#he's just a little creature.... shutting down when confronted with his own kindness......

[spliqi]

eating this moment for breakfast lunch and dinner btw

[soggy-platee]

Trade Mistakes Pt. 1/2

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Din bottles up his anger after a hunt, and you pay the price.

Maker, he pissed you off sometimes. Stomping in here like you and kid didn’t even exist. 

You understood, to some extent. The bounty he had brought it was nothing but trouble, bucking and fighting against Din’s grip the whole time. Just when he shoved the rather ugly-looking blue-skinned creature into the carbon freezer and was about to hit the button, the bounty used his cuffed hands like a club, hitting Din directly in the helmet. To his credit, he didn’t react until the guy was fully frozen, only then cussing up a storm and throwing a gloved hand into the side of the ship. Anger radiated off him as he made quick pacing laps in place and you were grateful the child in your arms was nearly asleep. 

It didn’t happen often, but maintaining such a constant stoic exterior outside the ship made him lose control in those rare moments it was just the three of you. Of course, he never laid a hand on you or the kid in the entire you had been traveling with him (Maker, almost a year now) and he even tried to avoid you seeing him like that most of the time, but it still made you angry. Angry that he felt the need to release himself in that way to begin with. You and Din had a...relationship? You still didn’t know what to call it. There simply wasn’t a word for it. Din and the kid were your world every since he hired you to watch the little monster, and you two were his. You wanted to help him, make it so he didn’t feel that way ever. 

You were mad at your own helplessness, more than anything. 

So, this time you were going to confront him about it. Figure out what you could do, what he needed from you. 

You sat the now sleeping kid in his pram, tightly shutting the lid. Din was stalking toward the cockpit, his usual destination when he was in this kind of mood. In a move even you weren’t sure about, you stepped directly into his path, planting your hands on your hips and producing the firmest look you could. He huffed, hands clenching at his sides as your presence abrupptly stopped him. He titled his helmet down, being close enough to display the nearly head-length hight differance between the two of you. 

“What?” he nearly grunted. His tone was harsh, but you tried to keep yourself calm and your tone steady. “I just don’t want you to have to do this.” 

“Do what?” he replied, trying to sidestep you in an attempt to reach his original destination. A flash of anger ran through at his dismissal of you, and as he passed you, you grabbed his shoulder and pulled. He gave in, swinging to face you as your hand pulled on him, his back now to the ladder. He was tense under your hold, so you dropped your hand. Gesturing vaguely toward the cockpit with your other, you tried not to sound exasperated as you said, “This. All this. Closing yourself off from us after hunts, it’s not good for you, for any of us.”

He straightened his shoulders in front of you, shuffling as if uncomfortable. Finally, he ground out, “It’s for the best.” He tried again to retreat so you once again grabbed him, lower on his arm this time. “No, its not. Dealing with anything like this...its not healty. I...Please-just let me help you. How can I help?”

You tried to force your sincerity into your tone, amplifying it with your wide eyes and honest expression. He stood silent for a moment before raising the hand of the arm your held to grip onto your forearm as well. His fingers were tight against your skin, almost too tight. Your expression shifted, brows knitting together and looking down to see his gloved fingertips digging into your arm. 

While you stared at his grip on you, his other hands came up to caress your face. The feeling of rought lether against your cheek made you raise your eyes to his visor. He was tense, almost too tense, as he stood there. What the hell made him act like this?

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of the closeness, while at the same time, wishing on anything that you had ever known that this touch would never end. The urge to question him, make him aware of the unprecedented closessness between you, sat on your tongue like an avail. 

Before you would object, he wrenched his hands from you. It was almost like he had lost himself for a moment, shaking his hands free of you slightly before turning and clambering up the ladder to the cockpit. 

As the metal hatch swung closed with a resounding clap, you simply stood there, shell-shocked from the simple touch of your “employer”. 

After all- that was all he was to you. Why did you- why should you care about how he felt after a hunt? So what is he was balling up his emotions, it was hardly your problem. 

As you slowly recovered, that single thought dominated your mind. He was just some man, some man who had the credits you needed to keep you alive in this messed up universe. It didn’t matter that the sight of his helm sent you into a haze, or that the way he cared for the child made your heart flutter faster than lightspeed. The way he made you feel didn’t- it couldnt- matter to you. You had a job to do, and that was it. 

The fading feeling of his hands on your body turned numb as you shook yourself from your space below the cockpit. You tried to block out his stomps of frustration as you stomped off yourself, hurdily checking in on the child you had just layed to bed. 

Unsuprsingly, the child was still awake. Staring up at you with large, unblinking eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that he was judging you for your lact of tact with his surrogate father. 

“What?” you whispered loudly. “He loves you, you don’t even know what its like to be on his bad side…”

You drifted off, realizing the futility of venting to a creature that was unable to speak for itself. Well, at least it made you feel better somewhat. Regardless, your eyes softened and your tone lightened, once again speaking to the child in your care- “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to think of your dad… He’s just so difficult- such a man’s man, determined to let his stress build up until it kills him”. 

Not that you cared of course, as long as you got paid. 

Well- that was what you tried to tell yourself at least. In reality, his attitude made you scared- for him. He came back from every hunt beat up, and wound up. Wound up so tight that you knew it would kill him faster than his less-than-safe hunting stategity. 

But maker knows you would rather die before brining that up to than Mandolorain. Your were his employee, after it. It wasn’t your place to speak to him about his feeling, let alone your feelings about him. 

So you once again stifled those pangs of concern, instead directing that energy into preparing the cabin for the long trip through hyperspace to drop this latest bouty. 

After securing the child, you made your counts around the small space on the lower deck, strapping in equipment and ensuring you had the need supplies to make the days-long jump. It wasn’t unlike Din to forget such physical neccesiciies like food and drink for himself, but it was your job to keep the child, and by extension yourself, alive. 

Moving along the back wall, you counted in your head the limited number of rashion packs you had left. Your mind drifted toward the next time you would see him, most likely handing him up a lukewarm meal into the cockpit, only dreaming of what he looked like when he finally relaxed and had himself a proper meal. 

Before your mind could fall fully into imaganined what his uncovered face looked like, a crash drew your attention. 

You jumped, twisting suddenly toward the harsh sound only to see a blur of movement. Your heart jumped a beat as your eyes struggled to focus in the dim light of the cabin. 

The breath caught in your throught slowly released as you realized the simple issue. A pile of crates had collapsed, toppling over one another right in front of the carbonite freezer. You sighed, trying to dispel the sudden adrenaline in your system. Glacing back at the pram to confirm the child did not stir, you slowly turned to the pile of boxes. 

You told yourself fixing this problem was enough for the night, and began stacking up the mismanaged crates in a pile most likely to stay out of the grumpy Mando’s way. His dismissive demnor once again reared up in your mind as you lifted each crate, making you question the very worth of this gig before you heard a slight hissing noise. 

Just as you turned to look at the pram, sure the child had found his way out once more, a sudden smoke filled the air with a lound whistle. Your sight went a dusty white as you threw your arms out, struggling to get your barings in the sudden fog. 

Before you could grab anything, you felt a wet thing through itself against you. Its weight pushed you to the ground, your head cracking against the metal floor with a deafening thud. Lights flashed against your closed eyelids, and you felt the thing above you slowly find its bearing, slowly find you. Its-his- wet finger slid up your dazed body to find your throat, slippery digits struggling to gain purchase on your slender neck. 

It was all you could do to stay consciousness as pressure began to cut off your air, your blood. Your own fingers slid across those on your neck, desperately trying to pry the grip from your neck. Your awareness was slow, but you knew the sour smell of fresh carbonite anywhere. Din’s bounty was lose, and even as you desperately tried to call for him, you felt no air- no sound- leave your mouth. 

Black dots flashed across your eyes as you thought of the child, thought of his father- neither of which could help you now. Heels kicking uselessly against the ground, you mustered one final shout in your own mind, begging for help, begging for anything- before you heard a familiar, childish coo and a thudding of metal boots.

[fifteenminutes-if]

I am SO EXCITED for this game! I just love the premise, and cannot wait to romance all of these ROs, especially Val (former friend and rival!). Classic question but I’ve got to ask- which of the ROs are the most jealous and how do they display their jealousy?

ty for the kind message!

most jealous

val: val is a funky little creature lol they are definitely the most likely to feel jealous over attention and time but also the most likely to suppress it deep down and scold themselves/feel ashamed for it. they've had a rough upbringing and have trust issues, etc. etc. so they're easy to fall into paranoia/jealousy but who are they to feel entitled to anything? would not know how to express these feelings and would cope by shutting themselves in the studio/in their room and writing. might avoid people for a few days but it would be hard to tell when val is jealous. they're great at hiding things. if you confront them about it, they'll clam up or start an explosive argument and then rot in their regret for weeks.

carmen: almost on the same level as val. struggles a lot with inadequacy and imposter syndrome so she always assumes everyone else is better than her. has a very deep tendency to want. will recognize jealousy when it arises and feel ashamed for it. sometimes will confront it head on and let the other person know she felt jealous because of x, y, z. but more often than not will be in her own head and putting on a façade of a happy-go-lucky person.

maddox: has already dealt with a lot of betrayal and some cheating in past relationships. they're used to being an accessory for people rather than a fully realized human being so all the shallow relationships they're surrounded by doesn't really give them a whole lot of room for jealousy. has gotten really good at not caring/being emotionally dissociated. bc of this they don't think they get jealous. spoiler alert: they're delusional bc as soon as they develop genuine emotions for someone they're fucked. would try really hard to shove down any feelings of jealousy but would have small moments where they'd glower, or let loose a snarky little quip here and there.

robin: a very practical person and doesn't think jealousy on its own is productive. jealousy arises from the desire to have/be something. would try to analyze why they feel jealous in the first place, try to pinpoint what it is they desire and then dismiss those feelings in favour of working toward what they want. you can see how this can become complicated when it comes to a person.

mateo: don't think mateo feels jealous often over anything/anyone. not to say he doesn't care about the people he loves but he's not the type to force anything if he feels like time has run its course. he puts a lot of trust in his relationships/looks for the best in most people and he expects the same in return.

least jealous

[invinciblerodent]

Throwing right back at you for iona, arvid and petyr 🌎 and 📓

ooh, fun!!!

Ask game!

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Arvid is very much a cleric of Tempus- maybe his devotion cools slightly throughout the course of the game (his faith used to offer him far more solace before being confronted with the cruelty and pettiness of other gods and the apathy of his own), but I think ultimately victory winds up affirming him in his -shaken, but intact- Tempuran beliefs.

It's difficult to articulate concisely, and now I'm really mad at myself for not putting color-coded sticky tabs on my first filled notebook, because it took me entirely too long to find a piece of text I was thinking of regarding some of his thoughts lol:

"It's never really the Gods doing the helping, right?" Arvid's voice is a quiet rumble in his chest now, as if sharing a secret. "It's always those who follow them. It's not Selûne who protected Last Light- it was Isobel. And it isn't her, or Shar, or Tempus, or Silvanus who stitch our wounds- it's us, and it's our -for lack of a better word- humanity."

"Gods, they have boundless power, divine judgment, and worship is... something I'm sure you don't want to hear me prattle on about, but godhood, my love... Godhood, it demands indifference. It requires, in their infinite grace, as much cruelty as it does apathy. And you, bright, passionate, brilliant you... apathy does not become you."

(I also kind of like to toy with the thought that, being a cleric to a different neutral deity, he has a bit of an inherent understanding of Gale and Mystra's relationship as god and worshiper remaining part of their lives for good, but that'd be entirely too long to get into lol.)

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

(I'm gonna concentrate on lyrics for this, mostly because it's like 1 am and my brain is kinda doing its best to not shut down lol.)

Following your example with this, this song, "creature" by half.alive, really informed the way I approached making Arvid, and I just can't not immediately think of these lines when I think of him:

It's just... his theme song, despite me not listening to much else Christian altogether, lol.

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Iona is a bit of a tougher case, because she has a background in a strict community of which she never really was a genuine believer, which was an offshoot of Ilmaterian belief, and that... kind of drove her to reject a lot of religious teachings.

Throughout the game, she's kind of looking for herself and what she believes in in all respects, but I like to think that, through being free to explore her fey nature and go back to her roots, later in life she'll kind of get back to a casual worship of the Seldarine, primarily Sehanine.

Since she'll wind up spending most of her life traveling in the dark and with an undead elf by her side, I think it'd be quite sweet if she were to find some comfort in the Lunar Lady, who is the protector deity of travelers, the elven dead, and the Moon, lol. I think she'd feel a sort of kinship with her, far more than she ever did with any god of the Faerûnian pantheon. (Now that I look at it, it's really sweet how the two of them are a Sun and a Moon elf, and Sehanine favors both Sunstone and Moonstone. That's just cute, I like that.)

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

Not gonna lie, Iona's playlist is like 40 songs now, but one of the songs I feel most attached to with her is "The Hand That Feeds" by the Crane Wives.

I mean, a lot of it is very Iona-core to me, but this sums up a lot of her kinda life-philosophy.

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Oh i remembered a post I made about this way back when, and took entirely too long tracking it down, but I honestly can't phrase it any better than this lol: Petyr's got very little experience with any organized religion. He grew up among druids (I feel like it's rather natural a fit for a rather neutral/neutral good-aligned ranger), so he wouldn't say that he's a believer of any one specific faith, he's more in the "well of course the ancient powers are in perfect balance as they should be. gods are real, yeah, but they too are just pieces in this game- larger pieces, but pieces nonetheless, just like you and me" school of thought. His "faith" is less one with tenets, and rules, and a deity, and more of a general, handwave-y type of... mystic spirituality, where it's okay for him to just be as decent as he can be (which, the bar is at roughly his ankles there), do what he strikes him as right, and the rest will sort itself out. (If he had any magical aptitude, he would be a druid, but he doesn't, so he isn't, basically.)

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

This one is a little more difficult because the songs I associate with him are primarily instrumental, and/or in, like, Polish. Or Danish. There's some Icelandic and Russian in there too I believe. And the ones in English aren't the most.... shall we say, lyrically poignant pieces, lol.

It's all very vibes-based, more than words-based.

But of course, Abney Park's "The Traveler's Curse" was one of the first songs I started to associate with him, specifically because of these lines:

[spider-self]

@loyaltybroken liked this for a starter

How easily they wandered back into IT’s web, responding to IT’s summons so readily. Did they so badly want to die? Children so rarely had a sense of self preservation. Caught in the euphoria of life, they could never imagine a scenario where they were killed until the moment it happened. IT had seen it so many times, the final flicker of recognition, the wild terror at the sight of their demise, death with a painted smile. Adults were more practical, far more likely to be prone to fanciful visions of their ends. But even these were abstract in their own ways, another stubborn denial of the possibility. Of course it couldn’t happen to them. How could it? They were special, they were far more alive and real than anyone else could ever hope to be. Someone else might die yes, but not them. Never them.

One of them at least had known that to stand against IT was futile. IT had felt his life snuff out a few days ago. The feeling like a soft brush against the back of IT’s mind. Stanley Uris.. It was a shame really, IT would have liked to him to have come back and done the deed at home in Derry. IT would have gathered his body and had it take pride of place in the depths of IT’s lair. There IT would croon over each lovely bone and let IT’s laughter gurgle out of every drain.

His loss would have hurt them badly. What seven children could accomplish was far more than what six adults could. They were weak now and IT was strong. IT had bided IT’s time, resting and dreaming, letting IT’s wounds heal in preparation for this final confrontation. They would lose and they would die and IT would keep them forever among IT’s other little trophies. Perhaps when all this was done, IT would seek out Uris and take his body. It would be good to have the full set.

Of all of their little club, IT found Richie the most irksome. Rather than cower or at least show some semblance of respect to IT’s power. The brat had thrown nothing but insults and sly quips, as if that might possibly make his death quick. No…Richie would die slowly, his throat ripped to shreds so that chattering voice was finally silenced forever. Perhaps IT would leave him alive long enough to make him think that if he’d only kept his mouth shut, IT might have spared them all.

A foolish notion, but it was one IT entertained as IT watched him, drumming IT’s fingers idly on the table IT was sat at. The human disguise was disgustingly limiting. All of IT’s glory compressed down into a creature constrained by its own mortality. The heart that beat sluggishly in IT’s chest reminded IT sickeningly of the meat that comprised this form. Weak flesh and brittle bones, human horrors. Hardly fit for a hunt of any kind. Even the thought of speaking felt disgusting, a heavy tongue so very inefficient in comparison to simply speaking directly into Richie’s mind. But even he, dull as he was would probably notice that. And IT wasn’t keen to reveal Itself just yet. IT wanted to play first.

“Hey excuse me. Are you Richie Tozier? I’m such a big fan.”

[xcrystalzero]

love languages

Characters Included: Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, Zhongli

Kaeya:

Giving: Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch

-Have you heard this man's voice-lines? The dude is the literal definition of a sweet-talker.

-Will constantly be telling you how good you look in that new outfit or how well-spoken you just were or how good you are at everything your do.

-Also kind of handsy??

-Not like in an obnoxious way (well at least not all the time). Loves to have a hand around your waist when you guys are just talking at the tavern or taking a walk around Mondstat.

-Will 100% grab your ass out of nowhere and then pretend like nothing happened.

Receiving: Physical Touch, Quality Time

- On the other hand, if you grab his ass, he may pass away on the spot.

-Absolutely loves it when you initiate physical contact, especially in public. Will tease you every single time about it but loves seeing this "bold" side of you.

"Oh? Someone's a little needy today." Kaeya cooed as he turned to glance over his shoulder at the way you were currently clinging to his back. You pouted up at him, making a show of slowly pulling away.

"You don't like it? I guess I'll just need to go find someone else to hug... You think Diluc is at the tavern?" You had taken a single step away when a pair of arms wound their way around your waist.

"Hey now..." There's a bit of a warning in his voice but it's nothing harsh. His breath hits your skin as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "I never said that."

-Has a pretty packed schedule as a captain so he doesn't have much free time to spend just chilling. So when you take time out of your equally busy schedule specifically to spend with him, he gets all warm and tingly inside.

-Especially loves it when you do the planning since again, he's a busy man. If you show up at the Knight's headquarters and are just like "get in loser, we're going on a date" he'll probably fall in love all over again.

Diluc:

Giving: Gift Giving, Acts of Service

-Mans is the second-richest person in all of Tevat. If even bring up a slight interest in something, expect it to show up at your doorstep the next day, perfectly gift-wrapped.

-Will shrug it off when you confront him about it, wondering why you're making a big deal out of something so trivial.

"Diluc why is there an army of stuffed animals on my porch?" You aren't sure what your eyes are supposed to be. The fiery-haired man before you or the 50 fluffy creatures arranged in perfectly packaged boxes sitting on the ground in front of you.

"The other day, you said you thought they were cute" Diluc shrugs as he weaves his way through the maze of little creatures to stand by your side.

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU BUY THEM ALL!"

-Also likes to make things easier for you whenever he can.

-He's always offering to call you a carriage so you don't have to walk places, or make sure that all of the errands are done before you get a chance to get to them.

-He just wants to reduce any stress in your life and it's cute.

Receiving: Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation

-Touch-starved motherfucker.

-Somewhat shy when it comes to PDA and just general affection but over time, he gets used to it and starts to crave it.

-Will never ask you for affection directly but will definitely hint at it. He'll let his hand rest gently on your shoulder for just a little bit too long, or linger after he's already said goodnight, and that's how you know that he wants some love and affection.

-Really likes when you run your hands through his hair. There's just something so soothing about it, especially since he hasn't allowed someone to be that comfortable with him in a while. May just fall asleep in your arms if you keep doing it.

-In the same way, he likes to hear praises. He's not a man who needs to be told by others that he's doing the right thing or that he's doing a good job, but it does kind of feel nice when you're the one saying those things to him.

Xiao:

Giving: Acts of Service, Gift Giving

-He feels like he has nothing of his own to give so he tries to make himself useful in the only way he knows how.

-You mentioned that there's this commission you took that's harder than you expected and has had you busy for the past few days? Oh look at that, somehow the issue is solved. The Treasure Hoarders seem to be creeping too close to the trading ports for comfort. Not anymore they're not.

-Gets borderline creepy at some points where he seems to know every little thing you're struggling with and be able to solve all your problems immediately but are you really going to complain?

-Will constantly bring you food or little things that he saw that reminded him of you.

"Here, take this."

You glance puzzled at the hand the adeptus has outstretched to you. Gently, you reach out and take whatever it is he is offering you, bringing it up to your face to observe. A soft chuckle leaves your lips. In your hands is a tiny butterfly seemingly constructed of folded and interlocking leaf strips.

"Aww Xiao, did you make this for me?"

"I... I just happened to have it," he stutters out, looking anywhere except at you. That does nothing but coax another soft laugh out of you as you gently lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you, I'll take good care of it."

"... you better."

Receiving: Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch

- Normally, he thinks the sweet-talking of mortals is just another form of manipulation. That being said, when he hears any of those sugared phrases coming from you, his heart skips a beat.

-The first few times you complemented him, he literally had to stop and process for a second because wow. That felt great.

"Mortals are so incapable," Xiao mutters as he brushes slime condensate off of his sleeve. You sheath your sword before turning back to him, a grin on your face.

"Well anyone would be compared to you. You're really amazing you know!"

He froze. They were just words and nothing he hadn't heard before from workers at the inn or humans in the past, so why was his heart beating to fast?

"Xiao?" You questioned, catching up to him and waving a hand slowly in front of his face.

Coming back to his senses, Xiao huffed, turning his head to the side to hide the red creeping onto his cheeks. "Shut up..."

-Surprisingly enough, also really really likes when you touch him. Of course, always ask first or he might just straight up deck you on sheer instinct.

-But as he gets more and more comfortable around you, he grows to love the way you will absentmindedly grab his hand whenever you want to show him something or the way you like to brush his hair gently out of his eyes when the wind picks up.

-His ears turn red whenever you touch him, no matter how innocent the touch and he will get flustered if you ever decide to tease him about it.

Zhongli:

Giving: Gift Giving, Quality Time

- For a broke bitch, he sure loves to spoil you. Will always bring you to upscale restaurants to try the most expensive dishes or take you out to the stalls to look at exquisite jewelry.

"Which one should I get?"

"Why not both?"

"And who is going to pay for that?"

"That... I did not consider."

- Likes to be around you whenever he can. He's not the busiest person now that he's basically given up the job he had for so long (spoilers???) so he has more time to spend with you.

-If you don't mind, he likes to just be around you throughout the day as you do your own thing, just enjoying being in your company.

Receiving: Quality Time

-The dude has been alive for so long, he just wants to spend some of that time with someone else.

-His favorite thing is just to wander around Liyue Harbor with you, pointing out historical landmarks or just rambling around the history of the land. Loves it when you ask him questions about things or just generally express interest in the things he is talking about.

"That section of the harbor actually used to be a theater."

"Like for plays?"

"Yes actually. However, it was demolished as a sign of the end of the cultural revolution as the city turned to trade as its primary focus."

"Oh yeah you were telling me about that yesterday!" You remark excitedly, gaze drifting around as though you are attempting to imagine the world Zhongli describes. But he is only looking at you, a warm smile spreading slowly over his face.

There is no shortage of people in Liyue Harbor to listen to his stories but only your commit them to memory almost immediately, constantly asking him questions and wanting to learn more about his world. And just for that, he thinks he may fall even deeper in love with you.

note: let me know if you guys like this and i'll do a part two with some of the characters i missed!

[lollytea]

No need to apologise for the derailing loved reading all of it (and as person who tends follow a stream of thoughts i relate)

When it comes to shipping in every fandom the characters / dynamics tend to be simplified for the convince (and bc id be hard to whip out a whole essay about in and out s of their relationship everytime you wanna make a silly joke, but it tends to be so widely and often used that it makes me sometimes think "wait you don t really think that they would act like that right?"But that s something that s just gonna happen ig and who am i to police ppl on jokes🤷

Loved the insignt about his military upbringing and automantically analysing ppl s strenght which i haven t though about but very much agree.

Althought i also think that beside willows powers she has proved to be quite fearless (let s overlook ladybugs / j) especially in front of Hunter where she stood up to Darius and was ready to protect EE with her body. She knew she was gonna lose and that she s weaker than the coven head but that didn t stop her. That s one of the reasons (i think) Hunter recognised fake willow so soon. Because real willow regardless if she s stronger or not overlooks the dangers and focuses on doing everything to save her friends.

And willow + gus being Hunters safe space is so dear to me it s honestly ridiculous

Hopefully after some time in nocedas household he ll have time to relax/heal and be a lil snarky maybe in a form of sibling like banter with luz?

//and back to willow and her strenght there s this hc i have about beta willow. That althought beta universe is way more dangerous/bloody i like to think willow wasn t that much violent there? But unhinged for sure, using plants attacks and refusing to "unspell" them after fight (they are her beloved plants and she s not heartless enough to make them disappear just after bringing them to life) leaving those dangerous creatures (but before the battle she always thinks what kind of flowers would grow the best in this climate/soil etc)

(was the last addition totally off the topic? ... perhaps Is this ask a mess? Very much yes. Sorry!)

I'm happy you liked it!! I appreciate when other people whose thoughts are similarly many but disorganised see my stuff and are like "yeah me too man."

And yeah whenever I make a silly little joke about Huntlow that's not entirely a reflection of how I really see them I always think about that one post that's like "oh no they're gonna think I don't understand themes and narratives!!" But like. I have several essays I can whip out if anyone questions me about it. I am very easily coaxed into writing huntlow essays. Practically dying to at all times. All somebody's gotta do is bring up a specific topic of discussion and their own opinion to get me started and I'll go off the rails.

Willow is SO brave man. And I like to believe that it's character development, going by season 1 where she went into denial over stepping on bones. I think the Eda petrification thing really changed her brain chemistry into understanding that the world they lived in was corrupt and you either gotta learn to protect or get protected.

She's still just a kid tho. You KNOW that deep down she was probably terrified during her confrontation with Darius, especially after it was demonstrated that she was way WAY outmatched in this fight and she hadnt a chance of winning. But she did it anyway because her friends' lives were at stake and somebody had to fight for them. Man Willow is SO cool.

(Something kinda tragic about her eventually giving up and throwing her arms out to shield them and shutting her eyes tight. She thinks she's gonna die protecting them. And it's noble. It really is. But we gotta remember that she blames herself for all of them being in this mess.)

I love this scene a lot because like both the "half-a witch" admissions from earlier, it's a moment between Willow and Hunter where they realize "Oh. You're like me."

They're both brave to a recklessly suicidal extent. They're protectors. They're self sacrificial.

Hunter sees her bravery in this scene and he understands it completely. She was prepared to handle this herself and lose in the process and he begs her to please just let him do it for her. His tone of his voice, the intense eye contact, his use of "Captain" and his plea? He knew she wasn't going to run away unless he begged. It wasn't the kind of person she was.

Hes known her for a DAY!!! But he gets it!!! He fucking gets her!!!!

Of COURSE this was one of the many reasons he realized LR Willow was a fake. After this girl pulled some shit like THAT there is no way she's getting spooked by illusions.

I know Hunter's gonna have some rough times in season 3 but I also know he's not just gonna be angsting the whole time. He's too funny. As much as the crew loves putting him through shit, they also clearly love him in comedic situations. They love Hunter man. You can clearly tell. He's gonna be so snarky he's gonna be so annoying. Hes gonna argue with Luz and probably Gus and maybe even Amity. It's gonna be great.

I'm so excited for s3 Luz and Hunter dynamic. It's coming I know it is. Its gonna be big and everything I ever wanted. Its so interesting to me how, besides Flapjack, Luz is the character Hunter has been the most comfortable around. They just have something special man. They're gonna have their snarky snippy little bickering, I know they will.

Beta stuff isn't really a thing I'm all that interested in. I'm happy people have their fun with the designs and coming up with lore and headcanons for those versions of the characters and the lore but I'm so attached to the canon interpretations that I can't really get invested. But I do love this!! Even in canon itself, I'd love to see Willow be the kind of person who dotes and fawns over her horrifying poison mucus spraying briars or whatever other plants her creatively unhinged little brain conjures up. Like they're her BABIES!!! It makes people uncomfortable but Willow is just so sweet that they don't have the heart to tell her to get rid of them.

[erimeows]

For You (NSFW)

Optimus Prime wasn’t good at confrontation; physical, verbal, emotional- none of it. So, as he stood with his digit hovering over your doorbell, he could feel his spark beating in his throat. His anxiety was killing him, and the part of him that was so anxious was tempted to just turn around and walk away.

He could save it for another night, couldn’t he? ...No, he couldn’t. He’d been telling himself another night, just one more night, next week, later for months now. It was time. 

Now or never.

Three, two, one-

With a sharp inhale, Optimus rung your doorbell and wrung his servos together in front of him. He could feel his faceplates burning red with a heavy blush as he waited for you to open the door, but thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for too long.

The door slowly came open, revealing you behind it. You wore a (f/c) robe that was loosely tied, revealing part of the white teddy you wore underneath. It took everything in Optimus to tear his optics away from the beginnings of the chest that he so desperately wanted to bury his faceplates in, but when said optics landed on your face, graced with a sultry smirk and lustful (e/c) eyes, it didn’t help. 

You grabbed his servo with one hand and pulled him far enough inside to shut the door behind him before pushing his back against it- and, of course, he let you. The second you went to lean up and kiss him, though, Optimus shook his head and pulled away. 

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“You say that every time,” You rebutted and rested your hands on his hips, gently massaging circles into the metal plating with your thumbs.

It was true, and he knew that. Every time after the first time you two had met up like this, he’d argued against it, but you always pulled him right back in with your charm. 

“No, I mean it this time,” Optimus stopped you, a bit awkward as he placed a servo on your shoulder and backed himself further up against your door to put some distance between the two of you. He wasn’t ready to do this. He wanted to keep you forever, but it wasn’t fair to you. You deserved better and he needed to tell you the truth. “We need to talk.”

You seemed to know what was coming, so you pulled away and crossed your arms with a huff. Your eyebrows furrowed. 

Honestly? The situation was uncomfortable. Optimus could see the candles lit in your house, smell the perfume of yours flooding into his olfactory sensors, and the lingerie under your robe... You’d assumed he was coming over to interface with you like usual, and as much as he wanted to, he used all of his willpower to resist the urge in favor of watching you storm over to the living room couch. You plopped down onto the corner seat in a dramatic fashion with your arms still crossed. 

“At least come in and sit down here if you’re going to do this to me tonight, Optimus. I’d rather you not do it in my doorway.”

You knew, and he knew. Shaky in his movements, the Autobot locked your front door and walked over to your couch so he could sit next to you. 

Your relationship had always been complicated, to say the least.

It started when him and his team had started battling the Decepticons on earth. With all of the news coverage they received, they were well-known amongst politicians, media outlets, law enforcement, and citizens in Detroit, and the Autobots had not only captured their interests, but yours as well. You were a scientist interested in doing studies on Cybertronian creatures to figure out what they were and how you could apply them and their technology to life on earth. There were plenty in the scientific community who were interested in them, of course, but you were the only one who had written a heartfelt letter about the matter, promising not to do anything too inhumane- the occasional metal sample, recharge studies, strength tests, and so on. 

Then again... You’d included a picture of yourself in your first letter to the base, and that may or may not have been what captured Optimus’s attention initially. But then he met you and allowed you to conduct your experiments with Ratchet as your assistant on base, and not only were you gorgeous, but you were smart, creative, kind, easygoing, loving... You were everything Optimus Prime wished he was. So, even when the experiments stopped and you moved onto your next project, you still came around the base and Optimus still came around your house behind his teammates’ backs. 

‘Why is she still here, Prime? Her study’s over.’

‘Yes, I know, Ratchet. She’s just... Helping me with some things.’

Ratchet commented on it the most, skeptical as always. Bumblebee always asked where he disappeared to in the middle of the night. Prowl was starting to get concerned by how tired Optimus seemed, and Bulkhead was the one who constantly snapped him out of his lovestruck dazes when he got caught up thinking about you.

The first time Optimus Prime made love to you was still a blur. He had developed feelings rather quickly, but it wasn’t until months of building up the courage to make a move that he’d finally done something; shown up to your house in the middle of the night and taken you into his arms the second you opened the door. It had escalated from there with you wrapping your arms back around him and pushing your lips against his, slamming the door shut behind the two of you and tumbling in a pile of warmth and metal onto your living room floor without any regard to how sore you’d be the next morning.

It had turned into a regular occurrence after that. Optimus showed up to your house, showered you in kisses and praise, and the two of you would interface, no matter how hard he tried to resist. And trust me, he tried to resist because he knew in his spark that it wasn’t right.

You’d shared your hopes and dreams and body with him, and he didn’t want to let all of that go, but how could he love what he didn’t deserve in the first place?

He was putting you in danger by being with you, anyway. Being with you was selfish, especially considering that neither of you had dared to say the ‘L’ word or put any sort of label on it. It was just the two of you spending an increasing amount of time together, talking, making love, falling in love when there was a good chance of it failing in the end. And both of you knew. 

“It’s hard for me to come out and say this,” Optimus started. “But I love you, and I know you feel the same way.”

Your reaction was surprisingly restrained. No denying, no deflecting, nothing except for a small nod. You allowed your (e/c) eyes to fall shut and took a deep breath before speaking. 

“I do.”

“It’s remained unspoken for far too long, but part of the reason I haven’t addressed it is because you deserve better,” Optimus reached over and set a servo on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze, though that seemed to do nothing. You flinched, not even able to look at him for a moment. “I know it hurts, but you’re worth more than this... (y/n), darling-”

“No, you don’t get to tell me that after everything we’ve been through, Optimus,” You hissed, finally gathering the courage to look right at him, (e/c) burning into aquamarine. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

“I don’t know,” He confessed with a half-hearted shrug. The simple answer was because the two of you loved each other and didn’t want to let go, but the complicated answer was... Well, complicated. “But what I do know is that I don’t want this for you.”

“Then what do you want?” You snapped.

Optimus understood. He had no right to dictate your life, your romantic interest, or anything else about you; you were a strong, intelligent woman with your own hopes and dreams, and unfortunately, he somehow fit into all of that for you. Still, he answered your question honestly.

“I want you to go live a normal life; meet a human, start a family or get married, stay single if you want, even. I don’t want you to get too attached to me and regret it when you start thinking about the little things later down the line... If you stay with me, you’ll always be in danger, we won’t be able to have sparklings of our own, and I could leave you here on earth or die any day now. Is that what you want, (y/n)? You can still leave me-”

“Are you stupid?” You asked, which made him blink.

The Prime hadn’t expected for you to be happy about this, but he hadn’t expected for you to outright insult him either, let alone call him stupid.

“What?”

“Do you think I would’ve done all of this with you without considering the consequences!?” You raised your voice and jerked away from him, holding a hand to cover your chest, offended. Optimus took the hint and pulled his servo away from your thigh to avoid angering you further. 

He crossed his arms in frustration. 

“You know what? Yeah, I do,” He answered. “Because you care about me too much to realize how big of a mistake this is going to be if we go through with it. Let’s say you’ve fully thought this through and don’t care about anything I’ve brought up- even if that’s the case, I’m not good enough for you, (y/n). I’m so large compared to you that I’m afraid I’ll hurt you one of these days, I’m selfish, I’m inconsiderate, I mess everything up at every turn, and Primus, I’m so unattractive-”

“Is that where all of this is coming from?” You asked, suddenly a lot more quiet, and Optimus winced at your tone. “I knew something was up, too; you’ve been keeping the lights off when we have sex and most of the time it feels like you can’t look at me anymore, but I... I thought I’d done something wrong, why couldn’t you have told me earlier that you were feeling like this?”

You were giving him the look; (e/c) eyes peering up at him, full of love and passion and so much more that was burning into his processor to make sure he wouldn’t ever forget it.

“Because I knew you were going to react like this- I knew you were going to look at me like that and tell me I’m wrong about myself, and it’s making it ten times harder to break it off with you, but what I said is final. Being with me is dangerous, you deserve to live a normal life, and I’m not good enough for you-”

Optimus’s self-deprecating rambling was cut off by you throwing yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on as tight as you possibly could. He uncrossed his own, unsure of what to do with them- he didn’t want to hug you back and give you the wrong idea, but he so desperately wanted to feel your warmth on his digits and palms. 

“Shut up! Have you ever thought that facing our problems head on would be better than giving up everything we have?” You argued, pleaded, voice cracking as your tears fell onto his shoulders. “You think that being with me is selfish, but what’s really selfish is you not giving me a chance to make this work! You’re wrong, Optimus-”

“Leave me, (y/n),” Optimus reached forward and caressed your cheek with a servo. The amount of tears he found himself wiping away with his thumb made him frown- was this really for the best? Was he in the wrong here? No, this was exactly why he had to go through with it; whatever hurt came from this point on would be much, much worse if he allowed your relationship to continue. “I know you’re hurting right now, but you’ll thank me later. Cut your losses and leave. Go live a happy life, fall in love again- with a human- and focus on your work.”

“I can’t do it, I’m sorry,” You apologized, only making things worse. The fiery anger that you had expressed initially was fading into something much more melancholy as you hung onto him tighter and buried your face into his neck. “I love you too much. If you really mean everything you said, and you don’t want to be with me, push me away; I’ll leave, and we’ll never talk about it again... If that’s what you really want. Push me away, Optimus.”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, (y/n), I...” He stopped when he heard you sob into his shoulder, the sound muffled by his metal plating. Part of him knew that if he had to leave earth in the near future, the impact would be more severe on you than this, but he couldn’t see and hear you cry and push you away like you had asked him to. He couldn’t leave you, couldn’t let you go, no matter how much he hated himself for it. “Oh, to hell with it, I can’t do this anymore- So what if it’s selfish?” Before Optimus could stop himself, he found himself moving his servo from your tear-stained cheek to the back of your head, wounding his digits in your (h/l) (h/c) hair and dragging you into him for a heated kiss. You hummed and leaned into it without hesitation. Optimus sighed through his nose when he felt the tension leave both of your bodies, your hands resting on the side of his neck, his spare servo resting on the small of your back to support you and hold you close to him. Your much smaller lips molded into his the best they could, tasting of sugar and a human spice called cinnamon as you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip plate. His servo in your hair ran through the locks and wrapped them around his digits to yank at them- heat consumed his body to the point that his cooling fans were already turning on with the feeling of his spike pushing against the constraints of his interface plating. After what felt like forever yet not nearly long enough, you pulled away from Optimus and looked up at him, lips swollen from the intensity of your kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” You responded, a little rushed. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You choked out, sniffling and clearing up the remainder of your tears before shedding your robe and kissing his neck, cautious and soft yet needy and desperate. The white teddy contoured your body perfectly, hugging your plump ass and highlighting the shape of your breasts as your nipples perked up against the lacy fabric. Your sides were exposed by the slits cut into the outfit. Optimus found himself drawn to the exposed (s/c) skin instantly, so he rested his servos on your hips and took a deep breath in. You were so small compared to him, too; both of his servos covered the entirety of your waist, back, and stomach when he had them like that, and oh Primus, he could already imagine how you’d look splayed out underneath him with his spike buried in your core. He was sure that if he didn’t open his interface panel in the next few minutes, he was going to burst. “I need this, need you... Optimus.”

The next few minutes were wordless, with Optimus picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom. There were candles lit there, too, and while he was sure that was a fire hazard, he appreciated your attempt to set the atmosphere- even if it had been temporarily squandered by his earlier spiel. So, he shut and locked the door behind him and followed that with gently setting you on the edge of the bed. 

When he kneeled on the floor in front of you, you blinked your (e/c) eyes, (s/c) cheeks lit aflame when he took your hand in one of his and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. And, as he looked up at you, he realized something; maybe he didn’t think he deserved you, but you deserved him if that’s what he wanted, and instead of shoving his own self-deprecating sentiments down your throat, he wanted to try to be more thankful that he had you, wanted to stop worrying about what was ahead and enjoy what he had in the moment. 

“(y/n), I want to tell you everything tonight, I...” Optimus cleared his throat and continued to hold your hand as he leaned up and nuzzled your neck. “I’ve never loved anybot or anyone like I’ve loved you. I don’t think I could live without you; without the mornings I wake up with you and bury my face in your hair, without the feeling of your skin on mine, without seeing how the sunlight pours through the windows and onto your skin when the sun rises and how your lashes flutter against your cheekbones when you wake up-”

“Make love to me,” You cut him off, looking up at him, and oh, how he could see the utter love and adoration in your eyes. He wondered how such a small being was capable of holding so much love for him, but he didn’t dare question it, doing as you’d told him and reaching up to unlace the front of your teddy, the ribbon that kept the two halves of the front together coming untied underneath his nimble fingers within seconds. It fell off of the upper half of your body, revealing rounded shoulders and supple breasts, a soft tummy and feminine hips. You didn’t hesitate to lift yourself off of the bed just enough to pull the rest of the lingerie down your body and kick it across the room. Now, all of you was exposed from head to toe. This was the point at which Optimus would usually get on the bed and pick you up by your waist, pull you over so you could sit on his faceplates, but he was so emotional and pent up at this point that he knew he couldn’t wait that long to be inside you. “Hurry up, please? I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

The Autobot gave you a nod and stood up, so you laid down with your back on the bed and watched him open his interface panels. He couldn’t help but watch your face as he released his spike, already fully pressurized- because no matter how many times the two of you had done this, you always seemed to be taken aback by the sheer size of it, your cheeks glowing red and eyes blown wide with lust in a manner that flattered him. 

You didn’t speak, only gulping and squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Optimus Prime crawled over you on top of your mattress with his knees on either side of your hips to cage you underneath him. The slit of his spike was already wet with prefluid and lubricant, and he wanted to fuck you so bad, but he knew he had to wait until you were ready.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, before you’d probably even thought of him in such a way, he’d done his own research on human mating rituals to prepare himself for you; enough research to know that human women needed thorough foreplay and preparation to take a human’s spike, let alone a Cybertronian’s, which was usually larger. Due to that, he was always very careful with you, giving you plenty of time and prep before you ever had sex. 

So, as he balanced himself on his knees and pinned your wrists above your head with one servo, he circled two of the digits on his free servo with his glossa to lubricate them and get them ready for you. You spread your shaky legs and moved your hips up, almost as if to tell him to get on with it. Your impatience was evident in the way your body moved, your breaths heavy and a pout of frustration taking over your face.

Unable to help himself, Optimus chuckled at the feeling of you trying to move your hands out of his grip to no avail. It was nice to know that despite what had happened earlier, nothing bad had happened to your usual dynamic- and the sound of you bashfully giggling in return made his spark swell with the love he had for you.

Having had enough with making you wait, the Prime prodded his pointer digit at your entrance and slowly pushed it in. He followed with his middle digit and waited for you to adjust, the both of you letting out a sigh. You were so different than any Cybertronian he’d ever done anything with; piping hot, wet, velvety, and sensitive, he couldn’t help how his spike throbbed at the feeling of you moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers as you hummed. With him holding your wrists, you couldn’t move your arms down, but you managed to grip one of the digits that was assisting in holding you down. 

You’d adjusted quickly enough to his fingers, so Optimus began a steady rhythm of pulling them most of the way out before pushing them back in, over and over and over again, getting progressively faster with each push. You rewarded him with your sweet moans in return and tilted your head back with your mouth agape in the depths of your pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” Prime praised you without hesitation and dipped in until he was knuckle deep. That made you say his name especially loud, so he continued doing it, wanting to hear that sound again. “So gorgeous with your face red and eyes half-lidded. I love how you always squeeze one of my fingers during it because your hands are too tiny to fully hold mine; you’re so small I fear breaking you sometimes, but the fact that you still trust me when I’m big enough to crush you like this makes me feel so good.”

“I think your eyes are beautiful,” Surprisingly enough, you praised him back, looking him straight in the optics. “I love it when you look at me when we do it; the face you make is what sends me over the edge, and the noises you make in my ear drive me wild. The way you have so much physical power over me just makes it even more exciting than it already is. It’s like you could do whatever you want to me, any time you want, and I’d let you.”

Your words were rushed but confident, though as soon as you finished, you hid your face in the pillow your head was currently on to stifle a moan at a particularly rough crook of his fingers. 

“Ah, you’re embarrassing me now,” The Autobot murmured, able to feel his normally cool-colored faceplates drowning in a heavy pink blush. You seemed ready enough and he was growing just as impatient as you had been earlier, so Optimus slowly withdrew and positioned himself between your legs with the head of his spike at your entrance. He bit his lower lip and rubbed his tip against your slick folds before teasing your clit, which made you emit a cracked moan. “You’re ready, yes?” You gave a hurried nod and moved to rest your cheek on the cold pillow. “I need to hear it, baby. Use your words.”

“I’m ready, please-” Optimus didn’t wait any longer after that, wanton and revved up, the Autobot sheathed his spike in you in one deep stroke and reveled in the debauched cry of yours that followed. Your pussy enveloped him completely, taut and scorching and slick, so much so that his hips stuttered with the willpower it took him to let you adjust instead of fucking you raw like an animal the way he wanted to. 

“(y/n), my dearest love,” Optimus groaned and pulled back about half away, then pushed back in, only for your heat to pulse and twitch around him. You moved your hips up to meet his and grinded them in a circular motion in what must’ve been an attempt to urge him to get on with it. “Oh, Primus, if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to stop that. Tonight is not the night to test my patience, because you feel absolutely delectable right now and it’s taking everything in me not to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk or sit down without feeling my spike in you for weeks.”

“Yeah?” You taunted, voice breathy as you dared to test him by wiggling your hips even more and purposefully clenching down around him. The thread that was the last of his patience snapped at that, so he gripped your wrists even tighter in his servo and used the other to balance himself over you so he wouldn’t crush your body. You only continued your teasing.

“Yeah,” Optimus finally responded to you, his lips pulling into a tight smile to keep himself from making any noises that were too embarrassing. When he regained his composure, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “This is going to get a bit rougher than usual, so don’t say I didn’t try to warn you earlier. You earned this.”

With that, the red and blue bot withdrew until it was just his tip inside you, and then thrusted all the way back in- so hard and deep that he could feel the back of your inner walls. You cried out to him again, your legs trembling as you clenched them together around his hips. Optimus could only smirk- for as teasing and impatient as you’d been earlier, your cocky demeanor was certainly washing away with every rough thrust of his spike, replaced with desperation and heat. 

“Optimus,” Your back arched off the bed as you were split open by his spike, but as much as you tried to move, all you could do was lay there and take it with your arms pinned by Optimus’s servo and your lower body trapped in place by his legs between yours and his spike deep inside of you. “Optimus!”

You looked at him, (e/c) eyes clouded over and rosy lips parted in heavy moans and pants that drove him wild. Just to see how you would look, Optimus pushed his hips into yours particularly hard, feeling his spike twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back and your lips trembling at the sensation of your upcoming orgasm.

“Say my name, darling,” Optimus leaned forward and nipped at your shoulder as he adjusted his angle so he could slam the head of his blunt, thick spike into your sweet spot and pick up his pace. Your eyes went wide before you squeezed them shut again and yelled out at the sudden change, a sliver of drool falling from in between your lips. “I want to be all you remember for the rest of the night, so say all of it...!”

“Optimus,” You practically sobbed as the Autobot made love to you like there was no tomorrow in store. The sounds of his metal hips slamming against you and your broken moans echoed in the room and drove him closer and closer to the edge. He was already inside you, but he found that he still wanted to be closer, so he found himself making out with you yet again. “Optimus Prime,” His name fell from your tongue and onto his lips in between your passionate kisses with every thrust of his spike into your wet heat in a way that made him shudder. The arm that was holding him over you shook with the strength of his upcoming overload, the hand that was holding your wrists above your head on your pillows squeezing just tight enough to leave red marks on your skin in the shape of his large digits. 

“That’s it, sweetspark, overload for me, won’t you? I can hear you’re getting close, so why don’t you be a good girl and finish for me? You look so beautiful like this, can’t wait to see you cum around my spike, princess,” Optimus egged you on as he felt your pussy flutter around his spike, quickly bringing him closer and closer to his own climax. Thrusting into your soft, small body was so addicting that he didn’t want it to end, but when you gave a broken moan of his name and tensed so hard that he was sure your fingers digging into his fingers left dents in the metal, he couldn’t help it. You came hard around him, squeezing down to keep his spike deep inside of you in a way that triggered his overload. Optimus Prime gave a soft groan when he finally finished, the electricity in his abdomen and spike exploding and making his entire body go numb as he spilled into you. “Fuck, (y/n)-” Optimus slammed his lips into yours one more time, filling you up with his transfluid and giving you a few more weak thrusts. You kissed back, albeit sloppily due to your current blissed out state. Your tongue lazily intermingled with his. The grip on his shoulders loosened, and you pulled away when you felt him depressurize so he could pull out, close his interace panel, and sit next to where you laid on the side of the bed.

When the afterglow faded and you laid down with your back facing him, Optimus usually laid next to you the best he could considering his size and wrapped an arm around you. However, as he remained sitting up, staring at your back and the (h/c) locks that were splayed out upon your pillow, he found tears of lubricant welling up in his eyes- it had never happened to him before, and though he knew Cybertronians were fully capable of it, crying was primarily an organic behavior. The warm light of the candles in your room bringing out the hues of your (s/c) skin and the scent of your shampoo and soap flooding into his olfactory sensors seemed to bring out all of the emotions at once; fear, relief, love, regret, guilt, and everything else that came with loving you. And, as much as he tried to conceal it, the way his voice cracked when he tried to clear his throat gave it away. 

“Optimus? What’s wrong?” You asked, clearly panicked as you turned to face him.

“Nothing, I just-” Optimus stopped and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to cry in front of you, but he figured it was part of learning to be vulnerable, and he was done hiding himself from you. “I love you a lot.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t leave me,” Optimus pleaded, letting his guard down for the first time in a long time as he moved to sit on his knees on the floor. You sat on the edge of the bed with your feet planted on the floor, just close enough for him to be able to move between your legs and rest his head on one of your thighs. “Don’t ever leave me, (y/n). I’m so scared I’ll mess this up somehow. What if I hurt you? What if there comes a day that you can’t stand to look at me anymore?”

“You just have to trust yourself,” You murmured. 

“I don’t yet,” The Prime admitted as he sat up again and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the middle of your chest. “But I’ll try to learn how to... For you, (y/n).”

“Do it for you, too, Optimus. You deserve to have a good relationship with yourself.”

You looked down at him, the smile on your face laced with your concern and exhaustion. You softly ran a hand over the top of his head in a clear attempt at comforting him. Though Optimus was hopeful for what was to come despite his earlier worries, he felt guilty that you had to deal with him like this; anxious and soft and unsure of himself.

The Autobot let out a gentle sigh and pressed a kiss against your collarbone. You smelled like vanilla, jasmine, and something uniquely you; all mixed with his own scent, evidence of the entanglement of your two bodies that would remain until you showered in the morning. Your arms still lingered around his neck as you stared down at him. 

It was peaceful, and the second you leaned down to peck his forehead with your kiss-bruised lips, Optimus decided that he’d try his hardest to make it work; for you. 

[kim-monsterlings]

Danon - M Hellhound x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; injury (brief, not to reader), mild aggression, mentions of death, soul bonding, fluff, receiving oral, penetrative sex (+ knotting), marking (no biting - tattoo), more fluff to top it off, with the NSFW only at the very end - (if there is anything else anyone would like tagged here that I haven't caught, let me know!)

Wordcount: 3715

Masterlist

 The creature rested at your front door had been your shadow for some time now.

 The raven fur thick at its scruff tinged with a crimson the nearer you came, and though you doubted its domesticity - its claws were far too long for any house pet, not to mention in place of fluffy ears were ram horns, wide and curled back to its neck - you still felt sympathy for the creature, wounded as it was.

 You first saw it nearly a month ago, trailing at your shadow when the evening fell into night. If the creature had wanted to have you then, it would have. The flash of fanged teeth hadn't been so unusual, until the muzzle almost tore back, sinew and tendons sewing flesh together, up to it skull. Then you'd known it wasn't quite a dog, nor some odd breeding anomaly, and had fought to ignore the memory.

 Until the creature was at your backdoor come dawn when you went to the river for water and herbs for medicine. You were no healer, not properly, but your parents had passed down knowledge you cherished and made use of. Poultices ready-made waited for collection, all the while your stalker sat by the tree line, waiting; you weren't sure what for.

 To see it so defeated when it was usually full of life tugged you down to your knees. The first time you had confronted it - in a rage of foolishness, really, considering how lucky you had been to avoid any harm at its infliction, the creature had staggered back almost in shock at having stones thrown, before letting loose a growl so low your muscles locked, and you thought then you had incited your own death, as its muzzle nudged up at your fist, the creature large enough to come to your hips like a pony.

 The memory was nothing now. You whispered, hoping to soothe the dog-like demon when you brushed its fur. It gave a low whine, and tail thin like a whip with an arrowed tip tucked neater to its belly. Whatever it was, was decisively male, but your focus was more on the scratches curled deep into its stomach, and the wound on its throat must have been from another creature of the same kind.

 "Hey, boy," you said and offered your hand for him to sniff. The notion struck you as pointless; obviously he recognised you, laying at your door after following for so long, but the press of a hot nose was more reassurance to you than anything. "Stay still. You'll be okay, boy."

 The idea of letting him inside was daunting, but you couldn't just leave him there to die. No matter why he followed you, he had come to you now for help, and you pressed onto his back carefully. When he snarled, you winced through gritted teeth.

 "Come on, boy." You tucked your hands beneath his back enough to encourage him up. Your door was open. All he had to do was collapse inside. "Go on-"

 With a pitiful whine, he fell heavily against your thigh as you led him in. He managed to carry himself to the fireplace before landing with a thud, and though he still breathed, you weren't surprised to find him now unconscious.

 Treating a dog was different from humans but you made do with what you had, and you couldn't do anything more than that. What you noticed, even as you tried not to, was the thick stench of something foul and smoky on washing away blood, and something about it twisted at you. Like it was unnatural. There wasn't anything natural to a dog of his size, with horns and a tail like that, nor a muzzle so wide and sharp, but you had already invited him in and tended to his wounds, so you moved on.

 You left a bowl of water and some old meat at his side but when you retreated to your room, sharp canines snatched your wrist. His eyes flicked up to you, a bright, burning red against his ashen body. When you conceded and sat at his side, a soft whimper enticed your fingers to his scruff, careful to avoid the horns and shallow wound.

 "You're okay," you hummed, holding still when he inched close enough to lay a heavy head on your thighs. "You'll be okay, boy. You’ll be healthy again, and you won't even try to eat me, will you? No," you whispered, and spoke until his eyes fell shut.

 That night you spent curled uncomfortably back against the sofa, falling in and out of a restless sleep. You woke before dawn to find the beast gone, and in his place was a man. The first, natural instinct that came to you was to scream; his head was nuzzled against your thighs, a hand curled at your hip and clutching loosely, but the familiarity struck you before the screech came.

 His body was the same black of his fur, a rich, almost obsidian, but the giveaway was the tail twined to his bare legs. Even still, his mouth seemed off, a little too wide, and the short nubs at his temples, though dramatically smaller horns, were the same.

 So you yawned, snatching the blanket off the sofa and laying it across his thin body, too. Waking hours later with daylight on your face, you were alone. He had rested you on the sofa with a pillow beneath your head and the blanket up to your neck. It melted away remnants of fear, after being alone with not only some demonic hound, but a strange man, too, more than capable of harming you.

 It was a struggle to continue your day as you normally would, but it was a weekend, so a short trip out was all you needed. You were back before midday but still alone. Alone until well into the evening, almost convinced it had been a fever dream until you had finished changing into comfortable clothes, and the silhouette standing in your kitchen turned, tail wound at his bare ankle.

 "Oh."

 The tail flicked and he watched you with glowing eyes, which darted back from you to the door. "If you would rather I leave-"

 "No. No, stay." His head canted much like it had when he was the creature, and you smiled, offering him a change of clothes you had bought; not so much a change, but something to cover up with. "I'd like the company, and an explanation."

 He apparently had no shame, and you had to admit, he needn't have any. His body was taut, and once more you were drawn to admiring him. The clothes hung off his frame, adding to his general unruliness - his hair particularly, ruffed with thick curls nearly enshrouding the nubby horns.

 The stranger was a foot or so taller than you, stiffening when you reached out towards him. He blinked when you introduced yourself, before whispering, "my name is Danon. It's okay," he said, and tipped his head down.

 They were rough, thick at the base, and Danon's breath caught when you stroked up to the tips. Horns of a devil, yet he stood before you still weakened by wounds visible, though closed over at his throat, at least. No blood stained the white shirt yet, so you instead moved past to make a drink for you each.

 "Start from the beginning, Danon."

 His lips twitched, though the smile didn't last. "I am a hellhound. We guide souls on from their lives here. My life is owed to you."

 You sipped in quiet until it helped calm your thoughts. Sat opposite a hellhound, you needed the strength. "Sounds lonely."

 His voice trembled. "It is."

When Danon chose not to elaborate, you embraced the quiet. He had only sniffed at the tea, but you wouldn't force him to drink it. With his hands so large, clawed, the mug shrunk between them.

He still remained quiet, so you watched him carefully and said, "you followed me for a month."

 "It was meant to be you."

 Danon's lips pulled back like he was snarling down at his mug, but the action somehow only made a smile grow on your face. He snapped his head up, slamming the mug down hard enough the handle shattered free.

 "It was your life I was sent for. Not the elder man. You. Say something," he bit out, a snarl coming audibly now when you just looked at him, heart-pounding but face unchanging. "Is that it? You don't care about your own life? I could snatch it from you now, leave you there breathless until-" he bit his cheek sharp as his tail swung out in short whips. "I chose to give you time."

 The only sound you could make was a breathless, "why?"

 "I watched you long before revealing myself."

 "Oh, don't tell me," you cut in, rolling your eyes. "You fell in love with me? Is that it?"

 "Yes."

 "Very funny," you snapped, and Danon's throat bobbed. Like you had done, he said nothing, and you began to grip your mug tighter. "Tell me you're lying. You killed someone because you love me?"

 "His time had come. I sent him in place of your soul. The world cannot lose you. The way you care for these people… not one other soul is so caring. You deserve to live."

 "But he didn't?"

 Danon's long tipped ears twitched, almost pinning back once your voice sharpened. He thumbed the crack in the mug with his claw and grunted, "we can claim a soul. I fought for yours and until I choose to let you pass," he glanced up, finding your face ashen. "You will live. The elder was sickly. Longer for him would be a cruelty. His soul was so far gone I couldn't resist guiding him. It's like… like an itch."

 Questions sprouted endlessly the more he spoke, and you fully intended to return to the matter of him claiming your soul, but he hunched over, and you wondered if it took a toll on him, being the one to cart people from this life. Better to have a guide than not, but your mind drifted to the man whose passing you'd heard of nearby; very old, very sick, and in a way, it was an easing of pain.

 "Don't I itch?"

 His warm laughter came as a surprise. Danon's tail swayed gently. "No. You're like a beacon to me. I need to scratch the itch, but your soul is where I return to. When you healed me, you accepted my claim. For simplicity," he murmured, canting his head a little to hold your eyes. "We are bound, 'til death do us part. It is late."

 Like that, Danon dismissed the questions burning in your mind. He rose, his form slender and lean, before rounding the table towards you. His claws pressed beneath your chin and he fell low, so close his breath brushed your face. The warmth in your stomach tightened your chest. If Danon lowered himself a little more, you would lean into his kiss without pause.

 "I will never apologise for choosing you."

 Sleep evaded you for a long time. Knowing that a creature of hell was resting in the lounge gave you plenty to torment over, and like he knew, the soft padding of paws entered your room. The beast huffed a heavy breath against your hand before curling at the foot of your bed, a weight that left you curled into yourself. His presence was a comfort, even as you struggled to stop thinking of him.

 He loved you. He loved you, and he had bound your souls together.

 Sometime in the night as your thoughts became heavier, the bed dipped. The creature rose, a yawn baring sharp teeth in a display that had frightened you nights ago, before whining quietly. He nudged at your arm until you let him lay close, nosing at your throat and whining again until you were able to rest.

 Danon wasn't by your side when you woke. There wasn't a trace of him left. The shattered mug had been cleared away, the smoky scent that followed him was gone, and the comfort with it. You almost thought it had been a dream, a delirious lie after being alone too long, and forced yourself to go about your day as you would normally. If Danon came home, it would be of his own choice.

 He staggered into your room three nights gone and collapsed to his knees in reaching out to you. It was the thick of night, so you woke with a cry at somebody waking you. Danon caught your face in clammy palms and hushed you. It was without a word that you kicked back the sheets for him, and he crawled beside you - bare, but so exhausted you couldn't find it in you to care as he clutched you tight with a rough sigh.

 It wasn't the time for questions, but you leaned back as far as you could with his arms snaked against you, brushing your hand against his burning cheek. "I missed you."

 His glowing eyes blinked down at you. "You missed me?"

 You hummed and leaned into his chest. "Did you have an itch?"

 His chest rose beneath you but it was answer enough. Danon's kiss was tentative, pressed to your temple like a breath, fleeting when he laid his cheek to your crown. "I missed you, too."

 "Tell me what it means to have my soul claimed."

"Come morning, you may ask me anything."

 "Will you be here?"

 The hellhound paused a breath. "I'm never far," he said, but it was answer enough as you woke entwined, cheek to his shoulder and with a tail draped over your hips.

 For a creature of hell, sunlight blessed him. The sharp angles of his face looked softer in the golden hue, and you were free to admire him until he grumbled and peeked open an eye at you. Danon's brows dipped when he found you already awake, but you were quick to catch his arm before he could lean away.

 "I fought for the right to your soul," he murmured, thick with sleep and slightly slurred. "It is mine. Nothing can take you without me releasing you."

 "Don't I own my own soul?"

 "It is mine," he said against the pillows, grumbling and turning away. Though as he fought to muffle himself, his arm around you tightened. "Pretty soul, too."

 "Am I immortal?" Danon breathed a laugh. His tail flicked down your legs and he shook his head. "Are you?"

 "If I wish to pass on, I may."

 The words were rough and muffled now he had found a spot on the pillow to hide from the light, but you spoke still. If he was in your bed, he would answer your questions. "Will you pass on when I do?"

 He hummed, "I might." You frowned, and he let out a rumble of a growl, turning fully from the pillow. Danon rose over you until you were laid back beneath him. "It is dependent on you."

 "Me?" You blanched, "why me?"

 "How attached I am. I never," he growled, and would have lurched back if not for your touch brushing his arm. "I never intended to claim someone. Your soul is my burden-"

 "I'm a burden?"

 Danon snarled, but you bit back a smile at the gesture. He brought himself close, forehead to yours, and whispered, "I loved you before claiming you. That is my burden alone. May I?"

 Throat tight, you tried to hold your voice steady when you asked, "may you?"

 "May I sleep?"

 Your breath rushed from you and you forced a nod, laying still as he nestled back into the pillows. Danon's hand skimmed your stomach when you slid free, and his tail snagged at your ankle before unwinding.

  Days passed much like that, and each in his presence weakened you. Confessions came in soft whispers when, to him, they were the only possible answer to yet another of your questions. You asked him if he had a home. He did; loose curls fell against his horns, brushed his dark eyes, and the answer, though he never did anything more than smile at you, echoed in your chest. It was the same reason he came back after a soul needed guiding, and the isolation of what he was struck you when he returned, falling into your arms no matter where he found you.

 The worst came when he was gone nearly a fortnight. Some nights you doubted if he would come back to you, and the memory of him seeing you as beacon became your clutch. You had taken to resting on the small sofa in the days, knowing that if he came back in the light, you would wake.

 His whine was so soft you thought him to be the beast when a warmth brushed your cheek, but arms tucked beneath you and curled you into a bare chest. Danon's lips lingered on your forehead before he laid you on your bed, whispering your name as he began to free you from your dress. The lace parted easily for him, and you brought his hands up to your sleeves when he made to turn, helping him undress you until you were left only in your underwear.

 "Don't stay away so long," you whispered, reaching out to brush back his loose curls. Danon trembled when you ran your thumb against his horns. "What if you didn't come back to me?"

 He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. "That will never happen."

 "This isn't one-sided," you said. Lengthened teeth cut into his lower lip when you slowly parted your legs beneath him, and Danon's hips fell against yours. He let out a breathless moan when your touch pressed to his lips and he let them part, tongue hot against you. "Did you not think I loved you?"

 He whined, and his head fell heavy onto your chest. You gasped when he kissed the soft skin as it fell low, and his hands settled on your hips. "Tell me you do."

 "I might," you said, and he was peppering softer kisses across your breast, hot lips drawing on your nipple until you groaned. "You'll have to do more than that first."

 Danon's lips curled up against your stomach, and relief flooded you when he moved lower. His thumbs stroked small circles into your thighs when he pressed his hot tongue to the fabric clinging to your body, tasting you through it. His teeth caught at the hem and as you lifted your hips, he snatched them off and returned as fast, kissing purple flushes onto your legs before pausing.

 "Tell me now."

 With a small smile, you reached low to hook a finger against his horn, and breathed, "not yet, love."

 He snarled half-heartedly before a long drag of his tongue made you choke. Danon flicked the muscle up until it nudged to your nerves, earning a sharp cry of his name in pleasure. The heat now rushing through you began to pool in your gut, and tightened with the passion he began to lap at you with. The hound growled low, and the shock of it ran in shivers through you.

 Claws curled against your skin and he pressed your legs back to your chest. The same fire you felt throbbing glowed in his eyes, and he almost held your stare for as long as he stretched your tight body around his tongue, if you hadn't shuddered and bucked against him.

 "Danon-" His nose forced hot air against you, nosing up at your clit and you stuttered out a plea, grasping at his hair and grinding your hips up to his face. "I need you. I need you to-Danon-"

 He yelped when you dragged him up, and his body rubbed hard against you. The weight of him slick and nudging to your core made you wriggle, and he palmed your stomach with a small smile, the other hand circling his cock and guiding it up so his head rubbed to your nerves.

 "If we do this, you will wear my mark." He turned to kiss your knee as it came against his shoulder. "Am I what you want?"

 The shine to eyes was so innocent that you nodded, tangling your fingers in his hair again to drag him against you. "I love you."

 Your voice broke on a hoarse cry. Danon laid over you, your legs strained up against him a way that had your body so tight and stuffed when his cock drove deep. His lips, thick and sweetened by your taste, parted on a heady groan with each thrust, each clench of your thighs dragging him deeper.

 At that moment, your souls recognised the other; they must have done, with a feeling of belonging overcoming you as Danon cradled your face, running away a tear of pleasure. He rutted up as he began to gasp and shake, a weight slamming against your centre. He soothed you with a whisper of his love, and grinned at your answering whine before the claw of his thumb flicked your clit. Bolts of pleasure knotted in your core. You cried, seeing white and locking tight in the same second Danon thrust hard, the knot forced into you and sticking.

 You felt him come, thick and hard until he was panting and kissing down your throat. The black swirls of his mark formed across your chest and Danon held you close as his knot swelled all the more.

 "Stay here." He swallowed, nipping at your jaw before meeting your eyes. "Stop travelling," you said quietly, and Danon's fingers running down your hips paused, splaying wide as he looked down at you. Your traced his chest, drawn to the stretch of his skin where a matching mark laid. "Care for this village, the neighbouring ones. You said you only take souls at their time. Guide theirs."

 "Stay with you?" His small smile tugged at your heart. Danon slid his arm lower to lift you up against him, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. "I will try."

I wrote Danon in like one sitting and honestly? He stole my heart. I don't know how it happened but this is the longest thing I've written that wasn't intended to be two parts. Danon is now my baby, and I hope you all loved him too - let me know if you did! Threw in the NSFW as a treat to myself. We love indulgent writing. Thank you for getting this far <3

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 8

Find my masterlist

I’m so sorry this chapter took a while. But! Things are happening. More things will be happening next chapter. I’m actually super excited to get the next chapter out to y’all to see what you think. This one’s pretty fun too. 

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of.

Warnings: Raised voices. Din being Dramatic. 

In which there is confrontation

For several long moments, nobody spoke. Djarin stepped over to you and the kid, his helmet tilting down to look at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Vanth approaching as well, and the helmet abruptly whipped towards him.

“Not a word of this,” Djarin growled, still holding the knife. He didn’t brandish it, but he didn’t need to. 

“Easy, partner,” Vanth said, holding his hands out away from his body. “You two alright?” he asked, very clearly looking at and addressing you.

“I… think so,” you answered slowly. You felt slow. Actually, you felt a little dizzy still. The kid was passed out in your arms, but still breathing. You could feel his heartbeat if you focused on your hands, one of which was braced against his chest to keep him more or less upright.

“Give me the child,” Djarin told you. You looked back at him to find him crouching in front of you, both hands out for the kid. When had he done that? You blinked, and then relinquished the child over to the wizard instead. Djarin tucked the kid comfortably against his chest, the helmet dipping briefly to, you guessed, do his own visual inspection. 

“C’mon,” Vanth murmured. Now he was next to you too, gaze concerned as he looked you over. “Let’s get you on your feet, hm?”

“Oh. Alright.” You took his proffered hand and started to your feet. He ended up bracing his other hand under your elbow when you swayed, unsteady.

“Right,” Vanth muttered. “Uh. Right over here, now.” He steered you over to a boulder of a convenient size and then let you sit on that instead. “Well, I don’t think you’ll make it back to town right now.”

“I just need a moment,” you told him, despite the fact that seeing straight was currently optional. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ma’am--” Vanth started, brows furrowing in concern.

“You said the crystals are near here?” Djarin interrupted. 

Vanth looked over at him slowly, clearly debating something. Then he sighed. “Yeah, maybe half hour’s walk.”

“Show me.” That was clearly an order.

“But--” Vanth started to protest, looking at you again. 

“She’s safe enough here for a few minutes,” Djarin interrupted. “Just show me which direction and give me a landmark.” 

Vanth huffed out a breath but nodded, jerking his head. The two of them walked away from you, and you closed your eyes and focused on breathing. The sun was warm, almost uncomfortably so, against your skin. Your skirt was still damp where you’d sat in the mud. You could smell the creature the longer it sat in the sun, a musky kind of animal smell. Your nose wrinkled without your permission. 

“Have some water.”

You jumped and opened your eyes to glower at Vanth, who, to his credit, did look apologetic. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he murmured, holding out a canteen. He shook it a little, letting you hear the slosh of liquid inside. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking the canteen. You took careful sips. You’d read somewhere, once, that you should sip water rather than guzzling it. You were pretty sure that had been about traveling, or deserts, or something. 

“Feelin’ better?” Vanth asked, leaning one hip against the boulder you were still seated on.

“Yes, thank you.” You handed the canteen back. “Djarin went to get the crystals?”

A muscle in Vanth’s jaw ticked but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You nodded. Well. You weren't entirely surprised by that. Djarin had certainly seemed upset, and you could even understand why. You'd put the child in danger, albeit unwittingly. And things had turned out fine. 

Still. If you were in his boots, you'd be upset, too. 

"I'm alright to walk back," you told Vanth, creaking back to your feet. 

For a moment, you thought Vanth would argue. Then he sighed. "Alright, then," he agreed. He offered you a hand up again, and tucked your hand against his arm as soon as you were up. "Y'tell me when you need to take a break."

Your lips twitched. "I will." 

The walk back to town was longer than the walk out had been. About half-way back, Vanth informed you that the wizard would meet you at Vanth's house, and from there you'd go back to the moving castle. 

As good a plan as any, you supposed, although you were a little apprehensive of the tongue lashing you'd no doubt have to endure later.

Amazingly, you and Vanth beat Djarin back to town. As you passed by the garden, Vanth paused, frowning. You peered around him at the plants. Nope. Still just plants. Huh. Without a word, he kept walking, steering you inside and straight to a seat. Then he made sure you drank more water, fussing until he was satisfied. You eyed him with amusement - he reminded you a little of Omera, actually. 

"I'm alright," you assured him. "Thank you for your help." 

Vanth nodded and finally sat down as well, stretching long legs out in front of him. "Has anything like that ever happened before?" He asked carefully. 

"Not that I've seen," you answered. "But that's hardly surprising. Surely all sorts of things happen around wizards all the time."

Vanth gave you a startled look but was prevented from saying anything further by three sharp raps on the door. He huffed but stood, opening the door. 

"Ready?" Djarin asked, looking past Vanth to you. 

"Yes." You stood, a little surprised at how brusque the wizard was being. "Thank you," you told Vanth again, pressing a gentle hand to his arm. 

The walk back to the moving castle was silent and strained. Djarin carried the child the entire way, and he had a bag slung over his shoulder that you hadn't seen before. You couldn't see anything under the flap, but every so often when the bag bumped his hip particularly hard it would chink gently. 

You didn't try to talk to him this time. He still seemed to be in a bit of a mood, so you decided to wait him out.

It always worked with Cara, anyway. 

"Took you long enough," Peli scolded as soon as Djarin opened the door. "Hey, what happened?" 

Djarin didn't answer her, instead ascending the stairs, taking the kid and the bag with him. You sighed and sank into the chair in front of the fireplace. You were now officially worn out. 

"What happened?" Peli demanded, leaping up higher to be able to look down at you. 

"Djarin killed the creature," you told her wearily. "The child… did something. He helped, somehow. I'm not sure how to explain it." 

"Tell me everything." Peli settled into her logs again, flickering with impatience until you started talking. And you told her everything - finding the trampled garden, following Vanth and Djarin out into the desert, how the child had seemingly levitated the creature long enough for Djarin to kill it. 

By the end of your tale, Peli's eyes were wide. "Wow. And the kid's been asleep since?"

"Yes." You leaned back into the chair with a sigh. 

"Huh. Never knew the kid could do that." 

"What?" It was your turn to be flabbergasted. 

"Yeah. It's not like Djarin tells me anything." Peli huffed, sending sparks flying up the chimney. 

"I thought it was a fluke."

You and Peli both jumped at Djarin's voice. (Watching a fire jump was both highly entertaining and deeply unsettling.) 

"So you have seen the kid do this before!" Peli crowed, while your heart was still attempting to beat out of your chest. 

“Something like that. Once.” Djarin stood next to you, helmet tipped down to stare straight at you. “Why did you follow us?” His voice was a low rasp, and you could just hear anger simmering there.

“You’d been gone too long,” you told him with a shrug. “And the kid knew something was wrong. He wanted to get to you.”

That made Djarin pause. Then he shook his head. “And you let a child decide this?”

“He wasn’t wrong,” you pointed out, your own temper sparking now. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” 

“You were supposed to stay where it was safe.”

You snorted at that. “And if we had, who knows what would have happened to you.”

“You could have been killed,” Djarin growled, looming over you.

You found yourself on your feet, poking one finger into his armor. (Ow, that hurt.) “I wouldn’t let the kid get hurt,” you growled right back at him with a ferocity that served you well when you’d gotten into spats with your sisters. “It was not my finest moment, following you, but it worked out well in the end.”

Djarin stood there silently for several long moments, helmet still tipped down at you. Then he growled something (it sounded like a swear from the tone but it was no swear you’d ever heard before), turned, and strode away from you. He switched the knob to the black side, slipped out the door, and slammed it shut behind him. The knob turned back to green.

--

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[angsty-prompt-hole]

Number 4 and number 10 for the ask game!

4. Who's your favourite OC? Why? Do you think you would get along with this OC if you met them in real life?

Oooo this one’s hard. I have a couple of favorites, but I think right now I’d have to go with Haven. Her story is basically that when she was younger, she got caught up in a whole conspiracy involving her father who had disappeared and an eldritch entity, ended up losing her hand and becoming immortal, and then became sort of an interdimensional vigilante who tracks down people who worship that eldritch entity and commits extreme violence against them. She’s just a lot of fun to do stuff with and I really enjoy writing stuff with her. Haven would probably not like me very much lmaooo. She does not like being challenged and I tend to butt heads with people like that.

10. Ramble about an OC! Say whatever you want about them and go on as long as you like ♡

Hi hello yes I shall ramble about someone related to Haven’s story because this OC has been all I could think about for weeks. His name is Liam Prescott, and he’s sort of based on Dewey Riley from the Scream movies. He’s from a version of earth that is infested with eldritch creatures. His sister and her friends got caught up in a serial killing spree committed by two dudes. His sister was murdered, and he was nearly killed, but he and three of his sister’s friends survived. The killers escaped.

Liam got super drunk one night and went out searching for the devil to make a deal to get back at the killers. He did not find the devil, but he found a deal-making sort of eldritch person by the name of Kiz who pointed him in the direction of a cult that worships this evil deer entity. They gave him the power to track down and kill the serial killers, who he found out were actually eldritch monstrosities themselves. One of the other survivors followed him and witnessed the brutal murder, which fractured his relationship with them.

After that, he sort of became a shut-in and never left his apartment. Unfortunately for him, he lived in the same apartment building as this woman who is basically the peacekeeper between eldritch entities, who also happened to be close friends with Haven. Haven was visiting her one night and sensed the lingering eldritch energy from Liam, marched to his room, broke in, and threatened to murder him. 

After the misunderstanding was cleared up and Haven learned Liam’s whole backstory, they started hanging out more because of their mutual friend, the peacekeeper. Haven was very, very aggressive and confrontational towards him at first because he was completely unphased by her acting unhinged or any of her physical oddities like her missing/replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic hand. 

Over time though, Haven settled down a little bit and began to open up to Liam. The two had been through somewhat similar experiences and it really helped both of them to have someone who understood their trauma. Liam’s kind of a dingus though and Haven is so out of touch with her own emotions she never knows what she’s feeling unless it’s rage, so these two took forever to realize they actually really liked each other. 

Liam’s dorky ass upon realizing this decided he was going to panic, and he could not look Haven in the eye for like a week until he was done having a crisis and decided to ask her out. Poor Liam had no idea their first date would end with them having to fight a monster and him learning that Haven can still die, she just resurrects immediately, which was very traumatic for the poor guy. 

Anyways Liam is a dork and likes to buy presents and stuff for people he likes, and he always tries to get people to talk about their interests, only to make a fool of himself because he knows nothing about whatever the person is talking about. He also sometimes overthinks things and ends up really stressed for absolutely no reason. 

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state. 

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up. 

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it. 

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick. 

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place. 

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media. 

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised. 

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them. 

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

All the Belles and Whistles

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Rating: T Chapters: 1/?

Summary: Eloise wants—no, needs—more from her life. Certain that only Lady Whistledown can truly understand, she follows her from the printing press after disrupting the queen's trap.

Watching the man halt in the alley next to the press, Eloise felt a surge of true accomplishment. She had stopped him, and not just him—the queen! She had dashed the plans of the queen, operating as decisively and effectively as none but Lady Whistledown herself! Her brothers may ride smartly and her elder sister practice piano with all the naturalness of one whose own pale skin has been shaped from the same ivory as the keys while Eloise was put down as a diary-scribbler and promptly dismissed, but this was a tangible triumph.

Only… she could not share it.

For a moment, Eloise stood on the cobblestones, staring as the man she had foiled caught his breath and trudged away with an unkind glare in her direction. The rattle of Lady Whistledown’s carriage was fading. Eloise spun to her driver.

“We must follow her,” she insisted, scampering up into the carriage without assistance.

“Miss… I should return you to the ball.”

He hesitated and she found she had no patience for his qualms. Disobedience, disloyalty… what were these concerns to her? Everyone must choose a side—preferably their own side, she was finding—and as he was already here, he must choose hers.

“My business is not concluded,” Eloise informed him firmly. “I need you to catch up with that carriage. It is of the utmost importance.”

She snapped the door shut and sat inside her plush cave, twisting her fingers in their satin gloves. Had it been enough? Would he believe in her authority and execute her wishes? Oh, to be her sister in this moment! Daphne did not fumble, even in inexperience. Her little missteps only made her a more charming duchess. She could likely command something so simple as a carriage with a mere smile. Ought Eloise to have smiled?

A sudden jolt set the carriage in motion and she thrilled to feel the turn it took down the alleyway, not back in the direction of the Hastings Ball. Yes. She was a woman of force and ability! A Bridgerton! She would either dramatically overtake the other carriage before revealing herself to Madame Delacroix as a familiar ally or trail her to her apartment next to the Modiste and rap at her door as the scandal sheet writer’s heart was still calming from her near capture. All would end in the pair of them regaling each other with the same adventurous tale from two different perspectives and offering a giddy stream of congratulations over what could surely be looked upon as their shared success.

Lady Whistledown would understand her. She was, perhaps, the only woman in the ton who could. She would not diminish the value of the swift action Eloise had taken or instruct her to return to the ball. She would not treat Eloise like a child. Imagine—her mother felt that she was sufficiently grown up to debut next season, but could not possibly fathom the other feats her daughter might be capable of. Eloise grinned to herself in secret pride, remembering a moment later to hold her shoulders back so as not to crumple her body or gown. She could bear anything if Lady Whistledown knew her worth and did not cause her to feel undercut or belittled, as she occasionally did in the company of her family and frequently did while stammering through her updates to Queen Charlotte. Was a prospective apprenticeship too much to hope for? Oh, it could not be acknowledged anywhere but between Eloise and Madame Delacroix, but to hone the power of her own pen under the tutelage of one with such a measure of impact on society, that would truly be a thrill.

As the carriage rolled briskly along, she pictured pages flowing with effortless writing. She would sharpen her skills for observation and concision. She would paint a picture so simultaneously lifelike and astonishing that it would shock her readers into action. What kind of action, exactly, Eloise did not know, but that was not a concern for this moment. When the time came, she would know what to say and, at that point, be amply equipped to say it.

Along a dark stretch of road, Eloise caught her reflection in the window; the jewels and band decorating her hair glimmered. What an elegant stranger. The version of herself she saw was not the self she knew. Neither, however, was a young woman who had altered her life and the lives of any future person who may appear in the continued editions of Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers by shielding that bold lady from royal censorship. Self-congratulations overwhelmed her once more. Only the sight of her own home approaching could cool Eloise’s pleasure.

Damn it all to hell. The wretched driver was neither pursuing Madame Delacroix nor depositing Eloise back with her mother. He had taken her home, where she would be forced to stew and await judgement until he returned at an unguessable time, conveying the rest of her family. Well, she would not take this lightly. Nor quietly! She would take her only recourse and bully the man that he might display a touch more fidelity the next time. She was determined that there would still be a next time. After tonight’s events, her spirit would not be quelled, her ambitions not squeezed and folded and packed into a box like the impractical cloud of a new gown from the Modiste.

Just as Eloise sank back into her seat with a huff, arms crossed tightly in her sulk, she was forced forward again by the carriage drawing to a stop on the wrong side of the road. So, he meant to punish her by obliging her to walk across the street in the dark. A small pettiness and all the meaner for its triviality.

She felt the tilt of the carriage that signified the driver’s dismount and turned her head away from the door at the handle’s click. He would see her displeasure, never mind that it might encompass unfortunate similarities to the bad behaviour of her youngest siblings.

“Miss, do you not wish to follow her?”

Eloise snapped her head around, meeting the driver’s inquiring expression with one of bafflement.

“Follow her? Follow who?”

“The object of your… chase. She disembarked only as we drew up.”

Not a betrayal! Miraculous! She nodded to him with an appreciative jerk of her head and he stepped quickly back as she sprung to the ground.

Drawing her fluttering wrapper about her, Eloise marched on the Featherington house. Her step hiccupped with a sudden misgiving; whyever would Madame Delacroix flee here? What circumstance had made this residence a safe haven for her? Last Eloise had heard from Pen, the Featheringtons and their preferred dressmaker were rather at odds over new dresses or delayed payment or some other silly misunderstanding. True, she had seen the ladies of this house clad in freshly-made gowns only this evening, but whatever quarrel had preceded their fabrication could not have been so hastily and thoroughly resolved as to make the Modiste’s mistress a great favourite with the defensive Baroness Featherington.

What if… what if the figure who had vanished inside were not Lady Whistledown? What if they had somehow dogged the wrong carriage? No, Eloise decided. Impossible. Dumping her at home for a reprimanding by her mother was one thing, but making a fool of her by tricking her into mistakenly confronting Baroness Featherington would cost the Bridgertons’ driver his employment. He would not dare. She darted a look behind her to see him gathering the reins, dutiful enough not to trot off and leave her until she had entered one house or the other. Well. She must not allow her courage to flag within view of an audience.

Something about the carriage that had conveyed Lady Whistledown struck Eloise, niggling her brain, but that brain was too full to properly examine the thought, allowing it to stray beyond imminent recovery. She was excitable, gathering her skirt out of the way of her feet as she flew to the Featheringtons’ front door. Knocking would only disturb the household servants further, and perhaps Madame Delacroix had not alerted them at all. Eloise would likewise slip inside, as though to attend some sort of meeting in shadows, the kind of thing she had pictured her brothers doing when she was a child, failing to understand that the activities of their ‘club’ comprised nothing more than boorish talk and overenthusiastic imbibing. Men were dull creatures, she ruled, pushing inside and catching her gaze on the swirl of a blue cloak as its wearer turned at the intrusion. Whereas women were…

Lady Whistledown lowered her hood and Eloise’s fine new shoes skidded to a stop.

[prolestariwrites]

The Wish [8]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC Rating: General Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

Now Posted: Chapter 8, in which Dante has to face the most intimidating creature of all... his wife.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter 8: Dante Sparda, Legendary Demon Hunter

Dante pulls up outside of Vergil’s house and turns off the car. They sit in silence for a long moment before he says, “Thanks again for what you did back there.”

“You’re welcome.”

His brother’s voice shakes a bit, but it seems like he’s holding onto control, even if it’s barely. Which is something at least. “It’s funny,” Dante jokes, “you’ve used Summoned Swords on me half a dozen times at least, and this might be the first time you used it to save me.”

“Summoned Swords,” Vergil murmurs. “Is that what that’s called?”

“It’s what you called it in my world. Although it’s a bit different there.”

Vergil nods, and silence settles again. Dante scratches his chin as he searches for what to say. “You know, Nero can do it too. Surprised the hell out of me the first time I saw it.”

“Nero.” Vergil turns his face to the window. “I should get inside.”

“Yeah. But, Verge…” Dante sighs as Vergil looks back at him. It is obvious his brother needs him now: he needs comfort, reassurance, something to help him process everything and come to terms with the truth. He needs wisdom. He needs tact and compassion.

Damn it all. “I’ll pick you up in the morning,” Dante says. “Then we’ll look for dad.”

“Yeah.”

Vergil reaches for the car door and Dante blurts out, “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll find him. And if any demons show up, you can use Yamato. You’re a better fighter than I am, so you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not a swordsman, Dante,” he grumbles. “I haven’t fought with anyone since we were children.”

“But you can. And Mary can too. She’s a way more successful demon hunter than I am.” Vergil frowns at him, but Dante continues, encouraged, “She kicked both our asses. She’s always got some demon on the run, knows how to use dozens of weapons and make her own even. And Nero? He’s got all kinds of crazy power. He was demon hunting before he even knew how.”

“Nero’s just a child.”

“Yeah, here he is, but in my time, he’s older, and I’ve seen him in action. Took down a whole evil god robot once.” Vergil huffs and shakes his head as Dante leans his elbow on the steering wheel. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to worry. You didn’t think you could fight but then you skewered that guy. So trust that they can handle themselves. And your V, Vitale? He’s not… I don’t know him, he’s not from where I’m from, but if he’s anything like you, then he’s got this too.”

Vergil glances at him briefly before nodding. Then he opens the car door and climbs out, and Dante watches as he hurries up the driveway to his front door, still clutching the sword.

Dante heaves a long sigh before starting the car again. On the drive to home, he wonders what he’s going to do about Lir. He’s still not entirely sure she’s not a demon too, so if he comes clean with her, there’s no telling she won’t attack him just like the bar waitress.

His questions are answered when he walks in the front door. “Dante? Dante!” Lir practically runs to greet him from the kitchen. “There you are! What happened? Are you okay?”

Before he can answer she pulls him into a hug, forcing him to bend over so she can press her cheek to his. “Dante,” she murmurs, and he feels a pang of guilt as he returns the hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m okay.” He eases up and pushes her hair back from her face. “Why were you worried?”

“Your mom called all frantic. She said your father ran off and broke a window and in his study… there was…” Lir’s voice trails away as she examines his front, and Dante glances down. There are splatters of blood on his jacket and shirt, and he steps back as she gapes. “She said there was blood on the floor. What happened?”

Her eyes are wide with alarm as they rise to meet his. “Let me get cleaned up and I’ll explain.”

Dante eases past her and heads to the kitchen. Lir follows, hanging back in the doorway as he moves to the sink. He uses the minute to think as he runs his hands under the hot water, taking a few pumps of dish soap to clean the blood away. He shuts off the faucet and grabs a dish towel, drying them as he turns to face her.

He leans against the kitchen counter and swallows thickly. “Mom was upset, huh?”

“Very.” Lir takes a step closer before hesitating. “What happened?”

“We… fought. It’s fine,” he says hurriedly, holding up a palm as she opens her mouth. “My dad’s been keeping secrets and I confronted him. It didn’t go well.”

“Secrets?” she asks. “What kind of secrets?”

Dante folds his arms with a sigh. “He’s not who he says he is. He’s… something else.”

“Something else? What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not human.”

He waits for a long moment to let the news absorb. Lir stares at him with wide eyes, and he notices how her fingers tremble as she reaches out to brace against one of the chairs at the little breakfast table. “He’s not human,” she murmurs.

Dante nods and she tilts her head towards him. “And the blood?”

He glances down at his soiled shirt. “That was my mistake. Dad was lying and I wanted him to tell Vergil the truth. So I stabbed him with a sword.”

“You stabbed him?”

“Yeah. He was fine though. Got right up.” Dante chuckles. “Shoulda seen the look on his face. Serves the old man right. He kept refusing to come clean, and I—”

“Dante.” His mouth snaps shut as she sinks into the chair, looking pale. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t all his blood.” Lir looks up sharply as he spreads his arms. “Vergil and I got a drink afterwards and got attacked by a couple of demons in the bar. Had to kill a waitress and all I had was a chair leg, if you can believe it. Luckily Vergil came through. Wasn’t that bad, he killed the bartender.”

“You killed a waitress?”

Dante winces. “Okay, it sounds really bad when you say it like that. But they were demons, I swear.” He starts to walk towards her, and Lir scrambles up, pressing back against the wall. The fear on her face makes him freeze, and he watches as her eyes start to tear up. “Hey, relax. Really. It’s gonna be fine.”

He takes another step and Lir launches herself across the kitchen, diving for the knife block. She pulls a long bread knife from its slot and spins, holding it out like a magic wand as if to ward him off. “Don’t come any closer!” she shrieks.

“Okay. Obviously I’m telling this story wrong.” Dante holds up his palms. “I’m not gonna hurt you. See?”

“You’re crazy!” she cries. “Demons? Killing?” He rolls his eyes and she shakes her head furiously. “Stay away from me!”

She steps to the side, keeping pressed against the counter, as she fishes her cell phone from her pocket. Dante frowns as she swipes it on. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling the police.”

Her voice has an edge now, and Dante can see she’s a dangerous mixture of frightened and furious. “I’ll just go,” he suggests.

Lir shoots him a look to kill as she raises the phone to her ear. “Hello? Yes? Yes, I need the police, my husband—”

As she speaks, something catches Dante’s attention, like a pinprick on his neck. His head turns just as the ceiling explodes in a shower of drywall, the window shattering as something breaks through. Lir screams and he sees her drop the phone in the corner of his eye, and Dante steps between her and the two demons that now stand towering in their kitchen.

He looks up at the hole in the ceiling and grits his teeth when he sees the sky. “We have a fucking door you know,” he growls.

“Dante!”

Lir’s voice is wild with panic, and he holds out a hand. He curses silently, knowing her being here is going to just make this harder. It’s bad enough to fight a demon when a human is around, but now his instinct to protect her is screaming loud enough in his head to drown out any reason. He’s got to get her safe, and then he can deal with them.

“Lir, I want you to run.”

“What?”

“Get to the front door and run. Now!”

He doesn’t know if she obeys because at that moment they advance. Once again he tries to summon Rebellion, and again he realizes he’s left it in the damn car. Two sets of teeth and four sets of claws come for him with a screech, and then Dante is dodging, throwing one punch after another as he tries to make a plan. One of the demons picks up the toaster and throws it at him, making him duck. It sails over his head and implants into the wall behind him. “What the hell!”

One of the demons grabs his leg, pulling him to the ground. Dante lurches to the counter as he falls and grabs a drawer, yanking it free with one pull. He prays it has something he can use, but inside are dish towels. “Damn it,” he mutters, but he swings the drawer, which breaks with a spray of splinters as it hits one demon full on the face. It falls back and lets his leg go, and Dante scrambles to his feet, pulling open another cabinet.

This one has plates at least, so he grabs the stack and throws them one by one at the other demon. They explode in its face, the porcelain shattering loudly as it falls in pieces to the floor, but they disorient it enough that Dante can deliver a kick that sends it sailing across the kitchen. Before the two demons can recover, he lunges at the knife block, and with a steak knife in each hand, he quickly dispatches them both, slitting their heads open, both collapsing in a pool of dark blood.

Dante catches his breath and drops the two knives in the sink. When he turns, he finds Lir on the ground, her knees drawn up as she gapes at him.

“Lir…” he murmurs with a wince. They stare at each other for a long moment, and he takes in the pieces of drywall stuck in her hair, the way her shoulders shake, the bright flush on her face. But she’s alive, that’s all that matters. The rest of this shit he can explain, and fix, and make up to her.

Just then, there is the sound of someone talking, and they both look down at the phone on the ground. It looks like it takes a half minute for her to remember what it is, but then she jerks it up to her ear. “Hello? Hello, yes I’m here. No, no, everything’s fine.” Her eyes are wide as they take in the mess now that it’s settled, but her voice is steady. “I thought my husband was hurt, but he’s fine. A cabinet fell over in the kitchen, that was all the commotion. I’m so sorry.” She listens for a moment and then says, “Really, it’s not necessary. We’re fine.”

Dante takes a deep breath as she finishes the call, looking out the hole in the wall where the window used to be. He scans the darkness for any more demons, but his senses don’t pick anything else up. Lir says goodbye, and he glances over as she presses a finger to the screen before slowly setting the phone on the ground.

Their gazes connect, and he feels a twist in his chest as he sees tears swimming in her eyes. But then Lir scrambles towards him, and he catches her in a tight hug, her face pressed to his neck. Dante gives a small smile as he holds her closely, rubbing a soothing hand on her back as her breath shakes against his skin.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“So that’s everything.” Dante looks over at the passenger side, where Lir stares straight ahead. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Her eyes fall to where her hands sit in her lap. “So you’re not Dante? My husband?”

“I guess not,” he replies. “I mean, I’m Dante, but I don’t know if I’m him or if he’s me or if…” He rubs his face and glances at the clock on the dashboard which shows it’s nearly midnight. The gas station they had pulled into is deserted, and the light from the shelters over the pumps gives enough light that he can see the pained expression on her face. “Sorry. I keep saying the wrong thing. And uh, I guess I should apologize… for the other night—”

“No, it’s…” She glances over, almost shyly, and Dante’s heart skips a beat. “You’re still him, just not him him. I think.”

“Right.” He chuckles humorlessly with a half smile. “You hungry?”

Lir shakes her head. “Not really. I’m exhausted.”

“Let’s get some rest then.” He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, heading down the nearly empty street. After a few turns he finds a little motel, and Lir luckily doesn’t argue when he parks. She stops to grab the bag she had packed in haste before they fled the house as he heads into the office, emerging a minute later with a room key. “Funny, the guy didn’t blink twice even though I’m a mess,” he jokes.

Dante grabs Rebellion from the trunk, remembering this time, before he leads her to room six.  But he hesitates when he slides the key into the lock. “I guess I should have gotten two rooms?” he murmurs.

“No. I don’t want to be alone.” She presses her hand on his back lightly. “It’s fine.”

He nods as they enter, flicking on the lights as Lir follows inside. There is a Queen-sized bed in the middle, a television, a chair and table, and Lir shrugs off her jacket before opening the bag. She pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, holding them out to him. “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

“Yeah.” Lir doesn’t look up at him as he takes the clothes, and not knowing what else to say, he heads into the bathroom.

His reflection is a mess, his hair sticky strands covered in blood and dirt. His face and neck aren’t much better, and as he strips off his clothes, he thinks about what he must have looked like arriving home like that. “This is why I never got married,” he mutters to himself as he turns on the faucet. “Too much trouble.”

His dialogue continues as he starts the shower and unwraps the little bar of free soap, listing the reasons why a relationship and marriage don’t mix with demon hunting: too much blood. Too much laundry. Too many questions. Weapons. Blood. Death.

He leans his forearm on the tile, watching as red swirls around the drain until the water goes clear. Stupid fucking wish, he thinks. This life he had always wanted? It’s not possible, and he needs to accept that and move on. He had no idea what he was asking for, Dante realizes.

It makes sense, really, he tells himself as he towels off. After all, Lady didn’t have anybody. Neither did Trish. Whoever Nero’s mother was, it couldn’t have lasted long before Vergil was gone, if his brother even knew he had a kid in the first place. Too much liability when you have someone in your life. He remembers Lir’s scream as the demons crashed into their home, the way the fear hit in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. But Nero has managed it, hasn’t he? He has Kyrie, and goes home to her every night, blood and guts and all. Dante frowns, wondering if it’s not meant to last. It would kill the kid to lose her.

Sparda, Vergil, him, now Nero… their whole family, one after another, losing someone close before disappearing too. Like some big cosmic joke.

Lir is curled up on the pillows, the lights off and the television on. She pulls back the covers when he climbs up to join her, and Dante smiles a bit when she repositions herself with her head on his chest and her arms tightly wrapped around him. “This okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Dante snorts. “Nah. It’s a crazy story, I know.”

“I pulled a knife on you.”

“Not the first time someone’s done that.”

Lir stiffens a bit before lifting her head. She looks at him sadly, but he grins. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You didn’t tell me who I am,” she says.

Dante glances away with a shrug. “I don’t know you in my time. We never met.”

“Oh.” She lays her head back down against his shoulder, and Dante settles his hand on her hip. “I’m glad we got to meet here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Dante listens as Lir’s breathing goes steady, her body sinking against him as she falls asleep. He stays awake, watching the light behind the curtain grow darker before slowly turning gray. By the time the sun comes up, his decision is made.

[astarryon]

Promise Me

I Want to Take It With Me

Warnings: Mention of blood, angst, light swearing

Chapter Summary: He’s run out of time, but saying goodbye is the last thing he wants to do.

Masterlist

Chapter Three: In the Name of Dry Shoes

“Spencer—“

“Don’t talk,” Spencer insists with a resolute shake of his head. He’s not sure how he’s still going, not when he’d been met with the sight of his biggest fear no less than thirty seconds ago, but somehow he manages. He’s always been good at pushing emotions down, smothering them until they ran away to be dealt with another time. It’s not healthy — he knows that. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, he doesn’t have a lot of time for self improvement. “You’re losing too much blood, we need to get your heart rate down.”

A chuckle tumbles out of your mouth, stilted and shuddering, along with a smattering of blood, and Spencer’s mind shifts into overdrive trying to deduce what at all could possibly be funny about this situation. “‘S only beating so fast ‘cause you’re getting handsy.”

“Don’t— don’t do that right now,” Spencer snaps, pressing his hands more firmly to the wound in your chest. His hands are so slick with blood that he doesn’t even notice when his own teardrops land on them. “You can— you can be flirtatious and aloof and obnoxiously clueless when you’re not bleeding out on a dirty floor, but until we get you to a hospital where there are— surgeons, and, and anesthesia, and people who can make sure you don’t fucking die, just please concentrate on your breathing.”

Spencer’s mind races a mile a minute, rapidly cycling through the pieces of knowledge he possesses that apply to this situation. He knows that the average adult has ten units of blood in their body, but that won’t help him keep it from slowly leaking out of you. He knows the team can’t be more than five minutes away, but with a gunshot wound to the chest the probability of you surviving until then looks grim. He knows each breath you take becomes more ragged than the last, which makes him wonder if your lung’s been punctured, but he doesn’t want to give that possibility any significant thought. He knows you need a doctor, one with a more practical skillset than his own, and he’s left to come to terms with his own chronic uselessness as he continues applying pressure to your wound. He knows that if he has to listen to you try to make him feel better for what could be your last precious few moments together, he’ll never be able to forgive himself. He knows he won’t survive you dying, here, now, with so much — too fucking much — left unspoken. He knows he’ll never like the color red again.

Spencer knows lots of things. Unfortunately, none of those things are particularly useful in digging the bullet out of your clavicle.

“It’s so cold,” you breathe, head lolling to the side. Your lashes are fluttering at a rapid pace and your breaths are shallow now, more raspy. You’re in much too great a danger of losing consciousness. “It’s… will you hold me?”

He shakes his head, vision blurring as his tears sway along with it. “I’m sorry, I can’t, we have to keep pressure on your wound.”

“Please?”

“No.” He says it so sharply that he almost tricks himself into thinking he’s shouting, but then, anything louder than a whisper would sound like an atomic bomb to him right now. “Just hang on, please. Just a little longer. The rest of the team will be here soon, and then the medics, and—“

“Spencer,” you whisper, voice strained. His name on your tongue splits his heart clean in two. It’s the kind of thing where he can feel every individual rip of the two halves separating right down the middle, and he knows that, whether or not he loses you tonight, that sensation will always be awaiting him in his most dreadful nightmares. “I… If I’m going to die, I want to feel your arms around me one last time before I do. I want to take it with me.”

He shouldn’t. He knows your odds are slim, and he knows they become even slimmer if he takes his hands off your wound — and that’s without mentioning how they’re effected if he moves you even the slightest bit. But you’re scared, and you’re crying, and he’s crying, and he’s always had a particular hatred of denying you what you ask for. And if he’s going to lose you — he hates to give that thought any relevance, but it’s been too long and he’s so good at imagining the worst case — shouldn’t he grant your last wish? Shouldn’t he bend over backwards to soothe your soul as you part?

Shouldn’t he tell you…?

Slowly, carefully, Spencer withdraws his hands from your chest and gingerly scoops you into his arms, keeping you as still as possible as he repositions you so that your head rests against his shoulder, your back against his chest, and does his best to ignore that your skin is much too icy. He listens closely for any gasps or hisses of pain, apologizing softly each and every time your body betrays your discomfort, and he tries to put any and all calculations of how quickly you’ll bleed out now that he’s relieved the pressure on your wound out of his mind. It’s too late to wonder now whether he’s made a mistake in giving in to you, and, anyway… if it’s in pursuit of your happiness, can it really be a mistake?

“There we go,” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head before tucking it beneath his chin. “It’s alright, I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay. Just hold on a little longer, alright? Just keep holding on.”

“Do you think we would’ve been happy together?” The question is soft off your lips, brittle as sun damaged crystal, and it catches Spencer so suddenly off guard that, for a few short seconds that don’t feel short in the slightest, his mind forgets how to comprehend language. “You and me? Would we have been alright?”

“You’re not happy now?” he questions, threading his fingers through your blood stained hair. The words don’t tumble out in a defensive tone, and for that Spencer is glad. Whatever he feels about this situation, about what you’re saying, about experiencing you drain away, right out of his arms, he can feel later, when he’s not gently rocking you back and forth in the hopes that the sensation will bring you even the slightest ounce of comfort. None of it matters, not right now. All he wants is to make sure you’re taken care of.

“I don’t mean now,” you wheeze, your palm coming to rest at his knee. “I’m asking, like… would we have been okay? Later? A y-year from now? Five years from now? Would you have still wanted me?”

“Stop talking like you’re already dead,” he pleads, tears dripping down his chin and into your hair. Where are the others? Where the fuck are the medics? Why isn’t anyone coming? “I haven’t lost you yet, and I’m not planning to, so we don’t need to speak in hypotheticals. Just keep… I am begging you, just keep holding on.”

“I’m tryin’, honey, but it’s… my hands are slipping, and I’m not sure how much longer I’m gonna last.” And he can hear it, too, in the way that your words are slurring and your voice thickens. You’re fading — he can tell. The smart thing now would be to come to terms with the odds and say goodbye, just in case… but, for the first time in his life, Spencer doesn’t want to be smart. Not if it means accepting that you’re leaving him. “Will you promise me something?”

He closes his eyes, bracing against the awful truth, and he can actually feel the resolve slipping out from underneath him. “Anything,” he tells you, fighting off the urge to sob. He needs to stay strong for you right now. “Anything, I swear to god, whatever you want.”

“You don’t believe in god, Spence.”

“Then I swear to you,” he tries again, and he hopes you can hear the fervor, the genuine sincerity in his voice. Because he does believe in you, and he would do anything that you asked of him. “Whatever you want, I swear to you, I’ll do it. Just tell me what it is.”

“If I die—“

“You’re not going to—“

“Spencer,” you insist, and the tone of your voice takes the fight right out of him, renders him immediately silent. You’ve never spoken to him like that before — he’s sure of it. “If I die… promise me you won’t forget to smile, okay?” Your words slur further, your speech slowing, and Spencer has to strain to properly make out what you’re saying. “You have a really nice smile. The world can’t lose that.”

No, what the world can’t lose is you, but he knows trying to argue with you right now is pointless.

“I promise,” he tells you, because it’s all he can say. “I’ll think of you, and I’ll smile every day.”

“Promise me you won’t shut the others out,” you go on, blood now leaking from your mouth in a constant trickle. It’s funny, in an awful way. So many years in the BAU, confronted every day with grisly crime scenes and bloody aftermath, yet he’s never been so effected. Spencer wonders if that’s self absorbed of him. “Talk to Penelope when you need someone to cheer you up, talk to Derek when you need someone to listen, talk to JJ when you have trouble sleeping. Let them in, Spence.”

“I will,” Spencer whispers. “I promise.” His hands are shaking so bad that he can’t actually tell whether that’s his body or yours beneath his touch.

“And… p-promise me…” Your lungs shudder a gasping breath, and Spencer knows you’re only hanging on in effort to get the rest out. He knows he should tell you to rest, tell you it’s okay, let you know that if you need to let go, if you’re too tired to hold on, then he won’t hold it against you. But Spencer’s become a selfish creature in all those matters concerning you, and he’d sworn a long time ago never to lie to you, no matter the circumstances. As much as he wants to be able to be the man willing to sit there and rock you peacefully into oblivion…. he’s just not ready to let go of you. “Promise you’ll remember how much I love you.”

He’d have done that anyway, even without you asking him to. It’s already the first thing that crosses his mind when he wakes up each morning and rolls over to find you at his side, all mussed hair and light snores with the sheets balled up near your feet. He’s reminded every time you kiss him, so soft and sweet, and every time your lips press against his Spencer feels like he’s experiencing it for the very first time all over again. Of course he knows you love him. How could he not, when you find new ways to tell him so each and every day?

“Promise,” you breathe, just as your head lolls to the side and your hand goes slack against his leg. “Promise.”

“I promise,” Spencer whispers, but by the time the words leave his lips, you’re already gone.

—

Chapter Five: Ten Minutes and Two Centimeters

[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 4)

Previous / Next (5)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Ok. I think I need to calm down with the descriptions a bit. They might be a bitt too much for everything. Good thing this is an experiment and a challenge for my damn bratty authors block. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Tag list: @vicmc624​

Word count:  3,305

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name                             

Y/L/N- Your Last Name                  

40s Vocabulary:  

killer diller - the best, amazing

grandstand - show off in a boastful manner

​snap your cap - get angry

flip your wig - lose your temper, lose control

                                   ----------------------------

   The compound was overthrown by silence, such a sweet melody combined with the sound of the nightly creatures, passing by at such heights. One would be surprised at what could even survive up here, at least the city was just a distant presence. The clock hit 12 as you closed the door of the lab behind yourself. After tiding up you decided to brush over some stuff, ending up just doing 3 more hours of work. Steve wouldn’t be happy to find out you did exactly what he expected.

  Your feet tiptoeing snuck around the halls, making sure no one noticed or got woken up by you. No sound came out, not even by your breath. You were expecting to see the glimmer of light from at least 2 rooms, but apparently no one was up. Palm against the metal of the door, it slid open ever so silently as its owner.

“Ah~…” you let out a deep breath, letting your body sink onto the bed- work books and empty laptop bag on the covers under your right hand. Replenishing the oxygen, you took in the smell of the sheets. A mix of fresh, crisp mountains with a hint of floral tones.

       Knock knock

   Your head came up first, allowing the guest access to your room, before pushing half your body up with hands firmly pressed into the bedding. The hissing sound of the door revealed a head pocking from the side, illuminated slightly by the dim lighting coming from inside.

“Am I bothering?” the female voice asked

“Um no, actually I just came from the lab.” You explained, beginning to identify the owner of the rich voice slowly

“Come over to my room then.” blunt and direct, a woman that never beat around the bush. Something you wanted to be able to do as well sometimes

“Nat!” another sweet note flew into your room, rapidly cutting off the residual command “You are supposed to ask her if she wants to come, not demand. She could be tired.”

“Oh come on.” Natasha looked back at the second companion, reading her a lecture in the corridor “She can say no.” with the corner of her eye she was indirectly actuating you in her favor. Agent habits die…well - never.

“ I am a night owl so if you don’t mind I would love to join you.” Still whispering in case someone woke up, you were pulled out from your room by the two women. It felt like a blink of an eye when you found yourself cross-legged on the soft mattress. The situation was not expected and very much tense for you. Soft tapping sounds of rain filled the room, creating a cozy ambiance. Natasha was leaning onto her elbow - body sideways, while Wanda was completely laying onto her stomach- both looking at you.

“Relax.” Natasha tapped your shoulder. It felt almost like magic when your body did exactly that, well maybe it was since Wanda’s hand flashed a bit. I don’t think anyone would complain about the sudden stress relieve. Compared to your pretty empty living quarters this place showed the years spend. The color of the wall was a warm light tone of dark amber. Combined with the wooden style furniture and small knickknacks, it had a warm cabin like feeling - welcoming. You did not regret coming here at all, now that you were situated. And the rain, the light drops just added so much to this, almost like you were on vacation in the woods and star-gazing with your closest friends.

“So, how did it go with Mr. Always Grumpy?” Wanda uttered below you, attention spilling out of her very existence

“Bucky?” you asked strings pulling a nod from both of them “Thought so.” sighing, your elbows dug into the soft cover supporting your upper body “ He just threw a tantrum that ended up with him almost choking me out on the spot and not in the good way. Fixed his arm though. ”you added proud of the last sentence

“Wait, wait.” Natasha swung her hands side to side in front of her face in disbelieve “He let you fix his shoulder? No, no let me rephrase that. James Buchanan Barnes let you touch him? Someone he doesn’t know?”

“How?” Wanda sat up in a split second, making the bed shift a bit from the kinetic energy applied to it

“Simple.” Your pointer finger flung up positioned between your eyebrows, before pointing at the two women “Treat him like a moody antisocial child.” A wide evil smirk tugged from side to side onto your lips “ I just told him that if he doesn’t get it fixed he will be a burden on the next mission. For someone trying to erase his past by doing good deeds and being useful, this was like a jab to his ego.”

“That…” Wanda’s fingers wrapped around her chin, letting her sink in thought “…that makes a lot of sense honestly. I would have never come up with that.”

“Enough about fossil number 2.” Natasha clapped her hands “Since we will be neighbors from now on, let’s go around and do a short introduction happy campers.”

“I will go first.” Wanda rose her hand beginning “Wanda Maximoff here, your teammate living right in front of you.”

“You can just call me Nat, no need for formalities, Captain’s orders.” She joked

“I mean for me just Wanda is ok.”

“I guess the introduction is directed more towards me.” A giggle rung out “ Y/N Y/L/N, studying in Stark University with a very weird past, that I can’t explain to myself either. Your new neighbor and teammate from what I can gather. Pleasure to make -“ too formal you thought to yourself, it was time to let go a bit “Nice to meet yall.”

  You found yourself getting along with the girls much faster than with anyone else in the compound. Maybe it was because you didn’t have an awkward first confrontation with any of them or a choking one.

“By the way.” You lured them back with your voice “Tony said something about me using the gym. What’s all that about? ”

  The two turned to each other questioning for a moment, before deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to know what Tony was mixing in his little pot of mischief – had to get used to it sooner or later.

“He is testing an Avengers new generation program on you.” Nat concluded from their numerous conversations about you prior to your arrival or, as a matter of fact, even your application acceptance “The gym is for well, to make sure you don’t die on missions.”

“Ok, hol’ up hol’ up.” Your eyes squeezed shut when your hands waved air side to side “Not only am I a ‘build an avenger’ type of deal, but I will be going on missions?!”

  Their non verbal agreement pulling a deep and already exhausted sigh out of you. It hadn’t even began and your muscles were in pain. You got yourself in this mess, you kind of wanted it so no backing down now. Your pride wouldn’t let you.

  The rest of the night was filled with jokes, snarky comments about the men in the compound. Natasha had dirt on almost all of them with the occasional help of Wanda. The three troublesome birdies soon fell asleep each in her own corner of the bed, till later in the night when you huddled up. The window in Natasha’s room was the main culprit causing you to ball one next to the other.

  Light slowly creeping into the common room and welcoming the men stumbling early for a cup of coffee - drowsy and very much looking like bird nests. Tony dressed in his fancy pjs was quick in his preparations, while Sam and Steve were still waiting next to the bubbling machine, on each side of it. Arms crossed, pressed against firm muscles and fighting the sleep.

“Morning early birds.” Tony teased Sam when Bucky’s heavy steps passed behind the playboy. He looked the most awake and ready for a mission out of everyone. Steve pulled out a couple of mugs and poor the hot dark liquid, passing 2 out to his buddies.

  Peace covered them like a comfort veil, sips frequently reminding that time was indeed still flowing and not paused. Boredom began crawling up their spines, when Bruce’s emerging presents lit them up. The need for some vibrancy was soaking into the air.

“What is up with the serious atmosphere?” he asked grabbing one of the cups resting on the bar.

“Something is missing here.” Sam pushed his lips to the side speaking of things everyone noticed “It’s...too quiet.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Tony released his grip on the mug, resting it on the table

Yes Sir?

“Where are the rest of us?”

If you are speaking of Miss Maximoff, Miss Romanoff and Miss Y/L/N they are still in bed.

“I know I buy the best beds, but this is a bit too much.” Tony got up and walked over to Wanda’s room, knocking on the door. He waited for an answer, but none was given. His head pocked in just for his eyes to be met with emptiness.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. where are they?” Tony stomped over to your room, which was in the same condition maybe a bit emptier since you were a new arrival

In Miss Romanoff’s room Sir.

“All of them?” Steve pushed his hips off the counter, tall figure stalking after Tony.

Yes Sir.

  The door slid open and Steve almost choked out a loud laugh at the sight. The three of you were cuddled up like stray cats trying to keep warm during the cold winter days, waiting for an owner to come and pick you up. Hands pushing his lips closed, Steve snuck in closing the open window. As simple as the action was it released a calming moan from one of you, the space already getting warmer.

“I don’t have the heart to wake them up.” Bruce announced with a cheerful whisper 

“Yeah, keep them like that.” Sam pulled out his phone and started taking pictures

“What are you doing?” Bucky’s body leaning onto the doorframe, the newest member to this room-visit

“What does it look like tin can arm?” clicking sounds bouncing off the wall “Getting some dirt on Nat. The amount of blackmail material she has on me is too much.”

“Ok, you had your fun bird brain.” Bucky grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled the phone way from your resting figures, specifically you.

“Calm down you two.” Steve tried to pull them away and out of the small space

“What got your panties twisted?” Sam’s body stood up confidant, clenching the muscles being wrapped by the cold vibranium plates “The Winter Soldier look is showing on that smug face of yours.” The dark glistening skin pushed closer to Bucky as he was almost picking a fight “ Shit, if I didn’t know better I would say someone was whispering them trigger words of yours.” 

  Sam finally had something to use for revenge, but this whole righteous behavior of Bucky was spoiling his fun. The rest of the guys felt the pressure accumulating around the menacing men “Zhelaniye and Semnadtsat something like that right? Oh wait that is right~...Wakanda whipped your ass clean.” The awful Russian accent awoke Natasha, but feeling the heavy air she decided to wait her time to get those pictures back. Sly one.

 The words were loud enough for everyone to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“Rzhaviy or some shit li-“ the word crept inside your ear together with the sentence beforehand. Your left hand decided that the position it was in wasn’t comfortable anymore, swinging your left foot in the opposite direction. Hands pushing off the bed with a rough creek, let your left knee hook onto Sam’s neck – body hanging like a chain in front of him. Your fingers didn’t waste time to snake around his own calves pulling them up.

“Wha-!” Sam gasped when the heels of your feet pushed his shoulders back – head hitting the soft carpet with a loud thud and grunt. There was no time to take a breath for the poor man before your arms locked the air in his throat.

  Natasha grabbed the phone quickly and deleted whatever she could find about herself, while everyone else sat stunned.

“I give- I give- up!” Sam tried squeezing the words out of his mind as he began tapping the floor and your elbow.

“I got the pics Y/N.”Nat waved the phone at you, but your hands began to tighten around his neck. Sam was starting to turn colors his skin wasn’t supposed to have.

“Y/N!” Bucky growled out loud and commanding, shacking up the whole room. It felt like a bubble popped from in front of you, body jolting at the voice.

“Ha?” your lips fell open as your body relaxed, letting Sam finally suck in so much ai,r the covers on Natsha’s bed almost went inside his mouth. Your jaw closed just so your throat could swallow a bit of spit seeing as it was feeling dry, before it opened back up. Sam’s body heat pulled your gaze down to him when you started to register the situation.

“Oh God!” you pulled away from him, apologies spilling out of you, too many in a second “I was sleepwalking again!”

  Dumbfound, that was exactly the expression on everyone’s face hearing you say that. You were used to your nightly habits, even your family found it natural at this point.

“Usually when I have nightmares I either mumble or sleepwalk.” Trying to explain yourself didn’t change what everyone was feeling.

“OW!” Steve screeched out upon feeling Tony’s fingers pinch his arm

“I am not dreaming am I? You all saw that too.” He felt Cap swat his hand away sending a warm wave of pain through his limb

“Test it on yourself next time!” he hissed

“I call that sleep fighting not walking.” Bruce pitched in feeling left out “You are trying to tell us you are…used to this?” your head nodded, roughed up hair flying back and forth

“My mom calls them night terrors. Tried to get help for it, but I guess the only one who could help me was my uncle. One of the reasons why I spend so much time with him.” You grinned trying to get out of this mess as fast as possible with less casualties

“I am stopping this now.”Tony threw his hands in the air “I am not awake enough to deal with all this...and that tiny assassin.” You followed him hastily to the kitchen whipping yourself a cup of tea and flying over to one of the seats. The rest of the Avengers followed your stumbling figure out of the room – slow steps, a mix of amazement and confusion, pain for some. Sam sat on the couch pretty far from you, keeping quiet. Your eyes scanned the room waiting for someone to say something or to cut the thick atmosphere with a butter knife.

“Can I take Y/N over from Nat?” Steve was the hero in this moment . Tony waved his hand, swallowing his almost cold coffee

“Do what you want, I am not capable of decisions right now.” The screeching floor yelped under the chair’s feet. Sam followed Bucky out the room, after Tony announced his departure. 

“Come with me kid.” Steve’s heavy yet warm hand fond your tense shoulder muscles. Your body jumped and followed the man like a small chick behind its mother. You ran to your room taking a quick shower, a dash of deodorant and putting on workout clothes. Washing yourself before sweating made no sense, but the warmth tended to relax you. Taking into consideration the amount of stress you were feeling for awhile now – it felt good.

  The gym was maybe 3 levels before the floor you lived on, information revealed to you in the not so comfortable awkward ride with the elevator. The doors slid open unveiling a whole new world. Stylish…there is nothing you could say at this point but Tony owned it, it talked for itself. Steve told you to leave the duffle bag onto a bench and come to the equipment. 

“Have you used any of these?” he pointed at the machines and you shook your head. You knew about them from youtube videos and maybe 1 or 2 gym visits, but saying up right being able to use them properly was questionable. “Ok, let’s start with a quick evaluation of your body’s capabilities.”

  With the corner of your eyes you could see Bucky lifting an absurd amount of weights – super soldier let’s not forget that again. You started first with the bar without anything on it, before Steve began adding. You were struggling, which made him know when to stop piling stuff and changing the muscle groups. What felt like 2 hours later he gave you a small break, walking over to his friend to spot him.

  A dust cloud swirled around the metal arm before the weights floated in the air. Once more finding yourself eyeing him head to toe – his arms were glistening from the sweat droplets forming onto them. The t-shirt was tightly clinging on his muscles like glue was applied to them previously. His hair fixed to patches of his lovable face. That untamed beard and ice blue eyes made his existence mirror that of a Greek God statue. Fingers tingling around your water bottle unknowingly wishing to touch him, before noticing Steve walking up to you – not before Bucky’s eyes met yours for a split second for who knows what time.

“He is a killer diller aint he.” The blonde snickered at your flushed face, being caught staring. Taking a quick drink from your bottle ,you stood up and threw it to Steve

“Grandstand.” you coughed out at the man leaving him stunned in place from what just erupted from your mouth “You coming?” you coaxed him successfully.

  Aside from the small playful teasing Cap tried to play on you,F on his best friend’s back - training was though. He wasn’t going easy on you, ass hitting the floor one too many times for your liking. You could already feel the bruises coloring your skin a midnight blue with a hint of a bloody red.

“Time out!” puffing out the words with the last liter of air left inside your lungs “I-I can’t Steve.” The dull thudding sound your legs made hitting the mat echoed in the big gym. It was loud enough to wake up the dead.

“That is enough for today. You did surprisingly well. Don’t you think Mr. Grandstrand?” a towel flung on top of your head turning off the lights in your mind. With a trembling hand you pulled it off to look at the one and only Sergeant, looming over you. Steve’s words summoned a low groan from Bucky filled with annoyance.

“Hey now, don’t snap your cap.” A type of teasing only possible between friends gone through decades and countless near death situations. The towel was soft enveloped in a calming and nostalgic smell. Having gained some of your strength back, your palms pushed off the floor with a fling. For a moment your demeanor mirrored that of Steve, calmly tapping Bucky’s back and throwing him a playful look, that of years long pals.

“Come on cap, don’t tease him that much. He gonn’ flip his wig soon.” The sentence dripping with a heavy old school Brooklyn accent. No war could prepare them both for this one sided conversation they just witnessed.

“Did she just?” Bucky pointed at you, finger hovering in the direction of your disappearing body silhouette.

“I don’t know man.”