#but I think the people close to scar close ranks to protect him once it’s revealed to the world who they are as well

[tesalicious2]

I feel like we need to appreciate Thire more, so this is for you buddy (other commanders are mentioned bc they have to be)

Thire is 9 at the start of the clone wars and quickly rises the ranks

He is very temperamental but has developed a certain patience that makes him seem calm

He is fact not calm and has a short fuse; he just bottles it up and will make your life a living hell through mild annoyances

Think of a robber who steals your tv remotes batteries, except he steals all the batteries in the house and makes buying any more batteries horrible and trying experience

Many GAR commanders are afraid of him and those that aren’t should be

Of the commanders group he is the ‘angry asshole’

Fox is ‘tired/bitch/rude asshole’, thorn is the ‘nice asshole’, hound is ‘obnoxious asshole’, and stone is ‘quiet/creepy (he stares a lot to convey his displeasure) asshole’

Thire is in charge of Senator escorts, specializing with off world missions. He works closest to Thorn who oversees the senate and the least with Stone (oversees the prison)

He has the most contact with the Jedi and somehow became Yoda’s favorite, getting specific requests for him

He has mixed feelings bc Yoda’s not bad company but he’s used as a sort of chair the whole time?

Since he’s the youngest, the others are very protective of him and this does annoy him but he loves with it

Make no mistake, Thire will easily commit murder

Stones face is all kinds of messed up, he’s missing a cheek on his left side exposing the teeth from a mad Trandosian during a riot turned mass escape attempt (they failed)

He keeps his head shaved because of the patchy growth around scars

He’s got so many scratch marks and chunks missing from things like that

This also applies to the rest of the Prison Guard, they are the most scarred group of corries

The prison has ARC troopers on staff constantly to discourage (they have taken down many a prisoner and use unconvential weapons to do it) riots and escapes

Though they rotate, ARC Trooper Whip is the only ARC who is a permanent fixture

Like his name suggests, he uses whips and is *incredibly* skilled with them, they are also electro whips (he can control whether they use electricity or not)

Hound is very bad with people and is the kind of person who can like perfectly understand animals

Thire has a mean streak and finds scaring newbies and visitors incredibly hilarious

His favorite massif is Runt (an exotic breed that’s twice the size of a normal massif (about 6’ standing on his hind legs)) and twwith the handler Trigger (has a height defect, being 2.5 in smaller than standard)

Both are pretty chill and Runt is especially lazy so they are free to get his victims the most

Runt looks scary as his spines are much longer and sharper, with an extra row of teeth and darker skin

This includes using sleeping ARF and massiffs to do so. He did this by getting his victim to wake up an ARF trooper. However, they often sleep with massifs. Often with their spines toward outside for defense and the person against the wall to watch for enemies. If they smell you first, they will bite your hand. So, Thire watches as deep and angry growl comes from the darkness and the shriek that comes from his victim.

Thire has a problem with the CSF often coming in on MP matters or dumping non MP matters onto them

Once a bomb went off incredibly close to 79s, a hole was put in the wall and several were injured. A Guard Clone duo was blasted through the wall and the medics who had been drinking were pulled away into keeping them alive

CSF shows up and is like ‘not important, blah blah’. Everyone is obvi pissed and eventually Thire arrives to deal with it

He just straight up says ‘you’re impeding an military investigation of a terrorist bombing. Move or you will be arrested and criminal charges will be pressed.’

[c0la-queen]

Tord Headcanons | The Stoic One

---

Let's start with his physical appearance!

My Tord has pale skin, since he is from Norway and doesn't get a lot of sun.

His hair is naturally that dark brown color that we see in Classic, but he dyes it the caramel brown color from Legacy- though, sometimes he can be seen with dark brown roots when he needs to touch up the dye.

My Tord has silver eyes, and I often describe them as piercing or being able to see through people. I think his eyes are one of the most unnerving parts of Tord, and makes people uncomfortable.

No facial hair- he shaves it if it starts to get stubbly.

Tord is the second tallest in my timeline, standing at 6'4 (I like my boys inhumanely tall). Edd is the only one taller than him and it pisses Tord off to no end.

I like to think Tord has the most athletic build of the group, being the military oriented one. He's not skinny and he doesn't have painfully unnatural muscles like you'd see in magazines. Think more along the lines of Chris Evans or Sebastian Stan. (Also has the juiciest man tiddies) Tord would alternate between going to the gym in the morning and going on morning runs through the neighborhood. He runs more often during the winter, since he's always thrived in cold weather. If Reader also liked working out or was interested in starting, he'd gladly let them join him. I think he'd even teach them self defense if they asked.

Because I think Tord would have some connection to his cultural roots, my Tord has a small tattoo of Yggdrasil on his collarbone, and an even smaller protection rune on one of his wrists. He has a piercing hole in one of his ears that he sometimes wears a simple black stud in; he got it pierced during his emo phase in high school.

Family life:

Tord is an older brother is one younger sister. He practically raised her until he moved out.

His dad was Red Leader before him and put him through intense training. Turned him into a child soldier. Resents his dad for it all.

Only time he ever argued with his dad is when he tried to give his sister the same training- Tord refused to let him.

Worst thing his dad ever did was make Tord do wilderness survival for 3 nights in a Norwegian forest. He was 12.

A Eurasian Lynx managed to find him, but he got away with only claw marks on his back. He's still got the scars.

He doesn't hate his mother, but he's not particularly close with her. Because his training started from such a young age, he spent most of his childhood around his father and other high ranking soldiers.

Cares a lot about his little sister and travels home to see her once or twice a year.

Now, personality:

My Tord is very apathetic sometimes, but mainly is just kind of calm and chill.

He likes to say that he'd rather be with his machines and inventions than other humans, but that's a bullshit lie and he's just being dramatic

Prefers being quiet, doesn't say a lot unless its under specific circumstances or he has commentary to give. He enjoys listening to Reader ramble endlessly, or just have her in his arms while he silently does some task.

He switched from cigarettes to vapes after a while, since its better than smoking and has more flavors available.

Likes energy drinks more than coffee, enjoys the variety they offer.

Actually pretty good at cooking, he'd cook for himself and his sister when his parents were busy with work.

Way smarter than he looks. If he had to take the ACT, he'd probably get a nearly perfect score.

A STEM girlie. He uses the garage as his workshop and spends most of the day there (not counting weekends).

Absolutely has a motorcycle in the garage. He rides it if he's having a low day and needs to get away. Has a special route that takes him the long way through the city before ending up at the cliff overlooking the neighborhood (the one we see in The End). Takes Reader on that route to cheer her up or clear her head. One time they fell asleep on the cliff and woke up to several calls from Edd, Tom, and Matt, who were all scared shitless.

Never gets cold. If someone comments on it, he says its "nothing compared to Norwegian cold." (The others are all tired of hearing that and roll their eyes)

Despite this, he's not dumb. He knows how to stay warm and how important it is. Will scold Reader for not wearing enough layers.

His music taste is so mixed up and wild that nobody can give it a name.

Probably reads the most out of the four, will never tell you what he's reading.

Gets angry about historical inaccuracies.

Not allowed to play Trivial Pursuit because he knows a bunch of random facts.

"Kill yourself." "This is why we can't have nice things."

Likes Super Smash Brothers and can create ass kicking combos for any character in a couple of rounds.

He works as a mechanical/chemical engineer. Works independently by taking commissions for blueprints and fixing machines for people. He mostly works at home in the garage but very rarely has to go to another location. He prefers to have the client talk to him over the phone or meet him.

Likes Liquid Death Mountain Water.

Smokes cigars occasionally, usually on special events.

Smells like smoky wood and vanilla.

Does some art every so often, but not as often as Edd.

Vibes/Aesthetic:

Red LED lights as the only light source

Night so late the entire house is silent

Sneaking out of the house to get candy and drinks at the gas station

Sleep Token playing on the drive

Anime on his laptop

Making battery acid drinks together

Fucking instead of sleeping

Athletic shorts and hoodies

Thigh high socks

Late night drives

Vape clouds and suckers

Trying to stay quiet

Playlist (Based off my Own Spotify Playlist for Him):

Sleep Token

CORPSE

Hollywood Undead

Twenty One Pilots

Kanye West

Childish Gambino

Eminem

Glass Animals

Rob Zombie

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

hi! i just reached crimson badlands in my current playthrough so how do you think sve bachelors, particularly the mages and adventurers, react to farmer (their s/o or spouse) asking them, "if i turned into a fallen adventurer, are you going to kill me?" it's like 'if i turned into a big, will u still love me?' but feel free to sprinkle some or make it angst btw!! i love ur works <33

OK, dear anon, got it 👍 Just a little pinch of angst, and- *accidentally dumped a whole bag of angst* Oops... Erm, to be fair, this headcanon would be sad either way you look at it, because no one can handle the corruption in Crimson Baldlans yet, and accordingly none of the adventurers have any answers on how to at least help the lost souls. So.... yeah, thanks for the ask! 💕

PS: I'm a bit confused about the "particularly mages and adventurers" thing, since available candidates from this category is Lance and Magnus. Or did you mean like future candidates too? I will leave available candidates this time, hope it's ok for you! 💖

_________________________________________

Victor:

"What...?"

Victor knows for the existence of magic in general, of adventurers and wizards that protect ordinary people like him from monsters or worse that lurk in the dark depths, of various wonders. Since Farmer had become his partner, his knowledge of these noble monster hunters and masters of the arcane arts had become even more extensive. Victor had understood perfectly well the risks of such work even before he and Farmer had officially started dating. Understood, feared for them, but always supported them in their urge to protect. However, the idea that his lover's job could be so dangerous, and the very possibility that they could meet an end worse than death... What could he, a simple guy with a passion for building bridges, do to an armed man? Especially a man close to him?

"There's always a solution, I'm sure." No, he's not sure of his words at all.

Magnus Rasmodius:

"...."

Magnus tore his gaze away from the gurgling cauldron to look his spouse in all seriousness in the eye. Ever since Camilla pointed them in the direction of the Crimson Baldlans, Farmer has travelled almost once a week on a perilous journey into the cursed lands where even the most hardened warriors can easily fall to the fangs and claws of the most fearsome of creatures. Each time they take a risk, in the name of protection, in the name of an idea, in the name of riches and glory, while Magnus stays in their shared farmhouse, praying to Yoba and the spirits that his spouse will return alive. Praying that the urgent message from Camilla would not be the very thing the old wizard feared most. Fearing that he would not have to face their body, scarred by black magic.

"That is my duty. If I have to, I will put an end to it." And that was a lie.

Lance:

*Sigh* "Do you really want to hear my honest answer?"

Castle Village has been home to Lance for most of his life, and as a local and adventurer, he knows full well what awaits anyone who dares to step foot in the sands that have been soaked in the blood of men and monsters for decades. Before the corruption of unknown origin, this place was already dangerous, and now instead of simple death, fallen warriors and wizards can become the living dead, cursed to wander forever knee-deep in these sands until a brave soul comes to the end of their suffering. These brave men were many.... And many have not returned, for to see your friend, parent or child as 'fallen', and you will involuntarily feel a hesitation, a shiver in your hands at the realisation that the one you lost is finally found. It is enough to make a living warrior join the ranks of the dead.

"I must. But... I don't think I can." Even he has weaknesses that will make him hesitate, and his lover as a fallen warrior.... is one of those.

[fionajames]

my OCs

Sorry this took so long guys! It was long to type out and I also have a good excuse: I was at basketball and cut my big-toe-nail in half horizontally so had to clean and bandage and what not.

My puppy says hi, btw! (She sat on my lap as I typed this. She was for once not hyper and when she's like that I cuddle her as close as possible.)

@skellymom you asked to be tagged when I posted this so here you go! :D

I rlly hope y'all like this: I've had these guys for a while but never typed up all this stuff.

ALSO IF SOMEONE WANTS TO DRAW THESE GUYS (IDK WHY YOU WOULD CAUSE IM LIKE, IDK, I JUST DONT THINK PEOPLE CARE ABOUT ME AND MY STUFF) THEN GO AHEAD I WOULD LITERALLY CRY OF APPRECIATION

Enjoy!

Request things please!!!

STUFF BELOW THE CUT ITS JUST SUPER LONG!!!!!

OCs included:

Dhole

Vector

Menace

Dice

Bloodshot

Xi

Mit

Vick

Meerrt

Dhole (CT-8019)

Dhole is a member of the Coruscant Guard and has curly black hair with the ends dyed the same red as the red armour. His helmet is designed with striking resemblance to both Wolffe and Fox’s.

He has the trademark tan skin as the rest of the clones as well as dark brown eyes and two obvious scars; one on his chest and the other covering his entire left arm.

Dhole is a literal ray of sunshine and when he was a cadet, he constantly followed Wolffe and Fox around - which gave him his name. My idea is that Dholes do exist in Star Wars but they are rare and only live on one planet. Dholes look like a combination of a fox and wolf. 

Everyone in the Coruscant Guard is super protective of Dhole because he’s so sweet and literally cheers up everyone. The 104th thought Wolffe was like the scariest person ever and wasn’t soft to anyone until one day they got back from a mission and their Commander was barrelled over by an energetic ray of sunshine and the entire 104th gasped when Wolffe smiled. Their reaction was priceless.

Dhole makes friends with basically everyone, even Senators he’s in charge of watching over. One time, he befriended and saved Bail Organa who then told Fox if Fox didn’t promote Dhole, Bail would join the Separatists. Fox gladly gave Dhole the rank of ARC Trooper.

Dhole befriended Ahsoka once and when he heard about how Tarkin was being sexist and racist he grabbed his pistols to go kill him without a moments hesitation. It took Fox, Thorn and Vector holding him back to stop him.

He did the same thing when he heard Palpatine denying Fox time off work, but overall loves his job. Dhole is very sweet, but also protective in a strange way. He won’t hesitate to hurt/kill someone if they’ve hurt his friends or brothers and most likely will get away with whatever he’s done.

He’s the sunshine of the Coruscant Guard and you hurt him, you die.

Vector (CT-8124)

Vector is a member of the Coruscant Guard and best buds with Dhole. They are quite similar as they are both kind and sweet except Vector is a lot shier. Vector got his name from a little boy he saved as a shiny. The boy asked what his name was and Vector had to explain he didn’t have a name. The boy almost cried before telling Vector that they could share a name - and dubbed him Vector as that was also the boy’s name.

He is the definition of ‘the poet’ from ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos. His smart and quiet, but when he speaks up, everyone listens. No one but Dhole really knows his opinion on his work - but he really isn’t bothered by it. The only thing Vector hates doing is paperwork because whilst he’s the best out of the Guard in getting it done fast and well, he finds it boring and time-consuming.

Vector has the same tan skin as the rest of the clones and honey gold eyes. He has brown hair that's dyed blonde on the ends. He has a scar that goes from his right eye, over his nose and then down to the base of his neck. He got the scar from a piece of shrapnel during the First Battle of Geonosis - as all clones (apart from those still on Kamino) participated in the battle.

Everyone in the Guard loves Vector - although in a different way to the way they adore Dhole - and it’s well-known that wherever Dhole is, Vector will be hiding behind him quietly in the shadows.

Vector’s helmet is the same as the regular Corrie helmet except he has a little sun emblem on the forehead - whether it's a nod to Dhole’s sunny nature or not, no one really knows.

Because Vector is so quiet and introverted, he mostly just hangs around with Dhole - and their inseparable - but he also loves Cody, as his Ori’vod respects his silence and is the only other person to figure out a type of communication Vector is okay with.

Menace (CT-7874)

Menace is like Hardcase combined with Fives as a Coruscant Guard member. He’s caff addicted because he loves the energy hit and would probs do drugs if Fox didn’t yell at him so much every time he thought out-loud what it would be like to take them. He’s done deathsticks several times but isn’t addicted cause he’s smart in how he takes them.

Menace got his name because that's what he is - a menace. He’s moody and smart, daring and proud but overall he causes enough chaos that he should be a 501st trooper. He’s best friends with Dice and Bloodshot, and is the bad influence of everyone. He’s got the classic look of a clone trooper except dark brown hair instead of black hair. Menace has a scar covering his left eyebrow from being attacked by an assassin who was trying to kill a senator. Although Menace is chaotic and stupid and fun, he’s devoted to his work and does work very well. He’s kind of like the Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine Nine) of the Coruscant Guard. Menace is the ‘soldier’ again from ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos. He’s strong and dedicated, and too determined to be knocked down.

Him, Hardcase and Fives get along like a house on fire and have collectively taken days of sleep from Rex and Fox. His helmet is the classic Corrie helmet although the top left side is completely painted black with licking ginger flames around it - to symbolise Menace’s first helmet which got destroyed in a bombing.

Dice (CT-6346)

Dice has short black hair, tan skin and brown eyes - like the classic clone look. He’s never bothered to change his hair or anything. He has a burn scar that covers his right eye and eyebrow, and a torso scar from his left ankle all the way up his leg and back that ends at his collarbone. Dice is also a member of the Coruscant Guard. He’s the definition of the moon personality - very private about his anxieties and such. 

Captain Rex met Dice when he was a shiny and gave him his name upon witnessing the clone bargain his way out of a situation. Dice is a legend and board/card games and is incredibly smart. When dealing with a particularly hard case, Fox always turns to Dice for help. He’s smart, thoughtful and calculating, but he’s a really nice person too. He’s not introverted or extroverted and is just happy to help. Dice loves his work because he loves the challenges different cases provide and finds them interesting to explore. 

Dice has the classic Corrie clone trooper helmet except a red dice simple in the middle of the forehead.

Whilst Dice is best friends with Menace and Bloodshot, he’s really close with Rex because he’s the one who gave him his name. Dice can be a little chaotic but he’s usually pretty chill - but always chill with Rex. They get along so well because Rex seems him as a combination of Fives and Echo - smart, funny, kind and everything else.

Bloodshot (CT-3496)

Bloodshot is the ‘king’ of ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos, and he’s the most serious of the group. He and Fox get along like a house on fire because their both so tired of the Guard’s antics. He’s a sweet and kind guy and quiet but not in a shy way. Quiet in a menacing way. 

Bloodshot has short light brown hair, tan skin and brown eyes, and he’s extremely fit. He has a going from his stomach up his chest, over his neck that hooks around his right ear. He got the scar when he was attacked by an assassin - crazy similar to Menace. He’s dedicated to his work because its his work and no one really knows his other thoughts on the topic.

Bloodshot’s helmet is a regular Corrie helmet with splotches of red over the eyes and a red ‘blood-drop’ on the forehead.

Bloodshot got his name because he drinks a lot of caff - religiously, like man must drink caff - and that causes his eyes to go bloodshot quite a lot. He’s humble about how talented he is as a fighter and extremely quick-witted. When Bloodshot yells ‘Shut up!’ everyone freezes. He’s not the eagerest to do things, but isn’t lazy in the slightest.

If someone is upset you can count on Bloodshot and Dhole going to hunt down and kill whoever hurt their Vod. 

No one really understands why Menace, Dice and Bloodshot are so close but they click in a way that you can tell means their platonic soulmates and the truest of brothers.

Bloodshot managed to gain Plo Koon’s love when he rescued a stray-runaway-Youngling and returned her to the Kel Dor. He’s the Ori’vod of the group and is the only possible (apart from Dhole) who can convince Fox to sleep, and takes his responsibility with pride. Although, he probably needs sleep just as much as the Commander.

Xi (CT-5113)

Xi is a member of the 501st and has wavy black hair that falls to just below his ears, brown eyes, tan skin and a small Republic symbol tattooed on his nose. He also has a scar from the tip of his middle finger on his right hand that travels up to his elbow that he got from a crash-landing. 

Xi is sort of a combination between the soldier and king from (yet again) ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos. He’s funny and kind yet courageous and loyal. Rex is extremely proud of Xi because he’s done many things that have rightfully earned him his ARC Trooper status. Although many people don’t believe it at first, Xi is a strangely good mechanic - and is often the one to fix things in time-ticking situations. 

He’s best friends with Mit and is absolutely obsessed with music. Like, most listen to music. 

Other than Rex and Mit, Xi gets on with Jesse and Fives amazingly as they share several similar personality traits. They once had a bit too much to drink and got lost on Coruscant but that's a story for another time. 

Ahsoka and Xi also get along because Xi is always by her side - no matter what. He would be crushed if anything happened to her. Like his Padawan, Anakin and Xi are friends because of their loyalty, but also love for mechanics. It’s not rare to find them ranting about mechanics together.

Xi’s helmet is similar to Fives except he has painted a blue ‘scar’ over the right eye to match Anakin’s and the left half of the face has Ahsoka’s face markings except in blue. There are two ‘teardrops’ underneath the right eye - which Tup later copied. 

Xi is slightly more extroverted then he is introverted but he hides his emotions a lot because he fears that he is being weak and that others have bigger problems than him so he shouldn’t complain. One time, he bottled his emotions up for so long he eventually shattered and Rex spent hours with him calming him down.

Mit (CT-5114)

Mit has a black buzzcut, tan skin and gold eyes with several small scars but none extremely big or noticeable. He’s a member of the 501st and was promoted to ARC Trooper at the same time as Xi for an amazing mission they completed all by themselves. His helmet is the ARC Trooper helmet - like Fives’ - but he has the visor outlined in blue - like Rex’s - and two matching teardrops to Xi’s under the right eye. He has a star personality as he is fun to be around and focuses on enjoying life. Mit’s funny, soft, gentle and brave and contrasts Xi in several ways. Mit is more of a rules-follower than Xi and gets along with Echo well because of it. He and Kix also get along for reasons they don’t really understand.

Mit’s a bit more introverted than extroverted, which contrasts well with Xi, who’s the opposite. Whilst Xi bottles up his emotions, Mit is a lot calmer than that, and very in control of his negative emotions. If he really needs to vent, he will go to Xi or Kix. 

Mit really loves reading, and will basically read anything he can get his hands on. It’s not rare to find him dangling from his bed with a datapad scrolling through a book too deeply fixated to hear anything anyone else is saying. 

Because he loves to read so much, Mit is the resident clone-translator, and together he and Obi-Wan have translated many things for the others. Sometimes, the two will have conversations in front of others in a different language just to annoy them, and that's where their friendship formed. Mit once saved a small Nautolan boy who only spoke Nautila and managed to get him home. Whilst Xi is good at mechanics, Mit is smart in languages and random knowledge, and the pair use those skills to help the 501st get out of a lot of difficult situations.

Vick (CT-2323)

Vick has neatly cut black hair, tan skin and brown eyes - the classic clone look, just like Dice. He has three triangular scars on his right arm and a scar covering his stomach that he earned when he was attacked by a beast during a mission. He’s a member of the 212th. Vick is the soul/heart as he is very upfront with his beliefs and heart-strong instead of head-strong. He’s sarcastic, brave and kind with everything he does and Cody adores him for it.

Vick’s helmet is the classic 212th clone trooper helmet with two yellow triangles - points facing down - on the cheeks. He’s best friends with Meerrt as they balance each other out extremely well.

Vick is close with Cody as they share the same stupid recklessness but love for the others of their troops and their General. Obi-Wan and Vick get along very well after Vick, Cody, Meerrt and Obi-Wan once got stranded together on a mission and they all discovered Vick’s strange talent in tea-brewing. Now, when they want tea, they hunt down Vick and beg him to make them the drink.

Vick hates drugs and deathsticks but likes to drink on the occasion, as it helps numb the constant reminder of the war. Cody and him sometimes barricade themselves in the barracks and drink till they can’t remember their names in sorrow, side by side for comfort.

When the 212th were on Ryloth, Vick befriended a Twi’lek boy who he constantly denies having a crush on - but most of the 212th don’t believe him. They manage to catch up occasionally and Vick always comes back grinning.

Vick absolutely adores learning about new and different cultures - not the food, as Meerrt has asked several times, no, he loves learning about their non-food-culture. Upon going to new planets, he sticks with Obi-Wan if they don’t speak the same language and asks for translations, which the General happily does.

Meerrt (CT-2361)

Meerrt looks the same as Vick although his hair is slightly longer and scruffier. There is a burn scar covering his left ear and as a result the hair around it was singed slightly so he buzzed it and also has weaker hearing in that ear. 

When Vick, Obi-Wan, Cody and him were stranded and they discovered Vick’s tea-making skills, Meerrt got burned in the crash that led to his scar.

He has the classic 212th helmet with a yellow sun emblem on the forehead - similar to Vector’s - and yellow stars on the sides. 

Meerrt loves astronomy deeply and endlessly, and spends hours researching it. He has a sun personality meaning he’s slightly more extroverted and bubbly, all smiles for days. He’s encouraging, sweet and funny and the kinda guy you go to for a hug.

Meerrt gets on with Cody because he can cuddle up to the Commander and not get reprimanded or teased for it. Sometimes a clone needs sleep and affection. He also gets along well with Waxer as they both met little kids they sheltered and protected for a bit.

Meerrt met a little Togrutan boy whilst on a mission - who later turned out to be Force-sensitive and was taken to the Temple - who he immediately bonded with. Meerrt had a breakdown when they were separated and stayed gloomy for weeks.

Meerrt doesn’t really like alcohol, deathsticks or anything of the sort but juice like its water. Whenever he can, Meerrt buys as much juice as possible to keep and savour. 

Meerrt is a really heavy sleeper and - like most other clones - often has night terrors. He’s mostly silent during these - unlike Vick who screams and thrashes like he’s being attacked and makes everyone pity him - but often seeks comfort from either Vick or Cody afterwards and have a cup of hot chocolate.

Meerrt’s favourite planet they’ve been to is Naboo - where he first participated in the Blue Shadow Virus mission - and he’s visited several times. He once met Padme who showed him around her planet and they built a sweet friendship because of it. 

*sighs* that was VERY long and I apologise to anyone who read all of that.

Thoughts on my ocs, please share?!

If anyone wants oneshots/headcanons with these guys (or not!) please please please pleasseeeee tell me!!!!!!

Have a lovely day/night/whatever your time is!!!

[unveiled-if]

❝ — You have to understand that the one I killed is me, changing what I was for what you wanted me to be.  ❞

Alec Benjamin - If I Killed Someone For You

TW: Kidnapping, torture.

In her hands she held wrath, a spark of hatred fueling her life. Closed eyes paint a vivid image of bloodshed and rotten teeth behind smirking lips. From an artistic child grew a monster, prodded and poked with pain and harsh words to school a killer out of a human divided wolf. In time, lines blurred between beast and human; only victory mattered. From steel bars sizzling with static charge to the barrels pointed through them, a girl learned to survive by any means necessary.

Although her spirit lay broken, her instinct to protect other children that came after never diminished. She was the one to lunge, snap, and snarl whenever one of them was to be brought out, only so her captors would turn their ire on her, and not the others. She took the pain of others until one day the darkened basement flooded with flickering lights through the thick metal door. A barrel of a gun that pointed towards her captors instead of her was a change, and a brain so trained to be numb never realized she had been saved.

Ten years of dark rooms and pain ended. Lydia was brought to the light, eyes squinting at the daylight. Around her, a swarm of people, voices she never heard before, whispering. Kind eyes looked at her with worry, not malice. No rotten teeth or electric prods, but a blanket on her scarred shoulders.

Only thirteen, but already jaded to the world; that’s what she had overheard in the institute she was to stay in. White walls and white coats slowly coaxed her mind back and eased the rabid wolf still lingering beneath the surface. She slowly learned how to be an individual and stopped snapping at those trying to get close.

At eighteen, they released her. While others would think she was tossed aside once she was old enough, she was tentatively curious about the outside world. After traversing without a goal for a while, she found her way to the military, and joined a division for her kind. A place where her past actions of violence could be used for something. Many said it was misguided and a risky enlistment; still, she stayed.

Yet, if not for this decision, she wouldn’t have found the man who treated her as a sister, an equal, and never flinched at her history. Through him, she found a pack, a purpose, and those people around her slowly thawed a petrified heart and taught her that sometimes there are better things to fight for than just survival.

On the Agent:

Lydia has never met them. Then again, Lydia hasn’t met many of the denizens of Voit City, and many of the residents and species there are new to her now that her mind is her own and not clouded by a blind fighting instinct. She will be cold and indifferent to begin with, but there’s a spark of curiosity there, too; she never fought a Fae, and the magic around them smells... Safe.

Connections

BEAU

Her and Beau have known each other since she joined the army. Although he was older, and higher in rank, he didn’t look down on her and had no idea about her turbulent past. Although her aloof nature kept everyone else at bay, he never gave up on her. Slowly, she started speaking back, and such openness lead to a friendship that could weather anything the world was to throw at them. Once Beau was required to stay in the city, for his pack, she made the decision to stay as well, fully integrating into the pack as one of their own.

Character sheet:

[samithemunchkin]

Keegan and Sage headcanons

ok ok I've finally sort of thought of few. Just generic headcanons and set in the fics I've written with them. Still have no idea what I'm doing, pls I'm so open for any questions, suggestions anything at all. Don't know if I should do a relationship headcanon one.

Keegan

Horrible childhood, still haven’t figured it out fully because I keep veering into the same ideas I already have for Mitchell and I wAnT iT tO bE different

Ran away when he was 15, he might have been lanky but already tall and being abused made him pass as an 18 year old so he could enlist

Operation Sand Viper was his first actual mission, kinda got assigned by accident but they were lacking manpower and didn’t look too closely who they sent

Pretty much had an absolute meltdown once the fighting died down and Rorke was the one who found him first 

Trauma bonding and admiration and boom, Keegan felt like Rorke acted way more like an actual father than his own ever had

Rorke found out his actual age but instead of outing him, he offered to find him a place in the Marines to get a few more years of actual training under his belt before he’d let Keegan join Ghosts full time

During Operation Return to Sender, Rorke had made Keegan attend some mandated Marine training, idk quite how it all works but completing it would make him a sergeant, hence why he wasn’t with the rest of them.

And boy did that leave him with terrible guilt/anger/even more trauma

Became more stoic and withdrawn after that

Man hasn’t probably eaten a single home cooked meal in his life, doesn’t know what healthy eating means, would probably hiss at vegetables and fruits. He’s lived fine on bland mush and MRE’s so far and would be a giant baby about trying actual foods

Craves physical touch, pats on the back, hugs, will inwardly melt at praise but doesn’t exactly know how to express that need

Human furnace

Hates his scars

Adores cats, will try to befriend all the strays at whatever base he’s at

Also likes dogs

Basically any animal tbh, likes how he doesn’t have to talk to them, just his attention and affections are enough

Does not want to lead, hates the pressure and responsibilities, it’s why he’s never wanted to raise in rank any higher than a sergeant

Touchy drunk but there are three stages of it, beer makes him loose and touchy, hard alcohol makes him touchy and horny, red wine will make him touch the ground because his legs stop working

Sage

Grew up on a farm, had a few horses and had fully planned to follow her parents’ footsteps and take over the farm at one point, even went to agriculture school and all

But after graduation she decided to enlist to the US Army

Little brother also in the army

Got injured pretty badly during one mission, haven’t really figured out the exact scenario but her actions saved her unit and/or civilians or something, while she was recovering Elias contacted her to ask her if she’d like to join his team

Whatever the mission was, it involved some bad people that still live so as to protect her family, she asks Elias if her file and all records of her service can be destroyed, hence why she only goes by her call sign

Quiet but friendly and sarcastic 

Analyses everything. And I mean everything, always thinking, observing, notices minuscule details

Quickly becomes someone who everyone go to for advice or just to talk

Likes to tinker and do things with her hands, if there’s any renovation needed to be done at any base they’re at she’s more than willing to help out on her free time

Is not used to touch but doesn’t flinch away from it either

Also loves animals, they had plenty of them on the farm

Has absolutely horrid circulation, is always freezing and it only gets worse once she starts taking medications for her ataxia

Has always been a bit of accident prone

Has a big indent on her right thigh from being kicked by horses on it twice. There’s just basically a hole in her thigh muscle with raised edges

Likes how the team feels like a family but it’s constantly vary that bad things can happen at any time to any of them so she’s almost afraid to enjoy it fully

No matter how much she drinks alcohol, she will not appear drunk. She can be black out drunk and none would be the wiser until she pukes or manages to pass out on her bed. Not a chance that she’d let herself pass out anywhere else

[respondedinkind]

Character Sheet (Alien Verse)

basics.

full name. Khan Noonien Singh (Ka'anh formerly) nicknames / aliases. None age. Unknown, probably somewhere between 35 and 40 in human years zodiac. Unknown spoken languages. His native alien language, English

physical characteristics.

hair colour. Raven; Black, but with a bit of a brown tint in direct (sun)light eye colour. Blue (shifting in between steel blue and blue-green depending on the surrounding light) skin tone. Fair body type. Fit, muscular but agile at the same time, with a slender mid-section dominant hand. He prefers his right hand, but is actually ambidextrous posture. Good; He usually sits with his back straight and stands tall and proud scars. His body heals too efficiently, scars usually do not appear, yet he does have a very small one on his bottom lip tattoos. None birthmarks. A small, dark brown spot right above his left buttcheek, where his spine curves in, about 1 inch in size. Besides that, he's got a few small moles and birthmarks scattered all over his body most noticeable features. His face; Especially his eyes (+ intense gaze), jaw-line, shape of his lips

childhood.

place of birth. His home planet siblings. None parents. Unknown

adult life.

occupation. None (Thread-dependent; He either is still on earth and used as an experiment / chased after once broken free, or he manages to gain the Enterprise crew's trust and is allowed to work as a makeshift-technician and researcher (blue shirt)) residence(s). None (Thread-dependent; He either is a prisoner still at Section 31 or he's fleeing from Marcus. Or - if allowed - the Enterprise becomes his (temporary) home) close friends. None (Thread-dependent; he feels very close to @sxbaist (romantic interest) and sees @noblehcart's Liesel as a friendly person to hang out with, more people are hopefully to come :D (I think he could get along well with @darehearts Kirk :) ) relationship status. Single (Thread-dependend, because there's definitely something going on in threads with @sxbaist *wink* ) financial status. There is none driver’s license. No criminal record. Yes, including murder (blew up Starfleet's Section 31, which, as a result, caused high-ranked Starfleet personnel to be called into an emergency meeting, which he attacked as well in an attempt to kill Admiral Marcus) vices. Loves sweet foods - and, despite unable to get drunk, enjoys the occasional glass of good Bourbon if possible

sex & romance.

sexual orientation. Pansexual (leaning heavily toward men) preferred sexual role. Whatever works best / switch libido. Quite high turn-ons. Having his ears touched / kissed(!), kissing in general, teasing & flirting, eye contact, emotional closeness, when his partner smells nice, having someone talk dirty to him, a bit of rough play when the mood fits, but also soft touches and cuddling turn-offs. Blood & Gore, when he's expected to 'do all the work', certain kinds of degradation (not fitting the moment / too mean / too personal), when someone smells bad, disrespecting him love language. Nicknames (sometimes), being a bit cheeky & teasing his partner (playfully so), touching his partner, being (overly) protective, making sure his loved one is safe (at all costs), would give his life for someone he loves (always), sex (his libido is very active when he's in love with someone), kissing, hugging & cuddling relationship tendencies. Khan is actually a softie and very affectionate

miscellaneous.

hobbies to pass time. Watching people and his surroundings, listening to music & sounds, learning about earth & human culture, learning about other planets & foreign cultures in general, researching, fiddling around with technical stuff mental illnesses. Unknown self-confidence level. High to very high

Stolen from: My old blog Tagging: @sxbaist @darehearts @ensnchekov @vulku @fasciinating @deficd (whichever muse you like), @noblehcart (whichever muse you like) and whoever reads this and wants to do it, take it! ♥

[casspurrjoybell-32]

*Warning Adult Content*

LET'S TALK - Chapter 2

Naylan

It's been a month since my encounter with the Coyote/Wolf.

I hadn't told anyone about it.

Not my pack mates, not my brother and not even Alpha Georgiou.

I had kept the information to myself and stole an extra glance at the woods I had met him at any time I walked past it.

Sometimes, I would hear rustling from above the trees and sometimes I would hear footsteps skittering about but then they would quickly fade into the distance when I paused to address them. 

'Is he following me?' I would wonder, feeling my chest flutter from the thought of him shifting through the dense forest to keep an eye on me.     

Aside from that, nothing much has changed.

We proceeded to build the storage houses in the cleared space and we got wolves from Georgiou's and Noah... the leader of the park surrounding the country club... to help us.     

I didn't see my brother often but I talked to him through text and video called him when I could.

I had become a lot less worried about his relationship with Len.

They had mated and Adyen flaunted the scar on his neck with a smile.

They seemed to be treating each other well, so I became less protective.     

"Shit," my voice got caught in my throat when I noticed someone had almost run into me.      

"I'm sorry," they said, watching as I dusted down my clothes.

"I thought you would move, I didn't think that you weren't paying attention," he continued to ramble, making me look over at the shaking wolf with mild annoyance.

I knew that my natural position as an Alpha on the hierarchy affected how I was treated.

It didn't matter how nice I was as a person.

I was bigger, faster... I would always be more intimidating to people with lower ranks.

Even adults like Alpha Georgiou.     

My chest fluttered when I remembered my mate.

He hadn't been afraid of me.

If anything, he almost wiped the floor with me.

A smile crept up my lips at the memory as I turned to the boy again.

I shrugged my shoulders to show that I wasn't upset.

"It's okay," I said and I watched as he visibly relaxed.    

"I'm going inside to take a rest," I announced when he didn't say anything in response.

He looked confused at first but gave me an awkward smile back when I told him to run along.

He gave me an intense look, before running off with the other teenagers they had been standing around with.

A sigh left my lips as I continued making my way to my cabin.      

We had elected to build small durable ones that were raised from the ground with stilts.

The cabins each had a bedroom attached to a bathroom and that was it.

They had very tiny porches too.

Most people used them to look around and smoke.

When I came up to mine, I climbed the stairs up the porch before strolling to the front door and unlocking it.

I slipped into my bedroom once the door creaked open and made a beeline for my twin bed that was positioned against the wall.

I lie down and for the next hour and a half, I meditated in silence.

Or at least, tried to.

It was something I learned from that one of the members in my pack.

He was into the whole spiritual balance thing.     

Most times, it helped but for the last few weeks, it hadn't at all.

Anytime I closed my eyes, I thought of my mate.

It was as if I was afraid of forgetting what he looked like.

The action calmed my wolf but frustrated me.

He groaned, opening my eyes until I was looking up at the ceiling of the small cabin room. 

"For fuck's sake," I said, wondering what had been wrong with me for the past few weeks.

The face of the coyote wolf I had met became vivid in my mind and I laughed.

Who would have thought that I would go from not caring about if I ever met my mate to a lovesick puppy wondering why I was being ignored?   

That was another thing that kept me up at night... wondering if I was the only person to feel the mate bond.

Was I intentionally being ignored or...?   

There was a rustling from my window that made me sit up.

I looked out of it, not noticing anything out of the ordinary, aside from the fact that the sky had gotten darker and the sun had retreated behind the clouds.   

"How long have I been lying here?" I asked myself, running my fingers through my coarse curly hair before licking my lips.     

My ears perked up when I heard the distilling sound again and this time it was from the other side of the room.

I squinted at the window before getting out of bed as quietly as I could.     

'Does someone need me?' I asked myself, wondering if one of the younger wolves wanted to ask me a question but was too afraid to knock.     

I walked over to the window, peering out of it and raising a brow when I didn't see anyone.

"Is anyone there?" I asked and there was some rustling in the bushes.     

My frown deepened because no one stepped out.

It was then I noticed that since I was on the bordering lines of the campsite, it could be someone who wasn't from the pack at all.

Part of me wanted to slip away from the window and attempt to stealth track whoever it was before apprehending them for questioning but another part of me was hoping that maybe... maybe it was the coyote wolf.

I had a feeling he's been following me about the place, at least, when I was out in the storage clearing.     

My stomach did a silly flip and my face grew hot when I considered the fact that it wasn't all in my head.

I wandered back to the studio, sniffing around to see if I could remember any of the smells.

It had been two weeks since I last saw him and I had been too stunned to acquire his scent but I tried my best and things came up positive.

There was a faint blood metallic smell that he had when we had met and I assumed that was from him working as a hunter.     

I slipped away from the window again before hurrying to the door and stepping out. I scanned the area around me.

A puff of air slipped past my lips in frustration. No one.

'Maybe he's hiding in the bushes?' I wondered, looking around and sniffing with my eyes closed.

His smell was close.

He had to be at least within walking distance.     

"I can smell you," I decided to announce as I walked down the porch stairs.

"Why would you come all the way here after telling me you'd shoot any of us you saw crossing into your territory?" I asked.     

My heart was beating rapidly in my chest and my wolf was skittish as I searched around my cabin.

I made sure to walk about in a bit of a slanted pose so that I could see what was happening behind me.

I wasn't too keen on getting ambushed from behind.     

"Why are you here?" I asked, stopping in my tracks after giving up on my search.

He was really good at hiding.   

"What do you want?" I asked, feeling a rush of excitement pulse through me.

Had he figured out we were mates?

Did he want to talk it through?   

As my mind was running astray with all the possibilities, I heard something drop with a loud thump.

The birds in the nearby shrubs even freaked out and flew away.

I looked to my side, finding the man from before getting up from the floor.     

"You..." I paused, watching him dust off his shirt and the knees of his jeans.

I looked up, noticing the part of the roof where his bag was still sitting on.

"You like dropping from the sky, don't you?" I said, remembering when I had first met him and he had done the same thing, although then it had been from the branches of the trees above.     

"It's easier to hunt that way," he muttered, and my chest squeezed up, registering the sound of his voice.

It was clearer since he wasn't shouting at me like before.

He looked at me, his brown eyes gauging me.     

"No weapons," he said, raising his hands so that I can see his sides.

"I came to talk to you."     

"About?" I asked, being as calm as I could be when multiple thoughts were running through my mind at the same time.     

"About our bond..." he said, trailing off and his voice got small.

There was a small frown on his face.

He looked irritated.

"About us being mates," he finished, looking up at me again.

I swallowed the spit in my mouth, licking my lips as I took in his look.

His posture was not on the defensive and he had dropped his hands back down and had thumbs in the loops where his belt should be.

His clothes were a little dusty but he still looked well kept.   

"You knew..." I trailed off, taking some steps forward until I was standing about an arm's length away from him.

I cocked my head to the side, noticing how full his brows were.

He had high cheekbones and his jaw was sharp but it didn't make him look intimidating, just older and I suspected he was. 

"I didn't know it then because I just wanted you to get out," he explained, taking a step forward, further closing the distance.

"I realized what I was feeling when I got home and had time to think."     

"So," he said, reaching out to hold my shoulders.

I felt my wolf jump in my chest as my resolve grew weak.

"Let's talk.

[maski1]

So I finally watched the 2 remaining live action of FMA ...

What the hell is that french translation???

See, in french we have 2 ways to say "you": the informal way "tu" used when addressing one person at the time that you are familiar with, and the formal way "vous" used to address someone with respect or multiple people.

Ex: I use "tu" to talk to a member of my familly or friend, but I use "vous" to talk to multiple members of my family at once, a teacher or my boss.

And here we have Hawkeye using "tu" when she talks to Mustang ... in public ... when they're working ...

And then she switches to "vous" for one sentence or 2 and goes back to "tu". Which makes absolutely no sense. Besides, it is VERY RUDE to address a high-rank with "tu" in the military.

See that famous scene where Scar got the Elric brothers and Mustang decides to 1vs1 Scar and Hawkeye make him fall to protect him and tells him he's useless in the rain? There's plenty of officers they don't know personally and yet she uses "tu".

In the first LA, Hawkeye did use "tu" ... but only when there was no one around.

Also, in the french dub of FMAB and the translation of the manga, Hawkeye NEVER uses "tu" to address Mustang, except when keeping an eye on Barry. Not before she enrolls as a soldier, not during the war, not after, not when they're alone.

I won't talk about how it could be bad for their goal too. You don't want people to question whether you're breaking the military rules or not when you want to climb all the way to the top.

Another detail: when Mustang joins his team at the beginning of the Promised Day, he asks if they were followed, which Hawkeye answers that Hayate would have reacted if it was the case.

She says: " Celui-là nous aurait prévenus " ("This one would have told us").

Now, the sentence is correct but in french, using " celui-là " to talk about a living being that has a name and you are close to, even if it's a dog, is a little rude. And unnatural to me. A better way would have been to use his name: " Hayate nous aurait prévenus " ("Hayate would have told us").

I think using "this one" in this case is pretty common in japanese so I'm wondering if the translators had the full context when they worked on the last 2 LA (the first one sounds good to me).

[smiletimeisrunningout]

"You don't deserve my wrath as a princess, as a woman I can't tell yet... but I am very curious what have you done to this poor lady friend of yours." she teased him, "What are her accusations? I'm sure she's right. You know, as a woman supporting another."

There was something so unsettling about King George's behavior, truly, and his claims. "This is why I said we are no better than anyone else, just luckier. Some people seem to forget that. Look, I'll be the first to demand respect when it's necessary, because if I'm to protect my people I need them to listen to me. But there is a big difference between that and claiming I'm of divine nature, he's-he's weird. I haven't had any prolonged close contact with him, but he's weird in his personal life too unless he's pretending when he knows he's being watched. And while I can't start a war myself, there is a reason if I am willing to help you be free."

Oh, the women of Setauket were going to change their minds for sure once they saw him again. She doubted that pinching had happened in any recent time, after all. "If they deem you unworthy, they are stupid," she retorted without pause, "At worst they could see you as not their type, which is fair, we all have different ones, but unworthy is not an acceptable judgment. But in any case I have faith. If you wish to find a way when you get back home, I don't doubt for a second you'll have a crowd to choose from."

'Women and children should be sheltered in any way possible.'

She hadn't been thinking of them, so it took Emma a moment this time to understand - and she winced she hadn't winced when he had spoken of being spared by scars. Ah, she didn't want to know his reaction to the horrors on her body, then. "N... No, I wasn't referring to... I was told there are rules of conduct when outside the battlefield..." Nobody had taken the time to explain, for several reasons, which had left her uncomfortably unsure, "You are a Major, and if you get captured you are not to be beaten nor immediately killed, correct? Death can happen in battle but not in cold blood, and the higher the rank, the more you have to be treated with caution. Did I not understand that right?"

She hadn't meant to offend him - because she had been laughing at herself, not at him like the Major seemed to have thought, and she fretted to correct the mistake, "No, I'm sorry, I wasn't criticizing your view, I promise, I was interested and wanted to understand! I'm a curious person, Major. Not when it comes to books, granted, but when it comes to people and places... My amusement came from the fact that I compared the description to myself. Because, well, you know. I'm ridiculous. Don't know about vapid but ridiculous enough to make up for it, so it felt like such a pointed reference. I wouldn't laugh at you! That..." she thought of it and shook her head, "That would be mean." She hadn't meant to sound quite so childish but really, who would mock something like that? It was mean.

She was going to say many things to that, starting from the fact that she'd be stealing one from him, not the opposite, but instead her mouth fell open at the end of his semi-rant. You just can't kiss a woman without- Of course people everywhere pretended to be as innocent as needed, but here, with the hidden legs and how scandalized he was... "Is that..." her voice dropped to a whisper and she didn't even know why, but it felt appropriate to the topic and her genuine bafflement, "Is that how it works here? For everyone? I mean the-the kissing bit, forget the rest for a moment. There are no... stolen kisses just because they felt right, little dalliances when you are... interested but not already on your way to a church, that sort of thing?"

"You don’t think I deserve a woman’s wrath?” Amused, Ben declared, “Perhaps you should speak to my friend, Anna Strong. She has certainly deemed me worthy of her wrath, and on multiple occasions – all starting around age eight, if I had to guess.”

Unscrewing his canteen, his expression turned sour. No, Emma most certainly did not have to remind him of the unfairness of a monarchy – of a ruler who wasn’t even chosen by the people. “King George claims he’s been chosen by God,” Ben muttered. “I would like to know how he can presume to speak for our Lord. After all, it would be rather easy to lie and say I’ve heard God’s word, when reality I have not – and therefore, I should be on a throne because no one can prove me wrong.”

Emma gave her advice (if it could truly be considered as such) and Ben made a face. “In Connecticut, perhaps,” he agreed, “but back home in Setauket, everyone knows everyone. If those women already deem me unworthy, then that’s that.”

“And a reverend? Does that make him safer than most, given all the rules you seem to have about who can be injured in this war?”

He scoffed. "What do you mean, rules? I would rather no one get injured in this war, thank you very much, but the fairer sex naturally should be spared of battle scars. Women and children should be sheltered in any way possible.”

Admittedly, Emma’s snicker startled him. Curling his shoulders, Ben scowled and looked away. “What’s so strange about what I want in a wife?” he asked defensively. “I do not care what 'most men’ desire. In my experience, the masses lack good taste, and although beauty is certainly a bonus, I can’t fall in love with a gorgeous woman who’s vapid and ridiculous.” He shrugged. “In my spare time, I love to read and learn and discover, so if my own wife can’t share in that excitement with me, what is the point of marrying her?”

Who wouldn’t think of that? Oh, now she was trying to bait him, surely!

Affronted, Ben drew up so that his spine was stiff and straight. “What do you mean, obviously?” he demanded. “Men do not seal agreements with a kiss, madam, and of that I can assure you! And if we were to do so with a woman? W-well…” Visibly reeling, he declared, “It would not be right. You can’t just kiss a woman without courtship or marriage!”

[theminecraftbee]

reading thuogh your king of monster's grian post i had a thought; spesficly about civilians in the final battle. becuse the thing is is that in any emergency there are gonna be people who go and watch; wether that be in person; by drone; by checking security feeds ect. if scar de-transformed; it's not that unlikely that it would have been seen and posted to the internet. and like; wouldnt it be a little bit easer to make the decian to just full go after the shadow orginazation if his civilian life had been serverly interupted; say by being found out? not sure how much sence i make i'm just rotating that idea in my head

see on the one hand my original thought was that scar wouldn’t have his identity revealed to the whole world here because he basically detransforms in the middle of a maelstrom. however, it hits me that scar is the kind of dramatic who WOULD give away his identity at that point to the world to make his point so you know mixed thoughts here.

because like… yeah you’re right. at that point grian’s identity is already basically plastered across the news and had been for days because the shadow organization finally figured him out (which is part of how they hunted him down). grian’s life has been pretty effectively wrecked by this. scar WOULD detransform to be like. alright I’m doing this on my terms. I’m doing this to finally tell this person I’ve been worried about who I actually am as opposed to letting anyone else do it for me. I’m doing this to try to help grian realize his life isn’t over here, and I’m doing this because I can.

…except then neither of them can go back.

scar, at least, is not currently wanted for arrest, although he suspects the shadow organization will make up some reason he has to walk into a trap soon. he doesn’t show up at work and doesn’t get more than a “good luck” text from his manager and he’s just like. there is no going back from here. there are a lot of REALLY GOOD REASONS he’d never done it he just also had good reasons to give himself away right then.

and at that point yeah they’ve put themselves on a clock with their identities revealed they can’t hide forever and soon won’t be safe at all so why not take this moment to finally go full-frontal assault on the shadow organization they have very little left to lose.

thankfully cub and bdubs are more sensible and DON’T dramatically detransform to prove a point and can still go in public at least, although cub is more wary than bdubs because like, it won’t take much for the internet to realize that cub is scar’s roommate and looks suspiciously like the guy who’s been helping scar for ages now. bdubs gets off largely scott free which thank god because you know, friendship with etho.

anyway yeah you’re making a LOT of sense and I think a dramatic and dangerous identity reveal is EXACTLY what that moment needs

[artsy-hobbitses]

So what's the deal with our grumpy Olympic throwing medic and drift? Like how does their relationship start. Is like hate then mutual dislike then tolerate to omg I think I like him thing?

The relationship starts almost the same way as it does in IDW 2005!

A younger!Drift high on drugs (to deal with his chronic pain in his legs which were damaged in a hit-and-run which ended a potential Olympic career) was assaulted by thugs and then saved by OP who brought him to Ratchet’s free clinic for emergency treatment, and Ratchet ended up saving his life. Over the course of Ratchet nursing him back to health (Ratchet keeps him here for a longer period to keep an eye on his healing injuries/potential withdrawal symptoms), they talk more frequently and become friends as Drift attempts to help Ratchet around the clinic best as he can in his condition. He very much admires Ratchet for the work the man does pro bono in an area no doctor worth their name would want to work and Ratchet sees the spark of who this young man could have been if that accident had not robbed him of a career he’d been training for his whole life.

Ratchet helps ease some of the pain Drift is in with surgery on his legs he could otherwise not afford (It’s not a 100% fix, Drift still feels that his legs are a little stiff and can never run the way he used to, but he doesn’t limp any more and doesn’t need painkillers to cope with it every day), and tells Drift after it’s all over that Drift has a new chance at a new life now, and Drift assured him that he sees his new life here, with Ratch, in that he wants to help Ratch do what he’s doing for people who need it most.

Ratchet takes him up on this as a promise, bc Ratchet is now genuinely fond (not love just yet!) of him, and he heads home to talk to Gasket that he’s found new work with Ratchet, however on his way home is when he witnesses Gasket shot to death on accident by cops when the man was trying to stop them from brutalizing a petty thief, and when they try and immediately cover up what they did, Drift fucking loses it and ends up killing one of them while the other runs off.

Now here’s where it gets Complicated:

- Op at this time is a cop (the cops who shot Gasket are from Sentinel’s station and at this time, Sentinel is trying to take the Dead End back from OP after witnessing how OP’s holistic policing techniques had turned the place around slightly, and there are now gentrification plans for the place that cannot be done if OP insists on letting ‘undesirables run rampant here’) and is Ratchet’s close friend. OP is as kind as a cop as Drift ever encountered but he’s aware that they tend to close ranks around each other, what more when one of them is killed.

- Drift has seen Sentinel’s men come into Ratchet’s free clinic and accuse him of hiding/treating fugitives from the law, with OP arguing in Ratchet’s favour.

Drift is now a cop-killer with little to no protection given his class, and doesn’t want to jeopardize Ratchet’s work or Ratchet himself by going back and proving Sentinel’s men right.

So he goes underground, leaving Ratchet waiting and wondering why he never came back.

They don’t see each other for a long time, but Drift always keeps an eye on Ratchet’s clinic—-those who threaten or try to extort Ratchet in any way tend to disappear or suddenly have a change of heart—-and Ratchet keeps hearing of someone who looks like Drift working in the shadows.

The next time they see each other is in the early days of the war, when Ratchet is busting out Autobots held in a Decepticon prison who refuse to join Megatron after the supposed death of Optimus Prime (who miraculously returns with a new trinket in his chest and was battling Megs as a diversion) and Drift has orders to stop the jailbreak.

Neither of them recognize each initially, but they do once Drift gets past Ratchet’s scars/skin graft and Ratchet, Drift’s armor and guns. In an early shhh-shhh disobedience against Megs’ orders, he leads Ratchet through a back-door escape route and Ratchet begs him to come with them, but at this point Drift is torn between loyalty to Megs’s vision for a better world for everyone, and fondness for Ratchet, and is well onto his life as a mercenary with a sizable body count and fears Ratchet would never forgive him if Ratchet found out, and so declines the offer, telling Ratchet he has a new name now (Deadlock) and apologizing bc the him that Ratchet met years ago is now dead.

They’re forced to part ways, and don’t see each other again for a long time, though Ratchet would hear of Deadlock as a feared Decepticon (which makes him more and more jaded) and it was well-known among ‘Cons that anyone attempting to disregard Geneva Conventions by taking aim at medics would be hurled by Deadlock through the nearest window.

Th next time Ratchet sees him, it’s when the Wreckers bring Perceptor back for emergency care, and introduce the doc to this ‘new guy’ who saved Percy’s life and surprise bitch guess who?

Absolutely doesn’t go well initially and by that I mean all the Autobots, once revealed by Ratchet (not intentionally, it was blurted out in a moment of shock) of who the Wreckers’ tagalong is are like

But Kup speaks in defense of him and he’s given the early Kovu Joins The Pridelanders treatment, just everyone eyeing him like a hawk, waiting for him to ‘fall on his old ways’, and while Ratchet isn’t one of them, he genuinely does not know what to think of Drift right now. He’s torn, Drift has given up two chances to come with him; while there’s a part of him that still remembers and is fond of the young man who was so eager to help him makes the Dead End a better place, he’s also afraid that Drift is just going to leave again.

Perceptor is kind of out of it for a while—we’re talking two to three months warded and surgeries—-and Drift stays by Percy’s bedside for a while, mirroring how he used to help Ratchet in the old clinic, because it’s at least a place where no one is waiting for him to fail. This is where he and Ratchet start having more conversations, stilted initially then passionately heated as Ratchet struggles to understand why Drift made the choices he did. At the end of the day, Ratchet understands that Drift had reasons (not necessarily rational, but understandable) to have kept away from him and Drift understands that Ratchet, who’s been ‘left behind’ twice has even more reason that anyone else not to trust him, even if he still cares.

There’s mutual understanding that there’s a bridge to rebuild, and Ratchet holds Drift to his word again that time time, he’s not leaving.

That’s where the healing begins and they begin to form a working relationship with each other, followed by a proper friendship, and it’s about the time where Ratchet gets kidnapped by Pharma that Drift realizes he likes the Good Doctor more than a friend (less of an OMG I LIKE HIM??!!! and more of a very cold-calm I promised I would be good, but I am about to start dropping so many goddamn bodies for this cranky asshole 🎵 that’s amore 🎵)

There’s never been a point where they hate each other! I imagine there were times Ratchet WISHED he could, but the heart gonna do what the heart gonna do, no matter how jaded and crusty it gets.

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79 @boxdyeblonde @fangirl-316 @niiight-dreamerrrr @tanzthompson @theamuz @gallowsjoker @helmet-comes-off @jesfreedark @amyk-37 @altarsw @feminist-violinist @spideysimpossiblegirl @lazybeeches @shameless-h  @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @mamacitapascal @the-ginger-hedge-witch @disgruntledspacedad @asta-lily @aesnawan @frannyzooey @gaiuswrites @beskarboobs @honestly-shite @sherala007 @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @missminkylove @pedros-mustache @headinthestarz @leannawithacapitala @sharkbait77 @radiowallet  @danidrabbles @magpie-to-the-morning @mandocrasis @juletheghoul @javierpinme @voteforpedro09 @theorganasolo @aprilqueen84 @Prostitute-robot-from-the-future @wanderlustmags @darnitdraco @castleamc @outlawedmando @lawfulgranola @jaime1110 @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @taticalsparkles @chasingdreamer @beautyagegoodnesssize @pintsizemama @recklessworry @tarolovesyoo @xgoldenjenny @prideandpascal @amneris21 @mylovelycomandante @ohhersheybars @heartsofbeskar

A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots​ 

[plush-rabbit]

Poly!Yandere! Big Three in a Relationship

Request: Maybe poly!yandere! Big Three x reader? Maybe sfw and nsfw hcs? 👉👈

A/N: I really like the big three. I think they’re really interesting characters and i hope we get more of them

-

SFW:

Being in a relationship with the Big Three would be anyone’s dream. They’re all attractive, high-ranking heroes, and seem to get along great with each other. It’s the dream to be in their relationship. They’re fawned over and most people would gladly trade places with you. To date the Big Three is truly something to be proud of. They might be obsessive, but that only adds to their charm. Who can blame them? When you’re heroes, you make enough enemies eventually. They only want to protect you and if that means using their connections and resources to figure where you are and with you, then it might be a bit extensive, but it’s only because they care for you so much.

While polyamorous relationships aren't unusual in hero society, it is still a bit of a rarity- especially when they seem perfect like the Big Three. You have the childhood best friends, the beauty queen, and then you, the sweet, little naïve partner who is coddled and cared for. You’re the talk of the news- magazines, headlines, interviews and whatever else there could be, it’s about you and your relationship. While you would have preferred to be kept on the sidelines- the less that know, the better- they can’t help but be thrilled. Now people will know who you belong to without having to say a word. It’s a nice relationship, where they each hold a different part of power over you, keeping you nice and submissive, letting you fall onto their lap as they tell you that you can’t go anywhere now. You can’t start a new life when everyone knows who you are and who you are dating.

Tamaki still holds a bit of his more introverted nature, and when he isn’t out protecting society, he’s at home with you. He has you in his strong grip, sitting beside him as he bulks up for his next day on the job. He loves to touch you, to have you on his lap as his face is buried in your chest, his nails pressing into your skin, dragging down when you try to move away from him. When Tamai is in charge of you, he hardly ever lets you go out. He much rather have you to himself, where no one can witness you nor him. There really is no escape in the home that you share. He knows all the hiding places, and has made sure- along with Mirio- to place cameras where he thinks that you would hide. If you ever seem to entertain the idea of leaving, he’d fall into such a depressive state that the rest of the household would be angry towards you and you can’t have that.

Nejire is sweet. She holds a bit of motherly tendencies, cooking for you, bathing you, and even dressing you up as if you were her little doll. She loves to keep you in such a cute state, to make sure that you look the best that you can be- after all, you are dating the Big Three. Her curious nature makes it perfect- she’s so calming to talk to that you often forget just how powerful she is, just how much control she has over you. All your worries and insecurities are questioned, counter-attacked, and in turn, when he brushes just a bit too harshly on your hair, she reminds you that you can’t really break-up with them if you wanted to. It wouldn’t work out. You don’t have friends. You’ve cut off your family. Who would ever take you in? Especially if they learned just how heartbroken they were if it were your fault.

Mirio is the one who treats you with the most care, he hardly ever gets angry at you. He really is like the sun- bright and all consuming. If you’ve ever gotten into a spat with another, he’s always the first to help you mend things. He’ll do anything to make you smile and will gift you whatever you need in order for that. In turn, all that he asks for is that you stay around him for the longest. Just latch onto him and let him worry about everything that has to do with the household. If you need to go out, he’s sure that Nejire can make time and in turn, he’ll let you take his card- seeing as you don’t have one. He’s so happy, so cheerful, that when he does get angry, it’s terrifying. Tamaki was right. There really is nowhere to hide in the home, because he always seems to find you. His grip is firm, digging and bruising your skin as he tells you to never disobey and run off again. Once done, he flips the switch and he’s wiping your tears and telling you another joke as he pulls you to his arms.

NSFW:

While having a train or a foursome isn’t all that uncommon, they also like to take turns. Tamaki will fill you with his quirk, tentacles inside of you as his cock is buried deep inside of your aching hole. In the sidelines, Nejire will have her hand wrapped around Mirio, and you’re sure if there weren’t tears in your eyes, you’d see her spirals flickering in and out. Mirio’s fingers will be buried knuckle deep as they watch Tamaki rail you. Nejire will have her tongue lap at your sex, her quirk in effect, your body tense and on pins and needles as she keep you close to her, suckling on your sweet arousal. Mirio and Tamaki will have their hands on each other’s cocks, Tamaki’s face red as he watches you orgasm while Mirio pumps his cock, even if semen has spilled. Mirio will be relentless, pushing your face into the mattress, his hands gripping and teasing at your pebbled nipples. Nejire will be perched above on Tamaki's cock, both trying to watch as Mirio fucks you senseless.

If you did fail to listen to either of them, then they’re less than kind to you. They’ll spread your legs, tease at your waiting hole and press soft kisses against your slit, as they tie your ankles and wrists. A vibrator is pushed inside of you, your body shaking and teased at by either their mouths or hands. They edge you until you’re crying. Tears streaming down your face and wetting the bed sheet under you, your hands in tight fists as you beg and cry to not misbehave again. You have to promise to do better. To smile more and hold their hand, to listen when they say that they’re tired from work. You have to be a good little house pet, and know them. They care for you of course, but it’s hard to believe that when they keep rejecting your orgasm just to see you cry.

They all really just like to see your face contort into something less than innocent. They want to see you cry, to see you shake and beg for them to slow down or to give you a break, but they won’t. You have to please three different people who all have amazing stamina and at the end of it, you’re left overstimulated. Your body shakes throughout the night and any type of touch is jolts of electricity shot through you. And even then, when you’re crying and gripping onto scarred skin, your pleas of rest are shushed with a kiss as you’re lowered onto a cock to sit on. If it isn’t cockwarming, then you're meant to kiss at Nejire’s cunt until she lets you up, but there’s also a part of her that just wants to please you. She’ll kiss at your sex and suckle on your arousal until you’re patting at the top of her head to let you rest, that’s it all too much.

This is more of Nejire’s thing, but she loves to have you suck on her breasts. It’s one of the few times she isn’t trying to fight for your attention or get jealous at how the others make you cream all over their cocks. She gets to have you for herself. To feel your mouth latch onto her nipple and tease the hard bud with the tip of your tongue. It’s the few times you ever get to have her so nurturing. To pet your hair and have her other hand teasing with your sex. All you have to do is suckle on her breast, to hollow your cheeks and beg for her to make you orgasm while her fingers are deep inside of you massaging at your gummy walls that clench around her. It’s one of the few times that she’ll ever be sweet during sex- petting your hair, allowing you to cream, and rest. All you have to do is nurse on her and thank her.

In the earlier parts of the relationship, you still wanted your freedom, you wanted to go out and live a life separate from them, but they were able to snuff that flame out. Even now, you hold onto your stubbornness and they can’t help but coo at how silly you’ve gotten. They'll wrap a collar around your neck and force you to walk around on your hands as you don puppy ears with a tail placed inside of you. You aren’t allowed to walk on all fours, or speak and if you want something, you’ll have to nudge at a leg and point at what you want. It’s humiliating but you can see just how much it arouses them- the tent in their pants, the hands that pull on your nipples, the way the toy is moved around inside of you. You’ll learn our place soon enough and when you have, they’ll treat you to something nice as a reward.

[justaself-shipper]

Golden Guard x Reader- True Colours

A/N: I wanted to get back into the swing of things before redoing the requests. There may or may not be a few Amphibia references in here…since i watched it quite recently... Spoilers for Hunting Palisman. Also anyone get the reference of the title?

Being in the Emperor’s Coven wasn’t easy. From battling monsters and demons to rogue witches and a certain human, I was surprised I was still alive. A regular guard was just a pawn for the Emperor. Yet, I had no choice, since my parents had already planned my future while I was still young. I wanted to make them proud, and I really did try. But it seems like being a normal guard in the Emperor’s Coven wasn’t enough. I needed to go bigger, eliminate anyone in my way if I had to. I was going to do it for them, and for my lost Palisman, Froggit. (IT WAS THE ONLY THING THAT CAME TO MIND-) Standing at attention, I watched all the servants and guards walk by. I was assigned outside the Throne room today. Kikimori happened to be walking by as the door opened. She gasped. “Golden Guard?! You’re alive! I heard about the crash-“ The “Golden Guard” came into view. He greeted Kiki, and I had the time to observe him. He was about my age, with blonde hair, red eyes, and a scar on his right cheek. As he walked away from Kikimori, he looked my way. I hadn’t realised I had turned to face them. Quickly standing to attention, I stiffened as he stopped in front of me. “Sir.” I saluted. He raised an eye-brow, looking at my badge. (Ima just pretend the badges have names engraved into them in small lettering or something). “Haven’t seen you around here much. When did you join the Emperor’s Coven?” He asked casually. I glared through my mask. “Two weeks ago, sir.” I replied, trying my best to keep my voice calm. He smiled. “Well, miss ‘Y/N’, it’s nice to meet you. The names Hunter.” I didn’t reply back. After a few minutes of silence, he sighs. “Welp, I better be going. See you around.” As he walked away, I let my shoulders relax a bit. Glaring after him, I watched him disappear. So, a higher rank, right? Well, we’ll see about that. Don’t try to chit-chat me, Hunter. You’re nothing but a rival. Later that evening… I let out a yawn. It was late, and I was the only guard patrolling this side of the castle. Lifting my mask to rub my tired eyes, I heard a loud bang, followed by yelp of pain. “Palisman!” Someone hissed. Pulling my mask back down, I held my staff out. “COME OUT! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE!” I yelled out. There was nothing but silence. Turning a corner, I caught someone running away, carrying something. “Hey!” I gave chase, following the intruder down the corridors. As I ran, I realised they seemed to know exactly where they were going. Running by halls that lead to dead ends, and avoiding doors that entered into closed off rooms. Using my staff, I sped up, running in front of the witch. He came to a stop, almost tripping. Holding out my staff, I was about to zap him, when I realised it was Hunter. A small, red bird Palisman sat on his shoulder. I smirked under my mask. Hiding a Palisman? One that has wild magic? This was treason. Oh, Emperor Belos is going to love this. “You stay here.” I stated, using a spell to keep him in place. As he struggled, I began to walk off. If he’d been keeping a wild Palisman, who knew what he could do with it. Best to retrieve back-up, and quickly. As I turned my back, he yelled out to me. “Wait! Don’t tell Belos!” Ignoring him, I continued. “I know what he does to them! He kills them!” Stopping, I turned back to the Golden Guard. “What do you mean by that?” I questioned cautiously. Hunter closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Emperor Belos isn’t a witch. I don’t know what he is, or what happened to him. All I know is that he uses the magic in the Palismans to keep himself powerful and in a stable condition.” My mind went to Froggit, my Palisman before I joined the Coven. He went missing as soon as I joined…he couldn’t have… “Y-you’re lying, aren’t you?” I growled. The Palisman sitting on his shoulder chirped. After a moment of silence, I released the Golden guard. Turnng my back to him once again, I growled under my breath. “Get out of here before I change my mind.” Hunter didn’t need to be asked twice. Making sure the Palisman wasn’t hurt, he left, returning to his dorm. About an hour later, another guard took over my shift. Rushing back to my dorm, I leaned against the door. It couldn’t be true. Emperor Belos would never hurt my Palisman, would he? I let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t have…right? Finishing up my carving, I stared lovingly at the Frog as I held it up to the sunlight. “And done! Welcome to the world little buddy!” I whispered, blowing the flakes away. Smiling widely, I placed the wooden frog on my bedside table. All I had to do now was wait. He should wake up in a few minutes. Leaning back on my bed, I picked up my book, looking at all the human creatures inside. I loved looking at all the pictures, and even chose one as my Palisman. There were so many amazing creatures, for awhile I couldn’t pick. I had finally settled for a “frog”, since they sounded so amazing. Hearing a croak, I looked up from my book. My new Palisman had woken up, and was crawling around and curiously peering at the objects on my bed stand. “Hey there little guy.” I cooed, picking him up. He let out another croak. “Welcome to the Boiling Isles! You’re so cute!” He tilted his head curiously in my direction, letting out another excited croak. Giggling, I gently pet him. “I’ll keep you safe Froggit. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” I jolted awake, rubbing my teary eyes as I sat up. Silent sobs threatened to erupt from my throat. Taking a few minutes to calm myself, I inhaled slowly. This wasn’t a coincidence, wasn’t it? Froggit was gone, and I had failed to protect him. He had probably died a horrible death, scared and all alone. Checking the window, I noticed the sun was rising. I had to get ready for today. As I stood up, I felt my stomach squirm in guilt. Looking around my room, i grabbed a satchel, collecting things and preparing. I had to get out of here. I was NOT going to work with a Coven that murdered my Palisman, no matter what my parents say. I would have failed them, but nothing was worse than knowing I had failed my Palisman, my only friend. A loud knock came from the door. Looking up, I stared hard at the door. Who could that be? I’m not late for something, am I? The knocking came again. Walking over, I opened the door to find Kikimori there. She seemed to be glaring daggers into my soul, even though she was way shorter than me. “The Emperor wants to speak with you immediately.” She stated, walking away. Why does the Emperor want to see me? I took off my mask as I stood in front of the throne room. My knees shook thinking over the things the Golden Guard had said the night previously. The Emperor wasn’t who I thought he was, and that thought alone terrified me. Clutching my mask, I opened the doors. Mutterings were coming from the other side of the room as I entered. Walking along the corridor, I took note that a few guards, as well as the Golden Guard and Emperor Belos were in the room. Belos was talking to the Golden Guard, but stopped when I entered. I bowed down to the Emperor, as I felt his eyes bare into my soul. “You must be Y/N L/N, right? Hunter has told me so much about you.” He stated. I bowed my head, keeping an eye on Hunter. He seemed to be distracted, since he didn’t seem to be paying attention to us. “He’s told me of all your hard work so far, and that you’re trust worthy. So, I have made up my mind.” He stood up, grabbing onto his staff. What was he doing? “You’ve been moved up to Captain of the guards, since ours has…retired. How does that sound?” Shocked, I glanced up to Hunter. His eyes were averted, refusing to look at me. “I-it’s an honour, my lord…” I stuttered. “B-but, I-i’m just a humble guard, there’s no need to put me as Captain so soon-“ I was cut off as something headed my way, barely missing me by a hair. I stiffened, following the pointed object toward the Emperor. It was….his…arm…. He took the object away. “I'm afraid you don’t have a choice in this matter. Your first mission starts tonight. You’ll be accompanied by Hunter. You’ll be given your badge in the morning.” He waves his hand, signifying I could leave. I nodded. “Y-yes, my Lord.” With that, I placed my helmet back on, walking briskly out of the room. Opening the door, I jumped a little when Kikimori was waiting on the other side. She said nothing, just simply glared at me then left. After watching her disappear around the corner, I let out an angry sigh. What was I gonna do? Later that night…. The Golden Guard was standing beside me, steering the ship we flew in. There was an awkward silence for the first 10 minutes of the flight, with both of us avoiding eye contact. Apparently, we were meant to be looking for Palismans. “So…everything you said the other night was true.” I mumbled. The Golden guard hummed in response. “Unfortunately, yes.” Another silence ensured. “I wasn’t expecting him to make you Captain. I just wanted to help you out a bit, since you helped me. I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you wanted…” I let out a sigh. “It’s fine." That’s when he turned to me. His eyes were filled with sympathy. “I’m also sorry about your Palisman…” I whipped around to face him. “How-“ “It’s not hard. Everyone has a Palisman when they first arrive. They disappear after the first week, and given a “new and improved” staff. It’s becoming more common. Only a few are allowed to keep their Palismans.” He stated, his brows furrowing as his gaze returned to the horizon. “You seem to know a fair bit.” I said. He shrugged. “One of the few perks of being the Emperor’s right-hand man.” I nodded understandingly. Being right-hand man couldn’t have been easy. There would’ve been many people trying to back-stab him. I WAS one of them.

“…what was it like? Your Palisman?” He asked curiously. I smiled under my mask. “He was my best friend. A lot of people questioned why I chose a monster from the human realm, but it didn’t matter. I loved him almost like my own child…” I felt the tears threatening to overflow once again. Hunter smiled. “He sounded nice.” I looked over to him curiously. “You say that as if you’ve never had a Palisman.” His eyes widened, before he turned his face away from me. “…this Palisman is actually my first. I didn’t do well in school, so I never achieved my staff.” Was all he replied. Great. Now I felt bad. “I’m sorry…" He chuckled. “It’s alright. There wasn’t a chance you could’ve known.” Letting out a sigh, I took my mask off. What was the point of hiding my face while meeting a new friend? Letting my hair fall down, I hear Hunter let out a small gasp. I raise an eyebrow, turning my gaze to him. His eyes were wide open, staring at me. “What are you looking at?” “You…you’re beautiful…” My own eyes widened, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Hunter realised that he said it out loud, and his own face lit up. “I-i’m so sorry! I-“ “Just be quiet.” I growled, turning away so then Hunter wouldn’t see me. The ship shook, and I felt it begin to fall rapidly toward the ground. I watched in terror as the ground came closer, and I blacked out as we hit the ground. “Hey! Y/n, wake up!” Someone hissed quietly.

I let out a groan as I opened my tired eyes. Hunter was gently shaking me, looking around frantically at his surroundings. “W-what happened?” I grumbled, sitting up. Hunter clasped a hand over my mouth. I was about to object, when he pointed to a certain short monster on the other side of the rocks. It was Kikimori, and she did not look happy. She seemed to be carrying a stone. I recognised it from history books. They made the possessor stronger. “I KNOW YOU’RE HERE GOLDEN GUARD! AND I KNOW WHAT YOU DID THE OTHER NIGHT!” She shrieked. My brows furrowed, looking toward Hunter. “What is she talking about?” I hissed. He reached for his broken staff. I hadn’t noticed that before. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to get out of here.” He whispered back. Without warning, he grabbed my hand, leading me away from the angry monster. Once we were far enough away, I pulled my hand free from his. “What the hex was that about?!” I yelled. Hunter let out a sigh. “Look, the other night I was assigned to collect Palismans. I told my Uncle that I had failed, but the real reason was that I let them go. Kiki and the human Luz was involved and…things just got out of hand.” He was looking down at his feet. “If I told him what had really happened, then he would kill both of us…” I listened carefully. When he was finished, I smiled softly. ‘Hey…you did the right thing.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Surprised for a moment, Hunter smiled. “So, what are we gonna do? We can’t tell your Uncle we failed to retrieve them again. He’d find out for sure.” I said. Hunter thought for a moment, before a smirk crossed his features. “Not unless we disappeared.” I stared blankly at him for a moment. What did he mean by that? “What do you mean?” “Alright, this is the plan.” Waiting outside the castle, I tapped my foot impatiently. Hunter had gone into the castle to retrieve his Palisman, leaving me outside to wait. It had been 10 minutes already. Shouldn’t he be back by now? Something must’ve happened. Letting out a growl, I clutched my staff, heading inside. Once inside, I passed a few of the guards. None tried stopping me, just giving a nod as I passed by. They took note of my badge it seemed. As I walked pass the throne room, I halted when I heard a cry of pain come from within. “NO, PLEASE! DON’T HURT HIM!” That was Hunter. Rushing over, I swung the doors open. There was Hunter, being held by two guards. Kikimori held his Palisman, about to hand it over to Emperor Belos. Everyone stopped what they were doing when I entered, turning to face me. Emperor Belos was the only one to recognise me. “Ah, Y/n! A nice surprise! No need for any assistance. You see, Hunter here has been keeping secrets from us.” He stated gesturing to Hunter. “But Kikimori has saved us by warning us of his treason. He’ll be thrown into the dungeon shortly, and this…Palisman will be dealt with.” At that, Kikimori was about to hand the Palisman to the Emperor. Rage filled me, and before I realised what I was doing, I had sent a spell their way. The Palisman was thrown from Kikimori’s hands, falling to the ground out of reach. Everyone let out a gasp. Tears overflowed from my eyes as rage coursed through me. “No one else’s Palisman’s are getting hurt under my watch.” I growled. Belos straightened his posture. “I see. You’re a traitor to our kind. Guards, get her!” He yelled. The guards holding Hunter let him go, charging toward me. Using my staff, I quickly defeated them, swinging my staff against their skulls. Both fell unconscious. Without thinking, I charged Belos. He killed my Palisman. Before my staff made contact with him, he used his own magic to throw me against the wall. Yelping in pain, I stumbled to my feet. My vision was still blurry from the impact, hence why I didn’t see Belos walking towards me. I was pushed back against the wall. Something was piercing into my neck, and I realised it was the Emperor’s staff. “You’ll have the same fate as your Palisman.” He hissed. Choking for air, my vision was getting darker and darker as I stared murderously into Belos’ eyes. I finally felt myself drop to the ground, the Emperor letting out a groan of pain as he was attacked from the side. Strong hands lifted me up, helping me limp away from the scene. Hunter got his Palisman ready, ordering me to get on. Doing so, I left my staff lying on the ground, clutching his waist tightly as we escaped the castle. I buried my face in Hunters shoulder as we flew over the Boiling Isles. Neither of us had spoken for a while, and honestly I was too shocked. Finally, Hunter spoke up. “Thank you for that. That was very courageous of you to stand up to him. Are you ok?” “Y-yeah, I’m ok…where are we going? Do you have a place in mind?” I asked, looking down at our surroundings. We were near Bones Marrow (was that what it was called?), and I curious if he had a destination. Hunter smiles at my question. “I have a friend nearby. We’ll seek shelter there if she’ll allow it.” With that, he neared the forest floor, landing quietly in the bushes. I looked up at the building in front of us. I knew this place, although I’d never been to it myself. This was the Owl House, home of one of the most powerful witches on the Isle, Eda the Owl lady. Well, WAS the most powerful. Hunter walked up the doorstep, and was about to knock when a large owl tube on the door spoke up, startling both of us. “OOH VISITORS! FROM THE EMPEROR COVEN TOO! HAVE YOU COME HERE TO BE MY FRIEND?!” The door opened, revealing Luz the human. Her smile lit up when she realised it was Hunter. “Hunter! Hi! What are you doing here? And who’s your friend? You aren’t…here to arrest me, are you?” She asked suspiciously, closing the door ajar as she squinted her eyes. I almost laughed at how childish she was. “No, sorry to disappoint. Me and my friend were going to ask if we could stay for awhile? We…kinda left the coven.” Hunter said, gesturing to himself and I. I gave a little wave. Luz’s eyes widened in surprise, her smile returning. “Of course! Come in! We have…room for two more!” Opening the door, she let us inside. Hunter stepped in first, but was stopped by an ice wall. He let out a yelp of surprise, and Luz was yelling at someone. “Lillith! Be nice!” Lillith? Where have I heard that name? It clicked when I caught sight of her. There, in what I assumed to be human clothes, stood Lillith, my role model ever since I was a small witchling. I almost jumped up and down in excitement, if it wasn’t for the shock of the ice bars between us. “Human! This is the Golden Guard! We can’t let him in here! What if it’s a trick?!” Lillith shrieked. Luz tried to calm her down, explaining that he’d changed. Another woman stepped into the room, followed by a small demon with a skull on his head. “Alright, what’s going on here?” She muttered. Luz sighed in relief. “Oh thank god you’re here, Eda. My friends need a place to stay, and-“ Eda? Lillith cut her off. “HE’S THE GOLDEN GUARD! It could be a trap!” She screamed, gesturing to the two of us. Hunter didn’t say anything, just let out a nervous chuckle. Eda only stared at us tiredly. “…..if it’s a trap we won’t hesitate to knock em’ out cold. Just let em in.” She grumbled, sitting on the couch as she drank something from out of a cup. Lillith stuttered indignantly, while Luz used what I assumed a random piece of paper to create fire. Melting the bars, she let the two of us inside.

A few minutes later, Hunter and I were sitting beside each other on two chairs, while Lillith, Luz, and Eda were sitting on the couch. He had just finished explaining what had happened with Emperor Belos mere hours before. Lillith had her arms crossed, staring at us suspiciously, while Eda was peacefully sipping at her apple-blood. Luz was holding the little demon, who I found out was named King. Luz spoke up first. “So…now you’re wanted criminals?” She asked, concerned. Hunter pat his Palisman. “It would appear so.” He muttered. Lillith didn’t say anything, but it was obvious from her body language she didn’t trust us. Eda the owl lady smiled comfortingly. “Well, I guess an enemy to Belos is a friend of mine. Welcome to the Owl House kids.” She chuckled. “Thank you.” I replied. Luz pointed accusingly at me. “AHA! YOU DO SPEAK!” She yelled. I chuckled. “So what’s your name, kid?” Eda asked. “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you all. Especially you Lillith!” She turned to me, raising a brow. “Why’s that, witchling?” “You’ve always been a role-model for me! I feel so honoured meeting you in person!” I said, my smile brightening to finally have an opportunity to speak to my hero. Lillith smiled. “Thank you, witchling.” A few weeks later… Hunter and I had officially moved into the Owl House. It was a bit crowded but it became our home. Eda was teaching Hunter how to take care of his Palisman, plus how to use and treat it. I on the other hand, began to classes with Lillith and Luz, learning how to master glyphs. Sure, I still had my powers, but in case of emergencies I wanted to learn about these strange little symbols. We had become wanted criminals that day, and our wanted posters were stuck up all over the Boiling Isles. I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I realised it was Hunter. “Hey Y/n, I have a surprise for you.” He said, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the Owl house. Dragging me through town, we snuck by many wanted posters of us. He finally stopped outside of Hexside, a school I had once attended before joining the Emperor’s Coven. Knocking on the door, Principal Bump opened. “Ah, good you’re here! Just in time too!” He whispered, taking down another poster that was stuck to his door. He smiled down at the two of us. “Good to see you again Y/n. Come this way!” Leading us onto the Grudgby field, I noticed Eda was standing beside a large, wooden stump. She walked over to us excitedly. “Y/n! Hunter had told us what had happened to your Palisman, so Bumpy, Hunter and I decided to give you a little surprise. I introduce to you…” The Bat Queen flew down, landing on the stump and opening the door. Many Palismans with cracks ran out, looking around curiously. “To the Palismans! These little guys need a good home again, and one lucky one may pick you.” My eyes widened in awe, as I clasped my hands over my mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I hugged Hunter, who was standing beside me. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” I cried. Realising what I was doing, my face heated up, and I immediately let go, looking away in embarrassment. He did the same, scratching his neck as a pink flush covered his cheeks. Eda chuckled at our interaction. “Alright. All you gotta do is kneel down, say a goal you want to achieve and one should choose you.” She stated. I grinned as I knelt down, looking at all the cute Palismans scuttling about. “I want a powerful Palisman to help protect those I care about.” I said. One Palisman began to glow. It looked like a lizard from the human realm, but with a scorpion tail and sharp claws. I held out my hands as it turned into a staff, landing gently in my hands as the Palisman happily growled. My grin widened as I looked excitedly back at Hunter, hugging the Palisman close. Everything was going to be ok now.

A/N: HOLY CRAP FINISHING THIS I REALISED IT PRETTY MUCH TURNED INTO A FULL BLOWN NOVEL-

[biggest-stupidhead]

Can I ask for an request where Levi is a soldier who is pointed to protect a royal person. Then he fell in love with her active attitude, smart brain and support to the scout

AN: This took me so long. I deleted it like three times on accident so this is as good as its going to get 😂. do let me know though if I misspelled anything I didn't skim over it sooooo YOLO.

Summary: Levi is asked to attend the summer gala with !princess reader.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Warnings: mentions of Levi's scarring, some cussing? I think? that's about it

__________

Levi's hand trembled as he ran the fine toothed comb through his damp hair. He scowled back at his own reflection, eyes avoiding the pink scars that marred his skin. It had been nearly a year since he had been discharged from the military due to his injuries. At first he had struggled to find a routine, having been in the military for more than half of his life, it was a huge loss.

His hand jerked unexpectedly and the comb pulled through a knot in his hair painfully. He clicked his tongue and dropped the comb, gripping the edges of the sink to steady himself.

How pathetic.

There was a time when he could complete these tasks with no problem. But now his body seemed to be failing him, if he stood for too long his joints protested, he struggled to hold a pen due to his lack of fingers. He also wore an eyepatch to cover his milky right eye and some of the scars that covered the right side of his face.

Normally Hange would help him get ready, they were the only person he could stomach seeing him this way. But Hange was busy, they had meetings all morning. So Levi was left on his own, and he managed as well as he could. Although it took him double the amount of time it usually took, he still did it.

He grabbed his cane on his way out of his humble apartment, the carriage was waiting for him outside. In the carriage was the last person he wished to see, Zeke Jaeger. His glasses glinted in the sunlight as the coachman held the door for Levi who sat as far away from the war chief as possible.

Zeke blew out a puff of smoke, which swirled around in the small space. Levi's lip curled into a sneer, and Zeke smirked pleased to rouse a reaction from the retired Captain.

"Big day today eh Levi?" He spoke around his cigarette and Levi rolled his eyes.

"I suppose." He agreed, eyes never leaving the man.

That was about the only words exchanged between the two, the ride was thankfully short. The carriage arrived to the castle just after noon, the coachmen opened the door for Levi and Zeke. The sunlight was bright and made Levi squint, it didn't help that the castle seemed to glow as the sun bounced off of it.

"This way old friend." Zeke instructed and Levi followed begrudgingly, Zeke led Levi through the halls and into a large ball room. The castle staff was scurrying about, carrying massive bouquets of flowers and other decorations in preparation for the summer gala. Levi had attended this very event many times over his career, but he had not intended on joining in this year. Zeke paused a few feet away from Erwin, who was standing before a young woman Levi had met a handful of times. You had aged in the past two years that he hadn't seen you, although you weren't any taller, he could see the age on your face. Much as he assumed you could see in his, you also carried yourself more confidently, shoulders back, chin up.

Erwin paused and turned to greet the two men, who both saluted him and you.

"Captain, how nice to see you." You hummed, a pleased glint in your eyes as you curtsied, much to his surprise.

"You as well Zeke." You seemed less excited to see the war chief.

"Princess, you look lovely." Zeke closed the distance between the two of you, taking your hand a bit too eagerly and bringing it to his lips. You smiled a bit tersely, but allowed it.

"Ah, and you look...as hairy as the last time we met." Your jab threw Levi off, but Erwin seemed to have expected the exchange. Zeke laughed heartily and pulled back.

"Such a sharp tongue on you princess." He chuckled and you shrugged, a smug grin on those lips of yours.

"You make it easy."

"Princess, you are aware that Levi is to accompany you to this year's gala yes?" Erwin steered the conversation in a more relevant direction and you nodded.

"Mhm, and I'm very excited to be escorted by Eldia's most eligible bachelor." Levi wasn't sure if you meant it sincerely, or if it was his turn to face the wrath of your sharp words.

"I'm sure you are." Erwin chuckled, his hand falling on the back of your tricep. You gathered your skirts and took a few steps closer to Levi.

"The last time we met, you weren't keen on dancing, I do hope that's changed." You smirked at him and Levi barely fought the flush off of his cheeks as you pushed past him.

"We can go in the drawing room and discuss logistics, the gala is a mere week away after all-" Levi tuned out whatever it was Erwin was babbling about, too focused on watching you saunter out of the room.

__

Levi spent the next week trailing behind Erwin, attending meetings and luncheons with other high ranking military members. It was boring, but nothing that he hadn't done before. The day of the gala, Hange arrived with the remaining of the 104th cadet corps. Levi felt great relief at seeing the familiar faces, Hange had eagerly came to hug him, and he pretended to hate it. Mikasa even came and gave him the briefest of embraces, Connie had been the most excited, throwing his arms around his former captain and squeezing him tightly. Armin had grinned sheepishly, and offered a small wave. Jean just nodded respectively in Levi's direction. Gabby and Falco had tagged along as well, wearing their best uniforms, decorated with their medals.

"I can't believe we get to come to the summer gala!" Connie gushed, his hazel eyes wide as he soaked in the castle in all of its glory.

"We won a war." Jean huffed, eyes sharp, hand fidgeting with his medal on his lapel.

"We lost more than we won." Mikasa murmured, her own shaky hands reaching for a scarf that was no longer wrapped around her neck. The cheery mood quickly dissipated at Mikasa's statement, Hange cleared their throat and clapped their hands in an attempt to drag everyone from their thoughts.

"Let's go meet Erwin then." They said, and Levi nodded.

"Let's." The group walked through the halls, Hange in the lead and Levi at their side, it felt like old times. The kids, well they weren't really kids anymore, were beginning to return to their annoying selves.

"-will we be able to eat the food?" Gabby asked, and Levi nearly flinched, the statement reminded him all too much of Sasha. Connie seemed less phased, he sighed and brought his arms behind his neck as they walked.

"I sure hope so."

"We're here on business." Mikasa reminded them and Jean hummed in agreement.

"We're here as representatives." Armin added, and Hange chuckled.

"Use this as an opportunity children." Hange cooed, pausing in front of the doors to the drawing room.

"Have some fun, get drunk, you've earned it." Hange then pushed the doors open, revealing the cozy drawing room, Erwin sat with his legs crossed in one of the arm chairs, a book in his lap. He closed the book and stood, his sleeve hanging limply where his arm once was.

"Cadets, erm or should I say captains." Erwin chuckled awkwardly as the kids all jumped to salute him, fists clenched over their hearts.

"Commander." They all greeted in unison.

"Sit, we have much to discuss."

__

The discussion was rather tame, a short bit of it had been relevant. Where the kids were to stand, what they were to say and how they were expected to act. The rest of the afternoon had been spent catching up and enjoying each other's company. Just a few hours before the guests were to arrive, Erwin sent the group off to find their spots.

Levi found himself waiting outside of your room, his watch gripped tightly in his fist, watching the minutes tick by. You emerged about fifteen minutes after him arriving, your dress was a deep emerald green, elegantly hugging your frame in all of the right places. You smoothed the silk gown skirts and smiled at him, the red lipstick on your lips making your teeth seem extra white.

"You look ravishing Captain." You complimented, accepting his arm before walking slowly down the hall, careful to keep his pace.

"...as do you." He choked out, a blush tickling his ears.

"Did you get all done up for me?" You pressed, hand tightening around his bicep.

"No." He answered, although he was partially lying, the truth was all he could think about as he dressed, was you. How would you be dressed? Was he to match you? Or was he expected to wear his usual military dress? He had opted for the latter, and it seemed to work well, the inky black dress coat and the gold medals that decorated his lapels seemed to compliment the emerald in your dress.

"Well, I sure hope that you will at least dance with me." You pouted, shooting him a hopeful look.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue, truthfully it was all that he could mange, he was nervous enough about joining you this evening. But you asking him to dance? He had never danced in his life, and with his legs in the state they were in now?

The two of you stopped, overlooking the ball room which was already filled with guests, milling about with flutes of champagne. You snuck a glance at Levi, who was looking down at the crowd with a bored glaze over his eyes.

"Ready?" You asked, squeezing his bicep once and he nodded, chin held high as the two of you slowly made your way down the staircase. Levi's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces, which he found in their designated spots. He knew that the king had asked him to accompany his daughter largely as a political move, not for protection as he had in the past. But old habits die hard, he double checked exits and kept an eye out for shady people, it was easier than looking at you after all. Not because you were ugly, rather the opposite, you were stunning and that intimidated him.

After at least forty five minutes of socializing, the dancing began and you tugged impatiently on his arm, which you had yet to let go of.

"Please Levi, just this once." You whispered so only he could hear, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at your closeness.

"Princess." He said sternly, although his voice did shake a tad, and you grinned, knowing that you had nearly convinced him.

"Captain." You countered, taking a step towards the dance floor.

"Just one." he said after a moment's hesitation before falling back in step with you.

"Just one." You affirmed with a wicked grin as you led him into the mass of bodies.

Levi felt his pulse race, his anxiety was roaring he had absolutely no clue how to dance, especially with his legs in the state that they were. You seemed to sense this, carefully taking his hand and resting it on your hip as you stepped ever so closely to him. Your chest was pressed against his, and he was sure that you could feel the pounding of his heart as it threatened to escape his ribcage.

"You just follow my lead." You whispered as he brought his other hand to rest naturally in the palm of yours. He nodded, eyes wandering down to glance at his feet, which were partially concealed by your skirts.

"It goes something like this, step-" You took a step towards him and he took one back.

"Then to the left," You instructed softly and he obliged, the two of you moving slightly out of sync.

"Then forwards again." You nodded as he stepped forwards and you stepped back, skirt swaying.

"Then to the right," You chuckled as his brows remained fixed in a tight knot as he tried to focus.

"Then we do it again." You seemed satisfied, and he nodded it was simple enough, although he could already feel the strain of the activity in his joints.

"Easy." He huffed, taking the lead and you giggled and fell into step with him.

"Tell me Levi, when you went across the ocean and fought those men, who were you fighting for?" The question caught him off guard and he nearly forgot the next step.

"That's an odd question." Levi shot you a mean look and you shrugged.

"I want to know what pushed Humanities strongest to be so strong." You answered, unfazed by his sour look.

"I fight for the people." He replied curtly and you sighed.

"That's a boring answer, I want to know what really drives you." You pressed and Levi frowned.

"Its the truth."

"Then tell me a lie." You raised a brow, challenging him and he screwed his nose up in distaste.

"Why would you want me to lie to you?" He asked out of genuine curiosity, no one had ever given him such a request.

"To spice some things up I guess." You hummed nonchalantly and squeezed your hand that held his.

"Then I would tell you I fought that war for you." He regretted the words, but you seemed to be pleased by them.

"Aw so you did think of me while we were apart." You cooed and Levi nearly broke away from you, but he only gripped your hand harder.

"You were the last thing on my mind." he huffed and you let out a throaty laugh. A lie, he thought of you often.

"You really are funny." You let your head fall affectionately into the crook of his neck and he swallowed thickly, as your scent washed over him.

"I didn't mean to be."

"I know, that's what makes it funny." Your breath tickled his neck as you spoke, you seemed to be in no hurry to pull away.

"Hmph." He hummed stupidly, unable to form words with you so close.

The song ended and you lifted your head, one of those wide grins sprawled across your lips.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" You whispered cheekily and he scoffed as the two of you exited the dance floor. You both found a seat at one of the tables set on the outskirts of the room, taking a break to drink and enjoy each others company.

Levi rubbed his knee under the table, the dance had truly taken a toll on him and he barely suppressed a groan. You noticed, shooting him a concerned look.

"Does it bother you often?" You asked, dragging your chair closer to his. He rolled his eye and pulled his hand slowly away from his leg.

"No."

"You're lying, just tell me the truth."

"I thought you wanted me to lie to you." He snapped back and you scoffed.

"Not about this." You reasoned and he sighed deeply.

"Yes, it hurts like a bitch." He turned to face you, his knee knocking yours and you frowned.

"You should've told me, I wouldn't have made you dance."

"I-" He paused, catching himself before the words left his mouth. But after one look at your open and concerned face he couldn't not say what he had been wanting to say.

"I wanted to." He admitted and your eyes widened a fraction.

"You...really wanted to?" Your words were raw and clearly Levi had caught you, the witty young princess off guard.

"I did."

"Would you do it again?"

"Yes."

"Hm." A smug look crossed your face and Levi scowled at you, not liking the way you seemed to be plotting something unbeknownst to him.

"What?" He snapped and you let out a short burst of laughter.

"I knew that you weren't lying when you said that you thought about me." You teased and he growled lowly under his breath.

"Maybe that was your last dance with me."

"Easy now, let's not be hasty, we have the whole night after all darling." You patted his shoulder, standing slowly and walking around the back of his chair to squeeze his shoulders before slipping off into the crowd.

He hoped that you meant it, that you would come back even if he could not dance with you again. He hoped that you had thought of him too, that his fighting had all been worth it. To spend the rest of his life by your side, even if he was just your guard or even a political ploy. He would do it for you, and he would do so happily.