#shit count my blessings it could be so much worse

[pallanophblargh]

I think part of me expected this burnout would last a long time, but it’s drawing close to a year now. I have a strong reason to suspect medications are prolonging it. Granted: I have no intention of stopping medication, but I suspect I may need to make some changes. It’s been nice not to feel burning rage/crippling despair/panic most of the time, but I also miss being able to actually... act on things! Start things! Feel some semblance of motivation, as fleeting as it is. Mostly my reaction to prompts of any kind are “nah, don’t wanna” or “so what?” which isn’t terribly conducive to anything more than day to day life. (Y’all, I can’t even reliably plan my vacation and that’s pretty terrible.)

I’m saying this in part as a sort of explanation as to why I’ve been so slow to respond to anything, or post any art, or even re-open commissions this past year. I just... generally can’t make myself do anything that isn’t a part of my daily maintenance routine. Knowing that making art (even personal art) takes 3x times as long to complete is a standout reason I’ve been refusing to reopen commissions especially, since I’d be unwilling to make clients wait more than a few months for even something as simple as a sketch. People were patient enough with “Old Me,” I don’t think most would hold out for “New Me.”

Thankfully I’m speaking to my doctor tomorrow regarding my experiences on the current medication, and maybe I can find something that works a little better. I feel like I’ve been pretty fortunate so far, all things considered, and my side effects have been fairly mild. (Though I have suspicions it’s also thinning out my hair something fierce... probably time for supplements for that issue!)

Hopefully I’ll figure it out sooner rather than later? Either way, I’m learning to accept things as they are these days. 

#April rambles #text post #mental health #medication #I know I'm one of the lucky ones but I'm still not discounting my aggravations #like yeah I'd like to think I should be capable of motivation #but at what cost? #and I never thought I'd care so much about hair loss but yikes I never had a lot of hair to begin with #wanting to cry anytime I see someone with a full head of thick hair #guess I'm kinda shallow after all lol #I have some beef regarding my other issues and suspicions but whatever #I can deal with them later #but I still find it hard to believe I've been assigned Just Anxiety instead of low grade well masked ADHD #Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh whatever #I'm a pleasant zombie for the most part are you happy? #I can't be arsed to do really anything are you sure that's just anxiety? #I'm literally masquerading as an apathetic potato most of the time now with meds so yeah ok sure? #we'll get there someday I hope #shit count my blessings it could be so much worse

[forever-rogue]

hi miss bee 🐝💛 would you pls bless us w more joel x wife!reader 👉👈

since it was joel being protective of reader maybe this time it can be the other way around where he comes home from a patrol and is slightly injured and she makes a huge fuss over him and then tries to o make him feel better through some sugar and spice 😋🫶

AN | Well, well, well how the turntables have…anyway, I love this concept so much! 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You paced around the kitchen as you waited for him to walk through the door. You’d already been waiting…and waiting and waiting. You’d done so much that you’d made enough baked goods to feed a small army; it was something to keep your mind and hands occupied. 

“Holy shit,” Ellie’s big, brown eyes went comically wide as she stepped into the kitchen and looked at the mountain of cookies and muffins and breads. You turned to face her with a guilty little expression on your face, “that is a lot of food.”

“I…yeah,” you admitted sheepishly, “I was going to go and give some stuff to the neighbors…I needed a distraction.”

“Joel?” she asked hopefully, her eyebrows perking up as you leaned against the counter and shook your head.

“Nothing yet,” you sighed, trying to keep all the bad thoughts and worries at bay, “I’m sure he’ll be back any time. Soon.”

“Of course he will,” she promised, wanting to keep you from panicking while trying to convince herself of the same thing. The truth was that she too was worried about how long he’d been gone. He should have been back two days - he was almost never late, “Joel’s a stubborn old man. He’s coming home no matter what.”

“He is and he will,” you agreed, “I just…I want him home.”

“Me too,” she confessed quietly, “me too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Long after Ellie had gone to bed, and you should have as well, you were still sitting on the couch. Waiting. After every couple of minutes, you’d look at the door as though you were somehow going to will him to come home. You’d read the same page of your book about ten times, but still weren’t fully sure what was happening. 

But then - as you were almost dozing off - you heard it. The unmistakable sound of the door being unlocked and then slowly opening. You tossed your book to the side and jumped, scampering to the door. When it fully opened you found yourself face to face with your husband. 

“Joel,” despite your best efforts, tears were rolling down your cheeks, ‘you’re home.”

“You’d never get rid of me that easily,” he smiled, a tired and crooked thing, “hi baby.”

“Oh my love,” you threw yourself into his arms and held onto him tightly, melting into his familiar body, and enveloping yourself in his scent, “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve been…”

You trailed off as you pulled and looked him over. You could see the grimace on his face, despite his best efforts. It was then that you noticed the bruising and cuts on his cheek. He could sense you growing worried and shook his head, “baby-”

“What happened?” you stood in front of him and reached up to take his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb over his cheek, “who did this? Where else are you hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, but he knew that you weren’t going to relax. That wasn’t your nature; you were caring and nurturing and always fiercely protective of those you loved, “I’m not that hurt.”

“I don’t believe you, Joel Miller,” you reached for his hand and gently pulled him over to the couch. You reached for the hem of his sweater and silently looked for permission to take it off. He gave you a small nod and you tenderly pulled off his sweater, and set it to the side. Your frown only grew when you noticed all the bruising on his left side, “what happened? I hugged - oh no. I squeezed you so hard. Did I make it worse?”

“I did this to myself,” he insisted as he reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I tried and fell - landed too hard on my side. Just a clumsy old fool.”

You huffed lightly - you were still worried. Nothing that he could say would change that, “has one of the medics or anyone taken a look at you? Are you sure-”

“I’m sure,” he tugged you softly towards him onto the couch and you reluctantly sat down next to him, “nothing permanent and nothing terrible. Just a lot of bruising and soreness and some cuts. I’ll be alright, I promise.”

“You know that I’m still going to worry,” you huffed, making a small sound of surprise as he shuffled you so you were perched on his lap. You delicately ghosted your fingers along his ribs, sighing softly at the lavender haze on his skin, “you’ll tell me if it hurts?”

“Of course I will,” he set his hands on your hips and gave them a gentle squeeze, “baby, let me just enjoy being back with you. Let me enjoy you.”

And you almost gave into him - almost. You wrapped your fingers around his wrists and shook your head. Your husband groaned heavily as he tossed his head back dramatically, “nuh uh, Joel Miller. Not right now.”

He was a good man through and through, so while he was going to be dramatic, he was going to respect your wishes. He sighed softly as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you melted under his reverent gaze, “I’m glad you’re home, my love.”

“I will always come home to you,” he promised and you knew it was true. It still didn’t mean, however, that you weren’t going to take care of him. Oh no; as long as he was hurt, you were going to take care of him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was fast asleep next to you, snoring softly and bundled up in blankets. You, meanwhile, weren't able to sleep and were sitting up and leaning against the headboard, an unopened book on your lap. You were too busy worrying about Joel, and if the extent of his injuries were more than he was letting on.

You'd made him take a long, hot bath before getting into bed, taking care of his cuts and scratches. There wasn't much you could do for the bruising besides be gentle with him. 

"Baby," he murmured softly, eyes still closed as he rolled onto his side, "sleep."

You couldn't help the small snort of amusement that escaped your lips. He knew you way too well. The book was tossed onto the bedside table as you turned the light off and snuggled up to him. He wasted no time in throwing an arm around your waist and pulling into his body. He could feel you tensing up with effort to keep from hurting him.

"Relax," he insisted through kisses pressed to your shoulder, "'m alright."

"Promise?"

"Swear."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You slipped out of the house before either Joel or Ellie were awake. You pulled on some clothes and walked over to Tommy Miller's house, going over the conversation you planned on having over and over again in your head. You didn't want to be over the top or dramatic but you also felt instinctively drawn to protect your loved ones.

You knocked on his door and rocked back and forth on your heels, trying to remain calm. When Tommy opened the door a few moments later you reached for his hand and pulled him onto the porch light. 

"Hey - hi- what's up?" He looked confused for a moment before noticing the worried expression on your face.

"What happened to Joel?" And yeah, everything you'd practiced in your head faded into non-existence. You sounded as hysterical as you felt, "he c-came home and he was hurt."

"It's okay," he put a hand on your shoulder and gave you a gentle squeeze, "I had him checked out as soon as we got back."

"He's -"

"A stubborn old fool," Tommy insisted as you couldn't help but chuckle at him, "but he's okay. The steps to the cabin on our route were slippery and he fell. He wasn't paying enough attention and down he went. That's all."

"And you're not lying to me?" You visibly relaxed when he nodded. At least now you had the reassurance that nothing was seriously wrong, "good. I know I probably seem -"

"Protective," he finished for you as you smiled softly, "loving. That's all."

"Yeah," you agreed, "thank you, Tommy. Thank you for keeping him safe."

"He does just as much for me. Besides, we're all family," he gently nudged your side as you laughed softly, "but you're welcome."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you made it back home, you heard commotion in the kitchen and were met with the smell of coffee and delicious foods. Your heart kicked into overdrive as you almost ran into the kitchen, expecting to find the worse but instead -

“Hey baby,” Joel wore a lazy smile as he looked at you from over the cup of coffee he was drinking while Ellie was busy making pancakes. You relaxed sightly at the sight of your family, “what’s wrong?”

“I…” you ran a hand through your hair in exasperation before shaking your head fondly at them, “Joel, you should be resting!”

“Hey,” his voice turned soft as he put his coffee mug down and stepped over to you and touched your cheek gently. You pouted at him, and if you weren’t so upset he might have laughed and kissed it away, “it’s okay, I’m okay - I’m right here. Please don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re all…bruised up,” you looked at him with big doe eyes and he sighed wistfully, “I don’t want it to get worse.”

“I know,” he promised, “I know it’s all out of love. I’m sore, but that’s all. It already feels better just being back home with you.”

“I like to worry,” you admitted as your face grew warm and he brushed his knuckles along your jaw, “I can’t help it.”

“And that’s okay,” he insisted, “I love you, baby. You know you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Or me!” Ellie chirped from the stove, a bemused little smile on her face.

“I love you yoo,” you went over to the young girl and gave her a tight hug which she pretended to abhor but you knew she loved it. You turned your attention back to Joel and gingerly hugged him too. Joel responded with a bone-crushing hug that had you breathless and giggling, “Joel!”

“It’s alright,” he leaned down and kissed you softly, stealing away all of your worries and fears, “promise.”

“Okay,” and finally, a real giggle bubbled up as you leaned up to kiss him in return, “I love you too, stubborn old man.”

“But I’m all yours, baby.”

“And I’m yours too.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

[euphorajeon]

taste your whiskey kiss | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff (?) | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying jk, oc still wont admit that jk is hot, jk is supposed to be a cs student, making out, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), this is plotless honestly i just miss boxer!gguk T_T

— summary: long-haired jeongguk is a menace. long-haired, glasses-wearing jeongguk is even worse.

— author's note: boxer!gguk is back at last! sorry for the (again) weird summary though. i wrote this in one sitting after that YTC in Busan episode came out and jeongguk blessed us with him wearing glasses :))) anyways. hope you enjoy!

— tags: @dunixxd

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Glasses?”

You look up to accept the peck your boyfriend gives you as a greeting while he hums a confirmation, the object perched on his nose knocking against your nose lightly. It’s sled down his nose so much that he looks like a grandpa from your point of view.

“Since when do you wear glasses??”

“Since my mom decided that putting my eyes five centimeters from my computer screen is not good for my sight.” Jeongguk’s hand moves to his nose to adjust his glasses. “She said my codes would never work if I keep mistaking commas for periods.”

You let out a sigh as he takes a seat on his desk chair, his computer displaying lines upon lines of codes you’d never be able to understand.

“You could zoom in, you know, instead of doing a staring contest with the screen,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Jeongguk spins his chair around just to give you a one-eyebrow-raise.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

The playful smirk he sports afterwards makes you roll your eyes, not getting why your boyfriend enjoys flirting with danger like that.

“Besides, I can’t see the whole code if I zoom in. Hard to see where it went wrong.”

“Yeah, keep making excuses until you go blind,” you frown as you look at his eyes behind the round lenses. “I won’t help you if you run yourself into a pole.”

Jeongguk shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s harsh, babe.”

“That’s your reality if you keep damaging your eyes.”

“Why are you suddenly so hostile? It’s just a pair of glasses.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his long hair, visibly getting frustrated with your elevated emotions.

“I don’t know!” Oh, you do know. “Just— get back to your codes. We can talk about this later.”

“I have something else to do later,” your boyfriend bites back with just as much fervor. “But sure, I can spare some time to talk to you about my glasses.”

He turns back around in his chair and you’re left to stare at the black wavy hair that curls around his nape as he types away on the keyboard.

Despite your denial earlier, you know exactly what got you so worked up like this.

It’s the same thing you felt when Jeongguk first showed up on your doorstep with piercings and a tattoo sleeve, the same thing you felt when he provoked you in the gym, the same thing you felt when he dyed his hair to your favorite color.

You hide behind worrying for his wellbeing when all you want to do is scream how hot he is to his face.

It’s truly unfair how your boyfriend manages to look so hot even in something as simple as a pair of glasses. A pair of prescription glasses at that, too. That combined with the long hair that frames his handsome face perfectly might just be the death of you. It takes everything in you not to pull him away from his coding assignment to tug at his hair as you explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your mind is reeling thinking that all of this is just because one single pair of prescription glasses. And the hair too, you guess, but it’s not like you haven’t experienced what long-haired Jeongguk is like in bed. (He made sure you know that he was a menace a few weeks ago when his hair only reached a bit below his ears.)

By now, you should be immune to whatever shit he’s going to pull, yet here you are.

Half an hour pass before Jeongguk stops typing and lets out a sigh, turning his chair around to face you once again.

“I can’t focus when I know you’re upset with me.” His tone is curt, like you being upset is wasting his time. “So talk.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come, then you blame me when you can’t focus?” you scoff.

“Didn’t think you’d get upset over my fucking glasses.”

“You’re only wearing glasses because you’re too stupid to think that exposing your eyes to such short distance to your monitor is not gonna damage them! You’re the reason why I’m upset!”

“Oh really? Isn’t it because I look too hot in these glasses but you have too much pride to say it to my face?”

You force yourself to sound firm in your one-worded response. “No.”

“No? As in you don’t wanna make out with me right now and fog up my glasses?”

“N-no.”

You’re wavering. It’s over.

“Okay.” Jeongguk shrugs. “I want to make out with you.” The stare he gives you is piercing. “So climb onto my lap and let me take those feisty bites I know you’re dying to give.”

It doesn’t take a second for you to leap off the bed onto his lap, crashing your lips to his in a mess of teeth and tongue. Feels like dejavu when you tug at his lip ring hard enough to make him let out a whimper of pain.

“Why are you so annoying?” you manage to say in between kisses. “If you wanted to make out you could’ve just said so from the fucking start.”

Jeongguk hums, hands on your waist to pull you even closer to him. “You’re more fun when riled up.”

You grab a fistful of his hair and yank hard upon hearing his reason. “Say that again and I’ll withdraw any form of physical intimacy for a month.”

“See?” He grins. “Feisty.”

“Fuck, just kiss me.”

He does, biting your lips and licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue you can’t help but moan. It just fuels him even further to tighten his grip on your body and steal all the breath away from your lungs.

“Should I— fuck— put on the tongue piercing?” he asks when you roll your hips against his, creating a delicious friction between your bodies.

“No,” you pant. “That thing is— wait.” You pull away a fraction when you remember his words from earlier. “Didn’t you say you have to do something else?”

“Make out with you.”

His lips chase yours but you evade them, confused. “Huh?”

“My to-do-list. For today. Make out with you. Nothing else.”

You let him capture your bottom lip between his lips to suck and chew on like a kid would to a jelly while you contemplate the meaning behind his answer.

Once you understand, you deliver a harsh bite to his bottom lip, making him hiss (in pleasure or pain, you don’t care.)

“Yeah, babe, hurt me with your mouth,” he moans, but it doesn’t last long as he pulls away with another hiss.

“Ah, gotta take these off though, it’s digging into my nose.”

He slips the glasses off his nose, a faint red mark from where it pressed too hard on his skin. You move to place a soft kiss against the flesh, a stark contrast to how you’ve been kissing each other seconds ago.

“That’s what you get for being annoying.”

“Your kiss? Yes please.”

“Shut up.”

He dives back in for your lips, but barely a second pass when he pulls away again, making you groan impatiently. “For someone who wants to make out with me, you sure are pulling away a lot.”

“Just thinking,” he says. “How about I put on the tongue piercing and eat you out until you beg me to stop? Last time you only lasted three, let’s make it five this time, hm?”

You give him six.

a/n: i haven't written in 4 months so i apologize that this is bad hehe. thanks for reading! any feedbacks here will be appreciated :D

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #bts college au #jungkook college au #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #boxer!jungkook #boxer!gguk

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Jessie's Sick Day

Fandom: Original Fiction Summary: A cold begins hitting Jessie at work, so he heads home to wait for his mate to get off work to come home and take care of him. CW: mess!! stuffy talk, cold sneezes, nose ring play? idk, accidental inducing, caretaking, fluff Word Count: 3,010 words MINORS DNI Author Note: bonus! 2 posts in 1 day lol i've been sitting on this one a WHILE but hey i actually do mean it this time with the mess warning like... i took out some lines while editing because i got anxious someone would see my mess warning and go "oh usually Bex isn't too bad!" and then go "oh fuck nope this is too much"

Ever since he’d woken up this morning, Jessie had felt just a little… off, like something wasn’t quite right. By the time his lunch break at work rolled around, he realized he really wasn’t hungry. He choked down his sandwich and baby carrots before dropping back resolutely into the receptionist’s desk chair. 

Jessie scrolled through what else he had to do today with his elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his hand. 

Every day for work, Jessie flipped his nose ring up into his nose to look more professional and then flipped it back down when he left for the day. It was simple and easy. Except sometimes it tickled his sensitive nose. 

“Ihh-kish! Kitch!” He assumed that’s all it was when he sneezed at first. But then came the runny nose. Worry began to creep into Jessie’s mind as he started to sniffle. He only ever got a runny nose when he was sick. “Shit…” He swore softly and carefully rubbed at his nose with a finger. 

He exhaled slowly and felt his eyes start to water as the tickle reignited with no trouble whatsoever. “Ihhiihh-! Iihksh! Kishew!” He sniffled against the wetness threatening to come out of his nose like a river. 

“Bless you,” Crystal, his coworker, said haphazardly as she tossed a box of tissues at him. They bounced off his shoulder and onto the floor. He pressed his finger to his nose and bent to grab the box before sitting back up. 

Jessie pointedly sniffled as he took out some tissues and pressed them to his face to blow and wipe. “Ugh. Thanks, sorry. Feeling kind of off… maybe I should go home before this gets worse. I don’t wanna infect you or anyone who comes in to get their teeth cleaned.”

Crystal raised her brows when Jessie said he was feeling off and gestured to the door. “Go on. Get. If you’re sick, get at least ten feet far away from me, Caddel.” She demanded and kicked his bag out from underneath the desk on her side over towards him, sliding across the floor. 

A dull pain starts in his head as Jessie bends to pick up his bag with a sniff. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going, germaphobe.” He teased and sniffled as loudly as he could just to be irritating.

“Ugh, gross!” Crystal whined and threw a wadded-up sticky note at him as he left the office. 

The bitter wind whipped through Jessie’s scrubs and coat, making him shiver and sniff thickly as his nose tried to run more. “Fuck s’cold-” He swore as he trembled, fumbling with his keys to get into his shitty Forester. The engine hummed to life finally, and he shakily made sure the heat was on full blast, revving the engine a few times like Hale had shown him. 

“Iihkshew! Kish! Iiihksh!” 

Jessie sneezed into his cupped hands and groaned, rubbing at his nose for a moment, which just moved his hidden septum piercing. It sparked the tickle back up again, and Jessie hitched all over again, “Ihhih-! Ih! Eh? IckShew! Iiishew!” 

Again, his sneezes caught into steepled hands, and Jessie groaned at the mess he could feel all over them. He quickly fumbled in his center console for some tissues, wiping off his hands and face with a liquid sniffle. He got out his phone next to send his boyfriend a quick text. 

Coming home early. Bring home Gatorade plz. Ily <3 – Jes

He threw the SUV into drive and sniffled as he pulled onto the roadway. The drive home was uneventful, save for some more sneezes that seemed to leave him increasingly congested. Overall, he felt relatively okay, just tired, a little foggy, sneezy, and congested. 

When he got home, he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and finally sat to take his boots off. He felt exhausted. He managed to get his coat and boots off before dragging himself to the couch, dropping down face-first into it with a groan. 

He sniffled and scrunched his nose, nostrils twitching before- “IikSHH! Ugh! Fuck me!” His grumpy shout was muffled by the cushions before he turned his head to rub his palm against his nose. “Mmf…” 

Hale… He wanted his boyfriend. With a grunt of effort, Jessie reached back into his pocket to fish out his phone and checked the time and his messages. There were no messages, and it was still five hours before Hale was set to get home. A soft little whine left him as he tried to wiggle back onto the couch, pressing his back up against the seat so it might feel like someone was holding him. 

For a moment, Jessie fumbled to grab a blanket off the back of the couch and managed to pull down the dark blue one. He breathed a sigh of relief as he gave a small shiver. Getting a fire started sounded like way too much work, and their damn cabin was heated by a wood stove. Usually, Hale was around to do it, and while Jessie could, he didn’t have the energy right now. He just wanted a nap. 

Once the blanket was all situated, Jessie barely blinked his eyes closed, and he was fast asleep, curled up under the thick blue blanket. Eventually, his head was tucked under the blanket to stay warm as the cabin grew colder when the sun set.

Jessie was startled awake with a yelp when the door opened and closed, blinking blearily as he peeked from his blanket cocoon at the intruder. “Hale?”

“Hey, sickie… just me…” Hale whispered softly, fumbling with his snow-covered boots before hurrying over to Jessie with his coat still on. What Jessie wouldn’t give to smell Hale’s sweet scent of fig, leather, and tobacco, but when he tried, all he got was a gurgling sniff. “Jesus, pup, you take anything yet?” Hale whispered after that sniff.

“D’no…” Jessie moaned, cringing as he heard his voice and whimpering again. “Just wanted you.” His nostrils twitched slightly, red and chapped as his nose had been running in his sleep. “Ihh-! H-Hale… godda- IiihkSHh!” He pitched forward into his hands to keep from spraying mess all over his poor boyfriend. Instead, it clung to his hands, and he kept them pinned to his face. “Oh, by god- that’s so gross… I’b so sorry.” 

Hale chuckled softly and ruffled Jessie’s hair before standing to move from the couch and grabbing Jessie one of the many boxes of tissues they kept around the house. What with Hale’s allergies and Jessie’s immune system, they went through more than their fair share of boxes. “Gross? You’re the one who is into this kinda stuff; don’t think I forgot.” He teased, tone soft and loving. 

“Iihpkshew! Ugh, it’s hotter when it’s you sdeezi’g.” Jessie pouts and cleans his face and hands up before slowly sitting up. The shift in position only makes his congestion shift, too. He’s quickly pressing more tissues to his face as he- “Isshew! Iksh! Hiish! EiiksHEW! Ngh…” He groans and gives his nose a tentative blow before looking up at his boyfriend pitifully. 

Finally, Hale seemed to be shedding his coat and then gently ran his fingers through Jessie’s hair. “Bless you… hey.” He looked at him with a slight frown. “Something’s not right here,” he said thoughtfully, frowning at his boyfriend as he realized something was different. “Hang on, where’s your nose ring? Did you sneeze it off? Is that possible?”

A surprised, congested laugh left Jessie, and he shook his head some. “D’no, oh sweetheart, d’no. I flip it up for work, rebe’ber? I guess I forgot to flip it dowd sidce I left early today…” He reached up to try to flip the jewelry back down but only seemed to instantly irritate his sensitive nose. 

“Iiihksh! Eikshew! Huh- eh-! Fuck…” Jessie sniffled and tried again, slower but with similar results. “Kishew! IkISHEW! What the fuck.. I cad’t get it.” He pouts, red and glistening nostrils flaring and twitching still. 

Hale nudged Jessie to get him to scoot back on the couch and straddled the more petite man. With Hale in his lap like this, Jessie couldn’t help but rest his hands on Hale’s impossibly muscular thighs. Fucking Christ, how did he ever get so lucky? he wondered to himself. 

“Hold still.” 

“What?” Jessie asked, blinking blearily up at his boyfriend, who was gently tipping his head back to look into his nose. “Hale, what the fucgk-“ 

“Just hold still, you big baby,” Hale said softly and carefully used his pinky to ever so gently fish Jessie’s nose ring down in one swift motion. 

The move still sparked the worst tickle Jessie had ever felt; his eyes watered, and he immediately pitched forward into Hale’s chest with unrestrained sneezes, “HihhISH! IisHEW! IishKEw! EhhkSH! EhhtkshEW! ISHHEW! Oh, by fucki’g god…” This time, a thick, gurgling sniffle came from Jessie, and he whimpered when he realized he’d sneezed all over Hale’s work shirt. A wet patch was left where Jessie had lost all control. “Shit. Hale, I ab so sorry. I’ll wash it. I probise.” He apologized quickly.

But Hale was just smiling down at him with a soft expression on his face. “You don’t have to do shit, Jes. You’re sick. Relax.” He said and flicked Jessie’s mess-covered nose ring playfully with the tip of his finger before pressing some tissues into Jessie’s hands.

“IiihkISH!” Jessie sneezed into the tissues after that flick and blew his nose gently. The sound of it was wet and satisfying. “Ass.” He teased Hale and sniffled just a bit. “Are you home for the weeke’d?” Some of the congestion had abated, and there was a note of hopefulness to his voice as he asked, knowing that sometimes Hale got called in for a weekend shift or two. If Jessie had it his way, Hale would stay wrapped up with him in all of their blankets, watching movies all weekend while they had tea and soup and hot, steamy showers. 

Hale nodded and grunted as he scooted back off the couch, his ranger uniform apparently not particularly comfortable for cuddling in. “I am, but let me go get changed first.” He stretched his arms up over his head with a groan. “I’m beat, and you need your Gatorade, sickie.” 

“Aw, you remembered?” Jessie cooed and rubbed at his nose, starting to wiggle out of his blanket a bit more, which caused him to shiver. 

With the blankets now down around his waist, Hale could see Jessie had gotten home and crashed on the couch. He was still in scrubs from the dentist’s office, not altogether bad for napping in. “I did. C’mon. You can have a few sips, then come get changed with me. Won’t that be nice? Get nice and comfy and in bed? I’ll even bring you soup.” 

Another gurgling sniffle came from Jessie as he took his boyfriend’s offered-up hand to stand up, his head swimming a little for the first few seconds upon standing. “Mmf- as lo’g as you start the fire add warm this place up I dod’t care where I lay dowd.” He admits before another more violent sneeze wracked his frame. “KISh-uh! Ugh, fuck, that ode hurt…” Thankfully, Jessie had managed to stifle, but now his nose was running again.

“Bless you, sickie,” Hale whispered. “For that sneeze and all the ones I’ve missed.” He added as he brought Jessie to the Gatorade, letting him sip it some before Hale just scooped up his boyfriend to carry him over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. 

A somewhat undignified and startled noise escaped Jessie as he was picked up by his boyfriend. “Just because you have the snf! snfff! muscle to do this does dot mean you have to!” He laughed a little and swatted Hale’s ass as he was taken upstairs, only to be gently laid down on the bed. Usually, Hale would toss him, but not when Jessie was sick. It was sweet, and it warmed Jessie, who had often been too busy taking care of his siblings all his life to really get a minute to look after himself. 

Something like a barking laugh escaped Hale and then quieted as he began taking off Jessie’s work clothes for him. “Why not? If I got the muscle, I might as well use it to take care of my poor, adorable, sick boyfriend.” He teased and tossed Jessie’s work shirt into the hamper before leaning down to kiss over his chest, even giving a little nip. His lips linger a moment to trace the scars just below his pectorals with delicate flesh. Then he tugged his pants off, swapping them for extra soft sleep pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt. 

Then Hale changed too, out of his mess-soaked work shirt and mud, snow-soaked pants and into his usual boxers and t-shirt. Bastard always runs so warm, Jessie thought fondly as he watched Hale lovingly. As good as Hale looked in his Ranger uniform, Jessie definitely preferred him like this… relaxed and comfortable and with so much exposed skin that Jessie just wanted to sink his teeth into.

“Jes?” 

Hale’s voice suddenly broke through the hazy daydream he’d been having, and Jessie looked up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “Hmm?” The soft hum only irritates Jessie’s already sensitive sinuses, and his eyes water, squinting while his nostrils flare just before he throws an arm over his face. “IikisshHUE! Huh… ugh, sorry, babe.” 

There was a concerned look on the taller man’s face as he reached forward to cup Jessie’s cheek and jaw. “Bless you, puppy. Let me go get the fire started and bring you some soup. You get comfy in bed and just wait for me here.” He urged the slightly smaller of the two, gently pushing his boyfriend back towards the headboard.

It didn’t exactly take much to convince Jessie, who quickly slipped under the blankets while the wind outside their cabin howled. It wasn’t a drafty cabin by any means. Hale ensured that, but temperatures outside still made the ones inside plummet if there wasn’t some kind of heat source. Even the hairs on Hale’s body were starting to stand on end. “Go on, h-hhhandsome. I’ll behave.” 

Without another word, Hale pressed a soft kiss to Jessie’s forehead and padded downstairs. His bare feet were quiet on their old, worn wooden floorboards. It was a good twenty to twenty-five minutes before Hale returned with soup as the cabin began warming up. “I brought chicken dumpling. It was all we had in cans, and I figured you just wanted to eat and get back to sleep. Not wait ten years for me to try and make soup.” His voice was light and teasing, but they both knew Hale wasn’t fast in the kitchen. The silver wolf had once taken a kitchen job, and Jessie remembered what utter hell that had been.

Some old vices had risen to the surface uncomfortably quick with how stressed Hale had gotten, and they’d both agreed that line of work just wasn’t for him. Cooking at home when he had the time to do so was just much safer for everyone involved. 

Now though? As the other wolf brought a tray to him in bed, Jessie could practically see his tail wagging at a job well done of caring for his mate. “C’mere…” Jessie whined softly, making grabby hands at his boyfriend, who agreeably leaned closer so he could press their lips together. 

Hale let out a soft, appreciative hum at the kiss and melted right into it. Though he did still keep it short, “You’re gonna get me sick, pup.” He warned softly and kissed the very tip of Jessie’s nose, igniting a tickle in the irritated pink appendage. 

“T-thought you didn’t get siihh sick…” That tickle turned into a persistent buzz. Usually, Jessie wasn’t quite so sensitive, but his nose was always overly sensitive when he got colds. “H-Hih-Hale… I’m gonna…” They were still face to face, and suddenly Jessie felt a warm, callused hand grab his chin to tilt his face up as Hale straightened up.

A quiet but deep chuckle left the blonde, “You gotta ask if you want a tissue, puppy.”

Another dizzyingly sharp inhale sucked in through Jessie’s lips and nose as he hitched, “C-Can I hhiih… have a tiiiIKSHiew! Oh- Ixxkshhuh! HiiiIKSHiew!” Warm mess sprayed against Hale’s wrist and arm, leaving Jessie mortified as he tried to snuffle back the mess on his upper lip.

“Bless you,” Hale whispered and snatched a tissue from the box on the bedside table to bring it to Jessie’s face, gently swiping away the mess. It made Jessie’s pink and sensitive nostrils twitch, but he gave his nose a rough rub once Hale backed off to try and squash the tickle trying to resurface so soon. “Thagks…” Even so embarrassed, he leans into Hale’s touches. 

“Welcome,” Hale murmurs in response before kissing Jessie’s hairline softly. “And good boy asking for your tissue.”

Warmth flooded Jessie’s chest, and he smiled at the praise and closed his eyes to relish in it. That’s when a warm arm snakes around him and pulls him down into the bed. A congested little gasp slips from Jessie as he’s pressed to Hale’s warm chest, and a shiver rattles him from head to toe. “Holy shit, you’re like a god dabd furdace…”

A little snort of amusement left Hale, making some strands of Jessie’s hair dance as the warm gust of air tickled him. “Perks of being me, s’pose.” He mumbles and then pauses to yawn wide, giving Jessie a little squeeze as he does. Then he tugs the sheets and blankets up over them both. “Get some rest, sweetpup. I gotcha.”

The promise was one Hale made often, and Jessie needed to hear more than anything. He was safe, home, and his boyfriend was holding him close. Even if he felt like shit, they’d get through this. They always did, and they always would.

#snz #snz kink #snzblr #snzfic #original snz fic #oc snz #oc snz fic #oc snz stuff #hale hawthorn #jessie caddel #cold sneezes #tw mess #stuffy talk

[cybervesna]

OC INTERVIEW

Thank you @olath124! You're literally a blessing cuz I really wanted to do it! 💜 Tagging: @sidver @ixov612 @wolv2077 @blackrevell @beesbee @petrichoryvr if you want to! Let's be honest, Wiosna would only answer these if she was under truth serum. Normally, she would just stare unapologetically at the interviewer without saying anything. And it doesn't matter if it was a scary interrogation or not, she simply doesn't care to answer. Well unless... there's someone specific asking her questions. So, what's your NAME? Be more specific. The one I'm known for? SPR1NG. The name that makes every 'runner at Arasaka shit their pants? ATH3N4. Name that I use on my documents? Wiosna Blazkowicz. Or perhaps, you mean the one I was born with that will make every Polish corpo-aristocrat bow to me? Wiosna Honorata Kochanowska.

Any NICKNAMES?

Spring. Wiosenka if you're my man or my babcia. [grandmother]

Your GENDER?

At birth cursed with the hardship of womanhood.

So Spring, do you know your STAR SIGN?

No idea what you need that for but I'm Sagittarius. If you're basing your knowledge on people on some astrology signs you need to get help.

HEIGHT?

176 centimeters. Oh wait, we are in America. 5'9 I guess.

And what's your ORIENTATION?

Man, twice my age that can make me worse. Specifically, the one that could crush my skull with his bare hands. The dangerous man that everyone is scared of, but I will still call him my good, good boy.

You're talking about someone specific, don't you?

Dunno, do I? *smiles*

Okay, next question. Your NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY?

Born and raised in Poland in the mighty Kochanowcy family. Although, my mother was half-Japanese.

Your FAVE FRUIT?

Cherries. My family owns land in a remote area in Poland that we... they use for summertime. There's an orchard with all kinds of fruits and cherries straight from the tree are the most delicious thing on this planet.

FAVE SEASON?

Spring, obviously. But back in my country, where the grass is green, and the trees soaking in flower blossoms.

FAVE FLOWER?

I have a preference for flowers with meaning. If my man gives me a bouquet of flowers, it's nice. But if he gives me a bouquet of red roses while also assuring me how much he loves me... Yeah, I will give him that head.

Ekhem... Anyway... FAVE SCENT?

Honestly, I want to say the perfume I use... But it's cigarettes mixed with fragrance my man uses. And I'm not saying that lightly, I fucking hate the smell of cigarettes.

Okay, what do you prefer COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE?

Hot real chocolate. Teuscher is the best, but Wedel tastes like my childhood.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP?

Assuming I care to count that waste of time? Definitely below what's humanly considered enough to survive.

Spring, are you a DOG OR CAT PERSON?

Both, actually. Pure and innocent souls that always try to heal the deepest wounds of our twisted minds. Too bad they can't understand we are rotten to the core and there's nothing to save. Still love them for it.

DREAM TRIP?

Sometimes I dream of going to the land of never going back. There's a person who would be mad at me for doing it, and I don't like when he's angry with me... or sad.

No comment on that. Next, FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER?

Darth Vader. God, I want to be loved the way Padme was loved. I want to be loved so, so much that it will make my man go insane at the idea of me being gone. I want to be loved so much that when I'm gone, my man will make it the problem of the whole universe. [Author's note: She is loved that way, and my headcanon is that Phantom Liberty and the "change of Kurt's plans" So Mi talks about is a testimony to it.]

I see. NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH?

The fuck is this question.

Nevermind then. RANDOM FACT?

Kurt wears boxers with NUSA flag. Wiosna what the fuck, you didn't had to say that I'm literally the one wearing them. Yeah, but your boys didn't know.

#wiosna blazkowicz #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 phantom liberty #cyberpunk 2077 oc #my oc #vesna blazkowicz #cyberpunk 2077 fanlore #cyberpunk 2077 headcanon #phantom liberty #cyberpunk oc #phantom liberty oc

[c0ffinshit]

Our Own Meet-Cute (Adam Sackler x Reader)

A/N: i had the best time writing this and i hope y’all enjoy as much as i did. warning, its cheesy AND corny as hell. sidenote, i have a side project i’m working on that’s a bit different... but you’ll love it (trust me)

word count: 1,145

warnings:  fluff, drunk fun, reader is a huge drunk bitch, adam is giving daddy vibes

Last night, Jesus, what could I say without self-censoring myself? I went out again, unsurprisingly, with a few of my girlfriends. Maybe the quarantine was starting to get to me. Honestly, I was beginning to go a little stir-crazy after having to do work on a computer. It's worse when you know that my boyfriend of five years broke up with me before I went out with my friends. And on Valentine’s Day, too, he sent me a texting saying that we needed to break up because I wanted to meet his parents. Sure, Hannah tried to comfort me as I basically whined and bitched the whole night. But she failed at that as I would cry harder into my drink, whaling about how much I would miss him. We left the club after about twenty minutes of being in there. I was having the worst night of my life, and then Hannah told me she had the perfect guy for me as my rebound.

"Who do I look like, Scott motherfucking Pilgrim?" I stepped over my own feet as we walked to what I assumed was his apartment. "I don’t need some stupid younger guy to suck my clit to make me feel better. I want a man, Hannah."

"Jesus, you are drunk." She said under her breath as she helped me up some stairs.

I will say this: I wasn’t wrong in saying what I wanted. Boyfriends and girlfriends would come, go, and some never even returned. I couldn’t tell if it was a ‘me’ problem or a ‘them’ issue. I may be a self-centered dipshit, but at least I can admit that. Hannah, bless her heart, continued to help me up the stairs and onto the man's front door. She knocks on the door gently, still propping me up with her body.

"Is this the man of my dream’s front door? It looks like shit-" I begin to bitch again when I finally get a glim of the man.

"Hey, Hannah." The man said, his forearm resting against the door frame. His dark hair fell neatly on his broad shoulders. He loomed over us much like a redwood tree in a forest would. Hannah gave him a look, I couldn’t tell what it was trying to say, but I knew it was like: Take care of her, or I will cut you.

The man takes me in, wrapping my arm behind his neck. We walk into his apartment, well he dragged me, but that’s close to walking. He threw me into his bed and walked into his kitchen.

"And who are you, kind stranger?" I slurred out, my body squirming around on his bed.

The man did not reply. I thought to yell out my question again, but the softness of his bed kept me distracted. It smelled of old sweat, which felt oddly comforting. The man walks back into the room. As he walked back in, I noticed a bottle of Gatorade in his claw hand. I begin to sit up, but I fumble slightly.

"Hey, kid… it's the only Gatorade I have. So, drink up." He said in a soft, parental-like voice.

He hands me the blue Gatorade, electric blue. I take it gingerly, praying that he won’t drug me.

"I’m Adam." Adam said, sitting down next to me. That name… rings a bell.

"Aren’t you that guy Hannah’s  fucking?" I said bluntly, struggling to open the cap in my drunken state.

Surprisingly, Adam isn’t phased by my question and replies: "Yeah, how did you know? Are you and her friends or something?"

I nod, and Adam takes the bottle from my hands, opening it for me.

"I could’ve done it myself." I mumble to myself.

I silently drank the Gatorade as Adam’s eyes encouraged me to keep going. Adam’s body had this energy to it. I couldn’t explain it.

"Does Hannah talk about me often with you? I don’t care if she does, but I’m curious."

Hannah, in my drunken state of mind, was annoying. She was overbearing and cared more about how she felt in a given situation instead of the other people affected. And Hannah was never home, even when Hannah told us that she would be. But Hannah is my best friend. At least, I thought she was my best friend. I couldn’t stand her because she would always be out with Adam or at work. But that night, I understood why.

"Yeah. I mean, not a lot, but enough."

Adam places his hand near mine. He was taking an interest in me. At least, that is what I thought. Maybe he was trying to sober me up so he could sleep with me. From what Hannah told me, that wouldn’t be a shocker. I move my pinky slightly, slowly moving to his claw. Maybe this was our moment, our own meet cute. I didn’t have to drop anything either; all I had to do was get drunk and go out with a friend I hated. Adam felt nice to be around.

"A part of me wants to stay like this… just us." I thought aloud.

Adam looked at me for what felt like the first time. It didn’t feel forced or sappy; it felt like us in a moment together.

"Why do you say that?" He said, replying to my thought.

"I don’t know," I snapped, "it just feels right. It feels fucking good."

He looks back to the floor, debating whether or not to get up from his seat on the bed.

"Don’t," I whispered.

My body started to sober up, thinking a lot clearer. I knew that Hannah must’ve not been thinking clearly. She just wanted to drop me off. So she could hang out with her other friends. I wanted to feel betrayed and upset, but I couldn’t help but enjoy my time with him. Sure, we haven’t spoken with each other, but something drew me to him.

"Do you want to hear something?" Adam asked, looking back over at me.

Next, I did something that I’m not quite sure I regret. It happened so quickly that the moment it was over, neither of us didn’t have time to react to it. I got closer to Adam and suddenly gained confidence that only drunk me had.

"Yeah." I whisper, trying to be seductive.

Adam didn’t seem to pick up on my seduction. Looking at me blankly, he cocked his head to the side.

"Okay, this lady who stays outside my apartment—Hannah might have seen her when dragging you in. She’s the one with the long black hair and the purse. So the other day-"

He went on like that for fifteen minutes. The story wasn’t funny or exciting, but his speaking made it sound like the most vivid story. It felt like I could listen to him for hours. But I didn’t.

#adam driver #girls hbo #hbo girls #Why do people like me #adam driver x reader #adam sackler #adam sackler x reader

[ofsinnersandsaints]

“Okay, one: how do you have that picture, and two: why is it your lock screen?”

Your Picture in My Pocket

rating: G word count: 1502 one-shot

AO3

It was truly surprising, and perhaps a little worrying, how often Lucy and Tim found themselves in the hospital.

This time it was Tim’s turn to be in the hospital bed while Lucy kept vigil. She’d sent Genny home a while ago to get some sleep and remind her kids what she looked like. Lucy promised to text Genny the moment Tim so much as breathed differently.

But right now he was sleeping off being hit by a car and the subsequent surgery to fix a broken leg. He was going to be pissed when he woke up and found out he was going to be desk-ridden for the next few months.

As the night fell outside, Lucy stretched out on the couch with a hospital blanket and a stolen pillow.

“Lucy?”

She shifted on the couch, hadn’t realized she’d even fallen asleep, and looked over at Tim who was watching her from his hospital bed. “Morning.”

“What happened this time?”

“Someone tried to run you over with a car,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. “The car hit your hard head and was totaled.”

Tim snorted, “I remember a shit ton of pain.”

Lucy tossed her blanket aside and got up, completely not caring what she looked like. Tim had certainly seen her worse. “Your leg was broken in two places, they put it back together with steel and some screws.”

“Fuck.” He leaned his head back against the pillows. “How long?”

“Three months, at least. And lots of physical therapy.”

“Fuck,” he repeated. “Where’s Genny?”

“Hopefully home sleeping, I kicked her out around midnight.” Lucy sat down on the bed next to Tim’s good leg, but still careful not to jostle him. “I did tell her I’d call her if you woke up.”

Lucy reached over to the bedside table where she’d been charging her phone, but Tim stopped her with a hand on her wrist. Her eyes darted up to his, her breath catching a little at the look in his eyes. She couldn’t quite name it, but it caused her heart to stutter behind her ribs.

“You stayed here all night?”

She smiled and tried to keep her voice normal when all it wanted to do was go breathy with nerves. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? I get kidnapped and buried alive, you stay in my room all night. You get hit by a car, I sleep on the couch.”

His thumb rubbed against the inside of her wrist and she attempted to will her heart beat to slow down. “You didn’t have to.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” she assured him and grabbed her phone. She unlocked it and found Genny’s phone number. “Talk to your sister.”

Tim took the phone and Lucy got up to give him the pretense of privacy. She stared out the window as Tim talked to Genny in low tones, but she could hear him assuring her and promising him he was fine and in good hands.

Lucy’s shoulders blade itched, because something about those words made her feel as if he was talking about her rather the hospital.

“Lucy?”

Figuring the conversation was over, Lucy turned back to Tim only to see him staring at her phone with a furrowed brow. “What? Did the phone drop the call?”

Tim shook his head and turned the phone to face her and her stomach dropped because she’d forgotten the picture she’d had saved on it.

“I have so many questions, but one: how do you have this picture, and two: why is it saved as your lock screen?”

Lucy could feel her cheeks flaming and hoped the dim hospital lighting was at least hiding her embarrassment. Months ago she had teased Tim about making a picture of him as her lock screen, and she had kept for months afterwards, and then she’d come across a picture of Tim on the internet from his military days. Apparently he’d been some kind of boxer in the army and some God-blessed person had taken a picture of him mid fight.

In the picture, Tim was shirtless, sweaty, and had a look of such focused concentration it had given Lucy sexy dreams for days afterwards.

“Oh, that,” she tried to laugh but was fully aware how nervous and awkward it sounded. “Well, Jackson had heard you used to be a boxer in the army, and after a couple glasses of wine we thought we should see if there were any pictures online.”

“And you found this.”

“It was on an old army newsletter site, I think. We were at the bottom of the bottle at that point,” she added as an excuse.

“Okay,” he nodded and looked from the phone back to her. “And the reason it’s on your phone?”

“If I tell you again how I drunk I was, can we leave it at that?” she negotiated.

“No.”

Lucy laughed because his answer was so deadpan, with just a twinkle of humor at the corner of his eyes. “I was drunk, and it was Jackson’s idea to save it to my phone as my lock screen. It seemed like a great idea at two in the morning.”

Tim nodded and began to put the pieces together in his head and she really wished he wouldn’t. “How long ago was this?”

Lucy thought about lying, but he knew her too well and he’d see right through it. “Two weeks ago.”

He huffed out a laugh and handed her back the phone. “I guess I should be glad you’ve got a picture from ten years ago instead of now.”

With a scoff, Lucy took her phone back. “Please, if I had a half naked pictured of you now, it would be my lock screen forever.”

They both seemed to realized what she’d said at the same moment, their eyes colliding with such force it was a physical thing. They should definitely not being having this conversation now, he was probably still a little high from the drugs, and she was exhausted from trying to sleep on an uncomfortable couch.

Lucy rubbed her forehead, looking down at her socks. “I should probably let the nurse know you’re awake. They’ll probably want to ask you questions or something.”

She was fully aware there was a button on his bed which would call the nurse, but she needed an out. He let her walk three steps away before saying anything. “It’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”

Lucy froze in her tracks and slowly forced herself to turn around. “What is?”

“You’ve got this picture of me on your lock screen, but I don’t have one of you.”

“That’s true,” she agreed as she twisted her moonstone ring around her finger, her dumb heart catching in her throat. “I’m sure I could find something which would make things…fair. Your phone’s broken though, so you won’t see what it is until you get a new one.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “No rush.”

Four days later, Lucy walked into Tim’s house with a tupperware full of food and wearing her walking shoes.

It was her turn to take Kojo on his evening walk and she’d been doing an absolutely amazing job of avoiding being alone with Tim. Thankfully, when she opened the door she could her voices coming from the kitchen and she wouldn’t have to face the consequences of sending him one of the sexiest pictures she’d ever taken of herself.

She heard the click-clack of Kojo on the hardwood floors and bend down to greet him. “Hi! How are you? Are you ready to go outside?”

Kojo’s response was to sit down and wiggle his butt with excitement. “Good boy!”

Lucy was petting Kojo’s ears when she felt Tim’s presence in the room. She looked up to see him standing on a crutch. “Were you going to say hi?” he asked.

“Yes, I just have priorities,” she smiled at him. “Can I fill up my water bottle?”

“Be my guest,” he nodded back towards the kitchen where Lucy saw Angela and Genny were laughing around the kitchen island.

Lucy greeted the two woman and filled up her water bottle as they talked about a bet. It sounded like they were betting how long it would take for Tim to lose his mind on desk duty.

As she screwed the top back on, Tim leaned against the counter and very intentionally set his phone down in front of her.

She looked down at the lock screen and saw her own picture staring back at her.

It had been taken last year when she’d been feeling especially good about herself; she’d been lying on her couch and her tank top had shifted to show hints of the lacy bra underneath. It was nothing particularly pornographic but Lucy had always thought the picture was incredibly sexy.

And now Tim was walking around with it as his lock screen.

Lucy looked up from the phone to meet Tim’s gaze and there was an intensity there she hadn’t expected or been prepared for. She gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself.

“I’ll see you soon,” he asked and Lucy knew he wasn’t talking about coming back with Kojo after his walk.

She nodded slowly, “I’ll see you soon.”

#chenford #the rookie #chenford fic

[asimplearchivist]

𝓒𝓗. 𝓘 — [𓅘𓏏] (‘𝓷𝓗𝓽’ | 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓻, 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu hasn’t blessed a child’s conception in centuries. a sincere young woman afflicted by unfortunate circumstances manages to turn his head. pairing ☽ khonshu/singlemom!avatar!reader word count ☾ 9.4k a/n ☽ [header credit] ⤏ um...hello. not me sliding into the pigeon-fucker category at light-speed after hearing his voice the first time. (lying. it’s totally me.) ⤏ this fic was inspired by half-asleep musings at how khonshu would interact with a child, and it quickly devolved from there into a series of vignettes that has given me much more serotonin than a literal mummified birdman should ever have the right nor ability to. ⤏ he’ll definitely be ooc but that’s only because this is the version of khonshu that lives rent free in my brain. (also I promise this ri is not a crybaby. just a lot of shit happens at first and it gets a lot worse before it gets better. plus hormones are a bitch.) ⤏ enjoy. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

Khonshu did not typically observe mortals with whom he had no direct interaction; his avatars were normally the only ones to whom he would speak, and he was invisible to the rest of humanity without expending precious energy to project himself fully into the physical realm. It was easiest on nights when the moon was fullest—but even still, doing so cost power he could scarcely afford to waste, given his separation from the rest of the Ennead and their shared domain. He mostly turned his attention to more important matters than the mundanity of common people who did not need his protection.

Not many mortals, especially outside of Egypt, knew about the Ennead in the present day, and even fewer knew about himself and what he represented—a comparatively microscopic fraction of those actually believed in the Ennead anymore outside strictly academic study, as advanced as their science and reason had become in light of faith towards the intangible powers that were. Thus Khonshu received very little power from the mortals themselves; it was partly why his semi-coalescent state appeared as deteriorated as it did. Relying upon the moon from which to draw his power was taxing at best, and the lack of devotion certainly didn't help.

Threads of dedication bound him to those precious few who did indeed call upon his name for the blessings he offered—protection was the most common, as scarce as it was, and vengeance often spurred him (and thus his avatar) to immediate action when his devoted faithful were wronged in any way. The tethers remained dormant most of the time and Khonshu was quick to address them whenever they did reawaken. New threads would appear occasionally, usually in the passing down of tradition from a parent to a child.

It was this reason that made the prayers of the faithful—even those ignorant to their intentions—that much more potent. It gave him an influx of power that he could scarcely contain, lasting for days at a time. Even passing, thoughtless, lofted pleas for assistance with no specific designation towards their recipient caught his attention. Often he blessed them because no other lunar deity would, too prideful to lay claim to the nameless, half-minded prayers. Khonshu had little other choice.

It was in this way that he found you—by pure, unanticipated happenstance.

The whisper tugged at him, nudging against his greater consciousness like the brush of a hand along his spine. The night was waning, the moon was beginning to descend as the sun caused the edges of the horizon to blush, and his avatar trudged through the balcony entrance to collapse face-first, already half-asleep, into the rumpled bed. The armor dissipated with the quietest susurrations of gauze over flesh, and that designated portion of Khonshu's power returned to him in a steady trickle. He ignored the sound at first, forcing the sliding glass door shut and locking it with short, pronounced gusts of air—this human would get killed from negligence, he knew, due to insufferable forgetfulness. It would serve Khonshu little good to have another avatar die so soon after the last, and this neighborhood wasn't the safest.

The weeping was what turned his head.

Plaintive, sincere heartache thrummed along the link steadily winding around his inner being, like white flaxen thread, coiling tighter and tighter until Khonshu could no longer ignore it—not quite sound, but vibrations that resonated like the echo of the more acute feelings stifled by distance. It was a fist lodged inside his chest, clenching, unyielding even while shaky, measured breaths passed through a clamped throat.

Khonshu slipped out of his tentative, semi-physical state, leaving his avatar to sleep the precious few hours before the day's work would begin, and followed the inexorable draw all the way across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. London stood tall and winked in the clinging dark, midnight cast in a silvery hue from the moonlight streaming down from between the murky, gray clouds. The crescent moon was nearly spilling with light, full in its glow. The majority of the city was sleeping, but he could sense the nocturnal portion of the population still active in different pockets. Khonshu descended where the thread grew taught, settling upon the roof's edge of a hospital's side building, knee propping the arm curled around his staff as the other leg dangled. Ambulances wailed at his back closer to the reception for the ER and EMTs shouted at each other about the unfortunate victim of an automobile accident, but he paid them no mind. The perpetrator had been negligent, and those inside the opposing vehicle he'd struck with his own were only mildly rattled.

Out in the parking lot of the laboratory, the streetlights scarcely illuminated the scarce amount of vehicles scattered around the tarmac. He tipped his head down to peer into a vehicle that looked too old to be road-worthy, the paint faint and peeling, the tires bald and dry. He sat at such an angle that the driver's arms and lap were plainly visible, but her face was hidden. He focused on her trembling hands, the crumpled sheet clutched in her fingers and the teardrops dampening the paper, and leaned forward. Her shoulders were wracked with sobs that rippled through the tether, one golden-ringed hand lifting to smother the sounds he could only feel spilling from her clenched jaw.

No words were uttered—couldn't be, with the intensity of emotion gripping the young woman—but Khonshu could feel the crests of the tumultuous thoughts inside her mind. Typhoons of grief, cyclones of despair, and shockingly potent spearpoints of self-hatred crested and crashed, making her shake in their wake. He could sense the source of her hysteria without any degree of difficulty, as an image of the hospital's nursery filled with swaddled babes sleeping under warming lamps reared embittered and vile like a viper's bite in the back of her mind.

Her crying intensified in response, unadulterated want squeezing her from the inside, and Khonshu slipped off the edge of the roof to rest on the windowsill one story down to get a closer look.

'Test results negative.'

Ah. Khonshu laid his staff across his lap, arms folding over his thighs. He skimmed through the young woman's immediate memories, humming quietly to himself at the flashes of matrimony, of flying overseas, of making a home. Her husband wanted children more than anything, and she wanted to give them to him—today marked two years of continuous trying. Troubles in her marriage had festered to a breaking point in that time—a rotten combination of occupational complications, interpersonal tensions caused by perceived envy, and constant disappointments—and she was terrified of the looming outcome of the results for this "one last try".

Khonshu watched as she wiped the sticky trails of tears from her cheeks, sucking in a series of deep breaths in an attempt to control her emotions. She folded the damaged sheet carefully, tucking it into her purse in the passenger seat, then turned the key over. The vehicle sputtered and smoked and refused to start.

God, he felt, a punch right to his gut. Can this night get any worse?

Khonshu sensed her pain. A long, unforgiving day in the maternity ward, assisting new mothers in birth, filling in for vacancies made by other nurses who failed to arrive for their shifts by working late into the evening. The nursery used to be her respite, her haven of quiet and calm, but the jealous, caustic streak that had long grown lodged under her rib worsened it all. Receiving the blood test results from the sympathetic, knowing laboratory technician after clocking out had sealed the sarcophagus, so to speak.

He had dealt with many ailing, aspiring mothers throughout time. He had stimulated livestock to produce in times of hardship, and he had promoted many births for just, sincere couples desiring families—countless babes were conceived on nights like this one, with bright crescent moons, many of whom had been named after him in gratitude. It was an ability that had always delighted Tawaret to no end, and she had always thanked him profusely for his contributions—but that was before his banishment. He hadn't much cared for the sponsorship of new lives when so many of them grew up to incur his wrath, and what kindness and mercy he'd once had was limited. His exuberant efforts to better the mortal’s lives had reduced him to a shell of what he'd used to be, and though he still dedicated his existence to protecting the innocents, he had little tolerance for anyone else.

This young woman, however…

Khonshu's fingers tightened around his staff, watching her drop her forehead against the steering wheel and let out a short, shrill shriek of frustration—this he heard, piercing his skull and resonating like a broken, plucked string. He winced and slipped from the building altogether to approach the vehicle in a slow, cautious stride.

The bags under her eyes were startling, dark against the otherwise healthy tone of her skin, and the red streaking in her sclerae proved how long she'd been upset—held tightly in the base of her throat until she'd enclosed herself in the semi-privacy of her vehicle. Her knuckles were white around the steering wheel, her face scrunched into a pitiful, agonized expression.

She was a protector and a healer of those most vulnerable in the night, often taking the late shifts to monitor the health of her newborn charges, as well as their weary, recovering mothers. She was an extension of himself and his dogma, even if she was unaware of it. Perhaps this was why her distress had drawn him so strongly.

Khonshu studied her profile carefully, watching as defeat finally settled into the slump of her frame and the sorrow in her eyes.

"...I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, and with his proximity, the words struck him like blows from a club despite her being completely ignorant to his presence. "I'm begging—I need some relief. Something. Else I..."

She didn't finish the thought. She didn't have to. She let out a long sigh, shaking her head at herself in evident deprecation.

"What're you even doing?" she murmured, tilting her head back to rest against the seat. "No one listens. No one ever does."

I am now, Khonshu rumbled, raising his palm to obscure the young woman from his vision. Power long untouched lay sleepy and unused in the depths of his wellspring, and he bathed her in it—with her being none the wiser. And I am sorry for the pain you have endured because I failed to do so sooner.

She shivered, perceiving a chill in the air and little else. She tightened her jacket around herself, tried turning the key over again, and relaxed when the vehicle finally cranked to a rattling, sputtering start. Khonshu stood still and watched her drive off, soon merging into the sparse midnight traffic on the main freeway leading towards the interior of the city.

Khonshu heaved a long, heavy sigh, and he uttered not another sound as he slipped back into the metaphysical and disappeared.

Read the rest of the chapter here! :)

#fanfiction #moon knight #khonshu #reader insert #khonshu/reader #khonshu x reader #mine #original character(s) #original male character(s) #original female character(s) #fisara's codices

[koolkat9]

GerEng Week 2023 - Day 1

Let's try this again lol

@gereng-week

Prompt: First Meeting || Angel/Demon

Rating: T

Pairing: GerEng (though this is setting up an au so there isn't much romance), Past Fruk, Implied/One-sided PortEng

Word Count: 1208

Read on AO3

Author's Note: This is not at all read over. Just stuck it quickly through grammarly. In case you don't know, I took off for exchange on September 29th so I haven't had time to write, let alone edit. So expect GerEng week from me to be a bit late.

The Tales of the Terrible Angel and Demon

“Luci, baby how are ya?”

It was too fucking early for this. “What do you want now asshole?”

“Now, is that any way to talk to the one who created you?’

“Fuck off.”

God sighed on the other end. “If you had a swear jar you may have been able to pay Ol’ Peter off and get back up here.”

“As if I’d want that,” Lucifer scoffed, “But that’s besides the point. What the fuck do you want?”

“Well… You see…I have this angel.”

“I’m not taking another one of your fucking angels.”

“I wasn’t going to propose that,” God grumbled. Oh, how Lucifer loved the sound even if he only got under his long-time enemy's skin just a little bit. “I was going to ask if you…I don’t know…possibly have a demon with somewhat of a moral compass.”

“What kind of shit demon has a moral compass?”

A knock at the door brought Lucifer’s attention away from whatever retort God had for him. “Give me a sec,” Lucifer said into the phone before putting it down. He could still hear God ranting and raving, but it was garbled. Lucifer returned his attention to his guest. “Come in.”

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” the demon who knocked said.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing Ludwig?”

“So–” Ludwig caught himself and coughed awkwardly. “There is another…What do the humans call it? A Karen? Anyway, there is a very angry lady requesting to speak to you and she won’t take no for an answer.”

Lucifer groaned. This had to be the hundredth one this week. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ludwig nodded and with a bow, he returned to his desk. Lucifer had a choice. Hang up on the annoying bastard who sent him to this literal hell hole or face something scarier than anything the deepest fires of hell could conjure up. Hesitantly, he picked up the phone.

“Are you back? How dare you–”

“Just get to the fucking point. I have to deal with a witch and it’s best I don’t keep her waiting.”

“Okay…Are you sure? No one who at least follows some of the rules? I’m sure you’ve heard of Arthur–”

“Oh him. Chaos incarnate. Why isn’t he down here? He’s even worse than me.”

“You know we don’t do that anymore. Anyway, I had a different idea. I’ve been making this new human and they need an angel and a demon. I was hoping I could send Arthur down, but I need a voice of reason.”

“Looking for a voice of reason in Hell. What kind of places do you think–” Lucifer was interrupted by another knock.

“Sir–” Ludwig’s voice called, only to be overshadowed by garbled squawking.

“Actually…” Lucifer said, “I may have someone that would be perfect.”

— — —

Hell was where he wanted to be. Earth could be a fun place to visit. He and Alastair always loved sneaking down for some pub fare and good drinks. But this was not his goal when he had…disrupted…Jesus’s birthday meal.

This could be a blessing in disguise. Perhaps getting up to some shenanigans with his demon partner would be the final straw.

“Promise me you’ll behave,” Afonso sighed.

Afonso, Arthur’s best friend turned nag after he got a promotion to organizing angel assignments.

“No.”

“Arthur.”

“I thought it was a sin to lie,” Arthur taunted.

Afonso grimaced, “Fine…Just…Don’t hurt anyone.”

“Don’t worry. I would never go that far.” Arthur’s gaze shifted down below as they descended to Earth. “Dylan would have my head if I did.”

A small congregation of demons and angels stood around the maternity wing, some from the higher ranks overseeing the assignment of each human's angel and demon. Afonso led Arthur over to the mother of his human who was in mid-labour. He looked away, feeling out of place in what should have been a private moment. He looked around at his fellow angels and their demon counterparts, all unimpressed, as if they didn’t want to be there. He wondered which of the demons amongst the group was to be his partner.

Afonso took his shoulder and guided him over to where a demon, in a sharp suit of dark red, almost appearing black. His light blond hair shone even under the dull white lights of the hospital. But the most striking feature was the cold blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. It was both chilling, yet also thrilled Arthur deep down.

“Arthur this is Ludwig,” Afonso introduced, “Former secretary of Satan himself.”

“Came down here just for you,” the demon beside Ludwig added.

Wait…That couldn’t be…

“Oh look, the secretary is accompanied by Satan’s personal fuck pet,” Afonso snarked.

Francis, one of Arthur’s first friends (though they had always claimed they were enemies) and one of the last angels to ever fall.

The angel-turned-succubus gave a sly grin. “Aww are you still butt hurt about me getting Arthur’s first–”

Afonso’s wings flared. “Shut your mouth, demon.”

“Can we not bring my past flings into this,” Arthur growled, staring daggers into both Francis and Afonso.

Francis tisked. “Fine, fine. Because you’re so special to me. Now, Ludwig, this is Arthur. My ex and your new partner.”

“You slimy frog.”

“Aww…You still call me by my nickname.”

Afonso grabbed his arm when Arthur tried to lunge for his smirking ex. “It’s not worth it Arthur,” he whispered.

Ludwig, who had been rather quiet this whole exchange, finally stepped forward. He extended a hand to Arthur. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arthur. I look forward to working with you.”

Arthur accepted the hand hesitantly. “Nice to meet you too I guess…”

“I’ll be honest, this is my first time on earth.”

Arthur smirked slightly. “Well…Trust me, I’ll make sure you have a great time.”

A few minutes later, Francis and Afonso took their leave, Afonso noting that human would be coming any minute. With his babysitter gone, Arthur leaned over.

“Want to get out of here and I can show you how humans have a good time?”

The demon’s eyes widened. “What?”

“What?”

“We can’t leave, our human will be here any minute.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Everyone knows a baby human isn’t facing moral dilemmas, they barely understand words.”

“But it’s an important day. And the handbook says–”

“The demons have a handbook for this sort of thing?”

“Well technically it’s the angel’s handbook, but it feels like this is something we should witness.”

Any semblance of joy Arthur was hoping to get out of this arrangement drained out of him. Most angels weren’t even this uptight.

Their human gave out a piercing cry, their ‘hello’ to the world. Both the angel and demon stared at the wrinkly, slimy little thing. Ludwig grimaced.

“Is it too soon to say humans are disgusting?” Ludwig asked.

Arthur crossed his arms, unimpressed by the whole ordeal. “Trust me, it gets worse.”

“God…What have I gotten myself into.”

As Ludwig’s grimace faded into a look of awe as the now clean baby was handed to their mother and seemed to calm from the contact alone, Arthur was wondering the exact same thing: What had he gotten himself into?

#hetalia #hws england #hws germany #hws #gereng #geruk #engger #angel and demon au #gereng week #gereng week 2023 #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #past fruk #onesided porteng #hws france #hws portugal

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 10

A/N: Okay I love this one too!! I know I got off my posting once a day train. I'll do better and learn how to do a figure out the que soon 🤪 K love you, thanks for reading my two favs, and bye.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, lil angsty

When I awake the next morning, the weak winter sun is streaming into the windows of Kevin’s bedroom. I rub at my face, feeling the dryness in my eyes and want desperately to stay in bed all day. I glance at the clock on my phone, seeing a message from Felicia.

My parents are coming to spend the day with the kids, so I won’t need you today. See you at the event tonight!

Well, that works for me. I quickly text a response, then roll onto my back and begin my morning routine of checking social media. I notice instantly that I have over 20 messages from my friends to filter through on Instagram. That’s certainly not normal. I glance over at Kevin, seeing him on his stomach, pillow crunched in his arms as he sleeps. His breathing is lightly even and his 5 o clock shadow has seemingly filled his jaw line overnight. I reach out and lightly run my hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. God, he is gorgeous. With one last smile, I return my focus to Instagram. 

I open the most recent message from my high school best friend, Rachel. 

Are you okay? These comments are uncalled for.

My eyebrows furrow at her words, having no idea what she is talking about. I scroll to the next one from Lauren, Ryan Hartman’s girlfriend.

Ignore the comments on that picture of you and Kevin. People are jealous and want what you have. Don’t let it get to you.

The next one is from Danielle Spurgeon.

Girl, these fan girls just get worse every year. You’re gorgeous. Tune them out!

“Um, what the fuck?” I whisper, navigating out of messages and heading to the picture Kevin posted of our date night yesterday. I smile as the picture of Kevin sweetly kissing my cheek pops up. Damn, we look good. Last night was pure magic- filled with carbs and some good loving. Our faces perfectly reflect the wonderful night we had.

I click on view all comments and begin to scroll. The first few scrolls are nice- full of heart emojis, bless hands, and heart eyes. I see a few comments from our friends, Wild teammates and their ladies. I smile at their recognition, but know there must be more to have so many messages. I get to the first one and my eyebrows furrow.

Noooooooo. He could do so much better than this girl.

I mean, no one asked for your opinion wildhockeygurl22, but okay. I shake it off and keep going. 

Something about her face just isn’t right.

I wrinkle my nose. What kind of comment is that? That’s just mean. I keep going though, determined to see what other comments there are. I should learn to leave well enough alone.

Holy shit, this girl is fat as fuck 🐋

Ick, you should be with me instead, Kev

When are you going to tell her about us?

Ew. 

I don’t approve.

This girl is the worst kind of puck bunny: ugly and trashy.

He could have any girl in the world and he picks that? Disappointing.

When you’re ready to upgrade, DM me.

My glow from last night is instantly popped. Tears prick my eyes and I throw my phone down onto the bed. What the fuck? Why are people so mean? I’m a human being and these comments are treating me like less than because I’m dating their favorite player. I swallow the lump in my throat as two tears splash out. I wipe them away quickly as Kevin begins to stir next to me. His arms release his pillow and reach for me. He pulls himself into my lap, moving my hand to his hair. I mindlessly run my fingers through his brown locks. The comments replay like a movie in my head and I frown.

“I think you might want to take that picture of us off Instagram.” I say quietly. He flips over and looks into my face. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” He asks me, his hand wraps around my wrist resting it on his chest.

“I guess the world doesn’t approve.” I shrug and laugh, trying to add humor even though the situation feels like anything but funny. 

“Oh, did the fan girls come out?” The way he says it is so nonchalant and expected.

“You could say that.”

“What did they say?”

“Oh, just the typical trash about how unworthy I am for you.” I roll my eyes and give him a small smile. I’m trying to play it off like it isn’t bothering me, but I’m not sure if it’s convincing to me or Kevin. He is quiet for a minute before he slowly rises, reaching for his phone. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as the app loads.

I watch his face as he scrolls through the comments. His scowl gets deeper the longer he goes. 

“What the fuck.” Kevin whispers. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m not sure why they are being so mean. Geez, why do they act like they know anything about either of us?” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?” He wonders, looking concerned.

“Yeah!” I lie brightly. “They’re just trolling to get your attention.” I shrug. “If anything, it’s probably best to ignore them.” I nod. Again, I wonder who I’m trying to convince with these words. Because it feels like more than that to me. Maybe they’re seeing something about me that I can’t. What if they are right? What if they know I’m an imposter in this life of his?

“Sam…” Kevin begins but trails off. I give him a sparkling smile that is meant to be reassuring. His brown eyes watch me for a few breaths and I resist the urge to squirm under his gaze. Everything is fine. And even if it isn’t right now, it will be. I’ll grow thick skin. I’ll delete my Instagram. I’ll ask Kevin to never post another picture of us again. All normal, manageable things while I hide from the deep insecurity blooming within my heart. 

“Come here.” Kevin finally says, pulling me into his bare chest. He grabs his iPhone, flipping it to selfie mode. I close my eyes and bury my face as much as I can into him while trying to seem cute. His lips connect with my hair and regardless of how it looks, it feels reassuring. He snaps the picture and shows it to me for approval. I nod my head that it looks okay. Actually, it looks better than okay. He looks hopelessly in love with me.

“You really don’t have to post that.” I tell him.

“Do you not want me to?” He asks sincerely. “I’m going to post it to my story. No one will be able to comment.” I think about that, figuring if the comments are the worst part of it, maybe it is okay.

“Okay.” I say to him. He begins typing then posts the picture for all the nasty trolls to see. When it’s out into the world, he gives me his phone to look at what he said. 

The only one for me.

A small smile makes its way onto my face as he pulls me in for a sweet kiss.

“That should end things.” He kisses my nose. “Now let’s get breakfast going so I can get to practice on time. I don’t need your brother up my ass again about why I’m late.” He winks and crawls out of bed. 

“Okay.” I say to him as he disappears down the hall to the kitchen. I go to his Instagram app again, looking at the story he just posted. The warm bubble returns to my chest and I feel the insecurity slowly easing away. Then, a notification banner pops down of a DM from a follower. 

Kev, she ain’t it.🤮 Let’s meet up next time you’re in New York.

Fuck.

- - - 

The moment we walk into the Wild Meet The Fans event later, all eyes seemingly turn to us. Kevin holds my hand as we begin to wade into the crowd. His teammates, fans, team officials greet us warmly. After Kevin’s recent play, his popularity within Minnesota has grown significantly. I force a smile on my face even as the discomfort washes over me every time someone stops us for a picture with him. My brother is an NHL player and has been for awhile, I can count on both hands the amount of times someone has stopped us to ask for a picture. Now, with Kevin, it seems to be a daily occurrence. Even though it’s an event for the team to mingle with the fans, this is still so weird.

“Can you take our picture?” A tall, redhead asks me, handing me her gold and glittery iPhone. I look down at it, then at Kevin. He gives me a knowing smile and then his eyes dip to my cleavage suggestively.

“Sure!” I exclaim, not entirely positive that I really have a choice in the matter either way. 

I watch as the redhead slides up close to him. He wraps an arm around her and smiles this gorgeous, wide smile that has my knees weak, even though I’m the one who came here with him. I click the button a few times, then hand it back to her. She is warm and delighted as she skips away from us and back to her friends.

“I think you just made her entire month.” I smile at Kevin, trying to keep it light even as my skin tightens in response. 

“Well, you know I love to please.” He winks at me, placing his hand on the small of my back as we continued to push into the crowd. 

I spot my brother across the room with Felicia. He tips his beer at us in acknowledgement, then continues his conversation with Zach and Alisha Parise. We find ourselves immersed in a group with younger Wild players- Ryan Hartman, Matt Dumba, and Carson Soucy. We reach the group as Lauren, Blair, and Shyla, their respective girlfriends, are leaving. They give me a quick wave and yell that they’re going to get drinks. 

“They’re already lit and they’ve only been here for an hour.” Lauren laughs as she pauses before joining them. “Do you want something?”

“Ah, no I’m okay.” I assure her. She nods and heads off with the other girls. 

“Kevin Fiala.” A  light, female voice comes from behind us. We both turn in acknowledgement. Our eyes fall on a gorgeous blonde in a shimmery pink dress who looks like she literally just walked off the runway at New York Fashion week. “ich bin ein großer fan von dir.”

Kevin’s face breaks out into a big smile as he responds to her in German. She extends her hand to him and he shakes it enthusiastically. The music changes from a slower song to a high energy beat and Kevin steps away from me towards the blonde. Likely to hear better, but my brain takes it as a slight. I cross my arms over my chest. I can feel myself beginning to overreact to the situation. But I’m already in a fragile state after this morning and right now, it’s hard for me to not feel like the dumb American who wishes she had given a little more crap about foreign language classes in high school. Why did I pick Spanish anyway?

High school aside, German is nothing like Spanish and I don’t even try to figure out what they’re talking about. Instead, I focus on the universal human language: body. His smile is bright, his tone is warm, and they’re close. Too close for a guy who came here with someone else. The blonde is loving his attention, laughing at all the right moments, fluttering her long lashes that frame her beautiful blue eyes. And her dress. Gah. Why did I put jeans on today? I should have worn a dress. Never mind that the weather is cooler than normal tonight. I look down at my burgundy top, shrugging because at least my boobs look great. 

The conversation seems to last hours, but was truthfully maybe 2 minutes. Finally, the blonde slides away but not before asking me to take a picture with my boyfriend. She tosses the phone to me like I’m his assistant, not his girlfriend. I grit my teeth against the unkind words threatening to spill out. After the picture, she reaches her hand out for the phone without even looking at me and continues her conversation with him. After one last flirtatious smile, she wanders off to the other German speaker on the team, Nico Sturm. Kevin, still smiling, walks back over to me. His smile drops when he takes in the scowl on my face and crossed arms.

“What?” He asks me, reaching out and rubbing my arm. 

“What was that?” I ask, voice rising a bit at the end.

“A… conversation… in German.. with a fan?” He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head inquisitively.

“Looked like more than that to me.” Kevin sighs exasperatedly and runs a hand through his hair.

“Sam, it wasn’t anything more than that. We were talking about hockey.”

“Whatever. Now, I need a drink.”

I move around him and weave my way between the clusters of people. The bartender finds me immediately and I ask for a vodka soda. That should help calm my nerves. Or at the very least, suffocate this feeling of unworthiness inside of me until tomorrow. How could we have had such a great night yesterday, where I felt so loved and wanted by Kevin, only to have it all go to shit this morning?

I can feel the heat of Kevin before he touches me. He places his hands on either side of me on top of the bar, then gently uses his hips to push me against it. I close my eyes as I feel his strong chest against my back then his growing erection pressing into my butt. His lips come close to my ear, making a slight, delightful shiver roll down my spine. 

“You’re the only one who’s getting any of this tonight. Those jeans make your ass look so damn good.”

He pulls my ear lobe into his mouth, sucking slightly as he moves my hair away. I resist the urge to moan and force a sigh out of my mouth. Kevin, slides a hand up my stomach and pulls me tighter against him, moving his hips slightly against my butt.

“Baby.” Kevin tries again as the bartender places the vodka in front of me.

I grab it, sucking down a gulp as quickly as I can. I turn in his arms, looking into his liquid brown eyes. He wants me. I can see it, I can feel it, yet the insecurity has taken over me. The blonde just now didn’t even glance in my direction. That’s how plain I am. Kevin walks into a room and commands attention. What business do I have with this smoke show of a man? A hockey player who is coming into his prime more and more every day.  His superstar potential is within his grasp and I feel inadequate for this role being thrusted upon me.

Kev, she ain’t it. 🤮 Let’s meet up next time you’re in New York.

“This is harder than I thought it would be.” I blurt out to him. His shoulders tighten a bit as he pulls his hands back.

“What is?”

“Being an NHL Player’s girlfriend. I never would have picked this life for myself, Kev. I just fell into it and after those comments.. I just.. feel like I don’t belong.”

He tilts his head to the side as I speak, shifting his weight from side to side. He blows out a sigh.

“I get it. It’s a lot.” He agrees with me, which makes me feel worse. “But the place that you belong the most in this world is next to me."

“It feels like everyone wants a piece of you right now. They’re falling all over themselves to get to you. I don’t know how to compete with that.”

“You don’t need to, Sam. You’ve already got me. And I think it’s an exaggeration that everyone wants me. There are plenty of guys out there too.”

I roll my eyes at him, looking away from him. He brings my face back to his, brushing my lips briefly. 

“What about the girls in your Instagram DMs?” My eyebrows pull together in pain.

“What about them? I don’t read them. I’m not interested when I have you in my bed.” He gives me a large grin, trying to ease the tension between us. I respond by shaking my head and looking away again.

“Hey… as far as I’m concerned, you’re the only person in here tonight. I know the comments on Instagram hurt, but the only opinions that matter in this relationship are yours and mine. You’ll learn to tune them out.”

“Why should I have to get used to women throwing themselves at you?” 

“I don’t mean that. I mean the entire concept of… fan girls. I’m not saying that it’s fair. I’m just saying that it’s a shitty part of being with me. I’m sorry it is that way. I know it’s frustrating to take the high road, but it’s the reality of being in the spotlight.” His tone is gentle and he grabs my hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

I glance around at the other women close to us. All glossy, put together, and vivacious and despite my extra effort tonight, I feel so lacking compared to them. I think of the stupid message from earlier in the day and I can’t help the tears that fill my eyes. And that was only one message. How many more does he get like that? I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. God, this is so embarrassingly needy and pathetic. I’m not this girl. I hate how insecure I feel.

“Sam,” Kevin calls me back to him, turning my face. “Look at me.” He stares into my eyes with sweet brown pools that are willing me to listen. “You are everything to me. I don’t need anyone else in this bar, or this country, or the rest of the world for that matter. I have what I need right here in my arms. Fuck everyone else.” He leans down and captures my lips in his. His tongue instantly tangles with mine and I feel all the worries of the last few hours melt away into his mouth. Nothing matters anymore but the connection of our lips. I moan softly into his mouth. I feel him smile against me as he pulls me in tighter. He slowly drags back, placing several soft kisses as he goes.

“There she is.” He whispers as I smile with my eyes still closed. I open them, my body tingling from the connection. The look in his eyes makes my stomach twist in anticipation. 

“Holy shit, Sam, your tits look hot as hell tonight. Kev better be touching those later!”

I whip my head to the left and burst out laughing at Shyla, Carson Soucy’s girlfriend.

“Wow, Shy.” I say, shaking my head in embarrassment. I look around at the people next to us, glad they seem immersed in their own conversations. 

“It may have been crazy, but it worked.” She grins, poking my shoulder. “That sour puss look is gone from your face.” She grabs her drink from the bartender, saluting him with it before taking a pull. “Plus, Kevin was totally thinking that during your kiss just now.” I laugh, looking back at Kevin.

“She’s not wrong.” He shrugs innocently.

“Oh my god.” I laugh, putting my hands on my cheeks which I’m sure are extremely red at this point.

“Have a good night you two.” She winks as she saunters off back to Carson.

My eyes find Kevin and I grin at the look on his face. He looks as guilty as Shyla insinuated. I bite my lip and suck in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Kevin grabs my hand again and tugs me from leaning against the bar and into his arms. His face lowers to mine, but he pauses a breath between my lips.

“I’m sorry this is hard, but I won’t be sorry that you fell in love with me.” He whispers against my lips, tugging my bottom lip in his mouth. His hands dip from the small of my back and enter into the back pocket of my jeans. He gives my ass a tight squeeze. His chest rumbles with a moan that has my scalp tingling. Damn, I want him. I’m convinced I’ll never get enough of him. We pull apart for air, gazing into each others eyes with a fierce need that has the entire event fading from reality.

Then, my brother appears.

Alex slaps Kevin on the back and firmly grips his shoulder as he slides up to the bar next to us. I clear my throat and look at a point beyond Kevin’s head, trying desperately to not appear guilty.

“Woah.” Kevin exhales quickly and pulls his hands from my back pockets.

“Just wanted you to know that I am here, Kev. Watching you grab handfuls of my sister’s ass. Thinking of all the different ways I can make it look like I accidentally knocked you out next practice. Have a good night.” He toasts us with his Budweiser and walks away with a smug smile on his face. I giggle as Kevin shakes his head and blows out a puff of air.

“Funny, you never imagined this life, and I never imagined being afraid of a goalie.” I tilt my head back and laugh. When I righten my head again, Kevin’s lips find mine. “We should be considerate of your brother and take this home.” He whispers to me. “The team doesn’t need me like you do tonight.”

“Okay.” I tell him. Kevin grabs my hand and we weave our way through the crowded bar to the door. Several people reach out for Kevin, but his only focus is on me. He pushes us through and gives polite smiles, but doesn’t slow or stop for further interaction. The cool, winter air hits our faces when Kevin opens the door and I feel instant relief at being alone with him now.

I smile to myself as we begin to walk hand in hand to his car, knowing tonight, in our bed, will be anything but cold.

#letters in your last name au #kevin fiala #Kevin Fiala Fic #los angeles kings #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

[whumpacabra]

Cleaned Up

Nonsexual nudity [bathing], cold water, referenced captivity and torture, threats

[Directly follows Ghosting]

David was completely awake now, the cold water biting into tender bruises and open cuts. His shuddering gasps for air were ignored by the pair of men hosing him down, steel toed boots tapping impatiently.

“I fucking hate this…” One of them, red haired and husky, couldn’t sit still. He paced the length of the concrete room, refusing to look at David.

“I fucking hate hearing you complain about this when you haven’t had to lift a finger.” The smaller man, mousy and squeaking, ran another pass of icy water over David’s shivering shoulders.

“I take it nobody cares how I feel about this?” He wanted to bite his tongue off the second the sentence snapped past his chattering teeth.

“Shut up.” David counted it a small blessing that nothing physical followed their unanimous, almost automatic reply.

“I got the damn clothes and shit - you wanna go argue with the supply guys about why the Boss wants a fresh pressed suit fitted for a - a fucking - damn, I fucking hate this.”

“It ain’t about you. So…I don’t know, take a smoke break. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

David kept his eyes glued to the wall in front of him as two pairs of footsteps moved. One leaving, one approaching. Even his shivering couldn’t hide his erratic breathing.

“Relax dammit it’s just a fucking towel.” The fabric that fell over David’s shoulders wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t like the rags Cortazar gave him.

Hesitant hands gripped the towel tighter over his back as the man behind him took a step back. David couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed to dry himself.

“What’s your name kid?” David squinted over his shoulder at the man, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than himself.

“Dave.” His voice came out gravelly and hoarse. Did the Boss not even know the name of the man he held prisoner?

“I’m Marius. The twitchy fuck is my brother Jo.” Marius was sifting through the layers of clothes his brother had left behind, tossing David a pair of boxers. “Can you dress yourself?”

David wanted to ask what the hell was going on - why the Boss wanted him to…'join him for dinner,' why Marius was (comparatively) kind to a man he had just met. All he managed was an expression between apprehension and horror.

“Listen closely because I’m sure that pretty little head of yours is still having a hard time.” Marius turned his back as David struggled to get dressed while still damp. “You are going to die on this island. One way or another. Best case scenario the Boss likes you enough to keep you around for work, but you’ll never be able to leave.” His voice softened as he turned, handing over a pristine undershirt. “Worst case scenario Jo has to scrape what’s left of you off the walls. Understand?”

David nodded numbly, the urge to float away from his body and become a passive observer tempered by the anger under Marius’ words.

“Cortazar’s dragged in quite a few…problem children over the years. Boss is usually too busy to care but he’s on vacation here this year. I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking but whatever it is, it’s better than replacing your brain with a shotgun shell, eh?”

David knew there were things much worse than death that the Boss could visit upon him. Much worse.

[Directly before Feast]

(Part of my Freelancers: Intersection series)

#whump #bathing #nonsexual nudity #referenced torture #captivity #threats #freelancers #no context november #in other news. im 11 chapters into a swansong au that im mentally ill about #maybe ill post it one month when i dont vibe w the event prompts

[oc-aita]

AITA? (Sorry in advance that this is long)

My (?14) best friend H (M15) and I had been friends for 3 years now, but we'd gone to different schools the whole time. He didn't know my classmates, family, or other friends, and I counted that as a blessing.

I'm your stereotypical 'mean girl' type at school. Or at least, I'm friends with those girls. I'm mostly just complacent in their bullying. But I've allowed, ignored, and excused all kinds of shit ever since we were little. Mostly they're just badmouthing kids, but there's other aspects, too. I won't go into too many details, but if you know anything about the social hell that is bullying, you can guess a sample of the stuff that happens. I will say in my defense personally that at least I don't let them be particularly awful? Like, yeah, we're unkind, screwed up people to the kids my friends deemed as 'targets', but the particularly vile shit my friends try to say to them always gets my explicit condemnation.

I don't like being mean, I consider myself a nice person internally, but I'm actually stuck with my friend group. I have a controlling dad who wants me to act a certain way and hang with certain people, and even my friendship with H is highly secretive and behind his back, despite his flawless reputation and general fitting-the-bill of a guy my dad might allow me around. I've only ever expressed once that my friends are kinda mean (understatement, I know), and my dad freaked out at me. In short, I'm not allowed to not be friends with them. I'm not even allowed to be nice to their targets against their will.

I told H that once I entered his high school (he's a grade ahead of me) that he was going to think differently of me once he met my friends, but he brushed me off, saying he knew what kind of person I was and that nothing could be that bad. I tried to argue, but he assured me otherwise and dropped the subject. But due to a long series of contrivances, myself, H, and two of the kids my friends target most often, who will be known as R (F15) and C (M15) from here on, have been working together on what's effectively a series of projects, and will be for a while. R is our team leader, and C is her right hand man. They both fucking hate me, and I don't blame them at all.

R's pretty non-confrontational, and tries her best to keep everyone civil. She doesn't like me in the slightest, but doesn't want to have the team dogpile me for it, because she's really just too nice for her own good. We communicate as we have to, and that's that. C, however, makes it very clear to everyone that he never intends to forgive me or act as if I've been anything but awful to him - even though I haven't said pretty much anything personally, I'm sort of the de facto face of my friendgroup, which is more than bad enough. I won't act like he's even a little unjust for it, and honestly I deserve every word and more for never standing up for him, R, and everyone else.

At first H just assumed he was just holding some meaningless grudge and assumed C was a spiteful, shallow person, but after enough time I told H that he really should talk to C about why he dislikes me so much. For a while I didn't hear anything about the topic, but a couple days ago H called me, pissed off. He explained that C had told him all the things I'd overseen my friends do and say to him, as well as listed every instance of my direct interactions with him and R. To my surprise, I also learned of the things my friends had done when I wasn't there - and I was appalled. They were even worse when I wasn't around. They were vitriolic, cruel, and even took physical actions against them. To make a long story short, they once even broke something of C's that was really, really important knowing it would be hard to replace as well as expensive for his low-income family. I did my best to explain that I never would have approved of such a thing, as well as why I'm around those kinds of people at all, but H said that I was just making excuses and that, clearly, since I was friends with him, my dad can't control me as much as I act like. I wanted to point out that my dad knows my friends' parents and stuff like that, but he wouldn't let me, and I'm honestly not sure he's wrong about that anymore. Maybe I just assumed I was as powerless against my dad as I'd felt? I can't say. Either way, he told me my behavior was deplorable regardless of my explicit actions, and that he didn't feel like he could talk to me anymore for the time being outside of project work.

Am I the asshole for how I handled the situation? I know how R and C were treated is fundamentally wrong, but is there anything better I could have done?

#original character #am i the asshole #aita #violence tw #bullying tw

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Lemme give you a suggestion for the continuation of that new Ace angst of yours hehe. So, Ace and reader became friends again, right? And Ace is happy if someone else makes the reader happy, right?? What if that someone is Sabo? The two started dating and being lovey-dovey with each other and Ace can't help but be jealous? I mean, he thinks the reader's smile is so much bigger when she's with Sabo than with him? What if Ace can't help but ask Sabo, whenever the latter came back from his and reader's date, about what transpired in the said date? Was the reader happy? Was Sabo treating her right? Was he not doing what Ace did to reader when he started becoming toxic to her?? That's all for now, peace ✌️

UGH! Even as numbed as I am, this shot hard! My heart! Alright, I’m done, let’s angst this shit up!

TW/Warnings: jealousy, ANGST! Nightmares, pining

Word Count: 1150

It had been some months since you gave Ace a second chance, since you let him be friends again, it was a second chance that Ace never once took for granted. He knew he was lucky just to be near you again, that being said, his heart still ached to be in your arms again, whether or not he deserved it. Glancing over at you, another arrow shot through his chest, the ache to be in your arms had gotten worse lately, now that he was watching his brother hold you. He’d told himself that he was just happy to see you happy, that he’d be happy even if you started dating someone else so long as they made you happy, but seeing you with his brother. It wasn’t as painful as it had been when he risked losing you completely, it wasn’t the constant knives bleeding his heart dry, but he couldn’t stop the jealousy. Worse yet, was when he woke up from his dreams, or more often, his nightmares, sobbing, wishing, praying that he could hold you once more. He was sleeping a lot more lately. Even if he was risking the nightmares, it was worth it when he dreamt of you, when he dreamt of being with you once more. He knew what it felt like to be in your arms, for you to be in his and while his dreams couldn’t compare to the real thing, it was the only time he could hold you anymore. That privilege, that blessing, was reserved for his brother now. Watching you laugh as Sabo picked you up and swung you around, even as you told him to stop and put you down. Seeing you so happy again, he remembered when that smile was directed at him. The smile that told him what you said and what you actually wanted were two different things. You said ‘stop’, you said ‘put me down’, but what you meant was ‘hold me tighter’, what you wanted was for him to pull you closer. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop because he was showering you with love and attention, the same way he’d once done. Worse yet was your smile, he swore that the smile on your face was bigger than he’d ever seen it, bigger than when you were with him. Shik, another blade to his heart. Your smile was bigger… you were happier. Shlunk, the knife pierced deeply this time. Ace often checked in with Sabo, particularly after dates when his brother practically came skipping in through the door. Were you alright? How was the date? What happened? What did the two of you do? … Were you happy? … Was Sabo treating you right? Everytime, the answer was the same. You were doing well, the date was amazing. When Sabo told him how happy you seemed… how well Sabo was treating you… how Sabo wasn’t making the same mistakes he had. Sabo had more female friends than Ace had, Sabo’s exes had been seen around more often, but each time, the blond made sure that you felt like you were the only one in the world, not just for him, but like you were the only thing in all of existence that mattered. It brought some comfort to him that his brother was treating you right, that you were happy. Ace trudged towards his room, he was exhausted, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take, watching you with his brother, seeing your smile. It had to be true, it couldn’t be his imagination, you had to be happier with his brother, right? Ace pulled a drawer open, all the pictures he’d ever taken with you tucked safely inside. Looking through them, was your smile the same as it was back then? He looked through each picture, remembering how happy he’d been, how happy you had been with him. Ace gently placed the pictures back into the drawer and closed it. He was tired, sleep would help, especially if he could dream of you, please let him dream of you. 

Jolting up awake, Ace’s breathing came out in heavy pants, the young man in a cold sweat. Sleep hadn’t helped, it hadn’t been the dreams he wanted. A voice, your voice, so happy, so wonderful at first. You’d been smiling at him, waving him over, but when he’d gone to move, he’d been stuck, only for Sabo to run past him. His brother, the look his brother had given him, looking back at Ace, glancing over his shoulder at the black haired young man. She’s mine now, you failed, you’re too late. His mouth didn’t move, but Ace would hear the words swirling in his mind. Sabo then continued running over to you, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. The smile on your face when he pulled away, the loving look in your eyes. You’re the only one for me, you’re the best thing to happen to me. Shluk, ffftt, plsht, he felt sick from how his heart was being stabbed again and again. ‘Best thing to happen to me’. You hadn’t said the actual words, the real you hadn’t said the words, but they still echoed in his mind again and again. He needed to talk to you, he had to talk to you. He didn’t care that you were with his brother, or that you weren’t giving him that chance, he needed to know where he stood before it killed him.

Standing in front of the man, you couldn’t help but fidget. It was late, but here he stood, begging to talk to you about your relationship. Finally, you nodded, moving aside to let him into your ‘new’ apartment. It technically wasn’t new anymore, but it wasn’t the place you’d been living at when he’d dated you. 

“I… please, Y/n. I… just…” Ace ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, “I… I need to know where I stand in your life, I need to know… is Sabo really treating you well? He’s not making the same mistakes I did? Are… are you happier with him? Are… were you ever that happy with me?” Ace pleaded, trying not to let the tears spill over. Standing there, you stared at him, how could you answer that? How could you answer any of that?!

“I… I don’t know what you want to hear, Ace. I mean, we’re friends, you’ve spent months showing me how sorry you are, proving that to me, but even if I completely forgave everything, I’m dating Sabo. He is treating me well, you don’t need to worry there, and no, he’s not making the same mistakes.” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“And… are you happier?” Ace asked hesitantly. You stood there silently, it was a question you couldn’t answer, because it was a question you didn’t know the answer to.

#one piece ace #portgas d. ace #fire fist ace #ace x reader #one piece sabo #sabo the revolutionary #chief of staff sabo #sabo x reader #chief of staff sabo x reader #sabo the revolutionary x reader #former ace x reader #angst

[th3atr3phant0m]

Island

Some content with a character by my good friend @sleepy-sloth-dragons and Dagur from How to Tain Your Dragon!

It wasn’t often that Dagur found himself in a situation where he had to rely on others. Of course, he had his entire armada- dozens of ships worth of men who were physically strong enough to fight alongside him and too stupid to disobey or betray him, even if they wanted to- but, aside from them, there weren’t many people in his life that he trusted, and, admittedly… he did not trust the morons that he employed, they were just the people he was stuck with if he wanted to get anywhere with anything. 

Right now, though, he didn’t have any of his men. He didn’t have any of his dozens of sturdy, impressive weapons. He didn’t have any of his dozens of ships. 

He didn't have anything.

All he had was the loser from the island who hadn’t talked to any other people for the past seven or eight years who wore the spikes from her own dragon on her clothes as some horrible fashion statement and has severe detachment anxiety for both that same dragon and the other loser from the island- neither of which were there with them right now. Dagur counted the fact that Silas wasn’t there a blessing- the two were an infuriating pair- but the missing dragon? That was a tragedy. At least if they had her- Missy Mountain or whatever her name was- they would be able to escape this hunk of rock they had landed on in the middle of nowhere. 

Eerika stood at the edge of the small island they’d been stranded on, ringing her hands together and staring out into the endless abyss of the vast ocean as if she were on the verge of exploding. Her small frame practically trembled as she stared out there, eyes flicking side to side frantically like she thought she might see one of her new friends swooping down on the back of their dragon to come save her (if one of those little shits showed up there, they better get both of them). She searched the sky for something that they both knew she wouldn’t find, no matter how long she stayed there, waiting and hoping and praying for them to come and rescue her. 

Damn, she looked pathetic. 

If Dagur were in any worse a mood, he would have thrown her into the ocean and left her to either swim her way back to the shore or drown in the icy depths like the useless little thing she was. 

That wouldn’t be the smartest idea, though. As much as he loathed to admit it, it would probably be wise to at least keep her around for a little while, and, as much as he loved his own company, he didn’t know how long he would be stuck there alone. Being there with someone else might make things easier- if nothing else because he could con her into doing some of the heavy lifting when it came to building a shelter and finding food so he wouldn’t have to do everything on his own (not that he wasn’t capable, but he certainly wasn’t interested in doing that shit). 

Either way, he supposed they were stuck together. 

For now, at least. 

“Hey, Eerika,” Dagur snapped as he headed over to stand beside her on the edge of the island, “Pull your head out of the clouds and pay attention!”

She didn’t even flinch, not seeming to even process the fact that he was there with her or that she had been spoken to. 

Dagur sneered, narrowing his eyes as he grabbed her shoulder, forcibly turning her to face him, “Listen up- Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Eerika’s deep umber eyes glistened with unshed tears that were welling up in her eyes, preparing to overflow and spill over any moment. 

Dagur practically recoiled at the very sight, “Gods, you’re not actually going to cry, are you? We’ll be stuck here for a few days- maybe a couple weeks at most. It’s not like we’ll be here forever.”

“Silas and I said the same thing eight and a half years ago,” she practically hissed, eyes narrowing with what Dagur could only describe as a combination of unbridled rage and lingering terror, “So excuse me for seeming a little worried.”

Before Dagur could get another word in edge-wise, she turned away from him again, fixing her gaze back on the horizon, lines of worry creasing her face. Eerika wrapped her arms around herself tightly, mimicking the sensation of being hugged. She may not have technically been alone, but it sure felt like she was when it was Dagur she was stuck with. 

Dagur let out an agonized sigh. Damn, this girl was melodramatic. 

“Listen,” he tried again, trying to force away the venom that so desperately wanted to bleed into his words like a murderous animal, barely holding back in an attempt to not frighten or upset her, “We need to come up with some sort of plan to get off this island. We can get some wood to make a boat-”

“I’m not going on a boat.”

“You’re really not making this any easier for us, you know that, right?” Dagur glared. It was an absolutely idiotic stipulation- Dagur got everywhere by ship and that was one of the only ways they could feasibly get off this island. Without dragons- which this island seemed to be completely devoid of considering how small and barren it was- sailing away was their only logical escape route. It would be a hassle to get her to help him if he told her that, now, though, and sailing back to a place he needed to get to on his own would be difficult. Worst-case scenario, he supposed he would use her until the last minute and then ditch her once he had his ship built. For now, though, he needed her on his side- or, at least, having her there could simplify things. “Fine, no boats. We’ll stay completely out of the water, you coward. We can’t just stay here and wait around for someone to save us, though. We have to do something.”

“Well what can we do? We can’t leave this place and this island isn’t even on either of our radars- none of them are going to know to come here to find us.”

“We can think of an actual plan later, but, for now, we should focus on setting up a shelter, building a fire, and finding something to eat…” he gave Eerika a hard look, eyes roving over her body and taking note of the injuries he saw on her, “And we should attend to your wounds.”

Eerika gave the sky one last, lingering gaze before she turned back to face him, “Okay.”

~~~

Eerika was- unsurprisingly, he supposed- a little hesitant to allow Dagur to get close enough to her to attend to her wounds. Unfortunately for both of them, though, was the fact that her most prominent injury was located at the back of her head- a decently sized gash that she couldn’t see due to its placement but that was bad enough that the hair surrounding the injury was matted together by the blood. 

“You’re not going to be able to take care of this yourself so just let me fix it,” After such a long time struggling to help Eerika, he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her and her refusal to allow him anywhere near her. He understood that she had some weird trust issues and that the two of them weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment, but he was trying to help damnit! It was aggravating that on one of the very rare occasions that he was actually trying to be nice to someone, they were refusing to allow it. 

Eerika jerked away from him, twisting in his grasp seemingly subconsciously, not allowing Dagur to make any headway on the injury there, “I don’t trust-”

“IF YOU KEEP FIGHTING AGAINST ME-” Dagur stopped himself mid-sentence, forcing himself to unball his fists and lower his voice, no longer shouting when he opened his mouth again, voice practically shaking with the effort he was putting into not snapping and either yelling at or physically harming Eerika, “You are going to hurt yourself. If you keep thrashing around like that, you’re going to make it worse.”

Eerika took a deep breath, seemingly forcing herself to do so. As she let out the huge breath, her body trembled with the effort of it but, once she finished letting it out, her entire body relaxed, each muscle seeming to unwind as the exhale escaped her lungs. Her breathing returned to normal and she relaxed almost entirely after letting out that breath. This time, she stayed still when Dagur's hands prodded at the wound on the back of her skull. 

Interesting. 

He'd have to ask about that later. 

For now, though, he needed to focus on helping her. 

Dagur carefully washed the blood out of her hair and away from the wound, rinsing the area of the partially dried blood that surrounded the area like a halo and washing the dirt and small debris that had collected there from the area. He was shockingly gentle with his actions as he detangled the hair surrounding her injury, doing what he could to safely expose the area so he could clearly see it. As annoying as it was to have to tend to the wounds of others, he knew that he had to remain in her good graces- at least somewhat and momentarily- while they were on that island. It would be significantly more difficult to get away from this place on his own- he needed someone on his side, even if it was just Eerika. 

"Thankfully, the wound doesn't look as bad as it seemed initially. I'd wager you're not even concussed." 

"Oh, that's a huge relief," Eerika's words dripped with barely contained sarcasm. 

"Throw yourself a pity party some other time. Right now, I need to stitch this up." 

"I don't think that'll be necessary," the words flew from her mouth like they were trying to escape and she attempted to leap to her feet with just as much fervor.

Dagur grabbed her shoulders from behind and held her in place, pushing her to remain seated, keeping her still enough to not squirm away from him. He resisted the urge to grab a fistful of her hair and pull it until she cooperated. That wouldn't be beneficial for either of them in the long run, regardless of how satisfying he felt it would be right now. 

"If you don't let me stitch it up, it will become worse and it will never properly heal. You may not be aware of this since you've never fought a human before, but an exposed skull is the last thing you want in a battle."

Just as she had before, Eerika took a deep breath, seemingly filling her lungs to the brim before letting it all escape once more. She breathed deeply and with intense purpose as if it were her last breath and she was trying her hardest to either savour it or cling to life for as long as she possibly could before finally succumbing to her inevitable fate. 

A little more drama than Dagur decided was necessary, but no matter. She seemed to calm down with her "dying breath" so he wouldn't complain- not much, at least. 

"Why do you do that?" Dagur asked as he dug the small pouch out of his pocket, thankful that, of all things, his healer's kit was still intact and in him rather than being lost to the waves for eternity to be collected or eaten by the creatures that dwelled within it. He threaded the string into the thin needle precisely, not moving quite with the fluidity that more practised people would have, but doing well enough that he figured he would at least give Eerika something passable for her injury. Besides, even shoddy work was better than nothing in a situation like this. 

"Do what?" 

"Breath like a man dying." Dagur braced one of his arms on her shoulder, using his large hand and the sturdiness of his muscular arms to hold her head in place. He wanted to do whatever he could to avoid her thrashing around and ruining his work- he didn't want to have to deal with her any more than he already had to with their current situation. 

"...you mean when I take deep breaths?" 

Dagur made the first stitch, the thin, clean needle easily slipping through the small section he had chosen, carefully pulling the thread through as he made the next stitch, drawing the sides of the wound together, "Yes." 

A small, shocked gasp escaped Eerika's throat, the sound surprised and somewhat pained as if she hadn't been expecting the sensation of him sewing the flesh of her head back together. 

"Answer me," Dagur demanded in a borderline sing-song voice, "If you focus on talking it'll hurt less." He'd sustained enough injuries over the years to know all the best tricks of coping with the pain. 

"Taking deep breaths like that can help calm you down. I think our mom taught us that."

"'Our mom' as in your actual mother or the dragon?" 

"Morda is our actual mother," Eerika insisted fiercely, "She raised us and taught us how to interact with the world around us and cope with things. We wouldn't be alive without her. She's as much of a mother to us as our birth mothers were." 

"Mothers? Plural?" 

"Yes."

"So you're not actually related?" Dagur was slightly surprised- they really acted like Siblings (though, he supposed that, after living on an island for eight years with only one other human, you would either end up romantically involved with one another (ew) or viewing one another as family… if you didn't kill the other person first, that is). 

"No, we are- kind of-" Eerika winced slightly at another stitch, but she was unable to move much due to how Dagur was holding her head in place to avoid any injury. 

at a new stitch, but not enough to mess up his work, “Our mothers died when we were pretty young- just a few years old, I think. Maybe two or three, but it’s difficult to remember. Silas says he can almost picture her face sometimes, but neither of us remember either of them perfectly- not anymore. Our fathers really relied on one another for support coping with their deaths and with raising us without them- they ended up falling in love. Eventually, they got together and they’ve been together ever since.” Dagur couldn’t see her face, but he could practically hear the way that she was fornwing, “At least, they were the last time we saw them.”

Dagur finished the last stitch, finally having sewn together every part of the gash while she had been talking. He used his sharp incisor teeth to cut the remnants of the string free after tying the ends together tightly. He didn’t have any proper shears or other cutting tools on him aside from his dagger, but he had the feeling that Eerika didn’t want him near her skull with something that dangerous, so he had to improvise. 

A small part of Dagur urged him to provide some sort of comfort to her- they weren’t friends by any means, but she had just shared something… incredibly personal with him. She had put herself in a very vulnerable position while talking to him and told him something he never would have expected her to tell him. It was… odd. 

That was her fault, though. You never tell the enemy something they could use against you. 

Still… 

Hesitantly, he reached forward and ran his fingers through her hair- strands that had not been trapped in between the stitching that he had laid out there- gently, stroking her hair almost like he were petting a cat.

“Done,” he announced, retracting his hand and standing up quickly the moment he noticed the tenderness with which he was carrying out those actions, “We don’t have much day left. Unless we want to freeze tonight, we should begin setting up a shelter.”

Eerik turned to glance at him, a hand coming up to cradle the injury gently, as if checking for evidence that Dagur had actually been true to his word. Slight bewilderment crossed her face, but she didn’t have time to say anything before Dagur headed out in the opposite direction, not even waiting for her to catch up.

~~~

Unlike Dagur, Eerika had an unfortunate amount of experience with this type of thing and didn’t have much difficulty with finding a good place for them to take cover. Of course, on their island, her and Silas currently lived in a beautiful home that had been carved out of the side of a hill, letting them build into the side of it like a comfortable little hobbit hole that had been dug out for them courtesy of Misty Mountain. When they had first washed up on that island, though, they hadn’t been so lucky. They had had to hole up in a cave- eventually evacuating that cave when it became evident that other creatures had already claimed it as their own- and then moved to instead build an awkward little lean-to against a side of the mountain. 

Over the past eight years, they had circulated through quite a few different homes that they’d camped out in before they finally landed on the current one that they had, so, at the very least, she knew how to safely set up a decent shelter in a hold in a hill that was barely big enough for the two of them to stand up in. 

Of the hole they found, Eerika dug the floor out a little so it would be more comfortable for them- though she could only do so much as the dirt of the floor only made up a small layer of it before it turned into solid stone- and fashioned a barricade between them and the outside world out of fallen branches from the tree nearby and any vines that she found. Using several rocks and loose stones that they found in the general vicinity, the two of them made a small fire pit in the back corner of their little hole, positioning it under a part where the “ceiling” of the hole was cracked. They decided this would both prevent the room getting too filled with smoke and making it difficult for them to breath and help prevent the cold air from seeping in through the hole; it was taking care of two birds with one stone. 

Dagur collected a great deal of firewood, stacking it up directly outside the opening of their hole and making sure that they had enough to get them all the way through the night and into the early morning. 

It didn’t take long for them to set up camp and, as soon as it was safely up and together enough that they both believed it would carry them through the night, Dagur turned to Eerika. 

“I’m going out to hunt.”

“You’re going to hunt?”

“What are you, deaf? Yes, I am going to hunt so we have something to eat tonight.”

Eerika glared at the tone he was using. This guy was such a jackass, “I was going to say you should be careful since we don’t know what lives here, but go ahead and get yourself killed if you want to be a jerk about it.”

“I won’t get myself killed- I’m not a moron,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Could have fooled me,” Eerika huffed, clearly not impressed. 

Shockingly, instead of trying to murder Eerika or screaming at her more, Dagur turned away from her and disappeared off into the forest, leaving to either get them a meal or die trying to. 

She didn’t have much faith in him. 

Instead of waiting around for him to return with news of his failure, Eerika turned to face the forest as well, heading in the opposite direction of Dagur. She wasn’t certain that there were any edible animals on this island and she didn’t know if any of them would be easy to catch. Something that was a safe bet to make on almost any island, though, was the fact that there was almost definitely some sort of wild fruit or berries that she could get her hands on. It was just a matter of finding it. 

~~~

Much to Eerika’s shock and appreciation, both of them had been successful in their excursions, each returning with their own bounty to share with the other. Dagur had found a herd of goats and had managed to kill one of them. By the time Eerika was back with enough fruit to keep them fed for a few days, he had already begun cooking the goat meat over the fire, and, even more surprisingly, he didn’t seem to be doing a horrible job of it either. 

“Finally back, I see,” Dagur looked up from the fire, taking a break from tending to the goat meat cooking over it for a moment, in favour of giving Eerika a smirk, cocking one eyebrow, “I’m surprised you survived.”

Eerika glared as she set down the fruit she’d gotten while she was out, “I’ve been living off the land away from actual society for years, of course I’m still alive.”

“You have your weird little friend and a whole family of dragons back on that island. You weren’t alone.”

“The dragons there tried to kill us when we first arrived just like they do with everyone else. Stop trying to make me feel bad about myself just so you can have a crappy little ego trip.”

Dagur glared at her, mouth twisting in a vicious sneer, “You know I don’t actually need to share any of this goat meat with you.”

“And I don’t have to share any of the fruit I got with you, don’t act like a toddler,” she sat down with a huff on a nearby log, carefully staying across from Dagur- right now she didn’t want to be close to him. He could be such a jerk sometimes. 

Whatever. They would make this work. 

~~~

That night, after Eerika fell asleep, Dagur silently slipped out of their temporary safehouse and made his way into the forest so he could begin collecting wood. Eerika was a fool if she believed that the two of them could possibly get off of this island without going through the ocean on ship. He wasn’t going to let her get both of them killed- if she wanted to stay here forever because she was too scared to go in the water to get herself out of here, then that was her own fault, but Dagur wasn’t going to allow that to happen to himself as well. 

He hadn’t built his own boat in a while, but he was a self-made man in most senses of the word, so he wasn’t completely helpless as he began working on it. He had a general idea of what he needed to do and the job became even easier once he sketched out a blueprint in the sand with a stick he’d found. 

Most of the night ended up being dedicated to building the boat that would hopefully get them- or at least him- off this horrible island and back to where he belonged. 

~~~

Dagur wasn’t too surprised to find himself alone in their cave when he woke up- he’d gone to bed significantly later than Eerika had considering the fact that he had been working on the boat during the night (and hiding it so she wouldn’t find it). 

Squinting against the blinding sunlight, Dagur exited the cave and looked around the immediate area of their little camp setup. They’d tied their food up in the branches of a nearby tree to prevent it getting eaten by or attracting predators and the fire had burnt itself out completely over the course of the night. Most importantly, though, Eerika was nowhere to be seen. She must have left camp to gather supplies or search for some way to contact her little friends or something. 

Dagur had no problem with his newly discovered alone time, though- it gave him more opportunity to head down to the shore and work on his boat more. Considering everything he had gotten done last night, he estimated that he could likely finish it entirely by the end of the day. They- or at least he- could probably leave by tomorrow- perhaps even tonight if he played his cards right and was able to make enough progress. 

Once he got down to the shore, though, he froze in his tracks at what he saw before him. 

The boat he had worked on and hidden so carefully had been completely dismantled, the planks of wood and logs torn from one another and scattered recklessly amidst the sandy ground, some of the pieces even dusted by the grains due to how frantically everything had been ripped apart. Some pieces that had been intertwined more accurately had been splintered apart as if the tirade that they had been victim to was so powerful that it simply couldn’t allow any of the boat to remain intact. 

In the middle of it all was Eerika. Right now, she looked more like a feral beast than a human- a snarl twisting her pretty features and making her look like a dragon preparing to destroy someone who had dared to disturb her hoard. She was tearing the last remaining scraps of the boat Dagur had made from one another with a nearly inhuman intensity, the slight muscles in her arms straining fiercely as she refused to be slowed down by her own human body while she went on her rampage. 

“What is wrong with you?!” 

Rage surged through Dagur’s body as he stormed through the wreckage of his creation and over to Eerika, knocking the pieces from her arms and to the ground, forcing her to instead focus on him. 

She met his steely gaze, matching the intensity of his snarl. She looked almost as pissed as Dagur felt. 

“You promised we wouldn’t go on the water.”

“Are you fucking stupid?!” Dagur seethed in response, “I spent all night working on that- if you hadn't gone and done that we would have been able to leave this shithole of a place by the end of the night!” 

“And sailed right into our deaths instead!” Eerika shot back, “You were going to get us killed with that!”

“The water isn’t as dangerous as you think it is you stupid little dragon spawn!” Dagur’s hand shot out to grab her face, gripped her jaw in a touch that felt more like a claw than a human’s hand as he reached for his knife with his free hand, “I should just fucking kill you for setting us back like this.”

Dagur took several steps forward, pressing her back with each advancing step he took, eventually forcing her back against a tree, pushing her into it enough that the knots of her spine dug into the bark of the tree painfully. The pressure he put on her throat was just enough to make it difficult for her to speak loudly or clearly. 

He should have known that he couldn’t trust Eerika to work alongside him. He should have known that they never would have been able to get off this damn island together- it would have to be one or the other and that one was going to be him. 

“Dagur-”

Dagur wasn’t particularly impressed by her attempts to speak to him. There was probably nothing she could say that he would find worth his while enough to change his mind. He had been a fool to think that she would do anything but hold him back. 

Eerika let out a deep breath- a waste of the small amount of oxygen she had remaining, “You have pretty eyes.”

…what?

Dagur was so shocked that he felt his grip on her slip a little and he took a step back, moving almost as though he were retreating from some terrifying, dangerous beast as opposed to a normal human who was smaller than he was and who he could probably kill easily if he tried to when she wasn’t accompanied by her cool weapons and her little dragon friend. 

Eerika pushed Dagur away a little more, giving herself enough space to step away from the tree she had previously been pinned up against. She curled in on herself a little bit, one hand coming up to rub gently at her throat, fingers ghosting over where Dagur’s previously had been enclosed around her fragile neck. 

“You think…” Dagur couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. It was so absurd that she had said that to him- was it genuine or had she just been trying to get him to stop? If that was the case, he supposed he could respect the fact that she had done something so manipulative to save her own skin… 

“Yes, I do,” she stood back up and swallowed hard, avoiding eye-contact and instead looking out at the ocean once more, searching it with a slightly fearful look in her eyes, “We can find another way to get out of this place. I promise.”

Without waiting for Dagur to respond to her, Eerika turned away from him and began heading back to their temporary camp, leaving him in the centre of the wreckage of the little boat he had worked on last night, dazed and confused. 

Dagur looked around himself at the remains of the boat, considering starting from scratch and working through the day and night until it was finished and just leaving when it was done so Eerika couldn’t get in his way or try to stop him. 

He didn’t. 

Instead, he left the pieces behind and followed her back, wondering if she had any plans, or if she was just being hopeful. 

~~~

Unbeknownst to Dagur, Eerika did, in fact, have a plan. Or, at least, she had some semblance of a plan.

During her little adventure of the day prior, she had run into a growth of strange, colourful leaves. They were oddly shaped and grew closely together, their stems tangling to hold them in their rightful place next to one another and the pale, bubble gum pink hue of the plant was beautiful and calming. 

As pretty as it was, though, Dagur wasn’t particularly impressed, “I fail to see how this is going to help us.”

Eerika plucked one of the sprouts and held it up, “When these catch flame, the smoke that they release is a bright, vivid pink. When you burn just one leaf, it’s just a small amount, but when you burn a whole patch like this…”

Dagur’s face brightened as what she was trying to insinuate seemed to sink in, “Smoke signals!” He let out a burst of cackling laughter, “Eerika! You’re a genius!”

Eerika’s face flushed at that. She didn’t get compliments from men that often- at least typically not men other than Silas. Hearing Dagur utter those words left her feeling… odd. She felt like her insides were warm and fluttering like the wings of a million very small dragons that were making their home inside of her.

Dagur stripped a large piece of bark off of a nearby tree as Eerika took two chunks of rock and struck them together repeatedly until she was finally able to create a spark and catch a flame over the patch of bright foliage. She struggled a little more than she typically did with lighting this one ablaze, a little thrown off by Dagur’s words even as the man moved on from their conversation and began going about his own business. 

Once they had cultivated the mess of weeds into a decent blaze, Dagur held the slab of bark above the billowing column of smoke, waiting a few moments between holding it over the fire and lifting it up to release the captured smoke, forcing the strawberry smog build and cling to itself beneath the bark, floating into the sky in large bursts in a pattern that was clearly humanoid and not randomly created by nature. 

Eerika prayed to the gods that her friends would see it. 

Evidently, the gods had heard her prayers and, as the flames were beginning to dwindle and with it, Eerika's hope of escape, she saw three dots over the horizon drawing nearer. 

"Look!" He shouted, pointing towards the figures slowly drawing closer. 

Dagur began dancing with even more intensity, trying to make the signal even more pronounced and obvious to whoever it was coming to their rescue. 

Eerika strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of the specks as they slowly became defined shapes and comprehensible figures with every passing moment. 

Misty Mountain confidently led the way towards them, eyes intensely focused on the swirls of pink that emanate from the surface of the island. Hiccup and Silas, each riding their respective dragons, trailed closely behind her, appearing just as fierce. 

A massive grin overtook Eerika's expression once the five of them finally came close enough to hear her as she screamed her welcome to them, "GUYS! WE'RE DOWN HERE!" 

With exclamations of excitement, the three dragons dove down to their level, stopping mere feet above the ground and barely catching themselves from slamming into the foliage beneath them with their hardly contained excitement to find their lost friends. 

Well. Friend. Singular. They were… less enthusiastic about seeing Dagur. 

“Dagur.” Hiccup’s expression darkened immediately upon seeing the man. As if the two were telepathically discussing a game plan, Toothless immediately began to charge up a plasma blast to hurl at the shorter, red-haired male. 

“WAIT!” Eerika leapt in front of him, arms stretched out to either side as if her small body could possibly protect him from an attack from anything matching the size and intensity of what Toothless had in store for their long-time enemy. 

Jerking his head to the side, Toothless stopped suddenly, him, his rider, and all of their present friends giving Eerika matching looks of surprise and confusion. 

Seeing that an attack upon Dagur was no longer iminent, Eerika stepped aside once more so that everyone could see Dagur again as she spoke, “He helped me. I don’t think I would have survived if I had been stuck here alone… we can’t kill him after that.”

“Do you think Dagur would afford you the same grace?” Hiccup asked, shooting Dagur a downright vicious and accusatory look. 

“Maybe not… but I don’t care. He helped me and I don’t want you guys to hurt him either way.”

Hiccup and Silas looked at one another, exchanging an expression that neither Eerika nor Dagur could ever hope to interpret regardless their knowledge of the two- despite the short amount of time the two had been alone, they seemed to have already developed an understanding of one another that was entirely different than the understanding that they had for anyone else. 

Almost like Eerika and Dagur had while there together. 

In sync, Hiccup and Silas turned to look back at the two of them, addressing them directly. 

“We will form a temporary truce since you didn’t hurt her,” Silas announced, “But if you do anything to any of us while we’re on our way back-”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dagur promised, “You have my word.”

With that, Misty Mountain swooped back down and allowed the two of them to climb upon her back, Dagur behind Eerika, his chest pressed so closely against her back that she could feel his heartbeat through his armour. 

With the beating of their hearts syncing up with the beating of their dragons’ wings, Eerika finally felt safe once more.

#how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd series #httyd fanfiction #httyd dagur #httyd oc #httyd race to the edge #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3fic #ocs

[nowis-scales]

After finishing Blood-Splattered Child you should post a behind the scenes with all your struggles writing it and call it Blood-Splattered Writer😂

Oh my goodness, can you imagine? It would contain such wonderful segments as:

• Yes internal critic, I know you think Ryoma is out of character here, but that’s because he tends to repress his emotions, and the whole point of this fic is to make him stop doing that

• Haha you thought this was therapy JUST for Ryoma? No, whole Hoshido family, figure out your issues

• Oh my god wait this research site says the attachment type that best matches Ryoma’s isn’t all that likely for him?

• Ah great now I’ve gotta make Ikona more of a dick for realism

• WAIT A MINUTE that attachment style is most likely to happen in a situation where the parents inconsistently respond to the child!! Why is Camilla an anxious attachment style? She’s the one who should be disorganized! Poor Ryoma. His more likely attachment style is only considered sexy on Camilla but not on him. No “I can fix him energy” for you

• Anyway yeah Ikona still has to be worse, but this just proves that the writers didn’t do their research… which I guess at the very least doesn’t disprove my pitch here so crisis averted!

• If we want to go by Fire Emblem’s “medieval” shtick I’ve technically pulled Japan’s (Hoshido’s) attempted colonization of Korea (Seonbi) like waaaay too early considering I literally watched propaganda films they made, but… it’s still the Meiji era so fuck it, it counts, it’s an inspiration anyway

• Oh okay if I want to write some of these symptoms Ryoma would probably need an ex��� I guess I have to make up a girlfriend for hi- WAIT. Akitomo is born.

• Aw shit, I shouldn’t’ve done friends to lovers with Ryotomo, now I’m attached to them as a couple and they’ve already broken up

• Alright and now I am going to write some of Ryoma’s insecurities and- whoops, that’s Takumi

• How do I write Ryoma and Hinoka close enough that she’s got some more insight than the others, but not so close that people start misconstruing their close relationship and telling me they don’t want to see either of them get with Camilla or Ryoma get with Felicia, and instead want to see them get with each other

• How do I get around having to research Meiji-era Japanese toilets for this scene?

• Spoiler alert: I did not get around researching Meiji-era Japanese toilets

• I need to think about balancing how often Ryoma’s problems are solved by his own volition and how often he is guided by the lesbians

• God, needing characters to come in and out from other countries is so annoying. Why’s everything gotta take so long? Can I use the Water Travel for the Vallites at least? Please?

• I am not writing Sumeragi close to how he canonically was, I’m just a child who was blessed with a great dad, so my reflex now when presented with this figure that is ambiguously a good dad is just to make a guy similar to my dad

• Oh fuck someone asked me why I made a particular choice and I can think of why I made it, but it needs evidentiary support, but I can’t find the evidentiary support anymore, goddammit!

• Oh god I almost implied that Ryoma and Felicia were already married by referencing the scene from their S-support where he makes the riceball for her during a platonic scene

• I need to stop putting my emotional intelligence onto Ryoma. He does not have that. It may be one of my strong points but it is not his

• Actually I need to stop doing this with the entire Hoshido family, they can’t all be emotionally intelligent but still have this many issues

… And that’s probably only the twenty I could come up with lol. If we tack on the actual personal life stuff that has happened while I’ve written it, then it could go on for much longer

#miscellaneous blood-splattered child content #unsuspecting-person asks

[mediicusvitae]

@ikkaku-of-heart​ asked: Pouring Lamy a steaming cup of coffee, Ikkaku shook her head, both amused and a little proud. "Dating an officer of the Revolutionary Army. You rebel. I approve. Sabo's a good guy, and so long as he treats you well I won't shock his nuts off. Well, unless Law orders me to. Then it'll depend on my mood," she teased with a wink.

Taking a sip of her own coffee, her smile turned rueful. Law had been fuming since he'd found out about his baby sister's blonde beau, but really, it could be so much worse. Yet of course the older Trafalgar was protective as hell, especially when he'd nearly lost her again, but the extent he was willing to go was ridiculous. And yet...

"I know I shouldn't feel envious," she said, leaning back in her chair, "but stupid as it is, I kinda am. I'm sure it's annoying as hell, having Law hound your boyfriend and threaten him and shit, but, well, I guess I can't help but wish he did that with me once in a while. I mean, Sabo's no angel, but generally, my taste is way, way worse than yours. And while Law's always been around to deal with the fallout if things with my lovers go south...I don't know. Guess I can't help but want it just because I never had it with my brothers. But logically I know I should count my blessings and be glad he doesn't spend his nights plotting how to kill who I'm sleeping with."

Lamy gave Ikkaku a bright grin in thanks as she handed her the mug with the blue bear on it. Milk, five scoops of sugar, perfectly roasted South Blue beans. Ambrosia for the mortals, warming her hands. The galley was deserted this early in the morning, except for the two women and a hungover Jakouushi snoring somewhere beneath the benches, nursing a bottle to his chest. She lifted the coffee to her lips to blow off the steam, but promptly burnt the tip of her tongue on the hot beverage at her words. “Ow—OW! HOT! Gaaaah!” she yelped, placing the cup down on the table before she fixated Ikkaku with a wide-eyed stare, pointing one of her fingers at her nose. “W-w-we're not d-dating!” she stuttered around her hurting tongue, completely flustered. Not officially, at least. All color drained from her face at the subtle threat to his manhood. “IKKAKU!” Lamy was blushing to the tips of her ears now, her face twitching as she grabbed the edge of the table.

But her crewmate carried on, seemingly unfazed by her nervous reaction. The shock from being put into the limelight slowly died down once it became apparant that she truly didn't mind their relationship, and Lamy listened, slowly coming to the realization that something else was weighing on Ikkaku's heart. Golden eyes watched her as the engineer talked, staring almost wistfully into the distance. Ah, there it was again... the oily green monster that had grown between their respective hearts from the moment her feet had touched down in the midst of a ruined warehouse. Envy.

She felt like it had shrunk ever since the Jailhouse Rock incident, ever since they had laid their hearts bare to one another. Less bite, more manageable. Tamed. Law had smacked some more sense into them both after she had woken up, just to make sure, smothering the barbed wires that had dragged across their hearts in surgical gauze.

Lamy squinted at her from her peripheral vision once she was done talking, running the twinging tip of her tongue along her teeth as she mulled over her answer. They had promised each other to be more truthful about their feelings in that moldy jail cell, and she intended to keep that promise. “I guess the other sea is always a nicer shade of blue,” she began with a sigh, her thumb rubbing over the unmarred skin on the back of her hand.

“I get where you are coming from, but for me, it seems like he doesn't trust me to be able to handle myself,” she admitted quietly. “I just want to be able to make my own decisions. We're the same age, but it feels like he only thinks of you as an adult... It might be due to all those years of our separation, but he trusts you enough to let you choose.” Frustration laced her words. Sure enough, Sabo's vest was as unblemished as an operating room covered floor to ceiling in viscera, but she wasn't exactly the epitome of innocence either. And it wasn't like she had gotten involved with the Revolutionary Army for the wrong reasons. She hadn't forgotten about her priorities, and their goals were the same. They both wanted to watch the World Government, and everything it stood for, burn.

And if the Chief of Staff held her hand and looked at her with that moribund flesh across his face, jagged and charred and crinkling with adoration as they assured each other of the inevitable deaths of their enemies? The enigmatic glints in their eyes an unspoken promise of the storms to come? Well... that was only a plus in her books.

“Sabo is wonderful. He just... lets me be my own person, if that makes sense. He doesn’t care where I came from, whose sister I am. It’s freeing.” Lamy somberly stared down at her reflection in the mug, rubbing her index finger along the coffee stains on the rim. “If I should get my heart broken, I want it to be my own terms, not because our brother decided that he has to threaten every single suitor that comes along with dismemberment.”

#{ oh this got LONG :')) } #{ thanks for sending Anubis <333 } #ikkaku-of-heart #ikkakuofheart #regensia #medicus-mortem #medicusmortem #{ tagging you both as well because you're to blame for this } #;ic #;asks #;children of embers - SaboLamy #v; reclaimed heart