#its generally much easier for me if someone just gives me their prompt and leaves me to create what i want from it

[ninjasmudge]

How do you price your Ko-Fi request? I can't find it and I'm new to using the site.

ill try to say this all as clearly as possible but if you need further clarification, you can just ask! i generally do these by the amount time they take me for the money im given.

the price of a kofi is set to £4, which is the price for a standard request (a clean sketch, minimal coloring, preferably no more than two characters), if you tip one ko-fi at £4 and the request idea, thats what ill do.

if you tip me more ko-fis than that, i usually do a small comic around the idea. i try to add a panel per kofi, so if you sent me two kofis, totalling £8, id do you a two panels comic. if you give 4 kofis, id try to do a 4 panel comic.

occasionally i cant actually think of a comic for a request (i do try, but sometimes i can spend hours trying to come up with something and theres just no ideas there). if i cant think of anything, ill do the request as a more detailed, probably colored single illustration, which will take me around the same amount of time as a much less detailed comic would.

if you only wanted to send the one tip of £4, thats perfectly fine, and i wont do a comic for that, just the one picture.

im pretty open about this though so if you wanted to send a couple of kofis and the req and ask that it be a single illustration, id do that. most people send me an idea/prompt style request, examples of ones ive done before being 'macaque and wukong raiding the fridge at 2am' 'mei biting someone, you can choose the context',

but if you have something slightly more specific that that, thats okay too! ive also done some oc illustrations, and am open to doing specific designs for characters as well.

sorry thats kinda long but i hope that makes sense for you, if you have more questions you can ask :]

ko-fi link if u need it

[scorpioriesling]

Those prompts are so good omg… what if smut 38 and 15 with az !?

Midnights

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warnings: smut, mdni, 18+, oral (fem recieving), mentions of weed and alcohol, pining if you squint

Summary: You absolutely cannot sleep, and of course you're out of all of your usual sleep-remedies. Who would be awake at this hour anyway to ask for help? You don't need to think long -- the answer comes through your phone at the moment you needed it.

SR’s Note: Thank you anon for the request and for your patience -- this uses prompts #15 and #38! Enjoy, xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Every night it was the same -- you'd always end up being scheduled late at the bar, which of course meant getting home at an ungodly hour, thus leaving you to finally lie down in bed in the very early hours of the morning.

You didn't complain; the cash folded neatly inside your bulging wallet kept you quiet about that, especially considering it was a Friday night and the customers at the bar were feeling rather generous tonight.

Although you made enough in tips on top of what you'd earned each hour, it almost made up for the job at hand. Sure, you'd spent your paid eight hours mixing and whisking away at drinks; but you'd also conversed, brought up the energy, and had to play off the frequent attention you'd recieved shift after shift.

There were only so many responses that you could come up with to "let me get your number, baby!" that were light-hearted and fun, but still dodgy enough that you didn't actually need to give it out. Can't hurt a male's ego too bad, if you piss someone off too much, it could cost you a job.

Overall, it was just exhausting.

Nonetheless -- you flipped back and forth between your sheets, desperately searching for sleep; a concept that seemed just out of reach as your eyes fluttered open for the hundredth time, no matter how many times you'd forced them shut.

Reaching toward your bedside table, you clicked the power button on your phone, the bright screen in your dark room causing you to squint at the intensity. 2:53 AM. Why couldn't you fall asleep?

Sighing, you place your phone in its original spot, flopping onto your back and running a hand over your face. You stare blankly at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do. You'd used the last of the sleepy tea that your best friend gave you -- Nesta swore by it -- and were out of weed, which always relaxed you enough that you may drift off easier.

Nesta was for sure asleep by now. She already chastized you for your plans to not attend training with her in the morning -- forgive you, that you'd choose to spend your Saturday morning sleeping in rather than watch her and her boyfriend pretend not to undress eachother with their eyes, thank you -- so, at this hour, she would be long asleep.

As you're racking your brain, your phone buzzes beside you. You reach for it once more, turning the brightness down to see the screen more clearly.

Wow. A message from the last person you'd expect tonight.

You up?

You read the text again, and again, looking up at the name and back at the gray text bubble to make sure you're seeing straight.

I am...

You stare at your phone screen blankly, waiting a few moments before three little dots pop up.

I can't sleep.

You probably should, you type back. Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?

Considering the sounds from down the hallway... I don't think anyone is going to be awake tomorrow morning for training.

You bite your bottom lip, chewing on the skin. So... Nesta definitely was awake. Awake, but... busy. You could just text her instead, ask her for some more of her tea. She would be able to get it to you, seeing as she isn't getting any shut-eye.

But, instead, you type back.

Want to come over?

✧･ﾟ: *

You're rushing around your bathroom, brushing your hair and spraying yourself with perfume when you hear a light tapping on your window. It's then that you look up, meeting your own eyes in the mirror, and scowl. He's just an acquaintence, you think to yourself. Why stress so much over how you look?

Maybe, because he is handsome.

Come on, you mentally slap yourself. You've met him only a few times anyway. He probably won't even care that much.

But you care. You really care-

It is 3 AM, he will understand.

You continue your mental battle in your head as you nervously pad over to your window, drawing the curtains and pushing the glass up. The moonlight bends around his hulking form -- and you can see his dark, touseled hair shining in the pale light. He tucks his wings behind him, leaning so suddenly close to climb through.

"Hey," he utters. You back up as he squeezes through, grunting when his feet finally hit the floor. You stare at him, looking up and down unabashedly. He has ditched his usual leathers for gray sweats, a cotton black tank, and tennis shoes.

Holy shit-

"Are you just gonna stare at me or..."

Your cheeks heat, and you quickly glance anywhere but him.

"No! Uh, no, I... welcome, uh..." you search for words, and he chuckles.

"You just get off work?" He asks, making way through your room for your living room. You trail behind him, your brow only furrowing slightly that you're following him through your apartment.

"Yes...?" You say. He plops down, making to untie his shoes and get comfy on the cushions. You simply watch in amusement, finding it rather hard to tear your eyes away from his massive biceps-

"Do you always stare or am I just now realizing it?" He teases again, kicking his final shoe off as he adjusts his hips on the couch. His arm lazily drapes over the back of it, and you scoff.

"No," you say defensively. "I am just amused that this is the first time you're in my apartment, and you are acting as if you've been here a hundred times before." You shrug, making way for the fridge.

"You got anything to drink?" He asks, changing the subject immediately. You reach inside, crouching to look between the shelves for anything other than the usual.

"Do you want alcohol? Or just a regular drink?" You ask. Azriel chuckles again, and you poke your head out for just a moment to see him smiling lightly at you and shaking his head.

"Ahh," he sighs. "You're a funny girl, Y/N." You raise an eyebrow.

"Just a normal drink, please. Don't want to be too fucked up if I'm going to try and fly out of here later." He reasons. Your heart sinks just a tiny bit at that, wishing he'd stay.

Don't be delusional.

"Water it is." You pull too bottles from the shelf, tossing one to him. He catches it, uncapping and taking a few long drinks before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You try not to stare again as you make your way to the couch beside him.

"So..." You say awkwardly, reaching for the remote to click on the TV. "What made you uh," you smile nervously. "What made you text me of all people in the middle of the night?"

Azriel shrugs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean, I told you about your friend and Cass. I hate when they wait so late to start with... you know... whatever they do," he avoids the word.

"Fucking?" You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes meet yours.

"Uh... yeah. That." He coughs, and you smirk, clicking through the suggested shows on Hulu.

"Still doesn't explain why you came here though. Don't you have like, a million friends? Or, a girlfriend or something? I thought you and-"

"Nahh, nah." He interjects, shaking his head. "Just the Inner Circle. Well, them and now you, I guess, since Nesta started bringin' you around."

Your heart swells, the mini-crush on this handsome male from training only growing with every minute he spends on your couch.

"I knew it'd be quieter here, I guess." He says in finality.

You pause, crossing your legs and turning to face him.

"And, how would you know that?"

"Know... what?" He asks.

"Know it would be quiet here?"

He looks side to side, playing with the silver band on his finger. "I don't know, I mean, why wouldn't it be?"

You frown. "Did you just assume I didn't have some else I was spending my time with?" His head tilts to the side in consideration.

"You know what I mean. Fucking?" A light rosy blush fans across his cheekbones, and he shakes his head.

"No, I uh, I didn't think you had anyone here. I know you didn't, actually, um, Cassian told me-"

"Told you what." You demand, inching closer and closer. The smell of mist and cedar infiltrates your senses, and you have to remind yourself to remain steadfast.

"He... he told me you weren't seeing anybody. Haven't been, for a while, actually." You pause, staring into his hazel eyes that search yours.

"Wait, what?" You say. His hand on the back of the couch slides to meet your bare arm, and you almost shudder at the contact. "W-why would he tell you that?" You ask.

Azriel leans closer, his pupils dilating with every inch he draws nearer. He's so close that you can count every light freckle on his nose, see every fracture of color in his irises -- so close, just an inch or two more and his inviting lips would be on yours.

"Because I asked him. About you." His hand on your shoulder slowly trails up, brushing across your shoulder and snaking down toward your hip. You only now realize the position you're in -- you're practically atop him, he casually leans back against the L-shaped couch, and you've all but crawled between his legs and sat in his lap at this point.

"Why ask..." you trail off, and his other hand moves to brush a fallen strand of hair from your forehead. He smiles softly up at you, his thumb brushing against the swell of your cheek.

"I had to know if I actually had a chance," he whispers, his fingers lightly holding your jaw and pulling you down to him. "Before I did this."

His lips were definitely inviting. Warm, and soft as they slid across yours, fitting perfectly against the skin of your own. He held you firmly, pulling you closer so that you were in fact straddling him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping across your bottom lip. You allowed him in, your own dancing with his in a tango of passion as his fingers gripped your hip tighter. His other hand roamed downward, first, lightly gripping the column of your throat. You softly moaned into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss.

His fingers kept travelling, down, down, over the curve of your breast, where he squeezed lightly before finding purchase on your other hipbone. You fingers tangled in his hair, softly skating through the strands as you continued to relish in the taste of him.

"Sweet thing," he pulls back, only slightly breathless as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. You gulp a few lungfuls of air in, and match his gaze, which is focused on your pelvis, unsubconciously moving in small circles atop his lap. He looks up at you again, chuckling before connecting your lips once more.

"You can't," he breaks the kiss for a breath. "...keep doing that..." He goes back in for more, his hands snaking behind you to grip your ass. You squeak, and he grins slyly at you. "...I can't fuck you on the first night, Y/N," he says, his gaze finding yours again. Oh, how good your name sounds coming from his lips...

"You'll see me for more than just one night?" You ask, and his eyes soften as he pulls you in for another quick peck.

"I'd like to see you every night, if you'd allow me." You giggle, and he smiles warmly up at you before pressing a trail of sweet kisses from the corner of your mouth, down your jawline in a descent over the column of your neck. He lightly bites on the junction between your neck and shoulder, eliciting another soft whine from you.

"Azriel..."

You can feel the pressure between your legs only growing, the thin material of his sweatpants the only barrier between your cotton shorts and his hardening length. He pulls back, his hands lifting you off of him for a moment as he slides down to lay flat on the couch.

"Az... what-"

"Sit on my face, baby." He asks, his fingers tugging on your hips as he adjusts his wings underneath him. Your eyes widen, and he pulls on the waistband of your shorts. "Please... I want to take care of you."

You stand, shucking off your tiny shorts and watch as he marvels at the thong you had on underneath. You peel if from you, discarding them before returning to position yourself right over his awaiting mouth.

"Mmm," he hums, his lips kissing the inside of your thighs softly as you tremble over him. You can feel your arousal leaking from your core, surely trailing down your inner thighs at this point, and you place your hands on the back of the couch as his deliciously rough hands grip your ass again.

"So fucking perfect Y/N..." he mumbles, licking a slow stripe between your folds that has you gasping. "So fucking wet, just for me."

His lips press into you, his tongue working to stimulate every last nerve ending you have down there as you grip the back of the couch, whining and panting pathetically above him. His hands search across your ass, gripping your hips, and holding your thighs wide for him when you try to close them around his head.

"Fuck, Azriel... eating me so good..." you cry out as his lips find your clit, sucking on it harshly without warning. You feel the liquid fire in your lower belly being set ablaze, growing hotter and hotter with each expert flick of his tongue against your dripping heat-

"Mhmm, you like it when I eat you out?" He mumbles, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as his tongue dodges in and out of your core.

"Fuck! Please... oh Gods.. yes Az-" you pant, your hands braced behind you on his thighs as your eyes look down to meet his. Your met with a sinister stare as his mouth detaches from you one last time.

"Come for me, sweet girl," he commands. You cry out desperately, his tongue so deep inside you that his nose nudges your clit with each minstration. A few more swipes of his lips against your pussy, and you're coming undone.

"Azriel!" You groan, your lower half slightly shaking as your orgasm shoots through you. His hands hold you in place over him, his tongue licking up every last drop of you that spills out before kissing your inner thighs one more time.

He delicately lifts you off of him, laying you down on the cushions as he stands up beside the couch, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on him, and he allows you to by kissing you longer, and longer...

"Sweet girl," he pulls back, his hand cupping your cheek lightly. You gaze up at him, all the adoration in the world as his chin glistens in the moonlight with your essence. "Tell me where I can find you a towel?"

Your heart melts, and you silently point to the bathroom. He makes his way over, coming back a few moments later with a warm rag to help clean you up. You move to take it from him, but he only shakes his head at you.

"I said I would take care of you," he offers. You stare at him, bewildered where your night has gone and what all has come out of it. Once you're clean, he simply picks you up in his arms, carrying you gently to your bed before resting you upon it and tucking the covers around you comfortably.

"Az," you reach for him when he moves to leave your bedside, and he turns to face you once more.

"Yes?" He asks. You grab his hand, pulling him close to you.

"Please, stay?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "You know I want to-"

"So stay," you cut in.

"We haven't even had a first date yet," You can practically see the war in his eyes, but reluctantly, he folds his wings in close and walks around to the other side of the bed and pulls the blankets back.

"I don't want you to think this is just for the night," he continues, nuzzling in close and pulling you flush against his chest. "I want things to be more than... just, something for one night, Y/N."

"I do too Az, really," you kiss his cheek, and he grins.

"And, I promise, I won't think its just for one night. I'll trust you," you say, and his fingers roam over your bare bottom, resting comfortably there as his heavy-lidded stare meets yours once more before you drift off in his warm embrace.

"As long as you come back tomorrow."

✧･ﾟ: *

[dickarchivist]

Phantom with "Stay with me. Come on, just stay with me" with fem!reader because I love pain 🙃

Worthy of Her Light

Clone OC Phantom × fem!Reader (jedi general, left vague)

Word Count: 807

Prompt: "Stay with me. Come on, just stay with me"

Rating: PG-14 for violence and death and sads, but as always MINORS DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: vague war violence, character death (technically its Reader)

Song: Shrike by Hozier (Live at Windmill Lane)

Summary: Phantom loved her. He thought, hoped really, he even had the shot at a future with her. Kids, a pet, a place to call their own... he doesn't think that anymore. He doesn't think he'll ever have it. Because she's gone... how is he supposed to live without her?

Author's Notes: This one is in Phantom's POV because painful. Get those first hand feels. Wanna know why Phantom acts like how he does? His fuckboi origins? Yeah it's sadder than you think.

Thank you @n0vqni for this prompt, and your patience ♡ I hope it's worth the wait.

I had never seen a more beautiful person in all my life. Which, that says something, considering what I look like. When I first saw her, I was still brand new, fresh of the cadet line. Shiny, no scuffs, no paint, no scars... I used to hide behind Wraith, if you can believe that. She'd come around, and I'd duck behind him blushing, too nervous to even say hi.

"You're Phantom, right?"

I'd just gotten my name, I wasn't even used to it yet, I was so surprised she knew it. So she waits while I'm lookin around for whoever the fuck "Phantom" is before I jump, go, "Kriff, that's me! Uh, yeah, 1404, Phantom now, I guess."

I think the worst thing about all this, is I never got her name. When she held out her hand, saying who she was, I was too focused on how soft she was... her hands were soft. So warm and gentle, but a firm handshake. I thought to myself "you'll hear it again, someone else will say it. You'll hear it again."

Everyone called her "General", damn title. "Yes ser." Damn formalities. I asked Specs once, he knows everyone's names, real good about it, but he just laughed at me. Said something witty, he's good like that, but... I don't remember what he said anymore. We lost her that day.

I lost her that day. That's all I remember, the fear, the pain...

General Valka, it was the first battle I'd seen him bare his fangs in. We'd been in scraps before, but this one was a full out bloodbath. First time I was scared of him. He snarled, looked at me with those piercing eyes, and growled, "Find her." Over the roar of artillery fire.

In my gut, I already knew. I knew it was too late. I... I couldn't tell you how I found her. None of it makes any sense, even today... Athena swears it was the force guiding me, but clones, we don't... that's not what this is about. It's about her.

Another medic from the 418th was there, he was trying to patch her up, but... but that's hard to do when there's not much left. I yanked off my helmet and threw it forward so I could retrieve it easier.

Her laugh, fuck... fuck I miss it so much. She laughed when my helmet landed beside her, "So dramatic! Acting like you're- ah- you're seeing someone die for th-the first time."

"You're not! You're not, just-- just stay with me, okay? Stay, please? Please... stay with me, come on..."

The medic gave her a shot, quick with a med gun, and I knew what it was immediately. Heavy sedative and a pain killer. There was nothing he could do for her. He left.

"You should get out of here too, you know. The Republic won't like it if their prettiest clone gets blown up in the mud with one of their generals... Tommy, you have to go."

"No." My voice was strained, I held her hand as she placed it on my cheek, "No, I-- I love you, I love you, so I'm not leaving. I'll never--"

"What's my name?"

Her smile was so soft. She knew I didn't know it... she was trying to get me to give up on her. Give me a hall pass, let me leave her there like I would a stranger... "Your name is mine... you're name is the sound of my heart beat when I see you in anywhere. That feeling of nerves in my stomach when I hear you laugh. That kiss I stole in the 'fresher that morning after we-"

"Tommy," her thumb ran over my lips, and I could taste her blood. She smiled at me, pulled me down to kiss her again, one more time. She put her other hand on my chestplate pushing her lightsaber for me to take as whispered against my lips, "I loved you, too... don't stay..."

She died there. I couldn't leave her, I refused. I wrapped when remained of her in her jedi robes, and I carried her back to base. We were there for 15 more days, I don't know what became of her body. General Valka said she was transferred to her home planet, but I couldn't tell you which one it was...

I couldn't tell you anything about her, other than I loved her. I loved her, I begged her to stay, I lost her, and she's gone.

Dax'Malkin told me to keep her light saber. I hope someday I'll be able to turn it on for myself, to see the glow of the golden light blade. When I remember her name, I'll be worthy of that light. I'm told the force can hear us, so, if you're listening...

I love you, still.

Tag List for the babes:

[dragoon-mid-jump]

FFXIV Swap: Relaxation Edition!

A swap gift playlist for @ubejamjar feat. their WoL, Ajisai Kawanami, playing to the suggested theme of Relaxation! I suppose you could call this "Lo-Fi Beats to Rotate Your WoL To"? Because that's what I sure did making this! It's got a little bit of everything I felt would resonate with your WoL, from vibes and aesthetics to shipping.

And below the cut are some brief blurbs on how and why each entry made it into the playlist itself! Thank you much for your patience, apologies for the lateness, and I hope you enjoy giving this a listen as much as I did crafting it!

The Last Stand (Masayoshi Soken): Personally, one of my favorite Endwalker tracks to vibe to. I heard it in my head as I read your ask prompt entry titled "The Perfect Date" with Ajisai and Aymeric. There's something about the acoustic that really resonates with the notion of relaxation, which is fitting considering it plays during downtime moments in Endwalker. I think it also really fits the Aesthetics section of the "5 Character Associations" tag game you did!

I Still Miss You (Bernth): A piece I found from a primarily instrumental guitarist I listen to that I checked out after noticing that you shipped Ajisai with Haurchefant, given his ultimate fate, as well as the "5 Character Associations" at play once more ("Loneliness after your lover goes home" under Emotions/Feelings) while still tying instrumentals to relaxation.

Easier (Crane Wives): Found in an ask while trawling through Ajisai's character tag, so I figured I'd add it in! You also already did the lyric analysis yourself, too, and I can see how it lines up!

Vanilla Twilight (Owl City): There's something about the lyrics of missing someone dear to you that resonates with what I can feel from Aymeric being unable to accompany Ajisai on her travels past Heavensward, save for a few instances later down the MSQ, coupled with the colors blue and purple and starry skies and winter mornings in the Associations post, while also tapping into the more lowkey vibes I'm aiming for.

Rule #1 - Magic (Fish in a Birdcage): A song I found while music-surfing, and after I gave it a listen, it reminded me of your "A Perfect Date" vignette, moreso the latter half after Ajisai and Aymeric leave the cafe they were at and retire to her abode. It's the combination of the more private quarters and the repeated lyrics:

"There is magic in this room I don't know if you can see it There is magic in this room I don't know if you can feel it It's called love Some call it love Love"

as they just spend the rest of the night in each others' presence.

6. Between Twilight (Lindsey Stirling): This was mainly on vibes from the low-key violin that comprises most of this track and resonance with...well, not just her aesthetics, but with some gposes of her general travels and less strenuous MSQ moments.

7. Foreverglow (Lindsey Stirling): It was right under the above song in the album listing, but this time it has lyrics. Still has the same vibes as the above, but the lyrics have the song hone in more on the night sky aesthetic.

8. Starlight Waltz (Ponyphonic): Another find from music-surfing. Pulling from your Wondrous Tales prompt "Lost Together" as well as that starry sky aesthetic. Well, it's a waltz, and it calls to mind the dance in the prompt. It fits both of these separately, but not necessarily together, if that makes sense? Mainly because that particular Gpose isn't shot at night.

9. Twinleaf Town (Pokemon Diamond/Peal/Platinum OST, cover by insaneintherainmusic): Ah, Twinleaf Town my beloved. Your hometown in the Gen 4 games. Comfy and cozy and safe. In Platinum particularly, the climate has turned a bit colder in Sinnoh compared to its predecessors, noted by patches of snow around the neighborhood and the characters dressed warmer. I think all that fits some of Ajisai's softer vibes, aesthetics, and Gposes.

10. Nobility Sleeps (Masayoshi Soken): And for the finishing touch, I just had to add a track from Heavensward to allude to Ajisai having love interests in both Haurchefant and Aymeric! So, I picked Nobility Sleeps, which plays at night in the Pillars in Ishgard! It's a soothing track, imo, which is a given with the time of day you can hear it in-game.

[chaotictarlos]

Apology

Rating: General

Part two of Letter (should be read before you read this)

Author's Note: I'm so glad people wanted a second part because I had planned on writing this! There will be one more part after this!

For @tarlosweeklyprompts daily prompts: Letter

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

TK is still thinking about the letter an hour later when he’s done cleaning the living room.

It’s sitting on the coffee table, stuffed inside its envelope and practically screaming at him to continue reading. He’s not sure if his heart can handle reading the words that the letter contains knowing that Carlos wrote it during one of the worst periods of their life together.

Still, he finds himself drifting back to the letter.

He sits back down on the couch and stares at it for a long while before picking it back up and pulling it out of the envelope, picking up where he had left off reading it earlier.

It won’t make you want me anymore. Nothing will do that. Sitting here is as much of a waste of time as writing this letter, yet I can’t stop from doing either.

I’m so angry at you and I don’t want to be, not now when you could die in the next minute. I don’t want to hold onto this anger but it’s so much easier than giving into the ocean of hurt that you’ve left me with.

How can you claim to love someone and then walk out so easily? How can you claim to love someone but not even want to talk and work things out? How could you toss me away so easily, TK? Did what we have matter that little to you?

Did I matter that little to you?

I don’t suppose I’ll ever know the answers to these questions, will I? Because even if you wake up there isn’t an ‘us’ to talk about. I don’t even know if you want me here, but I can’t leave. I can’t not sit here by your side, hoping and praying that you’ll open your eyes and I get to see them again.

I shouldn’t have bought the loft and put your name on it, not without talking to you. I had tunnel vision and all I could think about was us getting our own place and starting the life that we’ve talked about. I didn’t think about how it would affect you, or how it would seem to you and I’m sorry for that. I focused on how much you loved the place and how happy it could make us.

I’m sorry I did that.

It’s just another in the long line of mistakes I’ve made. I don’t think I’ll ever stop making these kinds of mistakes. I want too much and it blows up in my face.

That’s always going to happen, isn’t it? I’m never going to get that happy life that I want, am I?

The answer is no, of course. Because I can’t picture a happy life with anyone but you.

You’ve changed my life in so many ways, more ways than you know TK, and if I hadn’t been so overwhelming, trying to fix everything myself instead of listening to you maybe I could have eventually found the words to tell you.

Maybe we wouldn’t be here, preparing to say goodbye forever because the nursing staff doesn’t have hope you’ll wake up.

I hope you do.

I don’t know how I’ll survive in a world where you don’t exist anymore.

Please come back to me TK. Please.

I’d do anything just to see your smile one more time.

Love, Carlos

There are tears running down TK’s face when he finally comes to the end of the letter. It’s a mess, jumbled thoughts but the feelings that Carlos was obviously feeling when he was writing it were glaringly loud. TK can feel them so strongly it’s like they are his own, and not Carlos’ from a year ago.

TK folds the letter back up and slips it back into the envelope. He’s not sure what to do with the words that he’s read or the feelings that he’s now sitting with. He wonders why Carlos never showed him the letter and why he’s held onto it so long. He wonders why it’s been tucked behind a picture of them.

He wipes his eyes and tries to get up the motivation to continue his tasks, but he can’t. All of it had left as he read the letter and was reminded of how much pain Carlos had been in. Pain that TK’s wanted to take away from him since he woke back up and they started to make amends.

TK allows him to sit in the feelings for a few moments as he thinks about what he wants to do, thinking about how Carlos might still be hurt over everything even though it’s been a while. Why else would he have kept the letter? TK figures that there’s probably an overdue conversation they need to have.

He nods to himself and gets up, letting the letter lay on the table so he could find it later to talk to Carlos and makes his way into the kitchen so he can make dinner and have it ready when Carlos gets home.

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

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes

[moorishflower]

66 for Sprout wings, 72, and 74 💛💛

For the fanfiction writing asks meme

What’s a fun fact about Maybe sprout wings?

It almost didn't get written at all! I wrote the very first scene with an extremely clear image of where I wanted to go with the fic, but...almost no idea how to get there. That's why the first chapter is so tonally different from the rest of it (and maybe someday I'll go back and rewrite it, now that I feel a lot more confident in my writing abilities in general lol). Maybe sprout wings owes its existence to @fishfingersandscarves, who provided a lot of encouragement and support over it, and kept my interest focused on it, and them prodding me about it is what gave me the inspiration I needed to connect the loose ends I was having trouble with. :)

A more fact-based fact: I read the entire Odyssey I believe 3 full times in the course of writing that fic, not to mention how many individual scenes I read over and over, and how many summaries and prose adaptations of scenes I read in order to get a better sense of what was actually going on, lol.

What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

I think any of the compliments where people express any strong emotional response as some of my favorites. I've gotten a number that tell me a fic made them cry, and that's always a very powerful thing, to be able to prompt that level of emotion. There are two that really stand out to me though. One was a comment on Ab instrumento ad corpus, which was on the surface my excuse to try and write fisting, and which turned, in part, into a 27k exploration of feelings, queer history, and kink exploration. I got a comment from a reader who said they were turning 71 this year, and who said that it was only in the last 15 years or so that they had come to understand their own queerness, but that they had been there in the 70s and 80s and 90s and had had gay and lesbian and trans friends, and that seeing their history in my fic had made them tear up, and how important it was to remember. Queer history and especially queer elders are super important to me. It wasn't that long ago there was a time when we simply didn't HAVE queer elders. They were all dead. And now we do! I went to Pride in NYC, and I saw SO SO MANY queer elders! People who narrowly missed the horrors of Reagan's presidency, who snuck or fought their way through, who survived. It made me cry. This comment still makes me cry, rereading it now.

The second comment was one on Beautiful, Strange and New, where a reader described their husband's struggles with depression and how they thought a line from the fic had helped them to connect to him during a very difficult time, and to feel more hopeful, and just...so I've struggled with depression almost all my life, and this fic very much was my love-letter to my own recovery, and coming to terms with the fact that there's never any CURING depression. There's only taking tiny steps forward, even when you slide back three steps on the way, because the alternative is giving up and then the depression, that bastard, wins. And it was really important to me, in BSN, that there wasn't some grand thing that made Morpheus better, he wasn't "cured" because Hob and Daniel loved him. He ends the fic no longer wanting to kill himself, but ADMITS that there are still bad days. That things aren't perfect. That his body is not perfect, that he hurts sometimes, that there will be days he spends in bed and doesn't want to leave because sleeping seems easier. But. BUT. There are birds singing, and kids playing in the park, and maybe next year they'll find the cure for cancer, and we won't know unless we keep going as long as we can. And to see that something I'd written had had some impact on someone like me, had offered some sort of comfort, had given someone the words they needed to help someone like me, that was...that was really powerful. I had to sit with that one for a really long time.

Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love?

I mean, I think Wings just because it's my baby but I understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea. XD I don't know! I think everything I've written has gotten a good amount of attention. Definitely more than I ever expect each time. I think Here there be dragons, which is part of the Siren!Dream universe, is one of the more interesting settings and concepts I've written, and that the tags might scare some people off, but it's not that difficult to understand, I promise! And then I think the long way down, which was my first try at writing angst that I actually PERCEIVED as angst, was a major milestone for me. But for the most part I think fics are going to get the love that they get based on what people want to read, and I have to come to terms with the fact that sometimes what I want to write isn't the same as what people are interested in (see: Wolf and I, my extremely niche Dream-as-sentient-wolf smut fic, which was written for me and only me lol).

[laikaflash]

Writers never /needed/ AI before so they dont /need/ it now either.

That said though, I think there are still ethical ways to use it that dont necessarily constitute as pawning off creative work. For example, would you find it wrong if someone fed a sentence or two that they wrote into an AI in order to figure out how to make their writing more concise? Or what about if you can't find the right word to use so you give an AI a definition with the expectation that it gives you a list of words that might fit what you are looking for? Or would you say that AI has no place in writing at all? /gen

Well, there is a difference between using Grammarly to fix sentences and feeding prompts to ChatGPT and coasting from there. I'm aware that GrammarlyGO is powered by GPT-3, but I think any sort of proofreading software should be benign in of itself. I'm not going to pretend I completely understand LLMs, but I'm willing to listen. The hype over generative AI as a whole still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, though.

The latter is how Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing got flooded by Tim Boucher and others who pounced on the trend the first chance they got. What bothers me about that is the hustle culture around it. (ETA: To Boucher's credit, he does make some good points in this interview about responsible AI use. He was definitely caught up in the hype last year, let me put it that way.) I'll let this passage from Robert Evans' Substack article sum things up:

The main barrier in terms of both production time and profitability was the ghostwriting. A human being can only write so fast, even if they’re just re-wording a Wikipedia article. ChatGPT and other large language models provide an incredible opportunity for these hustlers to increase their output. There’s only one problem: getting ChatGPT to write an entire proper novel (50k+ words) is basically impossible right now. That’s why all of Tim Boucher’s books were just a couple thousand words long.

Yes, hustle culture is nothing new; this method is a relatively new one. At the end of the day, all those people did was scramble to make money with the latest thing. Said latest thing happens to be a tool that makes it easier to saturate the market for however long the hype lasts. That is cynical bullshit at its core.

That sure got away from me... I just wanted to be clear on where my misgivings are. My issue isn't so much with the tools themselves than it is with the environment they're being used in. I've said something along those lines before and I think the sentiment is worth repeating.

[iriemorning]

return to sender

fluency in words comes with great expectations. as i was widely read since young, people hang on to what i say and so i often feel that looming pressure on my shoulder whenever i speak out and inform. in contrast, ideas breeze to me like petals in spring. i see all these foods for thought and i am a mere basket catching all of them. but whenever it's time for me to present them into something people can digest, my words don't come out easily—both written and orally.

analyzing literature pieces and academic papers are relatively easier, since you already have a source material to relate to (which is what my current degree is all about) the key there is finding twisted connections. you're not creating concepts out of thin air, unlike writing fiction. it is one of the most soul-sucking practice a human can ever do, so fermenting my ideas for a long period of time is a must. there are a lot of stories in my roster gathering dust for years, waiting for the miracle when i would finally have the time of day to write their first draft. but alas, i'm a chronic procrastinator; very much in love with outlining and daydreaming scenes more than actually putting the work to churn out words on the blank page.

nowadays i'm working on that weakness by writing a page everyday. it's a snail pace but i hope i can make it a habit in the long run.

there are fortunate times wherein i catch fully ripe fruits in my basket. my expertise is putting together various petals from different flowers altogether, creating a new, unique flower. ripe fruits though, is the quintessence of art in its absolute form. they come in my all-time favorites [TV shows and movies, animangas, comics, books, music videos, albums, paintings] and what im striving to make someday; to have a complete opus with my style and trademark.

but there are also terrible times wherein i receive unripe ones from the mail. my former colleagues, for example, have asked me for advice about their unfinished pieces. some even prompted me to revise the entire manuscript itself (that's like giving away free labor, being an editor is not for the weak), or changing the entire plot based on my suggestions. like woah, why would you trust me that much?

which is why i always walk on eggshells when giving out constructive criticism, or making offhanded remarks, because it might make or break someone's morale and negatively affect how they make their artwork. that's the last thing i want. i am a firm believer that we should all maintain creative autonomy on our own works, and how we live our life in general

so here is a big disclaimer: please treat whatever i say here in my blog (experiences, tips, realizations) with a grain of salt. they're rather N of 1 trials: i am a lifeseeking-researcher but i am also my own sole test subject, always putting myself in this microscopic stance with the rest of the world as a petri dish. i cannot guarantee that whatever works for me will also work for you. and just because i make direct eye contacts with the sun doesn't mean you'd also follow me and make yourself blind. the world is in constant flux, our cells are always regenerating, the energies are always changing. i grow everyday, and some epiphanies i get may not be applicable anymore the day after tomorrow, or a year later.

only take whatever seems useful for you in my basket of confectionery then leave the rest, at your own discretion; maybe even pass it on to the next person.

and there's more: ever heard of unwanted deliveries? annoying calls from unregistered numbers masking themselves as urgent? there are times when i receive these rotten fruits; situations that seemingly require my immediate attention and action but doesnt really fit my forte in life. i am just like any other twenty-something-year-old-woman, living my normal college life, having silly little crushes, spending my teensy-weensy outdoor moments reflecting because i didn't do that when i was young (i was just like any other rebellious teen too, not so special). so i could have been any of you. i am not a superhero, a mad scientist, nor an aspiring cult-leader. just a creatively-constipated storyteller

if you still wanna stick around, then welcome to my humble abode (maybe even cure my word constipation... is that a yes?)

but if i receive unwarranted energies, trust that i will send it back to your address

with love, xx

[gentrychild]

the au ask: uh, not sure how this works, but, let's say an au where the slime incident never happens?

Anon, no! I have about five AUs for that! You could at least tell me if you want it to be angst or crack!

More seriously, it's such a fun prompt because it avoids All Might telling Izuku he can't be a hero without a quirk, which is the start of so many vigilante/villain/quirkless Izukus.

But since I am a benevolent writer, I will not talk about the AU where Tsuyu and Mineta dies, then Iida, then Kota, then Mirio, Eri isn't saved, and so on.

Okay, it got really long so it's under a Read More.

All Might arrests the Slime villain before he gets in the sewers so neither Izuku nor Bakugou are attacked by him. The problem is that it also means that All Might never meets Izuku, never break his little heart, and Izuku never has the chance to prove his worth to All Might so no OFA.

Life goes on. Izuku still wants to become a hero. However, since his homeroom teacher told his entire class that he wanted to go to UA, his entire class, led by Bakugou, has decided to make his life a living hell over it. Constant taunting and people laughing at him.

It takes its toll on him.

He still doesn't doubt that a quirkless hero can exist but the more days, weeks, months pass, the more he keeps thinking of how easier it would be if he had a quirk.

A dangerous thought. One he usually doesn't allow himself to think because why whine about what is impossible to have? But one boy can only take "What a useless quirkless Deku like you do?" before he starts to get haunted by strange thoughts. Cough... urges... Cough.

It also makes him eager to prove himself. Maybe that's why he intervenes that evening when he sees a villain trying to hurt someone. Except that once the civilian he helped is running to call a hero, he is reminded that he is a smol child made of only skin and bones and that the guy in front of him is about to bash his head in.

He tries to protect himself, his hand grabbing the villain by the head and in this moment, as he is sure that he is about to be killed, he thinks the one selfish thought that he ever thought:

"It's unfair... that this quirk belongs to someone like you... instead of me."

And just like that, Izuku takes a quirk for the first time.

The villain runs in terror and Izuku runs (in the other direction) in confusion. Soon, it's pretty clear that he apparently had the ability to take and give quirks (thank you, Mom, who has volunteered to try the villain's quirk. Though it's strange how she keeps trying to call someone on her phone these days. But it's probably not important.) Which is a very cool quirk.

Izuku now has to pass from "No quirk at all" to "Can have whatever quirk he wants", which is quite dizzying.

He is so fired up for the UA exam, five months from then. Ridiculously happy bean.

Meanwhile, Mirio gets OFA because no successor showed the self sacrificial spirit that could have inspired All Might and both GT and Nighteye kinda pressures him into choosing a successor ASAP.

This has disastrous consequences as OFA is way too powerful for Mirio and starts to put an insane strain on his body. One month later, while fighting a villain (he has his hero license), he collapses on the side of the road, black lines all over his body as the quirk is killing him.

Izuku finds him and calls an ambulance ASAP but Mirio is is really bad shape. He asks him what happened and Mirio, half delirious, tells him that his quirk is killing him.

Izuku is very "????" but he can help! He can take the quirk away! But Lemillion would be quirkless! He can't take this decision! But Mirio can so he asks.

Mirio is half conscious. Completely in pain. He didn't even want that quirk. He likes Permeation. So, half delirious as he was, he might have mumbled something like "Take that thing out of me."

Izuku does, realizes that Mirio has two quirks so he leaves him the one that doesn't feel as heavy as a freaking dwarf star. Lemillion immediately starts to stop looking like he will drop dead any moment from now and the ambulance arrives, taking the hero student away.

Since Izuku doesn't have the All Might telling him that OFA is a good quirk, he acts like a sensible person: this quirk doesn't feel normal and it apparently kills its user. So he waits about 20 seconds before getting rid of it. He finds a nice and sturdy lizard, who, unbeknownst to everyone, becomes the 10th user of OFA.

The quirk comes back to Izuku.

Quirks aren't supposed to do that.

The freaking quirk is cursed. Izuku accepted a cursed quirk.

I cannot begin to describe how Izuku doesn't trust OFA in this AU. He doesn't use it. He intensively dislikes it. He tries everything and more to get rid of it but no matter what living organism he selects, the damn thing keeps coming back.

Meanwhile, Mirio wakes up from the hospital alive :) then remembers he gave a host-killing-quirk to a smol child. O.O

Panic ensues.

All Might realizes that whoever took OFA put his hand on Mirio's head, the same way AFO does. So it was probably AFO with a fun new shapeshifting quirk.

More panic ensues.

Meanwhile, AFO, alive indeed and who has been watching Mirio wastes away and enjoying the hell out of it (though he would have preferred it had happened one generation sooner) is furious that Yagi 2.0 isn't dying anymore because it means OFA passed to someone else! And since everyone in the OFAteam is quite panicked, they apparently lost the quirk he gave his little brother!

He gets so upset about it that he somehow misses the hundred of phonecalls from his wife.

So AFO and All Might alike are looking for someone with OFA but since Izuku just isn't using it, they aren't finding it.

Meanwhile, the Vestiges went from "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH, SOMEONE WITH AFO!!!! AHHHHHH!" to "What do you mean: You don't want to use us? We're not good enough for you???"

So OFA is doing the quirk equivalent of a cat purring and showing its belly so it can get some pet.

Izuku: "You know what? I know it's a trap but since I don't want to outright call a quirk evil, I will give you one chance to prove to me you're not a cursed power that wants my death."

Cue two broken legs.

Well, that's it. Izuku gave that nasty quirk the benefit of the doubt. He is never using it again. And since the damn thing is trying to contaminate his other quirks, he is vaulting it forever!

The irony is not lost on First.

The day of the entrance exam arrives and Izuku does quite well with his good, non cursed quirks, thank you very much.

And as he is leaving, he sees Lemillion! He is happy to see him in good health! He waves at him!

Meanwhile, Mirio spent the last five months trying to find that awful quirk he lost. He was half convinced he had given him to the Symbol of Evil and had trouble seeing the problem because if OFA would eat AFO, where was the problem? He is wondering if he condemned a kid to death. He Is Going Through A Lot.

He wants to say so many things, ask so many questions. And the one thing he manages to blurt out is "GET HIM!"

Tamaki and Nejire immediately shoulder slam a small child. They didn't even hesitate.

That's the story of how the Mighty team found OFA again.

Izuku loves hanging out with All Might but not even him can convince him that the quirk isn't cursed.

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Oh yay! I love it when you post things you write.

1. Hugging them from behind, laying their head on the other's shoulder

9. Leaning into them

With Raphael please. ❤️

Yeah, I felt like it's been such a long time ever since I posted some writing stuff, so here we aaaaaaaaaaaaare. I really want to get back into it. Thanks for the prompts 💜 !!! -> Prompts list, for those interested <-

Irritation grew as a small plate slipped from your grip and ungraciously flopped into the sink's soapy water - sending a considerable amount of large droplets on yourself. A deep sigh escaped your lips, could this day be even worse than the shitstorm it already has been? From work getting on your nerves lately, to delayed subway trains, and the landlord forgetting once again to schedule for someone to come repair the faulty drying machine in your apartment, fate and luck seemed to enjoy giving you the middle finger lately....

It was already late in the evening, you hadn't had anything to eat yet, and the dishes had been piling up long enough. Frankly, you just wanted to drop everything and call it a night, yet your focus remained on a fork as you scrubbed it continuously, grumbling and cursing in your head. All that annoyance made you miss the window opening in your living room nearby, a figure coming in. The faint mumbling escaping you piqued the newcomer's interest, a faint smile on his lips as he approached you calmly.

"I don't think that fork needs one of its prongs removed," said Raph with faint amusement as he was now standing behind you, arms gently snaking around your waist.

That caught you by surprise, your body jolting and dropping once more the item in your hands to produce a renewed splash on your clothes.

"God fuckin' dammit," you said through gritted teeth, regaining your composure by holding the sink's rim.

That brought a warm laugh out of the terrapin at first, but it soon fainted as he noticed your annoyed demeanor. Feeling the tension in your body, a soft rumble rose in his chest as he held you a little closer, lowering his head against yours and nuzzling your hair patiently. Slowly you could feel your bad mood drain out of your mind, a renewed sigh leaving you once more - this time from comfort. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to lean against the large terrapin, basking in his warmth and the feel of his large hands against your form.

"Hell of a day?" he asked softly.

"You have no idea..."

"I feel ya..." He paused, allowing himself to give a kiss at your temple. "Wanna talk about it?"

You smiled, slightly shaking your head.

"Now that you're here, I feel so much better already. I don't want to dwell into all that shit once again."

"Gotcha."

He gave one last squeeze around you before letting you go. Grabbing a kitchen towel nearby, he stationned himself to your side, eyeing the scene.

"Although, don't mind me as I'll be keepin' an eye on you for now. Wouldn't want you scrubbing any dishes out of existence or to soak yourself even more." He did lean a bit more towards you as he added: "Unless that's your plan and you have to remove everything you're wearin'...."

You flicked some water in his direction, both laughing. As you returned to your task, aided by Raph, you were somehow amazed to notice how fast he had been able to shift your mood. Even if you had first wanted to ditch the dishes for the night, with your boyfriend now hanging around it made the task so much easier and bearable. You were grateful for his presence and all issues felt so distant by now.... Some more soapy water splashed in your general direction - intentionally - a not-so-innocent "oops" leaving you. Now you just wanted to have some fun.

[dollslayer]

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

[tomtenadia]

Scary feelings - Rowaelin month day 1

Prompt: I just realised I am desperately in love with you

(I suck at titles)

----

Rowan Whitethorn was not a fan of crowds. Or people in general.

It was a Friday night and his flat was far too crowded for his own tastes, but he and his colleagues would take turns in organising get togethers and eventually his time came around. People might call him a loner and a grump but he just loved peace and quiet.

“Come on grampa, have fun.” Shouted Fenrys across the living room with a bottle of beer in his hands, offering one to hm as well. Rowan sighed heavily and joined the blonde man and plopped on the sofa ignoring the ruckus around him. He had already enough.

He was busy hating the evening when someone sat at his side: the smell of lemon and verbena familiar to his nostrils. He turned and saw Aelin sprawled on the couch and a beer in her hand. Most of the people were teachers working in the same high school. Rowan was the biology teacher and Aelin had recently been hired to be the new PE teacher after the previous one retired. She was friendly with everyone and he was positive that every single male teacher had a crush on her. She was gorgeous. Rowan had no issues admitting that. He had seen her once in shorts after one of her classes. Legs perfectly tanned and going on for days. Hair gold as the sun and the most amazing turquoise eyes he had ever seen, with a ring of gold in them. He had slammed against the wall and his students laughed at him that day. He had been dumbstruck, and in every other occasion they had to interact he had to work very hard to keep his cool. They were colleagues, they had to be professional.

“Good to see that you know how to chill, Whitethorn.” Her voice broke his reverie and when he turned he saw her taking a drink of her beer, her head tilted back and her neck exposed. Rowan stood quickly and moved away. What was happening to him? Why all of a sudden he felt the urge to lean forward and kiss the column of her neck, tracing his tongue along it and nip at the sweet spot at its base?

“You okay, man?” Asked Aedion who had noted him running away like a possessed person “did my cousin made lewd jokes again?”

Rowan leaned against the wall and shook his head “no, she is fine. I just needed to stand a bit. This is too much for me.”

Aedion patted his shoulder and left him alone and slowly his gaze returned to Aelin. She was talking to Fenrys and laughing at something that the young TA had said and something irrational rose in him. Damn, was he jealous?

She must have felt him staring because her head slowly turned and her gaze landed on him and the smile she gave him almost stopped his heart. He tried to smile back and failed and saw her raise an eyebrow at him as if in question at his reaction. Slowly he tried to regain control of his emotions, that was something he was good at, appear like an emotionless bastard. Wasn’t that the reason Lyria dumped him for another man? Because he was incapable of showing love and was just a block of ice who pretended to have feelings? He pushed back from the wall and walked to Lorcan. If Rowan had a reputation of being cold, no one beat Lorcan. He was the math teacher and probably one of the most hated ones at that.

“You look a mess.” Said the dark-haired man.

“You look like you are having fun instead. Very unusual for you.”

“I got my eyes on the small brunette near Galathynius, do you know her?”

“I think she is a friend of Aelin. She is called Elide if I remember the introductions.”

Lorcan took a sip of his beer and kept staring at the woman “well, she is definitely my type.” And with a powerful move Lorcan pushed away from the wall.

“Don’t fuck up.” Said Rowan to the man while he was walking away. Lorcan was not the most stable when it came to relationships.

*

He was alone on the balcony to enjoy fresh air and peace when a person joined him and leaned against the rail at his side.

Lemon verbena. He inhaled the scent and kept looking straight at Orynth at night.

“You seem off, Whitethorn.”

“I am okay,” he sipped the last of his beer and kept ignoring her, afraid of what he would do if he stared at her.

“Looks like the rumour are true.” She turned and her back was now against the rail, her arms at her chest.��

He allowed himself a peek and his chest tightened. She had a green dress with a puffy skirt and she was breathtaking. A deep urge to kiss rose in him.

“What rumours?” He said in a gruff voice.

“That you are a loner and a bit of a cranky old bastard.”

Rowan chuckled “I love my reputation. It keeps people away.”

“Who hurt you? Who made you like this?” She asked, moving a step closer to him.

Rowan stood motionless and stared in the depth of her blue eyes. How could she know? Only a handful of people knew how Lyria had crushed him. 

“She doesn’t know what she gave up.” Commented Aelin quietly.

Now confusion was clear on his face.

Aelin leaned forward and finished her beer “It’s just a mask. How do I know? Because I have one too. I am the happy easy going PE teacher who is lovable and chatty.” And her tone changed all of a sudden “my fiancee dumped me a week before our wedding. He found himself a newer version. It broke me and having a mask makes it easier to deal with people.” She confessed and Rowan could not look away from the pain in her face and tried to restrain himself from hugging her.

“Lyria left me for another man. Apparently I am incapable of love.”

Aelin gently took his hand “You just haven’t found the right person yet.” She squeezed it and then walked away leaving him alone once more. His heart raced madly in his chest

**

Going back to work after the party had been tragic. Rowan had spent the weekend thinking about Aelin and what she had told him. Thinking as well at the pesky feeling that had slowly started to creep up. Because the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he was falling for her. He had been since the beginning when she joined the team of professors. She was incredible, and funny and apparently very caring as well. The previous day he had seen her in the school yard consoling two young teenagers who were distressed and crying in her arms. He had followed the scene from the distance and that’s when it hit him. He was in love with her. Madly. He had tried to deny the feeling for a while and it worked until that damned party. Until that moment on the balcony. 

He walked back to his class and sat at his desk trying to ignore the pounding of his chest. Pushing away the realisation that his feeling for Aelin went deeper than he thought.

A deep sigh of relief left him when the next class walked in the room. 

Later he was on his way to the break room, a book in his hands and his messenger bag strapped on his shoulder when he crashed into someone.

“What the heck.” Said the outraged female voice.

Rowan looked down and saw Aelin crouched down collecting scattered papers. He kneeled quickly and helped her “I am sorry.”

“Do you always walk and read?”

“Most times,” he smiled “I am usually better at knowing what goes around me.” He passed her the last few papers and stood. Aelin was now in front of him “come, have lunch with me.”

Rowan was taken aback by the offer. He made a step for the teachers room, but Aelin grabbed his hand “come with me, I know a better place.”

Silently he followed her, realising that he would probably follow her no matter what. 

Hand in hand they walked around the ground until Aelin stopped in a quiet corner of the yard and sat under an oak tree. It was a nice spring day and the weather was turning warm.

Aelin sat down, back against the trunk and he stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Eventually he took a seat at her side and took out his lunch from the bag: a chicken salad that contained more vegetables than chicken.

Aelin looked at the tub and its contents in disgust.

“That’s why you are always grumpy… if my lunch looked that sad, I’d be grumpy to.” And she extracted a plastic tub containing an obscene portion of lasagna “my mum made it for me the other day. I went to hers for lunch and she cooked for an army.”

She stabbed the food with a fork and then turned it to him “try it.”

Rowan looked at her puzzled.

“Come on Whitethorn, I don’t have the plague. Give it a go.”

Rowan caved and took the bite she offered. The food was amazing and found himself smiling in satisfaction.

“Look, I made you smile and it made you all the way more handsome.”

His eyes popped open in surprise at her comment.

Aelin laughed and the sound of her happiness brought him joy. He’d do anything to see her smile. Her face would lit in up in the most stunning way. Gods, he was in far, far deeper than he thought.

“What?” She asked at her expression.

“You are the most stunning woman I ever met.” He said and then realised that he had uttered those words out loud. Shit. 

She smiled again and took another bite and Rowan decided it was now or never. He had to tell her and also brace for a crushing rejection. There was no way she was into him. She could have every man, why would she choose him?

He cleared his voice “I am in love with you,” he admitted, looking in her eyes “I think I have been for a while but it dawned on me at that party at my flat. You are stunning, intelligent, fierce, caring and funny and I think and I am totally and utterly in love with you.”

She placed her plastic container on the side and he thought he had just ruined everything.

“Go on,” was all she said “let it all out.”

“I promised myself never again. It was not worth it. But then you arrived and threw that to the winds.” He ran a hand through his hair “I was even jealous of you talking to Fenrys at the party. That’s why I kept to myself. I could finally put a label on my feelings and it scared me. I was never good at dealing with emotions and probably everyone is right, I am a cold heartless bastard.”

“Maybe,” she said brushing his hair “but in front of me I see a man who can be very capable of love if the right person comes along.”

Rowan was again speechless and his eyes closed on instinct at the feeling of her hand brushing his hair.

“Say it again.”

His eyes popped open in a question and Aelin nodded.

“I am desperately in love with you.”

She smiled again and his breath hitched.

“And what are we going to do about that professor Whitethorn?”

“Maybe I can take you out to dinner?”

Aelin leaned forward to kiss his cheek “I’d love that very much.”

And in that instant he realised that for her… for her he could try again.

[shoichee]

okok hc or fic: reader was teiko’s “head” manager(?) and her talent was being a medic (if someone gets injured they’re back on the court in under a minute type thing) and training plans. suddenly momoi’s talent blooms, she starts working w/ everyone in the team (+ reader’s crush akashi) and people think she’s a better manager than reader. because of this, she overworks + collapses in front of her best friends kuroko + kise (don’t let akashi know yet i have plans for that 👀)

HELLO? YES OFFICER? I JUST FOUND A BANGER REQUEST RIGHT HERE? YOUR BRAIN IS SO BIG AND SEXY IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS🏃🏻‍♀️💨 part 2 here and part 3 here AND update: part 4 here

Akashi x Reader

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

you had a knack of being a natural chiropractor in loosening up tense muscles instantly (for more fluid play) or easily putting in back dislocated joints

basically you have crackhands

in your free time as a hobby and a job as the “head manager” (that Akashi announced to the team himself), you’d often bury yourself in anatomy studies and gym plans on the internet and databases to review over Akashi’s team training routines to see if they were effective and safe; oftentimes, you’d return back with improved plans, and as time went on, Akashi entrusted you with creating the plans yourself completely

you took on the job so eagerly to impress the Teiko captain, if you were being honest to yourself

your enthusiasm even inspires Momoi, Teiko’s other manager, to work harder

no one in Teiko knows physiology better than you, and as expected, it was also your best subject along with health

Kise often looks at you in horror and respect at how you don’t cringe/flinch at the loud cracks resonating across the room or court when players come to you for instant relief (the origin story of how he came to call you (y/n)-cchi was the very fact that you manage to put back his dislocated shoulder in 3 seconds flat one game)

when Kuroko first joined the 1st-string, he was a walking magnet for injuries, and you ended up being there for him every single time… nosebleeds? check. sprained ankle? check. nausea from over exhaustion? check.

both you and Kuroko relish in the fact that everyone in the team can never understand how the both of you do some incredible things with your hands

both of you being quite dexterous, you both often teach each other your specialties for fun; it’s almost shocking to see Kuroko effortlessly loosening up a stress knot and you pulling off a well-done palm pass

you admit, you do juggle a lot of responsibilities… from being a makeshift nurse, to a chiropractor, to a budget gym coach, and even to being moral support

Momoi often reminds you to take breaks being the caring person that she is

you often showed her the ropes and tricks of being a manager, on top of your duties, and you find it really endearing that she’s so earnest in learning from you

even if you enjoyed doing what you do, part of the massive workload is to try to get into Akashi’s good graces

talking to him about basketball duties is easier to achieve than talking to him outside of the extracurricular

you might be a tad bit insecure about it; after all, what middle schooler is already so accomplished in academics, sports, and everything you could think of? wasn’t he also studying to take over his father’s company??

to you, who only starred as Teiko’s humble manager, it felt hard trying to establish common ground for conversation outside of basketball

so you stuck to working hard at your position, hoping that your work ethic would get his attention one day; you were a firm believer of actions over words, so you hoped your actions would come off as genuine

picture you and Momoi running across campus with stacks of papers for the team… it makes most of the teammates’ hearts melt at the sight

your work certainly got you praises from other teammates, but out of all players, Kise was the one who figured out your motive

you felt absolutely morbid; to think that Kise, of all people, would figure you out like the back of his hand

Kise being sweet as he is, offers to help you get with the captain but you merely prompted to threaten to break his arm if he spilled your crush to anyone else

“(y/n)-cchi… I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Kise?”

“It’s really cool that you’re working so tirelessly for the team, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason why you work so hard.”

“O-Of course I do! I want to see you guys all succeed!”

“Then I’m curious as to why you always look at Akashicchi—o-ow, ow, ow!! (y/n)-cchi, I’m sorry! So can you please let go of my—ow!”

“H-How did you know?!”

“I-It was as obvious as day, (y/n)-cchi! I’m pretty sure even Kurokocchi found out about this before I did!”

“N-No way!!”

“Tell you what, I’m super duper knowledgeable in this stuff! You can count on me for this sort of advice—OW!”

spoiler alert: Kise was right in that Kuroko definitely noticed your attraction to Akashi before anyone else… he just never brought it up to you

one day, Kuroko comes up to you to whisper:

“(y/n)-san, have you realized that Akashi-kun has been observing you recently during practice?”

“W-Wait! Is he looking over here right now?”

“Not that I think. He’s occupied with the coach right now.”

“D-Do you think this is a good sign?”

Kuroko gives you a small smile before he replies, “I would like to think so. Keep working hard, (y/n)-san.”

and you do, you’re constantly on top of your game for the next season until Momoi suddenly gets more recognition for her “precognitive defense” skills

her newfound talent was extraordinary and never-before-seen, and her ability became more critical to Teiko’s victories than your own skills

you were happy and proud for her, because after all, her achievements were extremely deserving to be praised

it’s only when some 1st-string players started making offhand comments about how you weren’t really needed in the 1st-string and was more suited to the lower strings that placed seeds of doubt into you

these people would often compare you to Momoi in how she improved much more despite you being in the team for longer

there’s also talk about how your skills are more useful for 2nd-string and 3rd-string players because Momoi’s ability is already sufficient enough for Teiko’s starters

after all, how would a player even be injured if they can predict their opponents’ moves to avoid such incidents?

there’s also the fact that Akashi has been calling Momoi more frequently to research on upcoming teams for analytical data because her talent has become very useful to ensuring victory

the same peers and adults who gave you praise were the same people who began to ignore you or dismiss you; that being said, the collective change in attitude is definitely subtle enough that it would fly under most people’s radars

Kuroko was the first to notice and defend you against a small group of players who were bold enough to badmouth you in the gym

Kise would find out a little later about the somewhat unpleasant gossip about you and would pull the “no you” reverse card, returning back with MEANER underhanded comments that would send these shit talkers CRYING HOME (manga Kise strikes here unexpectedly eh?)

Murasakibara is someone who would be slightly uncomfortable with the gossip about you, especially since you’ve always been so helpful and kind to the team and himself; he’d either leave the room himself or easily scare them away with his looming height and presence without saying a single word when he enters the room “minding his own business”

Midorima is a bystander judging from how he’s reacted to the Teiko dynamic changes in the actual show // he, of course, wouldn’t like the nasty talk about you but would actually mind his own business, choosing to focus on himself and what he has to do to contribute to his team; he assumes that you would work hard the same way he is and let your contributions do the talking

now Akashi surprisingly wouldn’t hear much of the gossip, since his presence alone SHUTS them up and commit to their practices like normal; after all, it’s very clear that Akashi doesn’t tolerate this type of behavior in the team (example: Haizaki), and it’s more apparent that he wouldn’t hesitate to drop kick them out especially since he has a soft spot for you (which Kise never fails to bring this up to you, but you think he’s reaching too much into it) // TLDR; the teammates mostly have the common sense to not utter anything bad about you… maybe one kid would slip out and get punished for “bad sportsmanship,” but Akashi merely assumes that it’s just one bad apple and not necessarily… the many others as well

Aomine???? bro he ain’t even at practice wdym (HELPPP LMAOO) // jokes aside, if he catches wind of players shit-talking outside of the gym… say at the convenience store or when he’s walking home or something, well… they wouldn’t have a good time…

Momoi simply chastises the gossipers when they try to talk shit on you to make Momoi herself look good, and it leaves? such? a? horrible? taste? like, she wants to believe that they’re just really poor jokes and not what they really believe in, and the teammates merely reassure her that they’re just bad jokes and that they “wouldn’t do it again;” poor Momoi wholeheartedly believes them

the weird talks about Momoi being “the better manager” just signalled to you that you haven’t contributed enough to the team yet, and it motivated you to work even harder

oddly, you weren’t jealous of the fact that Momoi was receiving more positive attention than you

you were more afraid of the fact that you were going to get left behind, and this fear only tightened its hold on you when more teammates (who used to talk to you a lot) have changed their tunes when they speak with you now, compared to them talking to Momoi

and you felt that the Generation of Miracles would do the same too… including Akashi

it wasn’t an irrational fear for you because he’s already been calling Momoi a lot more frequently for help than you recently

so you even offered to mop the gym floors after practice, offered to stay later than usual to be the one to lock up the gym for anyone (cough, Kuroko) who wanted to practice whenever they wanted

at one point, you even tried to do what Momoi does: researching on upcoming teams and making your own predictions (that didn’t really work, and that cost you a few nights’ worth of sleep every single time)

not to mention that you still had regular school like any other student? you were the epitome of a mess

Kuroko was with you in the empty gym, you putting away the extra basketballs in the storage closet while he practiced his dribbling, until he heard a crash in there and a few basketballs rolled out the door

you collapsed right when you rolled in the basketball cart

POOR KUROKO HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO // he just tries to give you a piggyback ride as he abandons his plans of practice and tries to jog to the nearest local clinic

that’s where he bumped into Kise, who was heading home after an evening shoot when he saw the two of you

chaos ensue as Kise freaks out and Kuroko had to calm him down himself after answering the never-ending questions

at least the doctor there gave relieving news that you only collapsed from over-exhaustion and that the bruises from the fall were very faint

Kise makes a joke to Kuroko about, “What’s with you and (y/n)-cchi falling to the floor and fainting? You guys can’t be that alike.”

when you shortly regain consciousness, you were met with a… very stern Kuroko and Kise, who were both ready to hear your explanation and to scold you to oblivion

to your surprise, they were understanding; Kuroko understands the feeling of not being enough and working hard to meet other people’s expectations, and Kise understands the struggle of juggling multiple things in his schedule (come on, student, athlete, and model?)

they still scolded your ears off:

“(y/n)-san, you idiot. Why didn’t you ask anyone to help out?”

“That’s…”

“(y/n)-cchi, do you think we’re undependable?!”

“Er, no, that’s…”

you were still dizzy from the fall and the lack of proper sleep (and maybe nutrition if we’re being honest), and you were just a ball of stress

you kind of begged your best friends not to tell a SOUL to anyone about this incident, especially to Akashi… you didn’t want to look even more incapable in his eyes than you already were

they do agree on one condition: for you to take AT LEAST a day or two off school to completely recover and rest up (you reluctantly agree; besides how were you going to explain the bruises that can’t be covered to your peers?)

HELP WHY ARE KISE AND KUROKO THE BEST LIARS TOGETHER ON CAMPUS LITERALLY NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING… except Akashi, the ever sharp captain, felt something was amiss

especially since some Teiko players emanated a feeling of relief at the news of you not being here that day, or the next

Akashi would play detective sleuth and find out what’s really going on sooner or later

End Note: gonna cut this off here b/c I KNOW this anon got a juicy part two i FEEL IT

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​ @dunderr​ @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​ @mbpokemonrulez​  @oloreaa​ @red-leaders​ @speakerforthedead0​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @theflightytemptressadventure​ @ubri812​ @zoemariefit​​

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face. 

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no. 

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback. 

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.  

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing. 

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor. 

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand. 

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

[chudleycanonficfest]

Took Far Longer Than It Should've

Day 9, Story #1 is by CandyMan91

Title: Took Far Longer Than It Should've Author: CandyMan91 Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Prompt: Soulmate AU Rating: General Audiences

A calm and quiet morning Ron Weasley woke up like it was any other day, except it wasn’t any other day, it was his birthday. Excitedly, he walked down the stairs in his too-short pyjamas that once belonged to his brother Charlie and settled down at the dinner table. 

His mother had made him his favorite, pancakes with a side of bacon and pumpkin juice. As they sang happy birthday Ron suddenly felt a slight warm sensation on his left wrist, he dismissed it as nervousness or perhaps hunger. As he reached for the syrup the left sleeve of his pyjama shirt rolled up.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny sitting on the chair on the left of Ron.

“What’s what?” asked Ron as he poured the syrup over his pancakes.

“That mark on your wrist,” Ron turned his wrist over and indeed there was a stranger mark on his wrist. It looked to be a dog similar to a Crup, except it was missing its forked tail, a Jack Russel terrier if Ron was correct. There used to be one at Uncle Bilius’s place back when he was alive. 

However, there was also a different mark, unlike the other which was a dark maroon. This one looked like a faint periwinkle blue. It was also not a dog, but instead an otter. It looked as if the dog was chasing the otter, but not like a hunter chasing its prey, but like a playmate.

This conversation was brought to their mother’s attention and as she settled her eyes on Ron’s stranger mark she gasped. 

“Arthur!” she said in a loud voice. Ron’s father’s eyes shot up from his copy of the Daily Prophet, and as he saw the random mark on Ron’s wrist, his eyes widened beyond what Ron thought was possible. He looked at his wife as if to ask what to do, before he cleared his throat and settled down the newspaper.

“Listen son,” said his father. “There are special people in the magical world, more so in certain ways than if I may say powerful wizards like Albus Dumbledore.” Ron nodded, not getting his father’s explanation. “When these people turn 10 years of age, something weird occurs to them. They like you get marks.”

Ron’s eyes nearly bulged out of their skull, was his father serious? Was he really more special than the most powerful wizard since Merlin?

“They are known as soulmates,” said his father. “They are people who are destined to belong to one another. That mark you have on your wrist is or will appear on your soulmate at 10 years of age.” 

So that was it. He had the same mark as another person, and according to his father that person and he were destined to be together. Ron could see by his parents’ faces that although it seemed like good news, they weren’t necessarily good ones.

“But,” said his mother. “You see Ronnie, some people are quite jealous or confused about this. When it’s time for you to grow up and get a girlfriend or a boyfriend, they won’t necessarily be your soulmate. And as such they won’t even bother staying with you, because to them someone with a soulmate is as good as stolen.”

Ron gulped, was that what made him so special? A sort of brand that turned him into some sort of freak?

“If you want to we can hide it of course,” said his mother hurriedly as he saw his face fall at the news. Ron couldn’t have nodded faster. Her mother went to her room and returned with Bill's old leather wristband. As she wrapped it around his mark he couldn’t help but ask.

“How will I know when I meet them?” 

His mother gave him a warm encouraging smile. “You just will.”

On a simple house in Hampstead Hermione Granger couldn’t believe it. It was her birthday, not only on a Saturday giving her free time to read any book she liked and avoid her teasing and mocking classmates, but a witch had just turned into a cat in front of her. She couldn’t believe it, she was a witch, that’s why she could never fit in. She was special, and she was going to a place with special people like her.

It was her father who had brought up the thing as they had decided to dub it. 

“Is that why Hermione has that peculiar mark on her wrist?” Professor McGonagall, if Hermione was correct, looked strangely at her father. Her mother put her hand on Hermione’s back, who felt her cheeks go pink at the attention. She removed the ribbon she used to hide the thing.

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened as they saw a periwinkle blue otter being playfully chased by a Jack Russel terrier, unlike the otter the dog was a faint dark red or maroon.

“Oh my,” escaped from her mouth, before she realized it.

“Oh my?” repeated Hermione���s mother.

Professor McGonagall proceeded to explain everything she could about Soulmates, how they worked, their view in the wizarding world, as she continued to speak fear began to set in Hermione. Of course it wouldn't be that simple, as she asked what they could do the old witch suggested hiding the mark until she was older. It looked like Hermione would have to wear her red ribbon for a while longer.

Ron Weasley was talking to Harry Potter and not only that, but it seemed that he liked him as much as Ron was beginning to like the legendary boy. As he brandished his wand about to show his new friend a spell that hopefully turned his old grey rat yellow he was interrupted by the arrival of a girl.

She had bushy brown hair, a button nose, along with buck teeth, but she was still pretty. She has asked the same question as the other boy that had come through moments ago, as their eyes met Ron felt a tug in his stomach and he had to gulp and look away when he thought he was about to blush under her gaze. He missed as she too settled her gaze away from him.

He cleared his throat and hoped Fred and George hadn’t tricked him.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.” he said, and nothing happened. He felt incredibly embarrassed and the pretty girl wasn’t making it any easier.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good is it?” And Ron stopped listening after she started rambling on. Maybe looks were deceiving as his mother said, as the pretty witch looked to be everything but sociable. “–I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” 

“I’m Ron Weasley”

She didn’t know what she had done wrong, she was trying to help him. Perhaps, she had been a tad bossy or maybe she could have phrased it a bit better, but was she really as annoying in the Wizarding World as she was in the Muggle one. Perhaps, her classmates hadn’t been wrong about her.

And she wondered just why Ron’s words had hurt her more than any other. It had hurt enough for her to break down and go to the girl’s bathroom and miss not only her classes, but the Hallowe’en Feast as well.

As Hermione got out of the bathroom stall she was faced with horror as a troll was right in front of her, its foul smell filling the bathroom. She screamed, and then the door banged open. Had the teachers come for her? But, she only heard a slight familiar voice… and Ron’s voice.

As the troll’s club fell down on its small head and the three went back to the Gryffindor Tower they all thanked each other and went to bed. Why hadn’t she recognized Harry’s voice, but Ron’s voice was something like the voice of an old friend? The boy barely tolerated her, and he made no attempt at hiding it.

As she woke up the next morning she joined Harry and Ron on their way to breakfast. Ron went to talk to his brothers about something she hadn’t heard clearly leaving her alone with Harry.

“Thank you,” she said. “Again, for saving me… If you hadn’t got there in time…” she didn’t finish her sentence as a shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the beast.

“You should thank Ron,” said Harry to Hermione’s surprise. Her expression must have told Harry something because the next moment he was explaining himself. “I reminded him that you were still in the bathroom, and you didn’t know.” The green-eyed boy looked at the back of his ginger best friend. “Never saw anyone run that fast.” 

Hermione too looked at the back of Ron, but instead of admiration as Harry had shown her cheeks went pink.

They were at a DA meeting, she looked as beautiful as ever of course. They were practicing their Patronus charm, Ron was having a hard time making it Corporeal, for the time being he could only get a wisp of smoke. He tried focusing on his happiest memories, but somehow most of them ended up with Hermione’s face.

But, that would only remind him of the truth, that he had a soulmate somewhere in the world, that destiny had set to screw him up with a bird or a bloke somewhere in the world, that no matter how much he wanted to he could never have what he so wanted, but he couldn’t control himself. He looked at her wild set of brown curls, her beautiful plump lips, her button nose and her beautiful brown eyes. To hell with his soulmate, if he had to carve the mark out of his skin with a knife he would bloody do so if it meant having Hermione.

Suddenly, there was applause and cheering in the room. Ron turned his head and his eyes just couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Hermione had successfully conjured her Patronus, but that wasn’t what shocked Ron, her patronus was an otter. She looked up at him, and seeing him had made her blush as she turned her gaze away from him.

An unrelenting barrage of happiness coursed through him and with the knowledge that Hermione Granger of all people was his soulmate he conjured his own Patronus.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he casted and a Jack Russell Terrier shot out of his wand and ran around the Room of Requirement, there was another round of applause which was now directed to him. It ran around the room and started chasing around Hermione’s otter, it playfully ran behind the other Patronus and the otter started swimming in the air as Ron’s terrier happily barked at it.

Ron set his eyes back to Hermione who looked as shocked as he had felt moments before, Ron gulped and unwrapped his old leather wristband that he had always been careful to use as a way to cover his mark. The wristband fell to the floor and his mark was available to everyone in the room, with all his Gryffindor courage he walked across the room towards her and showed her his wrist.

The otter which had been a faint periwinkle blue seemed to shine as it was no longer translucent. Hermione gasped as he looked from his wrist back at his eyes. She unlaced that red ribbon she always wore in her right wrist and the same mark appeared. They looked back at each other, and something shunned bright in their eyes, Ron couldn’t take it anymore and he put his lips to hers. He could sense her momentary surprise, before he felt her arms wrapped around his neck.

The gasps, the cheers, everything seemed to pass over their heads. As they detached the look that they had for each other told Ron something.

It Took Far Longer Than It Should've.

[mqgriett]

Crosshair- It Won’t Stop

Prompt: “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” and “I didn’t know where else to go” requested by @bluehumanknightzine !! Thank you so much for the requested

Pairings: Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Warnings: blood and being shot

Summary: Crosshair will never pass up on an opportunity to teach a shiny a lesson, so when someone insults Echo he has to take charge. It doesn’t always go as planned.

Notes: this is based off of @sorry-but-no-sorry ‘s art!! Please go check them out!!

79’s was basically deserted, mainly because it was pushing 0300 in the morning, but Crosshair couldn’t sleep. Not after what had happened earlier that night. 

Typically the callus sniper wasn’t easily pissed off. Odd looks and judgemental whispers from regs was something he was used to by now. He developed thick skin, learned to just enjoy a night of drinking with his brothers and let loose a little. He was used to the rude remarks, Echo wasn’t. 

None of the regs recognized him anymore, his robotic legs and the bolts screwed into his head along with his pale skin made him difficult to recognize. The normal clones would never intentionally bully the lost 501st member, but they would happily bully a bad batch member. 

Crosshair scanned the room for the 312th trooper, knowing he would still be here. Worst thing was, the trooper was a shiny, and he had only identified his battalion by association. 

Sure enough, he was still in the back booth, lips practically swallowing a young twi’lek dancer. He rolled his eyes, strutting over to the pair in the back. 

The shiny seemed to feel Cross’s icy presence, taking a break from his makeout with the dancer to move out of the booth. 

“Back so soon?” asked the trooper, crossing his small arms and jutting his chin out. 

The sniper of Clone Force 99 didn’t waste any time with small talk, he withdrew his fist and landed a punch to the jaw of the shinty. It was so strong that it even knocked the reg back, the only thing that was preventing him from falling to the ground was catching himself on the table. 

The clone rubbed his jaw, eyebrows arching to form a cold smirk on his face. “Lose a touch of common sense in your test tube? Eh, defect?” he grumbled. 

Crosshair didn’t reply and calmly pulled a toothpick from his pocket, sticking it in his mouth and allowing it to methodically roll from side to side. He prepared to charge, but what he didn’t expect was for the shiny to pick up his blaster and shoot him in the side of the stomach where his armor didn’t cover. 

Cross stumbled backwards, hand already gripping the underside of his stomach. 

The trooper had no clue what he had done, he had reacted out of pure instinct and hadn’t calculated the consequences when he fired. He froze momentarily, proceeding to toss the blaster to the side and sprint out of 79’s. 

Crosshair still couldn’t believe what had happened. Even as he started down at the crimson liquid beginning to stain his blacks, he refused that he had been shot. 

He couldn’t go back to the Marauder, he wouldn’t make it back alive. 

There was only one other person on Coruscant he knew he could get to before bleeding out. 

***

At first you thought it was a dream, when you heard the knock at your door. You rolled onto your opposite side, flipping the silk pillow to have the cold side press against your face. 

Another knock made its way to your bedroom. 

If there’s a third then I’ll get up,

Five seconds pass, and the third knock sounds weaker than the first two. 

Swinging your legs off the side of the bed, you reach for your housecoat and move a few pieces of hair out of your face. “Coming!” you shouted, voice a little groggy.

As you enter the living room, you catch a glance at the clock and see how late it is. 

The small droid in your room beeps in attention, it’s different colored panels lighting up. “It’s alright R4, I’ll see who it is.” 

R4 chirps in response, rolling to the kitchen and out of view. 

You opened the doors to your room, the cold chill of the hallway hitting your bare legs. Squinting, you could hardly make out the figure in front of you. “Crosshair?” You yawned, wrapping your robe around your torso. 

His words sounded difficult to push out, “I’m sorry.” He sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, something falling and hitting your foot. 

“For waking me up?” you responded tiredly, reaching down to pick up whatever he dropped. 

As your hand touched the fallen toothpick, you found that something was dripping from his armor. At first you perceived it to be nothing but sweat; however, the putrid smell that met your nose told you otherwise. 

“R4 turn the lights on.” You said sternly, within milliseconds you could fully see him standing in front of you. 

“Shit.” You mumbled, finally seeing the huge gash in his stomach. 

His entire face was pale and he was obviously nauseous, yet he still refused to let you help him onto the couch. He stumbled his way to the sofa, collapsing once he got there. Every movement that Cross produced was followed by a muffled groan or wince.

You crouched down next to him, starting at ripping all of his armor off while calling out to your droid, “R4, get me the emergency bag.” 

Your hands tore the soiled fabric away from his torso, leaving him with nothing but a sad excuse of a shirt and his pants. “Dank Farrik, Cross.” You said out of pure frustration, seeing just how bad the wound was. 

His head lulled to the side, a small stream of tears falling down the side of his face as his eyes closed. 

“Crosshair, no.” You reached up and pinched his chin, jerking his head to face you. It woke him up, “hey, look at me. Focus on me alright? I need you to tell me what happened.” You were no medic, but every senator was required to know basic medical skills. 

“79’s,” he began as R4 handed you a bottle of alcohol, Cross winced as you poured it onto the gash and shifted uncomfortably, “shiny made-“ he groaned loudly, “- shiny made fun of echo.” His brother’s name was clouded by his shaky breathing as you poured more alcohol. 

“What’d he say?” 

You placed a clean rag on top of his wound, cleaning around it as he tried to continue, “Went back and he shot me.” He ignored your previous question, not wanting to say it out loud. 

“This is going to hurt, but you need to stay still.” You commanded, the threaded needle lingering over the exposed and seared skin. 

Without looking up, you heard him speak again, “what’s happening?” 

“You’re bleeding out.” You sighed, “I need to give you stitches.” 

“No, this,” he wiped his face with his bare hand, examining the clear liquid dripping down his palm. 

“You’re crying, you got shot.” 

He shook his head and tried to sit up, “no, what is happening? This isn’t possible.” He wiped his face again, over and over. “It won’t stop,” he sobbed, “why won’t it stop?” 

You wanted to console him, but you had to get this gash closed. You stuck the needle through his skin, and it was almost like he didn’t feel it due to how preoccupied he was with the fact that he was crying. 

Cutting the thread with your teeth, you handed the needle back to R4 and placed a strip of bacta over his wound. “R4 comm Tech. Tell him to come down here immed-“

“No!” Cross jumped, “he can’t see me like this.” 

You placed your hand on his knee, “he’s seen you hurt thousands of times.” 

He pointed to his face, “Like this.”

His eyes and cheeks were stained red from crying. Blood was dried in his hair and it stained all of his body. You knew how embarrassed he felt because he understood how helpless and weak he looked in the moment.  

You calmed your tone, not wanting him to jump again and possibly burst the stitches, “R4, comm Tech that Crosshair drunkenly stumbled to my quarters in the senate building and is now sleeping on my couch.” 

Beeping in approval, your small Astro droid excused himself to your room to fulfill his duties. 

Your hands would most definitely be tinted red tomorrow morning, rather this morning, at your meeting with Bail Organa. 

Wiping your forehead, you stood back up to inspect the damage that had been done. 

Your white couch was now a lovely red tie-dye, as was your white nightgown. 

Crosshair refused to look at you, “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“I’m glad you came here.” You ran your hand up and down his thigh, just as a gentle touch to remind him that you were still there. 

“I need a shower.” he mumbled. That was his way of asking you to help him get cleaned up. 

Carefully, you helped him to the refresher. Your back was turned to him as you drew a bath, wanting to give him as much privacy as possible as he undressed. You poured a small amount of salts in the water, to help rid his body of any bacteria that had already begun to settle in his wound. He rejected your offer to help him into the bathtub, his ego not allowing him to accept. 

You sat behind the marble tub, just so you could see the back of him. Placing your hand on his forehead, you gently pulled his head back and poured water over hair. His dusty green eyes fluttered shut each time you did this, his shoulders finally relaxing. 

Once his hair was rid of blood, you moved onto his face. You wetened a clean cloth, and benevolently wiped it under his eyes and neck. He sighed heavily, “he called him a deficient defect.” His jaw clenched under your grip. 

You froze momentarily, feeling your own anger bubble up at the thought of Echo having to hear that. Echo had always been tough, but you knew that that probably hurt him. If it didn’t, Cross wouldn’t have gone back at 0300 to teach the shiny a lesson. 

After wiping the final strip of blood off of him, you turned your head and helped Crosshair up. He wrapped a towel around his waist, flinching as it touched the wound. Luckily the medicated bandage on top of it kept it numb, making it easier for him to do things on his own. 

It wasn’t unusual for the bad batch to randomly stop by whenever they were on Coruscant. When General Kenobi would ask for their aide in a mission they often needed to wait a few nights for approval from the council. This usually led to all five of them sleeping in your bed with you. In the morning Hunter and Tech were frequently found on the floor though. 

You set a fresh set of black pajamas on the edge of your bed for Crosshair, leaving him in your as you went to choose a new nightgown from your closet. You chose the same sleepwear you had on now, just in black and not covered in blood. 

It felt immaculate to shower, and with enough scrubbing all of the blood successfully left your hands. 

Crosshair had already situated himself on your bed, flicking through the holodramas you had recorded. You wrung the excess water from your hair, tossing the dirty nightgown into the trash can and doing the same with the towel once you were finished. 

Once you were comfortable, Crosshair turned his head towards you while his eyes were still fixated on the holo. “What’s the one you, Tech, and Wrecker watch?” 

You raised an eyebrow, “I thought you said it was annoying.” 

He didn’t answer, facing his head back towards the colorful projection. 

“Ails of Alderaan.” you smiled, pointing to the title he was about to skip. 

Despite his lack of core strength in the moment, he still managed to pull the blanket underneath you to get you closer to him. He gently pressed his head on your shoulder, gingerly touching at your fingers before intertwining them with his own. “Don’t tell the boys, please.” 

Crosshair wouldn’t care if you told them he was shot, he was referring to the fact that he cried earlier. 

You moved your head to the side and kissed his temple, “I won’t.”