#distractions he might run into. But at least at this pace he should be off the river before it starts to get dark

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

© norman-fucking-reedus 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, or adpated to any other platform. You may translate my works with my asked and given consent.

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion smut #twd daryl #daryl x you #daryl dixion x reader #daryl imagines

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Freedom Calls

Sneaking in here just might be the dumbest thing you have done, but you can't sit idly by and watch this man be tortured and killed by your corrupt organization. You might not have any better options, but you know that he does. He just needs help getting to them. At least you are good with a lockpick and have security access as a guard. Makes it easier that way. Though, your keycard will be traced to you, and you know that means your life is forfeit. They haven't had time to start on him, though, which means that he should be well enough to escape once he is out the door. And the guard on duty tonight is well known for falling asleep at the job, hiding in a closet nearby. So that should mean you don't have to hurt anyone.

The only thing you didn't account for was him. The man himself.

"Why are you here? What do you want? This is a trick, I know it! No, I'm not playing your games." Finally, you resort to ordering him to cuff up and putting a bag over his head. You drag him out, fighting him every step and pretend to anyone you come across that you've been ordered to bring him to interrogation room 15, which no one wants to admit they have no clue where that is, so your confidently bored voice gets you most of the way across the facility without an issue.

You drag him into an empty bathroom and shove him to the handicap stall before dragging the hood off and uncuffing him.

"What-? Where?!" You shove a hand over his mouth.

"Keep your voice down. I'm trying to set you free, you idiot! Out that window about 10 yards is the perimeter fence. It's got a hole at the bottom that you can crawl through, and then it's straight to the woods from there. North of those woods is a main road where your team can pick you up if they are watching. Shouldn't take more than 10 minutes at a flat out, so long as you don't trip. Now, go already before we get caught, and I die for nothing!"

He seems torn for a moment. You think he is unsure if he should believe you, but the truth is almost worse. He grabs you and tosses you out the window before jumping out himself. Wrapping his hands in the straps of your tac vest, he half carries you like a doll, shoving you through the hole in the fence and following quickly. There are no shouts of alarm yet, luckily. He quickly pulls you to your feet and shoves you toward the woods. You start running, knowing if you are caught, then you're both dead.

At the wood's edge, you hear the first shouts. They are focused inside, and you know they have discovered that he is missing. You pick up the pace, guiding the two of you to a deer path that you know from your leisurely walks at lunch in the forest. He follows you, and you signal to follow the path. Surging past, he goes into a flat-out run. You struggle behind him, doing your best to keep up.

You hear a squad moving behind you. If they catch him, it's game over for both of you, but you know if they catch you that you can be a distraction, giving him a chance to escape. So you duck down a side path, barely wide enough for precise steps. It takes you mostly parallel to the road, east instead of north. After a few hundred feet, you begin purposely making extra noise to attract attention. You can hear them changing direction to follow you, slowed down by the heavier brush. The further you go, the more you outpace them and the less purposeful noise you make. Another few hundred meters or so, and you realize they have turned back, likely assuming they have chased wildlife instead of their target.

Breathing a tiny sigh of relief, you continue looking for a fork in the path to take you north again. You find it surprisingly quickly and come out onto the road about a mile away from the main trail. Almost immediately, you are held at gun point by a man who sports an enemy uniform. Well, an hour ago, he was your enemy, but now, you're not sure.

"Has he made it here yet? The trail I sent him on was only a mile south, and he was far ahead of me." Your question seems to put the man off kilter for a long moment. Too long. You brace yourself, waiting for him to kill you. Instead, a masked man comes around the corner of the vehicle.

"That's the one. Handcuff her and put her in the back. Let's go." You flinch as he handcuffs you tightly but cooperate every step of the way. You're sandwiched between the two men, and you sit quietly as the masked man drives the truck away. Surprisingly, it's as straightforward as just driving down the road to a nearby airport to escape. On board a big military plane, the questions start. They hate your answer that it was a spontaneous decision, and you just didn't think it was right, keeping him there. It's nearly an hour of questions before they seem satisfied.

You can't believe it when they just uncuff you back at the military base. Rather than let you walk away, the masked man pins you to the wall, pressing his body against yours. "You cannot return," he says bluntly.

You shake your head. "No, I can't go back."

He stares at you for a long moment. "Then, you are mine," he says with a growl, dragging you to his quarters without a further word, determined to cement your place at his side.

#call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader

[luna-writes-stuff]

Day 29: Anti-Hero, Echo

Song link

Fanfic, fem!medic! reader

Hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count: 3451

Tw: Being overwhelmed, anxieties and doubts. Omega entering her teenager stage, Tech is kinda a dick. Mentions/descriptions of an explosion, but no wounds. Being out of breath, bottled up feelings. Idk, it’s a lot of words to describe insecurities.

Summary: Travelling with the Bad Batch as the only one who had no military training can sometimes work against you. After experiencing your first explosion, you have a much worse time dealing with it than the rest of the Batch, leaving you feeling like the odd one out. Luckily, Echo is there to comfort you.

“I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons.”

“Y/N, Omega - run!”

Blaster fire came from around the corner, alerting both of you of the new presence. Forcefully, you tore the compact disk from the drive, no longer giving it time to fully process. It was loaded up 95% anyway, that last information couldn’t have been that important.

Shooting up from your spot on the floor, you grabbed Omega’s arm, dragging her with your as you ran in the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps.

“What happened to the distraction?” You yelled over your shoulder, already seeing Wrecker and Hunter catching up.

“Someone forgot to disarm the cameras!” Hunter replied, grasping Omega from you as he pushed her in front of him.

“I did not!” Echo’s voice shot from behind you.

“I did warn that the system would be rebooted far before we would be able to make an ample escape.” That was Tech. Had the adrenaline not been pumping through your body, you might have laughed at him.

“When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room.”

“Can we discuss this when we are safe on the ship?” Omega’s higher voice pitched over the four of you.

A loud noise was heard behind you, and before you even had the chance to properly respond to it, you felt yourself being tackled to the floor. All air got knocked out of your lungs as your chest hit the ground harshly.

Smoke blew from the halls behind you, but you were given no time to point it out. Echo almost immediately got off of you, offering you his hand before pulling you up to your feet, setting the pace as fast as you were able to stand.

Wheezing in discomfort, you tried to catch up, already spotting the ship in the distance.

“Tell me we at least got that disk!” Tech shouted, already having recovered from the blow as well.

Unable to form an audible response, you held the disk up, hoping someone could see it. Echo spared you a short look over his shoulder, simultaneously slowing his pace to match yours.

“She’s got it!” He affirmed, placing a gentle hand on your back as he ushered you forward.

“I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis

Tale as old as time.”

The second your feet hit the familiar floor of the Marauder, you fell into one of the chairs, breathing loudly, bent over your knees to try to catch your breath.

“Tech, you’re flying.” Hunter voiced, already seeing Echo rush towards you.

The clone knelt down in front of you, clasping one of your knees gently. He didn’t say anything, but the second your eyes locked onto his, you could feel his silent question.

“I’m fine,” you wheezed out, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just wasn’t prepared.”

When his eyes did not seem to fade from concern once, you tried to smile. “You’re heavier than you look.” A joke. Echo did not seem to respond to it.

“I’m fine.” You assured again, resting your hand atop his as an offer of comfort. Finally, he seemed to let it go, squeezing your hand once before standing back up.

“I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

For the last time.”

After the take-off, your breathing seemed steadier, and you prepared yourself to get off of the chair. Wobbling on both legs, you inhaled deeply. They all seemed to handle explosions well. Almost too well. You? You were just recovering from a near death experience. Had Echo not - literally - knocked the air out of you, the panic most certainly would have.

Walking up to the cockpit, you leaned against the doorframe, making your presence known to Hunter, who nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“I don’t know how you guys do it.” You spoke up, referring to the earlier incident.

“Unfortunately, we have gotten used to it.” Tech voiced, preparing the jump to hyperspace.

“I figured.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunter shrugged. “We are trained for this. You are not. It’s not weird to lack breath after that explosion.”

“Or that running.” Echo added, raising from his seat in a silent gesture for you to take it. But you lightly shook your head instead.

“I’m gonna help Omega out on some work.” And with that, you abandoned the pit.

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees.”

“This is stupid,” the girl whined, flopping down on her bed as you took the pad from her. “I’m supposed to be training so I can fight out there. Not learning things that I won’t use later.”

“Knowledge is a dangerous opponent,” you commented while reading through her notes. “You don’t want to be all brawn, no brain.”

“That’s why we have you, right?” She sighed. “You know a lot, but you don’t fight.”

Silently gathering her feedback, you formed your lips in a thin line. “Well, I am an adult, and you are not.”

“That’s not fair.”

“When you come of age, you can make your own choices,” you lectured. “No one likes school, but it is something we must all sit through. In the end, you’ll be grateful for it.”

“I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror.

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

“Knowledge won’t help you shoot a fighter out of the sky.” She objected, using her fist as a fighter, letting her hand extend to imitate an explosion.

“Do not be so sure about that.” You attempted to joke, but - once again - it went unheard.

“Our team needs more muscle. We need to destroy the empire!”

“Omega,” you shut her down, lowering the tab and raising your eyebrows. “There are enough children in galaxies out there who never had a chance at education. Do not leave this as a thing you took for granted.”

In response, she sighed, rolling her eyes at you. That was something that took you back. Sure, you’ve had this conversation with her before, but she had never rolled her eyes at you before. She hadn’t rolled her eyes to anyone before.

Instead of scolding her, or commenting on her attitude, your shoulders slumped. You had no more energy left for this.

“You’re right, it is late,” you sighed, handing her the tab back. “And we’ve had quite the day behind us. We’ll resume this tomorrow.”

“Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill.”

Echo always stayed up too late. There was enough to do on the Marauder, even after errands and missions. For now, he was helping Tech with the disk you managed to secure earlier.

You had already made your way into your bed, wrapped under warm blankets, a sudden dreadful feeling setting in in the pit of your stomach. Tiniest things suddenly seemed so overwhelming. The explosion, the fact that you were the only one who did not seem to be okay, Hunter almost pitying you, and then Omega rolling her eyes at you.

You were exhausted. That was simply it. That must have been it. Sure, having travelled with the Batch for as long as you had now, you had gotten used to being a little more out of shape than them, but you simply dealt with it. Yes, you worked on stamina and running speed, but you wouldn’t beat them. That hadn’t even been your goal. Hunter was right; they had been trained for this their entire lives. You had not. You had been a medic hired at the beginning of the clone wars. You didn’t even have that much experience yet. The republic was simply desperate.

But sometimes, you felt like the odd one out. An ironic thing to say in such a group of clones. Omega was right; you always stayed on the ship. You made sure they were safe, and had backup in case they needed it. You flew the ship when Echo or Tech could not. You made sure their weapons were charged, and that their armour was strong enough to get them through. You patched them up when they couldn’t do it themselves. But whenever they left that ship, there was some part of it that left you almost lonely.

And sometimes, that feeling could get overwhelming. So when Tech called your name after you’ve just settled into bed, you had to put all your strength into getting up, and not pretending as if you hadn’t heard him.

“Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.”

“Something wrong?” You asked, ascending down the tiny stairs.

“Are you sure you had the right disk?” He questioned, gesturing towards the piece you had snagged earlier.

“It was the only one there. Couldn’t have picked the wrong one.” You answered, shifting your weight to the balls of your feet. “Why?”

“It appears the location of the recruiting station of the Empire has been lost.” He returned, gesturing towards the screen that had pages of information about said station, except for its whereabouts.

Squinting your eyes at the sudden bright light, you looked at the clone. “Maybe it wasn’t on there.”

“Our intel was very specific about this one.”

And then, as if everything suddenly seemed to click, you froze, your eyes widening as your hands fell by your sides.

“Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman?

Tale as old as time.”

“Cyar’ika?” Echo spoke, forcing your thoughts back on the present. “Everything all right?”

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at your feet.

“Well, I think I might know why you cannot find it.” You offered meekly. “But I do not believe you’ll enjoy the reasoning.”

You were answered with silence, but you could feel Tech’s eyes drilling holes into the front of your head.

“The disk was still loading when you came running,” you explained, reminiscing the earlier encounter. “It had charged to 95%,”

“Then you unplugged it.” Tech mumbled, continuing your sentence.

You hummed in agreement, shrinking under his stare.

“That disk was our easiest shot at destroying the Empire’s army at the root. You were made aware of that, correct?”

“Yes, I talked about it with Cid, but-“ “So what made you think that we could lose any part of that information?!” He fumed, slamming his hand down on the desk, causing Echo to rise to his feet immediately.

“What would you have had me do?!” You returned in equal volume, though your voice had been upset instead of angered.

“Take cover and wait for those last five percentages!”

“And risk my life?”

“More lives will be lost if the Empire keeps gaining the upper hand!”

“I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

For the last time.”

“Enough!” Echo interrupted, standing in front of you, blocking you from Tech’s view. “This was the easiest way, not the only way. We at least know their training now, we can use it against them. We’ll get another chance.”

“This whole mission has been for nothing!”

“What is going on?” Hunter broke through, barging from his cot underneath the small stairs.

“We cannot find the location of the station,” Echo spoke instantly, not giving Tech a moment to rant first. “It appears not all information made it onto the disk.”

Hunter’s face seemed to fall slightly, but he gathered it quickly, nodding his head in understanding.

“It’s been a long day,” he started, walking up to the three of you, planting his hand on Tech’s shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

You could hear Tech grumbling under his breath, but you were gently shoved forward before you could make anything out. Echo’s hand made its way on your back, keeping your balance as you ascended the stairs. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you opened the curtains to your shared cot.

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees.”

You were back under the blankets almost immediately, seeing it as your one resource of solitude and comfort.

“You know Tech didn’t mean to freak out,” Echo stated softly, removing the armour from his upper body. “Hunter’s right: it’s been a long day. It’s getting to all of us.”

When you didn’t respond to him, he went on, stacking the pieces neatly before working on his left arm. “After you left for Omega, Wrecker didn’t even laugh at any of Hunter’s stupid jokes. He went to sleep soon after that.”

“Omega rolled her eyes at me today.” You commented, regretting the words almost immediately after they had left your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “It’s not a big deal, I know, but it’s the one thing that made this whole thing even worse.”

“This thing?” He repeated, abandoning everything he had wanted to say earlier.

“It’s nothing.” You dismissed, turning around to face the wall, silently wishing you hadn’t said anything at all.

“I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

His hand, now without armour or gloves, touched your shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin. The mere touch sent goosebumps down your back, making you shiver slightly.

“It isn’t nothing if it bothers you this much.”

You opted to remain quiet now, knowing that if you would run your mouth again, you probably wouldn’t shut it. But Echo wasn’t having it.

“Mesh’la, talk to me.”

Begrudgingly, you turned around, grabbing his hand to prevent him from retrieving it. You were grateful he had closed the curtains already, for the room was darker now. Dark enough that you couldn’t properly make out his face. It gave you slight courage.

“I think the explosion was a bit too much for me.” You admitted, keeping his hand close to your face as you curled up slightly. “All of you pretended as if it was nothing, so it’s stupid of me to pretend as if it is such a terrible thing.”

“It isn’t,” Echo reassured. “Explosions still terrify me to this day. But I don’t get a chance to freeze in the middle of battle. I’m a soldier, I fight my way out of it. You are not.”

“Omega is half my age,” you argued. “She seemed fine.”

“Omega was raised amongst clones. This wouldn’t have been her first gig.”

“I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will.”

“But I was the only one,” you finally confessed. “And I am always the only one.”

You heard shuffling from beside you, before the bed dipped even more, Echo’s hand moving from your grip momentarily as he laid down, then making his way to your hold again.

“I don’t fight, Echo. I stay behind where it’s safe.”

“I’d rather have you here, than out there.”

“Of course, you’d say that, but I don’t do anything here. Tech has a mind unparalleled to others, Wrecker has muscles that could beat a Wookiee’s, Hunter can intercept danger far before any of the others can, you know so many battle tactics, that not even commando droids have time to analyse them, but I do nothing that cannot be replaced by someone else.”

“I don’t think I’d like to sleep beside Wrecker.” The man tried to joke, but you shoved his shoulder in disagreement.

“I’m serious, Echo. It’s always been on my mind, but after today it’s grown more apparent.” Another heavy sigh. “And then Omega rolls her eyes at me, and Tech lashes out at me and I don’t know what to say or do anymore.”

“The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell".”

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he mutters, moving his figure closer to yours as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his hold. His head rested atop yours, a gentle kiss placed on top of it before he stayed there.

“I don’t think you have any idea how significant you are to this team.”

You hummed in mockery, your hands wrapping around his arm as you relished underneath his touch.

“If not for you, Wrecker would have lost all four limbs by now and Hunter would have needed to buy new armour every mission. Tech wouldn’t have his gadgets you get from other planets, Omega would be as smart as a deactivated droid, and I would have been wallowing in self-pity since Skako Minor.”

Again, you didn’t respond to that. You had closed your eyes halfway, fatigue setting in over your frustrations and anxieties.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Echo asked, forcing you to open your eyes, even though he couldn’t see them.

“Yes,” you whispered, resting your eyes after your answer.

“Trust me when I say that I do not want anyone else doing the things you do for us. And they do not go unappreciated by me.”

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees.”

“I know,” you admitted, already aware of the fact that Echo held more appreciation for you than he’d often think to voice. “But sometimes these thoughts just get the best of me. And I get the feeling I’m alone in them, so I don’t announce them.”

“You’re not alone,” He reassured, gently toying with the ends of your hair. “I sometimes wonder if I’d have been more helpful if I was simply human again.”

At that, you frowned, turning your head slightly to look up at him. “You are human.”

“I am more droid than human.” He mumbled, his hand falling to the small of your back. “And even then, I am a replication of someone else.”

“No,” you refused. “You have a mind of your own. No droid or man can influence that. I’ve seen your brothers, but none of them are like you.”

As you referred to his brothers, you felt him stiffen in your hold momentarily. You both knew you weren’t talking about the Batch. You were referring to his days in the 501st.

“That’s what makes you human,” you went on, trying to get his mind off of the subject, knowing you had hit a sensitive subject, even though you had not meant to. And so, again, you tried to lighten the situation by a joke.

“And I don’t think I would’ve fallen for a droid.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat, vibrating through his chest. A silent sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“You had fallen for me way before I turned into this.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “But it didn’t make me hesitant when I saw you again.”

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees.”

His hand began to trace patterns under your shirt, something he had done countless times before going to sleep. And even after all that time, a light feeling entered your stomach. Looking back down, you nuzzled in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.

“Don’t go to sleep like this again, please.” Echo’s voice cut through the quiet air. “You can always talk to me, even if you don’t know how.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “But you seem busy enough with your own problems.”

“I am not,” He argued, a teasing tone to his voice, before it shifted into a serious one again. “I am never too busy when it comes to you.”

“Sap.” You commented.

“Jerk.”

The silence that now hung in the ship was comfortable, and not dreadful. If anything, it was almost welcomed. And you enjoyed it more than you found yourself doing before.

“Thank you, Echo.” You finally said, grabbing the blanket to raise it over both your figures. “I love you.”

A sigh of amusement escaped him as he leaned down once more to place a kiss on top of your head.

“I love you too, Cyar’ika. Get some sleep.”

And then, ultimately, you found some peace in your day. Sleep found you not long after, locked in Echo’s embrace. All night, he wouldn’t move, his mind asleep, but his figure clung to you in an everlasting comforting embrace.

Some matters could be resolved by a simple touch.

“I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

#november writings 2022 #TBB #the bad batch #echo #arc trooper echo #echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #Star Wars #tcw #the clone wars #the bad batch x reader #echo tbb #echo the bad batch

[apex-academy]

Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#18)

Lunch is my first remotely decent excuse to leave Mahavir’s side. As much as I’d like to support my friend, watching him stew in his guilt sure isn’t helping me. Which means I’m not helping him much, either.

I confirm he’s staying in the Nurse’s Office, then trek back to the cafeteria. No Tsunyasha, at least.

“Oh, GREAT! JUST when I thought I might get some PEACE AND QUIET!”

“Right, I’m the threat to that here.”

I flee to the kitchen before he can manage a coherent response. No idea what I want to eat, though, and Mahavir certainly didn’t have suggestions. Time to stand blankly in front of an open refrigerator and hope it hikes up the young master’s electric bills.

Unfortunately, it’s also cold, so I grab some cheese and deli meat and shut the door before too long. After a few moments’ contemplation, I decide I’m not in the mood for any more meal-making decisions, so I’ll just make rollups of these. Bread’s overrated, anyway.

“...And so are condiments, I guess.”

Whatever. I’m sticking with it.

...And standing in the kitchen to eat so I don’t have to hear whatever Ichiriki’s raving about now. Is he just bored? Does he need some new colors of chalk for a little enrichment?

Well. I make fun of him, but I sure wouldn’t mind access to the art room again. No chance of that unless someone else uses it for a murder, though.

“...”

I finish my food and make Mahavir a plate. Can’t imagine him having any remnant of an appetite right now, but might as well try.

Unfortunately, the cafeteria’s still the only exit from here. 

Maybe I should run.

Or actually check on Ichiriki, I guess. Gotta admit, “Is Ichiriki doing okay” is not a thought that’s crossed my mind much. He’s just... He just is. I don’t know. He’s free to leave with the rest of us if he is one of us, but until then... Not my problem. Got enough of those already.

So, a fine brisk pace it is.

But when I step out, Ichiriki is no longer alone.

“...sure you wouldn’t be interested?”

“Of COURSE NOT! The FIRST one was bad ENOUGH!”

“But you’re curious, aren’t you?”

“No!”

“Just a little bit?”

“MAYBE!”

“........”

Think I’m good to just. Slink on out of here unnoticed.

“Ah, Miss Kogamino!”

Assuming Aidan wouldn’t notice something was a bad call on my part. “Do I want to know what I’m missing over here?”

“You ABSOLUTELY don’t!”

Not sure why I asked. Really striking out on logical behavior today.

“Not another weird dream, I hope?”

“No...”

“...Or at least not one of my own! There’s no telling where the writers got their inspiration, of course.”

Ichiriki mentioned “the first one”...

“Ah. The movie sequel.”

“.............”

More words are said, but I’m so distracted I can’t even tell who spoke. With current company, that’s really saying something.

Another dream... What was it that I...

“Hang on.”

I turn around to retrieve my little “young master deductions”—like you could really call them that—notebook and flip to the last filled pages, the letters askew and distorted from drowsiness and poor lighting.

Flashback dreams... Yeah, I sure do have those sometimes.

But not just me.

I wheel on Aidan and slap my hands on the table to catch myself, interrupting whatever I end up interrupting.

“Aidan! Your dream!”

The boys break off their conversation with widely varying levels of offended sputtering. Aidan adjusts his glasses.

“Er. The ‘professional air traffic controller’ one, or something else?”

“The one you told me about the other day.” Yesterday? I don’t even know anymore. 

“You woke up in a mirror of Lab Room A, right?”

“Within the dream? Yes, that sounds accurate.”

The table’s edge digs into my palms.

“What if that was real?”

He hums.

“I suppose it’s entirely possible. There must be a Lab Room B, after all, even if we’ve yet to be allowed inside.” 

“And I’m sure I would have been kept somewhere on-campus to minimize risk of discovery by unrelated parties.”

“Which is probably why we haven’t been let inside, right? If the young master’s cutting-edge revival technology, or whatever, was in there...”

I lean in further, much to Ichiriki’s offense. Don’t care.

“Were any of the other students there in the dream? Can you remember?”

“I hate to report that dreams are partially immune from my perfect memory skills here, but... Let’s see.”

Ichiriki grumbles to himself, but at least he’s not yelling over us. Probably doesn’t know what to say. I’ll take it.

“I can’t guarantee that the other fallen students were present.” 

“But I am certain that the life support systems and such did not take up the entirety of the room. There was space for other beds, or whatever you'd call the thing I was lying on.”

“So, if all of you were hooked up before that motive vote, and only before it, and if you’re the only one who was—then—!”

I think he responds, but I’m busy swinging my head around to check every corner of the room. Not here. Wasn’t in the kitchen. But if I’m right...

Dizzy, I try to remember to breathe as I charge into the hallway.

“MONOCHAP! I need to talk to you, now!”

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex6 #fangan

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #37

Batgirl (2000) #17 - August 2001 Writer: Kelley Puckett Pencils: Damion Scott inks: Robert Campanella Colors: Jason Wright

Cass's book as been pretty downbeat for the last few issues. The tone of Cass's book overall is pretty sad and heavy, and normally I'm all about that angst, but the book can't live on angst alone, so have to have some brighter moments for contrast, you've gotta take the pressure off every once in a while if you want to keep building it or you just burn out the scale. So this issue brings us a refreshing change of pace, if only to give Cass and the reader a bit of a breather.

Sorry if this one goes up late. I'm running behind time wise, but I don't want to take a minimal approach to this issue, it's pretty important and has a lot of great moments. Do pease read it for yourself first, though.

The issue starts with this pretty cool sequence showing Cass's perspective as she gets distracted by the woman running away and lets this random goon land a punch on her. I like how the slideshow effect of the three repeated panels really emphasizes how much time Cass had to dodge this punch.

Followed by this great 'like father like daughter moment after she knocks the guy out where Cass and Bruce both have the same surprised and befuddled "Hmm" reaction to what just happened, with the same expression on their face and everything.

The perfectly synchronized training afterwords is also great, as is Bruce's worried expression. I can't keep copying every page over, we'll be here all day, but this issue really is great. One of my favorites. Again, go read it for yourself if you haven't.

Anyway, on the one hand this is such an indictment of Bruce. We the audience know that 'somethings been wrong' with Cass for a while, basically the entire time. She's consumed by guilt to a near suicidal degree and the loneliness and isolation of her lifestyle - even before she was forced out of Bab's clock tower but especially since - has left her without any companionship beyond her own self destructive thoughts, and the mission she's so dedicated to as her only hope of redemption continuously exposes her to the worst of humanity. So yeah, that Bruce didn't already know something was wrong, that he didn't anticipate how his decisions were making things worse, that he only notices that anything's off at all once Cass's mental state is bad enough that it's affecting her performance on the job? Yeah, that's pretty bad, if also so completely him.

On the other hand, you can see the concern all over his face. He should have seen this coming, he should have noticed it sooner, but now that he has he is very genuinely worried on her behalf, and that does count for something, even if he'll need help figuring out what's wrong or what to do about it.

And that help just so happens to call in the form of Barbara Gordon, who can hack in to delete the government's digital records on Cass's face, but needs her to sneak in and destroy the physical records.

At first Cass and Bruce don't feel like this is worth bothering with, as neither sees any value in her potential future civilian persona worth taking this risk to get it back, but Babs points out how they might yet connect the data they have to Batgirl and that convinces Bruce, which in turn convinces Cassandra because she absolutely does not think for herself these days.

I love this Jab Babs gets in at Bruce as Cass leaves, though I do wish it was made a bit more explicit that the *reason* Bruce has been keeping Cass on such a 'short leash' is that he doesn't fully trust her ever since David sent the video of her killing that man way back in issue number 4. On the surface Bruce is still deep in denial over it, but some part of it has to know, has to doubt at least. As is I'm pretty sure that's intentional subtext but because it's not explicit in the text I could just be reading in something that isn't really there.

In infiltration mission is pretty cool, starting with this sequence where Cass steals a key card off of a guard's bead chain, copies it, and puts it back without him noticing, which has Barbara admitting that the 'short leash' is starting to make sense. Just what exactly would Cass be capable of if she were allowed to run free?

....

The mission is successful, the files and physical evidence destroyed, and Cass's out-of-costume persona is free and clear. She can visit Barbara again, can see the sun again. Can. But will she?

Babs clearly doesn't think she will, at least not on her own, and so she goes to Bruce about it

It's a nice scene. I've missed Bab's presence in Cass's book the last few issues. This 'arguing over what's best for Cass' bit is fun, and also important characterization. I love how Bruce's expression as he says "Mole creature?" makes clear that he recognizes Bab's comment as a criticism of him and his lifestyle.

Of course, Bruce has a different idea of what's been bothering Cass. Not the isolation, not how /he's/ been treating her, but the mission. Everything's the mission for Bruce, and Cass is just like Bruce after all. The thing is, as right as Barbara clearly is here, Bruce probably isn't wrong either. Cass, like Bruce, dwells on her 'failures'. But taking down the villain responsible never actually makes Bruce feel any better.

Barbara still presses him to just order Cass to get some sun. The fact that she shouldn't need Bruce to tell her to do that, that this level of devotion and lack of independent motivation is a bad thing in and of it self, is too big of a problem to tackle today.

And to his credit Bruce relents!

I love these panels. You can feel how overwhelming the light is after so long in the darkness. Also good work from the colorist, showing this transition by going from all dark and cool colors that dominate her book to these warm (but washed out and too bright as her eyes struggle to adjust) colors. I mean, it's a fairly obvious trick, like being wowed when a musician changes chords, but it just works so well here.

And it's not just the sun, it's the people. Not just cass literally going from darkness to light but also going from being surrounded by victims and criminals, by the suffering and the cruel, and emerging into a wider world full of all the breadth and diversity of the human experience, loud happy annoyed worried people walking and running and shouting and living their lives that Scott does such a great job conveying with just a single page full of different and interesting faces.

And afterwards she's so happy, having picked up a rose from, somewhere, we don't see that bit. But of course Bruce needs to interrupt this moment of happiness.

So Cass does go to confront gov't man.

but clearly she doesn't actually feel better about what happened afterwords.

Her symbolism happiness rose, only so recently acquired, is already wilting. It's clearly not the sort of thing she can go to Bruce about. So, for once, now that she can, Cass actually reaches out to Barbara for help. About the rose. About what it means that getting justice for repentant sniper man's death didn't make her feel any better about it.

It's a great little scene to end out the comic. Symbolism's a bit on the nose, but it works. it's sincere.

The angst and darkness of the last few issues has been a lot, but it makes this bit of brightness feel all the more impactful. The underlying issues aren't resolved, it's still a problem that Cass has basically slotted Bruce into exactly the same unhealthy role that David used to occupy in her life. It's still a problem that Bruce let her do that. A real confrontation when Bruce can no longer deny the fact that she killed someone is still looming, as is her death match with Lady Shiva. But she's not quite so isolated now, and she's re-established a connection with someone who might actually be able to help her work through some of this stuff.

This might be the issue that best demonstrates the importance of Barbara Gordon in Cass's story, the key role she plays balancing out Bruce's influence. these interpersonal relationships and how they feed off each other - Cass/Bruce/David, Cass/Bruce/Barbara, they're the core of what makes Cass's book and Cass as a character so compelling.

......

Side note: I've waffled in the past over how much crediting to put at the start of each of these posts in terms whether to include inker and/or colorist even though I rarely comment on those issues. I'm wondering if I should also list the editor each time, as they also potentially have a pretty big say over what does or doesn't end up in the books, and keeping track of changing editors might be informative as to other changes in direction, or might show why some of Cass's side appearances work better than others?

For the Record, at least as far as her solo book goes, the editor as of issue 17 is Michael Wright, who took over from Dennis O'Neil starting in issue 14, the one where Bruce moved Cass out of Barbara's clock tower and into her own cave. Dennis O'Neil had been the editor of the book since issue 3 and co-edited issue 2 with Darren Vincenzo, who was the editor for issue 1. I think Michael Wright stays as editor for the rest of Cass's Batgirl run, save maybe for some one off exceptions here or there? So noting editors would be more for the sake of guest appearances.

There's also the issue of who's in charge at DC. As of issue 17 that's still Jenette Khan as President and Editor in Chief, but eventually Dan DiDio takes over, and it'll be worth noting when that happens. The fandom tends to assign him a lot of the blame for 'ruining' Cass's character, but as mentioned a few times already they also tend to date that downturn purely to the end of her ongoing title and heel turn in 'One Year Later.' I claim the decline started setting in much sooner then that, but I don't remember whether it started before or after DiDio's tenure as EIC began.

That's still a long way off from where this blog currently is, though.

Thankfully.

#Sception Reads Cassandra Cain #Cassandra Cain #Batgirl #Bruce Wayne #Barbara Gordon

[rist-ix]

at this point I’m not above begging the old gods for a tbhtbh update and I’m sure as hell not above begging you so please please-

(At least a snippet???)

okay so there’s a whole bunch of asks in my inbox asking for a snippet and I keep putting it off to answer them, because surely I should answer them when I actually have written on? And surely that’s gonna be soon, right?? Right????? But now it’s been months and I’m haunted by all the nice words and funny jokes and cool asks that I never answered because UGH my brain hAS NOT DELIVERED and I didn’t want to show up empty handed, u know? my anxiety is building and my time to write is shrinking and I am A Mess, BUT!!! I’ve also decided to say fuck it and just throw out the stuff I’ve ignored for a good few weeks. So at everyone whose asks I’ve ignored, please know that I am tormented by shame and adhd in equal measures, a never-ending cycle of horror and procrastination.

Anyway. Magix City my beloved!!!

His roar of fury follows her into the hallway, but she doesn’t slow down. Her one chance, her final chance, is now. She knows from Darcy herself that the witch isn’t scrying for her when she’s with Valtor, and she knows from Stormy that the handcuffs’ lifetime is dependent on how strong the captive is. Right now, Valtor is much, much more powerful than her.

She’s paced these corridors for days, weeks. She has gotten lost, confused, and distracted in these hallways, but she has also grown familiar. And now, tonight, it all pays off.

She finds the way. Finds the portal. Far behind her she can hear Valtor call her name, can feel the bond surging with regained magic as he gives chase, and she knows that her window is closing.

Those last few meters feel like eternity. Any moment his hand will close around her shirt, her arm, her neck; any moment she will be torn back and everything will be over. She thinks of Stella, of Flora, of all her friends and how they’d laughed at Alfea, strolled through the city. I’m coming, she thinks. I promise.

She can feel the building heat of a spell behind her.

But it’s too late.

She sets foot into the thin, glowing circle of the portal, and then there’s the blinding light of teleportation.

Just like that, she’s through. She’s out.

The brilliant magic of the portal plucks her from the cold, pale sphere that is Domino, catapults her through thousands of lightyears of space, and spits her out on black asphalt.

She fails to catch her fall, her momentum causing her to roll over her shoulder and bruise her knees on the rough ground. When she comes to a stop, her palms are scratched open and there’s a little bit of blood running down her shins. She hisses in pain and tears her hair back, looking around, preparing to fight off whoever comes through after her.

But he doesn’t appear.

There’s only the dark, rain-wet street before her. Reflecting the colourful lights of the skyscrapers lining it, the streetlamps, the tail-lights of hovering cars zooming by. A rainbow of vibrant blues and purples and yellows, of red and pink and so, so many others. Neon signs and brightened windows cutting through the cloudy night sky, still roiling with the promise of rain.

Magix City. She’s in Magix City.

She’s home.

A wave of sound crashes down on her and she falls right back onto her scraped knees, too stunned to cover her ears. After the long, unnatural silence of Domino, everything is so loud. Angry, beeping horns of cars in the distance, engines whining and roaring, the pitter-patter of a million steps as people mill about on the sidewalks, heeled shoes against wet stone. A prism full of colors in just their clothes, their hair, their faces as they stream by.

Even at night Magix is a bustling metropolis, full of life and noise and light.

She’s assaulted by so many impressions all at once she feels like she might go blind and deaf from it, and still she can’t look away. Three years she hasn’t been here. Almost four, now.

It’s so, so beautiful. In that shrill, dazzling, vibrant way only Magix can be. She feels just like she did then, when she’d first set foot into its labyrinthine, multilayered streets. Like she is on the cusp of something new, something chaotic and magical. Limitless and never-ending, never-resting.

Freedom. She’s free.

A blaring horn snaps her back to the present, and she whirls around only to shield her eyes from the blinding headlights of a car. Someone’s yelling for her to get up, get off the street, are you insane? She jumps to her feet and realizes that she’s in the middle of the road, in her pajamas, and cars have had to hit the brakes or they would have run her over.

Adrenaline hot in her veins, she stumbles back towards the sidewalk, looking around. People have stopped walking and are pointing at her, some talking to each other behind raised hands. Some look worried, some are snickering, and some look alarmed. Shocked.

She remembers that her picture had been plastered across screens and billboards for years, combined with a shady excuse and a bounty that no sane person could have spent in their entire lifetime.

And that Magix is crawling with Valtor’s marks.

No sooner had she finished the thought than she feels the gaze of dozens of eyes snap to her, all at once. Faces in the crowd turning towards her as if magnetized, their eerie synchrony sending goosebumps down her spine.

There’s no life in their stare. Because they’re not the ones looking.

She doesn’t wait for them to come any closer. She ducks her head and starts sprinting, slipping through the gaps in the crowd like a fish against the current. From the corners of her eyes she can see them start to move, to follow her, and her thundering heartbeat seems to choke her in her throat. She hasn’t thought this through at all, there’s a reason she never returned here with Stella. But the only thing on her mind when she’d stepped through that portal had been her friends, how happy they’d been, and the magical gateway had dropped her at the closest match to that nebulous feeling it could find. In the middle of a street, at the heart of this city they had loved.

And now Valtor knows she’s here.

A hand snatches her wrist, and another grabs her hair, marks swarming towards her from all corners of the city. She cries out in pain and hears people start to shout in confusion, but even if they wanted to risk helping her, they wouldn’t have the power to get through the mind-controlled puppets.

But she does, she remembers as the marks try to pull her back, push her down.

A blaze of light and she is bursting free, fluttering wings carrying her up above them and the crowd. Glittering cyan settling on her skin, golden tiara flashing in her hair, and if there had been any doubts in anyone as to who she is, they are now shown irrefutable proof.

#i have so many feelings about magix city and im frankly underutilizing it in every fic i write #asks #fic: to be hunted to be haunted #the copy pasting from my notes app has sadly robbed it of its italics #but whatever #winx club #maybe now I’ll be able to answer all the other asks without cringing with embarrassment for my procrastination #I’m pretty busy with the internship until autumn but I hope I’ll get some writing done until then

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

You're So Stubborn (Rick Flag Drabble)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: When you are left unconscious in the hospital after a mission, Rick must come to terms with his feelings before it is too late.

Word Count: 667

TW: Unconscious Reader, Hospital, Love Confession

Rick hesitated just outside your hospital room, part of him still too scared to go in. Through the window, he could see the bandages wrapped around a large percentage of your body and all the wires connecting you to various machines. At least they had taken you off the ventilator, but he couldn’t allow himself to feel relieved about this small improvement. He hadn’t seen any of your doctors or nurses today, so he hadn’t been updated on your progress. But after two days in a coma, he guessed there wasn’t much to update him on.

He cautiously took one step into the room. Then another. He kept going one halting step at a time until he reached the chair placed next to your bed. Sinking down into it, he stared at your peaceful face for a few minutes.

Finally, he reached out a gently grasped one of your hands. “Hey, darlin’….How ya doing? Stupid question, I guess. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner, but it’s just…hard…seeing you like this. And I don’t even know if you can hear me.”

He began slowly running his thumb across your knuckles, mindful of the tubes and wires attached to your hand. “You saved everyone you know. Because of your distraction, I was able to get the rest of the team out. You’re a hero, and I think I might even be able to convince Waller to knock extra time off your sentence for this. But you have to get better, you have to wake up.” But you didn’t stir.

Suddenly, Rick felt a wave of anger surge through his body. He jumped to his feet and began pacing around the room, rubbing a hand furiously across the back of his neck. “God, you are so stubborn! Why couldn’t you listen to me just once! You could have been killed and it would have been my fault! I was supposed to protect you! I was supposed to be the one who took one for the team, not you. Never you.” But just as quickly as the anger had overtaken him, it vanished leaving only a dull ache in its place. Standing at the foot of your bed, he hung his head as he whispered, “Please, darlin’, just wake up. I can’t lose you. I….I love you.”

“………Do you really mean that?”

Rick’s head shot up at the rasping sound of your voice. Through a mask of pain and tiredness, your eyes twinkled brightly at him, a smile dancing on your lips.

He stumbled back from the bed in shock. “What the hell? But-I thought you..”

“I woke up a few hours ago. I was actually a little disappointed you weren’t here when I opened my eyes, but better late than never.” You chuckled hoarsely, but then your face grew more serious. “Did you really mean it? Do you– do you love me?”

Rick looked at the floor, jaw clenched and hands tightening into fists. As glad as he was you were awake, he had never planned on telling you how he felt. After June, he didn’t know if he could handle the rejection.

However, you just reached over and took his hand. “Because I love you. I have since the day you saved me from those guards, when you taught me how to protect myself. And that’s why I did what I did. You’ve saved me so many times, and I just thought this time I would repay the favor. Protect the man I love.”

“I appreciate it darlin’ but don’t ever do that again. But I did mean what I said. I can’t lose you and…. I love you.” He gently placed a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

You beamed at him but then shook your head with a small chuckle. “I’m so happy to hear you say those words……. Except, this now means I owe Harley $50. Turns out you should never bet against a former psychiatrist about someone’s feelings toward you.”

#sfw repost #drabble #rick flag drabble #rick flag #rick flag x reader #colonel rick flag #joel kinnaman #the suicide squad #dc #dc x reader #love confession #hospital tw #unconscious reader tw

[ja3gerb0mbb]

bloodsucker chapter 15: reconciliation

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: none

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“jean, i think i might actually die,” i threw my fists onto my eyes; applying pressure to them. as if i wasn’t drowning in schoolwork before; i was now with the extra four classes i took on. making up work for the content i missed meant that i barely had time for any form of social life. 

he looked up from his textbook, “well, this is what you get for trying to finish two years of college in one.” for the past few weeks, jean had become my rock. the confidant i could tell all my vampire problems to. he also made a good study partner because he didn’t bother me as i worked. “yeah, i know.”

the visit with grisha was still fresh in my mind. like it was just yesterday eren and i went to the mansion. my anxiety was topped with the end of the semester work. it was easy to run away to germany with eren; but the reality of getting there was back-breaking. eren only had to take a couple extra classes to finish by the end summer, but i had to double it. 

on the drive home that night, we figured we might as well get our degrees. even though we truly didn’t need them; it felt like the right way to tie up our lives here with. at least, at the time it seemed like a smart choice. “i can’t believe you guys are really doing this, though,” jean grabbed my attention back, closing his book as i shut off my laptop. a quick break won’t hurt anyone. 

“i can’t either. but we’ve got it all planned out.” a smile i couldn’t hide appeared on my face. thinking of the life i had ahead with eren made all the work worth it. i knew the fear of grisha would follow us; but we hoped he himself wouldn’t. “did you plan to leave all of us behind?” jean joked, but his face was concerned. 

i laughed at him, “no, we planned that too. as long as grisha is away from shiganshina, it’s easy enough to visit you guys. and my dad.” with zeke as our ‘mole’ everything worked out perfectly. too perfectly. eren kept telling me i was paranoid; maybe i should start listening to him. i hoped the nerves would start to settle after finalizing the move.

his mood perked up instantly, “wait really?” his voice had gone a bit higher. i nodded my head. “i’m just glad you’re happy. eren too. i watched as vampirism took over his life, i was worried it would happen with you,” his features dipped back into a twinge of sadness. memories haunted both of us. 

but jean was right. i was happy like this. it might’ve been eren, or the vampirism, but it didn’t matter. i adjusted well and quickly, the amplified changes made everything easier. it was comforting having eren go through it with me. he made the biggest difference. sometimes i felt like nothing was even real; like i was in a coma and this was all just a dream. 

the door to my room swung open with a loud thud, drawing me out of my thoughts, “hey slut!” connie squealed, pitching his voice to sound like a girl. he jumped from his spot in the doorframe, tackling my sitting body to the floor completely.

i was aware of the pressure his body weight put on me, but it didn’t register as being painful. “do you really have to tackle me every time you see me?” i complained. he lifted himself above me, extending his arms to read my face, “course i do!” he said it like it was obvious.

sasha stood a few paces behind us, “we’re going to the beach,” she interrupted, high pitch in her tone. in a swift movement connie jumped off of me, standing on his own feet again. going over to jean, he ruffled his hair, earning a hard slap to the arm from him, “cut it out,” jean bit. 

they didn’t distract me for long, “no way, we’re literally balls deep in finals.” the workload was so heavy, i don’t think i could even have fun without feeling guilty about it. i really am starting to regret this. connie started snickering,  “your boyfriend’s waiting in the car.” he continued to torment me with kissing noises; but the mention of eren was all i needed to ditch my studies. 

“kay, fine, but we can’t stay long,” i heaved a sigh, showing dramatics to guilt trip sash and connie. jean gave a light hearted scoff, “what were you saying about finals?” rolling my eyes, i hit his shoulder hard as i quickly leapt up from my spot on the hard floor. 

i didn’t wait for any of them to catch up as i made my way down the apartment complex; running towards eren’s car as soon as i spotted it. throwing the car door open, i all but jumped in, skipping over the center console to be closer to eren. 

eren’s face lit up, eyes glinting. he pushed my body back slightly with the force of his own, cupping my face as he pressed a kiss into my lips. i melted into him easily; the feeling of eren comfortably familiar now. he opened his mouth wide, trying to suck as much of me in as he could. a smile tugged on my lips at his desperation, causing him to pull back. 

he scanned my face, then trailed down my body. making sure i was still in tact, “i missed you so much, pretty.” he pulled my face to him again, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. i couldn’t hold back my giggle; just happy to see him, “stop with the pet names,” i complained but the butterflies were strongly present in my stomach. i couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, either. 

a shuffling in the back seat caused my head to turn. i faced armin, features slightly scrunched in awkwardness. i looked away, hiding my embarrassment, “sorry armin, didn’t even know you were here,”

eren laughed viciously, “armin don’t pull the uncomfortable act, you were doing the same with annie.” armin’s face lit up a bright red, his eyes going wide. “what? no- i wasn’t!” he tripped over his words; trying to profess an innocence i didn’t have to see to know was false. “okay, freak your shit armin,” i butted in, watching his face turn impossibly redder. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

jean waved a bucket of fries in my face, “you sure you don’t want any?” i pulled my body away from the stench, further into eren's body. his legs closed around my torso, holding me tighter at my movement. “it’s really not funny,” i pushed jean’s hand away. armin and mikasa were huddled on a different set of blankets, exchanging a look at my refusal. 

it was moments like this that proved to me it was a good idea to run away with eren. our closest friends were already getting suspicious of my behavior. eren stroked through my hair with his fingers; futile as the wind kept blowing it in every direction. 

mikasa shivered, “why the hell did we go to the beach, anyway?” her teeth jittered lightly. i was thankful my body kept me from feeling most of the chill. eren pointed to the shoreline; where sasha and connie splashed each other in the ocean, “it was connie’s idea.”

“we need to stop listening to him,” armin's head shook. mikasa raised the bottle of vodka in her hand and took another shot from it. she extended it to me after. i stared at it for a few seconds before looking over at eren. he had a small smirk on his face; knowing i would never get drunk again. despite that fact, i raised it to my lips and took a long swallow from the bottle. 

the liquid was warm going down my throat. but only for a second as my body seemed to neutralize the heat. the normally sour sting of vodka was amplified; almost unbearable. i brought the bottle back down and scrunched my features together. armin laughed, “i’m not the only lightweight anymore, huh.”

skipping over eren, i passed it to jean, “can it, i’ll catch back up soon.” i tried to keep the frown from showing, knowing that i would never catch up. the taste was subsiding, and there were no other signs that i had even consumed alcohol. mikasa stood from their towel, grabbing it up as armin followed, “we’re gonna warm up by the cars,” she wrapped it around her body, hiding the shiver. 

“‘kay, we’ll wrap up here soon,” eren responded before tying his hands to my body again. jean laid back on his towel as his shivers subsided with the alcohol, “so you really can’t get drunk?” 

“nope,” i sighed my answer, leaning into eren further. 

“damn, that must really suck,” he smirked, exchanging a glance at me, then eren. connie and sasha had emerged from the water, their screams becoming less muffled as they approached. connie broke into a sprint, heading towards jean. he was already laughing in preparation, before shaking his body violently; dripping all of the ocean water on jean.  

jean jumped up immediately, “fucking asshole!” he yelled, already beginning to chase a fleeing connie. sasha giggled as she ran after them; arms held out to jean. my chest heaved with a laugh, bumping up against eren’s, “dumbasses.” 

laying my head flat on his chest, my phone ringing caused me to retract it right back. 

(xxx)-929-6785:

could we meet at the cafe?

my eyebrows furrowed, and i could feel eren lurch in curiosity behind me. “the fuck?” i muttered lightly, more to myself. i knew who that number belonged to; even if i didn’t have it saved anymore. why would she be texting me? 

“who is it?” eren laid his hand over my shoulder; to offer comfort, or draw me out of my thoughts, i wasn’t sure. “it’s historia?” i mumbled again in confusion, but eren heard it. i held my phone screen so he could read the message; i felt him stiffen slightly. “you should go,” he was confident, barely had to think about it. 

his grip on my shoulder squeezed in reassurance. i knew he was right; and i would regret not meeting with her. but i couldn’t help but feel like i was fifteen again; insecure and cleaning to the comfort of historia. no, i thought, i’m not doing it for that. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i stood outside of the coffee shop an hour later, hesitating to go in. eren waited in the parking lot, it would be easy enough to go back. i wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity, though, and that thought is what let me open the doors and walk in. 

her blonde hair was easy to spot, she looked over to me almost immediately. a hesitant smile was on her face, unsure if she should even be smiling. it was weird to see that expression directed towards me; it had been so long since we had really looked at each other. she didn’t have any coffee in front of her, just her hands that were intertwined with each other. 

i sat down opposite her, mimicking her facial expressions. just as unsure as she was. we made awkward eye contact again, “hey,” my tone was quiet, not sure of what to say. her lip twitched, “i wanted to reach out, when hitch told me about the break in, but.. it just felt false.”

historia seemed somewhat nervous, spouting words without really thinking them through. i didn’t know what to say, so i nodded instead. we both looked at each other uncomfortably again. it was hard to believe we had once been inseparable; now we passed for two strangers. “i, um- i’m really sorry,” she began again, stuttering over her words with uncertainty. 

“for what?” i couldn’t help but probe. there was a lot for us to apologize for, but i wondered what part of the story historia was even sorry for. maybe this was a bad idea. “for sleeping with porco,” her tone was finally definitive. definitely a bad idea. hearing those words caused me to pick at my cuticles. it didn’t bring me any relief, as my skin stitched itself together quickly. 

i sighed, “that’s really not what i need an apology for,” i said it quietly. suddenly, i was submissive in her presence. like i still had something to show for. each of us stood still, breathing audibly, “why now? we’ve been going to sina together for two years?”

she shrugged, somehow still making the action look delicate, “i heard you might be transferring. didn’t want a stone to go unturned.” i couldn’t gauge how that made me feel. i guess i should be happy she didn’t want me to leave without a resolution? after we move, i likely won’t see historia again. how does that make me feel? i still couldn’t decipher it. “how do you know?”

“it’s obvious when you pick up extra classes at the end of the year,” she humorlessly laughed. if i didn’t know her any better, i’d say she was hurt. it made it even more apparent that i shouldn’t mend the friendship we once had. “guess so,” shrugging, i looked away from her gaze. 

historia sucked in a breath, “but i am sorry.. for everything that went down between us, it’s all my fault.” it was easy to believe her; but i wasn’t naive. does this mean she truly did love me all those years? i couldn’t bring myself to ask. “it isn’t all your fault, but i forgive you,” i tried to keep my voice steady. 

hearing that from historia finally felt like a book closing. i felt like i could finally move on from that chapter in my life. i got up from the booth, ready to return back to my present life. “hey, y/n?” historia pulled me back in, still seated, “are we ever going to talk again?”

my steps faltered, the words sounding weird coming from her, “i don’t think so, no.” maybe if my life was different, i would run back to historia. instead, i took my leave to the exit, making my way back to eren. 

the cold air was comforting; i hadn’t realized how stuffy i had gotten in that booth. there was a small pressure gone from my back. the little bit of historia i had always carried around with me. i was happy for the closure; it made the move a definite choice. nothing was really keeping me here any longer. 

opening the door to eren’s car, i sat down, somewhat shell shocked. i was still absorbing the conversation; still taking all of it in. i was sure myself a year ago would be jumping for joy, and running back into hisotira’s comforting arms. “how’d it go?” eren broke the silence, tone walking on eggshells around me. i shrugged, unsure of how to unravel it to him. “that bad, huh?” he laughed through his nose. 

“it wasn’t bad, i just don’t know how to feel,” it was the truth. i couldn’t make sense of the emotions stirring in my stomach. “are you glad you listened to me?” he mocked, a goofy smile spreading on his face. i pushed his shoulder; which he didn’t budge from. 

i rolled my eyes, moving my neck with them, “i hate that you’re phrasing it like that, but yeah.” eren pulled the gear shift down into drive, “i have something that’ll brighten your mood.” his hand found mine, interlocking our fingers, and giving my palm a squeeze. “what?” i tried to fight the smile on my face. 

“it’s a surprise,” he dragged the words out, taunting me. “come on, just tell me!” eren turned his focus on navigating the road, already starting to tune my pleas out, “it’s not a telling-thing… trust me you’ll want to see it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the blindfold eren tied to me was beginning to irritate me. “is it ready yet?” i asked, although i could still hear his fingers clicking on the laptop. i heard him grunt, and i knew he was rolling his eyes, “i don’t understand how you have so little patience.” his hand pushed against my back, throwing me off-kilter. 

i groaned, “i don’t like being blindfolded.” eren’s breath grazed the side of my neck “really?” he whispered in my ear. a shiver went down my spine, and i clenched my legs together to hide the reaction before pushing him back with my elbow. “okay, fine. done,” he chuckled. 

eren pulled the blindfold off, tussling my hair in the process. i didn’t have time to fix it, eyes focusing on his laptop screen in front of me. “eren, what is that,” although, i already knew the answer. it was a cottage; similar to the cabin he took me to. it was quaint; but cozy. the exterior was covered in lush vines, and it was surrounded by what looked like acres of empty land. 

“it’s a house. our house actually,” i peeked over at him. he was already staring into my eyes, a satisfied smile on his face. “OUR house?” my tone was obnoxiously confused. it was obvious we would need a house.. but eren took the time to find one himself. a perfect one; and it would be ours. the feeling was so surreal i couldn’t begin to describe it. 

eren laughed at my reaction, wrapping his hands around my waist and fiddling with my skin underneath my clothes, “well, yeah as long as you like it.” i flipped through more of the pictures, looking at the interior. the rooms were old fashioned; down to the kitchen appliances. “i love it.” 

the photos showed a closer view of the land around it, “there’s enough room for farmland, so we can own animals.” the next was a picture of a small brown barn. i couldn’t keep the smile off my face imagining what life would be like there, “really?” i still couldn’t believe it. “mhm,” he mumbled, a goofy grin still glued to his face. 

“are there vampires in germany?” i hadn’t thought about it. i suddenly wondered if we were trading in grisha for a worse masochist. “i can only assume so. but grisha was too caught up with the vampires here that he never cared to venture out,” it didn’t bring me much comfort. 

i turned my body to face eren fully, “it’s perfect,” i whispered, bringing my face closer to his. our lips connected, and his grip on my waist tightened. he picked up my body to position myself on his lap; i opened my mouth allowing his tongue to enter mine.

my hands traced up his body, stopping to grip his moving jawline. his hands made their way up my shirt, two fingers squeezing my nipple. i pulled back from him, letting out a soft moan. the thought hit me then, “what if you get tired of me?” i couldn’t help but voice it. 

his features turned serious in an instant, “i won’t,” he answered immediately, and confidently. when i thought about it, i hadn’t known eren for that long. it doesn’t matter, my mind contradicted. “you can’t know that.”

“i can,” he pulled his hand from underneath my shirt, cupping my cheeks while squeezing them lightly. “you’ve been on my mind longer than you know.. i’m not going to get tired of you,” i wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but it warmed my heart anyway. like a natural reaction.

i nodded, “i’m more worried you’ll get tired of me,” eren laughed, squeezing my cheeks even harder, squishing my lips together. “impossible,” i giggled, shaking off his grip. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

spotify playlist

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager #eren yaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman

[apersonwholikeslotus]

“You”

Pairing: IreNor

warnings: some mentions of religion,

notes: IreNor my beloved ε>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No Sigurd paced the room, he played with a ring. Slipping it on and off his fingers though it really was too small to fit on any except his pinky.

 Molly had taken Ida and gone off citing going mushroom hunting. That had been early in the morning and now the noon sun shone above, they would be back soon he was sure. 

The ring was tucked away in pocket, he needed something to do to distract him. Though Sigurd had spent almost an hour circling their small corner of the village already, and hadn’t been able to find anything else that needed to be done. He considered going to meet with some of the leaders, they always had work for him. He could even offer to see if the neighbors needed help with anything. Both those took him away from the house though, and he wanted to be here when Molly and Ida returned. 

Going out to look for them himself was an option, he had been trying to keep Molly closer to the house anyway. He still remembered the boats returning, the men speaking of a new island. Larger than Ireland even, he got what he could, and went home that night excited to tell Molly about the discovery. 

He had been talking about details, including maybe joining a trip the next summer to go out there; if she was okay with him leaving for that long. Molly had never been one to stop Sigurd from going out with his people, or she had never voiced it bothering her at least. 

Her telling him she didn’t think he would want to go is what caught his attention. He had looked up from what he was doing, confused on what she meant. She had news that related to this new discovery as well. 

That was nearing six months ago, Molly had said herself she should be due any time now. It hadn’t stopped her from carrying on as usual though, and it worried him more and more as the days went on… maybe he should go out and look for her. 

He pulled the ring back out looking at it, he was brand new. He would have given Molly some of his mothers jewelry, he had gotten a third of it when his mother passed away. Molly however had insisted any of it be saved for when Ida grew older. That had left Sigurd digging up things from his summers of raiding, taking it to the smith and having some new things made. A ring to give her when he asked her to marry him, and a few other things, still hidden, for her to wear at the wedding. 

If only he could stop fretting about her answer and ask, he was almost sure she would marry him. But a small voice said she wouldn’t, mostly having fun pointing out what he had heard before. She is Catholic, and you’re pagan, who would marry you anyway? Sigurd had decided he didn’t care how their marriage was viewed, most assumed they were married already or simply didn’t care. But Molly might care about her church not recognizing it. Why go to the trouble? Just stay as we are. 

As fate would have it while worrying about how to ask, he heard footsteps outside. Ida was laughing, clearly running from her mother who couldn’t keep up in her current condition. He opened the door and stepped outside, Molly noticed him immediately but gestured for him to be quiet. 

“Mama!” The small girl complained, backing away from her mother, upset that she was no longer being chased “come get me” 

Molly was out of breath as it was, but exaggerated it even more; “I don’t think I can pet, I told you your sibling has decided to steal my breath” 

Ida pouted, “tell him to give it back” 

She laughed, “I wish it worked that way” 

Molly raised her brows at Sigurd, who had slowly been making his way up to their daughter unseen, while she was distracted. 

“So you can’t play anymore?” 

“Not right now,” she smiled, “but I think your father can”

Just as Molly said it a confused look crossed the girl's face, then she let out a yelp as Sigurd picked her up; “papa!” 

“Ja?” He moved holding her upside down, earning a look from Molly as the girl's braids dragged on the ground. Washing Ida’s hair was always such an ordeal. 

“Put me down!” She swung her arms a bit, trying to get out of his grasp.

He simply held her higher, taking away her option to put her hands on the ground. “I thought you wanted to be caught?”

“Not by you!” 

Molly leaned down as best she could to be at eye level with Ida, “then would you rather be let down?”

“Yes!” She swung her arms again, this time causing Sigurd to stumble a bit. 

She laughed, “you heard her Mo Mhuirnin” and winked at Sigurd, who sighed heavily. 

“I suppose” he let her go for just a moment, grabbing her again before she came close to hitting the ground. 

“Not like that” she held on tight to Sigurd’s neck once she was right side up again. 

“Ah” he set her down on her feet, “Like that?” 

Ida didn’t respond, instead sticking her tongue out at her father. Before noticing some other children run by playing, a look to her parents is all it took before she ran off as well joining them. 

Sigurd helped Molly back up, taking her arm in his. She scoffed lightly at the action, “I’m not that weak” 

“Yet you were struggling to get up,” he held her a little tighter, “and you’re still out of breath” 

“And who’s doing is that?” He rolled his eyes, even as she held his arm tighter as well, her free hand resting on her stomach. 

“Did you find anything?”

“No, we got distracted before even looking” a silence settled over the pair as they went into the house. Sitting down on one of the beds, Molly's head leaned against his shoulder.

They had been joking about needing to enjoy these moments before the house was filled with the sounds of the new baby. If he was anything like Ida they wouldn’t have peace again for years. 

The sun came in, yet a breeze kept everything cool inside the house. Sigurd thought of the ring in his pocket, of how he was sure he wanted to spend as many days as possible at Molly’s side. Right now could be perfect, yet the words to say still didn’t want to come to him. 

I love you, please marry me, I want to be with you. Nothing would fit in the scenario in his head, nothing seemed enough to explain how he felt. She noticed though, she always seemed to notice;

“Is there something on your mind?” Molly asked him quietly, as if trying to not disturb their silence. 

He thought about what to say, how to ask her to marry him right then. 

Instead he kissed her head and said, “You”

#hws ireland #hws norway #irenor #hetalia #hws Faroe #apersonwhowrites

[loafandfish]

Quick headcanon request: Philip, Thaddeus, Andrew, Simon Z, Big James, Nathaniel, and John reacting to you being in labor 😚 or if you don't want that, surprise me with a shirt and happy headcanon!

Philip: Not only is this man excellent with children, but he is also an amazing person to have by your side. At least for the first half. He’d be very similar to Thaddeus but with more energy and some jokes sprinkled on every so often. As the pain gets worse for you, his anxiety starts to settle in. He’d wonder if you were okay and if this was normal? What if it isn’t? Ah yes, cue the overthinking. But his mood swing wouldn’t keep him from giving you all the kisses you wanted.

Thaddeus: Strangely enough I headcanon he grew up in a house of older sisters who all have kids, so he knows more than most men. He’d whisper comforting words, hold your hand, press a cold cloth to your head, literally whatever you needed. Imagine the perfect man in a situation like this. That’s him. That’s Thaddeus. He’d even sing to you if you wanted him to. I have no idea if he can sing but he’d do it in a heartbeat. Anything to make this experience as comfortable as possible for you, he’d already be doing.

Andrew: Ohhhhh boy Andrew would be freaking out more than you. He’d be right by your side the entire time, refusing to leave. Still, you’d have to stay strong for him or else he might faint. Man’s got a bad case of the nervous bouncy leg. Also pacing. A lot of pacing. He’d be offering you water and food more often than you needed it. He just had to make sure that you and the baby would be alright. Oh there would be many tears. Stressed out tears, happy tears, all kinds of tears. When it’s over and you go home with your new child, get ready to be snuggled for the next week.

Simon Z: Calm and collected as per usual. I mean the guy was a literal Zealot so I think he can handle almost anything without too many nerves. He’d be more clingy that usual during the process and his already overprotective nature will be multiplied. Midwife says he should wait outside? Haha absolutely not, he is not moving from your bedside. Zee isn’t a physical touch kind of guy but the second your in pain it suddenly becomes his love language. Teaching your hair behind your ears, forehead kisses, just resting his head next to yours. He is clingy now.

Big James: You’re probably with Salome when it happens and she immediately calls for James, accidentally alerting the whole family. Zebedee and John get there, but for a moment James is nowhere to be found. Suddenly, the door is nearly blown of his hinges and without stopping, James picks you up and runs you to the nearest person who can help. If the door is locked he will break it down. Unlike most people, there’s no room for nervousness in his excited state. He’s bounding off the walls like a child who ate too much sugar.

Nathaniel: He would be cool and collected on the outside, but freaking out on the inside. Also excited. VERY excited. He’s been waiting for a child for 9 months, so he’s probably a tad bit impatient to finally meet his kid. He’d promise to finally build that dream home you two wanted, describing it in detail to you to distract you. This child was going to grow up in the most beautiful place. The first thing he would say when he realizes what’s happening would probably be “Finally! It took long enough.”

John: He gets excited, then panics, then gets excited again. Either you or Salome will have to slap him out of his freakout session. He’d be holding your hand for the whole time, and probably have to bite his lip from screaming when you squeeze his hand too tightly. Yeah he’d definitely cry a bit. Both out of happiness and nerves which he isn’t as good as concealing as James is. Also John would have to help the midwife kick his family out of the room. Bro Salome and Zebedee just want grandkids so bad.

#the chosen #the chosen headcanons #the chosen x reader #the chosen andrew #the chosen philip #the chosen thaddeus #the chosen nathaniel #the chosen john #the chosen big James #the chosen Simon z

[lilyblossom-art]

Hey there! This is something very different from what I usually do. Tryna keep this short tho, so!

I wrote something (a loz fanfic?) and I wanna give a little context, so first off

Some background info you might need is that Link was adopted by Ganondorf and is therefore the Gerudo Prince and that's pretty much it. Oh and this is kind of a Ravioli thing because of course it is so there's that. It's pretty platonic though, i would say. Idk maybe not. I can't help myself-

As for warnings, ig there's a bit of dark humor? Not sure if you can call it that but whatever. There's also some mentions about um, killing and/or hurting people but nothing graphic in any way. If you notice anything that I should make a warning for, please let me know!

(1449 words)

---

The air in the open throne room was so tense, it felt like it was about to snap.

The Gerudo King was currently staring daggers into Ravio, who was standing just ever so slightly behind his friend. Said boy had managed to bring a decent amount of distance between the Gerudo and the Lolian. Ravio knew all too well that he was the only reason he hadn't yet been cut open by the king's blades, which said man was gripping tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white.

Cold sweat was running down his neck, but he knew it wasn't because of the scorching heat of the desert.

Ganondorf took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his teeth, redirecting his gaze at the blonde, who stood protectively infront of the black haired intruder.

How the Gerudo Prince didn't even flinch at that glare was beyond Ravio, even so, blue eyes stared right back into golden ones, showing no sign of intimidation.

As per their king's command, all soldiers had left the room several moments ago, leaving the three men by themselves. Ravio had tried to offer an explanation, which, considering the current situation, didn't seem to have helped at all. He should have figured as much, seeing how, no matter what he would say, he was still an intruder in this town.

Ravio noticed his friend's shoulders relax and the grip on his weapon loosening slightly. Despite there being no visible change in the Gerudo King's state.

The Lolian jumped when he suddenly heard Ganondorf speak.

"Link.", his voice was deep and commanding, and at least as sharp as his blades.

Link nodded and sheathed his scimitar, before promptly grabbing Ravio's wrist and making for the exit of the hall.

Instead of descending the stairs leading into the town, they turned right and began heading up a set of stairs winding along the outside wall of the building.

Despite the sun burning on his skin, Ravio felt relieved to finally be outside.

"Where are we going?", he struggled to keep up with Link's pace, almost tripping when he decided to speak up.

"To my room.", Link didn't wait for Ravio to ask his next question. "He needs time to think and we're not to leave this building."

"So suspicious ol' me is allowed to be alone in a room with the Gerudo Prince?", he said with a grin, earning him a chuckle from Link. "Oh, but what if something were to happen to the king's most precious son?", he placed the back of his free hand on his forehead, almost tripping again in the process. "Shouldn't there be at least ten guards to ensure his safety?"

He had to admit though, that it wasn't like he'd have had a chance against Link, which his friend was either too polite, or too distracted to tease him with, as he would've had any other day.

They reached the next floor and headed towards a grand door, which Ravio assumed would lead them to Link's room.

Once inside, Link let go of Ravio's wrist and walked toward the bed standing in the center of the room. Nearly instantly he collapsed onto it and rolled onto his back, giving a long sigh.

Ravio slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, the tenseness from earlier returning to his body. He began stretching his arms in front of him. "So, how's it looking for me?", he tried to sound casual, but it was obvious that he was still on edge.

Link closed his eyes and hummed in response. "I guess there's a pretty big chance your head gets chopped off.", the boy did a significantly better job at feigning nonchalance, despite what he had just said.

However, his tone of voice did not keep Ravio from shuddering at his blunt words.

As if to sense his distress, Link's eyes opened again to look at his friend. The way his head was tugged between his shoulders made him wish he could take his words back. "Don't worry, you know I won't let that happen.", Link tried to reassure him. "At least not before my own head drops to the floor.", he added.

Ravio did give a little laugh at that, albeit a quiet one. He relaxed a bit, leaning back on his hands.

The blonde sighed again. "I definetly don't share his opinions- or rather suspicions- when it comes to you, but I can't blame him either.", he had shut his eyes again and intertwined his fingers underneath his head.

"He's trying to protect his people. You know, the Gerudo- don't have many allies.", he paused for a moment. "I should honestly be doing the same. But look at me, sneaking an outsider into the town. He must be very proud.", he laughed. There wasn't a hint of bitterness in his voice, he didn't regret the stunt they had pulled one bit.

They might even have gotten away with it, if they hadn't been so careless. The way that they managed to get themselves caught was honestly laughable, Link had to bite back a grin thinking about it.

Link knew the schedule of every single soldier by heart, but he hadn't paid attention to the numerous children roaming the streets. The poor little girl didn't even mean to alarm any soldiers with her shouting. She didn't even pay Ravio any mind at all, she had just been excited about seeing the prince.

The Lolian brought a hand to the back of his neck. "If it helps in any way.. the faraway kingdom I said I was from, isn't just far away, it's in a completely different world. Here.", he removed a bracelet from his left wrist and turned around to show his friend. "This is the only way, at least that we know of, to travel between the worlds."

Link reached out for the bracelet, which Ravio placed into his palm. The blonde removed his left hand from underneath his head as well to inspect the item more closely, holding it just above his face.

Ravio's hand returned to scratch the back of his neck. "So um, it's not like an army would arrive at your doorstep or anything of the like."

Link silently resumed his inspection. The bracelet was made of gold-like material and adorned with a purple gemstone. A soft light was pulsating from within, barely noticeable. He had been curious about the thing for a while now, but had never asked about it. He decided not to ask about this 'faraway kingdom' either, at least for now.

"To be honest,", he placed the bracelet beside Ravio, who immediately put it back on his wrist. "I can really only see two outcomes from this."

Ravio glanced over his right shoulder, waiting for his friend to continue.

"Either, as I've already mentioned, you're gonna be executed, or you can never leave again- at least not without supervision.", Link didn't think Ganondorf would ever let the Lolian leave the town, supervised or not, but he tried not to freak his friend out again. How succesful he was in soothing him with those words, was pretty questionable though.

"Well I really hope there's gonna be a secret third outcome.", Ravio went back to staring at the floor. He didn't know if he should feel calmed or unsettled by Link's indifference about the matter.

"Whatever the case, we'll manage to find a way somehow.", Link rolled onto his side, his long, braided hair was already loosening from lying on the bed.

He reached out to tug at Ravio's arm. "Now come here."

He continued gently pulling at the Lolian's arm until he too, lied down on the bed, back facing the blonde. Link scooted a little closer to place his arm over his side, willing the tenseness to go away.

"Just relax a bit. There's nothing we can do to influence his choice at this point. I doubt your trinket is going to offer him any comfort in the matter."

He definitely wouldn't take the Lolian's word on it being the only way, or the only one of its kind. That'd be too great a risk, which Link knew the Gerudo wouldn't take.

Ravio responded with a hum that turned into a long sigh. He tried to focus on Link's slow and steady breathing. Copying the rythm, he closed his eyes and let himself calm down.

He knew Link had been honest when he had said that he wouldn't let anything happen to him, or when he had said that they would find a way. They had managed to get out of pretty tight situations in the past, why would this one be any different?

---

Alrighty fkfkggk

I don't write as much as I draw and most of the experience I have in writing is in a different language so it's idk I can't even tell if it's good or bad haha

Not sure if this being like, a scene that clearly belongs in the middle of a larger story is off-putting or not. I don't have any more content for this, I just came up with this one scene and ig I was in the mood to write something. But I do really like this world so far i dunno👀

I could go on and on about everything that I'm unsure about but I better not do that and just post the damned thing-

#I don't really know how to tag this #fanfic #au #tw dark humor #tw mentions of violence #i think that's good? #the legend of zelda #Ravio #Link #Ganondorf #Gerudo #Gerudo Prince Link #ravioli #raviolink #Ik that the word 'lolian' is like #a fanon thing but i used it anyway #at least i think it's not canon?

[thethumpergod]

Getting to know you! (Lambert X Aiden Modern AU)

It was three days later.

The swelling on his nose eased up quickly, but it still stung like a bitch. He was rooting around for some food when he noticed that a piece of paper next to the pile of documents for work remained on the kitchen table. Lambert couldn’t bring himself to write back or say hello. He wasn’t chickening out or anything. He didn’t know what to say. Plus, he had better things to do. He needed to find decorations for his apartment. He just enjoyed his alone time and still had countless things on his list to do… Yeah.

Lambert had nothing to be nervous about. He is just taking his time to come up with a seamless way to befriend his neighbor. It was sparing Aiden, so he didn’t have to suffer whatever dumb things fell out of his mouth. He embarrassed himself in front of the man; he wanted at least some of his respect back.

It's late in the afternoon, and the sun is casting shadows on the roads. The sky had an orange hue, leaving a shine on anything reflective. Lambert had an afternoon to enjoy by himself; Aiden could wait. He finished eating the takeout from two days ago and then went to find running shoes.

When he finally got out the door, he checked the hall for any sign of the man. The coast was clear. Lambert didn’t need any distractions while he went on his jog. He steps down the stairs and heads in the direction of the park.

Some people around the complex walked their dogs, chatted with others, or took out the trash. A few people waved at him, stopping for a second to look at his nose. Some gave him an annoyed look. Perhaps he wasn't as quiet as he should have been on his way home drunk.

"Neighbor!"

Lambert nearly busted his face on the sidewalk as he halted. He could see Aiden jogging up to meet with him. The man wore a sleeveless hoodie, which showed off way more arm than was needed. His pants were worse; they were a crime. The inky workout pants looked tight enough to be a second skin. "Tried to get into someone else’s house?" Aiden observed him, with an amused tone.

"No. Work mishap," Lambert said, snorting.

"Oh." Aiden hums. "Can I join you?"

Lambert decides to bite the bullet and nods. He might as well get used to the guy who lives across the hall from him.

"Are you new to town? I haven’t seen you before." Aiden says as he begins pacing beside him, just close enough to get a good look at his face. His neighbor was taller than him by maybe two or three inches but had a slimmer build.

"I’ve lived in the town before, but I’ve never hung around this part." Lambert finally spoke as the silence became too noticeable.

"I could show you around if you want. There are some great spots around town," Aiden suggested. "What do you like?"

"Normally I go to the pub down the road. I usually am out at night because of my job." Lambert looks over at Aiden to see his eyebrows scrunched in what looks like concern. Shit, the last time Aiden saw him, he was drunk as all hell. He doesn't want his fucking neighbor to think he has a problem. "But, uh, I guess I could try something else."

Aiden smiled softly and then said, "Hm. There is this café called The House of Cats, which I'm a fan of. It’s south of the apartments, going into downtown."

"Yeah, that sounds great," Lambert lied. He only ever went to those on dates or when Ciri dragged him into one. The coffee menus at those kinds of places were overly complicated and, frankly, overpriced. If pretending to like them saves him from embarrassing himself, then he’ll take it.

"They have a frappe I would kill for." The man chatters on, not noticing the other's awkwardness. Lambert praises every god he can think of for that. The man starts going on about the café, telling him his favorite things on the menu. Lambert is half listening to his rambling. "It's an excellent place to socialize. I'm friends with the owners as well." Aiden pauses for a moment, then looks at him. "I realize I don't know your name."

"I’m Lambert. Is the café sponsoring you or something?"

The man looks down at him with a raised brow, then laughs, "I do owe Dragonfly some money from a bet, but I'm not sponsored." Aiden gestured to him. "Oh, where are my manners? Tell me about yourself!"

"Shit. I, uh, have a niece and two brothers."

"Hm, I was raised with my little brother by my stepdad," he says with a wide smile. "I also have a lot of people I'm close with around town."

"I don't know too many people around here." Lambert looked ahead of himself, counting how many traffic lights he could find as they continued walking.

"The café has plenty of nice people; maybe you could make a friend or two," Aiden replied, nearly hopping on his feet.

"Wait. This a cult or some shit, isn’t it?"

"Ha. You sure like to swear."

Lambert doesn't check because he knows the guy still has a smirk on his face. He snickers at that. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was in the presence of royalty. Should I bow or something?"

Aiden continued to look at him, the smugness somehow becoming more apparent. "You're normally prickly, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm not offended by your cursing; it's just something I noticed," he said, tossing him a playful wink.

Lambert's eyes drifted wordlessly to the taller man. He made around five different facial expressions before trying to settle back into forced nonchalance. He could feel the heat spreading across his face, for whatever reason. The other man walked beside him, seeming comfortable in the new silence.

Okay, so his neighbor is teasing him; there’s no reason to get bothered by that. He took another slow breath, reminding himself of his goal. He is trying to make a friend. He can do this. "Where did you learn to fight?"

"I got bullied a lot as a kid for being small, so my stepdad made me take kickboxing classes. I did that from middle school to college."

"That explains it."

"Yeah," he snorts.

"You have a good kick; I thought my back was going to break."

Aiden smiles and says, "I may go a little too hard on leg day."

"I know you can see it," Lambert said impulsively. Shit! Fuck, why did he say that!

The man giggles and then eyes the path. He could see the multicolored cement that served as the foundation of the playground ahead.

They were already at the park nearby; the jog had gone by faster than he thought. Turning on his feet, he paces back to the apartments, and Aiden tracks along.

"You got a solid hit in with that knee to my gut," Aiden says, watching the stores as they passed by.

"Yeah, thanks." Lambert puffed his chest out. Even when he was shitfaced, he could get Aiden down a little.

"You must work out a lot too," Aiden says, glancing over at him.

"Right, right. Thanks." He nearly choked at that.

There was a ringing sound, and Aiden fished in his hoodie pocket. He sighs and then answers his phone.

"Yes, I thought I sent it last night. Sigh—I'll check to see if there's another way to send that report."

"Work?" Lambert replied gruffly.

"Yeah, it was nice to jog with you, but my coworker would strangle me if I don't get my reports in," Aiden says as he speeds up ahead of him, waving as he runs. "I hope your nose heals! It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah, see you!"

Before he knew it, Aiden was gone.

Lambert shook his head. He's never had a neighbor invite him to a café before. He could handle this; Lambert can have a friendship with the guy across the hall. Why is he worried? He knows how to fucking make friends! He just needs to be nice...

Lambert made his way up the stairs, counting his steps. He's sure he burned more calories than necessary. His legs wanted to give out by now, turning into jelly from overuse. He hunts in his pocket, finding his keys, which thank fuck, are there. Opening the door, he saw a piece of paper pushed under it.

"I swear this better not be a complaint or some shit already!" he said to himself. He grunted, picking up the letter. It reads,

"Hey, it's me again! Thanks for the run and all. If you're down for the café or hanging out, here's my number. - Aiden"

Lambert nearly high-fives himself; he didn't fuck up that bad! He was a few steps closer to making a friend. Grabbing water from the barren fridge, he paces around. He needed to figure out when to text him. Should he wait a few days to appear relaxed? What time of day should he text? Does he like calls? Lambert groans and lets himself fall onto the couch.

He needs something to keep his mind off this stuff—maybe a hobby? Eskel recused animals, and Geralt had the weird shit he liked...

Rarely did he go out to do anything that wasn't repairing stuff, getting in trouble, working, or drinking. When it happened, it was usually stuff involving Ciri or helping his brothers with something stupid, like when he had to pick Eskel up after the dude woke up naked in the woods. There was a time when Ciri and he went to the park, trying to catch a duck. To his shock, the kid did it. She wanted to keep it, and Yen wanted to murder Lambert. Good times.

The apartment was quiet. There were still boxes that needed to be unpacked. In all honesty, the place was desolate. Lambert wasn't good at decorating, not like his brothers. He would ask Yen, but he would rather not hear her commentary. He didn't even know where to start. Maybe posters? Nah, that’s not it either.

It takes him an hour to unpack the rest of the boxes. It was mainly kitchen items and clothes for the winter. Again, Lambert had nothing to do.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone. Lambert grabs the paper and starts messaging Aiden.

It took a while before Lambert finally sent the message.

- Hey, it's Lambert.

#the witcher #art #artists on tumblr #aiden the witcher #lambert #aiden x lambert #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

[contreparry]

happy friday and dadwc Ann!! A prompt for you: “Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—”

Sure thing! Here's some Surana/Zevran for @dadrunkwriting!

Bran didn’t often invite people to his apartment. It was so small, after all, with barely enough space for one person and a dog. He could cross his kitchenette in three steps, his bathroom sink dripped constantly, his bed was practically inside his closet, and his balcony was only good for standing on. But it was his apartment, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, and Bran guarded his privacy jealously.

Inviting Zevran Arainai back to his place to dry up should have rubbed him the wrong way, like a spell’s blowback, yet Bran only felt delight course through his blood. He smiled when Barkspawn danced around their feet with pure doggy joy, and something cracked within his chest when Zevran crouched down and murmured sweetly to the mabari.

“Ferocious,” Zevran crooned as Barkspawn melted into the curve of Zevran’s palm and Bran melted in turn. “You’ll keep your friend safe, won’t you, you brave warrior?”

And that was when Bran realized what this moment was. This was one of those soft moments, the sugary sweet romantic comedy pap that Bran hated (thought he hated). His hallway light cast a warm, hazy glow in the crowded entrance, Zevran’s golden hair clung to the curve of his bronze cheek, and Bran could hardly breathe from the exertion of their run and the anticipation of what might come-

Romance didn’t happen for people like him. He was used to being on his own, used to drifting from place to place and putting his nose to the grindstone to survive. Do this for a better future, he’d tell himself when he downed another bitter instant coffee and studied ancient texts that smelled of mold and half-forgotten knowledge. This won’t last forever, he promised himself when he stayed up late writing papers. I don’t need anyone else, he’d mutter into the darkness when he collapsed into bed. He was all the company he required, all the company he ever had, but now-

But now there was Zevran: persistent, sly Zevran who was made of secrets. And despite his certainty that he needed no one else, Bran found that Zevran’s presence was a welcome change of pace. He might have once called it a distraction, first in a derogatory fashion then as an amusement, but now Zevran was a… a puzzle. A puzzle Bran found he wanted to solve, bit by frustrating bit. Even now as Zevran shook his wet golden hair out of his face and scratched behind Barkspawn’s ears, a relaxed smile was painted on his handsome face. It was almost as if Zevran... enjoyed being here, soaked from rainwater and exhausted as he pet Bran’s dog and received slobber on his hands in trade.

“I can take your coat. And shoes,” Bran offered. “Least I can do.” He was the one who wanted to walk back to his apartment instead of taking Zevran up on his offer to call (and pay!) for a cab. It was a good walk until the heavens split open and rain fell down in literal buckets, and they beat a hasty retreat to Bran’s apartment. So here they were, shadowing the doorway of his apartment, their two bodies crowding the narrow entrance and a thousand words clogging up Bran’s throat.

"I did not think our evening would end so quickly," Zevran said softly. “I hoped we could spend more time together.” He shrugged his dark jacket off and hung it up on the coat hook by the front door, his every moment a study in elegance.

“The rain was a surprise,” Bran replied. “Sorry about your clothes. And shoes.” He hadn’t expected that they’d have to wade through a puddle that went up to their calves when they crossed the street. Those expensive shoes were probably ruined now. Yet Zevran only shrugged. Bran shifted his weight as he shrugged off his own thin jacket and tossed it onto the cheap bench he stuffed into the hallway. It wobbled on its spindly metal legs when the lump of fabric landed on the plastic seat. The only sounds were the rain, Barkspawn’s panting, and the occasional drip, drip, drip of water against linoleum.

“I can… that is, you can borrow some of my things,” Bran offered, and he hoped that the driers in the laundry room basement weren’t broken again. And that he had the money to pay for it. And that Zevran wasn’t wearing something that was dry-clean only.

“It will dry, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Zevran said, and he turned, shifted weight, and suddenly the hallway felt so much smaller than it was. “Your hair, though…”

“Mmm?” Bran froze when warm fingers combed through his damp hair. He turned towards Zevran, who was staring down at him. His eyes were hooded. He wasn’t smiling, but looking at him as if he, Bran Surana, was the only thing he cared to look at. As if he was the one thing that mattered.

No one ever looked at him like that before.

“Your hair is falling in your eyes, did you know that?” Zevran murmured, and he reached out and plucked a stray lock of wet hair out of Bran’s eyes. “Here, let me-“ Zevran tucked the errant tendril behind Bran’s ear, and the side of his hand brushed against the sensitive cartilage.

“It’s- my hair’s always in my eyes,” Bran mumbled. Zevran continued to look at him, his expression strangely intent as he softly brushed aside his hair.

“A shame,” Zevran replied. “You have lovely eyes.” Zevran said something like that before when they first met. Bran dismissed it as a cheesy pick-up line then, when Zevran was all false smiles and smooth talk. But here in his tiny apartment, both of them soaked to the skin by the rain and panting from the exertion of their run, Zevran wasn’t smiling. His expression was almost contemplative, as if he was analyzing a component of an alchemical formula and trying to figure out what made it- what made Bran- work.

Puzzles again. Maybe Bran was as strange and cryptic to Zevran as Zevran was to him. Maybe they both enjoyed the work of piecing the other together, bit by bit. Maybe this was what all the romances talked about when they said that love was finding your other half.

Bran reached out, hand slightly trembling, and cupped Zevran’s cheek. It fit in the curve of his palm like it was supposed to, like his hand was made to cradle pretty things. Zevran finally (finally!) smiled a small, tired smile.

“I think…” Bran choked out the words from a dry throat. “I think you’re the only one who notices. Or thinks that.”

“My gain, then,” Zevran replied without his usual cheekiness, and he was suddenly there, their bodies snuggly pressed together, Bran’s hands trapped between them as Zevran pulled him close and turned his head. Warm breath ghosted over Bran’s rain-chilled face, his cheeks, his mouth, and then-

Bran kissed Zevran, clumsy and uncertain and off-center. But he kissed him regardless, his heart racing wildly in his chest as his brain fizzled into static, into the steady pitter-patter of rain on a rooftop, to the gentle brush of fabric against fabric as Zevran tilted his face, readjusted their angle, exhaled and breathed life and warmth into Bran’s cold body. Bran’s hands twisted into the soft cotton of Zevran’s doubtlessly expensive shirt as he followed Zevran’s lead and gave him everything, no matter how clumsy, uncertain, and off-center it was.

When Zevran pulled away from him it was as if an age passed in that hallway, an age and a moment all at once. Bran blinked, as if to clear his vision, but the world was unstable. He was unstable.

“Lunch tomorrow?” Zevran suggested softly, his hands returning to Bran’s hair so he could comb through it with those elegant, dexterous fingers. He was smiling again, teeth bright in the half-light of the hallway.

“Uh... huh,” Bran mumbled. “That... yes. Lunch.” Maybe this was all a hallucination brought on by a lack of sleep. He’d wake up tomorrow and this date, this kiss, would all have been a dream brought on by subconscious longing and exhaustion. It made sense. Why would Zevran, beautiful, capable, clever Zevran, ever look at Bran? Ever continue to look at Bran? A friendship was enough, and Bran knew better than to be greedy- and Zevran kissed him against, crowding him until his back was against the wall and his heart was echoing Zevran’s own heartbeat. Or was it the other way around? He couldn’t imagine Zevran’s heart racing the way his was.

“Good. Go warm up, mi amor. You’re shivering,” Zevran murmured, and he kissed him again. And again. He kissed like it was as easy as breathing. Bran fumbled to match his pace until Zevran pulled away once more and stepped back. His shirt (wrinkled, wrecked, as wound up as Bran felt) slipped out of Bran’s nerveless, numb hands, and Zevran smiled as if it hurt to put distance between them, all bared teeth and caution.

“Goodnight,” he finally said. “Until tomorrow.”

“Night,” Bran said, and then Zevran was gone into the night, leaving nothing but the spicy scent of his cologne and the memory of his touch behind. Bran slumped against the wall and slid down until he sat, knees folded up to his chest, in the hallway. Barkspawn snuffled curiously at his arm.

“I... think I made a mistake,” Bran informed the hound. “I must have, considering how he left.” Bran stared blankly ahead at the mass of black wool fabric that hung from the hook- Zevran’s coat. He bolted so quickly he forgot his coat. Bran shakily got to his feet and brushed his fingers over the lapel, as if to assure himself that it really was there.

“Guess I’ll bring you tomorrow. For lunch,” Bran mumbled, and he kicked off his boots. Shower. Get ready for bed. Sleep. Maybe by tomorrow he would untangle this mess of feelings and be refreshed for whatever the day (and Zevran) brought him.

#my writing #da drunk writing circle

[tiredassmage]

wip wednesday!

It happens to be Wednesday! And I happened to be up later than planned in some weird form of tomorrow denialism performed in Google Docs.

I have like... two versions of this piece that I’m jumping between atm and I have no idea which one I’ll end up keeping; the base idea is the same, just involving two different companions, so ideally, whichever doesn’t happen will just happen at a different time and also assuming I decide to keep it happening in either case, but anyway xD That's why it's a wip, Dot.

It’s SWTOR! (ofc). Loosely set around 7.1 events after a particular conversation on the Fleet, but doesn’t particularly detail anything so spoilers kinda and but mostly not // Gen rating, light swearing // feat. Tyr/my Imp Agent (naturally) & my brainrot about Tyr/Theron/Malavai, but this one is  primarily a conversation between Malavai & Tyr.

[brief context bc I apparently can't write chronologically to save my life; this is obvs set after my rewrite of Iokath where Tyr recruits Quinn to the Alliance despite siding with the Republic, and... sometime between then and now (undetermined don't look at me), Tyr brings him into confidence about the double agent plot and also 3 pretty boys all catching feelings for each other bc I love all of them, that's really how we ended up in this mess. Anyway, enjoy!

“Commander.” The prim, yet gentle greeting drew Tyr out of the haze beginning to descend upon his mind as his fingers danced over the controls. Was it time already?

He looked over his shoulder to find Malavai attentively waiting for him, as always, and a fond smile slipped across his lips easily - as instinctive as the systems checks he’d been running, supposedly in anticipation of this moment to make the Major’s job easier, but…

“Apologies,” Tyr murmured, “I hadn’t heard you coming.”

A slight frown pulled at Malavai’s lips as he joined him on the bridge. “Love, if I may…” His hand rested first on Tyr’s shoulder as the Commander finished the check he’d been in the middle of, rubbing a few circles before he reached for the back of the Commander’s neck, seeking out the tension doubtlessly built there.

Tyr sighed almost instantly - and nearly involuntarily. Malavai’s head tilted in the corner of his vision, but Tyr only closed his eyes and tried to ignore the inevitable for a moment longer. The Major’s careful ministrations were a welcome warmth and distraction.

“You should get some rest,” Quinn counseled quietly, “It’s time for a shift change. And you’ve barely slept since we left Vaiken, love…”

Tyr’s shoulders sagged with a faint groan. “That obvious, is it..?”

A half-smile quirked the corner of Malavai’s mouth. “With all due respect, love, it is much easier when we all share quarters.” The expression didn’t last long, however. Quinn had never been much for sugarcoating things.

“Commander…” Tyr’s teeth dug at the inside of his lip as Malavai’s hands fell away, returning to that formal stance of a soldier. “I feel I must express some concern… You’ve barely loosened up since we departed the Fleet. You simply cannot maintain this schedule.”

“Always to the point, Major,” Tyr murmured as he bowed his head.

Malavai’s small smile was almost apologetic. “In my concern for you, I… find it most prudent to be blunt,” he replied. “You spies have a way of wiggling out of my care otherwise.”

A faint breath of a chuckle tumbled from Tyr’s lungs. “You know what they say about old habits…”

“I do.” Malavai gestured to the seats behind them. “If you’re offering me the pleasure of your company, you might at least consider your own comfort, love.”

Tyr rolled his eyes fondly. “Alright, you win this round, Malavai.”

“Don’t act like you’ve gotten off easy.” Malavai’s eyes quickly scanned a few of the displays to assure that their flight would remain largely uneventful. “You’ve still yet to admit what has been keeping you up. You were pacing last cycle.”

“Sorry,” Tyr muttered as he sank further into his seat. He didn’t want to admit it, but exhaustion was beginning to wear on him. He briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t keep you up, did I?”

“No,” Quinn assured with another small smile, “Theron is a gifted and persistent cuddler. I slept quite well, actually.” He carefully narrowed his eyes at Tyr’s tired, fond smile. “Tyr…”

The Commander blinked at the shift in his lover’s voice - it dropped lower as the Major fixed him in a careful gaze, brow knitting over his vibrant blue eyes.

Both Theron and Malavai had both learned quickly that it captured his attention and eased him. Just as Lana’s irritated stubbornness could coax him, so, too, could their gentle insistence. Both had their strengths, time, and place to be employed.

“You made me a promise,” Malavai reminded him, taking one of his lover’s hands carefully in one of his own to brush his fingers carefully over his knuckles. “When we agreed to this, I promised to be there for you and walk this path with you. I cannot do that unless you allow me to, Tyr.”

“I know,” Tyr breathed softly. He gently gripped Malavai’s hand back as he watched his lover’s fingers work. “I guess I just… We’re all in over our heads.., aren’t we..?”

Malavai sighed quietly. “You should have told us your plans with Malgus. I would have gone with you.”

An amused puff of breath loosed from the Commander’s lungs. “All three of you have said that, you know? Which of you was going to mind the ship?”

Quinn clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You know the Fleet staff is more than capable, love,” he chided, though the mild reprimand was somewhat betrayed by the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Lana and I at least enjoy assumed clearance.”

“Good. I won’t have to pick any fights with the Dark Council again.”

Malavai narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d accuse you of putting me in an early grave,” he scolded dryly. He leveled a stern gaze on his lover once more. They could only keep bantering around the matter for so long.

Malavai’s fingers had stilled over his hand and his grip had tightened. “Do you have any new concerns?”

Tyr shook his head. His free hand rose to rub over his chin. “No.” The gentle hum of the ship was all that filled his following silence for a few moments as his gaze drifted over the consoles. “I’m just… hell, I don’t know… getting too old for all this shit,” he muttered.

Malavai frowned down at their entwined hands. One might have been inclined to instinctively differ with someone they loved, but… none of them were quite ‘average’ in that respect.

“Do you regret it, Tyr..?” he asked quietly.

The Commander and ex-Cipher was silent for another long moment. “No.” Tyr rolled his jaw before he finally looked back at his lover. “May I speak frankly with you, Major..?”

He’d lowered his voice, reverted once more to the comforting distance of professionalism afforded by their titles. It’d helped Quinn find his footing in the Alliance - something grounding and familiar and unchanging, unlike so much else in the last several years.

“Always, Commander.”

“I’d burn the Empire down to the foundations, Quinn. All of it. Not for the Alliance, not for the Republic… Just… me."

#dot words #swtor fanfiction #swtor #imperial agent #ch: tyr #malavai quinn #tyr x theron x malavai #constantly going between 'my playground my rules' and 'what are you doing' at myself #but it keeps being fun so here we continue to be skfndksfnsl

[ducknotinarow]

For @aflockoffeathers

(I worte a situation in discord about this before but I decided to add on to it uwu)

"Damn it" Richard said looking at his phone after it had dried off it wouldn't turn on, the fear from speaking about a replacement before meant the eagle would be woth out it for the rest of Baileys time away on the latest work trip they needed to go out for. Sure land lines existed but it meant Richard wouldn't be able to send them any pictures.

His oh look how fantastic and handsome and drop dead gorgeous I am selfish that he sent Bailey everyday. Just incase the rooster forgit of course. That put a damper on his mood, he had emailed his husband of the likely hood so he didn't need to worry about that he'll just call them tonight once Bailey is back at his hotel room.

"Might be for the best" he said to his reflection now as he was looking himself over "I didn't even noticed those, Fuckers always sneak in like this." He said looking at the silver that had weaved into his wonderfuly ebony black hair. "Least he can't tease me over them. I'll pick up some dye later." Running his hand through his hair checking the damage to see if root touch up would be all he needed over a whole box of dye.

Vainty was a surely his sin all his worth set on to the superficial...Bailey may tease but. His eyes widen a bit as he step back fuck what was he thinking? Was he seriously considering....not dying the grey over? Yes, apperently!?! Why in the fuck was he even entertaining this idea? Something Bailey said maybe about how he'll look good with grey hairs even. Richard chewed the thiught over more tugging out a strand of silver, of cross the myth that will make more grow in its place crossed his mind. Turning it in his fringers. "God I'm stupid for this."

Even once the phone was repaired Richard resisted his need to take a picture and send it to Bailey it was never brought up in conversation over the phone when the rooster was on his way back home finally. Richard had sporuted more grey, he felt the one he plucked proved the myth to him now. It's why he didn't take a picture he hate how it look all those Grey's in his hair but he didn't dare touch the box of dye. Not yet, he'll ask Bailey to help him...the excuse for why he let the Grey's come in.

That was such a dumb lie they both knew he could do it himself. A heavy sighed escapsed his beak. He looked at his phone Bailey should be home soon. And in a second the screen lights up with Baileys name, their cute jealous fave the caller ID still. "H hey baby you almost here?" Why did he trip over his words just now? Hopfully they didn't catch that. "Yeah I'm here, oh so soon uh?" Distracted by his reflection but he feels he's pulling off this call well "miss you can't wait to..Kiss you?" Did the fading of his hair effect his charm? He hung up and made his way to the door.

Talons tapped on the floor this felt like forever staring at the door from where he stood, soon he just opens it stands outside hell help bring Baileys stuff in right instead if waiting yeah thats why he was out here. Watching thier car make it'd way up now it felt like it was crawling at a snails pace. Richard recounted how many Grey's had appeared since he let them come through it be enough to notice that was for sure...if he swept his hair back though? NO.

Deep breath take in and slowly released he was going through with this. His head snapped up once hearing the car door shut seeing Bailey he did his best to offer them his usual smile....it was crooked as if Richard forgit how a smile should look. Could bring himself to walk over and meet them half way even, he was frozen in place. Till Bailey closed the space between them arms open wide ready to kisses Richards face.

Then they see it they pause. Eyeing the grey in Richards hair, he swallow thickly. It's fine its okay it's going to be okay Richard has to repeat in his mind over and over again. "Uh welcome back I missed you." Trying not to draw attetion to the obvious here "here let me grab your things so you can settle inside." He manages to force himself to move now.

Bailey stops him hands cupping his face gently, Richard stared at them as he felt thier touch trace up to his hair feeling over the Silver locks. It's as if his fears are being swept away with the very motion. Why he was scared in the first place he didn't know vainty maybe? If he let himself go would Bailey reject him? That was a fear he shouldn't even hold...and yet. Lowering his head down a bit as Bailey voices he looks good.

It's enough to make the eagle laugh, "sure." He didn't buy that "now please for the love of all help me dye my hair this has been the worst two weeks of my life."

#muse| richard evans alder #aflockoffeathers #[mocha i wanna feel like this forever aflockoffeathers] #((there its on the blog!!))

[miekasa]

love talk

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: it’s not important that eren is a tattoo artist i just wanted to share bc i gave him tattoos here :’), fluff i think, smut/nsfw content, if you see a hint of eremin then no you don’t </2

+ word count: almost 2k, sickening innit luv

+ notes: yeah, still thinking about eren speaking german during sex bc he’s losing his mind hehe. i suppose this is the… softer version. might post another one later, who knows. and yes, i did almost name this pussy talk. 

Unbeknownst to him, Eren Jaeger speaks three languages.

The first two are obvious, but English is his preferred language; the one you’ll find him speaking most often. It only makes sense, seeing as it’s what the overwhelming majority of people, media, and signs spew at him.

The second is more reserved; something you might assume given his name, but not know for sure unless you asked, or stuck around long enough to catch him rambling excitedly to Armin in German, with broken slang phrases of English interspersed. It’s fascinating—cute, moreover—the way he stumbles back and forth between both tongues; and the difference in tone between them. You’re not sure if your own bias is peeking through, but you’re certain Eren and Armin both sound a little… meaner in German; more sarcastic, at the very least—and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were talking shit the whole time.

Though, there is a special, reserved intonation to his mother tongue that shows itself when Eren’s around you. It doesn’t seem to be by choice—gone beyond comprehension that he’s forced to revert to grunted expressions and curses in a language foreign to his surroundings. You assume them to be curses; you never can confirm, and Eren seems to not even be aware of his switching in the heat of the moment, can never quite recall what he was saying to you.

There are times when he’s reduced to mere sounds, no comprehensible words between the hundreds of thousands he knows—only guttural moans, and breathy sighs, and he seems to not even be able to understand himself. You have to admit, it’s a bit of an ego boost to be able to fuck your boyfriend stupid in two languages.

And at first glance, Eren doesn’t seem like the type of guy to know about anything outside of himself. He doesn’t seem like the full-sleeve, three ear piercing, tattoo artist kinda kid; but Eren Jaeger speaks the language of pictures, of symbols, of images, that he is able to decipher and give meaning to upon creation. He’s got a penchant for art, and a vision bigger than himself, so it’s only right that he takes his knowledge and applies it in its most permanent form. The tattoos are more than a hobby for him—they’re an extension of himself, his art, his language; and his body is the only canvas fit enough to capture them.

So, here, with Eren laying on his back, chest exposed, arms bent for his hands to rest against your waist, you get to see the culmination of all the words and all the pictures, from all the languages he’s deemed important enough to find a place on his skin.

“Do all of your tattoos have a meaning?” you question, reaching your hand up to trace over the delicate waves that ride along his right collarbone.

“No,” Eren winces when you move—just enough of him to feel an ounce of friction inside of you, but not enough to give him what he wants. He wiggles himself a bit, desperate for something, “Not at all.”

It makes you chuckle, with a sort of disbelief, at both his words and his actions, “You get things tattooed on your body that don’t mean anything to you?”

Eren lets out a shaky breath, followed with a boyish smile. He blinks at you slowly, lids fluttering and hands gripping tightly at your body, “Learned that not everything has to have a deep meaning to want to keep it around,” he tells you, right palm moving to venture over your tummy, and up your sides, “Somethings you just love.”

You don’t miss the lilt in his voice on the word ‘love,’ but you play it off, rolling your eyes at his deliberately sweet affections, and then, gently, your hips, “Pretty poetic for something with no meaning.”

“Yeah, well, Armin taught me that,” Eren grits, hands fastening themselves at your hips again.

“You talk about Armin a lot when we’re in bed you know,” you taunt him, moving your fingers to trace over more of the tattoos that litter his right shoulder, “Something I should know about?”

Eren shivers at the feeling—of your fingertips on his skin, and what he swears was an intentional clench around him, “You don’t seem to mind.”

You smile at him, enjoying the contortions of his face when you run your hands down his chest, palms pressed lightly against his pelvic bone. Eren bends a knee, but does he best to remain still, and you can’t help but to chuckle. He looks pretty when he’s trying his best.

“I’m greedy,” you tell him, raising your hips, and pausing in your words as you slowly lower yourself back on to him.

“Trust me,” Eren scoffs, a façade to cover up his reddening cheeks and shaky thighs, “I know.”

He tries to move his hips up, desperate for something more; for you to fucking move, but, you keep your hips perfectly still. Instead, you reach your arms behind you, and onto Eren’s thighs, cementing them to the bed. He groans, his hands sliding down to your own thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh.

“And you called me greedy,” you huff, amused, as Eren rolls his eyes beneath you. When you’re sure he’s not going to move, you bring your arms back around, palms splayed on his stomach, “Relax. This is what you asked for, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, in an ideal world, this would be happening when I was playing COD, not when I was already impossibly hard with morning wood. And with a lot less teasing on your part.”

You have to laugh—genuinely giggle—at Eren’s blunt honesty. He’s unintentionally charming; another linguistic skill he seems unaware that he’s proficient in. You can tell he doesn’t understand the source of your amusement, but the look in his eyes, the twinkle in his irises lets you know he’s too far gone to even care.

“Call it a lesson in self-control,” you say, moving your hands to his sides in time with a shallow grind of your hips, “Besides, I’m admiring you.”

Eren keeps his hands anchored on your thighs, shivering at sensitivity of his dick coupled with your hands stroking over his pecs, “Lesson fucking learning—babe, fuck, please—”

“Shh—not yet,” you coo, and reach to pull his arms off of you, leaving you with room to admire his sleeve. You take pity on him, holding his right wrist with both of your hands, before slowly beginning to bounce on him.

Eren squirms, his free hand reaching to grab at the flesh of your ass, eyes blinking open to watch his cock be buried inside of you. The relief is instant—for the both of you—immediate groans and shallow profanities slipping past your lips as you build a steady pace to ride him.

“Tell—tell me what this one means,” you question slowly, keeping your right hand around his wrist, but using your left to point to the tattoo; a stylized line art of crossed wings.

“Some shit about freedom,” Eren grunts, fingers twitching, “Fuck, babe—more, please, I’ll—”

Eren cuts himself off with a whine, and you hiss yourself, lifting your body all the way to the tip, before lowering yourself again at an agonizingly slow pace. At this rate, you can feel everything; every vein on his shaft, every twitch of his cock. You feel Eren deep inside of you, even see where the bulge outlines your tummy.

You still yourself for just a second, catching your breath, anchoring yourself on Eren. You’re pretty far gone yourself, but you want more; for yourself, and for him. You do your best to stay coherent, slowly grinding atop of him, questioning him about another tattoo on his arm, ignoring the way his palm grips at your bicep. It’s a small one, with detailed Japanese characters that you can’t understand, but appreciate anyway; it’s one of your favorites, and you ask Eren about its meaning, clenching yourself around him as punctuation to your question.  

Eren sucks air between his teeth, left hand pulling back to run his fingers through his hair, a grunted word in German falling from his lips. You smirk, but let him try to answer you.

“I don’t fucken’ know,” Eren grumbles, head thrashing from side to side, “It’s really fucken’ hard to remember anything—shit—like this. S’fucking torture.”

“Hm,” you hum, not satisfied; eager for more of Eren’s love language, “Tell me something in German, instead, then.”

But Eren can only babble beneath you; sounds incoherent in either language—reduced to desperate whines and grabby hands at your thighs, waist, boobs—anything. You lean forward, letting go of Eren’s tattooed wrist, and reaching to ghost your fingers over his lips.

“Come on, Eren, you’re usually so good at it when we do this,” you taunt him, words coated in sweetness that distract you from keeping up your pace, “Just want you to talk pretty to me. Tell me something, baby.”

Eren’s eyes travel from your fingertips, up your arm, neck, and to your face. When he meets your gaze something shifts; eyes heavy with want, and bitter with dissatisfaction.

So, he reaches for your extended hand, laces your fingers together, “Something like what?”

You wrap your fingers around his, then do the same with your left hand, “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a smile, finally satisfied.

Eren grunts, bending his right knee for leverage before he flips you over, hands still intertwined, but now pinned over your head, harshly pressed into the pillows below. He buries his head into the crook of your neck; licking a stripe along your collarbone, where you’d teased him minutes before. Then up, up, up, your neck to the shell of your ear, retreating downwards to suck on the skin just beneath your ear, nipping with pointed teeth.

Eren keeps his weight on you, the length of his cock sliding over your slick folds while he bites angry, red blotches into your skin—a kind of impermanent tattoo of his own making on your body. The friction is good, but not enough, and you wonder if Eren intends on teasing you as long as you’d done to him; but, he breathes heavy breaths up your neck again, before mumbling a series of foreign syllables into your ear.

He hovers over your face, satisfied by the daze in your eyes; the slight openness of your mouth. It’s you who looks dumbstruck now, a foreigner to his ministrations; and for once, he’s in control with his second tongue.

“What—what does that mean?” you finally ask, squeezing your eyes briefly when Eren teases the tip just past your entrance.

Eren chuckles, airy, gritty, and cocky all at once. He pushes his cock inside of you, balls deep, only to pull out almost all the way, before leaning forward just slightly, so that his bottom lip grazes over yours.

“It means I love you,” he whispers, hips bucking forward, “Try to remember that, ‘cause I swear I’m gonna fuck you stupid, baby.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #levi x reader #aot smut #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren fluff