#though​ I had a wheeze drawing him with ~that~ hand cause he looks like the Robert Downey Jr's Comments meme :'D

[zu-is-here]

<– • –>

#zu art #comic #studio #zudio #dream!sans #cross!sans #undertale #undertale au #utmv #finally. I've reached the point where I despise actor!Dream myself XD #all for good. =) #though​ I had a wheeze drawing him with ~that~ hand cause he looks like the Robert Downey Jr's Comments meme :'D #plz remind me not to draw backgrounds ever again (I will and I'll suffer xp)

[dabislittlemouse]

okay but.. I'm feeling fluffy.. I wanna see some father dabi like his daughter is such a daddy's girl and they get into so much shenanigans that you have to deal with!! my nephew cut her bangs because she was bored and when she saw it in the mirror, she was so terrified at how it looked and I just wanna see how dabi would react if his daughter did the same thing 😭😭😭😭

Daddy!Dabi Headcanons

Summary: Dabi as a dad, how he’d behave with his kids, either a son or a daugher

A/N: DADDY DABI IS WHAT GETS MY HEART SO FULL. I’m sure he’d be such a good dad. I wouldn’t want anyone to be my baby’s daddy other than him. Sorry anon my beloved but your ask inspired me to write a lot, kids are so cute and silly sometimes.

MASTERLIST

₊˚ʚ The thought of being a dad never crossed Dabi’s mind in a million years, but when it did, it terrified him. Not because of the responsibility of having a baby, Dabi is not a pussy, he’d never run away from his responsibilities and leave you alone with your baby. He was scared of the fact that he would not be a good dad, that he would be like….him. Dabi would rather get burned in Sekoto twice as much than hurt his baby in anyway possible.

₊˚ʚ His insecurities would get the best of him, coming off as sarcasm or bad jokes most of the time, such as like “imagine what their reaction will be once they find out their daddy is the boogeyman” or stuff like that. You had to smack him at the back of his head, and have a nice long conversation as to why he will be a good dad and his baby will love him.

₊˚ʚ And in fact, he is a good dad. The best one out there ever. You and the baby are the light of his life. He becomes more cautious and is always looking after you two, providing anything you need, helping you out as much as he can. It is all natural, it’s not like he is forcing himself to be a good dad or something.

₊˚ʚ You can’t help the smile on your face as you see him play with his baby, inhaling their scent and humming a small melody to make them sleep. Look at him, a wanted criminal, being such a softie, it makes your heart so full. His scarred hands, the ones that have destroyed and burned down whole cities, are now gently caressing the baby’s cheek, he is so careful with his movements as if the baby is going to break. Looking at Dabi you realize wouldn’t want any other man to be your baby’s daddy. Nobody other than him.

₊˚ʚ As the baby grows up, speaks the first words, starts crawling, does the first steps, Dabi is witnessing it all, and he can’t believe such small creature is able to make his chest explode from emotions. He’d be having tears in his eyes if his tear ducts weren’t burnt.

₊˚ʚ Dabi would be the type of dad to spoil his kid rotten, even when it was too much. Toys got broken or lost? Don’t worry, daddy will steal get new ones. Mommy didn’t allow chocolates? Don’t worry, daddy will bring so many chocolates and ice-cream instead. Too many dresses? Don’t worry, daddy will get more princess dresses for his precious daughter.

₊˚ʚ At some point you have to tell Dabi to not spoil the kid too much cause it is not good. He never listens though.

₊˚ʚ Dabi is always there to help the kids hide the evidence after having done something bad. (Duh, a wanted criminal, he’s an expert at this) Broken glasses, vases, colored walls, messy rooms, ruining mommy’s lipsticks, the kids come to his daddy, saying that they have done a mistake. Daddy always forgives them and is ready to help them fix everything before mommy comes home.

₊˚ʚ Dabi would be the type of dad to laugh his ass off when he sees his kid with a terrible self-done haircut, or their face painted horribly with whatever colored pens they were using. “Ya little brats never chill huh” he chuckles while cleaning their face with wet wipes.

₊˚ʚ Dabi would wheeze when his kid shows him a drawing that they have done. He doesn’t mean to laugh but the drawing is just… so fucking funny! His kid gets mad and starts stomping their feet around the room, running to mommy and saying how daddy is making fun of them. Dabi will come and apologize over and over, saying that he indeed loved the drawing to the point it made him laugh from happiness.

₊˚ʚ If Dabi was a boy dad, things would be different. Hilarious even. Dabi considers his lovely son as a little friend as well.

₊˚ʚ“You cute little shit look exactly like your mother. Too embarrassed to get anything from daddy huh?” he smirks, pinching his son’s nose slightly. All the baby manages to do is babble incoherent words at his daddy, as Dabi manages to squish his soft cheeks afterwards. “I really hope you don’t get my quirk, would be a real shame if ya did”

₊˚ʚ And as for Dabi’s shit luck, his son indeed inherits his flames. He is flabbergasted as one day his 4-year old son walks in, blue flame glowing on his fist. “Daddy I am like you!” his son yells, happy and excited. A weird feeling places on Dabi’s chest, it is not fear or sadness, it’s more like pride and excitement that his son, his own kid, got his quirk. And he was happy about it too. Dabi swears he will do his best to train his son properly on how to handle that quirk, something which Endeavor never did.

₊˚ʚ Dabi does everything to keep you and your kid out of harm’s way. Balancing his villainous life and the “normal” life with his beloved family is not easy, but he will do it because his little family is the only source of happiness, and he loves you two deeply. He would kill for you. He makes sure to keep his family a secret otherwise if his enemies found that Dabi from the League of Villains has a kid, he’d never forgive himself. He keeps it a secret from Tomura and the others as well for some time.

₊˚ʚ Despite from not having a normal life, Dabi does his best to be present as much as he can on his kid’s life as they grow up. Always praising his beloved kid for their achievements, no matter how small they are. He loves to see them smile as they got daddy’s praise and admiration. He makes sure to provide them everything he never had as a kid back then. Spoiling them rotten isn’t enough, they need to feel his love, Dabi always makes sure to show that to them, that daddy is always here to kiss their wounds when they run and hurt their knees, that daddy is always here to applaud them after having done a messy shitty drawing, daddy is always here to kiss their foreheads if they’ve seen a nightmare.

₊˚ʚ Dabi is literally the best dad ever. He doesn’t have to be perfect, there is no definition of a perfect dad. As long as his children are loved, safe and taken care of.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @ko-konutty @the-milk-anon @shadowsandshapes @mossy-opal @daniidil @dabislittlebeaniebaby @syrenkitsune @keiskake @arinexeisnotworking @holydayaria @awalkingshame @malewifetouya @drownedbytears @stuckbetweena-and-z @doumadono @high-bats @dabihawksluva @cherryflavoredkissess @vjohnson696 @sukunas-bitxh @wolfylovespoison @dabis0bitch @ifeelsofilthy

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #dabi imagines #dabi fluff #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha imagines #bnha headcannons #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #bnha x reader

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Identity Pt 4

Part (4) of Identity, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

I owe loads of responses and I'm sorry! I got the writing bug and any spare time I've had in front of a computer, I just wanted to write! Quick answer to the most common question, though: Yeah, the implication is that the contact is her dad - that'll be touched on a bit more later, though, and I'll try to actually be a good tumblr person and respond to everyone's lovely comments this week now that I've purged this chapter out!

Huge preemptive warning before even getting to the real warnings! This is one of those particularly dark chapters that may be too intense for some readers. If that's the case, I'm more than happy to make a summary for continuity's sake; just please take caution to read the tags

Warnings: torture, waterboarding, drowning, interrogation, panic, panic attack, flashbacks, self-blame, giving up, longing for death, temporary insanity, arguably inappropriate use of sedation, guilt, profanity, intense whump

WC: 3,231

Fire tore through my nose and throat, body wrenching forward with violent coughs that sent pain shooting down my side, but the movement stopped short, chest held fast to something behind me – no… beneath me? I couldn’t think beyond the desperate need for air, head shaking as though it might rid my eyes and nose of the liquid still dripping down my face as my jaw gaped around choked gasps. The distorted hum of unfamiliar voices resonated nearby, pausing mere seconds before another torrent of icy water crashed over me, robbing me of what pitiful taste of air I’d fought so hard to gain and sending me back down that spiral of panicked suffocation, diaphragm convulsing uselessly beneath that torturous burn of drowning.

Something locked around my jaw, forcing my gaze toward the blurred colors that surely hid an unknown face and drawing a startled grunt of pain from me. I could almost hear words, confident at least that they were male before my attacker released me harshly enough to slam my already throbbing head against whatever lay beneath it. I’d only just realized my wrists were bound behind me when another frigid wave was thrown at me, again leaving me sputtering for breath.

“… a patient man…” That voice growled, mind finally grasping some meager bit of clarity. “I suggest you answer my questions before things get really unpleasant.” Wheezing, I quickly looked about us for some hint as to what was happening, but the dark cell offered no clues toward who he was or where he’d taken me. I think I was tied to a chair leaning back at a precarious angle, but I couldn’t move enough to check before he grabbed me again, fingers burring into my already bruised jaw.

“Eyes on me, yuh damn rat.” He grumbled. Without conscious thought, I realized some part of me expected to find a grizzled, old man covered in scars, eyes full of enraged contempt, but that’s not who stood beside me. He appeared to barely be in his thirties, white shirt marred with sweat and blood and stains I tried not to look too closely at lest I see something far worse. Years of drinking left is stomach distended and his skin blotchy, and what light may once have filled pale, green eyes had long since abandoned him. There was no anger fueling his actions, no obvious cause for him to seek retribution from long held vendetta. This was his job, and he’d simply lost the will to be bothered by the horrors it forced him to do.

“Ah. Guess yuh weren’t really awake yet, were yuh?” He hummed more to himself than to me, “Concussions can be tricky like that…” With a deep sigh, he stepped back, hand dropping absently away from me. “Let’s start over, then.” The way he rubbed his hand over his face, the weariness dragging against his movements, it felt so painfully displaced against the way my heart raced.

“Who ordered the hit?” Lost, I could only stare at him, thoughts far too muddled beneath fear and confusion to fathom a response. “How about we start with something easier?” He muttered, though he still reached for something behind me. I heard the click of a button followed by the rush of water through pipework overhead, and the terror that gripped me was visceral, body shaking too hard to manage even a broken gasp, limbs wrenching against the shackles about my wrists and ankles.

The vague sensation of pain each movement sent tearing through my left side didn’t matter, nor the growing understanding that there had been an explosion; that everyone near the podium must have been caught in the blast, and I couldn’t begin to guess the extent of my own injuries even as I recalled the horrifying images of those far less fortunate. That knowledge, that pain, none of it mattered in the face of where I now lay: trapped before this stranger who owed me no loyalties and sought only to force answers from me that I could never give.

“Where are yuh from?” I wondered if the hint of a slur in his voice was from mere disinterest, or if he’d already begun numbing himself with some bottle stashed amidst the grime-streaked walls. “Not gonna tell me your name, either, I assume?” My jaw ground shut, gaze turning blindly to the dark ceiling above us. He offered no further warning before clicking another button to unleash the next rush of water. I managed to keep most of it from flooding my mouth, but the pressure forced enough up my nose to send me into another fit of strangled coughs.

“You’re with the Republic, yeah? Some kinda spy or something? What’s that fancy swamp planet…” He seemed to think it over for several seconds before remembering. “Naboo! You from Naboo?” Breath shattering between clattering teeth, I kept my attention turned pointedly away from him, clinging to some distant memory that it was better to remain silent during an interrogation; that even shouted curses yielded more easily to breaking than simply never speaking at all, and then I had to come to terms with that simple fact that that’s exactly what this was: an interrogation.

How long had it been since the gala? Was I still on the same planet? Was I on a planet at all? I didn’t want to acknowledge what the answers to those questions might mean; didn’t want to let myself listen for the rumble of engines or hum or air recyclers. It was easier not to know.

A tsk sounded from the man beside me, and I had to fight not to let my expression crumble beneath that fear.

“A’right.” I wanted to slap him for the disinterest in that breathy sigh, anger drawing my lips into a scowl. Again, there was no warning. A dark sack was pulled roughly over my face. I had just enough time to gasp before that water began to pour down. My chest bucked with violent fits, fighting to force some sliver of air through the endless onslaught, but it wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t it stop?

The was a moment when that determination first faltered beneath the weight of a panic no amount of logic could hope to supersede; a fleeting breadth of understanding just how alone I was, how little I meant, and how hopeless even the denial that forbade me from listening for engines truly was, because regardless my dreams and nightmares, regardless the sincerity of my intentions or the purpose I once believed drove me through moments when I wanted nothing more than to shatter, the simple reality was that death didn’t care and all I’d done would amount to nothing. There was no promise of one more chance, no reason swaying whether I lived or died, no thought beyond a bone-deep, primal terror, and not a damn thing I could do to change any of it.

Powerless, I laid beneath the flow of soured water, body thrashing uselessly as the man just stood there, watching; waiting. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, the sensation of that sack about my face constricting with each failed gasp overwhelmed every memory I’d ever made, forsook every imagined possibility of a future, dispelled whatever higher knowledge supposedly separated sentience from feral beasts, and I knew he was utterly impartial to all of it as my lungs burned, spine wrenching against restraints that offered no leeway. The weakness that crept up my limbs was a strange thing. I barely noticed it beneath the new form of darkness overtaking me, yet some whisper of frustration balked at how quickly my muscles began to fail, how deafening my heartbeat became as those frantic coughs faded beneath wet gurgles.

Still, there was some futile sense of denial, a disbelief promising me that he wouldn’t actually let me die; that this was merely some sick form of intimidation meant to break me, and I knew exactly how foolish that thought was as the water flooded my lungs.

-

Agony filled my chest, my head. Fire burned my sinuses and left my throat raw as my torso convulsed in violent coughs even as I strained for breath, begging my own body to grant me some small taste of air. It felt like waking; like I’d been asleep for ages, mind hazed beneath that fog of confusion.

“..ere yuh are… Come on back.” Was that voice familiar? I vaguely thought it shouldn’t be despite how my eyes automatically travelled toward it, unable yet to make out anything beyond a blurred shaped. “Can you tell me your name?” Were his words slurring, or was my hearing merely faltering beneath that disorientating weariness eager to drag me back into unconsciousness? I knew that question, though – it had long since become ingrained into my psyche from years of asking. What’s your name? What’s the date? Where are we, right now? Where…

My lips stumbled around an initial attempt at forming an answer but managed only a choked whimper beneath a hurt that left even strangled gasps crippling. That moment of physical hinderance was enough to grant the very beginnings of a clarity that threatened to break me as some distorted mockery of sensation slowly began to return; glimpses of soiled walls, the scent of putrid water, pain lancing through joints held fast about the hard surface beneath me, through flesh left raw and torn from how violently my body had struggled against restraints still binding my wrists and ankles, looped about my chest and stomach, and the fear that stole through me was like nothing I’d ever known.

In an instant, my heart began to race, the rhythm far too quick to not be a danger in itself, but I could spare no thought toward something so mundane as a heart attack as my every muscle began to convulse, the icy obstruction of adrenaline flooding my veins as logic and rationale faltered in the wake of memories.

“Damn… figured it’d figured take longer ‘en that.” He mumbled, and I froze at the bundle of still dripping cloth hanging from his hand, unable to either tear my gaze away nor stomach the sight of it. “‘ere’s how this works,” he started, utterly unmoved by how my body shied from him as he reached toward me with that cursed fabric. “Ain’t gotta go through any of that again if you don’t want to.” The way my every cell screamed against the feeling of that mask being pulled even halfway down my face left me thrashing anew, numb to any damage sustained from how desperately I found myself flailing against my bounds. “Just gotta answer my questions, an’ it all stops.”

There was no thought; no memory even of how to think as the first drops of water danced atop my forehead. My every muscle tightened, body wrenching away with more force than it could take. Something cracked. I didn’t feel it. My teeth ground together even as my jaw strained to open, to drag as much of that precious, stale air into my lungs as I could.

“Who are yuh working with?” Rage. There was no suffocating torrent of liquid. It was barely a splash, but he knew exactly how little work he needed to do to rend me into that hysterical frenzy that so effortlessly robbed me of all but my most ancient, primal instinct, and I loathed him for how quickly it worked, lips wrenching back into a snarl.

The next gush held none of that earlier restraint. Water filled my mouth and flooded my nose, instantly sending me into ragged, gagging coughs, body jerking in an effort to at least lean onto my side that I might rid my airway of that burning, frigid certainty of drowning.

“Who orchestrated the explosion?” I thought of the mercenary as another surge of water poured over me just long enough to leave me gasping.

How do I free him!

“Who was the target?” I don’t know if there were words in whatever scream I felt tearing through my throat, but he waited mere seconds, unmoved by my choked cries.

Tell me.

“Who placed the bombs?” His emotionless voice reverberated through the darkness, lifting the mask just clear of my lips after each question before dragging it back down in the wake of answers that left him wanting, and I could only flail atop that unyielding surface as he unleashed that frigid water again and again.

I thought of the hatred in my brother’s eyes as my mind flickered at the edges of suffocation.

“Who ordered the hit?”

Did I deserve this?

“Who’s behind the assassination attempt?”

Why didn’t he just kill me?

“Tell me who ordered the hit.”

Kill me.

“Who were you sent to kill?”

Kill me kill me kill me

“Who placed the bombs?”

His earlier boredom was beginning to turn impatient. My body barely managed to struggle anymore. Didn’t matter.

“Who ordered the hit?”

I wanted that darkness. Yearned for it… because anything was better than this endless torture, hours and seconds and years of drowning with no hope of it ever stopping, no sense of time, no sense of self.

“Who-”

The sudden flurry of sounds meant nothing. I’d long since lost any grasp on reality, more certain that I was already dead than I was that those harsh, broken wheezes voiced my own, failing attempts at breath. I don’t know when that sack had been removed nor what muttered pleas tumbled listlessly from numb lips. Flashes of grey and white armor held no meaning, nor did whispered words blaring through speakers, though I remembered some fleeting thought toward the futility of whispering into a mic.

Movement. It didn’t feel like that perceived sense of endlessly falling preceding loss of consciousness… It felt like… running? My eyelids bat against the illusion painted atop the black cloth I was so sure awaited me the instant I managed to truly see. It wasn’t until I tried to move that that madness returned. No restraints held my arms trapped behind me. No unyielding board pressed painfully into my back. I was held only by the arms looped beneath my knees and shoulders, and the instant I understood that, I fought with every hint of strength granted to me by that panic-induced insanity.

I couldn’t hear anything above the chorus of sudden shouts, focus trained solely on freeing myself of that near embrace. I’d barely begun to thrash before feeling the floor rise up to meet me, body instantly kicking out to distance myself from my captor until my heels slid useless atop muck-coated stone, doing nothing more than pressing my back more firmly into the wall behind me.

“…” Muffled words lost beneath the pounding of my heart and the rasp of air catching in too-moist lungs fluttering with hyperventilated breaths stolen between wet coughs. I tried to draw my arms between myself and the figure kneeling before me, but could barely convince my hands to twitch, flared fingers trembling mere inches above the ground.

“…! …ack! Come on, kid; come back!” His voice finally broke through that frenzy, and my eyes locked on his, every muscle freezing beyond that persistent shiver I couldn’t begin to quell. He seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if I’d break again. My brows drew weakly together, thoughts too frantic to more than stare at him for several seconds.

“…W… Wol…” His shoulders sank at my stammered attempt to call his name.

“Right here, kid.” It was such a strange thing to hear the gentleness in his voice, but that lingering sense of wrong drew me further from the shattered recess of my mind, vaguely noting the four figures posted around us, and I didn’t need to see their helms to know who they were, that they had their weapons trained on the corridors stretching out at either side of me, ready to fire at the faintest hint of a threat. They’d found me… This was real… So, why couldn’t I free myself of that relentless fear, that deafening need to run, to find some dark corner and hide?

“I need to get you out of here.” He explained, words purposefully slowed in a way I should have taken offense to. In that moment, however, that slowness was the only reason I could make sense of them. Get out… They were going to get me out of here… but my body revolted from the very thought of letting him touch me again, of letting anyone touch…

“You can hold on to me, or I can carry you, but we can’t stay here.” I wanted to shout at that familiar, cold logic, the silent apology nestled in his hushed statement, frustration spiking at the weakness preventing my hands from clasping over my ears regardless how useless I knew the gesture to be.

“Hey – hey, look at me.” The guilt tainting his command made me want to scream even as my eyes automatically flicked back to his, some distant thought finally realizing he’d forgone protocol in favor of letting me see his face, helmet abandoned on the ground beside him. My name left his lips in a whisper, head ducking slightly to draw my unsteady gaze back toward him.

“We need to move.” My jaw tensed with curses and pleas and senseless shouts, despite my inability to hold enough breath to manage more than a stammered whimper, chest still seizing with half coughs from the phantom sensation of flooded lungs.

“Do you want me to sedate you?” He barely murmured the quiet offer, head ducking toward me. Did I… I thought of that blissful emptiness… that escape from this fear, from the pain of wounds I couldn’t remember sustaining, from the anger wrought by my own inability to force some semblance of control over myself, and, with a sob, I nodded. His expression darkened, but he said nothing as he returned the gesture.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered, and the tremble seizing through me redoubled, terror spiking at the threat of subjecting myself to that darkness. “You’re going to be alright, kid… Just close your eyes.” He promised… I’d never doubted him before… not like this… but how could I possibly believe him? I knew he could see how frightened I was, how lost I was in that fear; I knew he was counting every second wasted trying to guide me through this, how each of those seconds redoubled the risk of being caught, but he said nothing as I struggled to find myself through that panic, and he wasted no time when I finally managed to force my eyes shut.

The instant I felt the prick of needles, my body balked, managing to jump mere inches away, but his touch was already there, hand delicately catching my cheek as those fleeting reserves of strength abandoned me, muscles quickly going limp against him.

“Alright… I’ve got you… I’ve got you.” A final shiver darted down my spine as the warmth of his breath danced across my scalp, barely noting how carefully he eased me back into his arms, but the distant familiarity of finding myself nestled against him, of tasting his scent in my every stammered gasp even as I felt my mind begin to slip away was a comfort I clung to until even that faded.

Next Chapter

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#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #104th battalion #star wars tcw #wolffe #commander wolffe #profanity #tbb oc #my writings #star wars fanfic #first person reader #febuwhump #slow burn #torture #waterboarding #drowning #interrogation #panic #panic attack #blame #self-blame #giving up #longing for death #temporary insanity #sedation #guilt #whump #reader whump #soft wolffe

[mouschiwrites]

Heyy:)) I love you’re writing soo muchhh

Could u do a Lloyd x fem reader so basically he’s madly in love with her but he’s mean to her in school and then they meet as ninjas and he tells her about that wonderful girl in his school and she gives him advice and the next day at school he does exactly what she said and she wants to meet him alone and talks to him and then they both know they’re indantiny

Thank you for your kind words! I hope this is okay ^^

Word count: 1k

Ninjago - Giving the Green Ninja Advice to Ask His Crush (You) Out

“Well, look at Miss Smarty-Pants over here,” Lloyd teased, leaning over your desk to stare at your math test. You had gotten a good score, but suddenly you were wishing you hadn’t.

Glancing at Lloyd’s paper, your frown deepened. He had gotten a lower score than you; that’s probably why he was antagonizing you. You just shoved the paper into your backpack, slouching in your chair and staring at your lap self-consciously. Only Lloyd could ruin good news like that. You weren’t sure why, but the boy seemed dead set on making you miserable every time you interacted.

You gritted your teeth at the memory. You were grateful to be able to channel your frustrations from school into a good cause: being a ninja. Jumping from the rooftops, chasing down criminals, engaging in combat—all fantastic ways to let out a little anger.

You had just finished preventing a robbery when you decided to take a little break. You found a perch atop a tall apartment complex overlooking the city, and you plopped down gratefully on the edge. It wasn’t long until a familiar green figure found you, taking a seat beside you.

“Hey,” you greeted cheerfully. You were feeling much better already, but the appearance of your friend was really the cherry on the sundae.

“Hi,” he wheezed. Apparently, he was also taking a break from crime-fighting.

You giggled. “Rough night?”

He took a moment to catch his breath before responding. “Rougher day at school.”

“Oh, really? What happened?”

“The girl I like did not respond well to my flirting.”

“Ooh,” you cooed, kicking your dangling feet excitedly. “The Green Ninja has a crush!”

You couldn’t see his cheeks, but you were certain they were red. “Yeah, heh. She’s really awesome. We have a few classes together at school.”

“You should ask her out,” you ventured boldly.

“Funny you should bring that up—I was going to ask for your advice anyway.”

You clapped your hands together giddily. “Okay, tell me what you know about her.”

“Well, I know she likes (favorite drink).”

“Okay, so definitely buy her a bottle of that. And… hmm… can you draw?”

“Sort of. Only cartoons, though.”

“That’s fine. Draw a little cute caricature of her on a card that says something like ‘I like you, please go out with me’ or whatever.”

Your advice session was cut short when you heard a shriek in the alleyway below. Sharing a quick look of apprehension, you both sprang to your feet and rushed into action.

The next day, you were doodling absentmindedly in your notebook while you waited for first period to begin. You jumped as an object slammed onto your desk. It was a fresh bottle of (favorite drink) with a little card tied to the cap. You looked up just in time to see Lloyd hurrying away.

You sighed. The card probably said something rude, you guessed, but you opened it anyway. To your surprise, it actually contained a rather cute cartoonish drawing that looked strikingly similar to your own cantenance. Below it was written: “I like you. Please go out with me.”

You stared at the card for a second. A strange sense of familiarity overpowered your confusion at something like this coming from Lloyd. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something you’d seen (or maybe talked about?) before. Then it hit you. With a completely dumbfounded expression you looked between Lloyd and the card, back and forth a couple times before clapping the card shut and turning to face Lloyd in the seat next to you.

“Well? What do you thin—”

“Meet me after school. Out by the dumpsters.”

Lloyd blinked at you. His lips curved in a slight smile, and he opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced by the bell.

The day couldn’t have gone by slower for either of you, but finally you found yourselves face to face behind the school.

You held up the card. “Who told you to do this?”

Lloyd’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Um, a friend gave me some advice.”

You looked around, making sure you were alone, before leaning in to whisper: “Was this ‘friend’ a ninja?”

“Wh… how did you know that?”

“Because that was me! I’m the f/c ninja!”

“You?!”

You stared at each other with wide eyes for a few seconds, tension growing thick in the silence. Then, without warning, you burst into laughter.

“Wait—wait,” you gasped between laughs. “So when you said the girl didn’t respond well to your ‘flirting’, you meant that stupid rude remark you made about my test?”

Lloyd’s brow cocked innocently. “Was that not flirting?”

“No!” You erupted into another fit of giggles.

“Huh. Well, I’m glad I came to you for advice, then. I’m clearly a lost cause when it comes to romancing.”

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I totally thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you. I don’t hate you as Y/n, and I don’t hate you as the f/c ninja. Though I suppose maybe you prefer me as the Green Ninja.”

You chewed your cheek thoughtfully. “Well, I’d certainly appreciate it if you could treat me as nicely as he does.”

“Of course I will. I’m sorry I was so mean before. I guess it was my backward way of flirting.”

“All is forgiven.” You never expected you’d be saying that to Lloyd, but knowing that he was also the Green Ninja, your companion of the night, the words spilled almost automatically from your mouth. It was strange; knowing what you knew now, your hatred for the boy had evaporated at once.

“So, uh… what do you say? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes!”

Lloyd threw his arms around your middle, lifting you up and spinning you around while laughing gleefully. When he put you down, he pulled out his vibrating phone from his pocket.

“Oh, I’ve gotta get home.”

“Okay,” you breathed, cheeks flushed from giggling while he twirled you. “See you tonight?”

As he turned to walk away, he shot you a smirk. “Yeah. See you tonight, f/c-ninja-slash-Y/n.”

Thanks for your request! And thank you for reading, take care of yourselves precious gems <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon x reader #lloyd x reader

[hornedqueenofhell]

Mind if I Drop in? Pt 1

Crossposted from AO3

Eddie wheezes as he spins around another corner, praying he’s put enough distance between him and the rest of the guards for this to work. Stupid fucking castle hallways always looking the same, like would it kill you to put out any artwork? Or just stick one of those directional signs you see at a fork in the road somewhere. Something like ‘dungeon two lefts then a right, thieves of valuable family heirlooms take a right, two lefts, then go up two floors to escape with your goods’. Eh that one might be too wordy.

He shoves the stolen crown in his bag and fishes around in the worn leather for the scroll he needs. Loose papers, no. Song lyrics on scraps of paper, no! …Aha! Bless Dustin he thinks as he pulls out the spell scroll.

“Alright Henderson, let’s hope this works.” He huffs as he lifts his bag onto his back.

Eddie can hear the footsteps and clanking armor get closer as he carefully breaks the seal and unfurls the scroll, taking great care not to touch the sigil until the paper is flat on the ground.

“Freeze!” He hears as the guard catches sight of him. Eddie just grins and gives the man, who is sporting a fantastic mustache in the bards opinion, a cheeky salute as he slaps his hand to the sigil and lets the Teleportation spell activate.

Now, Eddie’s not used to teleportation spells so he doesn’t exactly expect to stick the landing, he is just a simple bard afterall. But he’s definitely not expecting the spell to dump him on his back in a familiar tavern, right into the arms of a stranger. A stranger with very familiar hazel eyes that he must have passed at least three portraits of on his way in. A stranger whose crown is currently sitting in Eddie’s bag.

“Umm, who the hell are you?” The stranger… oh who the fuck is he kidding, Steve Harrington the crown prince asks him. Eddie scrambles out of his arms, knocking over not only the princes’ full cup of beer but also the empty stool next to the prince which falls with a loud clatter and only draws more attention to them.

Steve cringes at the display and tugs his cloak tighter around him. Eddie kind of wants to point out that he’s drawing more attention to himself by keeping his hood up but he was supposed to be in the next town over where his horse and his friends are waiting for him, not here in the arms of the man he just stole from. What the fuck Henderson?!

“Just a bard, got a wonky teleportation scroll is all. I deeply apologize your Highness.” Eddie sweeps into a bow sinking low enough his curls brush the ground. He kinda figured Steve would be pissed about the rough landing and the spilled drink but he’s not expecting the hand over his mouth as Steve manhandles him back to standing.

The prince now has him pinned to the bar, his eyes wild as he glances around to see if anyone heard Eddie, which they very much so did. Eddie never had much of an indoor voice. Steve's hood is slipping off and Eddie reaches out to fix it, not that it matters much. He is surprised though to see Steve flinch when Eddie’s hand comes into view, and not in the ‘oh you surprised me' way.

Before he can ask Steve to unhand him the door to the tavern opens. Several palace guards storm in, weapons drawn.

“Nobody move!” The leader shouts, unfortunately Eddie recognizes him too, and so does Steve from the way fear leaks into his eyes. The guard almost immediately clocks their awkward position and it only takes a second more for the guard to recognize them both. “Freeze!” He shouts and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Why do they always say that?” He mutters behind Steve’s hand, Steve turns to look at him again in the same moment Eddie grabs a fistful of the inside of Steve’s cloak. Perfect. With a twist of his fingers and a few words Eddie snaps his fingers, sacrificing the handful of fleece he’d grabbed, and causing an illusionary fog to fill the tavern.

Now the entire tavern is shouting and shifting around as Eddie ducks from Steve’s grasp.

“Come on, this way.” Eddie says, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him past the stools and out through the back door with ease. Why Eddie did it even he’s not sure, but he’s made his bed now. Sending out a mental apology to his uncle for making a mess in the man's tavern he pulls Steve down the street and through a few more alleys.

Steve struggles against him a bit, “Where are you taking me, let go! Let go of me!”

Eddie yanks them into the mouth of an alley and this time he’s the one throwing Steve against something.

“Unless you want to get us both in trouble I suggest you shut up right now, with all due politeness your Highness.” Eddie hisses, his fingers are likely bruising the hinge of Steve’s jaw but he doesn’t let up. Steve has one hand wrapped around the wrist gripping him, the other he barely notices until the silver glints in the moonlight and Steve swings at him.

“I’m not going back there.” Steve is just as venomous as Eddie springs back before the prince can gut him.

“I don’t give a fuc-” The guards clanking closer causes both of their eyes to widen. Eddie reaches for his belt and lunges at Steve. Metal clashes as their daggers meet between their bodies. Eddie bodily forces Steve back into the wall, panic giving him enough of a burst of strength to catch the younger man off guard.

“Now, either you behave like a good little princess or I’ll fucking gut you right here and now.” Eddie’s lips brush against Steve’s as the lie spills between them. Eddie hates killing, is barely capable of hunting for himself when the moment calls for it. Stevie doesn’t need to know that though.

“You even try and I’ll scream. You’ll be hanged by sunrise.” Steve bites in response, their daggers grinding against each other but neither of them willing to try anything risky to disarm the other.

Eddie’s free hand flashes out and grips a fistful of Steve’s hair yanking his head back harshly. He isn’t expecting the breathy cry that leaves the prince's lips, he clearly wasn’t either going by the flush crawling across his face.

“Oh princess, if you wanted me to make you scream. All you have to do is ask.” Eddie purrs, placing a kiss to the side of Steve’s throat.

Eddie is ashamed to admit that he was distracted enough by the feeling of Steve going boneless in his arms that he didn’t see the prince move. He’s placing an apology kiss to the hinge of Steve’s jaw, fully intent on working his way further in when Steve shoves him off.

They go crashing into the other side of the alley, it’s really not a very wide space, and this time it’s Eddie’s back against the wall. He can feel the points of his stolen prize digging into his back. Before he can make another snarky comment or threat Steve has Eddie’s curls wrapped around his fist and is returning the favor. Eddie moans out, dagger slipping from his grasp as he scrabbles at the wall under Steve. The prince presses the tip of his dagger to Eddie’s abdomen, Eddie thrashes around and manages to get his hand around Steve’s wrist between them. Trying to force the point of it away from his squishy parts, thank you very much. Steve yanks on his hair again, taking advantage of their position to leverage his height against Eddie.

“Well, it looks like you have the same weakness.” Steve smirks, his tongue darts out to wet his lips and brushes over Eddie’s lower lip. They’re panting in each other's mouths now, hands not fighting for the dagger between them gripped onto each other's person.

“I’ve never minded a little pain with my pleasure, your highness.” Eddie pulls against the grip on his curls to capture Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth and give him a sharp nip. He tugs on that sweet fullness as Steve pulls him away, his skull cradled in Steve’s fingers instead of colliding with the brick.

Pt 2

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #dustin henderson #bard!eddie munson #prince!steve harrington #prince steve harrington #bard eddie munson #teleportation scroll gone wrong #steddiefic chronicles

[kudzuoath]

Breath and Omniscience

Temperance goes down in battle. Gale doesn’t take it well. 

cw: for blood, injuries, possibly body horror? I don't think I'm particularly graphic but I'm warning you just in case.

–--

I miscalculated, is all he can think. I know that spell. I know it. But I miscalculated.

He spotted the enemy sorcerer’s familiar movements and knew the spell immediately. Had known exactly how much power to imbue his counter with.

Only he’d been wrong.

Temperance lay face down in a pool of her own blood and melting shards of ice. She wasn’t moving. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

“Either help her or do something useful, wizard, this battle isn’t done yet!”

Jaheira. Tearing past him, blood running down the side of her face, sabres slick with gore. All of them were hurting. They were used to Temperance taking point and drawing fire – but Jaheira was the next best thing with their paladin down. With an explosion of feathers and a piercing shriek, she proved it by shifting into an owlbear and savaging the enemy barbarian.

Gale only had eyes for the sorcerer across the way. Temperance was still surrounded. If he tried to help her now, they’d both go down. It still took something vital from him to leave her laying there.

It wasn't cowardice, but rationality.

He hated himself for thinking logically anyway. His hands itched to lay on her and find her pulse. To prove life.

No, he couldn’t run to her.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the bastards bleed.

Or rather, burn.

Gale didn’t tug at the weave so much as tear at it, teeth barred and fingers rigid claws as he spun a mote of fire into a raging maelstrom. The sorcerer’s scream when the world exploded around him did nothing to assuage Gale’s thundering heartbeat, or the cold chill of terror slinking down his spine.

She cannot die. I won’t allow it.

He had no spells of healing. And little knowledge of it. He’d rarely found cause to regret that fact. Until now.

His hands blurred. His throat went raw. His typically meticulous composition of the weave burning him as the spells slipped through his fingers and out into the world. Inflicting the bane of any element he could muster upon their worthless hides.

Temperance, Temperance, Temperance, don’t be dead.

The rest of the fight blurred. It might have lasted seconds. It might have lasted hours – though that wasn’t likely. All he knew was the second their last enemy fell he was running. Shoving bodies off of his Paladin with a strength he didn’t know he had. His feet slid through the mud made from Temperance’s blood, and the spell that took her down. The scent of it hung sharp and copper in the air. And when he saw her face – too pale, too still, his fingers went numb.

“Now is no time to die,” he chastised. His own voice felt distant.

Jaheira knelt beside him. Without speaking she reached through the cradle of his arms and laid softly glowing hands on the wound in Temperance’s chest.

“That is a lot of blood,” Astarion commented.

Gale noted with the same distant way he noted everything at the moment how far away the vampire sounded.

Good. Good of him to keep his distance now.

“Come on little hero, get up,” Jaheira muttered. The glow grew brighter. He could see the threads of the weave thickening into small rivers of magic as the druid pumped more energy into the spell.

Temperance’s eyes flickered. The bubbling wheezing quality of her breath lessened. And something horrible gnawing at his heart unstuck its teeth.

“Temperance?”

She groaned and weakly flapped her hand until it landed on one of his arms. “Hate… fainting,” she mumbled.

“Ha! You did something little more dramatic than a mere faint,” Jeheira said. “I think you almost caused your Gale a breakdown.”

His paladin mumbled something he couldn’t decipher, a stream of disjointed syllables that might well have been infernal. Then she cracked one eye – the purple one – to look at him. A dazed smile crossed her face.

“‘Lo, Gale.”

Her lips were blue. And she was a tiefling with a typically human skin tone.

"Temperance," he said, voice breaking.

Jaheira stood. She said… something not particularly important to Astarion like ‘give them a moment’ and then both rogue and druid were. Elsewhere. Not important. Gale could only stare. His hand – trembling, he realized – went to her face. He tried to wipe away some of the blood. All he managed was to smear it around a little.

“I don’t think my heart can take you doing that again,” he said. And even these words felt too distant, too far away. There was a roaring in his ears like the sea in a tempest. “Please… don’t… don’t do that again.”

Temperance reached for him like her arms weighed two hundred pounds. It took her a try or two before her hands landed in his hair. Rougher than she likely meant to, she pulled him down into a kiss.

It tasted of blood, and he mostly missed her lips with her shoddy aim. And when he found those lips with his, they were still too cold. It took everything in him not to crush her against him. She was still hurt. They needed to get her to Shadowheart, to camp, to rest.

“You’re alive,” he murmured against her skin. Over and over. Lips brushing her forehead, her temple, the end of her nose.

And she seemed to be trying to comfort him. Her hands must have woken at some point, for now he became aware of her fingers carding through his hair.

“I’m alive,” she agreed hoarsely. Then with a touch of sternness – “Gale… breathe. If you pass out… on top of me right now… I don’t think I can move you.”

His laugh ripped out of him. He buried his head in her neck, breathing in the bloody scent of her. Under the copper were the familiar scents of leather, and something herbal and minty from the soap she used. It grounded his panicked heart still further to find her skin warming here.

Temperance hooked her arms around him in a hug.

“Breathe,” she admonished again. “Come on, Gale of Waterdeep. It’s the easiest thing in the world – breathe.”

This laugh sounded a little less mad. And the shake to his limbs was starting to settle.

“I am… so sorry. I am so sorry. I thought I had that spell. I thought I knew –”

She shifted, finding his face with hers. Pressed their foreheads together. Later he’d realize how distressingly sticky it was, from all the blood. At least they were right by a water source. Even if it was probably salted.

“You’re not omniscient,” she scolded. “You didn’t cast it.”

Not omniscient, no. Not yet.

But he could be.

The idea was not a new one. He couldn’t say it was stronger than it had been before either – but the pale, bloodless face of Temperance was certainly adding fuel to the fire that had lit inside him shortly after he chose life over forgiveness.

He closed his eyes, and leaned into her touch.

“I promise you, I will do better,” he said. “Be better.”

Be who she deserved.

Her chilly hand on his cheek. Black claw points pressing into his skin just slightly, just enough to get his attention.

Temperance’s eyes weren’t clear exactly, but she was looking at him with a fierce stubbornness he’d come to recognize. And with so much warmth below all that worry. Her knit brow, her half smile.

“I understand.” And she would, wouldn’t she? There’d been times where she was the last one fighting.

Never again.

He was never letting that happen again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale #gale/tav #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #my writing #gale deals with things SUPER healthily u guys :) #this is the specifically the fight between the stone lord thugs and nine-fingers folk at the beach in rivington #i think this was also the first time Odette went down in her playthrough #or at least the first time with gale in the party #his cry for u going down reeks of dissassociation in my opinion

[daebreaker1]

The Queen, The Hunter, and Their Prey

Pairing: Vil x Pomfiore GN!Reader x Rook (Poly)

Reader Pronouns Used: They/Them

Age Rating: 16+

Content Warnings: Teasing, some dirty jokes, I don’t know exactly what to call it but you’re stuck to a tree and basically immobile.

Word Count: 796

Note: This is my first time trying to write x reader so like... be gentle lol. And no proofreading.

You had always enjoyed walking around the forests surrounding your dorm. Though the dorm building itself was lovely, there was something so calming about the silence of the forest. Smiling and continuing to wander, slightly mindlessly you suddenly felt eyes on you. Shuddering slightly and looking up to the trees, you decided to hurry back to the dorm building. However as you turned, you felt one of your long sleeves be yanked back, effectively pining you to the huge tree behind you. Before you could even try to pull it out another arrow came wheezing through the tree line, pinning your other arm to the tree. As you looked up to the tree line, and focused a bit more, you could vaguely see a purple clad figure drawing back another arrow, which embedded itself along the collar of your shirt, mer inches from your throat. “R-Rook?!” You squeaked, still looking up at the figure, which was drawing back another arrow. Moments later the fourth arrow buried itself parallel to the third. As you watched the figure jumped deftly down and disappeared into the woods. You pulled your hands lightly against the arrows but you were stuck tightly to the tree. Sighing you leaned your head against the tree and waited. “Rook?” You attempted to shout and coo at the same time, hoping to lure him back to you.After waiting for a few minutes, you heard footsteps meandering towards you, a sure sign it wasn’t Rook.

“Oh my,” Vil’s voice cooed, just outside of your range of vision. “You seem to have gotten yourself into quite the situation, my crowned jewel.” He stepped in front of you and traced a hand along your jaw, tilting your head upwards to force you to stare into his eyes. He had clearly been interrupted as he was getting ready, as he was still wearing his dark blue and purple dead husband robe. “Haven’t I warned you against letting your guard down in these woods?” He said, shaking his head sadly. At the same time, you felt a much more calloused hand gently touch your exposed neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Rook laughed from beside you, still keeping out of your line of vision. “Ah yes, my prey. These woods are so dangerous, who knows what you could meet in these woods.” Ripping the arrow closest to him out of the tree with one fell swoop he planted a gentle kiss on your jawbone. “If your darling hunter hadn’t happened across you, what would have happened to you?” He pulled away, still taking care to keep out of your eye line. As you attempted to turn your head, Vil’s strong hand kept you staring directly into his eyes.

“Now now… Keep your eyes on me. Do not forget who came to rescue you from your plight.” He smiled slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Pulling away almost too quickly he sighed, looking to the side at where you assumed Rook was standing “Honestly, my hunter. What are we going to do with them? We can’t allow our precious to keep getting into trouble like this.” He sighed and stroked your jawbone with one of his fingers. He hummed softly and turned your head so you were looking directly at Rook, smiling mere inches from your face purposely stunting his breath. As he exhaled he captured your lips into a deep kiss, quickly followed by several more peppering your lips with so many kisses that you felt your breath sticking in your throat. “Now, now Rook.” Vil’s voice cut through the fuzz that had begun to form in your brain, snapping you back to Rook’s lips slowly parting from yours. 

Before you could catch your breath however, your head was roughly turned and Vil’s softer lips pressed to yours. “Oh! Mon Poison!” Rook trilled, directly next to your ear. “Spoiling my fun is not very beautiful of you.” He sighed, and pressed gentle kisses to every inch of your face that he could reach. He moved suddenly and when Vil pulled away slightly he swooped in and pressed his own lips to yours again. He laughed and moved his head slightly, allowing Vil to press his lips to yours, at the same time that Vil did.

Laughing slightly at your flushed red face, Rook quickly pulled out both arrows keeping your arms in place as Vil pulled out the one from your collar. Smirking, as your legs gave out Rook caught you and lifted you gently into a bridal position, his arrows laying forgotten on the ground, Vil laughed and leaned down to be directly next to your ear “Now, my crown jewel. Have you learned your lesson, or do you need more in-depth education?”

#twisted wonderland #x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x rook hunt x reader

[harryforvogue]

Part Two | Chapter Thirteen: Now I Long for Yesterday

Newport, Rhode Island

July 1919

We switch trains once. It's nighttime when we arrive at our hotel. It's a smaller place than before, but compared to Aunt Geraldine's estate, anything would be considered small.

Harry doesn't like my idea to create a wall between us, which is smarter on his part because the size of the bed is concerning. I can barely fit on it myself, let alone two people.

The best thing about the room is that we have a balcony. It leads us to a view of the street, empty and quiet at a time like this. The scent of fresh rain is relaxing and sleep inducing.

Because it's so late, there's nothing for me to do but fall onto the bed while Harry makes his bed on the floor, quietly making sure all the corners of the sheets are even and then he's not going to be rolling under the bed during the night.

I'm happy with the conversations we've had on the train. Harry lays down on the floor and glances at me.

"Goodnight," he says.

"Goodnight," I reply. "Thank you for talking to me today."

"I don't think I should be thanked for that."

"Still."

The silence is enough to put me to sleep, tired limbs and eyelids both failing and giving into the fatigue of the journey. The mattress is quite comfortable, though I'm unsure if it's because of my sleepy state or the quality of the hotel. Regardless, I find the darkness welcoming me easily.

I'm half asleep when a loud noise forces me back to my conscious state. I jolt awake, jerking into an upright position, whipping my head around to see what caused the noise. It comes again, a strained, choked sound from my right and I peer over the side of the bed, wondering if Harry's heard the noise as well. It takes me a second to realize that the noise is coming from him.

Harry's sitting up, his knees pressed towards his chest, body trembling. His arms are tightly wound around himself, face hidden beneath his hair, tucked into his knees. Despite the lack of light, I can make out that his nails press tightly into his palms.

Quickly, I get up and lower myself to the floor.

"Hey," I whisper, crawling slowly towards him. I raise a hand and hover it over his curly head. "Hey, what is it?" I land my hand on his head, scratching his scalp to physically show my presence. The sobs are loud and filled with anguish, his body jerking with every desperate cry, folding into himself as I continue to pet him.

"Harry." I'm gently holding his head, trying to push it up. "It's alright. It was just a dream." That is my assumption and it renders me completely helpless as I'm not in his mind or in control of it.

He shudders through another cry and pushes back against me. Through delayed realization, it hits me that he doesn't mean to push away, but bury my hand further into his hair. I rise to my knees and slowly push the curls off his face. My heart's thundering in my chest, fingers shaky. Not once does he stop crying.

The matters worsen when he clenches in self defense and lets out a noise aside from a sob. It's more vocal, more like a desperate cry like a wounded animal.

"It's hurting."

"Harry. What's hurting? Look at me," I demand urgently, giving up with picking his head up, now forcing his knees down.

I loop my arms around his calves and pull them, fighting against the hold of his locked elbows. I tug relentlessly and finally drag them down when his weak muscles give out. Before he can draw himself into a ball again, I place a knee on either side of his hips and climb the rest of his thighs, sitting myself on his stomach. He covers his face with his hands, holding the strands of his hair that have fallen onto his forehead once more.

"Get off," he wheezes, elbows thrusting outwards to jab me in the chest. "Get off of me."

"No." I feel his body quiver under me. I wrap my hands around his wrist and begin to tug. His strength is more firm this time around and he fights well, however, I end up triumphant when I lean down and bite into his wrist, catching him off guard. He yelps and sharply glances up, and I take the opportunity to grab his face firmly and force him to look up.

"Stop fighting me," I say, locking his head in my hands. His pale green eyes shimmer with tears and I'm unsure if he can even see my face in the moonlight. "Stop!"

"God, get the fuck off!"

"No!" I match his volume, digging my nails slightly in his cheek, not enough to make marks but enough to make him listen. His knees bend to strike me anywhere, hard enough to get me to roll off, but he measures his strength wrong, unable to do more than shiver and lay his knees back flat against the ground.

"Please," he whispers this time, shaking his head. "Please get off."

"I will not get off."

He doesn't give up for a while, pushing with all his strength, his veins bulging from his arms, but he's too weak to move me. He waits and then begins to desperately push again, resembling an animal in a trap.

After a few attempts, he finally rests limply against the side of the bed, his arms fallen to his sides with defeat, eyes closed. All the tension in his body seems to disappear as he slumps back, spent.

He rests momentarily as I watch his chest rise and fall deeply.

"Harry?"

My fingers are trembling when I release him, hand aching from the grip I had on him. The fright I should be feeling isn't hitting me yet. I have never seen my husband so frantic and wild, desperate. I search for the feeling; I want to be scared, but I'm not. Worry is the right word. With every rise and fall of his chest, I feel myself calm down as if it's hypnosis.

Laying a hand on his forehead, I check for a fever. Nothing. Just cold sweats, droplets running down the side of his neck. His lymph nodes aren't swollen. He's not ill. My sleeve absorbs the sweat on his neck and shoulders and wipes the rest away when the material is drenched.

When he finally opens his eyes, he whispers in a scratched voice, "Could you move up a bit? You're sitting on my gut."

"What do you need, Harry? Let me help you." I move so my thighs aren't suffocating him.

His head is angled and the light touches his face perfectly. The tears have stopped, but the streaks remain. I brush them away and wipe my hand on his shirt.

"I don't know."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No."

"Would you like some water?"

"No."

I reach onto the table beside the bed anyways and bring him water, holding the glass to his lips and a hand under his chin to make sure any cold water doesn't spill onto his shirt. He drinks deeply and whispers "more" when I pull it away.

Once he's finished, I set the empty glass aside and wipe the corners of his mouth. He doesn't say anything.

"Did you have a dream?" I ask him quietly,

"I did. But it's over." He forces himself to sit up a bit, quivering fingers on his heart as if to check his pulse. "Go back to bed."

"If you think I'm going back to bed," I say offended, "you don't know me at all."

"Unfortunately I know you quite well, don't I? If you insist on staying, how about you don't crush me. I told you to scoot up."

I move again and then glance down at my hands on his torso, resting on his sternum. My fingers drum against the bone.

"Is there anything you need? I will get it for you. Maybe some warm milk like last time? Or... or a hot bath? Or we can talk about your dream? Anything you want."

His chest barely moves this time when he takes a deep breath, completely beat. "No. Annaliese, and I would rather not talk about it." He grabs my hands and pulls them away from his body, forcing them back to my sides. "Please. Go to sleep. I'm exhausted."

My hands automatically return to his shirt, holding the fabric again. Harry takes my hands a little harsher this time and brings them to the floor, holding them there. "I said to stop it."

When he releases my wrists, I keep them there. Harry tilts his head back again and his shoulders fall. Long lashes brush against his eyebrows as he blinks. The clock ticks loudly.

"Come to bed with me."

Harry's shoulders tremble. "I can't," he whispers, throwing his head back. "I can't."

"I won't touch you," I promise. "I just... I need you there to make sure you're okay. It's easier for me to take care of you if you're next to me. I would have woken up earlier if I'd heard you."

"You're sitting in my lap, Annaliese. And I don't need you to help me. You're not my mother."

He's right: I'm not his mother, but the intensity of his tone worries me.

"Well, me sitting in your lap is different. I just wanted your attention. Look, I'll get up and I'll wait for you on the bed, alright? I know it's uncomfortable, but the bed isn't all that great anyways."

He looks reluctant.

"Can we at least try?" I ask him, wiping more of his sweat. He moves away from my hand as if I've burned him.

I slowly stand up, wary of his movements, and go to sit on the bed. He stares out the window for a moment before standing up. It's all on his face: the pain and the stubbornness that keeps him from making his way to the bed. The gears in his head are turning, his breath quickening as he continues to gaze outside, blinking at the sharp moonlight when he tilts his head too far.

It's too hot in this room, a given for a midsummer night, however the warmth is anything but comforting. My thighs stick together, the slickness behind my knees becoming unbearable until I fold my legs to my chest and let my feet rest comfortably on the sheets. He still refuses to move. Insects stick to the window, some pressed together in bunches, and others isolated from each other, like lone nomads during the hot summer night. He might be looking at the bugs, or maybe looking the moon directly into its eyes. Whatever it is, it's very silent.

"One day," Harry says quietly, rubbing his knuckles over his cheek and then tracing the scar cutting through his eyebrow. "I will tell you about France."

"And that's not today."

"It's not today. But I will tell you about it. I can't tell you about my father, though."

Dreads fill me instantly. That is a topic I will never be able to help with. The dream wasn't about the war, as I'd so wrongfully predicted.

His father has haunted him for years, both in his childhood and adult life, and while I may never know the full extent of the injuries, I know better to question his trauma. Thinking about his father fills me with rage, for being unable to do anything and for also never being able to know all of it. A dominant part of me never wishes to know how badly he inflicted pain on his only son, out of fright and blind anger, but a smaller part of me wishes to know so I can understand the man I married just a little bit more.

The thought of Harry being haunted by his father as well as the war is unbearable.

Finally, he blinks and picks his head up.

"I'll wash my face."

I wait patiently, hearing the water turn on and off and then his steps padding back to the bed. He sits beside me, ghost-like as if his body is just as absent as his mind.

"I can't do this, Annaliese."

"You can if you want to," I tell him, sitting up and moving over some more. "It's small but we can make it work. Lay down and get comfortable."

He doesn't budge an inch. "You're afraid of me."

"What? I am not."

"You're shaking."

Sure enough, my hands are still shaking and no matter how hard I try, they don't stop. Forming my hands into fists, I conceal them from his eyes by tucking them under my thighs and shake my head. "I'm not. I have no reason to be afraid of you. And I never will be."

I hear his now gentle breathing, contrasting my heavy, labored ones. He hears the difference too. His eyes run over my face, his expression unreadable again. The momentary ability to read his face has passed, and I immediately miss it, staring at the blank expression on my husband's face. Nothing happens for a minute, nothing audible except out breathing. I open my mouth to argue with him again as the lack of noise is unnerving.

My breath catches when Harry leans in slowly, his eyes trained on my mouth. The kiss is slow, mouth gently becoming acquainted with mine, his hand resting on the back of my neck firmly. This kiss is far different from the one I laid on his mouth in the train; it's less directionless and more determined. His lips are cold as if he's drank more water, face still sticky with sweat. I'm holding his face desperately, craning my neck for more, however, he plants one more on my lips and then removes himself from my arms.

"Let's sleep," he says with a strain in his voice, standing up, walking around the frame of the bed to get to his side. He pulls back the sheets and lays down on his back. Shaking even more now, I do the same.

I don't know what to say, so the best I can come with is, "Thank you."

"Don't do that. Just sleep."

But how can I sleep now? My husband is in my bed after more than a year, and he's breathing, his taste lingering on my lips. How can I sleep knowing he'll be beside me when I wake up, mere inches of sheets between us that I can easily cross to touch him, feel his beating heart under my fingertips, my mouth on the vein of his neck, the slow pulse drumming against my lips? I imagine that position, my legs tangled with his, and I'm attracted to making it reality until I glance at him and he's staring at the ceiling blankly, obviously not thinking of the same thing I am.

I slide my fingers over to his side, slowly clasping his hand in mine. His hand flexes when I touch him.

"Are you okay?" I ask once more.

"Are you afraid?" he answers instead.

"A little bit."

"Of me?"

"Of course not."

He talks directly to the ceiling. "You think I'll hurt you?"

"I think you'll hurt yourself," I whisper. "And that will hurt me."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I have no plans of hurting myself."

"That's not reassuring at all."

Harry looks at me. "Stop," he says quietly. "Stop beating yourself up about it." He lifts his body and rests his head on his palm, elbow digging into the mattress. His other hand is still held tightly in my grip. "What's happened has happened."

"But that's not true." I slide closer to him and rest my head on his pillow. This is the closest I can get without alarming him. "You're still living it. And I can't do anything about it because I don't know about it. And Harry, I don't want to know about it. I want to kill him."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "And you think I haven't thought about killing him myself? I know I'm capable of it."

"Do you think it would help?"

He smiles ruefully, laying back down. "Annaliese, something tells me it would make you feel better. Maybe not so much for me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I've actually killed people. It wasn't just a fantasy for me." His voice drops, the smile wiped off his face. "And...you think it'll feel good. Maybe for a moment it does, but," he stops, flexing his jaw tightly, "but all you feel is guilt. I've killed people who have wanted me dead, but when you're there, Annaliese, and you're holding the remainder of their souls in your hands, you think, at the final moment, maybe we could have been friends. Maybe I could have forgiven them for doing something they had no choice about. After a few weeks, everything becomes muscle memory. You duck, you shoot, you hide. You're trained to obey every order. It's all routine, but that feeling of sadness for the person you've just murdered? You can't hide from it. You can apologize to the corpse and say a quick prayer for the soul as you're watching it leave and ascend to the heavens, but nothing eases the feeling of disgust at yourself.

"My father has done awful things, Annaliese, but they can't be as awful as getting shelled by the enemy, getting shot at. Even in a matter of life and death, you wish your enemy could live. Maybe you could grab a drink and talk out your differences. Sometimes, at night, I'd wonder if they were there, staring at the stars just like me, thinking about their family, vowing to do anything to return, even if they had to kill. That wouldn't make him any different than me."

Harry swallows and takes a shaky breath. He begins again. "I'm afraid of becoming a different person to you."

"What do you mean? Because of what you're capable of?"

Harry's gone back to looking at the ceiling, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because of the things I've done, Annaliese. The people I've hurt with my own two hands. I don't even want to admit those things to myself. Don't want to think about them. I need to shut those thoughts out at least for a few minutes."

"And you don't think telling me them will get them off your chest."

He slants a look down at me. "Annaliese, I'm bad. I'm a very bad person," he says in a strangled voice. "I am. I've killed," he quietly argues. "I've killed more people than I can count."

I open my mouth to tell him I don't care, but stop the words before I can take them back. I realize  that he's not asking me to assure him he isn't a bad person but accept him along with his sins. My attempts at convincing him that he's innocent will always be useless. He needs someone to look at the past and agree with it.

"You're disgusted," he says, shoulders dropping with defeat. "I knew you would be."

"Disgusted?" I gape up at him, loosening my fingers. "Harry. I would never be disgusted with you. Regardless of what you've done."

"You have no idea," he chuckles humorlessly, "how wrong you are about that. I am not good and no amount of talking will convince me of that."

I feel sick now. He doesn't stop talking. "I have killed fathers, sons, and brothers. I have been the one behind the gun, the shells, them all. And that's not only what haunts me at night, Annaliese."

"What's the other?" I look at the glass of water he's placed on the side table.

"You."

My vision returns back to him. "I haunt you?"

"My impact on you haunts me. I'm a God awful fucking husband. You don't think I know that?"

I pull the sheets up to my chin. The ticking of the clock is too loud, the sounds the insects make too irritating. "I don't think you're an awful husband. You do everything a husband is supposed to."

"You can't possibly mean that," he argues humorlessly. "How many husbands have you met like me? I'm not the same person you married, Annaliese. You and I both know that."

"I don't care that you're not the same person I married. What matters is that I love you and I always will, with what you've done. You did what you had to, and I don't need to crucify you for it more than you already crucify yourself."

"You can't love two people."

"There are parts of you that are just like the man I married. You do not get to convince me otherwise."

"What is the same? Not even my appearance is the fucking same."

I glance at the white scar, swallowing roughly. "God, Harry... you know I don't care about--"

"Let's go to sleep. I don't want to talk about this anymore." His voice is firm and filled with anger. "I'm here now. I don't want to make you regret it."

He slides down onto his pillow, adjusting the sheets over his body. "Goodnight, Annaliese."

I lay down beside him and pull the sheet over my body. I look at him once and then turn my back to him, knowing he just wants to be left alone.

Neither of us sleep that night. Knowing exactly what Harry thinks of himself is haunting. I want nothing more but to knock some sense into him, but it'll frighten him. I'm tired of frightening him.

***

The next morning is a blur of awkwardness, us repeating our morning routine as if the previous night didn't happen. But I'm not sure if it's just me who is avoiding talking about last night, or Harry too. Either way, not a word of it passes between us, silence as we shower and get dressed. He fixes the bedsheets while I tuck away the makeshift bed on the floor under the bed.

The truth is that I still feel nauseous about what he told me, though it wasn't very explicit. The thought of living that myself grips me with terror, but imagining Harry in a life and death situation is even worse.

The war, for a privileged person like myself, has always been a distant memory of a life I never lived. I've seen photographs and heard stories from wives and sisters, however, I've never heard first account memories from anybody except my grandfather. Under the impression that a world war would be different and far more civilized, I'm horrified to learn the truth of how barbaric it really was.

Harry's quietly sipping his tea when I come down for breakfast, but he glances over at me once.

He looks off, slightly pale and disturbed. The men sitting besides us are loud and I blame them for the discomfort on Harry's face.

"I was thinking I could go visit some friends today," he says, looking down at his eggs. "If that's okay with you. He doesn't live too far away so I won't be long."

I watch his throat tremble as he swallows. Is he trying to get away from me? "Okay. Let's meet before dinner?"

"Yes," he says and then continues eating breakfast in tense silence.

It's the last time I will see him for hours.

***

    He doesn't come by dinner. I'm sitting in the dining area, anxiously looking out the window to spot the man. I wait until dinnertime is over.

    Harry's not one to disappear. Aunt Geraldine's words echo in my head. He feels safe with me. So where has he gone?

    After checking our room, bathroom, balcony, and the premises of the hotel, I begin to panic slightly. After our conversation last night about hurting himself, I didn't give him any ideas, did I?

    This is a new place for all of us. Is he still at his friend's house?

    My throat is tight when I shakily enter the hotel office, advancing towards the desk. Harry's fine, I tell myself. He's smart. He will be okay. For some reason, I don't believe it.

    "Hi, I'm Annaliese. My husband and I checked in just yesterday. I'm sorry to bother you, but did you see him leave or return anytime?"

The man looks at me for ages as if trying to remember me. "Ah the English man. I've seen him head out early, but he didn't tell me where he was going." The man shrugs. "It's none of my business, ma'am."

"Right," I swallow. "Thank you."

As I'm exiting the office, a man walks in, dressed in familiar clothing and walking confidently. He's an older man with wrinkles around his eyes, speaking kindly with the man who manages the hotel. I catch the beginning of their conversation.

"I wanted to thank you for the invite, but I should head back to the church. I can't possibly stay here another night. The renovations are nearly complete, both at the church and the cemetery," the priest says.

I stop at the door and turn, eyes wide. God, please no, Harry. The priest sees the movement and reaches out to hold a hand out as if I'm about to fall.

"Ma'am?"

"Cemetery? Where is this cemetery?"

"Eh?" he says.

"Cemetery," I repeat. They look at me blankly, unable to understand my accent. "Church. Where is the church?"

The two men look at me with weird expressions, but the priest is the first to recover and place his hand back into his pocket. He raises his other hand and gestures outside the office. "Just a mile or two down. What's the matter, ma'am?"

"I need to go there," I say quickly. "Could you tell me how to get there?"

"At this hour?" the priest says, uncertain.

"Yes. Yes, please, I need to see someone. Please tell me how to get there."

"Well," the priest says, "I'm heading back anyway. Would you like to just accompany me?"

A quicker way to get to Harry. My heart jumps. "That would be perfect, Father. Merci beaucoup."

He still looks at me weird but says goodbye to the other man and walks out. I walk behind the priest as we head to the car.

A part of me doesn't want to find Harry at the cemetery. I can't imagine what he could be thinking. Or feeling. However, the other part of me feels strongly about his whereabouts. He said his friends were here, perhaps he could be visiting one. Or a few. My heart aches for him as I sit besides the priest, fingers shaking nervously. I hope he's there. Safe.

[maddytheweird]

Jealous siren kent x reader

just a lil imagine/one shot from my wattpad

It's last period on a Friday afternoon in Thornhills' class and everyone was put into groups of  4 to do some research. Thornhill chose the groups yet everyone was with their friends so there weren't many complaints being made, apart from a few people who have petty rivalries or those who wanted to be with their crush or significant other. Kent was put into a group with Divina, Yoko and Rowan set up at the back left hand side of the classroom while you placed at the back right of the room with Ajax, Xavier and Enid. Most of the class were just messing around or catching up on gossip rather than doing any actual research on the origins of the Cobra Lily and the Pitcher Plant, but since it was a Friday afternoon Thornhill wasn't bothered, she actually really enjoys seeing her students getting along and talking, being able to do "normal" teen stuff.

 

"So yeah and then apparently Bianca absaloughtly went off, I mean I get that some people don't like her but to bring up her mum and the whole 'morning song crap was just crazy!" Divina says slightly frustrated at the thought of her friend being harassed  because of family. "I know D, yet she can eat garlic bread without shitting herself to another death!" Yoko responds back with fake jealousy before bursting out into a fit of laughter along with Divina, Rowan and some other student sat nearby who heard the  vampires antics. Yet Kent didn't let out a chuckle or even a smirk, his focus was on you. His (gf/bf/so) laughing with your face in your elbow while your other arm is hitting Xaviers'. "DUDE WHY, HOW DO STONE YOURSELF" you pause to try and get some air into your giggling system, "Even I'M not that dumb to do that" " I don't know (Y/N) Ajax is a different breed, he's built different, lacking a few braincells" Xavier adds in while Enid is trying her best to not pass out from the excessive laughter caused by the two boys. "Xavier pa-,lease you can't talk, your talent is just being a rip-off Picasso, you draw people like one of your French girls!" You practically wheeze out and slump into his shoulders your body is slowly giving out.

Kent's eyes narrow as he glares daggers at Xavier who is very visibly flustered by your touch. " Oi Kent you good, EARTH TO KENT!" Yoko calls to her Siren friend while slamming her hand onto the desk in front of him. Divina shoots her twin a concerned look "I don't know what's gotten him all-oohhh I think I know what the issue is" Divina cuts herself off as Rowan follows her gaze over to where your group is sat, with You, Ajax and Enid in a laughing fit as Xavier is redder than Weems lipstick sat the result of your touch. Many people know that you and Kent are together as most Sirens tend to be pretty popular and well liked or some cases feared. But Kent still doesn't acknowledge his surroundings, only focussing on you and one if his best mates as if he had a severe case of tunnel vision.

Class flew past for everyone else though, making jokes playing games on the chalk boards with Thornhill. Yet it had been so painfully slow for Kent. Wondering if he's truly good enough for, whether he's too loud or out there for you. His thoughts are interrupted by a pair of familiar arms around his shoulders from behind followed by an all too comforting scent of a specific perfume. "Hey there scaley boy" you exclaim from behind leaving a small kiss across his scales above his cheek. "Hi weird (girl/boy)" he sighs flatly with a forced smile as you two continue to head up to your dorm (that's shared with Divina) hand in hand. You can sense the difference in his  demeanour but brush it off as tiredness since it was a pretty hectic class to finish the week. Once you two get inside your dorm he flops onto your bed and hold your pillow which he usually only ever does if he's sick, really pissed of or just feeling a bit blue. You quickly dump your bag down at your desk and lay down next to him lifting up his hair to reveal a pained siren, the siren that had your heart in the palm of his hand. 

"keeeeeeeennntt" you say dragging out the e, "speeeaaak too meeeeeee, because youve never been this quiet and its unsettling" you coo into his ear while gently rubbing his back. "I was watching you in class before" he finally croaks out breaking the short silence as he looks up at you, you respond with a nod urging him to continue. "the way you all were laughing and messing around, how happy you looked, the way Xavier," he paused to take a deep breathe trying to calm himself down "Seeing Xavier getting all hot and flustered anytime you looked at him or he made you laugh. When you fell into his side and he practically stopped breathing on the spot. I couldn't help but get jealous, i mean he is THE Xavier Thorpe, he's rich, he's funny, he's nice and he has half the school at his feet I just, I just felt like he had gotten to you, that you had realised that you like him instead of me." Your heart broke at the sight of your beautiful siren boyfriend with tears brimming his eyes as he ranted about the fear of losing you to Xavier, one of, if not his Best Friend. 

"C'mon Kent" his anxiousness soaring through the roof as he waits for you to feel betrayed and untrusted. "you really think I would date THAT, the ripoff Picasso, Nevermores local Slenderman?" You say while holding back a giggle. He sighs and wraps you into one of his famous bear hugs and pulls you to straddle his lap as he hides his face into the crook of your neck. Letting out another sigh, yet this time not saddens, angered or anxious, but a content and relieved sigh as he gives your torso a slight squeeze. "I'm sorry my (girl/boy/so), I didn't mean to depress you, I just couldn't shake the thought. Even it us is pretty stupid" you send him a quizzical look "Kent," you say staring into his breathtakingly crystal like eyes while holding his face in your hands "that thought wasn't stupid. It was bat-shit crazy! I mean, Xavier!" You call out letting another laughing fit take over. He rolls his eyes and pushes you off of him and onto your bed causing another giggling fit to erupt from you. He settles himself over you and gives you a kiss full of passion which you gladly return, he slowly depend the kiss and lowers himself down a tad more to get more comfortable. This time putting YOU into a flustered state. Before anything could go anywhere else Yoko bursts into the dorm followed by Bianca Divina. "Ew Kent could get off of my friend please, feral fish" His twin says while throwing a pillow at him as Bianca takes a picture and yoko makes mocking kissing noises. "Alright alright behave yourselves ladies, and Divina" he says throwing the pillow back at her only 10 times the force. He quickly gives you another peck and sprints out of the room leafing his bag as his twin sets after him with murder on her mind. You and the other two girls just ignore the crazy twins anticts and catch up and share the new found gossip discovered during the lesson.

i might start taking requests to write on here but idk

#wednesday #kent x reader #nevermore #fanfic #oliver watson #sirens #netflix

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Wardrobe Malfunction - (2/?)

More of this thing! This time it’s poor Sky’s turn ^u^

Warning(s): crude jokes made by Wind at Sky’s expense

Oh how Sky loathed running. He cursed his low stamina and inability to get enough air in his lungs as he chased after the rest of his group, who were following a herd of stolen horses that monsters were riding on. He was almost certain that by the time he caught up, they would’ve been taken care of anyway. But he still ran, just in case.

It was as he followed Wind and Hyrule around a sharp turn through some bushes that he had the thought that something was going to go wrong. And of course he was right. He was abruptly forced to a stop as his belt and shirt snagged on a particularly sharp branch, dragging him back into the bush it came from. The end of it just happened to be long and strong enough to stab through the worn belt and travel up to just below his shoulder blades, having a very strong grip on him. He huffed, seeing Wind and Hyrule start to get further away, so he made the executive decision to try and run after them. 

Of course, it’s never that easy. He felt something give way, and he lurched forward, his hands and arms getting forced backward and trapped in his sleeves as he stumbled and a very loud tearing noise caused him to freeze. He looked down to see his his belt and wrap on the ground at his feet and all of his normal layers ripped straight down the middle, putting his chest on full display. He felt his face heating up, even moreso when he realized that he wouldn’t be getting out of this mess without help. 

“Uh, Wind! Roolie! I need some help back here!” he yelled as loud as he could while he still struggled to breathe. 

The two heroes were thankfully not quite out of earshot yet, so they turned around and headed back toward him, first with confusion and then with wide grins and loud laughter.

“Holy shit, Sky?! How did you manage to do that?!” Wind cackled, hands resting on his knees as he looked Sky up and down.

Hyrule was trying to at least cover up the fact that he was laughing, a fact that Sky appreciated. 

“I was trying to catch up to you guys and got stuck! Stop leaving me behind!”

This only caused Wind and Hyrule to laugh more, the Sailor winding up on his ass from the force of his laughter. Sky shook his head, rolling his eyes for good measure. He attempted a step forward to free himself, only to further tear his shirt, the top of his stomach coming into view. He sighed heavily.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun, can you help me out here? Please?”

Wind nodded, smiling in amusement as he walked around to Sky’s back and started poking around at Sky’s hands.

“I’ve got ya, Sky,” he replied, messing around with the branches that had ensnared him, “Nice tits by the way.”

Sky whipped around as best as he could, scandalized as his face gradually grew red upon seeing Wind laughing once again. He could barely hear Hyrule wheezing over the feeling of his ears burning.

“Wind, what the hell?!”

They only laughed harder at his shrieked exclamation, Wind abandoning helping Sky to double over on the ground. Hyrule was no help either, staggering to lean against the nearest tree to stay standing. 

“Please for the love of Hylia, get me out of here!”

Hyrule contained his giggling just enough to draw his sword and chop at the branches that held Sky in place. Finally freed, he grabbed the edges of the tear and held them together with a hand, covering his chest as well as he could. He glared at both heroes, though they didn’t seem to care much at all by that fact. 

“When we get to camp,” Sky spoke calmly, immediately shutting up the two heroes, “You would be wise to watch yourself. You never know what sort of bad luck you will end up having.”

Sky made sure to punctuate his statement with a too sweet smile and closed eyes, causing the two to audibly gulp. Satisfied that his threat was acknowledged, he led the way toward where the group had been heading, figuring that the monsters had most likely been dealt with by now. He’d see if he could bribe Legend or Warriors to fix his clothes later.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe drabble #linkeduniverse drabble #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu wind #silver writes #crude humor #sky's bare chest #skiddies

[hungergamesheadcanons]

Shrektacular

Listen we're pretending Shrek exists in The Hunger Games universe ok? A slightly different rendition of the ointment after the mist.

"Finnick!" Katniss yelped, "Your face!"

The District 4 Victor-turned-tribute looked up at her in confusion, before recoiling himself. "What about your face?!"

They simultaneously looked down at their hands, watching the tips of their fingers turn green even as the blisters practically fell away, before looking up at each other.

"You look shrektacular," Finnick ended up quipping, a small smile pulling at the edge of his mouth.

"Shrektacular?" Katniss asked in confusion.

"You've never seen it? Add it to your list if you get out of here, that movie is awesome."

She just rolled her eyes, squeezing more of the ointment onto her hands and gesturing for him to turn around. "Come on, let's get the rest of them. Not used to being green, huh?"

"Katniss, Katniss, feeling me up already? With your husband asleep?" He tutted playfully, but did as he was told.

"Careful or I'll draw a dick on your back."

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

The two of them were giggling by now, one of Finnick's hands coming up to grab hers as she started tracing the image on his back. It didn't matter that the ointment wasn't on that particular finger, the mental image caused the two of them to just collapse into hysterics.

Briefly, Katniss wondered if this level of joy and silliness had ever been seen in The Hunger Games before. It felt alien, in this arena where everything was out to kill them, to be laughing over something as simple as drawing dicks.

"Fine," she relented, "I won't draw a dick."

The silence was pregnant between them, before she smirked, "I can give you a rocking set of tits though if you want."

Finnick snorted, actually snorted, sending the two of them off into loud fits of laughter. Once he started, he couldn't seem to stop, until both of them were wheezing. Their skin had been steadily turning greener, and once Katniss was covered, it was time to wake Peeta.

"Wait, wait, let's do something to wake him up!"

"Like what?" She asked, already excited.

"I dunno, something stupid."

"Hmm... Let's just stick our faces right in front of him?"

"Oh he's gonna freak. Let's do it."

They positioned themselves in front of him, far enough that they wouldn't get punched, but close enough to be recognisable. After a little poking and prodding, they managed to get him awake enough for -

"ACK!"

The two green kids fell to pieces, raucous laughter causing several birds to flutter away. Katniss didn't even care that they could be alerting enemies to their position, or that surely her family and the Capitol were watching this moment of levity surrounded by death and despair. Peeta watched the two of them, tongue tucked into his cheek even as he tried to suppress a grin.

"Geez, thanks guys." He muttered, "great wakeup call there, not terrifying at all in the arena."

"Hey!" Finnick gasped out between snorts, "At least she didn't draw a dick on you!"

"I didn't draw a dick on you Finnick!" Katniss cackled, "I promise!"

"Lies and slander!"

Peeta shook his head, standing up. "So is that ointment available? I assume there is a reason why you're green."

Katniss went to hand him the tube, before she paused, a wicked grin on her face. "Peeeeetaaaaa~" She sing-songed, and her husband took one look at her before running towards the beach.

Katniss set off after him, Finnick only a second behind as he grabbed their stuff. There was a rustling behind him, but he didn't care to check what it was, too busy cackling as Katniss tackled Peeta to the floor.

"Katniss, wait!" The blonde was giggling, before spitting out a load of sand. "Blech! Oh that is nasty!"

"Hey Finnick!" She yelled, "Any suggestions?"

Finnick laughed as she manhandled the top of Peeta's wetsuit off, exposing some of the boils that had slipped through the garment along with pale skin.

"Oh I am so drawing Shrek on his back!"

"You draw Shrek, I'll draw the dicks."

"NO!"

In the madness, they failed to notice a silver parachute tinkling down. When they were done, and would finally open it, they would be greeted with warm bread from District 4, alongside 3 different portions of a hearty soup, and a note that said 'glad you're having fun - H'.

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #finnick odair #pretty silly #ngl #let them have fun

[gavinsdeviant]

You & I

@ejunkiet had a request and I’m more than happy to deliver. It’s a little short, so if y’all want more, just let me know. Hope you guys enjoy!

cw/tw- just a sick freelancer, tired and overworked, as usual

word count- 828

fandom- RedactedAudio

pair- Damien/Freelancer

The sun had gone down a few hours ago and Freelancer could barely keep their eyes open. Damien had fallen asleep on the couch and they didn't want to bother him with their frantic thinking.

The words of the text book seem to blur together as they turn their focus to the page again. They sit spread out on the bed, everything haphazardly scattered this way and that. 

They hadn't intended to get so lost in their work but four hours later and here they were.

They sniff. Tissues lay strewn everywhere, and they swear if this damn cold didn't go away soon they'd-

"Baby," their head snaps up to Damien standing in the doorway, his voice thick with sleep. The sweatpants hung low on his hips, his curly hair ruffled. 

The room seems warmer and they had a feeling it had nothing to do with the fire elemental in front of them.

Well, I suppose it does have something to do with him, but nevermind that now. 

"Sorry," they mutter. They avoid his gaze as they gather their papers and notes. They feel nervous under his gaze and pause when they see how badly they're shaking. 

Before they know it he has his palm wrapped around their forearm, drawing it to his side.

"You okay?"

They nod.

He brings their hand up to his face, resting it against his cheek. 

A cough builds in their chest and they feel like they're ruining the moment- Harsh wheezing rips from their throat, huffed out in raspy croaks.

"I'm sorry," they manage to make out between breaths. He cups their face in his hands, forcing their gaze up.

"You need rest."

He lays his hand flat against their forehead and pulls back, distraught. "And a cold towel. You may have a fever."

He ushers them into bed and helps gather the last of their supplies into a pile on the desk.

They turn to protest but he clicks his tongue. They almost want to laugh.The reaction was Damien's alone, his to steal and keep as his own.  

"Get into bed. Or I'll make you," they chuckle, causing another bout of coughing. "Kinky," they force out, grinning. 

"Lay down smartass and let me take care of you," he’s smiling too, and they feel a rush of warmth at the expression.

He's out of the room and back in a flash, his face grave. 

"This isn't the first time." They blink.

"What?"

"This isn't the first time you've done this. Studied and studied until you couldn't go any longer," he looks at them then, eyes clear. 

"I care about you. More than I'd ever care to admit to myself. And I need you to take care of yourself."

They'd had this speech from Lasko once before but something about the way Damien said it struck them as vulnerable. 

They nod, swallowing against the lump in their throat.

"I want what's best for you. You've probably heard that shit a million times, but please hear me when I say that."

“I hear you,” they say, giving him a small smile. They were lost for words and didn’t know what to say. 

He seems to consider something, brows furrowing. He looks far away as he leans down for a quick kiss and turns to leave the room.

"Wait here."

He disappears and a second later, they hear the shower turn on. They immediately scramble out of bed, biting back another cough. 

"Damien-" they nearly jump out of their skin as they smack into his chest. 

"I don't care that it's midnight. Get in there. You need to put yourself first right now."

"I'm sorry," they sputter but then he's pressing closer, grabbing their hands.

"Don't apologize. Ever. I know what it is to be busy, though I should've noticed earlier. It’s okay to take breaks, you know." 

He pauses. 

"I hate it when you're not taking care of my partner." 

They nuzzle their face into his side, grabbing a fist full of his shirt.  

"You're a big softie, you know that?" He pulls away.

"I am not."

"You so are."

"No."

"Yes."

"Get your ass in the shower," he rolls his eyes, shoving them inside. 

Before they know it they're done, feeling much better than they had at the start of the night. They pull a soft hoodie over their head, grabbing a towel to dry their hair as they step into the bedroom. 

"Come here." Damien props himself up on one elbow.

They roll onto their back beside him. It’s quiet for a moment as they both lay staring at the ceiling, the Freelancer’s hair forgotten.  

They move closer, pressing their head against his chest. 

“Sleep,” he whispers. 

They hum. 

The room is dark as he flicks the lights off. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, and they can hear the confusion in his voice. 

“For loving me in the dark. I love you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. 

“I love you too.” 

#redacted asmr damien #our fiery boi is making his first appearance on here #I really enjoyed writing their dynamic #for the first time #redacted asmr freelancer #hope you enjoyed

[silvercaptain24]

Hi I was wondering if you can draw a comic can you draw this I work so hard on it hear it is

After saving the land before them Zelda and link were tied and they need to sleep. So they went on there Horse to the Village to Link’s house. As Zelda was so happy she was also glad to know that all that had happened was all in the past.

Zelda was so happy to not be in the Castle trying to stay awake. Everything was fine now she was with Link. When they got about 4 hours away Zelda saw that there were some people out in the distance. She had not seen people in forever she said to link to set up camp for the night and she would go talk to the people and she would come back with some food so they could cook.

Link looked at the people in concern I will be fine just go set up camp he nodded his head. Zelda loved to see the blue sky and the birds and the sway of the grass she never wanted to it to end. When she started talking to the people they were a little of but she just thought that they were excited to see her they just offered bananas to her. All at once she remembered that Link told her about a Yiga clans they would look like a normal person but they were not.

she screamed “Link” he came running at full speed and right on time the Yiga clan members were not the week kind but the much harder to kill ones. One did have a bow though Link killed the one with a sword first but the one with a bow was so fast Link told Zelda to run back to camp she didn’t want to leave him alone but she went behind a big rocks and hid.

Zelda Hurd nothing but a sweet sound of a little bird chirping in the distance. Then she heard a scream it sounded like a link she ran all the way to him the Yiga was not dead but it retreated because it has fulfill its duties. It had shot Link right in the chest with his bow 4 times he was wheezing and gasping for air. Link grabbed two of the arrows and pulled them out. Zelda squinted with fear she knew that it needed to be tended to right away. But all she had was bananas and a small cloth she was watching him grab the other two arrows and he was pulling them out. He Was in a great amount of pain. She tried to talk to him for the very first time she said “ we need to get you to a stable first but we then will rush to Hatnao village”. Link tried to speak but the pain took over.

“shh you need to save your strength right now” Zelda said. She could tell that he Was in A lot of pain. Blood started to turn his clothes red and Zelda new that she will need to hurry or he wouldn’t make it! she said to him can you get on the horse he said. I-can try-to get on…. She was getting so worried that he wouldn’t be able to make it. She helped him get on the horse and they started to ride.

after about an hour or so it started to get worse they were about 20 minutes away from the staple. And he fell off his horse Zelda jumped off and rushed to the side. He was Groaning with pain as much more blood came out. At this time he was as white as the cloud He was barely breathing and struggling when he was. They finally got to a stable she found some cloth and wiped off the wound with some water. He was wincing with pain she didn’t want it to be painful but she wanted to be clean.

she turned one of the horses in so they could ride together in and he can rest. Zelda did not notice how much blood he had Lost buddy was struggling because of the blood loss they were almost to the village about only 30 minutes away when it started to get worse blood was rushing out now and Zelda was worried. The time before his eyes were open but his eyes started the clothes slowly.

Zelda knew it had to be because of blood loss or was that the reason she turned around and stop the horse she put her hand to Link’s for head he had a very high fever. She knew that the fever was going to cause some pain and some discomfort but she knew she had to get to the village that was all of her concern. when she made it to the village people came running out of their houses link was not awake anymore so They took him to his house and laid him down on the bed. Zelda fell asleep on the bedside Well they tend to his wounds.

She was still very worried for him but than her friend pura came in she said check it her normal thing she looked at link and said what happened Zelda explain to the story as pura made some food on the stove for when he woke up and fore them of course. They talked for hours then Link woke up wai-r am I… don’t worry you’re in your house he fell back asleep after about 20 minutes he was obviously exhausted from blood loss and a fever. After he was all better and able to walk again I Zelda and him continue their adventures as one! The end! Thank you so much for your kindness talk to you soon

I'm sorry, I don't really draw, and definitely not well enough to do this. It sounds really cool though!

#asks and answers #penny!!!

[pagesfromthevoid]

i love love LOOOVVVEEE your adrian chase series a fucking duck it’s so good and i can’t wait for more ahhhhh you write so well and you capture his character perfectly

A Fucking Duck | a.c. | 6

Adrian Chase x Bat!fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language. Canon violence. Ya know the usual.

Author’s Note: I hope this makes sense. Please tell me if it doesn’t 😂

Series Masterlist | Talk to me!

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Harcourt demanded as she stopped loading the van.

Peacemaker shook his head. “That’s Vigilante,” he explained, rolling his eyes. She followed his gaze to see Vigilante poorly hiding behind the dumpster. “He’s just trying to be helpful.”

“Get the fuck outta here, Vigilante,” Crossfire yelled at him, loading her crossbow. “I’ll shoot you again. Don’t tempt me.”

Vigilante put his hands up and came out of hiding, pointing at her. “Excuse me; you can’t shoot me after we fu—“

“Get the hell out of here,” Harcourt demanded.

“After you what?” Peacemaker asked, looking between Crossfire and Vigilante now. Harcourt groaned in annoyance and returned to her work.

“Fought —“

“Fucked —“

They spoke over each other, and the silence that followed was almost too loud. She slowly turned and stared him down, but Vigilante didn’t seem to care at all. Peacemaker, on the other hand, started cackling.

“Oh holy shit, you fucked Vij? You’re a shit superhero; I thought you were supposed to arrest him!”

Harcourt was paying attention now, staring at Crossfire with both disgust and annoyance. From the inside the van, Economos was laughing so hard he was wheezing; though Adebayo seemed to be the only one who didn’t find the situation unusual.

“Who gives a shit if they slept together? Their bad decisions don’t effect us.”

“Thank you, Adebayo. Only fucking normal person here,” she huffed in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It was one time —“

“And you begged for it —“

“I’m going to actually kill you. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna kill you —“

Peacemaker held her back as she attempted to go after the masked criminal, and she yelled at him angrily to release her. Vigilante took that as a good moment to take off, leaving the group reeling from the ridiculous conversation that had just happened. Economos emerged from the van, watching Vigilante take off down the street.

“Isn’t he wanted for several counts of murder in like six states?” He asked, looking to her and Peacemaker.

Peacemaker released her when Vigilante was finally out of sight. She rammed her elbow into his stomach, making him double over as she walked away from him.

“Yeah,” she said, straightening out her suit and placing her crossbow back in its place on her belt.

“And yet you fucked him —“

“I’m gonna kill you too, dye beard.”

*****

“You need to fucking shoot them,” she snapped at Peacemaker. “They’re aliens! They’re not people anymore!”

“They’re fucking kids!”

The bushes rustled next to them, causing them to drop their mission and draw their weapons. Harcourt groaned again as Vigilante emerged, hands up —though he carried a gun in one of them. Crossfire groaned and returned her attention to the butterflies, eying them through the scope.

“Give me the fucking gun so I can do it, you pussy,” she snapped at Peacemaker, reaching for the sniper.

She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of killing people, but this needed to end. It was getting out of hand, and she was rapidly losing interest in being there. However, he smacked her hand away, and she looked at him like he was a petulant child. The two argued for several minutes as Vigilante and Harcourt watched. Vigilante seemed entertained at the whole thing, but Harcourt was annoyed.

“Neither of you are going to fucking do it,” she said, pointing to Vigilante now. “He is.”

“Like hell he is —“ Crossfire started to argue. But Harcourt shut her up quick.

“Neither of you are functional enough for this. At least I know he’ll do it right the first time.”

Vigilante puffed up from the compliment, nudging himself between Crossfire and Peacemaker. She pushed herself away, crossing her arms over her chest like a child herself now. The entirety of this mission was going to be a drain on her mental health; and she felt like the longer she stuck around, the more brain cells she was losing. Vigilante, however, seemed all too happy to take over.

He swiped his visor up, leaning into the scope of the gun to take his shot. She watched from the side as Peacemaker fell back behind them, frowning as Vigilante took the shot without hesitation. The firing made her flinch, and his stupid commentary on the three bears only made it worse as he lined up the final shot. However, before the shot could be taken, a flash of green threw themselves at him.

Vigilante fell into her, and she shoved him off of her as she pushed herself off the ground. Vigilante scrambled himself, but the guy in green kicked him again. Crossfire went for her crossbow but he road house kicked her in the face, then snatched her crossbow up.

“Fuck this shit,” Vigilante announced, moving to make his getaway. “Fair fight, I’m out.”

“You fucking coward,” she yelled at him as she started to chase after him.

The asshole in green went after them both though, and with another swift kick to the back of her head, she dropped down. Vigilante turned, hesitating as if to help, when he was knocked out himself.

*****

The entirety of her skull felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it when she finally managed to come to. Panic overwhelmed her senses as she tried to move; her hands were bound above her and she was just barely touching the ground. Her vision was blurry but she could make out Vigilante tied to a chair, and Peacemaker bound to another across the room.

“What the fuck,” she managed to say, looking around.

“We’re being held hostage,” Peacemaker explained, as if she hadn’t figured that out herself.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Don’t be fucking rude. This isn’t my fault.”

“I’m blaming you for everything that’s going wrong in my life until this is over,” she countered as Vigilante stirred next. He made a pained sound as he looked around. “You’re a bitch. Fucking running away.”

He hummed a bit, shaking his head some to relieve the headache. “Wha—?”

Goff entered suddenly, the little fucker in green following behind.

“Take off her mask,” he ordered, pointing at her. Goff moved to Vigilante.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

She thrashed around, trying to keep him from touching her mask. But he punched her in the stomach, causing her to try to double over, losing her breath. He tore the mask off her face as Vigilante begged Goff not to. She kept her eyes down, trying to relieve the pain from being hit, as Vigilante’s mask hit the floor.

“Bro, what the fuck are you doing?”

“If I keep changing my facial expression, they won’t be able to recognize me in a line up,” he explained. She almost laughed at how stupid he was.

She finally looked up, spitting out a little bit of blood from her mouth. But then she heard it. The small gasp; her name, with shock lacing every syllable. Her blood ran cold, and every fiber of her being wanted to scream as she finally made eye contact with the criminal she had been tailing for months now. Only to see the face of the man she’d been falling hard for.

“Adrian?”

There wasn’t time to process that her boyfriend —her fucking boyfriend was a murderer. That he had been trying to kill her for months now. Any and all thought seemed to disappear as Goff attached jumper cables to his crotch.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She demanded, eyes going wide.

“I’m going to get information out of you,” he explained simply, adding another clamp.

“Give it your best shot!” Peacemaker screamed.

Adrian looked horrified. “What —! No! Please!”

“No!” She yelled at the same time, just as Goff electrocuted the shit out of Adrian. She screamed as he did and she watched in horror as he convulsed.

“Yeah! Keep it up asshole! You won’t get shit outta me!” Peacemaker yelled again.

“Fuck, I’ll tell you whatever you want!“ She countered, pulling against her restraints.

Goff paused, turning off the electricity. Adrian dug his feet into the ground, closing his eyes as he tried to keep himself calm. But it was clear he was in agony.

“What can you tell me then? What do you know?”

Peacemaker started screaming, trying to cover up what she was saying. She looked at him with absolute disgust, screaming back at him to shut the fuck up. Goff was seemingly getting annoyed, turning his back to address the asshole in green.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! That’s your friend!”

“Why the fuck do you care! You hate him!”

“No I don’t! That’s my boyfriend, you jackass!”

Silence filled the room, and Peacemaker looked between her and Adrian, confused. Then he looked closer to his supposed friend, frowning. “Aren’t you Gut Chase’s little brother?”

Adrian looked defeated, realizing his hero didn’t even know who he was. “Y-yeah, I am.”

“You’re not skinny as shit anymore. Solid frame; still a bit wirey but otherwise, nice work.”

“Thanks,” Adrian said through gritted teeth, catching his breath finally. “I’ve turned my body into an instrument of vengeance for —“

“Is this really the conversation we need to be having?” She demanded, fighting against the ropes that were cutting into her wrists.

Adrian finally caved and looked at her again. Even after all the fighting and the insults, it was still just her. He really had hoped he had been hallucinating from pain. “I mean, let’s talk about the fact that you cheated on me —“

“Adrian, we’re the same fucking people —“

“But you didn’t know!”

“Adrian, that means you cheated on me too!”

There was a moment of realization as he came to the conclusion she was drawing. “Oh.”

“This is also not the conversation to be having!”

Goff returned his attention to the three of them, picking up a pair of rusty looking sheers. She fought against her ropes once more, and suddenly her gloves felt like they were slipping out.

“If you’re not going to give me what I need, then I’ll take something you need. One by one,” Goff threatened, pointing at Adrian again.

“What the fuck! Why me again!”

“He’s the alpha; it makes more sense to torture you.”

“Don’t worry, bro. I won’t give them anything.”

“Maybe just give them a little?” Adrian pleaded.

“What about me?” She asked, voice frantic as she tried to slip her gloves off. “Hurt me. Not him.”

“Wait; no, no, no, don’t hurt her —“

Goff seemed to be rapidly losing interest in the argument, turning his attention back to Adrian. She gritted her teeth, just enough to distract from the burning sensation that came from pulling her hand out of the glove, and through the rope. Just as she got her one hand free, though, Adrian screamed out again. She looked back up; then quickly away as Goff started to cut into his foot. His screams filled the room as she closed her eyes, freeing her other hand from the remaining restraint.

She dropped to the ground, looking at Peacemaker when suddenly, she was knocked to the ground by the green fucker again. But she was ready for a fight this time, grabbing him by the ankles and yanking him onto his back. He rolled and grabbed her by her hair, slamming her face into the ground but she wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to pin him down. As she went to punch him, though, the walls around them shook. Taking advantage of her distraction, he shoved her off of him and took off towards the main part of the house.

The shaking got worse, then suddenly an explosion erupted. Peacemaker managed to get himself out of his restraints as she rushed towards Adrian, snatching his mask off the ground, then cutting the ropes that held him. He looked up at her, trying to say anything but between the blinding pain in his foot and the shock of their identities —for once, Adrian didn’t have anything to say.

Peacemaker took advantage of the situation, shooting Goff in the face suddenly. She flinched as blood splattered everywhere, but her attention was focused on Adrian.

“C‘Mon pretty boy,” she encouraged, slipping his mask over his face. “We need to get outta here before we get killed.”

Peacemaker held her mask out to her, giving her a single nod. She took it and returned it to its rightful place, obscuring who she was once more. Not that it seemingly mattered, given that Adrian was her enemy, but it was a thought that would be dwelled on later.

She hoisted Adrian up, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he hopped his way towards the hole in the wall. Adebayo pushed through the rubble with Murn and Harcourt in tow, guns drawn. Peacemaker put his hands up, nodding back towards the two of them.

“They’re gonna need a sec, I think,” he said.

The team exchanged odd looks but he told them to hurry up, leaving the two of them alone for a moment.

“I…I think we have to talk, don’t we?” Adrian asked, looking down at her through his visor.

“I think that’s the understatement of the century, Adrian.”

———

Series Masterlist

———

Taglist: @ladybug023 @pedropascalfanclub @se-fucking-hun @chelseaxteens @sannie-san-shine @notalxx @tubble-wubble @inmate-marmalade @fanofverymanythings @truly-abysmal @sevenseasofcats @dallasvakarian @why-so-red

#adrian chase imagine #adrian Chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante imagine

[theundercoversquid]

Prophetic Vision's of Doom and Love

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: Um I was thinking, what about a Paul x reader where they used to be close as kids and had a falling out, but one day Paul sees a vision that she’s drugged by some guys and in need of help, and goes in the nick of time to save her. While comforting/treating her, they rekindle things and it ends on a romantic note

Warnings: Attempted drugging

Masterlist

Paul shot awake. His chest heaving as sweat ran down his brow. He had had a dream. And not an ordinary dream like you or I have.

A prophetic vision of the future to come.

A vision of your downfall.

You were drugged and unconscious on the floor. A man he had never seen before standing over your body. Before anything more could happen, Paul had woken up.

Paul screwed his eyes closed. Shoving the palm's of his hand into his eyes. But all he could see was your unconscious body lying there.

Despite the foreboding feeling coming from the dream. Paul focused on your face. Although he hadn’t seen you for year's, you were still beautiful. More beautiful than you had been when you left.

God, did he regret the day you left. You and he had been thick as thieves. He had been deeply in love with you even then. But your mum had been killed. And your dad had gone into mourning. Drawing in on himself. You had been worried for his and your own lives. So you had suggested you take your father back to your country home.

And Paul had been angry. Furious at the world for taking you away from him. Mad at you for suggesting going and abandoning him. So, he had taken it out on you. When you had come to say goodbye. He had screamed hateful things at you. Accusing you of leaving him and abandoning him.

When you had gone, and Paul was left to simmer, he realised how stupid he had been. When he rushed to see if he could get to you before you left. You had already departed. Leaving Paul to regret that moment for the rest of his days. And you to think that you hated him.

But Paul had to do something. Throwing off his bed cover, he rushed to get dressed and see his mom. He knew that if he described his dream to his parents, they would let him go. It was just a matter of getting there in time.

Paul sat in the passenger seat of the Ornithopter. Duncan piloting. But all Paul did was replay his last words to you and the dream over and over again in his mind's eye. Hoping and praying that they would get there in time.

As soon as the Ornithopter set down and stopped moving, Paul was dashing out. Blindly running in the direction that felt right. Trusting his instincts like his mother had taught him.

Paul could hear Duncan following as he rushed down a narrow alleyway.

Now. Just because Paul had seen this scene in his dreams. And replayed it in his mind a thousand times. Did not mean he was ready for the display in front of him. In any way, shape or form.

Freezing in his track's. Paul started in horror at the sight in front of him. You lying face-up on the floor. Your limbs were askew. Your eyes closed as though you were asleep. But what caused his blood to boil was the sight of two men standing over you. Their breath wheezing through crooked teeth as they looked down at your body. Their eye’s filled with greed.

Paul was snapped out of his reverie by Duncan's war cry. As Duncan lept to attack the men.

Paul instead rushed towards your body. Placing a frantic finger to your pulse point. As he desperately prayed, he wasn't too late. When he did feel your pulse, weak, but there. Paul finally relaxed for the first time since his dream.

Paul watched as Duncan picked up your prone body as they rushed you to the nearest clinic.

When you started to come to consciousness, the first thing you were aware of was a hand gripping yours tightly. You squeezed the hand as you blearily tried to open your eyes. But it wasn't easy. It felt as if someone had attached a ton of bricks to your eyelids.

When you started to see out of your eyes, all you could make out was blurry shapes. When it cleared up. And your view came into focus. You noticed the head of chocolate curls splayed by your hand. As the owner of said curls squeezed your hand in their sleep.

Your best friend who was lying by your bedside. Wait. Hold up. Paul was by your bedside. Why was Paul here? And Where even were you? 

You smiled at the sight of Paul after so many years. You remember when you had been kids and as thick as thieves. Inseparable, and you had a raging crush on him. Not that you had ever told a soul that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Looking around. You wondered where you were. Your best guess was that you were in a hospital. Based on the sterile feeling it was giving of.

Your attention was brought back to Paul when you saw him start to stir. Reaching over, you began to run your other hand through his hair. Smiling as you watched him wake up.

You could tell when Paul's consciousness finally caught up. As his head snapped up to look at you. Your hand that was running through his curls fell off.

"Your awake." Paul breathed. As if he didn't think you would ever wake up.

"I'm awake." you grinned back. Giving Paul's hand a squeeze to assure him you weren't going anywhere.

"Your awake," Paul repeated, this time a grin breaking out across his face. As he leapt forwards. Wrapping his arms around you.

"Not that I don't love seeing you." You started slowly. "But why are you here, and where am I?

"You are in the medical wing of my home," Paul told you. "I had a dream about you needing saving," Paul told you.

"Oh." You breathed out. Bits and pieces of that event coming back.

As if he could see the cloud coming over your face, Paul rapidly changed the subject.

"I'm sorry." Paul blurted out. Trying to distract you.

"For?" You asked. Not sure why he was apologising. "You saved my life."

"For when you left," Paul admitted sheepishly. "I was angry that you were going, and I took it out on you. I pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer."

"I forgave you." You admitted. "It took a while. But I realised why you did it. And I forgave you a long time ago."

"But I shouldn't have done it." Paul reminded you. A bitter tone to his words.

"And that is in the past." You assured him. "What we need to focus on is the future."

"And what do you have in mind?" Paul asked.

"I was hoping I could stay with you." You suggested shyly. Raising your still clasped hands. "Come back as your best friend. Unless you have filled that role already."

"I haven't." Paul rushed to assure you. "That position always has and always will be yours." Taking a deep breath, Paul then forged on. "But I was wondering if you may take on a new role as well?" Paul asked.

"Oh?" You enquired.

"Go on a date with me?" Paul rushed out.

You froze. Shock overcoming your body. When you finally realised what was happening, Paul was still watching you and waiting for your answer. "Of course, I will," You beamed. "I used to have the biggest crush on you." You admitted. "I still do."

"Well, that's a relief." Paul grinned. "As I always have. And always will have a crush on you.

You grinned. Leaning in towards Paul. You fulfilled something you had always dreamed of doing as you gently kissed him. Now. I won't fill you in on all the cliché details. As we all know that it would be heaven.

Unbeknownst to you. The only reason that Paul had summed up the courage to ask you out was a particular dream he had had while sleeping at your bedside.

A prophetic vision of the future to come.

tag list:

@mommmymilkersss

#dune #dune fanfiction #dune film #paul atreides fanfiction #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x y/n #x reader #Imagine

[beneathashadytree]

KISSES - HAWKS/KEIGO TAKAMI X READER

Warnings : none I think, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : tooth-rotting fluff!

Word count : 0.7K words

Synopsis : Missing Hawks was as easy as breathing.

Requests : Are closed for the time being.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

A faint rattling of their windows from behind them only alerted them to the fact that the wind had in fact picked up, just as the forecast had predicted.

“Should probably get up and get the laundry from outside, or else it might get blown away,” they mumbled under their breath, a thoughtful look on their face as they lightly tapped their pen against their chin.

Before they could make any movements to get up from their desk, the ever-so-familiar flapping sound of wings swooping in through their open window startled them into dropping their pen. Warm hands firmly picked them up by their waist, handling them as delicately yet fluidly as they could, and they couldn’t help but squeal for a moment in surprise.

A deep chuckle sounded against their back, as their body was cradled in bridal position against a broad chest, being carried over to their bed.

“Missed me much?” came his voice, and they twisted in his strong arms to look up at his cheeky grin and those twinkling golden eyes they hadn’t seen in far too long.

They laughed up at him, adopting a blissfully carefree tone as their arms tightened around his neck, “You ask that as if you don’t already know the answer.”

It truly had been far too long; dating the pro-hero Hawks was far from easy. His schedule was as messed up as could be, going on patrol daily, being sent on hellishly long missions for God-knows-what reasons, and otherwise working overtime at his agency. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for weeks at a time; something that other partners would’ve definitely found insufferable, and they often found saddening.

Still, they couldn’t let lonely thoughts of missing him dampen the mood, instead opting to use the entirety of their body weight to cause him to stumble, a brief look of alarm making its way on his handsome face before they both toppled back onto the mattress.

“Can’t breathe,” Keigo wheezed, a little red in the face, but still embracing them closer as they entwined their legs with his, a few scarlet feathers drifting off his wings with the force of impact, though he paid them no mind at the moment.

With a plotting smile on their face as they sat on top of him on the receiving end of what could only be described as his most lovesick gaze, they cupped his cheeks, leaning in until they could count every single pale eyelash of his.

When he was positively entranced by them, they began to pepper kisses on his entire face, starting with his slightly ruddy cheeks, “Missed you,” they mumbled, “More than you’ll ever know,” they said between kisses, their lips tracing some sort of imaginary track on his pleasantly surprised and still face.

Keigo weakly managed to hum out, “Mhm?”

“‘S lonely without you,” they sheepishly admitted, breath fluttering over his twitching nose, which was soon kissed as well, “You’re the most god-awful fucking tease,” they grumbled half-heartedly as their lips deftly touched his forehead, pushing his blonde hair back as they did, and moving away to relish in the starstruck blushing expression on his face, “And I guess I miss having that around.”

“Ouch,” he sarcastically said, a small smile on his lips, “Shouldn’t you be nicer to me if you’ve missed me that much?”

As his grip tightened around their waist, firmly planting them to his hips, his hands drawing circles on the expanse of exposed skin, they rolled their eyes, “You’re so greedy for affection,” with a shameless grin from him, they chuckled and leaned back in, this time a hair’s breadth away from tasting him for the first time in what felt like forever, “But I suppose I’ll indulge you this once,” they whispered against his parted lips.

And as they hungrily claimed Keigo’s lips with their mouth, they couldn’t help but melt into his embrace—as they always did, having never been able to grow immune to his charms. They’d begrudgingly admit they loved him a bit too much for that.

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