#my jaw dropped when i heard the bridge for the first time like “this sounds familiar.... OH WAIT”

[crunchycrystals]

i still cannot believe we got the lyrics for the bridge in love from the other side before the announcement for it even dropped that was such an insane experience the first time i heard the song

#my jaw dropped when i heard the bridge for the first time like “this sounds familiar.... OH WAIT” #crunchyposts #fob #i just really love it when i get a snippet of a song or a lyric before i hear the song and then i put it together while im listening to it- #for the first time #like i remember that video taylor swift made before red tv came out that had the lyric “just between us did the love affair maim you too” #written in a notebook and then several weeks and 2 hours later i am reaching the end of the red tv album and i hear that lyric in atw10 and #i was speechless genuinely especially since i had just listened to like 7-8 minutes of a single song already #anyways love this experience very excited to hear the new album

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Hello, hope you're doing alright. I have a pretty twisted one shot request concerning our amazing Shadowsinger. I was looking at the super natural dark dialogue prompts list and I feel like the #24 and #36 would fit perfectly for my request.

So basically: I was thinking about Azriel capturing the reader. She's a spy from the Spring Court and she was on a mission wandering at the border of the Night Court. When the reader wakes up, she's tied up in Azriel torture room. She also realizes how Azriel seems to be drawn to her. As she tries to find a way to make him untie her, she remembers something about Illyrians obssesion with bargains and deals. She offers to make a deal with him that the first one to make the other cum earn a favor. If she wins he spares her life, and if not he can kill her. And like as they conclude the pack, a tattoo appears on both of them and bla bla bla... and she ends up winning this challenge maybe?

Can't wait to see if you'll be willing to write this! I think it would have a lot of potential if written by you. Anyways, keep up your good work. I love your writing.

Okay, I know I said my next release would be the POM bonus bits, and then I’d be working on my other pieces, but I got this request and had immediate inspiration for it, so here it is!

Thank you to whoever sent this in! I hope I did it justice. It was very fun to write! I hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

The prompts you requested to be included in this will be written in bold.

Note: I haven’t tagged anyone in this because I desperately need to sort out my tag lists and haven’t had the chance. I’ll add them later if I get the time. Sorry!

Warnings: Smut! 18+, minors dni. NSFW. Some details of aggressive behaviour. Azriel being a sore ass LOSER.

Lust is a Losing Game — Azriel x Reader.

You can feel the caress of Night before your eyes open.

Every single court you have trespassed and traversed has its own distinct feel. The Autumn Court feels perpetually — and unsurprisingly — like a stroll through a forest, touched by brisk air and hues of oranges, yellows, reds. Your home court — Spring — has a feeling of renewed hope; like the first rays of sun after a long, harsh winter.

The Night Court is blood-drenched, rippling darkness, and the allure of scandal, of want, of lust.

Night time is for secrets and exploration. It’s for burning the bridge between who you are in the daylight and becoming something…else. It’s exciting, and it’s coaxing, and—

Cold, sharp metal prods beneath your chin. Its point is lethal. Any wrong move, and you’re bleeding.

Perhaps even more lethal is the quiet voice that commands, “Eyes open.”

Slowly, you comply — because you are both intrigued and wise. Intrigued by where you went wrong and where you ended up. Wise, because you know that cold, granite voice.

It doesn’t surprise you in the least to open your eyes and find Azriel the shadowsinger stood in front of you, his blade at your throat.

You know of him, of course — spymaster of the Night Court, a rare species of fae, far more powerful than many realise. You’ve sat across from him during terse meetings between courts and been the target of those guarded, icy stares. You’ve never heard him utter more than a few words at a time; he is spoken for by reputation, by violence and threat and battle.

But you’d know that voice anywhere.

You peer up at him through eyes blurred by some sort of power. And when your lips tilt up into a smile, a subtle tick of his jaw tells you it incenses him.

“Hello, Azriel.” You rasp.

The blade presses into your skin as he asks, “What were you doing at the border of our court?”

“Picking wildflowers. Foraging berries. Making a daisy chain. All the things a lady loves to do.”

A quiet noise sounds in his throat. “Is that what you are? A lady?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, shadowsinger.”

His answering smile is cruel. A harsher press, and his blade nicks your throat. A drop of warm blood blooms on your skin.

Your eyes, rapidly clearing, take quick stock of your surroundings. The room is dark and damp and cold, empty save for the chair on which you sit — to which you are constrained. You can scent the blood of a thousand previous victims of the shadowsinger, and you imagine the vacancy of the space must have been more intimidating to them, somehow, than if the room were filled to the brim with torture instruments. The lack thereof tells anyone who finds themselves here that the Night Court’s spymaster does not need such things to do his work.

You try to shift in the chair, and find yourself well and truly stuck in place. Your gaze drops to your feet, where shadows act as manacles, as firm and strong and steel. Though your hands are restrained around the back of the chair, the cool touch tells you that a shadow binds them, too.

Azriel follows your gaze. A smug smile graces his mouth as he watches you try and fail to move.

“An impressive little trick.” You offer, nodding to the shadows around your ankles. “Now be a gentleman and untie me.”

“Tell me what you were doing at our border, and maybe I will.”

“Tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.”

“You’re not really in the position to barter, right now, are you?”

“And yet, here I am.” You smile. “Bartering.”

He stares down at you, shrouded in shadows, in night. His aloofness has been perfected over centuries, but you somehow know where to look in order to tell — you’re getting on his nerves.

A slight angling of his head. Shifting on his feet. He drags the tip of that blade up, not pressing quite hard enough to draw more blood, but to make a twisted heat enter your veins. The blade stops at your cheek.

“I don’t know how you do things in the Spring Court.” His breath caresses your face. “But I can’t imagine it’s part of your job description to be a smartass who can’t keep her mouth shut.”

Your eyes flick down to that blade. Back up to his gaze. “I can’t imagine it’s part of yours to lust over me so tirelessly.”

The shadowsinger actually falters.

Something tells you he would never do that in front of somebody else.

His teeth grit. He bites out, “Tell me why the fuck you were at the border—”

“I’ve seen you, you know.” A satisfied smirk curls your lips. You will not give away that your arms and legs are beginning to ache. “I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me for years.”

A clatter bounces off the walls as he tosses his dagger to the floor. Can’t be one that means much to him, then. You almost laugh, but a scarred hand is gripping your chin to the point of pain. He tilts — yanks — your chin up. “Pray, tell, how do I look at you?”

“With hunger.”

“Hatred.”

“Lust.”

“Loathing.”

“Like you want to touch me.”

“I am going,” he snarls, “to wrap my hands around your throat and—”

“Fuck me?”

“Kill you.”

A mocking pout puckers your lips. “Less sexy.”

"You must be a fool," his fingers bite into your skin, "to laugh in the face of such danger."

"What danger would that be? You've handed me your threats. What are you waiting for, Azriel? Kill me."

He could easily retrieve his blade and gut you then and there. You know it. He knows it.

And yet he doesn't do it.

He clenches his jaw so hard that you hear his teeth clash. He squeezes your chin, calluses and scars grazing you. It feels...good.

But then a growl is ripping from deep within his chest, and he's tearing his hand away and pivoting on the spot. He's confident enough in the shadow bindings to turn his back to you, clearly.

You just smile. He can't do it. Can't kill you.

"I'll do you the courtesy of asking one last time." His voice is strained. "Why were you snooping around our border."

"Perhaps I was hoping you'd find me and tie me to a chair. I'm into that kind of stuff, you know. We could make this fun."

"You think this room is intended for fun?"

"I think you and I could have fun anywhere, shadowsinger."

He says nothing. You watch as he sucks in a deep breath, steels himself. By his command, a shadow dances out and retrieves his blade from the floor. His fist flexes at his side.

Perhaps you can irritate him enough that he'll either kill you or let you leave out of pure exasperation. Or turn on the tears and plead innocence, that you're just a foolish, foolish girl doing her High Lord's bidding.

Or perhaps you can have fun.

You scan your brain for what you know about this court. How you can use it to your advantage — use Azriel to your advantage. An idea knits itself in the twisted avenues of your mind.

"This court has a thing for bargains, does it not?" You watch Azriel's shoulders tense at the sound of your voice. "How about making a bargain with me?"

He chokes on a scoff. "Why would I want to make a bargain with you?"

"Because you want me."

Slowly, he turns. His eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched. He looks two seconds away from using that blade to wipe your head clean from your neck.

But then he smiles, cruelly and coldly. "How very sure of yourself you sound."

You mimic that smile. "I am." Damn right you are. "So here is my deal: you toy with that lust however you like. We tease each other. Coax reactions from each other."

"Where is the bargain in that?" No outright refusal.

"If I make you cum first, shadowsinger," your eyes fall to his breeches. You could swear you glimpse the outline of a bulge. "If I make you cum first, I get to walk out of here with my head still attached to my body. But if you make me cum first...well. You get to know why I was snooping around the Night Court border, and you can send my head back to my High Lord in a pretty little box."

He stares at you for what feels like so, so long. Head to toe, his eyes rake over you. His shadows whisper in his ears, things you don't need nor care to hear.

Because you might not have his shadows, but you are a spy, just as he is. And you know his mind is already made up.

Shadowsinger, spymaster, feared member of the infamous Night Court — but still, a male weakened by lust. Lust for you that has driven him mad for a long, long time.

Still, he tries to keep up a front. He sneers at you, "You'd so willingly barter away your life?"

You smile. Simply, prettily. "It turns me on."

Oh, he's lost to his need. There's a newer scent that has joined the present ones of cedar and night-chilled mist and bloodstains. This one is deeper, smokier. Spicier.

He points his blade at you, the tip glimmering. And the shadow binds fall away as he demands, "Undress."

Your hands fall back to your sides. "Are you saying you agree to my terms?"

"Yes. Now take. Your fucking. Clothes off."

"What way is that to talk to a lady?"

"You are no lady—" His words fall short as, with a snap of your fingers, your clothes disappear. Leave you in nothing but your undergarments. His eyes drink in the brassiere, the silky little fabric that hangs from your hips. He swallows. "And I am no gentleman."

A spy you may be — someone who throws themself into danger and risk and dirt and blood, time and time again. But you never see a reason not to wear pretty underwear while doing so. And gods, in this moment, you're very glad of that choice.

It's the same colour as the siphons that adorn the male before you. The coldness in Azriel's eyes is replaced by intense, raw heat. He takes a step towards you, but you kick out a leg.

"Your turn." You say.

He pauses. Chucks his dagger aside again.

And then his clothes are gone.

He doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the fact that he stands utterly naked before you. So much golden, sculpted skin on show. All over, white scars tell the stories of previous injuries. His body is a novel written over time.

That silky underwear of yours is already soaked as you take your fill of him. For a moment, you think you might stumble in your bravado. He's huge and hard and standing to attention. Utterly perfect.

But you sit up straight in the chair and plant your hands on the arms. Your legs part, and Azriel hungrily tracks the movement.

"There is only one rule." You tell him. "We don't want to make this too easy, after all."

His jaw flexes. Eyes don't stray from the growing damp patch between your thighs. "What's the rule."

"You can touch me. You can lick me. You can put your cock in my mouth and my hand and rub it against my skin. But you can't fuck me."

He starts, pupils blowing wide. "But—"

"Not today." Your lips curl up. "But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me."

"You are wicked."

"Do you accept my rule?"

"Yes."

You are wicked, indeed. You widen that gap between your legs until you're hooking them over the arms of the chair. Baring your silk-covered cunt to him. His eyes damn near roll into the back of his head at the sight.

"Do you think you can stand to touch me without fucking me?" You hum, your fingers dancing down to that, sweet, sweet spot. You run them over the dampness, biting your lip. "I don't think you can."

"You underestimate me." Azriel growls. "And you're going to cum first."

There is no opportunity for you to volley a response. Not as Azriel surges forward and yanks you out of the chair, his arms securing you. His firm, velvety cock presses against your stomach. His lips slide over yours in a harsh, bruising kiss.

A male of natural elegance and grace, he doesn't even falter in the kiss or his steps as he marches you back, back, until you're pressed up against a cold wall. You nip his bottom lip and reach between your bodies, wanting to feel the pulsing weight of his cock in your palm, but his hands are grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head.

"No hands." He snarls onto your lips. "Just my cock and your cunt. Whoever cums first is the loser."

You almost want to laugh. So, so easy this will be.

But then he's letting go of your hands and pinning you with a knee. And out of fucking nowhere, a slim bottle appears between his fingers. You watch, leaning against the cold surface of the wall, as he pulls the stopper out of the bottle and tilts it towards you.

Oil drips onto your chest. Rolls down your breasts, your stomach. Azriel watches with predatory focus as it floods to where he wants it — soaking your underwear.

The blue silk darkens, sticks to your skin. Showcases everything that Azriel so desperately wants, but everything he will not get — today.

And then so quickly, he's hoisting your leg at his hip. So quickly, his cock is pressing into your soaking undergarments.

He positions his length between your thighs and guides it through your clothed folds. Both of you let out an immediate gasp at the taunting sensation — that a mere bit of fabric separates you from what you both want.

"Is this how you're going to play it?" Your head falls back, teeth digging into your lower lip. "You think thrusting through my clothes is going to stop you from cumming?"

"No." He makes a small noise, slowly rolling his hips. Watches his glistening cock rubbing against the silk. "But I think I'm going to make you cum fast from it."

"And then you get to kill me."

"And then," the head of his cock nudges your clit, "I get to kill you."

The sensation is divine, you can’t deny it. A coiled, aching pleasure that sits tightly in your lower belly. Azriel hears your intake of breath, and he smiles like this will be easy for him. You’re having none of that.

You’re thankful for your refined stealth and balance as you clamp your leg tighter around him, pull him harder against you. His hands press flat against the wall either side of your head, and you both gasp as his cock rubs so torturously against you, up and down and up and down.

“Gods,” He grunts, dipping down to brush his lips against yours. “This is torture.”

You smile. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to remove my underwear? You still can’t fuck me, though.”

A suffering groan chokes out of him, and he throws his head back. Because yes, he fucking wants you to remove your underwear. Yes, he wants to feel his bare skin rubbing against your bare skin.

But gods, the temptation to slide his cock into you is going to be unbearable.

But even though he knows that, and you know that, he smiles like this is nothing. He bites out, pleasure wavering his voice, “Why not? It’ll only make you lose.”

“I think you’re giving yourself a little too much credit.” You say, and then your underwear is gone, leaving you naked and dripping with nothing to shield you.

Not expecting it so fast, Azriel’s cock slides easily through your folds — and the head nudges your entrance. Very nearly slips in. He growls and halts the roll of his hips.

“Oops.” You smirk. “Careful, shadowsinger.”

“You’re fucking insufferable.” He bites back, and then he’s kissing you.

The kiss robs you of breath and of words. All you can do is twine your arms around his neck and welcome the sensation of him fucking through your folds, your wetness his pleasure. You’re lost to the feeling of him bumping against your clit, rubbing against it. Your legs are beginning to tremble.

“I want to fuck you.” Azriel moans, dropping his head to take in the sight of his cock against your pussy, never entering, never going deeper.

“I know.” Your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “And you have wanted to for a very long time.”

“Yes.” He can’t even deny it. “Yes.”

“You think about me.”

“Yes.”

“You wonder what it’s like to be inside me.”

“Yes.”

“But not today.” Your hands stroke down his muscled arms, and you moan as he grinds his cock against your clit. “Not today.”

“Nor any other day.” His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head up. “Because I will have your head. Cum for me, lady.”

He kisses you again, and gods, you want to cum. Every single inch of you begs and trembles for it. You’re clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you, fucking into you, spilling into you—

But through your pleasured haze, you remember: you will be victorious. Azriel cannot win.

And so when he’s kissing you and kissing you, moans catching in his throat and landing in your mouth, hips faltering with every thrust, you pull your lips from his and sink your teeth into his neck with a harsh bite. You’ve always imagined he’d like that.

And simultaneously, you lock him between your thighs and roll your hips torturously slow, dragging every last sensation from him.

Azriel’s cock, nestled snugly between the folds of your cunt, spasms and twitches. He slams his hands against the wall and goes still. Tries to pull back the control.

But it’s too late for that.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and then ropes of cum are spurting out of him and landing on your stomach, your breasts, your arms. Beads of it roll down his cock. He trembles hard, panting, groaning, growling.

And you suck harshly at his neck. Suck until it leaves a mark. And then pull away with a smile.

Breathing so, so heavily, Azriel’s gaze drops down to his cock like the damn thing has betrayed him. He’s wide-eyed and outraged. He’s not sure what’s just happened.

A horrid longing still aches between your legs and makes you want to continue until you’re exploding, too. But the triumph of a win is pleasure in itself.

“Well, well, well.” You glance down at the cum now coating your skin. “I do believe I was right.”

“What—” Azriel breathes, shaking out of his lust. “What kind of witchcraft was that?” He touches his neck, where you bit him. As though the answer lies there.”

You shrug. “No witchcraft, though I’m flattered you think so. You simply lost the game.”

“I. Don’t. Lose.”

“You just did.” You pat his shoulder. “There, there.”

He rips away, so fast that you almost fall. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Gladly.” With a snap of your fingers, you’re squeaky clean and clothed once more. Azriel’s clothes return, too. “And I’ll do so with my pretty head still on my shoulders—

“Get out.”

“Because I won the game—”

“Get. Out.”

“A bargain’s a bargain, after all—”

“I will not tell you again.” His hand grabs the back of your neck, hard enough to bruise, and he marches you to the door, yanking it open. “Out.”

You’re thrown into a dim-lit hallway, your body colliding with a cold brick wall. You throw Azriel a smile over your shoulder, despite your teeth singing at the impact.

“Try not to wank over me too much!” You call, as he slams the door shut behind him. “See you around!”

It’s only once you’ve winnowed back to your own court, and you’re bathing the day from your skin, that you notice the small black band inked into your upper arm. You scrub at it until it’s red raw. It doesn’t budge.

The mark of a bargain. But you had always believed that the tattoos of bargains disappeared once the terms were fulfilled…

But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me…

It had all been bravado. And yet…it had unwittingly been woven into the bargain.

Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me.

That’s the only way you’re getting that mark off your skin.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar smut #azriel smut #request #ask #azriel request #smut #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel x reader smut #azriel x reader request #azriel fic #acotar fic #reader insert #acourtofwhatthefuck

[kittyball23]

Lullaby (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: On the way to their first destination, the Trolls have a brief campout for the night

A/N: An idea by FandomKingdomGirl on AO3 as well as @pixarchan :)

__________________________________________

Nobody realized how much of a distance it was to their first stop, until the sky began to turn a gradient sunset color, and then gave way into night.

They had set out in the morning, traveling all day without rest, and it had taken its toll on the caterbus. Rhonda stretched out each of her four green legs and then flopped down on the ground, letting out a great big yawn. John Dory seated himself next to her and patted her fondly, the caterbus letting out a happy little purr in response.

Poppy in the meantime had nursed a fire, supplying wood to it so that it continued to keep them each warm. Sleeping bags were being set up by Branch around it, so they could all turn in for the night and be readily re-energized once tomorrow came.

“Ooo,” Tiny Diamond said, seeing the setup. “Are we gonna be telling scary stories?”

“No,” Poppy shook her head. “We’re gonna go to sleep.”

“What?” Tiny said, like he couldn’t believe it.

“It’s way past your bedtime,” the Pop Queen said matter-of-factly.

“A man doesn’t need bedtime!” Tiny Diamond pouted, crossing his arms.

“Oh, yes you do!” Poppy said. “How else are you gonna grow up to be big and strong?”

“Aunt Poppy, I’m already big and strong, see?” He flexed the teeny little muscles he had on his arms and Poppy sighed.

Branch could tell she was tired. With how energetic she was throughout the day, it all came crashing down at night. A fussy child was not something she would rather deal with right now when there was a nice, comfortable slumber awaiting her. So Branch stepped in to help.

“Proud of your boy

I'll make you proud of your boy

Believe me, bad as I've been, Ma

You're in for a pleasant surprise,

I've wasted time

I've wasted me

So say I'm slow for my age

A late bloomer, Okay, I agree…”

Branch sang just loud enough so that it could be heard over the crackling of the flames, and other nature sounds around them. Poppy glanced at him with delighted surprise, always charmed to hear his voice, but Tiny Diamond wasn’t sharing her sentiments exactly.

“A lullaby?” he said. “Nice try, but that never - “ He broke off, yawning suddenly, and realizing that it just might be working. Seeing that it was, Branch continued.

“That I've been one rotten kid

Some son, some pride and some joy

But I'll get over these lousin' up

Messin' up, screwin' up times

You'll see, Ma, now comes the better part

Someone's gonna make good

Cross his stupid heart

Make good and finally make you

Proud of your boy…”

It was clear that Tiny was falling to the sleeping spell, with the way he was bobbing his head and trying really hard not to let his eyes get too droopy. But he was being stubborn. He still had his glittery arms crossed and was sitting up straight. But Branch didn’t let it deter him.

“Tell me that I've been a louse and loafer

You won't get a fight here, no ma'am

Say I'm a goldbrick, a good-off, no good

But that couldn't be all that I am

Water flows under the bridge

Let it pass, let it go

There's no good reason that you should believe me

Not yet, I know, but…”

Poppy sighed in admiration, her hands tucked under her chin and her eyes dilated. He was so captivating when he sang. That voice of his was something special, a gift from the heavens that bore much talent. It was no longer anything new to her, but it was to someone else who hadn’t heard his singing voice for nearly two decades.

John Dory was just about to snooze against his pet caterbus, when Branch’s singing had made him perk right up. It sounded totally bro-dacious! Not realizing it, his jaw had dropped and his eyes had gone wide as the realization came to him. That was Baby Branch, the little infant who was only an inch tall and who’d sang there on stage next to him when he was a teenager, with a voice that was still developing in strength and uniqueness. Clearly, Branch hadn’t given up singing, and he seemed to have perfected his vocals so stunningly in the years he was on his own…

… years that John Dory was absent for.

A guilt suddenly came upon the teal Troll. He began to think back to how he’d greeted Branch back at the wedding earlier that day, as if no years had passed by, as though it was just another day up to their brotherly antics, when it obviously wasn’t the case. There were many years in between, years where he could’ve seen Branch grow into that lovely voice, and helped guide him there vocally. That was no longer possible… not without a time machine, which, didn’t exist of course.

Still, he wondered if there was a way to make amends to that bond…

“Someday and soon

I'll make you proud of your boy

Though I can't make myself taller

Or smatter or handsome or wise…”

John Dory had taken a leap of faith in joining in on the song, hoping that Branch wouldn’t get upset. Branch did not stop singing, but he did look over in surprise at his brother. A part of him was annoyed. He hadn’t wanted JD to sing with him. He wanted to sing with him only when the time required it, when they had already retrieved Spruce and Clay and were ready to do the perfect Family Harmony to free Floyd. But he couldn’t stop himself now. It would break the serene melody that was finally making Tiny shut his eyes for good, the fight in him to stay awake lost.

“I'll do my best, what else can I do?

Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you

Mom, I will try to

Try hard to make you

Proud of your boy…”

Both brothers sang, and Branch felt a little spark inside him once they’d concluded. It hadn’t sounded awful. It had sounded pretty good, and John Dory was beaming at him. Branch didn’t scowl at him. He didn’t smile just yet, but he wasn’t frowning or huffing either. He was just looking at him with the slightest hint of appreciation.It wasn’t much, but it was just enough for JD to get that vibe that things could be amended. They weren’t beyond repair - they could still be put right.

Poppy was bubbly with joy as she grabbed the sleeping baby and tucked him into one of the sleeping bags. Tiny smiled in his sleep and cuddled the blanket close to him, sucking his thumb. She then turned her gaze to Branch and JD, and could see the expressions on their faces. They’re going to be great friends by the end of this trip! Poppy thought to herself, looking forward to when she would see her boyfriend and his brother pal around, singing songs and hugging and dancing like they had years before.

Branch broke his gaze away first, and he glanced around them. “Wait… where am I gonna sleep?”

Poppy cocked her head. “Huh?” She looked down, and suddenly realized the predicament. Poppy had placed Tiny in Branch’s sleeping bag, and by the looks of it, the Trolling seemed far too comfortable to be moved. Aside from John Dory’s sleeping bag, which he was already settled into, there was only Poppy’s pink one.

“Ohhh… oops,” the Pop Queen said, biting her lip in contemplation.

“Hmm,” JD thought, and then he snapped his fingers as he thought of a perfect solution. “Say, why don’tcha sleep together!”

“WHAT?!”

John Dory reared back as the two Trolls yelled in shock back at him. “Whoa, chill, alright? I just thought the sleeping bag looked big enough to fit ya,” he explained. “What’d you think I meant?”

As Poppy’s face turned red with a blush, Branch already began to walk off. “You know what? I, uh, I can just gather some leaves and moss and stuff and I’ll just make myself a pile to sleep on, okay? Okay!” He hurried off.

“But won’t that be uncomfortable?” John Dory called after him.

“NOPE!” came the strained reply.

JD was confused when Poppy too didn’t want to speak anymore. “Well, goodnight!” she squeaked, quickly tucking herself into the pink sleeping bag and making sure to turn her face away from his.

John Dory exchanged a baffled look with Rhonda. “Was it something I said?”

Rhonda only shrugged.

__________________________________________ A/N: Song is "Proud of Your Boy" from the Aladdin musical 🎶

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #dreamworks #branch trolls #poppy trolls #john dory #tiny diamond #fanfiction #kittyball writes

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Broken Trust

Summary: Y/N Walsh meets Daryl Dixon while working as an undercover Police Officer. But, when Daryl finds out the truth about you, you’re forced to move back to King County.

While on duty, a bullet puts you and Rick Grimes in hospital and when you wake up, the whole world has changed.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language

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Chapter 34- (Final Chapter)

After a long shower and visiting Hershel to get restitched and bandaged, you made your way back into the main room, but most of the others had all gone to bed.

Everyone except for Rick Grimes.

Typical.

He was still sitting at of the tables with Judith fast asleep in his arms. It reminded you of all the times you had walked into his and Lori's house to find him sitting on his usual rocking chair with baby Carl in his arms. You missed those days.

Rick must have heard you walk in because a second later he looked up, spotting you standing in the doorway watching him. He gave you a small smile before looking back down at Judith.

"Merle woke up. Daryl's still with him." Rick informed, looking back over at you.

You sighed with relief. He was awake, he was alive. Daryl still had his big brother. That was all that mattered.

For a moment, you thought about going into the cellblock to see him, but figured you should probably give the brothers some time alone. You didn't want to disturb them, but at the same time you weren't tired yet and you sure as hell weren't going to stay here with Rick.

Without saying anything in response, you started to walk towards the door that lead outside before Rick spoke up.

"Where are you going?"

"Watch duty." You simply answered before the sound of the chair moving filled the air and you knew Rick had stood up.

"Hey, you don't have to do that. You're still hurt-" He tried to say before you cut him off.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Y/N, we need to talk about a lot of things. We need to talk about what the Governor did to you at Woodbury and we need to talk about what happened at the farm." Rick insisted and that was all it took for you to spin around, folding your arms across your chest.

"About what happened at the farm? I can tell you what happened. You killed my brother!" You snapped, glaring at him as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't have a choice-"

"You're fucking kidding me, right? Of course you had a choice!" You shouted, angry tears starting to rise in your eyes as you fought them back. Now was not the time to cry.

"He raised his gun on me first. That whole Randal thing? He set it all up. When we were all out looking for Randal that night, Shane was leading me further and further into the woods to take me out. Eventually, I knew what he was doing... but, I refused to believe it until he drew his gun on me." He explained and your jaw dropped as you stared at Rick who was still holding Judith in his arms.

"No, you're lying. Shane would never do that. He loved you like a brother! You've been best friends since before I was even born. He would never do that."

"I didn't want to believe it either. But, you saw the way he was getting. How erratic and unpredictable he became, he was a threat to all of us-"

"Stop! My brother may have lost his way a bit, but he could've come back and he sure as hell wouldn't try and kill you!" You shouted, it couldn't be true. Your brother would never do that.

"Y/N, look at me." He instructed, his voice soft, but you could hear the slight hitch in his voice and you knew Rick was fighting back tears himself and you sighed, taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes. "Shane lead me through the woods with the intention to kill me. He aimed his gun at me, fully loaded with a bullet in the chamber and finger on the trigger. He was going to kill me, I didn't have a choice."

Ricks voice broke as he spoke, a silent tear falling down his cheek and deep down you knew he was telling the truth. You knew Rick Grimes. And you knew when he was lying and that wasn't him lying. He was telling the truth. Shane had actually drew his gun on him... Your brother had tried to kill Rick.

"No. That's not possible. There has to be a reasonable explanation-" You started to ramble, but Rick shook his head.

"There's not. I tried to talk him out of it... but, Y/N, he gave me no choice."

That was all it took before the tears in your eyes started to fall. Ricks face instantly broke seeing you cry and more tears slipped from his eyes as he started to walk towards you. But, you quickly raised your hand, pointing at him to stay back.

"Don't." You warned, but your voice was barely above a whisper as you shook your head and Rick stopped where he was, staring at you through his own tears which just made you cry even more before you walked out the door.

"Y/N!" Rick shouted after you, but you ignored him.

You walked towards the watch tower and climbed up the stairs to take over from whoever was keeping watch. Needing to get away from Rick, needing to get away from everything for a while.

Michonne had been on watch and the second she saw the tears in your eyes she insisted that she could stay on watch duty and for you to rest, but you told her that you needed to be alone and wanted to do it. After some convincing Michonne had nodded, handing you the scoped rifle before heading back into the prison.

You leant the rifle down against the wall behind you and rested your forearms over the railing of the platform as you stared up at the stars in the sky.

You couldn't stop thinking about what Rick had just said. Your brother had tried to kill him... Shane had lied about Randal and was going to shoot Rick in the woods. It didn't make any sense. Your brother wouldn't do that. Him and Rick were best friends, they were brothers. Yes, they argued and fought with each other, but murdering each other? That wasn't possible. It couldn't be true. Your brother wouldn't do that.

But, as you stood there, staring up at the stars, you knew it was true. No matter how much you wanted to believe Rick was lying, you could read him like a book and knew he was telling the truth.

Rick was only trying to defend himself. Shane was the one that tried to kill him.

Maybe if you had been with them, you could've talked Shane out of It, you could have reasoned with him. Maybe he would still be alive if you had been there or if you had been a better sister. You knew that killing Otis had impacted him greatly. You knew he was getting unstable, you should have tried to help him more. You should have seen this coming and found a way to stop it. But, you didn't.

Shane had tried to kill Rick, so Rick killed him. It was self-defence and deep down you knew Rick was right, he didn't have a choice. But, Shane was your big brother and Rick murdered him, there was no way you could ever forgive and forget.

You hated Rick. You hated him, but at the same time you still loved him which just made you hate yourself even more.

You stood there, leaning against the railing for what felt like hours as you thought about everything. About Shane. About Merle nearly dying. About the Governor and everything he had done to you. You couldn't shut your brain off, no matter how much you tried.

You wished things were like they were before. You missed being a Deputy and working along your brothers. You missed the banter between them whenever you were lucky enough to be on the same shift or how the two of them would gang up against you and tease you.

You missed going around to Rick and Lori's house with Shane during your days off after a week of night shifts. You missed Friday night barbeques at Shanes house. You missed the late nights you spent under the veranda with just you and your brother as you talked about anything and everything. You missed hearing Shane laugh when him and Carl were playing around in the backyard. You even missed Lori's horrible cooking and how you'd end up ordering pizza 9 times out of 10 whenever she hosted a family dinner.

But, despite missing all of that, you weren't mad that the world had ended because if it didn't then you would have never seen Daryl again. You wouldn't have had a second chance with him and you couldn't imagine your life without Daryl Dixon. He was your first love and despite how rough things had ended between the two of you back in the day, you never stopped loving him and for whatever reason, Daryl still loved you as well.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs filled the air, snapping you out of your thoughts, but you figured it was probably Daryl.

You continued to stand there, your forearms leaning against the railing while staring out at the woods around the prison, the full moon lighting up the trees in the distance.

Without warning, a blanket was suddenly draped over your shoulders causing you to flinch in surprise as you glanced over your shoulder about to say 'thank you' to Daryl before your eyes landed on Rick.

You quickly turned away and continued to scan the horizon, not saying anything to him and Rick sighed.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but you're gonna have to find a way to live with me. Because I'm not going anywhere." Rick spoke up softly from behind you, his hand still on your shoulder as he squeezed it gently.

You could feel tears starting to rise in your eyes again. You wanted to forgive him, you wanted to have Rick back in your life again. He was like a brother to you and you loved him, you always would, but he still killed Shane.

Rick stood behind you for a few seconds, but you didn't say anything else. You kept looking out towards the woods, trying to ignore him before he lowered his hand and started to walk away.

"Rick." You suddenly called out, hating how weak your voice sounded.

You glanced over your shoulder in his direction just as he stopped walking and quickly turned towards you.

"Thanks. For the blanket." You said causing a small smile spread across Rick's face as he nodded and stared at you for a few seconds before he walked off.

You knew things weren't going to go back to normal overnight between you and Rick. Hell, they won't go back to normal at all, not without Shane, but you knew it would get better. Rick may have killed your brother, but you knew the story now and it didn't make up for the fact that your brother was gone, but Rick wasn't a bad man and he was still your brother too. 

"Did Rick just come up here?" Daryl's voice suddenly questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts as you turned around to find him walking towards you and you nodded. "What happened?" He asked, knowing that you and Rick had barely spoken a word to each other since the farm.

"He gave me a blanket." You answered causing Daryl to frown in confusion as he reached your side before you continued. "He killed Shane, but... Rick's like a brother to me as well. I won't ever forgive him for what he did, but he's still family and I still care about him, as crazy as that is."

"Nah, that ain't crazy." .

"Mmm. Speaking of brothers, how's yours going? Rick said he was awake." You said, changing the topic.

"He's awake. Won't stop bitching 'bout how he wanted to be the one to kill the Governor though. But, Hershel said he'll be fine, thanks to you." He explained and you shook your head, about to say that it wasn't because of you, but Daryl bet you too it. "If ya didn't cover us 'n make me take him back to the prison while you dealt with 'em walkers... Hershel said he wouldn't have made it."

"It's no big deal." You shrugged, looking back out along the horizon.

Daryl shook his head, leaning his forearms on the railing beside you, shoulders touching. You both stood there in comfortable silence and stared out at the stars shimmering in the sky above you.

"Back at the farm... you said ya still loved me. That still true?" Daryl suddenly asked a few minutes later.

"Of course." You answered, looking over at him, but he refused to look at you. "A lot has happened between us, I get it if you don't feel the same way-"

"No, I do. Even when I hated ya, I still loved ya. I just couldn't help it. I love you, Y/N." Daryl suddenly responded as he turned his head towards you and you stared at him in pure shock.

"You mean that?"

Daryl didn't respond with words, instead he lifted his hand and cupped the side of your face before he leant forward and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

"That answer ya question?" He whispered and you smiled against his lips before kissing him again, your hands trailing over the familiar scars across his broad shoulders.

Daryl moved slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer before accidentally bumping your bad shoulder causing you to wince and you tried to hide it, but Daryl noticed and immediately pulled away.

"It's fine." You quickly responded, but Daryl shook his head.

"Don't wanna hurt ya." He muttered, his hand still cupping the side of your face as his thumb brushed over one of the slowly healing bruises on your cheek.

"You could never hurt me." You whispered, resting your hand over his before you leant forward and placed a gentle kiss to his lips and he kissed you back.

A moment later, he pulled away slowly and wrapped his arm over your shoulders, pulling your body into his side as you rested your head on his chest. The two of you stood there staring up at the stars until the sun started to rise along the horizon, but neither of you wanted to move.

You finally had each other back again. The world might have ended for it to actually happened, but you wouldn't change it for anything. The Governor was dead. Merle was going to be okay. You and Rick still had issues, but the two of you would be able to move forward and you knew Shane was watching down on you with a proud smile. You were going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

-

MASTERLIST    |    TIP JAR

A/N- 

Well, that's it! 

Man, this took forever to finish but here we are. I don't even know what to say, I hope you all liked it and thank you to those of you who have stuck with me through this long fic, your continuous support means the world to me and it doesn't go unnoticed, so thank you!

Any Stranger Things fans here?? If so, I've got a Steve Harrington x Billy's Sister!Reader that is being updated regularly and I will soon be posting my new Eddie Munson x Reader fic too. 

Anyway, until next time, stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #twd #The Walking Dead #AMC The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #Rick Grimes #Shane Walsh #Norman Reedus #Andrew Lincoln #Jon Bernthal

[daisydeacks]

Jim Hopper Comfort Blurb 

Jim Hopper x Reader

A/N: my first attempt at hopper, dippin my toesies in for writing him. hope y'all enjoy :,)  it’s just fluff, comforting. that sort of thing. very short. sorry in advance to my jackass followers

It was late when pounding knocks came from your front door. You were already in bed, your dog Peanut curled up at your feet. You had been sleeping, almost curled up on your side on one side of the bed. You didn’t hear the pounding at first; you were a deep sleeper in the winter. Something about the cold kept you knocked out until your morning alarm. 

The feeling of Peanut jumping jumping off of your bed followed by her barking had woken you out of your slumber. You muttered intelligible words under your breath as you forced your eyes open, blinking as you tried to adjust to the darkness. You weren't sure what time it was. The first thought to cross your mind was “well, you can just go back to bed and let her bark, it won’t matter if you sleep in. You have tomorrow off!” 

You almost did succumb to your half asleep thoughts before the sounds of knocking echoed throughout the house and to your bedroom again. You groaned loudly this time, throwing your blankets off of you and storming through your hallway and down the stairs towards the front door, ignoring the cold floor under your bare feet. You reached a hand for the lock before you stopped, finally realizing it was the middle of the night. Who would be knocking in the middle of the night?

“Y/N?” A familiar voice was heard through the door, your dog now staring intently where the door would open, her tail swishing back and forth. Hopper?

“Jim?” You frowned now, finally unlocking the door and swinging it open. The golden retriever quickly bolted to the tall man, tail wagging as she sniffed at his boots. Your frown quickly dissipated at the sight before you moved aside, letting Hopper into your home. “Why are you knocking? I gave you a key, silly.” You gave him a small smile, closing the door once your dog followed him in. 

“I-” Jim frowned, looking down at his keys in his hand before his regular tough facade went soft. “Yeah, you did.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyebrows furrowed. “Shit, I’m sorry-” 

“No, don’t.” You cut him off, reaching up to help him out of his coat. He took his hat, setting it on a hook by the front door you had hung specially for him. You hooked his heavy coat over your arm, brushing a few wrinkles out before looking up at him in the dimly lit entryway. You could see his eyebrows knit with stress. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Huh?” Jim snapped out of whatever thoughts he was stuck in, eyes tired. 

“I asked what’s wrong?” You frowned a bit now, reaching your free hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of his face. You cupped his jaw once his hair was out of his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. 

Hopper’s eyes fell shut at the feeling, his shoulders sagging a bit as he leaned into your touch. “Do you ever feel like you’re cursed? Like you're destined to be the reason horrible shit happens all the time?” 

Your face softened at his words. It had obviously been a rough day at work for him. “Sometimes.” You answered truthfully, voice quiet. This caused Jim’s eyes to open and meet yours, his expression a bit curious. “But it’s not the...destined to be the reason sort of thing. It’s the..” You sighed, trying to think of the right words. You dropped your hand from his face, moving to the closet to hang his jacket. 

Jim trailed behind you, finally kicking his boots off near your door and making sure it was locked. The two of you started walking up the stairs, Peanut seeming to race the two of you to the master bedroom. 

“Maybe being there? When it happens? So it seems like you’re maybe the reason, but in reality, it’s some shitty version of ‘in the wrong place at the wrong time’ sort of thing.” You finished your thought, rubbing your eyes as you padded down the hall, Jim right behind you, his steps heavy in comparison to yours. 

He was silent as he mulled over your words. 

“Shitty things happen everyday, hun.” Your voice was empathetic. “Whether you’re there or not. But,” You turned towards him before entering your room, grabbing his larger hands in your own, “look at me.” 

Jim's eyes flickered up from your hands, his expression almost protective as he forced himself to meet your eyes. You hated seeing his pretty blues so sad. 

“It probably helped them that you were there. From start to finish.” 

“Y/N-” 

“No, I know what you're going to say.” You shook your head, squeezing his hands a bit tighter to get your point across. “You think everyone sees you as some lazy police chief. Most don’t. I don’t. That dad you helped find answers for today? He doesn’t.” 

Jim was still silent as you spoke, eyes still staring into your own before he looked down again. He let out a long sigh, chest almost deflating. “You heard.” 

You exhaled through your nose, giving him a sad, tight smile before you pulled him to you best you could. It didn’t help that he was so much taller than you when you tried to comfort him, but Hopper appreciated it nonetheless. Your actions alone were enough sometimes to remind him that he’s not as awful as he thinks he is, that the world wasn't as awful as he thinks it is. Because if you existed, it couldn’t all be bad, right? Maybe that was a little dramatic on his part but he didn’t care.

“It was on the news.. I didn’t want to bother you until you were ready.” 

The two of you stood in the dark hallway for a while, Jim’s face nuzzled into the top of your hair. You pretended not to notice the wet feeling on the top of your head, the raggedness of his breathing, how his arms tightened a bit more around you with each shaking breath. 

It wasn’t long before he pulled away with another sigh, hand coming up to wipe his face quickly. You watched him for a bit before leaning up on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his damp cheek. It was near his mouth you could smell the whiskey. You pushed aside the thoughts of him possibly drunk driving. If you had to be that close, it was probably a while ago, and he could hold is liquor. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? It’s late.” 

“Yeah.” Was his mumbled response, the two of you finally entering your room. He had quickly stripped down to his boxers, clothes kicked off to the side, setting his utility belt on top of the empty bedside table as he normally did. You watched as he crawled into your bed once he kicked his socks off, his larger frame causing your blankets to pull more to his side. 

You picked up his clothes before your dog could snatch any of the articles of clothing as her new chew toy, setting them on top of your chester drawers for the time being. You patted Peanut on the butt, mumbled a quiet ‘good girl’ before crawling under the blankets next to Hopper, the man seeming to hesitate a second before he pulled you to him. You folded your arms to your chest as you were pulled flush against his chest, the both of you on your sides facing each other. You felt your dog jump onto your bed soon after, her tags jingling as she wedged herself in between the both of you best she could.

“Really?” Jim’s muttered tone was sour as she continued to wedge herself up as far as she could. You couldn’t help the giggle that left you before you pressed a kiss to his chest.

“You knew we were a package deal, Hop.”

“I know.” His voice was still bitter, his voice rumbling a bit in his chest. You laughed quietly again before you nuzzled closer to him, his arms tightening their hold on you once everyone- Peanut- was settled.

#Jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #Jim hopper #Jim hopper blurb #stranger things #stranger things fic #not jackass #daisy writes

[nelapanela94]

Nela! Congrats on your 1k event! May I start with some fluff?! 3 and 13 combo sound like an interesting duo! One that would leave you with butterflies :)

Elizaaaaa!!!!

Thank you again!!!!

Here’s the dose of fluff we crave.

TW: Fluff, depiction of injuries

WC: 1.5k

1. “I can’t think straight with you!"

2. “I’d build you a palace.”

***

Sluggishly, Levi opens his eyes through the milky veil of sleepiness and weariness, a deep growl wrenching out from his chest, churning his dry throat. All the gears in his body creak back in place, muscles sore and strained, and his left side stabbing with pain. He smiles when the image clears and the first thing he sees is your face.

He winces at the burning sting sinking into the cradle of his elbow, and then comes your tinkling, soothing voice 'Don't move you, ass. You were injured in battle."

And that's when the large room smooths its edges and corners, rattling and agitated with nurses scuttling from beds to trays to the laundry rooms, the smell of alcohol, bleach and blood wafting in the air. So, this is how it feels like to be on the other end.

There's a first time for everything, isn't there?

The dull throb keeps him tethered in bed.

The last he remembers he was riding his horse, smoke signals blasting and swooshing above him, but against the bleak stage tarnished in gray, the colors were indistinguishable. Rain slashed down melted the roads. Sinewy drops hammered against his shoulders and back, holding a shroud through which you could only see death’s expectant eyes. He heard the shouting and cries, two new recruits he knew well. It was their first expedition. He closed his eyes and saw them, and had to make sure it wasn’t their last.

Whatever you put in him is making everything wobbly. The pain falters, and reality skid out of focus. He feels light, floating, adrift. No worries; no agonies.

A weak smile tugs one corner of his lips as he watches you. “You’re beautiful.”

Creases on your forehead pull up your brows in a grimace.

“Shut up!” You blush hard and avert the eyes, scratching an itch under you jaw, the way you do when you’re nervous. You turn to the tray and rummage for a pair of scissors and roll the sheets at his hips. From the hem of the sleeves, you shear his light blue button up, then another cut parallel to the buttons.

“That was my favorite.” He rasps, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Why do you wear your favorite shirt for an expedition?”

“Admit you just want to see me naked.” He scoffs, and the sting of derisive stares pinch your back. Your peers glance at you, teasing stares and stifled giggles.

“I’m stitching your mouth.”

You remove the torn fabric, dispose it on a bucket standing by your feet, then unbuckle his pants to grant full access to the slash. and damn it, he’s so well built, muscles taut all the way down where the V and a sparse flare of hair dip under the elastic of his briefs. An army of ants march under your cheeks, and you swallow, pouring water to the fire stoked by your rebel hormones. You bite your lips and focus on your job, to clean the wound and make sure this jerk stays alive. Humanity depending on you right now.

“Kiss me instead.” He blurts, rolling his head from side to side on the pillow.

He keeps crossing back and forth the bridge of consciousness.

Through slivered open eyes, he traces the line of your forehead, curving at your nose, your brows knitted in concentration. Your lips juicy in calla Lilly pink.

He feels the needle and thread crawling through, making the two sides of skin re-encounter, the cells in each edge asking the other ‘where were you?’, adding another scar to the record. He wants to reach out and touch you, but his brain cells and nerve endings are on strike under the blurring medication.

Nonsense drips from his mouth, about princes and princesses and fairy-tales he’s never read but heard you babbling about passionately while your nimble hands fix him. Grunting, he closes his eyes and smiles, the cleansing solution running down in rivulets on his skin, washing away blood and sanies, as you gingerly swab him dry with a piece gauze.

He hates this unfamiliar feeling of being vanquished by the inexplicable urge to act on irrational and secret desires. Whatever is coming out of his mouth, he hopes, it's not cringey; he has an image to maintain.

"I'd build you a palace," he spews, and inwardly curses for the crap that wrings out of his mouth. "You and I and our kids... have a date with me."

Your face is charring in bright red, fueled by the tittering of other nurses and winks from the injured soldiers.

"Say yes, Y/N." They cheer.

You wish you could turn into an ostrich and dig your head deep in the ground.

At this point more sedation would be harmful.

You shake your head and exhale a long sigh, apply ointments on the little cuts and bruises and dress the minor injuries in bandages.

He sees you dancing in the low light, coming closer, smiling at him and pushing your devilish grin against his mouth, his hands lacing with yours; you making him bold and naive in a single kiss. You dismantle his defenses, consume him and calm him all at once.

Eventually, he falls asleep, his features relaxed to the slumber, like a little boy's after an evening consuming his energy at the playground.

*

"Uh?" He blinks twice when he opens the door, flicking his eyes over you with disdain. That dress suits you, your hair falling over your shoulders wildly, not gathered in a bun under a bonnet. "What do you want? I'm busy now."

"On what?" You raise a brow, your hands clasped behind your back, sheepishly. "I've heard you're off duty for two weeks."

"tch."

"You asked me on a date."

"Cut the crap."

You chuckle and push past him, invading his office. "Don't tell me you forgot the scene you pull out at the infirmary."

"What the fuck you talking about?" He gulps, and rubs his sweaty hands on his shirt as he follows.

"You and I having kids, living in a palace, something like that."

"I never said that," he growls and sinks into the couch, pouting, his arms folded over his chest as you pour tea for two.

"There were plenty of witnesses, Levi. The whole ward heard your groggy pathetic confession."

The winks, the beer-clanks, the shoulder pats, it all twines into realization.

Irritation coils in his guts. His fists are clenched like iron balls, plunging into the smooth cushions.

"What about you?" he barks, and drops of chai tea smear tadpoles on the coffee table. "Those clumsy fingers of you,” he snaps.

"This clumsy fingers patched you up." You scowl, and thump the mugs on the refurbished wood. Leather screeches under you. "Asshole. Are you feeling well?"

He looks away, like a grounded boy, and mutters, "thanks. And yes, I heal fast."

You scratch your neck and clear your throat, a bead of cold sweat running down behind your ears. You tear off the death skin of your lips and bring your hands down to your lap. "Do you really... like me?" Tugging at the hem of your dress, you coyly ask, and immediately regret it. You stand at the verge of crying, rub your nose, turn your face away.

Levi frowns, and his tongue twists, delving into for the right words, or at least not destructive ones.

“It’s just…” his teeth rake over his bottom lip, his cheeks incandescent with chagrin. Fuck. He’d rather be fighting titans right now.

“If you want me to, I’ll leave you alone.” You stand and smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“Wait!” His hand grasps yours pleadingly, and he looks up, lips parted. Your gazes intertwine.

“Whatever it is just say it.” You purr serenely. Your head tilts to the side by a fraction, and your eyes slip to your locked hands. He squeezes harder.

“It’s you.”

“Me?” Your perplexed eyes crash with his trembling ones.

“Yes. You.” He lowers his head, and tucks his free hand, set into a fist, against his forehead, clenching his eyes tight in a miserable attempt to get his words right. And he explodes, making the mugs rattle as he smacks his fist onto the table. “I can’t think straight with you!”

It wasn’t the downers.

They just knocked down his walls.

Bewildered, you stare at him, and your grimace becomes a giddy smile that evolves to a blast of laugh. And it’s too late for him to pick up the pieces scattered all over the place. Shameful. It just happened, and it’s too late to draw his hand out of the fire unscathed.

Embarrassed, he ducks his head and sighs, fighting the urge to slap his face and kill the obnoxious tingling in his cheeks.

“You silly.” You extricate from him and rush to the door, giggling, before his eyes catch you.

“Stay.” He groans to his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets, defeated.

With your hand on the knob, you look over your shoulder. “You want me to stay?”

He smiles and nudges his chin to the coffee table. “It’d be a waste of good tea.”

#Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman/reader #levi ackerman/you #Levi ackerman attack on titan #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot #attack on titan #snk #snk levi #aot Levi #Levi ackerman fic #Levi ackerman x y/n

[suburbanlegnd]

your opinion about the vault!!! LETS FUCKING GO!

Hello Poppy 🫡

Ok, so I have so many thoughts about the vault. I wasn't hooked when I first heard them, because I expected them to sound a little different. But now I think I can say that these are probably the best songs from the vault she has released so far, because they grow on me more and more with each listen.

I wasn't impressed by "slut!" the first time I heard it, but now the lyrics, the production but especially the intro sounds so magical and it's impossible not to like it!

"say don't go" was my first favorite 1989tv vault track. She really gave us another situationship banger!

You probably already know my opinion on "now that we don't talk". Gonna listen to this song on repeat for the rest of my life. It should've been longer!

I was really excited about "Suburban Legends". Ngl, I was low-key disappointed when I finally listened to it, so it's not my favorite vault track. On first listen it seemed a little blank, or maybe just different from what I expected, so I had to listen to it many times to like it a lot more! I really love the bridge, and the tick-tock sound? Brilliant.

"is it over now" my jaw dropped when I heard it. It reminds me of some coming-of-age movie soundtrack.

Here's my actual ranking: ntwdt > slut > suburban legends > is it over now > say don't go. Although I love all of them equally. So in conclusion:

#she really slayed with 1989tv #asked

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly Appreciation Week Finale

Sorry for the delay, just had a hard time thinking of anything at first, but then this popped into my head. Fair warning: I could not stop giggling as I wrote this. It’s in no way meant to be taken seriously, just keep that in mind as you read. And without further ado, here’s my final contribution to SAW 2023!

~*~

Let Me Be Your Wings

Sherlock had no idea why he was the way that he was. Neither his memory nor his adoptive mother, Mrs Hudson, could provide any answers. All he could remember was a childhood spent climbing table legs and racing across tiny bridges connecting various pieces of furniture. Mrs Hudson had done her best to accommodate him, to make being so small a person living in an enormous world as easy as possible. But he’d known very early on that he was not where he belonged.

As he reached adulthood, he spent more and more time reading. Mrs Hudson had few books in her collection, but she made sure to put them within his reach, and though he was quite significantly smaller than them, he managed to carefully turn every page, devouring the words within.

That was how he made his first discovery of fairies.

Ever rational and realistic, he initially rejected the notion of any sort of magical being… but he couldn’t help but wonder. How had he come to be the only person his size, if not through magic? What other explanation could there be? As he often said to himself, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Perhaps he was meant to have been a fairy himself. Perhaps something had gone wrong, resulting in his wings not growing or appearing, or however one came to have wings. Perhaps, he thought in his darker moments, someone had taken them. He might never know the answers, but he could not rid himself of the notion, nor the obsession. Day and night, he pored over the few books with information on the fae. Some presented that information as fact, others as fiction, but all had one similarity: There was a queen of the fairies, and she had the power to make a mortal one of their own.

His path was clear; he would have to find this queen of the fairies, and convince her to give him wings.

Sherlock told Mrs Hudson of his plan one evening, and predictably, he was met with concerns for his safety and pleas for him not to go. He presented his research and logic as an argument, and eventually, she conceded, only asking that he wait to leave until morning. A small concession to make, he thought, and easily agreed.

That night, however, as he lay in his walnut-shell bed, too excited to sleep, he heard a strange sound. He sat upright, holding his breath as he listened.

It was… a bee?

Sure enough, as he got out of bed and made his way toward the window, where the sound came from, he found a bee settled just outside. But that wasn’t all. The bee had a sort of saddle on it, suggesting that someone—or something—had been riding it. Sherlock hardly had time to process this revelation before the rider appeared, having pushed the window open just enough to slip inside.

And Sherlock’s jaw dropped.

A fairy.

She was a bit smaller than even him, clad in a dress that seemed to be made of flower petals, her opalescent wings fluttering at her back. Her eyes, wide and brown, landed on him, and her mouth fell open to match his. They stared at one another in silence for several moments, before she swallowed and put on a shy smile. “Hello,” she said in a soft voice.

Sherlock finally closed his mouth, but didn’t stop staring. “Who are you?”

“My name is Molly,” she answered. “What’s yours?”

“Sherlock. Why are you here?”

Her face fell a bit. “Oh, er, sorry… would you like me to leave?”

“NO!” he bellowed, then winced at his volume. She jumped back at the outburst, but she didn’t seem at all put off by him. In fact, she was smiling. Sherlock cleared his throat. “Sorry. What I meant was, you can stay… if you like.”

Her smile grew. “That’s a relief. Thank you.” Another silence settled between them for a few seconds, then her brow furrowed as she looked past him. “What happened to your wings?”

Sherlock’s stomach twisted. “I… I’ve never had any.”

Now her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not ever?” He shook his head. “I’ve never met a mortal who was the same size as me.”

“I’ve never met anyone the same size as me,” he countered, then more seriously added, “I’ve never really met anyone at all, come to think of it. It’s always been just me and Mrs Hudson.”

“Mrs Hudson?”

“My mother… adoptive,” he clarified unnecessarily.

Those brown eyes continued staring at him, but a slow smile spread across her elfin face. “Would you like to meet more people your size?”

His heart did a somersault in his chest, and he nodded. She held out her hand to him, but he hesitated, looking over his shoulder in the direction of Mrs Hudson’s bedroom. He’d promised to wait until the morning to start his adventure, and she would be terribly upset if he broke that promise… but this may be his only chance. Finally, with a deep breath, he stepped forward and took her hand.

“I don’t have any wings,” he reminded her as they moved to the window.

“That’s alright,” she smiled easily. “Let me be your wings.”

#sherlolly appreciation week 2023 #sherlollyweek2023 #sherlolly #thumbelina au #lmao #this is just silly #i had fun with it though #that's what's important right? #belated entry #please forgive

[3cheers4alex]

Since I’m making progress on editing Smoke Rings, here’s a full snippet from the first chapter!

――――――――― ❅

The twilight sky is pitch black, streaked with snow-laden clouds, thin and stretched out like white veins about to rupture. Otabek drops onto a rusty chair and sticks another cigarette between his lips. Since returning to Almaty, he has picked up the nasty habit of chain-smoking.

Should he pick up the phone? It's been ages since he'd last seen that name displayed on the screen... Given the sudden nature of the call, he can only imagine that it's an emergency. He sighs and hits the green button.

“Otabek!” It's a singsong voice that sounds familiar. “I didn't think you would pick up! Is it getting late for you?”

Otabek remains silent. The moon, high in the sky, stares down at him, its craters resembling gloomy, exhausted eyes. He exhales a puff of smoke, which momentarily hides his view of the stars, and thinks of what to say. He can't remember the last time he saw Viktor Nikiforov in person.

The music changes, and the low bass rattles the glass doors, replying on his behalf. “Oh,” Viktor laughs. “I see you're having fun...”

“Uh... Yes...?”

“Well then, would you consider coming here to have more fun?”

“More fun?” Otabek croaks out. At the other end of the call, Viktor's cheerful applause rings out. Nothing bad happened, then... A weight is lifted from his chest, but he still struggles to breathe. He pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take a long breath.  How could he forget that Viktor is strange? Even stranger than the rest of people?

“Yes, yes, that's the plan!” Viktor exclaims.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh yes, that's right, you haven’t heard of it... Yuuri and I are going to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary. I wanted to send you an invitation by mail, but it slipped my mind! Yuuchan suggested I call you directly.”

“Wedding anniversary?”

“Yes, of course! My Yuuri deserves a proper celebration of our love! You know, our passion has never stopped burning like the first day!” The conversation pauses. Otabek is embarrassed by Viktor’s outburst of affection, as he has never been close to him. That has obviously never stopped Viktor from showering Otabek with details of his private life. “It's in Moscow,” Viktor adds.

“Moscow,” Otabek echoes.

“That's it. I'll email you the details!”

“But...”

“The adress is still the same, right? Amazing. Don't worry about a thing, I will send you the plane ticket and hotel booking. It's all on me. See you soon, Otabek!”

Otabek has little time to think or speak, Viktor hangs up. The darkened screen mirrors his face, his jaw tense and his eyes full of regret. It takes him a few seconds to register the date shown on it, the 1st of March, and his heart tightens a little more. He doesn't like to think about all the things he gave up when he hung up his skates. He has no desire to return to Moscow.

#smoke rings #alex writes

[dirtpie39]

NieR: Automata... so far!

Okay just gonna start this by saying that so far I’ve only really gotten to the first save point in the game so this is mainly just first impressions!

This game is one of those rare times where I’m going through it with high expectations. Usually I keep my expectations for things low when it comes to movies, tv shows and games (etc..). But with Nier automata I went in mostly blind and filled with hope/expectations. And like even just with the bits shown above I am very happy so far. The art in the game is stunning so far! 2b looks and sounds gorgeous. 9s so far is a cutie pie! Although I did get a minor spoiler that he apparently does something bad… bad enough that I’ll apparently end up disliking him. Which I doubt but who knows?

I remember walking up to the bridge for the first time and just knowing immediately that sh*t was gonna get real. It looked/felt both ominous asf and innocent. It took me until my 3rd-ish try to beat the Goliath boss ya’ll… I’m playing on normal mode. Yes, yes I am embarrassed by that LOL. What’s worse is that I died twice to the two chainsaw things before I got to the actual boss on the third try. And I beat the actual boss on my first time getting to it. The moment the actual boss robot appeared my jaw dropped ya’ll. I was SHOOK.

I know I already said it but ya’ll… THE ART IS SO F**KING PRETTY OMG. Also I really like the different ‘camera’ angles the game changes to at certain points. Like in the first pic above, when going around circle buildings (etc…).

I don’t have a pic for it but the music I’ve heard in the game so far has been pretty neat!! Like in particular when 2b has to fight the bots in that factory before the first save point. In any case loving the game so far and am about to get on my laptop to play more rn lolol

#nier automata #nier: automata #nier #2b #9s #2b x 9s #video game #anime #even just the main screen for the game is so pretty ngl #just me

[thelastspeecher]

sorry abt taking forever to request this (life has got me by the scruff of my neck like a kitten) but could I request super tailor au stute fluff? that or the night where Lute discovers that stan is a villain?

As a frame of reference for folks - on the Discord a bit ago we developed a new super AU that we dubbed the Super Tailor AU because it prominently featured Lute McGucket as a tailor with the superpower to control fabric and clothing, and he winds up working as a tailor, particularly for superheroes. Stan eventually becomes an employee of Lute's and they start a romantic relationship, but there's a slight problem: Stan's been a villain this whole time.

Hope you like it, nour!

———————————————————————————————————–

              Lute was awoken by a loud clutter from the kitchen.  He opened his eyes, but opted to remain in bed until he heard something else.  After all, it could just be the cat knocking things over again.

              “Fucking…shit…” Stan’s voice sounded faintly.  Lute groaned and sat up.  He threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

              Lord above, I love the man, but he’s awful fond of testin’ that love, ain’t he?  Wanderin’ home drunk at the witchin’ hour…  Lute’s phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed.  He picked it up.  It was a text from Angie.

              I know you’re probably asleep, but wait’ll you see what Dan managed to do tonight!  He just got home and couldn’t stop bragging about how he gave Fleshmender what for.  The morning news is going to have a field day.  Lute sent back a thumbs up emoji, then got up and exited the bedroom.  His vision wasn’t great in the dark, but he knew his house well.  Even if he didn’t, he just needed to follow the sounds of Stan bumping into things and swearing.  At the kitchen, he turned on the light.  His jaw dropped.  Stan was partially dressed, but that wasn’t what shocked him.  No, what shocked him were the wounds on Stan’s body, the bruises on his face, and the costume he was in the process of taking off.

              “Uh…”  Stan let go of his costume to hold his hands up plaintively.  “I can explain.”

              “Yer…yer a mask?” Lute croaked.

              “…Surprise?”

     ��        “I’d- I’m tempted to bring up how ya told me you’ve never considered bein’ a hero, but I know that costume.  That ain’t a hero’s costume.”  Lute pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Finish takin’ it off and sit at the table.”

              “Wh- where are you going?” Stan asked.  His words slurred slightly.  Lute winced.

              Sure hope he don’t have a concussion.

              “I’m grabbin’ the first aid kit.”

              “Oh.  Good- good idea,” Stan mumbled.  Lute exited the kitchen and made a beeline for the bathroom, his mind racing.

              Why didn’t I catch on to it sooner?  Without actually seein’ him standin’ in his costume in the kitchen?  Of course he’s Fleshmender!  Lute entered the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit underneath the sink.  Healin’ ain’t a common power.  How did I not connect the dots when I saw a villain with Stan’s power and body type throwin’ down with my sister and her team?

              When Lute came back to the kitchen, Stan was sitting at the table in only his boxers.  He watched Stan place a hand over a particularly large cut on his arm and close his eyes.  Lute waited for the shimmering light that accompanied Stan’s healing ability, but nothing happened.

              “Dammit,” Stan muttered.  Lute walked over to the table and sat next to his boyfriend.

              “I’ve never seen ya fail to heal yourself,” Lute remarked, opening up the first aid kit.

              “Happens when I use it too much,” Stan said with a shrug.  To Lute’s relief, he wasn’t slurring anymore.  “Gotta recharge or whatever, y’know?”

              No, I don’t.  Ya don’t talk ‘bout the mechanics behind yer power much.  We’ve been datin’ fer ages and ya still keep so much from me.

              “Well, I can at least patch ya up so’s ya stop bleedin’ all over the kitchen until yer charged enough to heal,” Lute said briskly, deciding to be as businesslike as possible to keep his mind from racing.  “Hold out yer arm.”  Stan did as he was told.  Lute got to work dabbing the cuts with disinfectant.  Stan let out a hiss.  “Somethin’ wrong?”

              “Is that supposed to hurt?  What even is that?” Stan asked.  Lute stared at him.

              “It’s- it’s hydrogen peroxide.  And yeah, it’s s’pposed to hurt.”

              “Why?”

              “Well, puttin’ things on open wounds usually hurts.”  Lute set down the cotton ball to frown at his boyfriend.  “Ya don’t know this?”

              “I haven’t run out of enough juice to heal myself since I was a teenager,” Stan replied.  “And since my power showed up, I’ve made sure I take care of cuts first.  Bruises can wait, bleeding can’t.”

              “When did yer power manifest?”

              “Ten.”

              “Yer almost thirty.”

              “And?”

              “You haven’t had a cut what didn’t heal right away in two decades?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Lord above,” Lute mumbled.  He began to bandage the largest of Stan’s cuts.  “I’d ask what exactly happened to put ya in a state where ya ‘ran out of juice’ just to heal yourself up this much, but I already know.”

              “You do?”

              “Got a text from Angie sayin’ her husband beat the tar out of Fleshmender.”  Lute glanced over at the costume laying on the floor.  “I might not be a mask like m’ sister, but I can recognize the outfit of one of her enemies.”

              “…Great,” Stan mumbled.  He pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Look, Lute-”

              “Why didn’t ya tell me?” Lute interrupted.

              “Why do you think, Gucket?  You literally make costumes for heroes!  Your twin sister and her husband are heroes!  You’re so wrapped up in the hero world, I-”  Stan looked away.  “I knew you’d break up with me the second you found out I fight for the baddies.”

              “Now, ya can’t know somethin’ like that fer sure,” Lute scolded.  Stan looked back at him.  “Ya never know fer a fact how someone will respond to somethin’, no matter how well ya know ‘em.”  Lute gently patted Stan’s arm.  “Yer other one now.”  Stan silently held out his other arm for Lute to treat.

              “Are you gonna turn me in?” Stan asked softly.  Lute shook his head.  “Really?”

              “Stanley, we’ll need to have a lot of conversations ‘bout this to figure out where we go from here,” Lute said tiredly.  “In the mornin’, of course.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan warily watched Lute.  “You’re waiting until after we talk to call the cops, then?”

              “No.  I ain’t a snitch.  Worst thing I can see resultin’ from our chats is us breakin’ up.”  Lute’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.  He heard Stan’s breath hitch in his throat and knew they both didn’t want that to happen.  “Best thing is that ya quit bein’ a mask or even join Angie’s hero team.”

              “Not in a million years,” Stan said under his breath.

              “I figure what’ll happen is somethin’ in the middle.  I don’t know fer sure, but that’s my prediction.”

              “Why are you being so damn calm?” Stan suddenly burst out.  Lute paused.  “You just found out I’m the same criminal that broke your twin sister’s nose last month!”

              “And when she came over fer me to repair her costume, ya healed it up fer her without her even askin’.”

              “All the girlfriends and boyfriends I’ve had before, their families hated me.  Yours actually likes me.  Sue me for wanting to keep it going.”

              “Sure, that’s the only reason ya did it,” Lute said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  “Couldn’t have anything to do with ya actually likin’ her.”  He resumed tending to Stan’s wounds.  “To be honest, I’m not freakin’ out ‘cause it’s two in the mornin’.  Nothin’ good happens after two in the mornin’, so my goal is to get back to bed as soon as possible ‘fore I do somethin’ I regret.  And…”  Lute sighed.  “Stanley, I love ya.  I ain’t goin’ to lose my shit on ya when yer injured like this.  Ain’t right to kick someone while they’re down.”

              “I guess…”

              “Until we have our conversations and come to a decision together, though, I’ll request that ya stay away from my sister, her husband, and their daughter,” Lute said tartly.  “And ya can’t work on hero costumes in the shop.”

              “That’s fair.”

              “And yer sleepin’ on the couch.  Sorry.”

              “Honestly, when you showed up I thought I would be spending the night on the street.  I’ve got no problem taking the couch.”

              “Good.”  Lute gathered the debris from the various items in the first aid kit and tossed it into the trash.  He picked the kit up.  “Ya can go sleep now.  I’ll speak with ya in the mornin’.”  A pained look that had nothing to do with his injuries flashed across Stan’s face.  Lute knew just why.  They always kissed before bed.

              But I can’t kiss him.  Not now.  Lute left the kitchen, Stan still staring after him.  He dropped off the first aid kit in the bathroom and went back to the bedroom.  As he sat on the bed, his phone buzzed again.  He picked it up.  It was another text from Angie.

              You and Stan can still babysit Wendy today, right?  Lute’s chest ached.  He adored spending time with his niece, as did Stan.  The feeling was mutual; Wendy said constantly that Stan and Lute were her favorite uncles.  He replied with a heavy heart.

              No, sorry, something came up.  The response came back quickly.

              Oh.  OK.  I can ask someone else, then.  Another text made Lute’s phone squirm in his hands.  What are you doing up so late?  Go to bed!  Lute managed a weak smile.

              Only if you go to bed, too.

              Ugh.  Fine.  Night.

              Night.

              Lute set his phone back on the bedside table and laid down, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness.  Falling asleep without the white noise from Stan’s snoring was hard enough.  Falling asleep, knowing Stan was snoring in a whole other room, was somehow worse.

              Lute closed his eyes, but as he’d worried, sleep came slowly.

#Stute AUs are always fun but then it leaves me the task of deciding what to do with Angie lmao #(I think I was able to showcase what Angie's up to in this AU tho) #and yes! everyone has different powers than usual for my super AUs! #Superhero AU #Stute #Lute McGucket #Stanley Pines #my writing #ask #nour386

[aardvark-123]

~The Silver-Heart Chronicles Part 4: Who Follows the Follower?~

Yngvar was wanted for desertion. With impeccable common sense, he had decided to lay low in Windhelm, the capital city of rebel-held eastern Skyrim. He rented a bed in the New Gnisis Cornerclub, from where he took a few jobs around the city and tried a few delicacies from Morrowind and Solstheim.

Ambarys had been slow to trust Yngvar at first. "Oh, you're a Nord who felt so very bad about us poor, innocent Dunmer you just had to leave your special Stormcloak bigotry club, but now you're in trouble for quitting? How I weep for you!" he had declared.

"I wasn't expecting a pat on the head and a free sweetroll," Yngvar had assured him. "I just do what seems like the right thing to do. For the world or for whoever's around me."

That had mollified Ambarys a little. Yngvar's frequent food and drink orders mollified Ambarys a little more. Over time, they became something approaching friends, and Ambarys didn't even think of ratting Yngvar out to the guards.

Speaking of guards, they were easy enough to avoid. Yngvar's hood kept unwanted eyes off him most of the time, and running away every time a guard seemed to recognise him was a sure-fire strategy. For a couple of weeks, everything was fine.

Then Adelaisa found him.

Yngvar was strolling around on the docks when he heard a familiar loud voice. "Yngvar? Is that you under that hood?! Hey, it is!"

"Oh, not her... Not again!" groaned Yngvar. "Listen, Adelaisa, I'm trying to avoid unwanted attention-"

"I haven't seen you since Japhet's Folly!" Adelaisa went on, lifting Yngvar off the icy flagstones to give him a hug. "It's perfect timing, though, you showing up today. One of the dockworkers has lost her amulet of Zenithar."

"Haaaa... Has she? What a pity," groaned Yngvar. "I have business to attend to, so have a lovely day-"

"The amulet means a lot to her, but it's ended up in Stony Creek Cave somehow! I was going to try and fetch it," continued Adelaisa, talking over Yngvar without mercy.

"Well, I hope you have fun," said Yngvar. "I'll be here in the city, doing things."

"But since you showed up, we can go together!" Adelaisa confirmed what Yngvar had been dreading. "I could use some backup. People say there are bandits in Stony Creek Cave, rather like there are every cave, and they've tamed a dangerous creature as well. Sounds like fun, I know!"

"Adelaisa." Yngvar screwed his eyes shut. "Adelaisa, listen very carefully. I am NOT going to Stony Creek Cave with you and I am NOT slaying whatever the bandits downloaded from MihailMods this time! Forget it!"

"I knew you'd be on board!" smiled Adelaisa, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's head out now while we have the sun."

"Adelaisa! Adelaisa, listen to me!" growled Yngvar, chasing the swift-footed warrior over the bridge. "I'm not coming with you! I'm not going to Stony Creek Cave! Have fun! Goodbye!"

Adelaisa ignored him in favour of the spriggan who was asking for directions. "Witchmist Grove? We're heading that way ourselves! Why don't you come with us as a support fighter?"

The spriggan nodded in agreement.

"You're incorrigible, Adelaisa. Completely incorrigible," Yngvar panted as he followed her and the spriggan across the volcanic tundra. "I've made it quite clear that I will not be accompanying you on this trip, and you'll just have to live with that."

"You're right, adventures are always better with company," agreed Adelaisa. She stopped, looking up at the sky in surprise. "That's weird. Yngvar, have you seen a bird like that before?"

Yngvar's jaw dropped. "Oh, my gods. OH, MY GODS! It's a- It's a- It's- It's-!"

"What?" said Adelaisa. "An owl? An albatross, maybe? I've heard they can be quite large."

Yngvar stared at her. "Even you, Adelaisa- Even you can't possibly be that pig-headed! That so-called bird up there is clearly a &£$%ing dragon!"

The spriggan quickly took root and pretended she was a tree, although it was easy to hear her wooden knees knocking as the dragon swooped down. Yngvar and Adelaisa dove for cover, feeling the roar of its wings above them, and got ready to make their stand.

"Adelaisa, we have to split up!" shouted Yngvar. "You make for Stony Creek Cave! I'll see if I can lure it away!"

"No, Yngvar, I won't abandon you!" screamed Adelaisa, but Yngvar was already sprinting away across the tundra, a wall of fire pouring from the dragon's jaws behind him.

Somehow, some giants and a mammoth got involved.

"No, no no no no! Hold it! I'm as much a victim of circumstances as you were!" screamed Yngvar, running from the furious giant as fast as his legs could carry him. "And that helmet looks stupid!" he sobbed.

Eventually Yngvar made it to the woods. Battered and exhausted, he stumbled towards a little lake for some rest and relaxation. When he saw who was waiting there, he almost fainted.

"Yngvar!" cried Adelaisa, running over to embrace him. "By the divines, I was worried. That was such a brave thing you did, going to the giants for help, although Stendarr knows it was stupid to boot."

"Well..." Yngvar shifted nervously. "That's the kind of person I am, I suppose."

"I couldn't find you, but I had a feeling you'd try and get to the cave," said Adelaisa. "So I waited here, and lo and behold, here you are! Now we can get Shahvee her amulet back."

"You mean," Yngvar said in a small voice, "this is Stony Creek Cave?"

Adelaisa nodded. "Don't tell me you didn't know!"

Yngvar fainted.

Once he'd regained consciousness, Yngvar resigned himself to helping stupid Adelaisa fetch stupid Shahvee's stupid amulet of stupid Zenithar from stupid Stony stupid Creek stupid Cave. It didn't look like the most welcoming of venues; the usual bandit decor gave it a rough and unkempt vibe.

There was no shortage of bandits in the cave, but two factors played to our heroes' favour: the cave was narrow, and Yngvar had a crossbow. One by one the bandits fell until the stream ran red with blood.

"I wish they wouldn't throw their lives away so easily," sighed Adelaisa. "Whatever it is that drives people to a life of crime, don't they know there are other choices?"

"Ah, yes," said Yngvar. "Other choices. Take any job, risk your life in the civil war, risk your life as a treasure hunter, try to marry someone wealthy, be a beggar, be a thief... Am I missing any?"

Adelaisa fell silent, a worried look on her face.

Deeper into the cave they delved, finding more dangerous bandits at the ready. Adelaisa was proving to be a very capable warrior, able to hold enemies at bay with her sword and shield or strike from afar with her bow. She and Yngvar were a formidable team in the face of most opponents.

What they found at the end of the cave was not most opponents.

"What on Nirn...?" breathed Yngvar, staring at the translucent, cube-shaped creature as it engulfed and devoured its keeper. "Is THAT what the bandits tamed?!"

"It certainly seems that way," Adelaisa said worriedly. "One thing looks to be in our favour, though: it's clearly slow to move that much weight without any legs. Arrow time!"

They shot at the gelatinous cube. Eventually they got bored and went to finish the job by hand.

"Well, that wasn't so hard!" smiled Yngvar, wiping the ooze off his sword.

"Speak for yourself," said Adelaisa, who was dripping with the stuff. "You're right, though, we carved her up like... Like a, um, cube of jelly! Some sort of gelatinous creature in, say, the shape of a cube. What you might describe as a cube which is also gelatinous. A gelatinous cube, one could say."

"Mm-hmm." Yngvar nodded disinterestedly. "Weren't we here for an amulet?" He squinted down at the sad pile of jelly left behind. "I think it's in somewhere among that lot."

Adelaisa washed the amulet and herself in the waterfall, then she and Yngvar made their way out of the cave. On the way back to Windhelm, they got to talking.

"I was thinking about what you said," declared Adelaisa. "About bandits and their prospects in life. I know the world isn't a basket of roses, especially now, but you can always choose to do something better than mugging travellers and selling their things. You seem to be doing all right as a sword for hire, and the East Empire Company's been good to me so far..."

"The East Empire Company? I'm glad they're doing something useful with all the wealth that gets funneled out of Morrowind, High Rock, Skyrim and the other provinces." Yngvar sighed. "You do have a point. No-one HAS to be a bandit, strictly speaking. But for a normal person without an education or their ancestors' wealth, when no other opportunities present themselves..."

"You know, Yngvar, you really are a downer sometimes." Adelaisa sighed. "I understand what you're saying, but... There HAS to be something better than THAT! I wish it was... More visible to bandits, I guess."

"So do I," said Yngvar softly. "You know, not everybody can do the sorts of things we do. Although I will admit adventurers and company women tend to have the best clothing."

They reached Windhelm next morning. Adelaisa gave Yngvar a strange look when he tiptoed past the guards, who could clearly see him, but she said nothing.

Shahvee was polishing the tanning rack on the docks as usual. When Adelaisa handed her (Shahvee) her (Shahvee's) amulet of Zenithar (Zenithar), she (Shahvee) wept and thanked her (Adelaisa) profusely.

"I must confess, before I came into Zenithar's faithful I was a thief," Shahvee admitted. "I am not proud of the person I used to be. So as thanks for retrieving my amulet, Adelaisa, I'll teach you how to pick pockets and crack people's locks!"

"Thank you!" said Adelaisa. "I'll be sure to pass what I've learned on to Yngvar, here, as well. He was very helpful in the cave."

"By the way, Yngvar, thank you for coming," said Adelaisa. "I know I probably couldn't have kept you away once you heard how much that amulet means to Shahvee, but even so.

"...Er, well." Yngvar cleared his throat. "It's nice to make a difference."

"I know." Adelaisa smiled. "What do you have in mind now?"

"I'm afraid I won't be staying in Windhelm," Yngvar said quickly. "I'm going to move to a neutral hold, or failing that a hold which is nearby. Maybe Dawnstar."

"Dawnstar! I'm going there tomorrow to look into importing horker meat!" cried Adelaisa. "This is a perfect coincidence if ever there was one. We can go to Dawnstar together!"

Yngvar put his head in his hands.

"And I can help you get settled in!"

Yngvar started to cry.

"Do you want to head out now or wait for tomorrow?"

#Silver-Heart Chronicles #the Elder Scrolls #Skyrim #my writing #fun with pixels

[queen-scribbles]

I'm giving you a one-word prompt anyway, even if you *didn't* reblog it! "Oath" for whoever speaks up ;)

Time for prompts, now that tLBT is done and posted. :D Ves laid claim to this one a while ago, so it's an easy one to go first.

----

The dust motes floating through the air were a benign enough thing to focus on, instead of all the things she probably should but just couldn’t. Vesper sighed and shifted on the bed to lean against the wall behind it, still intent on watching the small golden specks in their slow dance.

If she focused on half the the things she should be right now, she might well go mad. The simple camp bed creaked under another restless shift of her position and Vesper smiled ruefully to herself. That was the rub, wasn’t it? One of the perils of being Legate; she never could completely shut off the problem solving aspect of her thoughts, the part of her that wouldn’t stop until it found a solution. No matter how much she’d rather watch dust motes.

The attacks on the Bridge caravans, Thélème’s research in the swamp....

Constantin’s disappearance.

She knew abduction was likely the more apt term, but just the thought made her gut clench. Bad enough he’d gone missing, sick as he was. The thought someone had taken him... It made her want to march over to the outpost infirmary and demand to speak to the surviving scout whether he was fully recovered yet or not. Vesper scrubbed at her eyes. She didn’t like this desperation, how it pushed her to consider actions she normally wouldn’t conscience to find her cousin. 

As if the universe had heard her thoughts, there was a knock on the door.

“You can come in,” she called, scrambling off the bed.

Kurt stepped into the room, nudged the door half-closed behind him. “Nurse says our scout’s beginning to stir.”

Despite being the very news she’d anticipated since last night, it still took half a moment for Vesper to process the words, and another for her heart to drop to her toes and bounce back up before she reacted. A distracted “oh, good” as she yanked on her boots, shrugged on her doublet, huffed loose hair out of her eyes.

“Green blood.” Kurt stepped closer and rested a hand over hers to still it as she fumbled to buckle her cuirass. “Breathe.”

The single word carried familiar master-at-arms sternness and she acquiesced almost by instinct. Deep breath, in and out, slow and steady to center herself. To think clearly.

“That’s better.” Kurt’s tone and expression were softer when she looked up at him, and he squeezed her hand lightly before letting his drop. “We’ll find him.”

From anyone else, and even her own thoughts, it would have sounded a hollow, hopeful platitude. Of course we’ll find him because the fallout if we don’t doesn’t bear thinking about. But the rock-solid certainty of his tone was equal parts convincing and comforting. She’d never known Kurt to make a promise he didn’t have every intention of keeping.

Vesper nodded, finishing the buckles with much steadier hands.

“We will, Ves,” Kurt said quietly, sweeping back her loose hair and letting his hand linger against her jaw.

“I know.” She leaned slightly into the touch, gaze locked with his. “I just... I’m worried about him. And... There are other important things waiting for my attention soon as we find him, and--”

“And we’ll handle them, too, but one thing at a time.” His thumb traced an arc against her cheek. “Constantin first, everything else later.”

Her heart stuttered at that we, voice soft as she murmured, “Thank you, Kurt.”

He nodded. “I swore an oath to protect the pair of you.” A small, wry smile, his thumb still rubbing her cheek. “Might’ve been more focused on you since we landed, but he’s still my responsibility as well. I care about and respect you both, and...” Something stormy flickered in his eyes. “...It wouldn’t hurt to show there’s still  some  honor left in the Guard.”

“Kurt...” Vesper reached up to cover his hand with hers. Several responses flitted through her mind, from the familiar indignation people would question his honor to pointing out he shouldn’t feel solely responsible for how people perceived the Coin Guard(and there were other good people there; Sieglinde, Manfred, Ulrich...) But they were pressed for time and she’d bet he knew her thoughts on the matter, so she simply smiled. “I’m glad I have you with me.”

“Always,” Kurt murmured, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Oath or no.”

Vesper smiled wider at the warmth the words set curling through her chest, knowing how deeply he meant them, and pulled reluctantly away to head for the infirmary.

She, too, had promised to look out for Constantin, she mused, fingers trailing through a swirl of dust motes on the way out the door, and she intended to keep that promise.

#queens fic #greedfall #vesper de sardet #kurt greedfall #ves/kurt #micro prompts

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@muselexum​ asked: 💋 //I present you the challenge of somehow kissing Mihawk

Everyone sending ‘💋’ in my inbox gets a kiss from my muse

A chance meeting between two Yonko should have been a tense, dangerous affair, but considering how it was Buggy and Shanks, it was hard to take it seriously, especially considering how Shanks kept laughing at Buggy’s attempts at insults and grandiose claims of superiority. Still, the Hearts wisely stayed out of it, preferring to sit off to the side and watch the petty fighting between two captains while ready to leave if it turned into an actual battle. Neither crew were their enemy at the moment, and Law would rather the Red Haired Pirates and Cross Guild take each other out than get involved directly if it wasn’t necessary.

However, Ikkaku had dared to sit at the bar next to Mihawk to get a front-row seat to the squabbling. Gramps had told her many times about the petty fights the duo had gotten into as cabin boys; over whether the north or south pole was cooler, exactly how old Barnabas the turtle was, whether or not Roger’s mustache was really his nose hair, etc. And of course the old smuggler had been an instigator in a few of those fights, to the point where certain crewmembers had dreaded seeing him cruise up beside the Oro Jackson.

Apparently, Ikkaku was starting to follow in his footsteps.

She’d lost track of what the original fight was about, as it seemed to divert into other grievances at the drop of a hat. But then Mihawk’s name came up, along with the question of who’s boyfriend he was. That had her eyebrows shooting up in intrigue, and she turned her head to find the World’s Greatest Swordsman pinching the bridge of his nose in clear irritation. She immediately had the feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with this particular spat.

“Hey,” the engineer chuckled, jerking her head over to the two Yonkos. “I don’t know what this...thing is you three have, but seems like they should really be asking you whose boyfriend you are. But since they seem a little caught up in their stupid argument, I’m happy to help you get their attention.” There was pure mischief in her eyes and her smirk made it very clear her intentions were to cause problems on purpose.

It seemed though that Mihawk wasn’t entirely opposed, as he merely raised an eyebrow and nodded mutely. She wasn’t sure she could classify them as friends, per say, but they’d run into each other enough over the past few years and seemed on friendly enough terms that she felt confident that he’d be ok with what she had planned.

So, leaning across her seat, she cupped Mihawk’s jaw and pressed a kiss to his lips, smirking when he returned the gesture. It was all for show, of course, but it did give her a powerful sense of satisfaction. Even more so when she heard Law groan, “Really, Ikkaku?” and a moment later sounds of shock and outrage from both Buggy and Shanks at seeing the dark-haired pair making out.

Mission completed, she pulled away, fluttering her eyelashes in faux coyness at her partner-in-crime. She wasn’t worried about either emperor coming after her; she was under Shanks’ protection and she knew for a fact that Buggy was terrified of her grandfather hunting him down. So, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, she leaned back in her chair, more than satisfied with herself. “See? All eyes on you now,” she giggled, wiping away a tiny smudge of lipstick that lingered on Mihawk’s mouth before going back to her drink, ready to see if the swordsman would actually put an end to the argument or stir the pot further.

Either way, she had the best seat in the house for it.

#muselexum #The Engine is the Heart of the Ship (canon) #Nocturne Blade (Mihawk) #Sanguine Emperor (Shanks) #Coulrophobia (Buggy) #(I too had been planning on involving Shanks in the kiss but after seeing yours Lexi I knew I needed to throw Buggy in there too) #(sorry Shanks but Ikkaku is very much following in Tomasu's footsteps of being a pot-stirrer) #(hope you enjoyed Lexi! sorry that I also controlled Mihawk a bit but it was worth it for the outcome) #(figured by this point Ikkaku would be less nervous about kissing Mihawk lol)

[elytrafemme]

hi i have listened to uhmm 1 adam lambert song i thin kcan't remember the title right now but it was really funn i love it ^_^ do u have.. any recommendations.. ? for more songs to listen to :O?

no idea why i saved doing this for now when i feel absolutely exhausted but im not sure what to spend my time doing so list!!! disclaimer im not very good at making recs so im just going to pick different songs that have a wide range of vibes and try to hit on each album okay yeah :]

runnin' (trespassing) - this song is the first song i have a clear memory of my older brother introducing me to so it's my nostalgia song. insanely fucking good. follows the adam lambert formula of a hardcore verse and then this kind of lift in the pre chorus <- not sure how to explain. also LOVE the bridge and in the last chorus we get some incredibly vocals from adam so this is a big fave

shady (trespassing) - VIBES ALL THE WAY DOWN. this song makes me bop incredibly hard, it has a super catchy beat. adam also does this amazing slides into notes in all the pre choruses that gives it that kind of 'jazzy' feel (the way that hitting accidentals usually do). this is just a dancey song i would say!

soaked (for your entertainment) - has this jaw dropping opener (jaw dropping for me bc we don't usually hear that kind of sound from adam's music) but is overall a pretty slow song! it's this gorgeous ballad i would say. i feel like out of all his albums this one has the most diversity in songs but that might just bc the transition from soaked to sure fire winners is IMMENSE

more than (take one) - this is one of his oldest songs and you can somewhat tell by the sound, has this kind of slow march narrative anthem kind of energy, if that makes sense. i feel like the majority of take one has this hopeful lifting energy and that's definitely in this one but it feels well earned

the original high (the original high) - CRAZY catchy, has this kind of constant drive in the background with the acoustic guitar and fast beat. i feel like this is one of the adam lambert classics, it's not only the name of the album but it just feels very pinnacle in a sense. maybe not the most interesting in terms of his experimentation but very good nevertheless.

after hours (the original high) - this is a more mellow one of his but what i love about his mellow music is it still has a drive to it (even feel something off of velvet has this kind of gospel effect); this one still has a damn good beat underneath even when the sounds are a lot softer and fading in and out.

on the moon (velvet) - this one had me hand over my mouth for a few minutes after listening. his voice is very soft in this one over the really neat beat (sorry idk how to describe background instrumentals and electro bits well). the chorus is kind of transcendant and the best comparison (the BEST not necessarily a good one) is a little like frank ocean but only sort of.

superpower (velvet) - GAY RIGHTS GAY RIGHTS. super fucking catchy, love the bass. bit repetitive in lyrics but his vocals r SOOOO good and the lyrics that are there are really good imo. i wouldn't call adam one of those artists with heavy metaphorical lyricism or anything, this is no the amazing devil that's for sure, but they're effective and good and he vocally nails it each and every time. it also has a bit of a choral effect in the later bits which he loveeees doing so if ur not into that maybe pass but i think it's kinda funky!

if i had you (for your entertainment) - what got me down on this whole adam lambert fixation today. one of the earliest songs i ever heard from him it's just. has a hard and rhythmic bass hammering into you, a little of a more darker pop vibe, where the lyrics in my blog title come from. it's just a fun vibe and the music video has a MAJOR FLASH WARNING but if you're able to handle that it's like. so so fun.

better than i know myself (trespassing) - i rec this song a lot to people so not sure why i didn't already mention it. the lyrics encompass a lot of the vibes of a lot of different adam lambert songs but this one is just. SO good. the kind that you sing out while sobbing i think. also his vocals are beautiful.

sorry for all the recs and iffy descriptions but ^_^ hope you enjoy!!

#nightmare.ask #nightmare.fave #long post #brackett tag :] #i mentioned feel something fleetingly but that's ALSO a good one

[bluandtherestlesshands]

Heartstrings

Chapter Twelve: Regret

For Mature Audiences

CW: “morning sickness” caused by pregnancy, emotional cheating if you squint??

“Settlin’ down isn’t really my thing, Doll.”

”Well, why can’t it be your thing??”

A month before Chisei joined Aizen. She had been having a conversation with someone who she treated as her boyfriend at the time. Shinji seemed to be combatting her every step of the way.

”Right, cause we can all just act like normal humans with their normal human problems.” The blonde scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Honest question, do you know what you’re askin’? The more you talk the more you sound like you’re on a completely different plane.”

”I’m sorry, but how is asking for us to be, oh I dunno, exclusive such an issue??” Chisei snapped. “You make it sound like I’m asking for a wedding chapel right here right now, when that’s not what I’m saying!”

”Sure, but then what? I promise you the world, then things don’t work out and you can blame me? I don’t think so, Babe.” Shinji said. “It’s not like we can get hitched anyway, and that whole ‘waitin’ til marriage’ thing is such a sham. You wouldn’t be ready to leave yer folks anyway.”

The short woman felt her jaw drop, like somehow he had heard nothing she said up to this point. She shook her head, an irritated smile painting her face when she put up her hands. “Alright. Okay. Wow, so… You really don’t care. Thanks.”

The man at first had no idea what he did wrong, until he saw the tears in her eyes. “Ah shit- Babe, I’m sorry I-“

”You’ve said enough, Shinji.” Chisei started to step away, “Clearly we want different things. We’re from two different worlds. You’re right. I was willing to bridge that gap, but… Guess I was the only one.” She turned and started to walk, tears streaming down her face. “The one time I get invested, gods, of course…”

”Chisei, wait-!” He started to run towards her, this was bad, he didn’t mean to hurt her.

”DON’T-“ Her voice broke as she spun on her heel, glaring up at him. “Don’t follow me. Just… Make it easier on both of us. Stay away from me…” Chisei swallowed the lump in her throat before she took off, not just running but sprinting away from Shinji who could only stand there and watch her.

In Karakura Town, Shinji woke with a start and shot up, “CHI-!” It took him a second to see that he was back in the warehouse, tangled up in his sheets, moonlight filling the room. He had fallen asleep in some jeans, but threw off his shirt in a heap he didn’t feel like taking care of. Normally he griped until Chisei ‘helped’ him do it, but it was starting to pile up.

Brown eyes scanned the room, then fell to the spot beside him on the bed. Some nights she would stay there with him, though it was squished on a full… He never intended on bringing dates back to their secret lair, but lucky for him she didn’t need much space… Only hands in appropriate places, with lazy morning makeouts in the first few rays of sunshine coming through the window. Sweet nothings exchanged before she had to leave for work, the way her fingers always seemed to slot perfectly into his.

Almost two months without contact was driving the man mad. Her family still had no idea where he went, she wasn’t answering his calls, and with the added layer of a romantic angle with someone else it made him feel sick. He looked over and stared at one of the records, still in its sleeve. One that she had gifted him when she got a raise at work, he remembered giving her some grief for buying him something on her ‘big night’ out celebrating. She was funny like that - it didn’t matter if the event was supposed to be about her, or her accomplishment, Chisei wanted to use her luck to show the people in her life she appreciated them.

”I don’t know where you are right now… Wherever it is, you better be safe…”

”Would you keep your voice down, she’s clearly not feeling good…”

”Should we go tell Lord Aizen?”

”He said it’s normal… Ginger is supposed to help with stomach aches right? See if we got any.”

”Right!”

”And keep your voice down.!”

Chisei began to stir and open her eyes, giving a small groan. She saw Coyote standing over her, he looked worried… for her? “Starrk..?”

”You’re awake… Are you feeling any better?” He crouched down to her level, his hand reaching out to touch her forehead. There was some hesitation before he touched her skin, for two reasons. The first one came with him taking off his glove with his teeth, the fabric was just going to hinder him. The second was, should he really be touching the Queen? “You started sweating, Lilynette was worried.”

”Mmm… Still feel like garbage…” Despite this, Chisei gave the man a small thumbs up which only seemed to concern him more. “I’ll be okay, I promise. It’s probably cause I haven’t eaten much…”

”What hurts exactly? Talk to me.” Coyote asked, “Is it your stomach? Something else?

”I’m nauseous, which makes my stomach hurt… Then I can’t eat which makes me more nauseous… And the more nauseous I feel, the more I want to throw up…” Chisei said, pointing side to side with each point. “Then I can’t throw up because I haven’t eaten so there’s nothing to do but sit here and hope it goes away.”

”…That’s all caused by a baby?” He said. “Why do women put themselves through that?”

”Some people find having kids and raising them to be fulfilling.” She said, but then followed up with a smirk and a chuckle before smacking her hand down on the beanbag. “I’m starting to question if it’s worth being this damn sick…!”

“Staaaarrk! We got some ginger tea! Should we try that?”

”Would you stop yelling!? Yes, try that.” Coyote shot an annoyed look at the girl, off in the kitchen, before turning to look back at the Queen. Aside from being sweaty and a tad pale, perhaps from the nausea, she still looked to be fine. “… Lord Aizen said you talked to him about me. Is what he said true?”

Chisei blinked at this before glancing away, still laying on her side. “… It is. I didn’t want to make things awkward, and of course there’s my relationship with Sosuke…” She admitted. “If anything, I was more surprised you don’t have other Arrancars here who are looking for something with you. You’re a very attractive man, Starrk.”

His breath hitched at that, and the hand on her forehead twitched. He didn’t want to do anything that could affect either of them, but the desire was there… In his silence, Chisei began to panic and ramble a bit.

”I mean, maybe in some other universe where things were different… It’s just not meant to be in this one here. Never mind attractiveness too, you’re a great guy in general. I can hold conversations with you, you’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

”Chisei. I think that’s enough.” Coyote sighed and took a breath, leaning over her. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, so she only kept her head down and relaxed, knowing she could trust him. The Espada stayed there, thinking about how things could have been different for him, for her. He couldn’t help himself in getting a whiff of her soaps, smelling something else on her as well… It may have something to do with her condition. Keeping his voice hushed, and knowing any eyes Aizen may have on them couldn’t see, he spoke to her. “I hope he is treating you like the treasure you are. If I had you… I’d make sure you never had a doubt what my intentions were.”

The woman stared up at him, him keeping that cool composure all throughout. Her face heated up at this, and he gave a nod to this.

”You must be feeling better. There’s some color back in your cheeks.” Coyote rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand, sitting down on a cushion next to her. “I don’t want to give Lord Aizen a reason to kill me.”

The woman shot up in surprise, huffing. “Th-That hardly seems fair, Starrk-!”

”Coyote.”

”Wh-“

”If you don’t want me to be formal with you, I’m returning the favor.” Starrk said, watching her reactions. She quieted down, taking a second to process that, before giving a nod.

”Hey Chisei, how is having this kid gonna work anyway? Aren’t you needed during the battle?” Lilynette walked back with a tray, offering the woman the piping hot drink. The Queen sat up as she took the cup, a fancy iron sort of mug… She sniffed the tea and already seemed to be feeling better.

”Thank you for the tea, by the way.” Chisei commented, then took a small sip. “The truth is, I’m not sure yet… There’s a lot of variables to that last battle, and Sosuke is still trying to figure out where I’ll fit into it… Or if I’ll be on the sidelines somewhere, or in a safe house.”

Lilynette set the tray down, hands on her hips. “What’s the deal with that anyway? Why wouldn’t you be able to fight?”

”Because I’ll look like I swallowed a watermelon whole by then?” Chisei said, then something seemed to click for the girl with that comment. “And… If I’m still like that during the battle, I would hate to be the one who tried to attack me. Can’t imagine Sosuke would take that well.”

”Well, yeah, it’s his queen and his kid!” The girl scoffed, plopping herself into a nearby beanbag. “Oh yeah! Have you two talked about any names yet?”

There was a pause when Chisei went to take another sip, she stopped to think of a way to answer then shook her head. “Uh, no. Not yet.” She said. “A lot of the conversation has been about making sure I’m healthy, that the baby’s healthy, and talking about check ups… Names haven’t come up yet.”

”Seriously? Nothing?” Lilynette groaned, “You two have a boring relationship. OW-!”

Coyote smacked her on the head. “Don’t say that to the Queen, you idiot!”

”I’ve heard more exciting stuff from other Espada and none of them have partners!” She griped.

”It doesn’t matter, don’t be rude!”

”… You’re right, though.”

Both of them turned to look at the queen, who was staring off into the yellow-orange liquid with a sad smile. Chisei thought back to the guy who made her feel safe and secure, before all of this… Before things took a turn in time for Aizen to make his move.

”Chisei I deeply apologize for Lilynette, please don’t be upset-“

”No, no. She’s right.” Chisei looked up and laughed softly, wiping at her eyes before the tears could escape. “When it comes to romance or anything, you expect to hear more about fun things they did together, funny gossip about someone doing something funny in a relationship… It’s nothing like what you find in a book.” She sighed and looked down. “Sosuke and I don’t really have that.” I had that with someone else and lost it.

#bleach #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #bleach oc #bleach original character #oc x canon #sosuke aizen #fanfiction #shinji hirako #coyote starrk #lilynette gingerbuck