in crude contrast to the stoic and steady facial expressions of those around you. The unknown features of people you’ve lived and worked with for weeks are still and focused. Like they knew. Like they were prepared.

Then you’re searching. Over the arms raising and heads shaking out hair and sweat, you strain to see it. The helmet you’d held between your own hands and the man behind it. But he’s obscured. Too far away. You’re just not tall enough. Desperate, you raise onto your toes, craning your neck over the crowd.

‘Here,’ Fennec grabs your wrist and drops to a knee. You gawk for a second but she smacks her thigh with the other hand. ‘Up,’ she mouths.

This is ridiculous but you don’t even pause. You accept her boost, grasp her shoulder and let her hoist you up above the heads of the group. Fortunately everyone is distracted, some unspoken rule that no one looks around rippling across the congregation. They all stay focused front and centre, where the Armourer looks at each and every one of her people in turn.

Not at you yet though. From the very back, toppling a little, shaking violently, you sweep your gaze over to the spot you know him to be standing.

And you see it. You see him.

Dark curls. Damp and sticking to the nape of his neck and around his right ear. 

Huh. He has dark, brown hair. The sight slots into the image you’ve tried to hold in your head all this time. The sketch you’d traced out with your hands. 

Din is holding eyes front as well. All you can see of his face is the slight edge of a sharp jawline and nose. The fuzz of a scruffy beard. Hardly enough. Not enough.

Despite yourself, knowing it to be futile, you will him to look around. Look, I’m here, Din. Please, I’m here.

But you have to drop down before the Armourer, or anyone else, spots you. Giddy and a little nauseous. The grip on your forearm tightens as Fennec stands again. She leans in.

‘See what you needed to see?’ she asks.

You just let out the breath you’d been holding, hold up a trembling hand and stare hard at it. Try to steel yourself.

You hadn’t. Not at all.

A long, high-pitched siren cuts into the reverie that had engulfed the room, sweeps across the people who had just taken a step to change forever.

The Armourer speaks, clear voice projecting to every corner of the room, ‘Go, and bring glory to Mandalore.’

The whole room moves as one, helmets going back on and everyone proceeding to their assignments. Perfect, regimented, united.

Fennec Shand claps a hand to your shoulder and peels off, going to her mission, whatever that may be. Jolted back to reality, reminded of your mission, you cast about for Ari Wren, knowing you have to follow her into whatever comes next – no matter what. You spot her helmet first as it lifts up and over her head, spy just a hint of short cropped blonde hair as the mask locks back into place. She sees you too and strides forward.

‘This way,’ she instructs, fully composed like she hadn’t just uprooted her whole identity. ‘Stick with me.’

You let her guide you, all the while still looking back over your shoulder, just trying to get one more glimpse, one more look, just one.

You don’t see him again.

The first phase of the attack is nothing more than a battle of attrition. The enemy throws waves of ground troops at the Mandalorian defences. You stick with Ari Wren, barely holding onto awareness as pure adrenaline and instinct course through your veins and grant you unimaginable speed and strength. 

‘Stay in step,’ she yells. 

Shoulder blades pressed to the hot metal of her jetpack, you move as she moves. Your footwork is doing double-time to keep up with her rapid twists and lunges, the sword and shield seemingly featherlight in her hands. Each time laser fire comes at you, she’s there – shielding and deflecting.

In turn, you incapacitate anyone that gets under her guard. The close quarters lets you take soldier after soldier by surprise, sending them screaming to the ground clutching at ruined limbs.

The two of you make your way across what’s become the battlefield, move through the acrid air and across the ash-soaked scorched earth. Smoke rising all around, you position yourselves in the anticipated trajectory of their ultimate weapon. It hasn’t emerged over the embankment yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

You remain dimly aware of the rest of the battle – cover fire soaring overhead, the other fighters moving in your forward lines, and a pitched dogfight rending the sky above. But for all the chaos that has erupted since the imp forces descended, the world may as well be you and the Mandalorian yanking you out of the path of an oncoming pulse blast.

But then disaster strikes. It’s your fault. A trooper comes at your duo wielding a bayonet-clad phase rifle, the long nasty blade on its barrel glowing red hot with energy. They lay down attack fire on approach and, as Wren deflects each shot, move in to take a swipe with the sharp, searing edge. Your companion bats it to the side. She brings her own sword around fast, but the enemy manages to parry, twisting side-on.

Seeing an opening, you duck under Wren’s extended arm and take aim at a kidney. But she wasn’t expecting it and you’ve moved under her centre of gravity. You stagger each other and the split second of imbalance is enough for your foe to rend a long slice up Wren’s outer thigh, carving a line along the outside edge of her beskar.

She falls to a knee, then slumps back with an agonised cry. The assailant squares up as you stumble to regain balance. Before you can do anything, he’s drawing his rifle up to your face.

‘N--!’ Your cry is cut off by the soldier in front of you jerking sideways, a violent twist as he drops dead to the ground. Behind him, two more troopers are sprinting toward you, weapons drawn. But again, first one then the other jolts as if struck and falls.

Whirling and twisting, scanning the perimeter, your eyes finally look up and you see it. The long barrel of a sniper rifle and the curved sights of the assassin’s helmet peak over the far ridge.

Fennec Shand.

You stare for a moment until Wren barks your name. It pulls you back and you see you’re being surrounded by a rank of attackers, all sporting savage-looking shock batons. Some are already being taken out by Fennec’s pinpoint cover fire. But if you don’t fucking move soon, you and Wren are doomed.

One of the squad lunges in to attack.

Reaching back, the gaffi stick slung across your shoulders swings free and you connect it with the on-comer’s chest plate, the slugged end caving it in and sending him flying backwards. You spin to slice the barbed spear across another’s throat, blood making a crescent streak across the air.

Fennec hits one in the knee and, as he drops, your weapon rises to meet his face. The helmet shatters and your blood roars.

One after another, you never stop rotating. Cries of pain from your weapon and grunts of shock from the impact of a rifle blast work the group circling you down to the ground.

When it’s clear, you look back to Fennec, hoping she can see your nod of acknowledgement through the scope. She raises an arm to you.

Then you fall to Wren’s side, where she’s gripping her wound and cursing in fury.

‘Wren,’ you start, dropping your weapon and trying to assess the damage. ‘Hang on—'

An ear-splitting siren rips the air apart. Its meaning runs your blood cold. The walker is incoming. Wren tugs at your arm, a ‘help me up’ gesture. But you shake your head, lay your own hands over hers at the top of her thigh where blood spurts from the edge of the armour plate. 

‘No, no,’ you urge her back. ‘Don’t move.’

‘Have… to…’ she grits through her helm. But even the small movement she just made causes red to well between your fingers. 

‘Shit!’ you cry. ‘Gods, Wren. Hang on… Help!’ You look around frantically, yell into the deafening chaos of battle. ‘Help!’

Hells, think clearly, would you? You shake yourself and smack your comms. ‘I need help! Wren is down.’

Within moments, two Mandalorians have landed on either side. One, in medic garb, shoves you aside and begins to tend to her leg. They tap the ground to indicate she needs evac and you hear her grunt in abject frustration. Tries to wave them off.

‘No…’ she moans. ‘Need to…’ She tries to sit up but jolts with a cry of agony. She grips a fist tight before shaking herself and slapping her own comms, muttering into her helmet. You can’t hear who she’s talking to – why is she on a different comms channel?

Another siren has you whirling, then craning your neck up, back. A huge mechanised leg raises over the first fortifications only hundreds of feet in front of you, stomps down with a thundering crash.

You cradle your ears. Terror shoots through you. Whipping around, you look for another jetpacked fighter who could get you up there. Someone, anyone. But they wouldn’t know where to place the charges. How to time it. You sense your plan being blown to hell and panic sets in. This is it – that thing is going to wipe you all out.

Another gargantuan limb brings the monster closer and sends a garrison into full retreat. The horrifying sound of the thermal cannons warming up fills your ears with a sickening buzz. There’s no way to stop it. You look up to the heavens with defeat heavy on your chest. 

That’s where you see it. A pinprick at first, but growing larger. The gorgeous old gunship streaks across the sky, threading the needle through cannon fire and laser blasts. In a sharp nosedive, the Razor Crest is on full burn on its approach to you. It turns to make a low bank and passes over your heads. A figure drops from the hold, in a rapid descent to the field of battle not far from you.

Din hits the ground with a forward roll and releases a salvo of his whistling birds into the waiting war troopers. He’s incapacitated them in a matter of seconds as you sprint toward him. Up and fighting any and everything between the two of you, he makes his way to meet you in the middle. You can’t stop yourself from barrelling into him.

He just plants a hand on your waist and pulls you close, ‘Hang on!’ he yells.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to stifle your cry as his jetpack engages and rockets you both upwards, soaring toward the body of the walking terror. Nothing but empty air below and laser fire raining all around, you bury your face into his neck. Through the haze of fear and adrenaline, you feel him pull you tighter.

The underside streaks toward you. He manoeuvres to ascend up the thing’s body but, just as you come level with it, the rockets on Din’s pack cut out. Suspended in the air, weightless for one terrifying moment, a scream begins to bubble up as you anticipate a precipitous drop. 

But Din fires his whipcord ahead, planting its grapple at the top and swinging your bodies into the side of the massive unit. He twists his weight so he lands squarely against the side, shielding you from impact. Dangling together from the façade of the stalking, swaying machine, he nudges at you.

‘Climb!’ he yells, urging you upwards. 

‘Your jetpack!’ you shout back. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve got it, just climb now,’ he pushes. You reach up and grab the whipcord. His free hand helps you along, grabbing your legs and heaving upwards to give you purchase. You don’t know how his shoulder isn’t being torn from its joint, but he seems to be holding on. So you grit your teeth, ignore the cord cutting into your hands, and climb.

You hand over hand with the cord and plant your knees into the vertical surface. Push every shred of fear away and focus on what’s in front. Halfway up you glance back and almost scream again. Hundreds of feet below, the monstrosity steps through more barricades, nearing the centre of the fray. But you also see Din, who’s holding fast, looking up, watching you. You turn around and keep climbing. 

The second you reach the top, the whipcord whizzes back. You’re already scrambling toward the pilot hatch when Din’s voice crackles over your comms piece. ‘Just like you planned – you take the personnel, I’ve got the undercarriage.’ 

Gods, so he had been listening. 

Wind whips your face and the roar around you is deafening, but you get to the hatch and pop a thermal charge into the lock. Crawling back and shielding your head, you wait for the ‘croom ’ then leap forward, grip the edge of the opening, and swing yourself inside. The smoke and noise from the explosion has stunned your cabin buddies. They only manage a short shout of alarm before both find their necks snapping at unhappy angles.

You surge onto the portal, jabbing at controls and resetting target maps. The walker groans under the strain of turning 180, but the cockpit’s sights swing around until the advancing forces come into view. You set the target locking system and throw the lever into full drive before sending a quick blaster shot into the control panel. The guns below the cockpit begin a continuous barrage. You watch for a moment as squadrons scatter and tanks implode.

You back away and make for the hatch. Scrambling up onto topside, you hit comms.

‘Din!’ you cry. ‘We gotta go! Din?’

Instead of a reply, the Mandalorian rockets up over the edge and plants his feet metres from you. He strides forward, holding one hand to his helmet, shouting at R5 to bring in the Crest, and reaching his other arm out to you.

You don’t pause, moving in and resuming your grip on his shoulders. He holds for a second, then you’re fighting panic again as you launch upwards. This time though, you manage to keep your eyes trained down. 

You see the walker, marching back into its own lines, sending explosions into troopers and hovercannons. Then, perfectly timed, the detonators Din planted on the underside go off, buckling the legs and sending it tumbling into the central armoured column.

Good.

Then your vision is obscured and your momentum arrested. You start in alarm before making sense of the scene. The Crest has sailed elegantly into your line of ascent and Din has cut the jetpack, landing you both on the aft entry of the old gunship. It’s a heavy impact and the only reason your knees don’t collapse is the strong hold he has on you. You both stumble back into the hold of the ship.

As soon as you’re steadied, he lets go and makes for the cockpit. You give in to a brief moment of uninvited despair when he looks over his shoulder and barks, ‘C’mon!’ Then you’re following.

You allow yourself little beats to revel in being on the Crest again, but not for too long. The janky locker door that never quite shut all the way. The peeling paint on the ladder. The access panel that always flickered and whirred. Gods, you’d missed it so much. 

As you enter the cockpit, Din is taking his seat and engaging the controls from R5. You spot Grogu tucked in his pod, which is securely strapped into his flight seat. He looks over at you and waves his arms, burbling in excitement.

The seat on the other side, your seat, sits empty.

Your heart aches at the sight.

As if the ship senses it, the Crest groans and lurches nose down for a moment, forcing you forward. As Din rights its moorings, you flop back into the chair.

‘Get strapped in,’ he yells over his shoulder. He punches at the controls and brings the ship around to witness the skirmish taking place in the sky. The cockpit’s windows afford you a view of the aerial battle, so high up you can see the curvature of this moon and the combat below looking like a crawling insect colony. The fighters up here are intercepting and taking down enemy craft on approach, preventing any from breaking through to attack ground forces.

‘Just in time,’ Din says. ‘The Guild has arrived.’

‘Oh shit,’ you say, pulling the straps around and craning your neck out the window. You spot it. A hefty old transport frigate, Leaf Ghogal’s little army of bounty hunters, plugging a descent toward the edge of the fray, getting ready to drop a mess of bloodthirsty fighters right into the thick of it.

But Din seems unfazed. It puzzles you for a second before he flips the cockpit comms on and speaks to someone on the other end.

‘You’re up,’ he says.

‘Copy that, Mando my man,’ comes a reply – a painfully familiar voice. ‘Our frenemies will be taking a one-way jump to buttfuck nowhere in 3- 2- get goin’ hahaha.' 

Still eyeing the transport a ways off, you have a perfect view of it shuddering for a moment – the hyperdrive straining in the high atmosphere. With a massive shockwave, it shooms into nothingness. The energy fallout from its rapid departure collects the edge of a soaring tiefighter, taking its portside wing and sending it careening to the ground. 

‘Woo! Two fer one!’ The disembodied voice hollers and it hits you. 

‘Wha— Torre? ’ you sputter.

‘Hey dove,’ Torre’s voice echoes around the cockpit. ‘You made it.’

‘What are y-- what is-- what?’ 

‘Making up for my bullshit, hon,’ he says. ‘Or a little of it, at least.’

Din interrupts, like you aren’t in a full tailspin over this little fucking alliance going on right now.

‘Another mercenary outfit inbound,’ he says.

‘On it,’ Torre chirps, the clacking of keys being hit in rapid succession accompanying the transmission. 

You start to say ‘where?’ but Din just points. Another transport carrier trundles just behind where Leaf’s ship was. Your eyes track it as the Crest banks across the range. Huge, fit to carry upwards of two hundred combatants. Worlds, you think. If they land it’ll be a bloodbath.

But Torre’s counting down again and the boat – blip – bends out of existence. Just like that. 

‘That’s cleared,’ Din says.

‘Roger, roger,’ Torre responds.

This is too surreal. ‘Torre,’ you shout. ‘ What-- why are you doing this?’

A long sigh slips from the speakers.

‘Your Mando came and got me,’ he tells you over the comms. ‘Told me about how that fucker Cephlate used me. And how he got to you. Fuck. For that, and for the rest… Well, ‘m sorry.’

A beat of quiet as you absorb that. Then the Crest chimes in with its alert system, alarms blaring around you.

‘And speaking of the Devil,’ Torre says. ‘His craft is inbound.’

‘What?’ you yelp. ‘Cephlate is here?’ 

‘Indeed,’ Torre answers you. ‘Got his private little army in on this shitshow.’

Ice slides up and down your spine and sends cold shards to your extremities. The freeze of a carbonite unit crawls over your skin. Him. Your side aches right where your scar has steadily faded away. But it now throbs as if fresh. Your face, where he’d held onto your chin and threatened you, burns.

The only thing stopping you from succumbing to wild panic is the T visor that’s swung round to stare at you.

‘He’s not gonna touch you,’ Din snarls low. ‘Ever again.’

You lean into your chair, breathing deep into your belly as he turns back to the ship’s controls.

‘What can you do about it?’ Din asks.

‘Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve tried hacking in but he knows my tricks. All I can give you is something to aim for.’

A string of data rolls across the Crest’s targeting system, forms into a ship holo. An ugly, heavy-duty gunner-craft. Cannons and railguns weigh the beastly thing down. The holo rotates to reveal a glowing patch on the underside. Small and tucked against the exhaust latchings. You lean forward to get a good look at it. 

‘The stitch that will unravel his shields,’ Torre explains. ‘Aim for that. And he’ll be done.’

‘Okay,’ Din says. ‘I think you’re good then.’

‘Copy that.’

‘You gonna cause trouble?’

Torre’s chuckle rumbles over the speakers. ‘No worries there,’ he says. ‘Old mate Greef here hasn’t taken his pistol’s sights off me for a single second.’

‘I’ve got him, Mando,’ the high magistrate’s voice follows on. ‘We’ll take him back when the fight is over, won’t we IG?’

‘Bye then, dove,’ Torre’s voice sinks into you. ‘I’ll always be sorry.’

The transmission cuts.

Distracted by the insanity of what just happened, you miss Din’s question. He’s fiddling with settings on the HUD and, at your silence, looks back.

‘Huh?’ you ask.

‘I can’t aim for something like that and fly at the same time,’ he says. ‘So which do you want to do?’

‘Which do I--?’ You notice for the first time an addition to the instrument bank next to the flight chair you’re buckled into. A set of ship controls, twins to the ones Din’s got a hard grip on up front. Protruding just within reach. 

‘Had to get another ship mechanic to help install it, ‘m sorry,’ he says, watching you. ‘It was fiddly. The Crest did not want to cooperate. But we did it.’

‘Wh--,' you’re speechless. You reach over and they glide easily outward so you can orient them in front of you. Giving each an experimental twist, you feel the hefty tilt and take in the trigger buttons just by where your forefingers rest. ‘Oh wow… Din. But- I can’t--’

‘You can,’ he says. ‘I know it.’

Aware you can’t waste time on doubt, you heave a deep sigh. Looking at the ship holo, at the tiny opening Torre’s given you, your fingers hover over the triggers. Something inside you makes the choice. 

‘Aim,’ you say. ‘I’ll aim.’

Nodding, he spins back around and flips a switch. The controls under your palms hum with energy and a HUD blinks in front of you. The Crest shudders as its weapons system primes itself.

Hells, how are you going to fucking do this.

‘I’ll draw him onto us, tell me when you’re ready and I’ll give you an opening,’ he says. Without further ado, he pulls his own controls back and the Razor Crest soars. 

How are you going to do this.

The Mandalorian pilots his ship through a mess of crossfire and the occasional spacecraft trailing smoke and plummeting to the earth. The menacing looking ship of the outer-rim warlord comes into view and Din positions the Crest right in front of it, racing ahead and catching the enemy crew’s attention. Pulls serpentine manoeuvrers to dodge the laser fire that begins a bombardment.

How are you—

Static crackles over the comms and the sickly, savage voice of the figure you’ve had nightmares about fills the space. Delighted, arrogant and bloodthirsty. Cephlate waxes lyrical about finally having the opportunity to ‘destroy you Mando, and all you hold dear’.

But you’re barely taking it in, fixated on the targeting system and trying to fathom how you’re going to do this.  

How, how, how—

Spiralling thoughts are interrupted by a feather-soft tendril of energy nudging at the edge of your mind. It swirls against your consciousness and seems to await permission. 

You look over at Grogu, whose eyes are shut tight and hands twitch with power. The sense of connection within you grows brighter, promises aid. Begs entry.

‘Ready?’ Din calls.

‘We have this,’ you shout. Looking at the child, you let him and the Force flood your mind, whip through your senses and snake into your arms and hands, held firm on the controls. They hum harder, some awareness deep in the bowels of the ship slips into you, a quiet there you are, where have you been? You set your shoulders and shout, ‘Now!’

Din hurls a lever back and reefs on the controls. The Crest drops into a free fall. The rear thrusters cut and tip the boat so you’re looking up into the sky. Laser fire passes overhead as does Cephlate’s ship. The glint in the underside, the break in the shield, is plain as day to your heightened senses.

You, Grogu and the Crest lock onto it and your fingers move of their own volition, releasing a single pulse that streaks ahead. Where it hits home, exactly on target, a burst of crackling, festy grey energy widens from the spot, shimmering over the whole ship. The entire shield system drops away in a few heartbeats.

‘No!’ the warlord bellows. ‘You--!'

Din smacks the comms to another channel over the top of his cries. ‘Move in,’ he commands whoever’s on the other side. To you, ‘Keep firing!’

You’re already setting up to unleash an angry broadside along the bottom of the vessel. He hauls the thrusters back on and gives you a perfect bank for the barrage to take out its engine array. When the Crest clears the front of the ship, it wheels around and you can take aim at the top-mounted cannons.

You see several other Mandalorian jets and fighters move in weapons free, your little T-Wing among them. It and the rest send explosions to impact on all sides of the vessel. Your ship makes another turn and you get to pass again – feeling feral, you zero in on the bridge and send the bow of the ship up in flames.  

It’s not long before the monstrous dirigible is listing, tilting away from the centre of the fight, toward the chordal coast where the imps’ forward party had been encamped. It disappears over the rim of the small mountain range bisecting the landscape. Moments later, a spectacular explosion reaches toward the skies.

You watch it as the Crest’s trajectory evens out, sails across the cleared air. You scan the radar, friendly craft soar around you. 

Only the roar of wind and the groan of the ship fill the cockpit. You loosen your grip just slightly on the controls as a wide grin spreads across your face. You glance up at Din, seeing his shoulders steadily drop as he relaxes. You laugh.

‘Well that, felt incredible,’ you say. He starts to turn toward you.

A burst of static covers what he says back. A boisterous voice thunders over the speakers, declaring glorious victory and the imp forces scattering like baby womp rats, the jet-packed Mandalorians running them down with ease.

You listen, fidgeting a little as a weird pang starts to bother your side. 

The comms cuts to reports of mopping up but Din turns it to low, moving dials and flipping the landing gear into standby.

You keep your hands on the gunner grips in case any last-minute moves are needed, but try to sit up a little straighter to stretch out the tightness that is drawing your abdomen into a knot. The tension of the fight setting in, maybe?

Din leans back. ‘Guess we can head in,’ he says, moving to turn to you again. Your heart beats harder, damn near straining against your chest. ‘And maybe we can t—’

‘Ebbe!’

The tiny, panicked shriek from Grogu causes you both to whip around to him. Your concern twists your guts. A strange nervous vibration is working its way up your spine, into your skull and clouding your vision. Your mouth is filling with icy shards and your ears start ringing. 

‘Grogu?’ you say. ‘Baby, wha—’

‘No!’ Din surges from his chair.

‘Is he okay?’

‘Oh Gods, no, no, no!’

That’s when you realise that he’s not lunging at Grogu but toward you. And Grogu is fine, but he’s pointing to your middle with fear-filled eyes.

Din kneels before you and chants your name. ‘Hang on. Please just, hang on, love. Stay, stay with me, hey! Stay with me!’ His confusing demands grow fuzzy and further away as he talks.

You finally look down. The haze and hot tendrils clawing at your eyes make it hard to see, but that’s definitely something sticking out of your stomach. You move a hand to it. It’s hot, and vibrating with a quiet menace. Your fingers come away bloodied. ‘Ohhhh wha…’ You fade out.

--

Prev | Next

Forgive me.

Thank you so much for reading this weird little story.

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

[spicyraeman]

Well interacting with you makes my week too! **aggressive friendly fist bump**

I hope your holidays are going well 😁

Wolfheart is ending me. Can I pet that dawg? CAN I PET THAT DAWG? (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZGeN9U7kG/)

I love seeing the hairy SH art! PCOS / trans / wolf girlie, I stan all versions I see. We're not cowards here! The new band drawings are fire, still making my heartrate go jglcbxlw. And seeing the growth? Honestly it's magic to me, I think it's perfect then it becomes even more perfect and I'm just how?? How possible?

Veteran'zel, Baby'zel, Beam'zel, Horny'zel, Rat'zel, all I do is love'zel! The cheetah/dog doodle + wet rat'zel made me hiccup from laughter, we were blessed.

Buddy, Karlach's got her tail docked like the gith children, that's why! See, problem fixed **insert Flex Tape meme**

Also for Lae'zel's accent : yes, she would have such a harsh accent! As a foreign speaker, the pronunciation isn't always intuitive and is sometimes paradoxal. She probably never used some sounds, and it's hard to guess a lot of them. It's so inconsistent. I lack air in the middle of my sentences because of the tonal accentuations differences. Languages are crazy man. Lae'zel would have a stroke, struggling to say "library" with Gale correcting her.

I've been upgraded to bestie? Careful, I feel like the most specialest goblin in town now 😎

I also wanted to share with you my recent victory : I passed my exams with unexpectedly high grades! It's been 10 years since I succeeded in anything school related, I feel strangely proud and hopeful. I attribute this partly to the intense hyperfixation for BG3. I can come back to this fandom and get comfort when I feel burned out and in need of motivation. Thank you for being part of it and sharing your blorbos with us. Good soup for our cold starving souls. So yeah, you and your art matter even if you find it bleh sometimes and you doubt yourself.

I wanted to be brief but I'm incapable of shortening shit even if my life depended on it. Violently dumping my brain in your ask like I'm late on garbage collecting day. Sorry not sorry for the awkward emotional stuff. Take care of yourself, bestie ✌️

🫀🚑

Sry for answering these “backwards”, I just needed to get the conlang stuff out first before all my good braincells shut down lol

hope the holidays are going well on your end as well :]

To pet a werewolf truly is the dream isn’t it, wereshart is prob my fav hc for her it just fits so well. I've been trying really hard lately to figure out how to draw her recently bc despite the art disparity her and lae’zel are neck in neck at being my fav characters. Seeing the growth in the bass drawing really gave me that boost of confidence that I'm at least slightly getting there lol

I truly do love Lae’zel in every form, but wet rat’zel rotates in my mind more than it should, sadly its not a hc I could ever commit to considering I can’t even remember Karlach’s canon tail lmaoo I really should just hc that karlach got her tail docked at this point, that or I need to make a checklist for her so I can go through and make sure ive got all her bits when I draw her

Also Ive already posted my big rambling mess about Gith accents but yeah harsh accent lae'zel best lae'zel, it just makes sense

But yoooo big gratz on the exams! Def something to be proud of!! I can agree this fandom really is a huge motivator, I haven’t had this much drive to do anything I've been doing recently in years. Glad I could help provide a lil comfort spot full of blorbo soup for the soul lol

Dw about shortening shit as you’ve prob seen i’m prone to rambling and also every emotion I experience is awkward so that's just par for the course here.

Hope life treats you well till the next ask, peace ✌️

#asks #again sry for answering backward #I just got sucked back into the conlang fixation

[heckinconfusedparade]

Tails Goes To Sonic X

When Tails was going over the possible outcomes of upgrading his portal gun, travelling to a whole other universe was NOT amongst those possibilities. But of course, fate had different plans for this little fox.

Tails now finds himself in the middle of a busy intersection of a city, cars honking at him from every angle. He hears anger, and he swears he hears his name being called. He flies up to the top of a building to get a better look at his surroundings, checking his M.E. to figure out where he has ended up.

“Well.. that’s not good.” The coordinates he’s picking up are not of the world he’s from. As if things couldn’t get worse, his gun has a fried piece.

Tails was so focused on trying to figure out his location that he didn’t notice someone behind him.

“Tails is that you? Weren’t you just at Chris’ house?” Tails turns around and finds Sonic. He breathes a sigh of relief and is about to run to his brother when he realizes that something isn’t right. His Sonic has blue arms. This one doesn’t. “..you’re not Sonic.” The faker looks confused “Tails, buddy, are you feeling ok? Let’s go back to the house.” Sonic approaches Tails who backs up. That’s not his brother.

Tails pulls his ray gun out of his backpack and zaps something nearby to distract Sonic before flying away.

He hides in an abandoned building. With his heart pounding he digs out the phone he made from out of his backpack. No service.

Tails presses his back against a wall and slides down it, trying to collect his breathing. He clutches one of his tails as he tries to calm himself down.

“Sonic, are you sure about this? There can’t be another me.” “I know what I saw. I also know you can’t have traveled to the top of that building faster than I could have.” Tails peaks his head to see out the window. He spots fake Sonic and what appears to be another version of him scouting the area. Sonic suddenly looks at him, prompting him to duck back down and hope he wasn’t seen.

Hiding from someone who can easily outrun you at a steady jog who is actively trying to find you is terrifying.

When he opens his eyes, he shrieks. Sonic is standing right in front of him. Sonic jumps at the sudden shriek. Other Tails has come to find them. Sonic tries to calm the other smaller Tails “it’s ok buddy, I won’t hurt ya.. I’m sorry for scaring you.” Sonic crouches down to the curled up terrified fox. Other Tails approaches “but… you’re me? How?” “Maybe he’s like us. Chaos control brought him to a whole new world.. and it must be far if it’s an alternate version of you.”

It takes some coaxing, but the two manage to get Tails back to the Thorndyke mansion. Ella has already brought the little guy some water. Chris is very curious. He’s asking so many questions.

Cream, Cheese, and Ella return to the livingroom with a tray of cookies. “Other Mr. Tails, Ella just baked some cookies! Do you want some?” Tails sniffs the air. Oh god. Mint chocolate chip. His weakness. Immediately he and his counterpart are consuming the goods. Tails looks up at Ella with stars in his eyes “may I please have the recipe? These are delicious! I need to tell my mom!” Pause hold up.

Other Tails tilts his head. Ella clasps her hands together “of course dear, I’ll be right back!”

“You.. have a mom?” Other Tails asks, shocked to learn that other him is already so much different from him. “Mhm! I also have a dad!” Tails has diagnosed other him with a critical case of fatherless. It’s terminal. “Got anything else?” Sonic asks, now curious, “I have two big brothers! My Sonic and Knuckle are the best! We also have a dog named Ozzy-“ “hold on. Sonic being your brother I get. But Knuckles?” Amy points out, and the others agree. Tails is confused “what do you mean?” “Knuckles can be a bit of a loner. I don’t see him often.” Chris exclaims. “…uh. Where else.. would he go? I mean we have the master emerald.. all 3 of us swore to protect it with a fist bump.. and I don’t think Sonic would’ve let him go back to being alone.” Mutters of agreement are heard across the room.

- - - Meanwhile

Sonic and Knuckles have been searching for 2 hours now. How could Tails have just vanished? It’s super unlike him.

Until they finally visit his workshop. They find blueprints to a portal gun, and upon checking his computer, the most recent portal went to a world that’s undocumented.

“Well… that’s not good.. Knuckles, help me look around. There must be a prototype somewhere.” Sonic and Knuckles check everywhere until they find a gun matching the blueprint. After some fiddling, they manage to get the portal to go where they want it to.

That intersection faces its second disturbance of the day. Someone says “look it’s Sonic and Knuckles!” And just like that, people are flocking to the brothers. The two shrink back to one another. Sonic feels himself beginning to tense. Knuckles grabs him and leaps over the crowd. They run into an alleyway and hide. Sonic calms down, the blue crackles of electricity disappearing. “Sonic are you alright?” “Yea. Yea I’m fine.. let’s go find Tails.”

After some wandering, Knuckles picks something up. He senses a chaos emerald nearby. As they’re heading in that direction, they’re stopped by.. another Knuckles. Who sensed a new chaos.

Stand-off.

Other knuckles gets in fighting position, “Eggmans really desperate now, isn’t he?” The other two look at each other confused. “SAY SOMETHING. You two. Eggman made you.” Now they’re even more confused.

“You’ve got it all wrong! We weren’t created by that creep! Look, we’re just trying to find our Tails. I don’t want to fight you.” Sonic backs up a little, speaking in a calm voice, careful not to set off Knuckles any more. Smaller Knuckles starts “I sensed a chaos emerald nearby. My theory is that he went there.”

Other Knuckles growls “give me one reason to believe you!” Sonic shoes the little portal gun. The little screen says they’re in an undocumented area, and the size and style of the thing was clearly made made by Tails. Knuckles settles “I’ll choose to believe you.. for now.” Sonic sighs in relief.

Knuckle leads the two littles to the mansion so they can speak to his Tails and possibly get a birds eye view on the city.

Mr. Tanaka answers the door “oh! Mr. Knuckles, we weren’t expecting you! Come in.. I assume these other two are related to our visitor.” “He’s here??” “Yes, Sonic and Tails brought him here. I’ll bring you to them.”

Tanaka leads the 3 to Chucks lab where he, Tails, and other Tails are investigating his gun. “Amazing! Truly amazing technology, young man!” Chuck beams. Tails blushes “awe.. thanks!”

“Tails!” Both Tails look in the direction of the voice. Sonic and Knuckles look extremely relieved to see their little brother safe. Tails rushes into their arms for a group hug.

“Tails, you are safe! We are thankful.” Knuckles ruffles the little foxes fur. “I missed you guys!” Tails releases his brothers to look at them. Sonic crosses his arms “we missed you two.” then he crouches to Tails’ height and places his hands on his shoulder “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING????!! YOU RAN OFF WITHOUT A WORD AND IT SCARED THE CRAP OUTTA US. WHAT IF YOU GOT LOST?? WHAT IF YOU DIED?? YOU HAD US WORRIED SICK, LITTLE MAN! You’re so, SOOOOO lucky that it was us who knew you were missing. If mom and dad found out, we’d all be dead! I’m glad you’re ok, but for the love of god, please think a little harder next time.” Sonics sudden outburst shocks everyone. Him lashing out is incredibly rare, and unheard of in this universe. Even other Sonic is shook.

Tails whimpers and looks down. He starts to cry a little bit. Sonic hugs him tightly and lifts him into his arms “no.. don’t cry.. Im sorry I yelled..” “I-I’m sorry for running off..” “hey, hey it’s ok. We aren’t mad. We were just very worried.” Knuckles pats the little kits head, trying to help calm him. He’s never been good at comfort.

Soon, all is calm, and the room is once again filled with conversation. Chuck and the two Tails’ finish the repairs.

Everyone says goodbye and everyone heads home, the end.

Mom and Dad did find out.

If you guys want specific prompts, please let me know. This was getting too long and I’m terrible at writing stories.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic 2 #sonic the hedghog movie #miles tails prower #tails the fox #movie tails #sonic #knuckles the echidna #movie sonic #movie knuckles #sonic x #amy the hedgehog #amy rose #cream the bunny #chris thorndyke

[tardytothesimspardy]

Birthday!

The work has paid off

Betty continues her trend of waking up hours before her parents, but she can't possibly stay in the house while she waits for them to get up, so instead she wanders around Brindleton Bay in the morning hours, listening to people starting their day.

Today she wandered out to the docks to play chess.

She got bored pretty quickly, though, which led her to notice a kitty cat by one of the crates, and she really wanted to pet it.

The kitty cat, it turned out, really did not want to be pet.

Betty tried to calm it down a little by playing with it (which probably would have the opposite effect but she's a child that wants to pet a cat so I won't hold it against her), and that seemed to work.

After that, she headed back home to continue her day as normal, with a wish that she can see that kitty cat again soon.

That evening, a birthday party was thrown for Vadim, because it was his birthday. Who woulda thunk.

The party went pretty well, except the caterer refused to fully complete most of the dishes he started, so there were cutting boards and bowls all over the place. He definitely wasn't worth the money spent. At a certain point, he and a guest totally left the party to go woohoo on Fatima and Vadim's bed, so I'm starting to think that this was actually an act of revenge against Vadim, for what he did to them previously.

Fatima had a glass of wine nectar in her hand the entire time, but I'm not sure if she was just holding one glass, or if she was having several. There were a lot of Sims crammed into the kitchen, so it was hard to tell.

Then for some reason the bartender (who was also barely doing his job) started yelling at Fatima? I don't know what was going on.

As the party was cooling down, Betty and Vadim got to actually talk to each other, which they hadn't with all the kerfuffle. She got to ask insightful questions, such as "is the moon real" and "can i pretty please get a kitty cat please", to which Vadim responded "yes", and "you'll have to ask your mother about that".

That kept her in pretty high spirits. It wasn't a no, but talking about it to her mom would be tough.

As Betty was attempting to achieve her dreams, Vadim had finally achieved his: he had finally built and upgraded the rocket ship enough to allow him to traverse the stars! And so without a further delay, he blasted off to the mysterious planet of Sixam.

The entirety of his visit to Sixam was dedicated to collecting, researching, and analyzing. He was going to grab everything and put all of it under a microscope. He didn't even notice that there were other Sims wandering around, with how busy he was.

The other people at the lab won't believe the stuff he found! (They will; that's part of the job)

Finally, after several hours of (very slowly, this man does not run) gathering and documenting, he walked through the portal back home, and quite nearly collapsed with how tired he was.

The second he woke in the morning, he woke Fatima to start talking about all the things he saw and collected. Fatima, who was incredibly groggy, did her best to just smile and nod, while trying to stifle the yawns that kept coming every five minutes.

She was excited for him, but she honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

Betty had exciting news of her own, but she was a little hesitant to share it: she had come across the kitty cat she met earlier, in their backyard! This is a sign, clearly, that she should be able to keep the kitty cat and pet him forever, right?

She asked Vadim once again if she could get a kitty cat, and no one has to worry about what kind to get or whatever, because she had found one herself!, and Vadim once again said that she would have to talk to her mother about it, because getting a pet is a big responsibility.

Personally, it's hard to tell if Fatima would be okay with a cat, because she likes things being neat and tidy, and some cats really are not neat and tidy, and a lot of the time, it's hard to find that out before making the commitment of including an entire new living creature into your household.

#i was excited to see sixam so that i could finish some collections #because who am i if not someone who collects collections #ts4 #the sims 4 #simblr #the sims 4 gameplay #the sims 4 screenshots #the sims 4 legacy #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #the simovitchs #the brokes #images have alt text

[phantomrose96]

Old Wounds

Danny’s secret is not a secret anymore.

The lines between Fenton and Phantom have long since blurred. And it’s a common occurrence for news reporters to trip over their tongue when flagging him down, mid-transformation, for a post-fight interview. “Phanton.” “Fentom.” So often that, to most now, he is just Danny.

When Danny wants upgrades to his gear, he comes to his mother. When Danny learns a quirky new element of Ghost Zone lore, he brings it to his father. When the Amity Park Ghost Alarm is raised, he’s first on the scene with the Fenton RV right on his non-corporeal heels.

When he’s injured, Danny comes only to his friends and sister.

Jazz notices the pattern. How it is only her, or only Sam, or only Tucker who receives the late-night knock at the window glass, with her brother on the other side, corny sheepish smile on display and arm or leg or shoulder held up in explanation.

Jazz notices how hushed Danny remains, day or night, when he comes to her for first aid. How he speaks in that same hesitant muted tone as he did when all of this was still a secret. How he quiets himself in the way injured prey animals do.

Jazz doesn’t feel it’s her place to ask. Not yet, at least. Eventually. But not yet.

The window is open. Honeysuckle-sweet gusts of late-spring air swirl through Jazz’s room and tease away the sheen of sweat that has collected on her brow. She cannot wipe it away herself, not with both hands meticulously occupied in tweezering out the singed fabric from her brother’s arm.

Danny winces, and hisses, and Jazz frees another thread from its embedded hold in Danny’s burn wound.

“It’s kind of like… summer vacation when we were kids and we’d get splinters visiting Aunt Alicia’s lake house,” Jazz remarks with another careful tug. “…If we can call it a lake house.”

“Lake shed,” Danny replies, grinning through the sweat shining on his pale face. “And I think every part of that dock was an OSHA violation.” He laughs through another wince.

“Dad was the king of tweezers. I think he got out every splinter that dock ever gave me.” Jazz pauses. “I wonder why that was. Think it’s the needlepoint?”

“It’s definitely the needlepoint,” Danny agrees.

Jazz hesitates on the question lingering behind her tongue. Just a little too long. Just a little too obviously.

“What?” Danny asks.

Jazz’s hand falters. She puts the tweezers down. “Danny, I will always always be happy to help you like this. Same goes for Sam, same goes for Tucker, I know. I’m positive. But I wonder why… not Mom or Dad?” Jazz eyes the tweezers, glinting in the moonlight. “I’m just… I’m thinking how much cleaner this might be if you got Dad to do it. And Mom’s got like, wilderness survival level first aid expertise. I can’t help thinking I’m hurting you more by it being… me, you know?”

Danny looks at her, and looks past her a moment. His grin slips a fraction into discomfort as his eyes leave hers. “Maybe I just like the excuse to invade your room.”

“Danny…” Jazz waits until he looks at her again. “Are you afraid they’ll make you stop if they realize you’re getting injured?”

Danny lets out a puff of air from behind his lips. “No, never. I mean, maybe if I got really really injured they’d say something. But just getting a little roughed up? I think it’s about on par with a kid coming home from football practice with a few scrapes, at least, in their eyes. They get more banged up than me these days. I’m not worried.”

Jazz reaches for the bottle of disinfectant. She unscrews the cap to a biting alcohol smell. “…So will you tell me why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you won’t ever go to them with injuries? Ever?”

Cotton swab, pure silver under the moonlight. Jazz douses it gently, a muted glug-glug from the bottle.

“…I’m that obvious about it, huh?”

“You’re obvious about most things. This’ll be cold.” Jazz applies the swab to the open wound, and Danny hisses in turn.

“Yeah. Cold. And stingy. Cold and stingy.” After a few seconds, the tension eases out of Danny’s body. He droops a little, shoulders slumped, and Jazz pulls the cotton swab away.

“Are you ashamed of your injuries?”

“No.”

“Are you worried Mom and Dad’ll make them worse?”

“Nah. You said it yourself, those two are weird, unconventional medical experts.”

“Then why not?”

A beat of silence follows. A moment of trepidation. Awash in moonlight, Danny looks up at her, and the glow in his green eyes has a life of its own. “I don’t want them to see the injuries that have already healed.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Jazz looks again. Danny’s suit covers most everything, save now for the one sleeve that’s been rolled back. She sees what she already knew was there – what isn’t obvious to the eye not searching – threads of white ridges, puckers of skin, a faded rashy texture of what had once been an ectoblast burn. Old injuries. Long healed. Faded and fading further. “Those are all healed now. Just some scars, right…?”

Danny hesitates.

“I don’t want them to figure out how many of those scars they caused.”

A gust of wind steals the antiseptic smell from the room. Jazz sits with the silence. She thinks, and she processes.

“Oh…”

Danny straightens. “They kind of… live in this world where hunting ghosts is all fun and games, you know? Like it’s a sport, like they can just get into go-mode and jump into the fun. I don’t think they’ve figured out yet that they can—could—did …cause damage.”

Danny adjusts himself on Jazz’s bed, one leg pulled up, body angled to face her directly. He doesn’t let his eye contact wander now. “They both apologized. Definitely. Like that definitely happened, back at the start of this. But it was kind of like ‘We must’ve given you so much trouble Danny! How’d you come home every day and not bite our heads off over that?’ Like. Again. Like it’s a game. Like they’d been knocking my chess pieces over for a year and not—”

Danny falters. He raises his uninjured arm and tucks the hair away from his face. “And I don’t… want it to click for them. What I have right now with Mom and Dad is so nice… It’s so much better than I even imagined. I want it to stay like this. Forever, if possible.”

“Danny…”

“And even that actually—maybe I’m actually wrong about that. Completely wrong. About their reaction, I mean. It’s possible maybe they’d see everything and just go,” Danny deepens his voice, “‘Wow! We did a number on you, huh? Man Danny I don’t know how you didn’t just smack us over the breakfast table every morning.’ you know? Like that. Like this was all just always a game. And they—and I-- …I like how relaxed ghost hunting is with them. I actually like that it feels like a game. I don’t ever want to go back to feeling how scared and afraid and unsafe and hurt I was that first year. ...But I’m afraid of how it would feel to know that maybe they’d see that, look at it all, everything they did and the scars like the actual proof and it—if it wouldn't ever be real to them. If they'd never get that it was like that. If they still wouldn’t realize—you know? That they—if they—I don’t uh…” Danny drops his eyes, and he shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know how to explain it…”

“No I—Danny I know what you’re saying. Don’t worry. Danny, I—”

“Either answer. Any answer. I don’t want to know… I don’t actually want to know.” Danny angles himself away again, feet dropped over the side of Jazz’s bed, staring down at the hands in his lap. “If it would horrify them, then I’d be ruining all the good things I have with them right now. And if it wouldn’t horrify them—” Danny falls quiet. The breeze has stilled. The room is colder now. “…then I think I just don’t ever want to know.”

Jazz nods, and nods harder.

“I get it. I get it. That’s a good enough answer for me, Danny, I promise. I’m your first aid person, okay? I won’t ask again. Thanks for… thanks for telling me, Danny.”

"Can always trust you to bring up the difficult conversations huh? Of course that's always been your thing. Talking to you is--well I'd say it's like pulling teeth, but maybe it's more like pulling ecto-demolished hazmat suit fabric out of a burn wound."

Danny offers a sheepish grin - it's an olive branch, a request to lighten the mood. Jazz meets it with her own small grin that does not touch her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I'm your older sister. It's my job to be a pain. Now sit still, I need to be more of a pain if we're gonna de-hazmat suit your injury."

She picks the tweezers back up. The silence rings with an echo in her head now. Jazz focuses her attention back on her task, and she finds something she was wrong about before:

There is nothing faded about the scars that web up and down her little brother’s arm. They are stark streaks of lightning, glowing silver under the moonlight. And Jazz wonders how many others—how many that flaked away and melded back with healthy skin—how many of those might still be living, lingering, a permanent part of her little brother, buried well beneath the surface…

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #long post #wanted to write A Thing so here is A Thing!

[pennylanefics]

Protective - Isaac Lahey

a/n: i finally wrote something!! though i’m not entirely happy with how this turned out :/ i’ve been dealing with writers block and i spent the entire week trying to write this, and still don’t like it that much 🤷🏼‍♀️

•••

Months after the pack got rid of one threat to Beacon Hills, another one came along as if it was the new normal. You found out a few days after the pack found out, mainly because you don’t really like being involved with everything.

Scott stopped you during school one day and told you everything you needed to know. Who they attacked, how they attacked, where in Beacon Hills was dangerous at the moment, and to reach out to him or anyone else if anything happened.

You were doing fine for the time being, but there was one person worried about you. Isaac has had a crush on you since you met at his first lacrosse game sophomore year. He just never acted on it, and kept you around as a friend.

But when there was an attack by the creature on your street, he knew he had to do something to protect you.

A couple nights after the attack, you were fast asleep in your room, having passed out earlier than usual after finishing loads of homework. Isaac had snuck out of Scott’s house and made his way to yours. Since he didn’t want to disturb your parents, he climbed through your window, which was unlocked.

“Oh, you’re going to be in trouble for not locking this,” he mumbles to himself. He makes it inside with ease and breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that you’re still fast asleep.

He closes and locks the window, kicking his shoes off and taking a seat in the chair across from your bed. His eyes linger on your figure, roaming from your hair splayed across the pillow, to your eyelashes against your cheek.

A smile spreads across his face as he takes you in. He’s never been so in love with someone and the idea that the creature could have come into your house a few nights ago instead of the one down the street terrified him.

Isaac stayed awake for about an hour, reading a book from your collection that you’ve told him about before. When he felt his eyes starting to droop, he marked the page with a bookmark and set it down on your desk. Curling up in the chair, he falls asleep right away.

The following morning, you wake up at around eight in the morning. As you sit up, a small scream escapes your throat upon seeing your friend sitting in your room. This awakes him, making him jump out of the chair, falling to the floor.

“Isaac? How the hell did you get in here?” He stands, fixing his shirt that got twisted from sleeping.

“You,” he starts, walking over to you, “left your window unlocked.” His finger taps your nose teasingly, making you scrunch it.

“I had it open because it was raining earlier and I enjoy the sound and smell of it.” He chuckles and hugs you tightly, resting his head on yours.

“Now the important question: what are you doing here?” You say, pulling back from his body but staying in his arms. His expression falters a little and he lets go of you to take a seat on your bed.

“A couple nights ago, the creatures that are currently here attacked someone in their own home, a few houses down from yours,” he whispers, afraid to tell you that part. You feel a shiver run through your body upon hearing that, and you sit down to let it sink in.

“Well,” you murmur, speechless and a little scared now.

“It’ll be okay. Scott and Derek think they have an idea of who this person is, why they’re here, and why they’re only targeting non supernaturals.”

“So, I’m not even safe in my own home?” Your voice comes out as soft as ever, your mind racing with every worst case scenario possible.

“If you want, uh, I mean, you don’t have to, I can either stay here with you until they’re gone, or you can stay with Scott and I,” he offers.

“I couldn’t stay with you guys, that’s too much, I wouldn’t want to intrude. And what about my parents?”

“So then, I could stay with you guys every other day? Again, you don’t have to agree, it’s an offer I’m willing to make, if it’d make you feel safer?”

You think for a moment before looking over at Isaac with a small grin on your lips. He matches your expression.

“I’d like that,” you respond. “You can stay here whenever you want.”

“What about every night?” He pushes. A giggle escapes your throat and you lean against him.

“Of course.” There’s a pause in the conversation as Isaac fights with his mind on whether to admit his feelings now or not.

“Um, since we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, there’s something I want to tell you,” he starts.

“Okay,” you respond, pushing him to continue.

“I’ve had a small, well, maybe not so small, crush on you since we first met. There’s something about you that just captivates me, and I think you’re incredible.”

He goes on about what he likes about you, what qualities he particularly finds attractive, everything, and by the end of his little speech, your smile is so wide, your cheeks start to hurt.

“How come you’ve never said anything?” You wonder. Isaac blushes and turns forward.

“I just never did anything about it. And Lydia told me that you were interested in someone else at the time, so I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“Yeah, that person turned out to be a huge asshole, so it’s an upgrade from them to you.”

“You like me too?” His head whips up back to you.

“Uh huh. I thought it was obvious.”

“It wasn’t,” he chuckles. You smile and lean your head against his shoulder.

“We can’t tell my parents, though. They’ll flip if they find out you’re staying here, in my room.”

“They don’t like you having boys in your room?” He teases. You shove his shoulder playfully.

“Friends, they don’t mind. Like Scott and Stiles are fine. But you? They know I have a crush on you, so if I tell them you’re sleeping here every night, it won’t turn out well.”

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

You two continued talking for the rest of the afternoon, and right before dinner, Isaac went back to Scott’s for dinner with them and to gather a few things.

“Hey, we’re turning in for the night,” your mom pops her head into your room.

“Alright. Goodnight.” She leaves moments later and as soon as you hear her walk back downstairs, you text Isaac that he’s good to come over.

Twenty minutes later, Isaac comes crawling through your window, a duffle bag dangling from his shoulder. Unfortunately, this time he doesn’t do it so gracefully. He slips off the ledge and falls to the floor, his bag landing on top of him.

A groan falls from his lips as you laugh loudly. When he finally regains his composure, his eyes narrow at you and you immediately stop laughing. But moments later, he breaks the act and can’t help but smile.

After changing into a comfier pair of clothing, Isaac crawls into bed with you and pulls you close to his chest right away.

“Is there any new information on whoever’s attacking people?” You wonder.

“Yeah, but it’s late and I don’t want to...frighten you with it. So we’ll talk about it in the morning. I just wanna lay here and hold you and kiss you-”

“You know, you have yet to kiss me,” you mention. Isaac smiles widely and leans down to capture your lips.

“Just like I’ve imagined,” he whispers against your lips.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagines #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #daniel sharman #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[husbandohunter]

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

______________________________________________________

Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

• Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future. 

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~ 

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7. 

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season. 

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching  the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find. 

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his.  Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate! 

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #nya-writes #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

[todoroki-waifu]

Atsumu x F! Reader

Scenario: When you try to subtly confess to Atsumu.

Word Count: 1,970

Genre: Fluff and humor.

Warnings: Cursing, female reader, and some OOC-ness (maybe?). My first time writing for Atsumu and the rest of the Inarizaki team. 

————

“I get that she’s the most beautiful here, but we are here to check out the art, too.” Atsumu jumps slightly at a voice and hand on his shoulder. 

“‘Samu!" 

"Could you be any more obvious?" 

"I-I wasn’t doing anything!” Atsumu huffs, a blush attacking his face as he shakes off his brother’s hand. 

“Why don’t you ask her out already before someone else does?" 

"I’m working on it!" 

"Hey, who’s that with __(y/n)?” Suna chimes into their conversation, nodding to where you had been standing and admiring a portrait. The two see a man conversing with you, both of you very engaged in whatever topic that was being discussed. He brought out a small electronic device, looking a bit nervous as he showed you the screen. 

“He’s probably going to ask for her number.” Osamu replies indifferently, but did a quick glance at his sibling.

“What?!” Atsumu immediately leaves the group.

“Wait, but doesn’t that guy-” Aran questions, but Kita cuts him off while the others hold in their chuckles.

“Let him figure it out." 

——-

"So if you put your-” While you were listening to the young man who approached you, a familiar face made himself known.

“Hey, buddy, is there a problem over here?” Atsumu suddenly inserts himself in between you and the stranger. He stands tall, looming over the shorter male.

“N-no, there is no problem.”

“Atsumu-kun, he was just-” You placed a hand on his arm and tried to explain the situation.

“Don’t worry, __(y/n)-chan. I got this.” Atsumu gently pushes you behind him to hide you.

“Was there something you needed from her?” He continues. 

“No, si-sir. I-I was only trying to-”

“Well, if you ain’t got any business with her, I suggest you beat it.” The blonde twin glares at the male hiding behind his black device. He smirks victoriously, watching the scared stranger run away. He turns around to find you with your arms crossed and an incredulous look. 

“Why were you so mean to him?”

“Mean? What do you mean? Wasn’t he trying to hit on you?”

“What? No! He works here! He’s a staff member." 

"But didn’t he have his phone out to get your number?”

“Get my..-you mean his Ipad? He wasn’t trying to get my number, he was asking for my email so he could send a survey for us to fill out on how satisfied we were with the staff and the place." 

Atsumu had no answer, processing what he did to the innocent and diligent worker and to you. You must think he’s a crazy idiot for sure. 

"As funny and adorable that was, you’re coming with me to apologize.” You grabbed his hand, dragging Atsumu to find the man who he wrongly yelled at. 

“Yes..” He pouts, but obeys. You’re zipping through the crowd until you finally spot your target.

“He’s with someone else, but we’re waiting until he’s finished and I’m not letting go until you do." 

"I-I wasn’t gonna run away.” His cheeks heat up at your clasped hands, avoiding your gaze. 

“Just in case.” You continued to look forward, __(e/c) eyes too shy to meet his brown ones. 

“Thank you though,” You break the short pause, “I know it was a misunderstanding, but it’s nice to know that someone has my back.”

Atsumu directs his head to you, but is unable to see your face since it’s turned away with your finger busying itself with a strand of your hair. 

“Of course. Always.” Your heart skips at his soft reply. You feel a gentle squeeze on your hand and respond similarly, fighting back the smile that was eager to present itself.

“Oh look! He’s done. Let’s go.” You gently pull him towards the staff worker once he has finished speaking to the other customers. You’re about to release his hand, but Atsumu keeps a tight grip. Probably he’s nervous about admitting to his mistake, you assume. 

So you hold his hand just as tight, figuring he needs the support. You knew how much of a big baby he was.

But really, Atsumu was using this as an excuse to hold you just a bit longer. His fingers felt right in between yours. 

——-

You managed to take some great pictures wherever it was allowed, but the artwork that forbade photos, you captured in your memory. After touring around the entire museum, you and the boys were starting to feel hungry, so everyone agreed to eat at the nearest restaurant.

You saw a few people scattered outside and you volunteered to ask the host how long the wait would be. Osamu steps behind his brother and lightly taps the back of his knees with his.

“Remember, that guy works here." 

"Shut up, 'samu! I know that.” Atsumu huffs, red cheeks puffing out slightly as his friends laugh loudly. They stop as soon as you near them, telling the boys that there was a table open that could accommodate your party.

You sat in between the Miya twins which made you both nervous and happy. Your crush on Atsumu was getting worse every day yet you didn’t hate the feeling. You distracted yourself by looking through the menu, all of you deciding to share a couple appetizers before choosing your individual meals. 

“What are you getting, __(y/n)-chan?” Atsumu asks, brown eyes looking at you as he lowers his menu.

“Hmmmm, I’m not sure yet. I’m caught between number 8 and 9.” You point to the items on the main course list. 

“Oh! I was going to get the number 8. How about I get 8 and you get the 9 and we can just share? That way, we can get a taste of both. I’m curious about number 9 also.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?" 

"Yea, of course I wouldn’t mind!” He grins, folding the menu before placing it on the table. You copy him and wait for the server to collect your orders. 

You then bring out your phone, taking pictures of the boys and the restaurant’s interesting decor. Despite your school’s motto, you liked to keep the memories. 

“Ne, Atsumu-kun, mind if I borrow your phone? Your camera is better than mine.” Your cell phone was a few years old, but Atsumu just replaced his and you were waiting to upgrade yours. Part of you was glad that you hadn't yet because you were going to use this opportunity to see how he feels about you. 

“Sure. Here ya go.” He hands you his phone. 

“Thanks!” You start taking pictures of yourself, really impressed with the photo quality. 

“Take a selfie with me.” You change the camera view as you hold out your hand in front of you and Atsumu.

“You’re so far! Get close to me like you actually like me.” You say jokingly as you hear a few, muffled snickers around the table. Atsumu stutters a response, but you interrupt him when you start counting from three. 

“Ready? Smile!” You take a few shots before looking at each one closely.

“Yeck, I’m deleting that one. I look gross in there.” You weren’t satisfied with how you smiled and your eyes looked like they were in mid blink. 

“What? Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous!” Atsumu looks up at you after he watches you remove one of the many pictures. You blush at his statement, dodging his stare.

“Oh, ummm. ..t-thank you." 

"You don’t gotta thank me. It’s the truth.” Atsumu murmurs, but it’s coherent enough where you could understand him.

“Get ready with your orders. The waiter is coming.” Kita sees the server walking towards your table. You went first and while everyone else was focused on the waiter, you quickly dragged your finger around on the phone screen. You immediately closed what you were doing and handed Atsumu back his phone. 

Your heart was beating fast, but you kept a calm smile on your face as you casually made conversation with the volleyball team. None of the guys knew about your crush, afraid that they would make fun of you. Not that you believed they would, but you weren’t comfortable telling anyone yet. 

Except for today. 

You finally were going to tell one person about your crush and that person was Atsumu. You planned everything out for a while, thinking of every possible situation that could happen and how you would approach it. You were surprised at how smoothly your idea was going, but that made you even more uneasy. 

But you already made your move and hoped that he would notice the little message in his phone. 

———

Dinner was both fun yet stressful. Every time Atsumu would check his phone, your heart would jump at the thought of him seeing what you put. But he made no reaction so you assumed he had yet to see it. 

And you were fine with that. You’d prefer if he read it at home instead of in a public place. 

Everyone went their separate ways after the restaurant except you and the Miya twins. Your house wasn’t too far from theirs so they walked most of the way with you. Once you were close enough, you waved goodbye to the brothers.

“Bye! See you soon! And don’t forget to send me those pictures later, okay, Atsumu-kun?" 

"Yeah, I will! Bye, __(y/n)-chan!” Atsumu waved back before turning away with Osamu.

——–

Unfortunately, he never sent those pictures. He must have forgotten, but with how many days has passed, you believed he probably felt awkward with the little note you put. 

If he saw it. He never acted any differently when you saw him at school.

Maybe he never did see it? But you were too afraid to ask so you were just going to live quietly with your heartache. 

——-

“Oh, shoot! I forgot to send those pics to __(y/n)-chan!” Atsumu says loudly while he and Osamu walk home from practice.

“You haven’t sent them yet? It’s been a week.” Osamu shakes his head. 

“I forgot! I was too busy thinking of a way to tell her I like her. I gotta make sure it’s perfect.” The setter takes out his phone and taps on the photo album icon. As he selects and scrolls through the photos, his eyes become rounded at one particular image. 

It was a selfie of you and him, sitting close, cheek to cheek as you both smile happily. What made him pause was the heart drawn over the two of you with the words ’yes or no?’ written at the bottom.

“Ahh! ’s-samu! Look, look!” He shows his phone to his brother. “I think __(y/n)-chan likes me back! She put this on our picture!”

As soon as Osamu sees what’s on the screen, his eyes also widen slightly then suddenly smacks his brother at the back of his head. “Dumbass! That photo has been sitting there for that long already?”

“I told you already, I forgot! And she never said anything! Other than to send the pictures after we ate- Oh my God, 'samu, I really am a dumbass!” Realization hit Atsumu harder than his brother’s slap.

“I knew that a long time ago. Now, why are you still here talking to me? Shouldn’t you be talking to __(y/n) instead?" 

"You’re right! I gotta text her!” Atsumu’s hands were working fast in trying to find your text message conversation. Before Osamu could even make a snide comment, Atsumu becomes aware of a better alternative to communicate with you. 

———

On your way home, you received multiple texts from Atsumu, all saying the same thing.

Yes!

Yes!!

Yes!

Yes!!!!

’The hell? Yes to what?’ Right when you were about to reply, you saw an incoming call from the setter who made your heart skip a beat daily. 

“Hello?” You answer. 

“Yes! __(y/n), yes! I want to be your boyfriend!”

#haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #one shot #haikyuu one shot #hq oneshots #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu reader insert #atsumu x you #atsumu drabble #atsumu oneshot #atsumu imagines #submission

[knivesareout]

take on the world - chapter two

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (m receiving), protected p in v, alcohol consumption, bad banter, possible typos

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Aaaand here’s chapter two! I finally decided to work on an outline for this and it made things much smoother so go me! The angst will, unfortunately, come in at some point so enjoy these two while they’re being hopelessly cute. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

CHAPTER ONE | MASTERLIST

---

Wednesday rolls around quicker than you thought it would and your work day goes by even faster.

Your walk home is quiet and you enjoy the peaceful atmosphere; it wasn’t often that the sidewalks weren’t crowded with groups of people trying to get somewhere in a hurry. You were in a blissful state at the idea of seeing Frankie again and nothing was going to change that.

There wasn’t much you could compare this feeling to- this feeling you had about Frankie. All of your past relationships were one and done, if you could even call them relationships. A few dates, a hook-up, and usually that was it. Nothing clicked and it was always mutual. Only one guy had gotten further than that but only barely. He’d managed about 4 dates in total until you realized you were the one carrying the conversations, that you had nothing in common, and the only thing you could remember about him was that he hated fish. Relationships seemed more trouble than they were worth.

None of those feelings were present when you thought about Frankie. So, what was it about him that made you feel so different? So willing to let your guard down?

Was it the fact that he sounded genuinely interested in your thoughts, feelings, and passions? The fact that he was willing to be open about himself and tell you things other than the shallow, on the surface stuff? That you could talk all night and not run out of things to say? There had yet to be any sort of awkward silence between you two- both of you eager to fill the space with something funny or just a random thought, slowly learning one another.

Two dates, dozens of texts and a couple phone calls and you were already falling deep. The phone call only the night before had lasted until 2am, Frankie regaling stories from his army buddies that had you in stitches. It felt too soon to even think about but the thought was there, in the back of your mind. Was this love? Everything about this entire situation was foreign to you but welcome in a way that it usually wasn’t.

If this was even close to what falling in love was like, why hadn’t you tried sooner? Maybe it was because you hadn’t even been trying this time- Frankie had just fallen into your lap, rescued you really, and it felt like some kind of universal sign to try. Except it didn’t even feel like trying with him because it all came so natural to you.

It seemed to make the most sense for Frankie to come to your place for dinner that night since he already knew where you lived. Your apartment was thankfully previously cleaned up and you were glad for the chores you’d already taken care of earlier in the week so that was at least one less stressor.

Frankie had called on your lunch break to tell you he was grocery shopping for dinner, asking your opinions on what sounded good and if you had any allergies.

A soft sigh passes through your lips as you push into your apartment, kicking the door closed, tossing your bag on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and all but collapsing on your couch. Nerves were starting to eat at you and you scream loudly into the cushion, your legs thrashing behind you.

It takes a few moments for you to try and collect yourself, your heart still beating quickly from your anxiousness and it slowly starts ebbs away as you breathe deep and the tension releases, your cheek smushed on the couch cushion and you sigh.

“Fuck.”

Changing into something more comfortable than the work clothes you’d been in, you pull on a pair of leggings and a sweater. As much of a date this was, you were also in the comfort of your own apartment and weren’t about to dress up just to sit on the couch and eat dinner while you watched a movie with Frankie.

You busy yourself with watching YouTube videos on your TV for the next couple of hours, curled under a soft blanket while you wait for a text from Frankie. The distraction was needed because you knew the more time alone with your thoughts, the more time you’d overthink everything and make it worse.

Now time seems to creep slowly, your eyes drifting towards the time on your phone. The nerves are slowly creeping back in and it’s jarring for your phone to start vibrating when it does, your heart beating quickly.

“Hey,” you answer, “Are you here?”

Frankie grunts through the speaker and you laugh quietly, “Yeah. Do you need to buzz me up? Someone in your lobby is eyeing me weirdly since I can’t figure out how to get in and my hands are full of groceries.”

You jump up quickly and head to the buzzer on your door, balancing the phone on your shoulder. “Yeah, just push the button for 1202 and I’ll let you in. 12th floor.”

“See you in a sec,” he tells you and hangs up. The buzzer comes through seconds later and you hit the button in front of you, going to unlock your front door while you wait.

The silence of your apartment suddenly feels stifling and you pull up Spotify on your tv, playing Fleetwood Mac to fill the room. It feels better at least and you slowly start to sway with the music. You wonder what it’s like to dance with him, if he was silly about it or had rhythm in his hips. The smile on your face is probably comical at the thought but a knock breaks you out of your day dream and you rush towards the door, pulling it open quickly to see him smiling.

Your heart squeezes at the sight and you move to the side to let him in, shutting it behind closed and flipping the lock.

“Got enough there?”

Frankie’s arms are laden with bags and you can’t figure out what he’s going to be making when he goes to set them on the counter and turns to you. “I sure as hell hope so,” he chuckles, motioning for you.

It’s easy to fall into his arms. They squeeze tight around you in greeting and you turn your head to place a kiss to his jaw, the one spot you’re now determined to kiss every time you see him. He feels warm and smells great and you dig your nose into his chest, the softness of his t-shirt, and his chest rumbles as he laughs at you.

“You good there?” His voice is teasing and you mumble an affirmative, not quite ready to let go.

You finally pull back from his embrace to lean against the counter opposite him, kicking his shoe with your bare foot. “Get comfortable while I go through these.”

Frankie rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything while you start to pull out what looks like pizza ingredients. Sauce, pre-made dough, and every topping you could ever imagine.

“I’m guessing you can’t really cook,” you turn over your shoulder to look at him now in just his socks with his jacket thrown over a barstool at your kitchen island and he shrugs helplessly.

“What makes you say that?” He tries to look indignant but he breaks the facade seconds later. “Not really. I had to call a friend and ask for help and he suggested just ordering pizza so at least this is an upgrade right?”

The thought really is sweet and you nod quickly, hoping to appease the bit of nerves you can see creeping in over his expression.

Frankie tugs his hat off and runs a hand through his hair before readjusting it back on top of his head. It’s a nervous tick he does and one you’d picked up on at the bar when you’d met him.

“I’ve honestly never done this? Like, made pizza before. Have you?”

Frankie shakes his head in reply, “Can’t be that hard, can it? Seems pretty easy.”

He shuffles over towards you and pulls the rest of the ingredients out- different types of cheeses, some oil, and a couple spices you don’t recognize. Two bottles of wine are in the last bag and you raise your eyebrows until you spot the 6 pack of beer that he’d left by the door.

He looks over everything spread out on the island and turns to you sheepishly. “Well, maybe we should look it up.”

---

The pizza doesn’t turn out to be all that hard to make and Frankie teases you about your lack of toppings- basic cheese with a few scattered veggies. His is loaded and probably weighs twice as much as yours does but he insists it’s better like that, pinching your ass as you walk away to let them cook.

Your music still plays softly in the background and Frankie collapses on your couch, tugging his hat off and tossing it on the coffee table. You like how comfortable he seems in your place, and you sway softly to the music, just looking at him.

Frankie catches you staring, a curious look in his eye and he laughs. “What are you looking at?”

“Come dance with me.” You’re still slowly moving to the music, the song switching to Tiny Dancer, and you hold your hand out for him with a pleading look. “Please.”

You watch him hesitate, debating with himself until he pushes up from the couch and takes your hand in his. “I don’t really dance,” he tells you, a hand going to your hip while his other clutches yours.

Cautiously, you both move around the small space in your apartment. It’s careful and quiet, Frankie giving your hip a squeeze. It brings your attention to him and he nudges his nose with yours. “You know what I was just thinking?”

“Hm?”

“That I haven’t kissed you yet. You kiss me where I can’t grow facial hair but you won’t kiss my lips.”

He’s teasing you again and you step on his toe, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your thumb brushes against the spot in question, the skin there smooth.

“Shit head,” he mumbles with a deep chuckle. Moving the hand that’s clutched in yours down to your back, he whirls you around, dipping you low. “You sure about that?”

“No.”

Your balance is off and you know you’re going to fall in the next 20 seconds but you surge up anyway, arms wrapping around his neck to find some balance and press your lips to Frankie’s in a slow kiss.

It’s just what you thought it would be- soft and sweet. His lips a little bit chapped but warm, your hands finding his hair and pulling him in deeper.

The timer for the pizza sounds loudly on your phone, interrupting you, and it catches you both by surprise, Frankie’s arms going slack around you and with your arms around him you bring him down to the floor with you as you both fall in a tangle of limbs, laughing loudly.

“Was that worth it?” You try to catch your breath, poking him in the stomach and he laughs even harder, batting your hands away.

“Not if the pizza burns,” he groans, rolling away from you and getting up to check on the oven.

It takes a second to try and catch your breath so you stay, sprawled out on the floor, turning to watch Frankie pull the pizzas out and turn off the oven. “They alright? Or do we need to order pizza?”

“Crust looks a little crispy but I think they’re still edible,” he glances around, looking for you and snickers when he sees you still on the floor. “Where’s your pizza cutter?”

“Drawer next to the fridge.”

Shuffling around on the floor, you finally stand up and bump Frankie out of your way to grab the bottle opener, pulling the wine bottle closest to you across the counter and popping it open.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that 6 pack you brought in here. Go on, I don’t expect you to drink wine too,” you nudge him.

Frankie shoots you a grateful look while you bring the cut pizzas to the coffee table and sit on the floor, legs crossed and leaning back against the couch.

“You don’t wanna sit on the couch?” He’s looking at you strangely, but you shrug.

“I like the floor but you can sit up there if you want.”

He takes a seat next to you and you both dig in.

Watching him try to eat his massive pizza is hilarious- making you laugh so hard you almost snort, the drink of wine a bad choice as it threatens to come back up through your nose.

“I didn’t know your mouth could go so wide,” you manage to choke out, coughing to try and clear your throat from your laugh.

Frankie almost chokes himself at your bad joke, dropping the slice on the plate and chugging down his beer to try and breathe.

“We’re a fucking mess.” ---

You’re rinsing the dishes while Frankie loads the dishwasher, a solid system set up, because despite your protests that you’d just do it yourself, Frankie insisted that he help.

“I think I might have ice cream if you wanna share some,” you offer the dish towel to him after drying your hands. He waves you off, running his palms over the thighs of his jeans with a cheeky smile and you roll your eyes.

“Depends on the flavor,” he tells you as if your response is make it or break it.

Cookie dough is apparently an acceptable flavor so you share a bowl on the couch while you try to explain to Frankie that the new Jurassic World movies are trash.

“It’s just a cash grab!” You explain, pointing your spoon at him. “And sure, the second and third Jurassic Park movies aren’t great, but they’re at least better than these new ones. I can’t believe they’re making sequels.”

“The effects are good though, you can’t deny that,” he insists, grabbing a spoonful of the ice cream and shoveling into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s not the point. The story isn’t good and that is the point and makes it not worth watching. Even if I do like Bryce Dallas Howard.” You pause, thinking for a second. “But I do now suddenly remember that Jeff Goldblum is gonna be in the next one so maybe.”

You eat the last bit of the cookie dough left in the bowl and set it on the coffee table, licking your spoon clean and dropping it inside.

Frankie’s eyes are trained on you and you touch your cheek, wondering if you’ve got left over pizza sauce on you. “Have I got something on my face?”

Nodding, Frankie drops his spoon in next to yours and leans forward. “Just a little ice cream here.” He’s close, just a breath away, and his mouth presses in towards the corner of your lips, his tongue darting out to lick there and you gasp, turning your face into his to press your lips together.

The kiss starts a chain of events that make your head spin. Frankie wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hands settling around your hips. Your arms loop around his neck, hands finding his hair and tugging as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. The kiss is all tongue and teeth this time, licking into each other’s mouths. The faint taste of vanilla from the ice cream is there and it makes you smile against this lips, breaking the kiss to try and catch your breath.

You’re suddenly thankful you’d only pulled on leggings for the night, the heat between your legs easily finding his growing erection behind his jeans and you press down, seeking friction.

His lips move down your neck and Frankie pulls at the shoulder of your sweater to kiss across the skin there, teeth sinking in and sucking harshly. You know there will be a dark mark there come morning and a moan bubbles up in your throat at the harsh contact and you swallow it down, self conscious. You’d once been teased about the noises you made and you didn’t want anything to stop the delicious feeling you were experiencing with Frankie if he didn’t like them either.

You pull his mouth away from your shoulder, tipping his chin up to look at you. His dark eyes are blown wide, his mouth wet, and hair a mess. It’d been only a few minutes and already Frankie looks entirely debauched- and in your opinion, never looked sexier. “You’re so fucking hot,” you tell him, running a hand down his jaw, across his chest, down to the button of his jeans.

“Bedroom,” he chokes out as you palm him through the denim while you fiddle with the button there. “We should- bedroom. Take this to the bedroom.”

He’s right, despite how much you don’t want to move. The couch was comfortable but not the ideal place for sex so you slipped off, offering him your hand and pulling him towards your room.

Your bedroom is small and the bed takes up most of the space. A queen bed you’d treated yourself to when you had moved downtown placed in the middle with two thrifted nightstands on either side and a dresser tucked in the corner by your bathroom.

It wasn’t much but it was comfortable and you couldn’t wait to get Frankie under the sheets.

Swinging your legs up onto the bed, you settle yourself in the middle, back pressed against the pillows and crook a finger towards him. Frankie tugs his shirt off and joins you, crawling up the mattress and lying next to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells you quietly, running a hand across your cheek and you close your eyes at the feeling of careful intimacy. Turning your head, you press your lips to his palm and lean in to nudge your nose against his.

The kiss turns quickly heated again, your hands running across his shoulders and back, digging into the soft skin. You can feel scars and bumps beneath your palms as they explore him and you’re eager to learn his body.

Frankie’s hand slips up the front of your sweater, hands seeking more and you bite back a moan as his palm glides across your breast and squeezes, testing the weight and slowly starts to massage the flesh.

“Come on. I wanna hear you, baby. Don’t be shy.”

You close your eyes and will yourself to just let go. Nothing about Frankie has indicated that he’d tease you for something that comes so natural and you nod, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

His hand slides behind your back to unclasp your bra and the material slackens against you. Next he pulls off your sweater, your head popping out of the collar and you throw it to the side. Your bra is tossed in the same general direction and Frankie descends on your chest, mouth seeking more skin to mark.

Frankie brushes his mouth around your left nipple while his fingers pinch at the right. The dual sensation makes you keen, your hips thrusting up in search of friction. There was a fire burning between your thighs and you ached to have him fill you.

Your fingers find the edge of his jeans and tug. Pulling away from the kiss you whine, “Off. I want them off. Too many clothes.”

“I’d say we’re pretty even,” he jokes against your nipple, tugging at the band of your leggings.

“So do something about it.”

Frankie grips the material, fingers finding the band of your underwear too, and he yanks them down your legs, your feet kicking them off the rest of the way.

The cool air of your room raises goosebumps along your skin, Frankie’s hand sliding up your calf, to your thigh, and he parts your legs to allow him better access to your aching core. You know you’re soaked, wetness coating your inner thighs and down to your ass.

“Is this all for me?” He asks you, running a finger across the curls at your core and down between your lips to coat his finger in your juices.

“Yes. Fuck, Frankie please,” you promise him, watching his hand play with you.

He’s focused on everything else.

Frankie drinks in your naked form while his finger teases you up and down, his eyes scanning your body. When normally you would shy from such an intense gaze, your nerves are nonexistent. Not here, with him- not with how comfortable you’d grown with him despite your earlier misgivings.

Your eyes zero in on the denim still covering his legs and you nudge his thigh with your toes. “Take ‘em off Frankie.”

It’s like you’ve pulled him out of a daydream and he nods, sliding his finger into his mouth to clean it off before undoing the buttons on his jeans and pulling them off to toss them on the floor.

He’s back on the bed in a flash, sliding between your parted thighs and he surges up to kiss you. Your hands find purchase on his back, pulling his chest against yours and you arch up into the contact, your nipples rubbing against the sparse hair on his chest.

Frankie’s cock lays hard on your thigh, thick and dripping on your skin. Your fingers ache to touch him, feel him in your hand so you reach down while still kissing him, thumb brushing along the wet tip before you grip him firmly.

He breaks the kiss to moan against your mouth, forehead against yours while he relishes in your touch. Frankie’s hips thrust into your hand and you squeeze his cock tighter in your grip, sliding your hand up and down him in a practiced rhythm. “Does that feel good?”

Barely managing to nod, Frankie brokenly moans against your cheek on the uptick of your thumb smoothing over the head and you bring your wet hand up to your mouth, licking it clean of the pre-cum smeared across your skin. “Wanna blow you, Frankie. Will you let me?”

He nods quickly, shifting until he’s flat on his back and watching you situate yourself over his cock that’s laying hard on his stomach. You drag a finger up the length of him, Frankie shuddering at your touch.

You move closer, your mouth leaning down to press kisses against his lower stomach and around his leaking cock. Your eyes trail up to find his eyes closed, head pressing deep into the pillows while he breathes slowly and you smirk. Finally your mouth makes contact with the head, your tongue darting out to lick at the mess he’s made, moaning at the taste. The feel of your hands make up for what your mouth can’t take- Frankie’s big, thick and stretching your mouth wide and you struggle at first to take him deeper. Eventually you find a steadying rhythm, mouth sucking him in and hands tightening around the base. His moans are encouraging and music to your ears, only spurring you on further.

It’s sloppy and you’re sure you look obscene with your lips stretched wide around the girth of Frankie’s cock, spit and pre-cum dripping down your chin and fist. Your hand moves from the length of him down to cup his balls, rolling them in your palm and giving them a gentle tug. That seems to get Frankie’s attention and his eyes shoot down to lock with yours, pupils blown wide and neck veins straining.

Pulling off slowly, you give the head a hard suck and start sponging kisses along the girth of this shaft. “Do you not wanna cum?”

Frankie’s hand reaches down and rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and you suck it in, unable to help yourself. He swears in Spanish quietly, looking up to the ceiling before glancing back down to you. “I’ve got condoms- in my wallet. Wherever my jeans are. I need to be inside you.”

His thumb drops from your mouth and you move off the bed in search of his jeans. They’re on top of your sweater and you dig his wallet out, finding two condoms tucked around a five dollar bill. You leave one, dropping Frankie’s wallet back on the ground and tearing into the packaging of the other once you’re sitting back between his legs.

You sheath him quickly in the condom, moving your knees to sit on either side of his hips. You don’t realize your thighs are shaking until Frankie sets his hands on them, squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you promise him with a quiet laugh.

Reaching between you, you grasp his cock and slowly lower yourself down until your hips meet his, flushed together.

The feeling of being full- stretched to the brim and full of his cock is intoxicating and you bite your lip, trying to hold yourself together. Frankie isn’t much better beneath you, his hands still gripping your thighs tight, his knuckles gone white with the pressure. His neck is bared, head pressed into the pillow behind him and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to gain his composure.

You start off slowly, a slow dip of your hips to try and get used to the feeling of him inside of you. It lights a spark up your spine, a low simmering that builds the more you move. Frankie watches you, completely entranced; the way your breasts move while you start to bounce on his lap, his hands sliding up past your stomach to grip them tightly in his hands. His fingers pinch and pull at your tight nipples, a moan slipping past your lips and you fall forward, bracing yourself against his chest.

It takes no time at all for Frankie’s lips to find yours now that your mouth is closer, tongue licking in. His hands slide to your waist and they hold you there, his hips thrusting forward as he starts to pound into you. It’s too much and not enough, your mouth falling from Frankie’s to lay open against his chest while you try to breathe, panting loudly.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands moving to your ass and pulling apart your cheeks to allow him to slip further inside of you. “Touch yourself for me, I know you’re close.”

You’d do anything Frankie told you to in that moment and you snake a hand between your bodies, rubbing quick circles over the slippery bud, fingers bumping against Frankie’s cock as he works into you. Your body is shaking above his, a high pitched “fuck,” slipping past your lips as you start to cum around him. The feeling is like nothing you remember. Stars burst behind your eyelids, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Your toes are numb at the sensation and your breathing is heavy, mouth still open and pressed to his chest.

Frankie groans lowly as you tighten around him and he continues to thrust into you at a lightning quick pace in search of his own release. He’s not too far behind you, swearing in Spanish, and he trembles below you as he cums. His thrusts don’t stop, just slow down while you both catch your breath. It’s comforting, intimate, that you’re both still connected and you kiss up his chest to his neck, lips latching on to your favorite spot along his jaw. Light kisses go up his cheek until they finally land on his lips and you kiss him languidly, resting your hands on either side of his face.

Eventually, Frankie pulls away. His hands run up your sides, across your back and he noses against your cheek. “We should probably get up.” His voice is quiet and you nod slowly. The last thing you want to do is move but your thighs are sticky with your release and it’s starting to grow uncomfortable.

Your legs shake as you move off of Frankie, losing your balance once your feet are back on the floor and you giggle once you catch your footing. “I’m good, I’m good,” you say mostly to yourself, moving around the room and padding quietly into the bathroom.

By the time you’ve cleaned yourself up and wet a rag to wipe down Frankie, he’s disposed of the condom and is pulling back the blankets to your bed. “Here, just toss it to me,” he tells you, hands out to catch the washcloth. It’s a perfect throw and he wipes himself down- tossing the cloth onto the floor and sliding into bed.

It’s perfect how he’s picked the right side to settle down in; you always slept on the left, no matter how hard you tried to sleep in the middle and you slip in next to Frankie, maneuvering yourself until you’re tucked in under his arm, cheek to his chest.

Frankie tucks a finger under your chin to bring your lips closer to his in a quick kiss and you can’t help smiling into it. An unexpected yawn passes through you and he laughs quietly, “We should sleep.”

“I know,” you pout, “I set my alarm early so I can make breakfast for us before I head into work.”

“Thought you might’ve forgotten,” he teases with a light pinch to your hip.

The feeling makes you squeal and you go to pull away but Frankie just tugs you in closer, arms wrapping around you tightly. “I owe you right? And I’m not one to back out of a promise.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good-,” another yawn passes your lips and you settle back into Frankie’s chest. “You should.”

“Night querida.”

“Night Frankie.”

----

Your alarm wakes you up only a few hours later, blaring loudly in the living room where you left your phone. It’s a struggle to get out of bed, untangling your limbs from Frankie and padding in there quickly to turn it off.

Despite the lack of hours you slept, you still felt refreshed. Not once had you tossed or turned during the night, waking up in the same position you’d fallen asleep in.

Shuffling back into your room, Frankie rolls over and blinks an eye open, a slow smile sliding across his features when he looks at you. “Morning,” he rasps, scratching at his jaw.

“Morning.” You lean over, pressing your cursory kiss to the spot on his jaw that was becoming easier and easier to land on when you leaned in. “I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick.” Frankie only nods when you pull away and you’re almost bummed when he doesn’t offer to join you.

The shower is quick, efficient and you’re eager to get started on breakfast, wanting to show off what little skills you had in the kitchen.

Frankie whistles when you emerge in only a towel and you wave him off, embarrassed. Despite having shown off your body last night, it was different in the light of the day and you close the door to the closet while you dress for work. Your pull on your favorite top paired with the pants that make your ass look good and slip back out to find Frankie dressed in his jeans and shirt from the night before sat at your kitchen island.

Frankie’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you cook; asking questions about what you’re doing and its purpose. You answer him carefully, smiling at the fact that he genuinely seems to want to learn about what you’re doing.

You serve up french toast only a few moments later, bacon and eggs on the side.

You’re both quick to dig in, the activities from the previous night having worked up an appetite and you’re done in record time, rubbing your belly. Frankie isn’t far behind you, downing the rest of his orange juice and wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“Well, that was well worth the win. Much better than the pizzas,” he tells you, patting your thigh and stacking your plates together to bring to the sink.

You watch him move around your kitchen, rinsing the plates. It’s domestic and sweet, seeing him clean up for the both of you. Your heartbeat picks up a little at the thought that this, at some point, could be a regular occurrence. You and Frankie waking up early for breakfast before work, cleaning up and seeing each other off. The image is something you know you’ll hold onto, one you hope will come true.

Your name is being called and you blink, realizing Frankie was saying something. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked what time you had to be at work, it’s 15 til.”

“Shit, I didn’t even realize the time. Yeah I need to be there at 9, I’m sorry,” you apologize.

You hop off the barstool and start gathering your things. Your laptop and files you’d pulled out yesterday that were never touched get tossed in your bag and you turn to Frankie. “How do you feel about giving me a ride?”

“You got it.”

The ride is silent with the exception of Frankie’s truck rumbling beneath you while he navigates through downtown.

“Got any plans Friday night?”

You turn your head towards him, tilting it slightly as you think. “I don’t think so, no. Why, what’s up?”

“Was thinking about taking you to a movie. There’s a theater around my place that does showings of old movies and I think they might be playing Jurassic Park this weekend.”

The fact that Frankie’s here, asking you out again, has your stomach in knots. Was this too much? Frankie clearly didn’t think so and you hesitate.

“If it’s too much, I get it. I’ve taken up a good chunk of your time and we can figure something else out another time,” he tries to clear up, turning to watch you once the traffic light turns red. He’s tapping quickly at the steering wheel with his thumbs and you know he’s just as anxious about this entire situation between you two as you are; putting yourself out there is terrifying.

“No, yeah I’d love to. I really would Frankie,” you promise him, taking one of his hands off the wheel to lace your fingers with his. “I just don’t want to mess this up by going too fast and like, I know it seems like it is but… it doesn’t feel like it? Not really?”

“You’re right. Normally I’m not like this, I swear. I have fucking boundaries,” he laughs, “but I like being around you. A lot.”

“So, Friday then? Jurassic Park, popcorn, and candy? Maybe a little hand holding?”

The light turns green and he squeezes your hand. “Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

Frankie sends you off to work with a quick kiss and a honk as he pulls away and the smile never leaves your face that day.

--- 

TAGLIST: @icanbeyourjedi​ @bookishofalder​ @marvelousmermaid​ @soyelfuegoquearde​ @bdavishiddlesbatch​ @wyn-dixie​ @peterhollandkait​

#frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #my writing #take on the world

[chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay]

// Day 6 //

// Fame //

Tikki was pissed. Her holder had been bullied mercilessly by Lila and due to the spell cast, her Ladybug's friends can't see it.

If only she could cause the lies to backfire.

Of course!

…..

Lila giggled as the swarm of admirers asked her for another story.

"Oh. I have this story about this family from Gotham. You probably haven't heard of them, but they're a big deal over there. The Waynes. I even dated one of them. Tom."

Marinette rolled her eyes. Of course she'd go for Gotham socialites, just before the class heads to America.

"Oh it's such a shame that you can't see them on the trip."

Their class had been planning this trip for months. They raised enough money to spend a few days in a city and two or three towns. One of the cities that were excluded due to budget was Gotham. But this was so very convenient to Lila.

"Actually," a mischievous voice piped up, "Daddy graciously agreed to match the money we raised and double it. Just so we won't miss out on anything America has to offer. So we will be able to go to Gotham."

A few of the girls in the class smiled.

"That's so kind of you and your dad, Chloé," Lila said, "But we wouldn't want to be abusing your friendship."

Marinette laughed slightly as Chloé's shark grin widened, "Oh it's no problem. I've changed for the better now! And what's a better way to prove it than providing for our class. I mean Marinette does so much for this class, what's a little money?"

…..

As it turns out, the 'little money' was not little. At all.

Chloé's dad didn't just match and double the money raised. Adrien's dad added to the pile, too! Although probably not out of devotion to his son, more like devotion to not being shown up by André Bourgeois of all people. The class itself raised over a thousand more than they needed to, anyway.

Now the class budget for visiting America was worth over 10 times as much and both Bourgeois and Agreste had to be asked to stop giving money, because Marinette couldn't think of any other activities or places for the class and they couldn't reasonably spend that much.

…..

The day after summer break started, the class arrived at the airport, ready to get their trip started.

The only problem was that Marinette's ticket was missing. The whole class looked for it everywhere. Only for Rose to find it ripped up in the bin.

"Oh dear, Marinette," Lila said, feigning innocence, "It looks like you can't come!"

Alya rubbed her friends back in comfort, "Don't worry, girl. We'll figure something out!"

…..

In fact, they did figure something out. Mlle. Mendeleiev explained the situation to the front desk.

"I'm sorry ma'am, unfortunately we can't reissue you the ticket for the same seat. But there is a seat in first class free. We can upgrade Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette scratched her neck, "I don't know. That sounds expensive."

Adrien and Chloé met each others eyes, a silent agreement was made between the two ever since Lila's spell broke. To help Marinette whenever they can.

He walked forward, "Don't worry. I'll pay."

Marinette scrunched her eyebrows, "Adrien, no! That's too much"

The lady at the front desk grinned, "No need to worry, sir. The airline will provide the seat free of charge. Have a good day!"

…..

As the class boarded the plane, Lila feigned ear pain.

"Mlle. Mendeleiev! I'm having a tremendous earache! Maybe sitting in first class will help? They have hot towels."

The teacher looked alarmed, "Lila if you have an ear infection, it can be dangerous to fly. You could burst an eardrum! Maybe you should stay here and fly out when you're better."

Lila's eyes widened, "Oh, never mind! My mind must be playing tricks!"

…..

The class landed in LA and collected their bags from the carousel. Except Marinette.

Lila, once again, faked concern, "Oh Marinette! All your clothes are gone!"

Chloé grinned, "No worries, Marinette can borrow some of mine until she figures something else out."

Alya nodded, "Mine too!"

There was a chorus of agreement from the girls (and from Kim who wasn't listening but still agreed when he realised what was happening).

Marinette smiled kindly, "It's fine guys! I appreciate the offers but that was just my night bag! I sent my bags ahead just in case something like this happened. There were only old pyjamas and a few toiletries in there."

Lila let out a low growl that nobody noticed. Except for a little red bug rat who's mischievous grin spread wide.

…..

When they reached the hotel, the class looked around in awe of the fanciness.

Marinette collected the room keys and assigned rooms to everyone, making sure to hand the Los Angeles itineraries out as well.

"Feel free to get something to eat before going to bed and meet here at 8am.

…..

Marinette woke up feeling refreshed, she checked her phone and found it was only 6am local time.

"Hmm, I'm never up this early. Must be luck!"

She opened her door to see if anyone else was awake, but on the floor outside were her suitcases.

"Oh, how fortunate! The hotel must have sent them up a few hours early."

…..

Lila looked all over the lobby, feigning concern, "Oh, it looks like Marinette isn't here. Maybe we should go ahead without her. She's probably sleeping in. You know our Marinette."

Suddenly, the automatic doors of the lobby opened to reveal Marinette carrying a coffee and wearing some of the most stylish clothes Lila had ever seen.

Her eye twitched.

…..

The class was about to climb off the bus before Marinette stopped them with an announcement.

"Okay, everyone. I need you all to listen because this is very, very important. Today we'll be visiting many attractions, including a tour of some of the studios. I tried to get tours of places that will interest at least one person. Please remember that these are places of business even if it doesn't seem like it with all the costumes and acting."

…..

Lila couldn't believe her misfortune. None of her attempts to hurt Dupain-Cheng have worked and some have even backfired right back on her.

She tried to push Marinette onto the set of a show filming live. But she just tripped herself and had to face the humility she tried to subject Marinette to.

She couldn't even pin the blame on Marinette because there were cameras pointed at the audience and if they checked they would see her failed attempt.

Lila couldn't have that.

…..

A few days later, the class packed up and headed to Anaheim, so they could spend a few days in Disneyland before heading to the next state.

The result was not great for Lila.

…..

"Oh thank you, Marinette, for saving my space, you can go now."

Marinette's face scrunched up and Adrien and Chloé were about to pounce.

But someone else bet them to the punch.

"Um… Excuse me, miss."

Lila turned around only to be met with a hair bob.

"There aren't any cuts allowed."

Lila smiled beautifully at the woman, "Oh my friend was saving this space for me."

The woman didn't look impressed, "No, cuts. Do I need to get an employee over here? I've been waiting in this line for three fricken hours, because my kid didn't wanna go on the Teacups, if I have to wait three hours to get on the Tower of Terror. So do you."

Lila was pushed out of the line by the Karen.

…..

While on the bus to Arizona, Lila got herself thinking.

'Why are my attempts of ruining Marinette, not working? Am I losing my touch?'

…..

For the next few weeks, the class had the trip of a lifetime. They visited many attractions, including the Grand Canyon, the Kennedy Space Centre and they saw alligators in Louisiana.

The class were delighted to learn that even though the road trip portion of their trip was over they still had a lot left.

They flew up to Massachusetts and spent a few days visiting tourist sites in Boston, whilst others took college tours.

Everyone was excited to visit their colleges of choice and luckily Marinette was able to arrange for train and bus tickets for day trips for anyone who wanted to visit any colleges in the second part of the trip.

Lila made it her mission to take up Marinette's offer whenever possible, just to slightly inconvenience her, but no matter what Marinette seemed happy to help. It infuriated Lila.

Every time she'd get off a bus or train, Lila would walk around the town, shopping, instead of going to colleges.

…..

Soon, the class arrived in Gotham, Lila was worried.

For some reason, people would pass by Marinette and ask for selfies, which greatly confused the class before Max found out that MDC was very famous and popular in Gotham. Apparently, the Wayne's were big fans of MDC's work and they owned several originals. Unfortunately, for Lila they were also the family she lied about and they had a connection to Marinette, her one rival.

"Oh Marinette, isn't that swell! I did mention you in passing to Tom, but he must have looked you up and liked your work!"

She knew that the likelihood of running into a Wayne was low, so she had no problem lying. But, on the day Marinette announced to the class that she and the entire class was invited to the Wayne Gala, Lila felt a pit in her stomach.

…..

Luckily for Marinette, her fame in the city got her some discounts in fabric and supply stores, so she was very easily able to get what she needed for her friends outfits.

The class was supposed to be in Gotham for a month in order to attend some summer classes in Gotham University, so Marinette (who only signed up for 3 classes) was able to get a lot done.

In fact, by the time the Gala came around she had all the outfits ready.

She made everyone an outfit.

A bouncy pink dress for Rose and an elegant but dark coloured dress for Juleka. For Alix, she made a suit that would match her favourite sneakers.

Alya had a high-necked burnt orange dress that went to her knees, whilst Chloé's high-low amber dress brought out her eyes.

Sabrina had a purple two-piece and Myléne had a green floor-length dress.

For the boys she made suits with their own flare, to avoid a uniform look.

She even made Lila a dress, but the girl refused to wear it in favour of a dress she bought during one of her 'college tours'.

…..

"My father will be furious when he learns that I went to a Wayne party in clothes that he didn't make," Adrien joked with Marinette and Chloé.

Lila let a shark grin take over, "Oh, Adrien, you shouldn't let Marinette get you in trouble. They're only clothes. Maybe you should change. Maybe we should all change, just in case."

Adrien shook his head whilst waving Chloé off, "No, Lila. I was only joking."

(For once, Lila was right. Gabriel was furious that his clothes didn't get into a Wayne party but a teenage girl's did. But it wasn't like he could do anything about it, while they were in America)

…..

When the class exited their stretch limo. The paparazzi outside the Manor ooh'd at their clothes. Lila decided to go last just so her outfit can have the most climactic admiration.

When Marinette stepped out, wearing a navy halter high-low with sparkly stones sewn in a way that emulated the night sky, the crowd shushed.

Marinette was about to hide her face in embarrassment, 'They don't like my dress.'

Suddenly, the crowd broke into whispers of curiosity and admiration.

"Look at her dress. It's gorgeous."

"Is that an MDC original?"

"Is that MDC herself?"

Lila smiled, 'If these guys think her dress is nice. Wait till they see mine.'

She stepped out and, well, it was anticlimactic.

The praise slowed and turned into more of a polite murmur.

"Oh her dress is… nice."

Her dress was a grey spaghetti strap that went to her knees. It was actually a nice dress but it was not formal at all and made Lila stick out like a sore thumb.

'I should have just taken Dupain-Cheng' s stupid dress.'

…..

As the class entered the Manor, they were greeted by a young man, who Marinette and Chloé both recognised from their Business class in Gotham U.

"Tim? I didn't know you'd be here?"

Tim laughed gently, "Well, it's kind of my family's party so I have to be here. Trust me I'd rather be anywhere else."

Chloé smirked, "Oh, you're a Wayne? Lila here, used to date one of you. Tom was it, Lila?"

Lila shrunk back, "Oh no! You must have misheard me. I never said I dated a Wayne."

"Yes, you did."

Everyone turned to look at Max, "I have an eidetic memory and you definitely said, and I quote, 'I have this story about this family from Gotham. You probably haven't heard of them, but they're a big deal over there. The Waynes. I even dated one of them. Tom'."

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion, "Well actually that's a coincidence, I also have an eidetic memory and we don't have a Tom. We have a Tim, and that's me. And I've never dated a Lila."

The class had varying facial expressions, but all of them had one emotion in common. Hurt.

Rose gently pushed out, "Were you… Lying to us, Lila?"

"No, I-I wasn't, I just-"

Alya almost cried, "I almost cost my whole journalistic career for you! Marinette stopped me from posting about you onto the Ladyblog. If she wasn't there, I would be ruined!"

The class all came to their own realisations.

"If Marinette didn't send off my application, instead of letting me rely on you--"

"If she didn't push us to continue--"

"Marinette knew and we didn't believe her," Nino said, "I'm very sorry, Marinette."

"Me too!"

"Same."

"Yeah."

She smiled at them graciously, "It's alright, guys! You learnt in the end and you didn't know any better."

Lila looked around frantically, "Why isn't the spell working? It should be working!"

"Spell?"

Alya walked forward, "Lila, what spell?"

Chloé spoke up, "She was given the power to make anyone believe her lies, unless they have been given undeniable proof."

The class looked at her in confusion.

"Hey, I actually knew Ladybug, remember! Unlike her."

…..

Tim sat beside Marinette, "So…"

"My classmate has been lying about famous people including your family for years?"

"And…"

"She keeps her victims under a spell, so they can't learn the truth."

"... Ladybug?"

Marinette grinned, "One of our superheroes. Chloé used to be one and revealed her identity. She isn't anymore."

His face was scrunched in confusion, "You know, Gotham is really fucking weird but I've never heard anything like that."

"Eidetic memory?"

Tim sighed, "I am technically, kind of, very much knowledgeable on… Things."

She smirked, " 'Things'. Timothy you are so very specific," She teased, "I don't even need you to clarify."

He knocked her shoulder against hers, "I've been meaning to ask…"

"Oh more than usual?"

"Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Marinette. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to dance."

He held out his hand.

Gently she took it, "I'd love to!"

Tim looked down at Marinette's dress, "Is that an MDC original? I love her work! Where did you get it?"

Marinette deadpanned, "What are my initials Tim."

"... OH!"

"Do you not have Twitter? People have been tagging me all month."

Tim smiled sheepishly, "Okay to be fair, I'm a dumbass and my pregame to any events like this is to drink a shit ton of coffee every day for a month."

A man who very obviously knew Tim walked by and looked at him incredulously, "Tim, that's your pregame to waking up every morning!"

Tim glared at him, "Fuck off, Jason!"

@timari-month-event

Buy me a coffee?

#i spent so long on this #*throws this into crowd* APPRECIATE ME! #timari #Timari January #Timari Month #Day 6 Fame #buy me a coffee #Pls #i'm poor #Commission me if you like this lmao

[trellanyx]

Dark!Stolas AU

I started to send a prompt to @vizowrites​ after reading the latest installment of her Dark!Stolas AU, then realized I wanted to write it instead. lol This is meant to be a direct sequel to Where You Belong. Thanks for letting me play in the sandbox for a bit bb!

Fic Warnings: This is an AU where Blitzo does not want to have sex with Stolas, and only does so in order to have continued access to the grimoire. Stolas has no qualms about using this leverage to keep Blitzo in line, or ignoring Blitzo’s boundaries. Nothing sexual happens in this fic, but if you don’t like reading fics based off this premise, this isn’t for you. Like the title says, Stolas is not a good person here.

“And you,” Stolas said, his gaze flashing back to Striker with a near break-neck speed, flashing in a surge of barely contained power that still seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. “While I admire that terribly forceful nature of yours, I highly suggest that you remember just to whom you are speaking. And just to whom you owe your continued opportunities that keep your schedules oh so busy. Which reminds me, darling Blitzy….bring the book with you to our next meeting.”

“Blitzy! There you are, darling.”

Regrettably, Blitzo thought. He placed the book on its usual place on the nightstand and shucked off his coat. Stolas loved it when his favorite toy showed such ‘enthusiasm’, not noticing, or perhaps not caring, that Blitzo’s only motivation was to get the night over with as quickly as possible.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

“Look, can we skip the roleplay tonight? My back has been bitching at me all day.”

Stolas giggled. “Ah yes. Isn’t that post-coital ache just delightful? I know my best mornings always happen when I can’t walk straight.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. In the beginning, he’d respond to comments like that with something along the lines of, “I hear a good ass whooping produces the same result”, but Stolas always interpreted those retorts as encouragement, and Blitzo eventually stopped bothering. He nodded to where Stolas was decadently sprawled along a twilight-violet chaise. “That the spot you’ve decided on?”

“As thrilling as it is to be the center of such undivided attention,” purred Stolas, “I’d actually prefer we take things slower tonight. It feels like ages since we’ve had the chance to simply…talk.” Stolas’s eyes gleamed scarlet, all four of them pinned directly on Blitzo. “Given both of our busy schedules, after all.”

Blitzo stiffened, feeling his stomach shrivel with a sudden chill of terror.

“Stolas--”

“Sit, please,” said the prince, waving a hand at a matching armchair Blitzo knew hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I’m as eager to receive your glorious cock as you are to give it to me, but another need must be satisfied first.”

The words tumbled out of Blitzo so quickly they nearly slurred together. “If this is about what happened at the office, I swear--”

“I said sit.”

Blitzo’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. He power-walked to the chair, unwilling to risk finding out what Stolas might do if he thought Blitzo was taking too long. But Stolas only giggled again, as if seeing Blitzo so flustered was cute.

“Though since you bring it up, I would like to discuss what happened when I last tried to visit you. I fear there may be some…misunderstanding among your employees about just what our relationship is like, Blitzy.”

“We don’t have a relationship, Stolas,” snapped Blitzo. “We have an arrangement. I fuck you, you don’t fuck over my business. Cut and fucking dry.”

Stolas clucked his tongue. “Blitzy, we are lovers. You could at least try to put in a little romantic effort outside the bedroom.”

Blitzo bared his teeth. “I’m plenty romantic,” he said, in a moment of reckless defiance. “Just not with you.”

Stolas blinked, and Blitzo nearly bit through his own tongue. He did not, however, take back the words. He was engaged now, for fuck’s sake. And the memory of his fiancé almost spitting in the eyes of demon royalty was enough to give Blitzo just enough courage to wipe out his remaining fucks.

You wanna talk, bitch? Fine. Let’s talk.

Stolas tapped a claw against his thigh. “Are you now?” he asked, terribly soft. Blitzo opened his mouth to snarl back, but it hung open when Stolas suddenly beamed and said, “Why Blitzy, that’s wonderful!”

“….It is?”

“Of course!” trilled Stolas. “I’m so happy to hear there are other paramours in your life! Not surprised, of course, my dear little imp. Who could possibly resist such a beautiful and wickedly talented creature like yourself?” He laughed gaily. “I wondered why that fiery little fellow seemed so testy last we met. Jealousy, hm?” Stolas gave a sage little hoot. “I understand, Blitzy. Love makes fools of us all.”

Blitzo couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Striker, jealous of you? Listen bitch--”

“Blitzy, darling, it’s alright,” Stolas soothed. “I understand.”

Blitzo raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Do ya now?

“It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened over our little courtship,” said Stolas, still smiling. “At least he didn’t throw something at me! Poor Seymour,” he sighed. “Two centuries of care, gone in a blink and a crash. Fortunately my reflexes are better than my wife’s aim!”

“…Am I on drugs?” Blitzo wondered. “Is Verosika about to pop out with a horse head or somethin’? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie, that’d actually be a pretty sweet upgrade for her.”

“Silly imp,” giggled Stolas. “Well! Now that that little bit of unpleasantness has been cleared up, I say we move on to more enjoyable activities. How about some refreshments before we start?”

Blitzo withheld a groan. Feeding each other was one of Stolas’s favorite forms of foreplay. He’d constantly nip at or suck on Blitzo’s fingers, to say nothing of how often he’d pretend to feed Blitzo a strawberry or something before replacing it with his mouth at the last second. But if it got Stolas to stop asking questions about his and Striker’s relationship, Blitzo was up for anything.

“Just no strawberries, okay? Last time they made me break out in hives.”

“Alas, tonight I’m simply thirsty.” Stolas pulled a silver bell from his robe and gave it a dainty ring. Then he winked at Blitzo and added, “Of course, that’s always my mood when you’re on my mind.”

A servant imp appeared almost instantaneously, carrying a tray with two shimmering glasses of wine.

“I really do feel much better now,” said Stolas, taking his glass.

“Good for you,” deadpanned Blitzo as the servant turned his way. “Now can we get on with--”

CRASH!

“FUCK!” Blitzo scrambled backward, tripping over the arm of the chair and falling onto the floor. His claws scratched the tile as he scooted backwards on his ass, away from the servant who was now a solid block of stone. Blitzo’s wineglass was shattered on the ground. Why…why did it look like the exact shade of blood?

Stolas took a long, indulgent sip of his own wine. “Wiggles, this is Blitzy. Blitzy, Wiggles.”

“Stolas, what the fuck?!”

“Wiggles hasn’t been with me as long as Seymour was,” Stolas continued, not needing to raise his voice to talk over Blitzo’s panicked yelling. “I daresay Wiggles isn’t even his name, but that’s neither here nor there.”

The prince unfolded his unnaturally long legs and walked around the statue of Wiggles. “He’s a good servant, as far as imps go. Obedient, polite, deferential…he knows his place in the world and is content with it. Like Seymour was.” Stolas placed a hand on the top of Wiggles’s stone head. “And like Seymour…”

Blitzo realized what was coming a split second too late. “DON’T--!”

Stolas lightly pushed, and Wiggles fell forward. There was a sick crack when the statue hit the ground, and Blitzo watched in horror as Wiggles’s now detached head lay face-first in the puddle of wine. Stolas waved his hand, and the rest of the body crumbled into dust and rubble.

“Gone in a blink and a crash,” finished Stolas.

There was no flirting or good-natured silliness to Stolas now. He stared down at Blitzo with cold disappointment. Blitzo barely dared to breathe, let alone move.

“Let’s not forget what our actual roles are, my precious little imp,” murmured Stolas. “You are exceedingly good at what you can do with your body, and because of that, I allow your little family venture to succeed. Every time you rendezvous with the world above, you pay your way with my magic. Your daughter sleeps under a roof built from my generosity. Your lover fucks you in a bed gifted by my mercy. I could rip everything away from you, Blitzo. Everything you’ve ever touched. I wouldn’t even have to leave this room.”

Stolas knelt down, ignoring the way Blitzo flinched back. “But I don’t do that, darling. Because I love you. You’ve brought excitement and joy back into my world the likes of which I haven’t felt since my daughter was born. Of all my collections and all of my toys, you are my favorite.”

A crimson glow slowly bled into existence until it outlined Stolas’s entire body. Blitzo couldn’t look away from him, and wasn’t entirely sure that Stolas wasn’t making that possible. The air seemed to constrict around him, making his temples pound and his nose bleed.

“What you do with your time is your own business, Blitzo. But when I call on you, full moon or not, I expect you to answer,” whispered Stolas. The use of Blitzo’s full name stung him like a brand. “When I ask for privacy, I expect to not be interrupted. Above all, I expect you to make sure your associates know their place around us – and mind it. Do you understand?”

Blitzo jerked his head in as much of a nod as he could manage.

“They may hiss and spit all they like, but they will stay out of our way. Else I will remove them myself, and I will make you watch. Do you understand?”

Another nod.

“Say it, Blitzy.”

“…I understand,” said Blitzo through gritted teeth. The moment he did, the air returned to normal, leaving Blitzo gasping for air like a drowning man. Stolas finished his wine, and looked out the balcony window behind Blitzo.

“Ah! And there’s the moon. What a beautiful sight – not as lovely as you, of course.” Stolas cupped Blitzo’s cheek, looking at him with a familiar expression of lust. “Come darling,” he purred. “The night is still young, after all.”

#helluva boss #blitzo #stolas #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss blitzo #vizowrites #felt like stretching my evil writing muscles lol #thanks for letting me borrow him vizo! #does blitzo try to lay low or does he immediately go home that night like BABE GET YER RIFLE WE'RE GOING OWL HUNTING #it's up to you XD

[notchesandbullets]

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Art credits: @floatzxs​

Part 11: Internship with Hound Dog, Aizawa’s totally not jealous. You and Shinsou get along great, except when you don’t. Kayama and Yamada’s endless teasing of Aizawa who’s turned into a total dad to you both. Heavily inspired by the picture above.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aizawa didn't like it.

You were getting way too close to the Hound Dog. He watched as you threw your head back and laughed at something he said, running around in circles around the pro-hero you were doing your internship under.

Yup, definitely way too close.

He tried to convince himself it wasn't because he was jealous. After all, you were the only one he called 'dad', right?

That had to mean something

He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a frustrated sigh. Seriously, he was being too irrational.

You were on a security patrol with Hound Dog on campus, the hybrid teaching you how to put your enhanced senses to good use, looking for discrepancies in the air on a whim.

Aizawa knew you weren't going to ask him for him to take care of you and train you. You already knew he was busy with Shinsou, that kid in your general studies with a brainwashing quirk.

Sure, the two of you hit it off, his endless sarcasm and attitude bringing you out of your shell and causing the two of you to banter back and forth every time you were in the same vicinity.

It drove him up a wall.

But it was because you saw how much time he was dedicating to Shinsou that he knew you weren't going to ask him to train you as well.

So when Hound Dog extended you an opportunity for an internship, Aizawa couldn't turn you down once you turned those shining eyes on him.

You were all too eager when you asked him for permission, bouncing up and down the entire time you told him about it. He was pretty sure you made a point about it being a good way to prepare for the Quirk Traffickers just in case and that's what made him finally agree.

He never regretted the decision more.

Look, it wasn't because he didn't want you to get strong. Quite the opposite, in fact. You both had already been through all that and he didn't wasn't keen on the same misunderstanding happening again.

But he didn't see why it had to be with Hound Dog of all heroes.

True, your quirks were somewhat similar. And you seemed to get along really well. Not as well as you and him but it was decent enough.

Oh.

He stopped and stared.

I'm jealous, aren't I?

Turning away with a sigh, he headed back to his office. He had papers to grade and rowdy students to round up.

Several yards away, You danced rings around Hound Dog, waving your hands around excitedly.

He had been the one to help you design your hero costume. Clothing that was sleek enough to give you a speed advantage and a pattern that could conform to your surroundings would help you blend in with your environment without any trouble.

The utility belt around your hips held several throwing knives to make up for your lack of long-distance combat ability and canisters of ointment so you could administer first-aid on sight. Credits of the idea went to Todoroki when he showed you his one evening when you asked just before sparring.

Your shoulders and legs were built to withstand severe impacts, making you able to run faster and for longer periods of time without wearing them down.

Hound Dog had recommended combat boots and braces to reduce the strain on your muscles for your arms and legs while you engaged in combat, making it easier to fight knowing that you didn't have to worry too much about the repercussions.

Hatsume was a little too eager when she gave them your requested upgrades but that girl was damn gifted so you didn't complain.

"Watch out for that wire." Hound Dog barked at you as you aimlessly almost crashed into a tree.

It wouldn't do anything except set off an alarm and put up UA's defense grid. Which is why he couldn't have you tip it off.

The pro-hero shook his head as you righted yourself sheepishly. You were like a pup, literally. Still, it was rather endearing. He didn't have any children but if he did, he reckoned that they'd be a lot like you.

"Eraser's kid, come on." He growled and you pouted, stomping your foot childishly.

"I have a name!!" You huffed, hands on your hips indignantly.

"Yeah, Eraser's kid. Now let's go." He ordered and you passed by him with a small frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rude.

You were happy though. After all this time, you had someone you could call dad. It was weird but in a homely sort of sense. You rather liked it.

The two of you patrolled UA's grounds without much trouble. He taught you the route to take as well as escape paths in place if you ever found yourself in a tough situation you couldn't get out of.

UA's sensors were top-grade, one of the best security systems in the country, but he had to prepare you for all scenarios. Just in case.

You padded behind him as you made your way through the thicket that surrounded the school, thanking him as he helped you pick your way through the forest.

There were a bunch of hidden traps and you were surprised when he told you the reason behind it.

"UA's been reforming security since the USJ incident." Hound Dog snarled in what you figured to be equal parts anger and irritation. "Remember, if you're going to go anywhere after hours for any reason, you must have a guardian with you, is that clear?"

You nodded firmly, unfazed by his aggression. It wasn't like you had thought about breaking the rules, even if there was a certain charm to it that enticed you, you were sure it would give Aizawa and Ojiro a heart attack.

Soon, it was time for a lunch break.

You were pretty surprised when he suggested a hunt but were extremely enthusiastic at the prospect of satisfying your instincts. The urge to maul and maim only came about if you were starving and even then, it was still possible to suppress it if you concentrated long enough.

Creeping around a tree, you utilized the foliage as a cover as you crept up on an unsuspecting prey.

You didn't make a sound as you crouched down, hiding between the blades of grass. Your lips drew back in a snarl as you locked on your target, springing on it and catching it by surprise. With one swipe, you killed it and took it in your jaws to carry back to where Hound Dog was.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you practically pranced over to him, beaming proudly at your first kill in a decade.

It had been far too long since you had a fresh kill.

You licked your lips as soon as you set it down in front of him as some sort of peace offering, wagging your tail as you waited for him to say something.

But you shrunk back and whimpered as he glared at you.

"Sloppy!!!" He bellowed, howling with spit spraying from his muzzled mouth. "Your control needs work!!!"

Your ears drooped and your eyes saddened but you nodded meekly.

Hound Dog sat back on his hunches. He had watched you closely while you hunted and seen what you could improve on.

"You need to work on your patience." He growled out gruffly and huffed when you fixated your large eyes on him. "You almost let it escape. Just because you were able to pin it down in time doesn't mean you did it right!! That was only the result!!"

You hung onto his advice, finding it sound beneath his brash way of wording it and trying to learn as much out of it as you can.

"You're fast but you're not as strong yet." Hound Dog stated, pointing to the shoes on your feet. "Hatsume made those specifically for your speed so your surprise attack should come from behind, not the front."

He scratched his head, grumbling out reluctantly, "But it wasn't bad for your first kill."

You sat up straighter at the begrudging praise, eyes shining and a huge smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Grrrr, but don't let it go to your head!!!" He snapped, pushing your fresh kill towards you so that you could eat it.

Your smile got impossibly wider and you nodded so fast your ears flopped back and forth.

"Eraser's kid, huh?" Hound Dog mused to himself as he collected firewood so that you could cook it.

Although the both of you could eat it raw, you both preferred it cooked unless you were in a particularly savage mood.

He huffed as he gathered a bunch of sticks for kindling.

"She's already strong."

After school let out, you walked home with your purple-haired friend from your general studies class. Annoying little brat.

You found out in a very short period of time that you could not stand him when he got like this. Ever since he found out about your little crush on Ojiro, he hadn't let up.

"Don't you dare." You seethed through clenched teeth as he dangled your notebook in front of your face. "Shinsou, I'm warning you."

The two of you were sitting in Aizawa's living room area. School had let out an hour ago and knowing that your teacher/parental guardian would be going home for the weekend, you two had decided to tag along and bug him.

Unable to get rid of the two of you annoying leeches, Aizawa had firmly instructed the two of you to at least get started on your homework if you were going to be here.

An array of textbooks spread out in front of you while the TV played in the background. You had studied and got through a decent amount of reading but that had only worked for all of ten minutes.

Shinsou smirked, keeping it high above his head. "If you want it, come and get it."

You snarled, pouncing on him before he could blink. The one good thing about the way his quirk worked was that you had to answer his question or jib. It was good because you only ever growled at him when he got like this.

He shoved your face and you whined as your fingertips brushed your notebook, licking his hand.

Shinsou recoiled in disgust. "Ew, Y/N!! That's so gross!!!"

"Serves you right!!" You quipped, grabbing at the spiral that was kept out of your reach. "Give it backkkkk."

"Oh no," He said with a smug smirk. "Not until I see just how many times you wrote Y/N x Mashirao with hearts drawn around it in here."

Before he could follow through with that threat, the notebook was snatched from his hand, the cry of outrage dying on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes flickered up to your dad who was now hovering above the both of you. You hadn't even heard him come in.

He was dressed casually, his hair pulled back away from his face, revealing his scar that he had gotten when the League attacked his students and instead of his hero costume, he was wearing sweatpants and a black, long-sleeved shirt.

Coffee, his tortoiseshell cat, purred at his feet as he fixated a glare on the two of you for not behaving.

"If you have time to play around then maybe you'd like more work to do." Aizawa threatened Shinsou before turning to you. "And you should know by now not to respond to him when he's like that, he's just provoking you."

You hung your head, pushing out your bottom lip as far as it would go.

He sighed, walking over and patting your head. "It's alright, kid. I know you're just playing."

You tail thumped happily in response at being let off the hook.

Shinsou's mouth twisted down into a frown. "Hey, why are you coddling her and not me?"

Aizawa promptly smacked him over the head and the teen winced at the brute force that his mentor delivered.

"Because she's been through a lot and you're being a cheeky brat." He deadpanned.

You flinched as Shinsou turned his sharp glare on you, but relaxed when you saw him soften slightly, letting you know that he was just teasing. Wiggling your eyebrows playfully, you snickered but hid it quickly as Aizawa's attention snapped to you next.

"Oi, you two better get along." Aizawa ordered, turning to leave the room to go back to where Kayama and Yamada were at. "If I hear one peep out of either of you, there will be consequences."

"Yes, sensei." You both chorused together, but not before sharing an evil look with each other that passed under his radar as he left to continue the conference.

The second he stepped out, all hell broke loose.

Your eyes shot to him when he stood up, taking up the practiced stance Aizawa had been teaching him, gesturing for you to do the same. You popped up to your feet but you didn't get a chance to swing as he rushed at you.

"Don't you even think about— SHINSOU, YOU IDIOT!!!!!"

Your shriek carried clearly to the other room and the three teachers sitting in Aizawa's office.

"Aw, isn't that precious." Kayama cooed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand and drummed her fingers on the table she was sitting at.

Yamada was sprawled upside down on his couch, nearly falling off and crashing to the ground when the shared wall between you guys and them shook.

"Uh, Shouta." He called to his best friend as he sighed in exasperation, the underground hero pinching the bridge of his nose. "Aren't you going to take care of that?"

Aizawa groaned, his head lolling back to thump against the opposite wall. "I'm too tired for this."

Kayama's grin grew mischievous and her eyes sparkled. "Shouta, they're your children for goodness sake!!"

Yamada matched her crazy smile and he flailed a bit before getting the right equilibrium to sit up straight. "He's a dad!! It finally happened!!!"

The rugged underground hero threw a pillow at both of their faces to get them to stop laughing as his best friends chortled obnoxiously.

"Shut up." He grumbled, throwing an arm across his face.

He flinched as the racket kicked up from the living room suddenly stopped at the sound of a very loud crash.

Aizawa stalked towards the door and ripped it open, narrowing his eyes until they became slits. "If they broke anything..."

The other two shared a knowing glance with each other.

"He's going to chew them out for messing up his living room." Kayama gloated, bounding over to peek outside so she could see what was going on.

Yamada skipped over, tripping over his feet in his haste to not be left behind. "Then he's going to feel bad and then he's going to leave and let them do it again."

"Discipline, Shouta," Kayama tsked as she murmured. "You need to discipline them."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he commented, "That sounds a little weird coming from you, Nemuri."

"Oh hush!!" She snapped, smacking him on the arm so hard that he yelped. "Not like that!!"

Her energy and bubbly nature resurfaced as she heard Aizawa doing exactly what she and Yamada panned out.

"He's such a dad." She crooned, wanting to see how you were wrapping him around your finger this time around.

It always was the most entertaining thing, seeing her stoic best friend crumble underneath your adorable pouts and watery puppy eyes. It never failed to force Aizawa to throw up his hands and give into you.

Soft Dadzawa was the best.

You and Shinsou lowered your heads as Aizawa strictly admonished the two of you.

The once clean and tidy living room had been thrown out of order and you had feathers in your hair. You weren't exactly sure how Shinsou managed to rip the pillow as he was throwing at you, but you weren't keen on finding out now.

You yelped in pain as Aizawa smacked you upside the head, giving the same treatment to the sheepish-looking boy next to you.

"Honestly." Aizawa exhaled forcefully, gripping his head, frustration coming through clear. "What am I going to do with the two of you..."

You grinned but bit your lip when he shot you a glare, blinking up innocently at him.

Shinsou chuckled, petting Coffee nonchalantly as she climbed into his lap, smiling as the cat purred, loving the attention he gave her.

Aizawa sighed, done for now. He had things he had to finish so that the two loudmouths waiting in his office would leave. He wanted to sleep.

"Thirty minutes."

You and Shinsou straightened up at the tiredness in his voice, casting a slightly worried look between the two of you. You had heard him angry and frustrated but never tired like this. He must really be exhausted.

Aizawa took no notice of the silent dialogue between the two of you. "Can you two please behave for that long?"

He was surprised when there was no snark from Shinsou or witty answer from you as the two of you bowed at him but thought nothing of it as he left the room once more.

If either of you kicked up a racket like that again, he would send Yamada out to deal with you.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the two of you were up on your feet but now for another reason entirely.

"Where is it?" You asked, looking in every cabinet but coming up short.

"Here."

You caught what Shinsou tossed you, nodding in thanks. Opening the garbage bag, you got to work, picking up what you had broken while he grabbed a broom and swept up the feathers littering the floor.

In all of ten minutes, everything was cleaned and put back in its original position and the two of you returned to your studies.

Aizawa was shocked to find you in that same position another twenty minutes later when he was showing his nosy colleagues out the door but didn't comment on it, merely shoved Kayama out when she cooed at how cute you two were.

She tried to whine in protest. "But Shouta—"

"Get lost, Nemuri."

Shinsou frowned as Coffee jumped up from his lap as the door slammed closed, making her way over to Aizawa.

"Mean." He said under his breath, making you laugh.

You closed your notes and textbook, done for the day. Packing them away, you noticed Shinsou had finished, too.

"Want to walk back together?" You asked.

He snorted, smirking at you. "No."

You stuck out your tongue, puffing out your cheeks at him. "Rude."

He ruffled your hair and you scowled, swiping at him but he darted out of reach before you could grab him. You two squabbled all the way to the front door, just about to put on your shoes when there came a quiet murmur from the edge of the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?"

You froze and Shinsou cocked his head, turning around slowly. Aizawa's frame was braced against the corner of the wall somehow when you weren't paying attention, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing countless scars and a lot more muscle than you originally thought.

His eyes narrowed at his students. "You two didn't eat yet."

"Ah..." Shinsou winced. "It's alright, sensei, I have some food back at the dorm."

Without changing your expression, you deadpanned. "He's lying."

"Y/N!!!"

Squealing as he charged at you, you launched yourself into your dad's chest, hoping he would protect you.

"Dad, Toshi's being mean again!!!" You cried as Shinsou chased you.

"Get back here!!" Shinsou mock snarled, snapping his teeth at you.

You clutched on tighter to Aizawa's shirt, sending him a pleading look.

He sighed but even you could tell he was holding back a smile as he put an arm around you while warding off his student with the other.

You slyly stuck your tongue out at the defeated brainwashing kid but your dad caught the action.

"Y/N..." He warned. "Don't instigate."

"Yes, Dad." You said seriously, snuggling into his side before peering back up at him. "Can Toshi stay for dinner?"

You already knew he wanted to cook for you. That much was evident when he asked if you had eaten yet. He had this uncanny habit of doing things indirectly and with how much you knew Shinsou was like him, you knew if you called him out on it, the two would flatly deny that that's what he meant.

Better to play along.

Not that you were complaining. Aizawa's home cooking was actually really good, when he had the time and energy for it. Usually, you did most of the cooking, having enough skills thanks to Sato to make things that were edible.

"Only if he wants to." Aizawa told you before glancing up at Shinsou shuffling his feet awkwardly. "You're more than welcome to, kid."

Shinsou didn't say anything at first but he moved closer to you guys, away from the front door.

"Are you sure, sensei?" He asked, a hint of worry swimming in the depths of his eyes, afraid he wasn't being genuine.

That he was only asking out of politeness and that he didn't really want him there. But looking at you, he only saw pure, radiating hope in your gaze.

You were being honest with him and though Aizawa's was vastly more subtle, he saw the truth in his teacher's eyes, too.

Shinsou nodded hesitantly, his own way of answering and you beamed.

"Great!! I'll get started!!"

You dashed into the kitchen, pulling out the vegetables and started the fire to get the water boiling for the noodles. Your dad had already pulled out and marinated the meat for tonight, all that was left was to cook it.

But in all your excitement, you were moving a little too fast.

Aizawa stiffened, then shook his head as another crash could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a sheepish 'oops'.

He crossed his arms over his chest, already making his way over to where Shinsou couldn't see. "Kid..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!!" You blurted out.

Pouting as you were banned from the kitchen anyways, you skipped over to where Shinsou was awkwardly sitting on a chair by the table. He looked so uncomfortable.

You frowned, then beamed as a light bulb went off in your head.

He leaned back warily as he saw the glint of mischief in your eyes as you came closer. "What are you doing?"

"Aw, you don't trust me?" You asked playfully.

"Never." He retorted and you pouted childishly.

"Meanie."

He waved you off but you could already tell he was much more relaxed than before. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, what did you want?"

You gestured for him to come closer so your dad wouldn't hear and whispered in his ear. "I know where he keeps his capture weapon and goggles."

Shinsou tried but even he couldn't wipe the excitement off his face fast enough. He never told you but he was a hardcore Eraserhead fan, even before coming to UA. Since he was an underground hero, there was no media coverage on him, no merchandise to be sold in stores but he knew.

Aizawa had saved him once, a long time ago.

His parents were rich and completely absent from his life. He didn't grow up with a family because they were never around and he didn't grow up with friends because of his quirk.

Independent from a young age, he had distanced himself from almost everybody, living a life of solitude no matter how many presents his parents tried to throw at him to buy his love.

He was glad that he moved out of their ridiculous mansion ages ago, moving in with a cousin until he was old enough to live on his own, but what he didn't plan on was being attacked by a villain one day as he was walking home from school.

Aizawa had saved him back then, acting quickly to rescue him and take down the other.

Shinsou once questioned that if this hero knew back then how villainous his quirk was, would he have saved him?

Of course he would have. And that's what spurred on his decision, his path that he wanted to take.

All because of Eraserhead.

It thrilled him when his hero, his idol himself, offered to train and teach him personally how to become a hero before his transfer into the hero course. When he approached him after the sports festival, he almost passed out right then and there.

That must have been what a lot of people experienced towards All Might.

He never talked about his admiration of him before though, so you must've been much more observant than he gave you credit for.

Shinsou attempted to look disinterested at your proposal. "Really?"

Your grin grew wider and you grabbed his hand, hauling him up out of the chair as you snuck into Aizawa's room. You knew how much he wanted to see them up close and try them out, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

"Come on!!" You giggled, ushering him inside quickly and digging into the nightstand by the futon.

Needless to say, when Aizawa found the two of you once dinner was ready, Shinsou was caught red-handed with his capture weapon on and his trademark goggles on his face.

Even with both the scarf and goggles covering his face, you could still see him turn bright red as he was caught by his mentor.

"Don't worry!!" You threw over your shoulder as you flounced away, leaving the two of them alone. "He's not mad!!"

Shinsou tensed as the door closed behind you, ripping off everything as fast as he could even though it would've prevented what had already been done. A hand on his shoulder halted him.

Aizawa's mouth twitched and his gaze held a glimmer of amusement. "Cool, right?"

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Shinsou nodded and apologized for trying them on without his permission, embarrassed beyond belief.

The older man tried to soothe his worries by casting him a purposeful look. "You know, it might come in handy later on."

Tucking away his capture weapon and goggles, Aizawa pretended not to notice how Shinsou's jaw dropped in shock at what he was suggesting for him.

"If you go to the Development Studio, I'm sure they could make something similar for you." He told him while suppressing a proud smile.

He had come so far since the Sports Festival. He had trained hard on his own and while he was already proud of him for all his efforts and his drive, to have him admire a gruff, anti-social man like him sent warmth blooming in his chest.

Shinsou couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Would...."

He swallowed thickly, pushing aside his pride and the remnants of his embarrassment.

"Would you teach me how to fight with it?"

Aizawa's mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Sure thing, kid."

Shinsou thought that was the last behind him when he followed his mentor out the door to go eat the dinner waiting for them. You were already at the table, portions served out, kicking your feet as you waited impatiently for them.

But Aizawa wasn't finished.

"The goggles suited you." He commented nonchalantly, causing the boy's face to flush in embarrassment once again.

"Aizawa-sensei!!" Shinsou protested.

You doubled over, clutching your stomach. "Good one, Dad!!!"

Looking on fondly as the two of you began to bicker, you teasing Shinsou and him furiously defending whatever dignity he had left, Aizawa's smile softened.

You two.

He guessed he didn't mind that it was the two of you.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel​

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #ojiro x reader #ojiro x reader fanfiction #aizawa #dadzawa #soft aizawa #platonic aizawa x shinsou #shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #ojiro mashirao #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #kayama nemuri #midnight #present mic #eraserhead #platonic aizawa x reader #soft dadzawa #ojiro fluff #shinsou sibling #shinsou banter

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 16

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 16

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1754

Summary: Some of Sam’s efforts to ‘nest’ in their new life together reveal new possibilities.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           Water laps at the weather-beaten wood of the dock underneath you slowly and the rhythm feels like hypnosis with the sun beating down a blanket. You sense Dean at your side without opening your eyes.

           “So…was he any good?”

           You can’t help but laugh, hearing the echo go out over the small lake, and get up to your elbows. It’s bright enough that you have to squint over at Dean where he lays next to a couple fishing poles and a cooler, t shirt hitched up to show a sliver of his stomach with his arms behind his head. His smile is devilish, made even more smug with eyes closed against the sun so his lashes cast an inch-long shadow on the dusting of freckles across his cheeks. “You can’t ask that!” you giggle.

           His lips flatten into a knowing line. “So that’s a no?”

           “Jesus Christ, of course it’s not a n—you know what, I’m not talking to you about this,” you smile, laying back down.

           “Ooh, so it’s a yes,” he teases as he turns on his side to face you. “Go Sammy. That mean you two are, like, going steady now?”

           You let your head loll over to him and roll your eyes. “Are you done?”

           “Not yet. Is he going to let you wear his letterman jacket? Take you to junior prom?”

           “I’m giving you ten more seconds.”

           Dean laughs, free and easy. “Fine, okay, I’m done. Wait—did he wrap it?”

           “DEAN!” you yell, covering your face in embarrassment.

           “Okay, alright, okay.” He’s still chuckling when you open your eyes to look over at him and reaches over to slip a piece of hair behind your ear. “You, ah, you seem happy.”

           You search his eyes for any hidden anger and find only the softness of calm affection with a pinch of solemnity. Where his hand lingers in your hair you turn into it, pressing your lips to Dean’s palm. “I am.”

           Dean smiles, straight teeth a perfect row of pearls so white you think for a second they might ‘ding’ with sparkle like a cartoon, and he looks relaxed enough as he puts his hands back behind his head that it calls up images of a kitten falling asleep in a sunny spot like this even as he keeps his eyes on you. “Took you guys long enough.”

           “And you’re still okay with this?”

           “Yeah, hell yeah. That’s the best I could ever ask for, you two happy. So, what do you say? Want to see if we can catch some fish?”

           Spring was a blessing; clean greenness breaking through the grey and white purifying the air and breathing new life into you, Sam, and the community you’d come to be a part of. The cabin was that much nicer with the new hours of sunlight pouring through the windows and all the upgrades you had put into it, to the point that you began to feel truly comfortable there. You even invited the Kaisers over for dinner a few times, feeling more like equal partners in your burgeoning friendship with them.

           You started to feel stable enough to get things; picked up a bookshelf at the combination flea/farmer’s market that happened in the K-12 school’s field every Saturday morning and got higher quality spatulas to cook with, the kinds of nonessential stuff you never would’ve bought before knowing you were going to stay in one place long enough to get good use out of them. Sam, in turn, kept building: changing the locks to sturdier ones and erecting a shed big enough to hold a lawn mower.

           You’d been cooking on an early Sunday afternoon when Sam came home and crossed the cabin in a few strides, giving you a kiss on the cheek before setting a thick paper bag down on the kitchen counter. “Smells great, what’re you making?”

           “Ratatouille!” you buzzed, placing a slice of eggplant carefully into its slot. “I’ve never had it, but I’ve always thought it looks so pretty. Hopefully it’s good. Where were you?”

           “Hardware store. I thought maybe I could build a greenhouse; see if we could grow anything. Might be enough to work against the cold.”

           You raised your eyebrows in appreciative surprise. “Look at you! What’re you thinking? Poppies? Platinum OG? Purple Haze?”

           Setting a box of screws down, Sam rolled his eyes through a smile. “My plan was more along the lines of tomatoes or something, but I’ll, uh, take those suggestions under advisement.” You had a sudden urge to twist a gentle finger into the dimple that stayed on his cheek as he unloaded the rest of his supplies but didn’t want to embarrass him, instead sweeping some garlic skins into your hand to throw into the small bucket Sam kept under the sink to collect scraps for the compost pile. When the bag was empty he refolded it and took off his jacket, passing by you to put it on its hook by the door. “Want any help?” he asked, sounding about as breezy as you’d ever heard him.

           “It just has to bake for about an hour. Does a late lunch work with your construction schedule?”

           Sam leaned over to slip a hand around your waist and kissed the top of your head before grabbing an armful of stuff to take outside. “Definitely. Just yell when you’re ready for me.”

           You giggled and waggled your eyebrows suggestively. “I’m always ready for you.”

           He tried his best not to blush but bit his lip in spite of himself, looking up at you with a bashful twinkle in his eye. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

           In response you held up a spare slice of zucchini that Sam readily accepted, opening his mouth like an obedient puppy and chewing as he went out the back door.

           You loved watching Sam work on his greenhouse in the weeks that followed, getting so excited about the tiny shoots sprouting up from the soil that he sometimes woke up early to check on them before starting his day. After a few weeks he woke you up one morning with a cup of coffee, bare-chested under slightly sleep-tangled hair and the hems of his flannel pants sloppily half inside his boots. “I wanna show you something,” he said, throat still gravelly. You accepted the mug and got out of bed, following him drowsily and jamming your feet inside your shoes at the door, too tired to worry about the laces.

           He led you into the greenhouse with its clear plastic walls and pointed down at a petite bud on top of a green stalk. It had the telltale waviness of a basil leaf, and when you bent down to look closer at it the plant already smelled herbaceous. “It’s so cute!” you hummed. Sam practically glowed with satisfaction, an unbridled smile the perfect accessory to the broad span of his chest where it was backlit by the fuzzy light through the greenhouse walls. You straightened and rubbed his back in congratulations, staring down at the plant together with your coffees like parents on Christmas morning. Tucked in the corner of the greenhouse behind the basil, a scattering of bitty white flowers caught your eye against the burnt umber soil.

           “Wait, you already have stuff flowering in here? What’s that?” you asked, tiptoeing around the wooden stakes in the soil to get closer.

           “Oh—I, uh—” he stammered behind you.

           At arm’s length the flowers looked vaguely familiar and you stopped short. “Is that—?” You turned back to Sam, who seemed not to be able to come up with anything to say, his face the kind of blank surprise that indicated he didn’t know whether you were about to be upset. “Really? Where’d you even…how did you get some?”

           He tucked his hair behind his ears to stall for even a half second. “I—well, I found a guy who got me—got us—some.”

           “You still have an African dream root hookup?”

           Sam’s lips pressed into a well-practiced silent ‘I guess?’ and he reached back to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck, the movement stretching his side distractingly enough that if you hadn’t been so startled by the discovery of a plot of dream root literally in your own backyard you might’ve forgotten what you were talking about altogether.

           You raised your eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to explain.

           “I made some calls, found someone in Milwaukee who got his hands on some and he mailed it here. I didn’t want to, uh, tell you in case I couldn’t get it to grow.”

           All kinds of possibilities and frustrations raced through your head. “So you’ve had this for weeks? That’s why you built the greenhouse?” Sam didn’t answer fast enough. “Never mind, I don’t care,” you found yourself saying, and surprisingly, actually meaning. You took a deep breath to stop the words from jumbling together. “Do you think it’ll work?” you breathed, knowing he would understand the real question: would we be able to see Dean together?

           “Only one way to find out.”

           For whatever reason you’d gotten freshly showered, made up, and dressed before brewing the tea with Sam on your next day off of work. It felt like there should be some level of pomp and circumstance about it, this giant undertaking that might be able to change your whole life again, even knowing that your prep wouldn’t translate into a dream. You were giddy with anxiety and almost wished you could reasonably put it off, the idea of this new possibility being yet another dead end making you nauseous.

           “Your place or mine?” you asked, trying to put a little sheen of humor on your nerves.

           Sam chuckled but you could tell he was nervous too, rubbing his palms dry on the knees of his jeans over and over again. “You haven’t done it before, right?”

           You shook your head. “Is there a learning curve or something?”

           “Honestly it’s been long enough that I don’t really remember. Hold on—hold still.” He reached out and very gingerly swept a finger across your cheekbone, drawing back to show you an eyelash stuck to the whorl of its pad.

           You straightened where you sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s as good a sign as any. Cheers, I guess.” Sam dropped the tiny hair into his mug and touched the ceramic to yours, his eyes hopeful and reassuring as you took tandem sips.

           And then you were off.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 17

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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#dean #sam #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester series #sam winchester reader insert #dean winchester reader insert #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fluff #spn series #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #sam fluff #sam angst #dean fluff #dean angst #sam x reader #dean x sam x reader #dean x reader #sam x you

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello there, I really liked your writing and especially the prompt with enemy forces attack and lack of oxygen! May I ask you to write it with Perceptor and Drift? (Separately, just in case). Thank you in advance!)

Got a ninja boy and a science boy here for you anon!

Got some links to the previous posts for this prompt!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: You're Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight! Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Perceptor

·Your arrival on the ship required him to work with the medics to ensure you could survive on it, and that obviously included working with you quite frequently to gather data, which eventually evolved into you assisting directly as the upgrades were put into place. Though he was initially hesitant to admit your presence was nice and he briefly stalled on finishing the upgrades just to spend more time together, you wore him down enough that he eventually relented and confessed to wanting you around. In the short time since things have come very far, enough so that he freely requests your aid in projects, chatting idly as he makes use of your tiny size and encouraging demeanor.

·This is exactly what you're up to today, though you're in the shooting range as opposed to your usual set up in the lab. While he's more than confident in his ability to handle this experimental weapon, he needs it here for when it's finally tested, and your small hands are ideal for a final stability check. A barely observable feeling in his spark registers as excited pride for you to see the weapon in action, but he keeps that to himself... It's bad enough someone walked in on the two of you holding hands as much as your differing sizes allowed the other day, and he doesn't need any more embarrassment.

·There's still a tiny smile on his face as he takes the first few shots, and the accuracy combined with the little cheer from you makes it impossible to keep it from growing. He's about to remark that this is only the first trial of the adjustable blaster, and thus not inductive of its real potential, when he's interrupted by a garbled communication. As you watch him answer, it's hard to hold back reasurance at the hint of frustration on his face, because you know him well enough to understand he doesn't appreciate the disturbance while trying to show off to you. Perhaps one day you'd let him know how easy he was for you to read.

·Well accustomed to frantic requests for his assistance, Perceptor finds himself unexpectedly surprised when the transmission is nearly inaudible, and the message from the bridge proves to be nothing more than a few broken sentences mentioning crashes and security systems before going dead. Not certain what could possibly be causing the ship he personally inspects to suffer malfunctions but knowing it must be corrected, he immediately plans to set off and get to the bottom of things. Securing the weapon into its holster on his back, he offers his hand to transport you with him, surmising you'll be safest with him at least until they have a better idea of what's going on. Of course he already has some theories, but he never acts without evidence.

·Glad to come along, even if only to help him run through some ideas, you happily take your place in his palm. Being without a vehicular mode means he pretty much had to get accustomed to carrying you everywhere he wanted to take you, as it takes quite a few steps for you to match one of his. Now he rather likes being able to hold you in a way that enables easy conversation, especially because as he walks and looks down to you in his palm and you look up at him with those genuinely fascinated eyes... It's nice. Currently he's listing the usual suspects for spacefaring trouble; solar flares, electric storms, debris collisions, and how none of them seem the likely culprit here for various reasons. You've seen him enter this state of unparalleled focus many times, and can't help but wish the circumstances could be better, because you love seeing him in his element.

·Both of you have a rather unfortunate awakening when a series of tremors pass through the ship and nearly knock him to the floor, something he prevents with quick reflexes that momentarily turn your world dark, a phenomenon you realize in an instant was caused by both of his hands cupping protectively around you. When they part you're left peaking upwards through digits at a somewhat concerned and bashful bot. Affirming you're alright, you watch as he gets moving again in an instant, now in full crisis mode after your little tumble. You know enough to be equally concerned by this turn of events, particularly because spaceships aren't known for their tremors.

·Talking as he walks, he has every one of his sharp senses on full alert for the trouble he knows will be coming, including his sense of touch to keep tabs on your small body in his hands. Being aware of every single potential problem means he knows quite well you could be in danger already. It worries him, to a level of concern he's not accustomed to feeling after experiencing so much combat. You can see the anxiety he's trying so hard to work through. There's a crackle in his spark that bots only have when very on edge, and you're close enough to hear it through his armored chest, spurring you to reach out and lay a hand against the warm metal. For a moment his optics meet your eyes, and at your reassuring smile he seems to regain some measure of calm control. His mind quickly uses that to put together a plan.

·While that tremor very likely came from an anchoring weapon on an enemy vessel, none of that explains the system shutdowns precluding it, and he needs to know the full extent of the threat before he can launch a counterattack. Most bots would need a well established access point to get diagnostics for the whole ship, but thankfully he's a bit more skilled than that. Explaining that he merely needs a workstation with any kind of physical connection to the main network, he begins what he is certain will be a quick search, and while you're delighted by the boost he obviously feels thanks to feeling in control you're a bit too tired to celebrate. Not wanting him to know the stress of the situation is wearing you down, your smile remains steadfast to give him the strength he needs.

·As he predicted, finding something suitable for his needs is a breeze, and he's so distracted by the impending answers he doesn't notice you growing drowsy in his palms. Though the small room is little more than a relay station for routine power inspection, it's perfect for what he has planned, and he places you on a nearby table as he gets to work. Even if your head were clear the flurry of activity he follows with wouldn't make sense. Somehow a motley collection of dust covered components becomes rewired into a humming piece of... something in what feels like minutes, and you absolutely beam with pride to see your partner pulling up the information he needs on a monitor, heavy eyelids lifted by your desire to watch him work more wonders.

·Data starts flowing through his makeshift diagnostic scanner in moments, and Perceptor watches intently as the ship's systems flash their readouts in order, though even he can't keep his expression calm as he all too rapidly puts together the horrifying pieces. They haven't just been boarded; they've been sabotaged. Most of the damage is meant to neuter their defenses and hinder any attempt at an organized counterattack, but one key readout tells him that you in particular are in the most dire need of assistance. The atmospheric generators and oxygen stabilizers he personally optimized for your benefit are going haywire, and the air you need to survive is rapidly being drained from the ship. The sheer size of the vessel, and the ability of its crew to keep the attackers at bay for this long, is the only reason you're still alive. In an instant he's on the move.

·You're cupped in oversized palms just as you realize you were laying down for a nap you didn't know had snuck up on you. Bleary in your head as well as your eyes, you hear him speak in the flat, rapid manner that he only uses when something critical is on the line. While his inflection is clear enough for you to catch his basic meaning, for the life of you it's just not possible to panic as much as you should, and his explanation of a plan doesn't register in the slightest. You know it should, and you feel awful for being so calm while he needs you, but the strength for you to be what he needs just isn't there. There is enough clarity for you to register one thing though, namely how closely he's cradling you to his chest. Such an open display of caring and concern is usually not something you see from him. A part of you rather likes it.

·Cold fear that he's come quite unaccustomed to creeps through him as he takes off through the ship. The medical bay is his ideal destination, as he helped create the human catered medical equipment already there, but he knows that time being of the essence means he has to plan for every possible situation, including those far from ideal. What matters is getting you oxygen, fast. The data on human biology made it impossibly clear; every minute without adequate oxygen is critical. Horrifying possibilities run through his mind, the diagrams of cell death he memorized almost taunting him as you appear to grow weaker with every passing breath. Feelings he'd long since forgotten, powerlessness and grief, eat away at him as he internally bemoans his lack of an altmode.

·You feel incredibly guilty as he grows more panicked, but sleep beckons far too strongly for you to resist it long. There's a part of you that knows his incredibly brilliant mind struggles when he doesn't feel in control, to the point he breaks reality at times to regain that handle on the world around him. So seeing you like this and being unable to do much in the moment... no doubt it's tearing him apart. Words don't come easy at the moment, and in fact you realize there's no way to form them at all, but still you try to reassure him. There's so much panic in the spark he holds you beside, and you do everything you can to convey that none of this is his fault. Gently splaying your fingers over the warm metal, you feel the world around you become little more than a blur.

·For a moment the path before him is filled with enemies. He nearly barrels into them rounding a corner, but not a moment is wasted once he has a full count of their number. One hand cradling you protectively, his other grabs the weapon he'd been testing with you before, and the still recovering alien soldiers become nothing more than an impromptu accuracy test. Even for him the precise carnage that follows is unimaginable. A series of heads jerk backwards before hulking bodies go limp, and in mere moments the threat is little more than a pile of confused looking corpses, but there's no time to celebrate. He's off with the weapon in hand for any future attacks.

·You hear him speaking to you as the last vestiges of your strength finally give way. He's trying to sound calm as he urges you to retain consciousness, but for once it's a losing effort, as you can hear the crack in his performance. It makes you sadder than anything else thus far. Particularly because you simply can't stay awake a moment longer. There's just too much weight in your limbs, and the warm darkness promises you a break, so you simply have to give in. All you can hope is that he'll understand neither one of you is to blame, and that you'll be able to wake up and tell him that yourself, but you're not especially worried about the latter half.

·He feels you go completely limp just as the medical bay and laboratory signs come into view. Now in a blind desperation, he makes a split second decision to head for his lab, reasoning that the medical bay will certainly be crowded due to current circumstances. Everything he'll need can be found in his various tools, and he can't waste a moment waiting on anyone else, even the medics. He can recall so clearly the human texts now, how the phenomenon of suffocation was described, and the resulting smothering of irreplaceable cells... Your tiny body is still breathing, but how much damage has already been inflicted? What parts of you has he failed to save? Not knowing is tearing him apart.

·Brainstorm is the only one in the lab, and he looks momentarily relieved to see Perceptor enter, saying something about restoring communication before catching sight of the little body in his hands. A frantic recommendation to bring them to the medical bay is met with curt dismissal as he lays you on an open work slab. There's no time to entrust this to anyone else, and in his mind the supplies he needs are already listed clear as day, including where to find them and what order he needs them in to maximize efficiency. Conscious thought is almost nonexistent as he works with record speed. The only times he stops are when his traitorous optics glance to your tiny body, and each glimpse is like an icy dagger to his spark. This isn't it. It can't be it. He won't lose the one he cares about more than anything.

·The tank of oxygen and the human sized ventilation system are hooked up to your frightfully still face with the care of a diamondsetter. He's able to get the readings of your improvement quickly, as the oxygen levels in the ship were apparently not yet low enough to do real damage, but he feels no comfort. All of his mind is still in chaos from the helplessness he can't yet shake. The fog is so deep that he barely notices Brainstorm return with a glowering Ratchet, and he only replies in curt affirmations or negations when the medic begins questioning your condition, doing so somewhat gruffly due to the inconvenience of having to move you later. With only a confirmation from the other mech you'll be in his care, he heads back out into the ship, weapon in hand and optics cold as he sets about securing Autobot victory one shot at a time.

·By the time you awaken the battle is over and the Lost Light is back to near total functionality. A calm voice instructs you to keep your oxygen mask on just a little longer to be safe, and you see Perceptor sitting beside you in the small recovery room. Having the basic pieces of everything more or less clear in your head, your immediate concern is him, which is only made worse by the scratches and scuffs on his usually well maintained armor. Barely able to stay where you are, the questions begin to pour forth as you reach a hand out to him. There's an uncharacteristically exhausted smile on his face as he reaches out a servo for you to hold. The expression is an obvious mask, made only more strained by the fake flatness of his assurance that he's fine, and that he only endured minor damage while cleaning out the last of the enemy. You know he's lying about that and more.

·Despite your ability to read him, you're still surprised when he cracks in a heartbreaking moment. His shoulders shake, his helm falls forward, and he leans heavily against the berth as your gentle prompt forces it all to the surface. By his standards he's a wreck, though his sobs are barely audible and could easily be mistaken for rough ventilations, and he makes it clear he's aware of how pathetic he looks. But how can he be okay? You needed him, and it was his own system that had failed you, with a second rate cyber attack no less. He should have seen that coming from the onset! He should have prepared! He can't seem to find the ground beneath him as he shakes, and in that instant you find strength far beyond your tiny body, and you use it to claw your way towards him. Seeing this makes him panic, and when he tries to gently stop your efforts you grab him tight, looking deep into those optics as you remind him he doesn't have to know everything. There will be times he's up against the unknown and unexpected, but his determination and strength have always driven him forward, and that's what you fell in love with. As you speak he seems to regain himself, and you hold him as tight as you can while emphasizing that even if everything feels out of control, you'll always be here to figure it out beside him. There's a sigh of relief he doesn't bother to hide as his world stabilizes, and once again you and he are right where you belong, hand in hand at the center.

Drift

·Having spent time on earth made him rather familiar with humans, and that combined with his first hand experience being an outsider in a group made him determined to ensure you were welcome on the ship. Needless to say, his efforts were more than a little successful. Now he's trying to teach you self defense in your shared quarters, which requires some creative thinking to ensure your safety. He's still got you using lightweight staffs in the place of anything sharp, and being a beginner, you can't complain too much. Though it's hard not to laugh when something occasionally gets bonked, yourself included, and even he chuckles despite all attempts to appear the dedicated teacher. Even with these distractions you learn a lot, but it's hard not to just enjoy how gentle he is when adjusting your stance, his proportionally massive hands holding you as if you might shatter in an instant.

·Thankfully he has full control of his reactions when the ship unexpectedly spasms, and his cupped palm prevents you from tumbling to the floor as the tremors settle back to absolute stillness, allowing you to look up at Drift just as he opens his communication line to Rodimus. The captain is able to give a brief rant about an ambush and systems crashing all over before the line begins to break, and you see your steadfast partner visibly distress as he loses contact with his friend, getting only a few garbled bits of information before the line goes entirely silent. An attempt by you to establish contact on your own communicator finds no success either. For all of his usual calm, the mech still supporting you looks ready to fight as he acknowledges trouble is inbound.

·To your surprise, he lifts you clear off the floor in a single move, talking fast as he secures his weapons and prepares for what he says will be a run for the most secure parts of the ship. Even if he's one of the key bots for defense in the event of something just like this, he has to get you to safety, or at least somewhere relatively well protected. There's a few key locations he can think of; the headquarters for security, the laboratories, the medical bay, and a few others he's memorized for... well, this exact purpose. The moment a tiny human changed his world he had drafted countless protective measures to ensure their safety, because he knew the dangers they would face all too well. Unfortunately he's having a hard time keeping them all in track now, especially with creeping fear tainting his reason and ability to plan ahead.

·Catching the worry he never admits to having, and admittedly plenty afraid yourself, you help him focus by calmly asking for the closest place he knows of that's secure. Mask of calm returning in an instant, he smiles and decides to go for the main laboratory. Perceptor is likely there, getting whatever experimental defense apparatus he's currently testing up and running to expel incoming threats. There likely won't be a safer place in the universe once he's prepared. Drift keeps to himself that there's an unspoken understanding between them regarding you, namely that the reserved scientist will protect you with the same level of veracity he would his former battle partner. Unfortunately that vow may be getting tested very shortly... Yet he keeps smiling, refusing to let his fear dampen your energy as he decides it's time to make his move. Somehow you feel just as heavy in his hand as the sword on his back as he makes sure you're secure.

·Accustomed to being carried by him in a number of ways, you notice his grip is different the instant he steps into the hallway, his digits curled in a way that screams protection just as much as his narrowed optics radiate apprehension despite trying to appear calm. You know he's protective by nature, but this is different. Every part of him is working in unison to move with as little noise as possible, his senses alert and scanning for threats as he hurries through the ship far more silently than you would have ever expected for a bot his size. In all your time together he's never been so outwardly on edge. Through his shameful confessions you know of his past, and you know of his skill in eliminating threats, so to see him nervous is actually a touch alarming in itself.

·There's a quick whisper from him that he believes enemies may be unavoidable no matter what path he takes. Should there be combat, he warns, he wants you to remain hidden or at least in cover until he's eliminated the threat. Should they overpower him however, your goal will be escape through whatever means necessary. The idea of dying to protect his partner doesn't give him any pause. Instead, his only focus is on ensuring you know every tool at your disposal to get to safety. Thoughts of sending you through the vents give him little comfort, but his feelings are hardly a priority, as nothing matters beyond you. You who saw past his sins, who'd given him a home in your boundless heart, and who had brought nothing but joy and light into his life. If he could guarantee anything by sheer force of will, it was your survival.

·You want to remind him that you're not the only one who matters here. Though you don't have any of his great strength or speed, you're certainly not going to let him be taken from you, as surviving without him would hardly be a victory. But holding on to that conversation is all you can do for now. The danger is real if you draw unwanted attention through speech, and so you keep the thoughts to yourself, saving them for the time you both would have to talk when this was over. Stress is oddly nonexistent as the air crackles around you from tension, perhaps signaling you've become so anxious it's all come full circle and turned you calm. Still, you keep a firm hold on him from your position of cover. Spectralism has encouraged him to be incredibly sensitive to the world around him, so you hope your tiny self focusing on calm will help give him some comfort.

·Unfortunately your efforts are given no time to pay off. Without making so much as a sound, he pushes himself flat against a wall and shushez you as he does so, allowing you to catch the faintest hint of what alarmed him; the sound of very alien movement. Trained audials lock in on the most likely direction of the source, which gives him the information he needs to come to an important decision; there's no getting around this particular group. As time to wait them out simply doesn't exist, he's left to confirm that fighting is his only choice, and with that lays you down on the floor beside a vent opening. Having known this might happen does nothing to quell your panic when you realize you're being left on the sidelines. This mech leaves you no time to argue before silently slipping around the corner to end things quickly.

·There's a team of Cybertronian sized lifeforms so surprised by his arrival they only have time to clumsily draw their weapons before the first one is neatly cut to pieces. Double blades make short work of the next few, and the mess of alien blood barely registers as he moves in a kind of trance, unwilling to let himself waste a moment of time unleashing the frustration and anger he so desperately wants to take out on these intruders. There's no doubt in his mind they'd hurt you if given the chance, but his logic keeps him in check to ensure he doesn't lose himself to the rage such a thought tempts him with. Cold precision is what he needs to most effectively end this quickly, and the method is proven effective when the last enemy falls in pieces, all without a single mark on his own armor. Save for the few spatters of alien blood, but he hardly notices such a minor detail.

·You're a little more concerned when he returns dripping with the mess of battle, but a quick reasurance and a noting of the lack of energon's distinctive pink glow puts most of your worries to rest. Still, you cling tightly to him as he picks you back up, whispering your thanks despite the loud clamor of the recent battle. It's a small victory when your gratitude makes him smile once again. Reminding you that he took a vow to protect you, he holds you close again and sets back off, assuming the same strategy of silent travel as before. It's oddly less tense this time, as if seeing what he's up against gave him the confidence to overcome his own worries for your sake. Whatever the case, you gladly take the result, already worn out from all the excitement of his recent battle.

·A brief burst of communication gives him pause, and you're equally baffled by the sudden transmission until he takes cover and answers. The commanding bots make something clear for the short message they've been able to transmit; Drift needs to get you to the medical bay. A rapid explanation of how the shipwide errors includes the atmospheric generators puts it all together in horrifying detail. Oxygen levels are dropping on all the sensors, they explain before the line cuts out, and while it's happening slowly there's still precious little time. He doesn't need any further instructions when silence descends over you both once more. You, however, can barely grasp the full extent of what you've just been told. After all, you feel fine! Well... mostly fine, perhaps things are a bit more wobbly than they should be.

·You're embraced as his expression briefly cracks into full worry. There's a whispered promise to get you to safety before he's once again on the move, all the on edge energy from before filling his coiled body as it hurries through the ship at impressive speeds. Strategy doesn't come easily as you try to think of the best way to save your breath. Keeping calm is hardly an option with everything going on, but you give it your best shot. You just need to stay awake and as relaxed as possible until he reaches the medical bay. It's harder than it should be already, but you persevere, lying down in his hand to keep the world from spinning all around you. Being close to him helps just a little bit. It helps you believe that the two of you will be fine, that he'll get to where he needs to be without trouble, and that everything is going to be smooth sailing from here.

·But of course, his luck allows for no such fortune. In the next moment he's being forced to tuck you away without a word of warning, the sound of an even more aggressive group of attackers forcing him to act before you can be hurt. He tries to dominate the battle like he did the last one, using his anger for fuel but never allowing it to take control, and his blades respond well to the strategy at first. However, this group is larger than the last, and thus his ambush simply doesn't buy him enough time to defeat them all. Soon blaster shots are flying and counterattacks are being hurled in his direction. All he can think about is you lying just out of sight, and how little time he has for this, and that these beings are all perfectly fine ending your life with such a cowardly tactic... It's an emotional powder keg, and the spark is finally lit when a not so lucky alien manages to cut a shallow gash across his side. The harsh burn of the injury sets him off just as you manage to glance down the hallway.

·Calm and calculated combat becomes a brutal beat down of anything he can get his swords through. A snarl reveals his shamefully concealed canines as he turns his blades into instruments of revenge instead of mere tools to victory. Even as your vision spins you can see him carving the increasingly fewer number of enemies without any of his usual grace, his expression one of blind fury as he eviscerates his enemies and something like a smile pulling up on his lips through their snarl. Some part of him is enjoying this, you realize. Even though he doesn't linger or draw out his moves, you can see he's going for absolute brutality in his kills. He wants these aliens to hurt for what they've done, and while you can't feel any pity for them, you know he's going to agonize over this later. He's often confided a fear of his own mind, citing moments like these where he just wants the enemy to hurt, and you know he firmly believes goodness is beyond him because of this.

·There's a thrill as he clears the last enemy, despite a few additional injuries of his own to show for it. No one was going to harm his beloved human and keep their limbs intact. He's still flashing the artificially sharpened canines that usually bring him such shame when he turns to see you watching. Pride vaporizes to horror in an instant, both from the realization that he gave in to temptation and that you saw him partake in such senseless brutality, and only the continued need to move lets him approach and lift you once more. Apologies pour out of his voicebox as he returns to running, begging your forgiveness for having exposed you to the worst parts of himself and failing to control them at your most vulnerable. Guilt tears him apart as he sees you've begun to lose clarity in the growing absence of oxygen.

·Unconsciousness pulls at you despite your resistance, and you force yourself to stay alert enough to keep him reassured. Had you the words your emphasis would have been on comforting him in the wake of his loss of control, particularly in regards to how you weren't afraid and never would be, as that piece was just a small part of the actual him you knew. Did he reject you for your failings? No, you wished you could say, and that you would never leave him for the same reason. As it was, you could only suck in deep breaths and hope he might read the conviction in your eyes. You want so badly for him to see you're not even upset with him, but your more coherent thoughts on the subject are starting to fade as well. Assurances that you will always support him fade into the fog overtaking your mind.

·He feels you slip into unconsciousness and it's like another stab to his already aching spark. Time is running out, and he can certainly take some of the blame for that, can't he? How many precious seconds could have been saved if he just stayed in control and finished the battle without savoring the violence? It's enough guilt that he becomes blind to anything else, charging forward on the most direct path and straight into an ongoing battle between bots and the still invading forces. You're held to his spark with a level of protection a bot would usually reserve for the Matrix, your safety being the only one that matters as he quite literally cuts a path through the enemies, focusing only on getting to the other side as he does so. Without any kind of defense he's quickly suffering a number of injuries, but he either doesn't notice or care as he keeps you free of the danger. The desire for retribution burning in his spark is smothered by a cold refusal to indulge unless he loses what's most worth fighting for.

·Only a lack of operability in his leg slows him down, and by then he's thankfully surrounded more by Autobots than enemies. His heroic charge is credited with turning the fight, but he's heedless to praise and concern as he finds support to stand from an unexpected arrival; Ratchet. Stopping the medic before his own wounds can be addressed, he holds you out wordlessly as his sword clatters to the floor from his other hand. Energon loss he only just now notices makes him wobble, but he insists on waiting until you've been helped, refusing to be treated until he knows you're going to be okay. The medics sort of compromise by tending to him whilst setting you up on the prepared medical slab, and as his considerable injuries are patched up he feels relief plagued by uncertainty. Will you remember what you saw? Will the firsthand experience with his inner demons drive you away? It eats at him in ways no medic can make feel better.

·When you awaken he's also on mandatory rest, and he's moved your tiny self onto a medical slab beside him to keep you close, making his familiar colors the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. You can't bring yourself to care about the oxygen mask on your face when the recently welded scars on his armor shock you into a mild panic. Seeing you awake, he gently shushes your concerns and encourages you to be still, and his position on his side thankfully makes conversing quite simple. At a single, anxious prompt about your memory the moments leading up to your loss of consciousness become clear. Drift quickly assures you that everything is fine, but you catch his look of worry when you confirm your recollection, and a gentle request for more information strikes him hard.

·His apologies are as helpless as they are hopeless. The disgust with himself is nearly tangible as he begs your forgiveness for having exposed you to the worst parts of himself, and it takes far longer than usual to get him to listen to you, perhaps due to the mask muffling your voice. Reiterating that you already accepted his past, you recall the way he held you in the heat of everything just today, and emphasise the sheer volume of injuries he endured to save you. That's the bot you've chosen to love, at the peak of his strength and selflessness and determination... That's who he is, and who he will always be to you. Your reminder soothes the pain in his body and spark. Moving as close as he can on the berth, he takes the moment to appreciate being together once again, his faith in himself given new strength thanks to your boundless love.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #perceptor #drift #perceptor x reader #drift x reader #human reader #self insert #transformers headcanon

[tatzelwyrm]

Okay, so, you know, imagine you’re ambling around Mordor, maybe you’re taking your caragor out for a walk, it’s a nice day, the Morgai flies are buzzing gently, ash falls from the sky in tender flakes, when you see HIM! The coolest looking orc captain you’ve ever seen. Absolutely stunning. Tall, massive shoulders, dreamy eyes. Looks a bit like like a Batman villain but less crabby.

Let’s call him Zunn (because that is his name).

This captain shall be my captain, you think.

So you turn on elf-vision, tag him, and - oh no! He’s got Iron Will.

That sucks, but you can work around that. Shame him a couple of times until he comes to his senses, then gently level him back up. It’s annoying and a bit risky due to the possibilty of you breaking his mind beyond repair during the process, but, hey, he’ll live and he’ll still look cool.

But then you browse through his traits and all of a sudden all hope is gone, because not only does this beautiful, beautiful orc have Iron Will, he’s also got Unbreakable.

Because someone during development of this game thought, you know what would be fun in an Orc-collecting-game? Making some orcs un-collectable!

And now you got a problem. Now you gotta kill this beautiful orc - except, there may still be a way you can have him, without having him, because Zunn the Beautiful is a Trickster who uses doubles of himself as decoys! And to make his intro speeches extra long, because every single one of doubles just has to make a cute one-liner before the ass-kicking commences.

Anyways, this dude got doubles. So all you gotta do now, is let one of his doubles kill you, so that the double gets promoted to captain and you can collect the double!

Easy, right? What could possibly go wrong?

You wanna do this properly, so you go find some intel, find out if Zunn the Ravishing has any traits you can make use of to differentiate the original from the doubles.

You’re in luck! Zunn the Bodacious gets dazed by pinning! So all you gotta do, is shoot every orc that looks like Zunn in the foot and then get killed by one that doesn’t get dazed! SIMPLE!

First, you remember to turn off Saviors, so that when Zunn the Lovely has heroically brought you to your knees, he doesn’t get one-shotted by a lvl 10 glob you recruited 20 hours ago and have since forgotten about in a valiant attempt to save you (bc that has never happened before when you were trying to recruit a really cool orc, no, sir). Next, you find your beautiful new orc and his copies, kill any grunts in his camp so they don’t get in the way and steal the kill from your intended murderer. You identify the original Zunn with your brilliant plan of shooting everybody in the foot and let one of the copies reduce your health to zero.

SUCCESS!

Except not, because Zunn and his copies also happen to be sadists and they refuse to give you the killing blow, because for some reason orcs think that giving you another chance to stab them in the face is humiliating to you (orcs and their weird Klingon-copycat society, I swear...) .

FINE.

It’s frustrating, but we’re a grown-up. We eat our humiliation and get back up and the fight continues.

Rinse and repeat. We let another copy reduce our health to zero.

FINALLY. This time we die!

Except we don’t, because you forgot that you had the Adamant upgrade turned on and the killing blow is skipped again, because, again, Zunn and his copies are sadists who hate you specifically.

FINE.

You get back up. This is the last time. Adamant has been used up. They HAVE to kill you now. Except, as soon as you regain your bearing you’re interrupted by Krakhorn the Bowman.

Krakhorn the Bowman is a lovely Machine Tribe Sharpshooter that you raised to Epic levels yourself after recruiting him.

And now he’s betraying you.

Do you want to know why?

Because you got humiliated.

Krakhorn has a sweet poison weapon you gave him a while back and he probably has some sweet immunities too that you were going to put to use in an online siege, but you don’t take the time check before you cut off his head in a quiet rage.

This is fine. It’s fine. Just FINE.

Back to Zunn.

“He KILLED Krakhorn!” he cries.

Zunn saw what you just did.

So did his doubles.

The doubles who you need to kill you. The doubles who are not captains yet and who are treated by the game as normal grunts and now start running from you in a panic because they witnessed you execute a captain.

You run after them (definitely not laughing hysterically), but they just keep running and running and no matter how many times you hit them, they just keep running.

Then you get taken out by some random grunt OUT OF NOWHERE.

You die.

The random grunt gets promoted to Captain.

But at least he gained a unique title. The Dreamer is a pretty cool orc. He’s a Destroyer. That’s a much, much more useful class than Trickster anyway. If you tire of trying to capture Zunn the Captivating you can always console yourself by taking The Dreamer instead...

The Dreamer gained Iron Will.

You turn off the game.

#shadow of war #shadow of mordor #this is fine :))) :)))) #orcs #uruks #the pretender #the dreamer #zunn the bodacious #tatzelwyrm plays #tatzelwyrm plays shadow of war #tatzelwyrm's adventures in orc husbandry