#literally hitting my head against a wall and hoping for a head wound that sets me back 10 years

[piratekane]

this country is… not the vibe

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow, Day 4

Lost

I feel like we really need to talk more about how the Lost Woods are a concept as beautiful as it is terrifying actually.

Wild/BOTW/TOTK Link fans, this one's for you and brought by my severe sleep deprivation, enough caffeine to kill a grown woman with less spite and my medieval literature/narrative/poetry teacher who motivated me through the entire creative process via helping me throw ideas at the wall even as all of the essays I gotta turn in are going to make me late in posting Sage. *laughs hysterically, immediately collapses*

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, and it's up to interpretation what's going down on this one. And can also be read in or outside of an LU context, I'm leaving it vague both on purpose and because of sleep deprivation lol.

Of all places you could say you most intimately did not wish to be alone after being separated from the Chain, the Lost Woods of literally any era but specially Wild’s would definitely be on your top three at a pristine number one.

Really, if you weren’t currently being stalked through the darkened, shadowed weald of the once welcoming evergreen home of both the Minish and Kokiri, whom you knew could be much, much more beautiful lovely (it did aid in raising a good chunk of your beloved heroes, after all) and with your heart working with all the urgency of a wounded deer being chased by a wolf. You’d almost commend it for it’s choice in setting this time.

Keyword being almost, for it compared naught to the sheer and utter terror that burned through your every sinew, marrow and veins at the accuracy of that statement, and the implication that your nebulous and hauntingly familiar current hunter grew ever more clever each passing second of your adventure.

You ran, ran and ran through the living woods, trying desperately to find any possible landmark, an oddly shaped tree, one of the torches or the remain of the skeletons from the old, ruined iterations of the Temple of Time from long bygone eras that the forest had reclaimed, or the hint of the breeze soft whispers from the echoes of the Kokiri or the elated branch rattle giggling laughter of the Skull Children. At this point you’d take even the the mad, beast like howling of the Stalfos or the tortured wailing of Poes, somewhere between vesania tainted laughter and the primal, feral pleading for one’s survival that shook you to the marrow.

There was no such symphony now, the woods as silent as a grave.

(The hauting ground of so, so many that it did not love or could not hold onto anymore, whispered a corner of your mind, and it sounded like the Shadow, with it’s ominous phlegmatic hissing, twisted amusement and sadistic brutality all in one.)

Your arm had long gone numb, broken under the impossible force held by the beast of sulfur and obsidian that the world itself rebelled against warring at it’s very existence as it roared it’s wrath back at it, the Goddesses, Hylia and Demise and your heroes and princesses caught in the middle of divine design, your legs giving out under the weight of your exhaustion, you tasted copper from the wound on your head dripping down your lips but that did not stop you. Would not stop you, couldn’t stop you.

You grit your teeth so hard against the shout that wanted to tear it’s way out of your throat as you barely kept yourself from hitting your head, diverting your momentum against an old, lonely tree. Your blood sinking into the wood, good, better it than Dark Link.

You were tired, you were exhausted, you swore you could hear a growl among the melancholy of the mist. You hoped the shade did not manage to track you down as you made sure not to leave a trail of blood, but something tells you that it wouldn’t need it to track you even with the faint moonlight barely giving enough aid in your own quest to find it before it found you with your only, laughable weapon being an old arrow you’ve pilfered from a long decomposed corpse almost falling from your white knuckled grip.

You didn’t want to die, you needed to survive.

You though of the Chain, your lovely, chaotic, kind boys, of Sky’s ever ecompassing kindness and Four’s brilliant cleverness, Time’s quiet comfort and Legend’s fierce hidden gentleness and Wind’s trailblazing joy, Hyrule’s tender sweetness and Warrior’s warm protectiveness and Wild’s beautiful adoration for life.

You missed them, and it was likely you wouldn’t see them again, that more than anything hurt more than all of your wounds combined.

You try to push yourself up, to move, to live, to keep moving forward, caring not for the stillness of the glade. Barely noticing the sudden silence as you almost pitched forward once again, stumbling onto the earth as your grip onto your makeshift weapon finally gave out-

Only for a pair of arms to catch you, steady, magnolias and rosemary, petrichor from untamed, ancient Hyrule. A bright Sheikah cerulean tunic and a navy cloak falling over darkned boots.

You freeze, hands twitching, it couldn’t be an illusion. You’ve seen plenty in the corner of your eye as you traversed through the woods, attempting to lead you astray. None of them were solid, many of them weren’t quite as cold as this, whoever was holding you.

But it couldn't be real either, it shouldn't.

“Link...?”, came your tired rasp, you felt as if you’ve swallowed sand (briefly, you wondered if the taste of flowers on the back of your tongue mixing with the copper of the liquid of life in your veins was the reason. Then resolved yourself not to think about it), your traitorous body succumbing to exhaustion as the stranger gently held you up (friend, friend, but it couldn’t be, Wild tried to hold onto you, the memory of his desperation scorching under your eyelids like a brand and his howl of denial mixed with self loathing would haunt your for days to come, maybe months, he was far away and hopefully safe, it couldn’t be him).

The figure merely steadied you against themselves, silent as they swung you into their arms, you briefly struggled. It was instinct to put up a fight, to push against the liminal illusion cruelly meant to haunt your possible last moments as another soon to be lost souls chest, or heck for all you knew it could be the Shadow, dragging it out, playing with your torment as it gave you scraps of hope before taking it away. The figure paused, only to gently readjust you -painfully careful as the memory of the gentleness belonging to your Champion but oh so wrong made your heart ache-, the figure lowly speaking, their tone the emerald eternity of the kingdom’s fields and like setting stitches against your wounded self, like the soothing nature of early autumn rain. Almost a whisper, cracked like the wind through the leaves.

“... Rest. You’ll be alright.”

You wanted to protest, wanted to claw and fight and bite his throat off just in case even if you weren’t sure it would take, as with your head in the crook of his hood you couldn’t hear a heartbeat, but your exhaustion won out in the end. Held in the warmth of the sun over Faron Woods with the glimpse of fierce cerulean blue, the gaze of a reynard whom a part of you knew wouldn’t give you up without a fight and safer than you felt since getting pounced through that cursed portal.

When you next came to, it was to Wild’s frantic worry at the edges of camp, his hair like a frazzled shroud as he dropped everything in hand of his watch to check on your now wrapped wounds. Hugging you tight as you held him just as close back.

This time, you found a heartbeat, and you could almost weep with relief, and in the darkness of the woods a shrouded shade smiled.

Returning to the mist unseen and unheard. But content you were home.

[idy-ll-ique]

A Good Look.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: major angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, domestic violence (no graphic descriptions). hella curse words in one paragraph. one infinity war reference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Requested: nope

Summary: reader works at a bar owned by the notorious mob boss. he immediately takes a liking to her; unfortunately, she's taken. but is she happy in her relationship? hm, not quite...

Author's Note: hiya peeps! enjoy!

masterlist

---

For her, it started small. It was her first day working. When Y/N had seen him walk into the bar, flanked by two of his closest friends, sure— for a moment, she was stunned, as were the other women working with her, but then as soon as he was out of sight, she returned to her work, ignoring her friends as they talked about the man.

Y/N knew better. She knew the kind of man he was, the way he was with a different woman almost every day and she knew better than to develop any kind of feelings for him. Plus, she was a taken woman herself, thinking about another man while being in a relationship with someone had to be wrong, right?

That's why she wanted an out— to break up with her current boyfriend. And he even made it easier for her by being the worst fucking boyfriend on the planet earth. She had hundreds of reasons as to why she was breaking up with him, the only question was when she could do it. Anyway, back to James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes...

Y/N couldn't help it. She went from ignoring him, to stealing small glances at him, to dreaming about him to thinking about him 24/7 in a matter of months.

Y/N worked as a bartender at one of the bars that the mobster owned. Heck, Bucky Barnes owned half the city, but that bar was one of his favorite places to visit. He went there everyday, most days not having a drink, but keeping a watchful gaze on the events that took place around the bar. There would be fights sometimes, and sometimes, the older men would hit on the young bartenders.

He didn't care, of course he didn't. That is, until he saw her. The moment he laid his eyes on her, her name still unknown to him, he was enamored. He kept looking over at her as she worked, sometimes giggling along with the other bartenders, sometimes cracking jokes that made all of them keel over in laughter.

Every time he saw her laughing, his heart fluttered in his chest and a warmth settled over him. He felt light-headed and giddy, even though he didn't drink. Within a few months, he was sure, he wanted her to be his indefinitely. Y/N, however, was shocked at his behavior, not knowing that she was the one who stole his heart.

His promiscuity stopped within the first week of him noticing Y/N. He no longer had one-night stands, no more dames by his side as he attended lavish parties, and the news had caught on. Who is the woman who won the mobster's affections? Y/N had read in a paper one morning. She felt… kind of relieved that he wasn't a playboy anymore.

It wasn't a good look on him.

---

Y/N was cleaning the counter with a rag when she heard the door opening and closing. Ugh, another customer. She looked up and grimaced as she saw one of the old, pervy bastards sitting in front of her, a smile on his face. "Good evening, sir, what can I get you?" She kept the annoyance from seeping into her voice.

He gave her his order and leaned forward, which caused Y/N to unconsciously lean back. "Change your mind today?" he smirked, picking up the glass just as Y/N set it down in front of him, causing their fingers to brush. She shuddered. "No," she replied politely, glancing around the room, hoping someone would come save her. As if. That's when their eyes met.

Y/N found herself staring at the man of her dreams, who was sitting in the corner of the bar with his friends. And he was staring straight back at her. Y/N gulped and turned away from him, instead focusing on the man in front of her who was shamelessly flirting with the woman who had to be at least 20 years younger than him.

"Stop flirting with my employee and let her do her job."

The entire bar froze the moment James Buchanan Barnes got up from his seat, heading towards Y/N. Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his cool but threatening tone as he stared at the pervert, his eyebrows raised. The bar was silent as the man gulped and backed away from the counter, running out of the door like a chicken. Y/N stared at the floor.

"Hey."

She looked up and audibly gulped again, wincing in embarrassment when she realized that he had to know how scared she was. "Mr Barnes," she greeted, though it came out more like a squeak as her voice cracked. Please, go away, don't stand so close to me, I can't take it, go away, she kept muttering in her head.

"You okay?" he asked gently, not wanting the poor woman to collapse from anxiety. Some sadistic part of him liked it that she was so afraid of him, but mostly, he just wanted to make her feel comfortable. "Yeah." Y/N relaxed a bit at his question when she realized he wasn't going to hurt or fire her.

"Good." Then he walked away like he hadn't just set Y/N's entire body on fire by talking to her. As he sat back down on his seat, he inwardly cursed himself for not asking her her name. I don't even know the name of the woman I have fallen head over heels for, nice going Barnes! Gah! He ran a hand through his hair, glaring at nothing in particular.

He stayed until it was closing time, and found out something so incredible that his heart soared at the information. Y/N was the only employee who stayed until closing time. Y/N groaned loudly in the seemingly empty bar as she swept the place, not noticing the mobster boss sitting in the dark corner, watching her.

"Fuck you, Y/N. Fuck. You. Literally. What was the fucking reason?!" Y/N grumbled to herself, her voice reverberating off the walls in the empty place. "He was just checking up on you. Why the fuck did you treat him like he was the monster?! You dumbass. Ugh, I'm gonna have to make it up to him; what if he fires me?!" Y/N couldn't help the tears.

"He checked up on you and no thank you. What an ungrateful little bitch you are, you… you fucking idiot," Y/N continued speaking through the tears. "Maybe a free drink when he comes back tomorrow? Hah, as if, he owns the fucking bar. What should I do? Sleep with him? As if. Fuck. Shit."

"How about we start by washing your mouth with a soapbar, doll?"

Y/N froze when she heard him. Oh God, he was still here. "M-Mr Barnes?" she stammered, turning towards the voice. Bucky got up from his seat and strode towards her, making sure to keep some distance between them as he stopped in front of her. "Do you always ramble to yourself while you work?" he questioned amusedly.

When she had started rambling, he was confused. Who was she talking about? Then, he connected the dots. At first he was a bit amused but as her speech continued, he couldn't take it. How can someone degrade themselves so much? Y/N couldn't answer him, her vocal cords tied in a knot in her throat.

"I asked you something, and I'm waiting for an answer." At the authoritative tone she looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I— uh, yeah, it's— it's, um, become a habit," she muttered, breathing heavily. What was he going to do to her? "You shouldn't cuss yourself out so much, doll," he frowned, crossing his arms. And without thinking, she replied, "Sorry."

"That man was clearly bothering you, I did what I had to do. I didn't expect anything in return. Sure, a thank you would've been nice," he teased lightly, "But please, never talk to yourself like that ever again, okay?" His gentleness turned something inside of Y/N and suddenly, she felt relaxed. Like she had known him for years.

"Okay. Oh, and, thank you." She gave him a smile so winsome that all he wanted to do was hold her against him and never let go. "Hold on, maybe there is something you can do." The smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. "What is it?" she asked him, blinking. "Can we talk? Maybe you can tell me about yourself, and I can get to know you better."

So she did. Both of them sat at the bar with Bucky's favorite beer poured in mugs, talking. Y/N told him about how she was a university student, and that she had taken the job because she was in need of money. "You aren't scared? A lot of shit happens here, doll," Bucky commented, sipping his beer. "I don't know… it doesn't faze me as much as it should."

"And me! I'm the most dangerous man in the city and yet, you agreed to sit here with me, alone." At that, a smile bloomed on Y/N's face, the beer getting to her head, loosening her up. She looked away from him, almost shyly. "You saved me today, Mr Barnes. How can I not trust the guy who saved me?" Bucky's heart started hammering in his chest.

"Thank you, Y/N, that means a lot," he spoke sincerely. "You're welcome! So, uh, I actually have to go to uni early tomorrow, so… I'd like to go home, please?" He immediately nodded at her words, helping her off the stool. He even helped her finish her chores before she locked the main door and turned around, smiling at Bucky.

"Well, this is it, I guess. Goodbye, Mr Barnes."

"Let me drop you home, please." And he did, pestering her until she agreed to get in his car. She insisted her apartment building was only a 15-minute walk away from the bar, but he wouldn't listen. "A lot can happen in 15 minutes, doll." And Y/N couldn't help but snort. "That's what she said." Her joke made him laugh so hard that he almost swerved the car into the sidewalk.

As Y/N stared at the laughing man, she felt tingly inside. Her feelings rushed to her; butterflies in her stomach. When they reached home, again, he insisted on dropping her off at her apartment, but Y/N declined. And this time, he didn't fight it. "Goodnight, Mr Barnes," she told him with a sweet smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

He had been such a gentleman that day, he deserved it. "Bucky will do, my love. Be safe, okay? We'll meet tomorrow." With that, he drove off.

And for the first time in months, Y/N went to sleep happy, giddy and absolutely satisfied.

So did Bucky.

---

After that one incident in the bar, Y/N and Bucky became close. When he was at the bar, Y/N was the center of his attention. He was the one who now sat in front of her, talking to her about his day and asking her about hers. "Tell me about your uni, doll," or, "Do you know what they did to me today? Ugh! Maniacs!"

Soon, everyone in the bar started giving them space. They knew the two were not sleeping together, but Barnes had, at last, found a female friend. How did they know the two were not sleeping together, you ask? Simple. Y/N still had a boyfriend. An abusive one, so she didn't tell Barnes.

After finding out about the events that had taken place at the bar that day between Y/N and Bucky, her boyfriend had reached new heights of jealousy and insecurity, not hesitating to raise a hand on his own girlfriend as he blatantly accused her of cheating on him with the mobster. It wasn't true by a long shot, and it hurt.

Y/N hadn't told Bucky about her boyfriend, because she knew that if she told him, he'd kill her boyfriend. She was about to break up with him anyway, so getting Bucky involved would only create more problems. A peaceful break up, and it was over. Unfortunately, peace was not involved on the day of the inevitable break up...

Bucky was already at the bar, but was grumpy since Y/N wasn't there. He was so desperate that he had asked one of her friends if she knew where the woman was. But the other woman could only shake her head, indicating that she didn't know. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his eyes trailing to the door the moment he heard it opening. He froze.

Everybody did.

Y/N was standing there, a very noticeable dark red patch on her white t-shirt. When she noticed that everyone was staring at her, especially Bucky, it made her nervous. Should've stayed at home. For a moment, she actually did consider going back out through the door but Bucky spoke up first. "Y/N, come here. Everyone out, bar's closed."

His tone was something she had never heard before. A mixture of annoyance, hurt, worry, but mostly anger. In another scenario, the scene of all the people scrambling out of the tiny door would've been extremely hilarious. But here, no one was laughing. Y/N stood frozen until the door closed behind her.

"I asked you to come here, doll."

Instinctively, she strode towards him, stopping just a few inches away. He stared down at her, jaw clenched. Being a mobster, he was used to seeing blood and could identify it easily. And it was definitely blood that was covering almost a sixth of Y/N's t-shirt. "Lift your shirt. Take it off, right now," he snarled.

Y/N, not wanting him to take his anger out on her, immediately ripped the t-shirt off of her, standing in front of him in her sports bra, a deep gash just under her left breast. Y/N flinched when his fingers came in contact with her wound and Bucky immediately retracted his arm. "What happened?" His tone changed. Now, it was simply full of hurt.

"He stabbed me." Bucky's hands balled into fists at his side. One name, all he needed her to do was give him a name and the bastard was dead, whether she liked it or not. "Who did?" "My boyfriend." Bucky went rigid at her words. All this time, she was taken? "You have a…?" She shook her head, letting her tears fall free. "Not anymore." That reassured him.

"I decided to break up with him today. Decided to do it before my shift here, so my job could distract me. He… he didn't like it. And he…" Y/N choked out through the tears. Bucky's body was boiling with anger. "Tell me his name right now." Y/N started feeling light-headed. "Bucky…" she whispered feebly, swaying on her spot. And he cursed loudly when she fell forward, unconscious.

He carried her out of the bar, put her in his car and drove above the speed limit to his place. He had a private infirmary at his mansion, where he knew Y/N would be the safest. Once he was home, not caring that his expensive suit was getting ruined by blood, he ran to the infirmary, Y/N in his arms. The doctors took her in for an operation and they had to admit—

They had never seen the mobster look so scared.

After he was sure Y/N was in good hands, Bucky went to the sitting room, where his friend, Sam, sat. "Pull out everything you can get on Y/N. Check everything. Social media— I need the name of her ex boyfriend." Sam got to work instantly, not wanting to aggravate the man. Turns out, he didn't have to search for long. "[Name]."

Sam told Bucky everything he could about the man. By the end, Bucky was seething. "Send some men over. Finish him." Again, Sam agreed without argument, rushing out of the room. And so, Bucky waited. He sat in the spacious sitting room all alone, holding his head in his hands, trying his best not to tear up.

---

"Bucky?"

It had been 6 hours since he brought her to his place. He startled and turned around to see Y/N standing at the door, leaning against it for support. This time, he did tear up and not caring about his dignity, he ran forward and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, sobbing like a little child. "Bucky, I'm fine, I really am," Y/N insisted in vain.

"I almost lost you today," Bucky sniffled, pulling away from her. She wiped his tears off, giving him a small smile. After spending a lot of time with the man, she had come to realize that he was nothing but a big softie, who put on a façade 24/7. He cared about her like no one else. He was so good to her.

And finally, her feelings were justified.

"You didn't lose me, though. I'm right here," she grinned. Her grin made him smile and he took her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Come here." Both of them walked into the room and he pulled her onto his lap, holding her close, thinking if he let go, she would turn to dust right in front of him.

"How bad is the wound?"

"Not that bad, actually, it was a kitchen knife." He moved to trace the wound through her t-shirt when he noticed it. She wasn't in her t-shirt, she was wearing one of his. This time, he didn't fight the urge. "God, I fucking love you so much, doll." Bucky grabbed her chin, pressing his lips to hers. She didn't fight it either.

"I… I love you too, Bucky."

She buried her face in his neck and he held her close, pressing tiny kisses to her cheek and forehead. "You're finally mine, baby girl. Ever since I saw you at the bar, I was smitten. Do you know what a torture it was for me?" he mumbled against her cheek. "Same. I, um…" He chuckled when he felt her skin warming against him.

"I'm going to treat you like the queen you are, baby."

"Aw, so cheesy. But flattering."

"Also, you're fired."

"Great, you ruined it."

"What? I'm the owner, I hire people. And you don't need the job anymore, you have me. I'll pay the university fees. You don't have to work at that horrible bar anymore."

"Bucky, you own the place."

"Still horrible."

"And also what are you, my sugar daddy?"

"Literally fuck off—"

"You know you love me."

"Fortunately, I do."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading. Leave a like if you enjoyed.

[itskatastrophe-x]

Finally Home (c!Sapnap x Reader)

I let my twitter followers decide who I wrote a oneshot for, and they wanted c!Sapnap, so here it is :) Written in the span of like... Idk 2 hours?? It’s a soulmate AU where you can feel everything your soulmate feels when you get in a certain distance of them and it gets stronger the closer you get to them. I hope yall like it!!

Word count :  2,701

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

There it was again. That burning sensation on the palms of your hands. You didn’t understand where it came from or why it was happening, but it hurt like hell. You wondered if it would ever stop, but you doubted it would. You knew the stories all too well but figured it would never happen to you, and slowly your fears confirmed it as all of your friends got theirs and eventually found their person. A soulmate. The way they talked about how they could feel what their soulmate felt on a physical level. They would feel light brushes against their arms or bumps when the other person would be somewhere busy. All of your friends had found their other halves years ago, explaining that when it happened there was a jolt like electricity in their bodies. After all of your friends had abandoned you, you had given up hope in ever finding your person. So you travelled. For miles and miles and miles, seeing every country, village, and kingdom your empty heart desired. You had lost everyone you loved and couldn’t even find your soulmate. 

Then it happened all too suddenly. If you had to guess, it happened when you got within range of the person, so you kept up your pace and travelled. It was an unpleasant sensation. It felt like fire all over your body. At first it was a small stinging, then the farther you travelled, the closer you got to this person, it grew. You would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because of cuts and wounds your other half would experience. You wished it was something as simple as the things your friends had gone through, but this was a nightmare. You wished you could meet this person once and for all just so you could give them a strong right hook to the jaw, then changed your mind as you remembered that you would also feel it. 

You knew by the things you were going through that this person was crazy and potentially dangerous with the amount of wounds this person was accumulating through the weeks of you travelling, so you did your best to be delicate. Whenever you would feel a new pain, you would prepare healing potions and drink them in hopes that the other person would also feel the effects. Either that or, if it didn’t feel like a gash or deep cut, you would trace your fingers over the spot gently to sooth the other person to let them know you would comfort them. What you couldn’t stand, though, was the feeling of fire dancing around your fingers. You eventually learned to tune it out and numb yourself to it, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when it started, but it was still painful and annoying.

Then it stopped as suddenly as it started. For three whole days. Three. Days. After the first couple hours of the first day you started to worry. It was rare that you got a single second of rest from this crazy asshole, but three days? Part of you hoped he wasn’t dead, but the other part was happy you didn’t have to deal with scratches, bruises, and burning. But you missed it so much that you wished the burning in your palms returned. Nothing stopped you from continuing on though, even though you had no idea if you were going the right way anymore or not. You used the pain as a guide for weeks to lead you closer, but when it stopped, you lost your physical compass. Something in your heart told you that you were still heading towards them though, so you kept on, this time faster and without much sleep. You wanted to make sure this person was ok, and fast. You watched all of your friends leave you, you couldn’t have your literal soulmate leave you as well. 

When the third day ended and you were about to fall asleep, you felt it. The smallest little touch to your cheek you had ever felt. It was out of the blue and you had never felt such a touch come from the other person, so it woke you up instantly. You laid there for a moment, the stroking on your cheek so soft and faint that you wondered if it was even the person at all. Slowly, you lifted your hand to your other cheek and caressed it. The feeling on your other cheek stopped, but the feeling of a hand still stayed there. That’s when you knew it was them. They knew you would feel it, but probably weren’t expecting you to return the feeling to them. The stroking started again, so you stroked your other cheek for them as well. Then it hit you. Why had you never thought of it before? After weeks of knowing you had a soulmate out there, it just now hit you. You sat up from your bed in the little hotel you were staying at and tapped your leg. The feeling on your cheek stopped then you felt the same tap on your leg again. You smiled and pressed your hand down for a second and felt more pressure a couple seconds later. 

Then you started. At first it was a smiley face, then letters one at a time to write to the person. You asked their age first. Then you felt the pressure of the person writing back. “20”. You drew yours back, then they drew a smile to confirm they got it. You asked their name. “Nick” they wrote back. Then you wrote yours. You got as much information as you could from this small communication as possible so you could find him easier. After your small exchange, you got up, got dressed, packed your things and headed towards a location called “Dream SMP”. You had seen it on maps before, but it was so far away that you thought you would never get there. You had already crossed oceans, rivers, and mountains for this man, but now you had a new fire to feel. A fire burning so deep in you that it ignited in your eyes. You used all the money and resources you had to get there. You bought boats and horses for the days leading up to your arrival.

After over a month of travelling, you finally made it to the outside borders of what was known as the DreamSMP. The streets were full and bustling with life. Most people smiled and greeted you as a new member, fully accepting you the second you set foot on the land, others scowled or threw hateful words your way, possibly thinking you wouldn’t hear, or maybe they hoped you would so you would leave. You asked around about this person “Nick” and got an overwhelming response of happy chatter and protests of anger, so you left as politely as you could to search on your own. 

You felt like it would take forever to find this other person if all of the streets and businesses would be this crowded and overwhelming, until you came across one man standing at the edge of a river with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. His fluffy brown hair flipped up in the front and slightly waved in the breeze, the colors he wore matching his vibe completely. You approached him cautiously at first, but felt comforted by the aura he gave off. You cleared your throat quietly, so as not to startle him, and he opened his eyes slowly to greet you, the lightest shade of blue you had ever seen. He gave you a soft smile and waved you over, so you complied. 

For a second, you wondered if this was him, but you took note of his soft, clear looking skin and the lack of electricity as you neared him. When you got next to him, he pointed across the river to a very ornate village sitting on the hills surrounded by flower forests. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You stared in awe at the mushroom buildings and statue and smiled at him. “I’ve travelled a long way to get here and passed hundreds of kingdoms, but this tops them all,” you replied. He made a noise of agreement and smiled, content with your answer. “Well, tell me, new face, how did you make your way to Kinoko Kingdom, and why are you here?” There was no malice in his voice as he asked and you could tell he was being friendly so you knew you wasn’t being standoffish. “I came to meet my soulmate,” you answered. His eyes went wide and met yours, a look of shock on his face. “Th-that’s you?!” You looked at him, furrowing your brows. How did he know? As if to read your mind, he continued. “I knew he was expecting someone, but, wow… I mean… He’s gonna want to meet you now. He literally hasn’t shut up for weeks about you.” You stammered for a second as he grabbed your hand and started running, barely giving you any reaction time to keep up with him. He was fast and energetic and you liked it. He seemed friendly and bubbly and his touch was comforting. 

He weaved in and out of streets and occasional bystanders watching the two of you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. You took it these people didn’t see many new faces, seeing as they were small in numbers. He didn’t slow down until both of you were panting in front of a giant cherry blossom tree in front of the biggest library you had seen. You could hear a loud voice echoing out of the open hole, acting as a doorway. The man next to you put a hand on your shoulder and you looked over at his grinning face. “I should explain before you get in there… My name is Karl and Sapnap, or Nick, is my fiancé. Now before you get worried, we’re in an open, poly relationship and he’s talked to me about all of this and I am 100% welcoming you into our little family.” He gave you a warm smile that reached his eyes so you knew he was being sincere. 

A booming shout broke your thoughts and you felt a pain in your toe that almost made you fall over, then loud laughter erupted. You smiled and shook off your foot as Karl motioned you inside, and that’s all you needed to run inside. The space inside was open with books lining the high walls. There was a staircase to your right, a mushroom in the far back, and a balcony above your head. There you saw him. At first he stood there laughing with the other man in front of him, not realizing you were inside, so you stared. You felt something like fire dancing across your skin lightly as you watched him with wide eyes. He was more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen. He had his jet black hair tied into a messy, low bun at the back of his head, a scar across the length of his face that went across the bridge of his nose. He had a light dusting of freckles across his rosy cheeks and the most piercing eyes. The man in front of him caught onto your stare and nudged the man, pointing down at you from their spot on the balcony. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went up your spine and your skin felt hot, like you were now encased in a cocoon of fire. For a moment you both just stared at each other, not being able to move, until you felt a pair of hands push you gently from behind.

That’s all it took to move you. You took off towards the stairs and took them two at a time as he ran to meet you on the landing. You collided into the biggest hug that knocked the wind out of your lungs and almost sent you flying backwards, but he kept you steady. Your eyes welled up for a moment and you laughed into his chest. He smelled like a campfire, fir trees, and old books. He was so warm and your body fit his so perfectly under his arms. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a soft touch to your shoulder, a small hum coming from Karl behind you. “Thank god you’re finally here. Sapnap literally would not shut up. He always talked about how soft you were with him when he knew how hard it must have been for you. Weeks. Weeks.” Sapnap reached an arm out to punch Karl, but he dodged easily since Sapnap still hadn’t let you go. You chuckled and closed his eyes as he put his arm back over your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered into your hair. He squeezed him and smiled. “You thought I wasn’t?” He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “I thought you would hate me. I’m so reckless and get hurt all the time. How could anyone want me if they feel what I feel?” You pulled back to look him in the eyes and you gave him the most genuine smile you had ever had on your face. “You’re stupid. Of course I would be here. And I will stay here. I’ll take care of all your bumps, scrapes, and stabs. The pain means nothing so long as I know you’re ok.” His pointed ears turn a bright red and he averts his gaze to the floor, so you bring your hand to his cheek gently. At first he flinches, but soon closes his eyes, sighs, and leans into your hand, his lip slightly quivering from such tenderness. 

“I do have one question, though.” He hums, not opening his eyes. “Why do my palms always burn? Do you just, like, constantly sit around a campfire?” He chuckles and slowly lifts his head, eyes opening to look at you. He pulls back from you slightly, keeping one arm around your waist as he watches his hand, then back to your face to watch your eyes on his hand. In an instant, his hand is surrounded by fire, the burning in your hand starting up. He must have liked the look on your face because he lets out a snort and then starts laughing, all while you stand there in awe at the power he held. “Holy shit… And… And that’s real fire? Just like that?” You look back at him and he gives you a shy smile and a nod of his head as the fire goes out. There was a sparkle in your eyes that he was absolutely enchanted by and he hoped he would get to see that for the rest of his life. You let out a small huff of amazement and smile brightly. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met,” you say quietly as you watch his features soften as he’s left speechless. 

“Oh get a room,” the guy behind Sapnap says, his voice thick with an accent and sarcasm, the sound of a smile in his words. Sapnap looks at the man and points at him, shooting off a mini fire at him. His shirt catches for a second before the man screams and smacks himself to put it out. You laugh as you watch the exchange and Sapnap looks back at you, thinking of how beautiful your laugh sounds. “Well,” Karl starts. “We have a lot to talk about! Ooooooh this is so exciting! We need to know more about you!!” He grabs both of you and pulls you down the stairs and out to the pond next to the tree out front, the sun finally setting over the hills, casting a gorgeous, fiery glow on your soulmate’s features. You couldn’t wait to see what their life was like. To kiss all of his scars and tell him how amazing he was. To run your fingers through his raven feather-looking hair. Oh how you loved this.

[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[kckenobi]

Ooh you’re doing prompts! how about 3 and 6 for ani and obi, if you want :’)

3. “Hey, it’s me, it’s just me.” // 6. “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?”

“Ahsoka’s going to kill us.”

Obi-Wan’s voice came from below, where he was laying with his head propped up on Anakin’s balled-up cloak. Anakin himself was pacing the cave, but he stopped then.

“She’s going to kill you. I’m not the one who tried to be a hero and wound up with a concussion and Force knows what else.”

“Wasn’t trying to be a hero,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Just trying to help you.”

“And how did that work out?”

He was trying to keep it light, distract them both from the fact that the cave exit was two-hundred meters up and they were down here. Neither of them smiled.

“Well, in any case, you did take out the probe droid,” Anakin said, “even if you did plummet off a cliff. So I guess for that I’m grateful.” Obi-Wan hummed. “But on the flip side—“

“No one knows we’re here,” Obi-Wan said. “Not Separatists. But no one else, either.”

“No,” Anakin said softly. “No, they don’t.”

Not for the first time, Anakin pulled out his busted commlink and tried to reestablish a connection, pacing the cave floor beside Obi-Wan. Rex and Ahsoka and the others would know they were missing when they didn’t show up at the checkpoint in an hour. But a lot could happen during that time. Obi-Wan had hit his head hard enough to lose consciousness, before regaining it sputtering and coughing blood. If he was bleeding internally…if the bleeding was in his brain…

“Hey.” Anakin nudged Obi-Wan’s leg with his foot. “Eyes open. Don’t go to sleep on me, okay?”

Obi-Wan hummed. “Yes, Master.”

“Very funny. Come on, let’s talk or something. Keep you alert.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut suddenly, as if he were hurting more, before his face relaxed again. “‘m not feeling very chatty, I’m afraid.”

“Fine. Then I’ll talk.” Anakin stopped pacing and sat down beside him, leaning against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. “Remember what you used to call me? As a Padawan?

Obi-Wan gave a soft chuckle. “Chatty-kin.”

“Yeah. I really was annoying, when I was little. Geez. I remember you used to pull out a book and start reading while I was going on about pod racing and that didn’t even deter me.”

“That was rude of me.”

“And well-deserved. You never did get to read much when I was a kid. Too busy putting out my metaphorical fires. And some literal ones.”

He launched into a story about how once, Anakin had set fire to the dishwashers in the Temple refractory and he and Obi-Wan had both gotten a talking to from Master Windu—but then Obi-Wan’s eyes were closed again, and Anakin’s voice trailed off.

“Hey,” he said. “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, and Anakin felt a surge of panic.

“Obi-Wan—“

He set a hand down on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan jolted upright, eyes wild.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s just me,” Anakin said, rubbing his thumb over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t feel okay.”

“Well, you are,” Anakin said. “Or you will be. Ahsoka’s going to come.”

“Hmm.”

“She will. But until then, you have to stay awake, okay?

Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes again. “I’ll try.”

“Hey, now. What does Master Yoda always say?”

Obi-Wan slowly shook his head. “Can’t remember.”

“Yeah, you do. Do or do not…”

Obi-Wan groaned softly, but he finished the phrase. “There is no try.”

“Exactly. Meaning you’re going to stay awake with me.” Anakin exhaled hard, looking over Obi-Wan’s battered frame. “What hurts most?”

“Everything,” he said, then groaned. “My head.”

“Figured. Does this make it better or worse?”

He gently took Obi-Wan by the shoulders and helped him move backward, until his head rested on Anakin’s legs instead of the thin fabric of the cloak.

Obi-Wan’s face grew tight with the movement, then softened. “Better.”

“Good. Cause we might be in this for the long haul,” Anakin said. “Now, tell me, do you remember the time when I was fifteen, and you tried to sneak out for a date with a certain politician—“

Anakin settled in to keep talking, and Obi-Wan quietly laughed, and both wondered if this was how they’d spend his last moments.

—

“Down here!”

Ahsoka beckoned Rex and the others to follow her, leaping down from the precipice into the cave below. And there, she saw them—two figures in the darkness. One laying down. Looking bad.

“Master!”

One of the figures looked up. “Ahsoka—“

“He’s hurt. I can see that. Is he—“

“Alive,” Anakin said, softly, though his voice echoed off the walls. “He’s alive. For now.”

Ahsoka crouched beside her grandmaster, running her fingers through his hair. He wasn’t conscious.

“Then let’s make sure we keep it that way.”

Gently, they worked together to lift him and started for the exit. Ahsoka exhaled. She’d found her masters in trouble many times, and didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. She hoped she didn’t. She was tired of people she loved being hurt, or ill, or dead.

But this time, at least she had the power to help them. For now.

They exited the cave, leaving the rubble and pain behind them.

For now.

from these whump prompts

[guardianofrivendell]

Gentlemen in Distress (request)

Legolas x reader x Fellowship

Requested: Yes! @galileostyles​ asked “hey i love your writing so much ❤️ could you do a legolas x reader x fellowship where they see you fighting for the first time at the mines of moria and feel bad for underestimating you. thanks ❤️”

Warnings: men being men

A/N: This was harder than I thought! I wrote it a first time last week but then I realized it was too similar to an upcoming chapter of ‘Perfect Secrets’, so I had to delete and start all over again. Enjoy and let me know what you think! I live for comments/reblogs :) 

(I absolutely love this gif. It practically screams testosteron! If I was standing near an Orc at this moment I would take its arm and wound it around my neck myself, and gladly take up the role of damsel in distress. Yes please!)

The fellowship halted before the gates of Moria.  You were relieved to be out of the snow, but dreaded the upcoming journey through Moria. You knew why Gandalf hesitated to go through them, shivering at the thought of what could happen. Legolas’ eyes met yours, but he looked the other way when he saw you staring back. You rolled your eyes, knowing you had to have a serious word with your beloved Elf. 

While Gandalf tried to figure out how to crack the password after two unsuccesful attempts, you made your way towards Legolas. It felt like days since you two spoke to each other.  He didn’t look up when you sat down next to him. You sighed, kicking the sand with the heel of your boot.

“Are you still cross with me?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He pursed his lips, as if he was actually considering it. But then he rose to his feet and went to Aragorn and Sam.  “Guess that’s a yes,” you muttered.  Merry and Pippin let themself drop down at your feet. You heard Gandalf yelling at poor Pippin a few moments before and he still looked a bit shaken.  “Still mad at you?” Merry asked. You nodded. “He has every right to be, my lady,” Boromir interrupted. You didn’t know he had been eavesdropping.  “And why is that?” you asked him. “This journey is no place for a woman. When we fight, we do not have the time to protect you as well. He only wants to keep you safe.” You rolled your eyes again. “How many times do I have to say that I can take care of myself? I know how to fight!” “Training or taking part in a battle is not the same thing. If you were mine, I would have tied you to a chair to make sure you didn’t join us.” “That’s why ‘if’ is the keyword, Boromir,” you reminded him.  

You could hear Frodo shout something, and the doors to Moria finally opened.  Everyone got to their feet and entered the mines.  Legolas made his way up front with Gandalf and Frodo, while you lingered towards the back of the group. If he wanted to ignore you, so be it. You wouldn’t fret about it anymore. He’ll come around eventually. 

The reason of your falling out was quite simple. Legolas had forbidden you to go along on the journey, after you volunteered at the Council of Elrond, following his example. Yes, that’s right. He forbade you. Like you were his property.  Not that he could have convinced you not to go, but you might have listened to reason. But as soon as he said that damned word, your mind was set. You were going, even if that meant you had to end your relationship because of it.  And ever since you left Rivendell with the fellowship, Legolas had given you the cold shoulder. He hardly talked to you and chose to walk alongside everyone but you.  When the Crebain flew over in Eregion, it hadn’t been Legolas who pulled you under the rocks but Aragorn. At that moment you realized he truly was angry at you. What you failed to notice was the worried expression Legolas wore the entire time, cursing himself for not being anywhere near you to pull you to safety. He had thanked Aragorn extensively afterwards. He vowed to himself to never make that mistake again. 

When you entered the mines, you could hear Gimli boasting about his cousin and the hospitality they were about to recieve.  You felt the darkness closing in around you, you really didn’t like this place.  “This is no mine, it’s a tombe!” You heard Boromir exclaim. It was only then you realised the cracking sound beneath your feet wasn’t the sound of branches breaking or gravel. You were literally walking on dead bodies.  Legolas pulled an arrow out of a corpse.  “Goblins!” he hissed. He notched an arrow on his bow and instinctively took a few steps towards you. You were too busy trying to avoid stepping on another dead Dwarf that you didn’t notice.

Boromir yelled something about the Gap of Rohan, but a movement outside of the gates caught your attention. Out of the water came a long tentacle, slowly sliding over the ground towards Frodo. Before you could warn him, it grabbed his leg and dragged him out of the mines.  Sam cried to Aragorn for help, alerting everyone else. They all ran outside and tried to cut off the tentacles with their swords. Boromir had been able to free Frodo, but the giant squidlike creature wasn’t giving up very easily.  “Y/N! Go back inside, take the Hobbits with you!” Aragorn yelled.  Seriously? You were not a babysitter! Why did they have such a hard time believing you could hold your own? Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir kept slicing the tentacles, but the creature didn’t back off. Legolas shot arrow after arrow, to no avail. They needed help. “Quick, give me a sword or a dagger, anything!” you yelled, eager to join the fight. “No!” Legolas yelled, shooting an arrow in the squid’s left eye. “Go back into the mines!” “Oh, now you can talk to me!” You felt someone grab your arm, trying to pull you back. You shook them off before you turned around and saw it was Merry, immediately swallowing the insult that had been on your tongue. “Into the mines, hurry!” Gandalf shouted, when he realised this was a fight they could not win. You followed the others back into the mine, barely escaping the falling rocks when the entrance collapsed. 

*

After a few days of walking through Moria, you had reached the Chamber of Mazarbul.  Legolas still wasn’t talking to you, now upset you hadn’t listened to him with the squid situation, but you knew he was going to give in at any moment. You had caught him staring multiple times, his hands twitching to take yours when you walked next to each other.  Gimli cried over the loss of Balin. You placed your hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. He gave you a grateful nod.  You heard Gandalf reading aloud from a book he’d found, and the words he spoke made your hairs stand up.  A sudden clang sounded through the chamber, and you saw Pippin standing by a well. He had managed to knock the head off a corpse, and the body of the fallen warrior followed seconds later. Gandalf shouted at him for being so careless. “Don’t worry Pippin, he’s under a lot of stress. He doesn’t mean it,” you tried to ease the tension between them. But then the drumbeats had started…  “Orcs!” Boromir and Aragorn ran to the door and barricaded it with anything they could find on the ground.  “They have a cave troll,” Boromir laughed sarcastically. 

“Y/N! Take the Hobbits and go to the back of the chamber! Stay behind Gandalf!” Aragorn shouted. “No! I want to fight! You can use my help,” you yelled angrily. You weren’t going to stand helpless at the sidelines again. Not this time. “Meleth nin,” Legolas spoke to you, his jaw clenched. “Could you please listen to us for once? I only want to keep you safe!” He cupped your face with his hands, and kissed your lips. “I could not live with myself if you got hurt.” The Orcs started to hack through the heavy wooden doors with their axes.  “Go!” he growled at you, and you were so surprised at his reaction that you obeyed. 

You had gathered the Hobbits and hidden yourself on the second level, behind the pillars to keep you out of sight.  The men had no problem with the Orcs, slaying every single one who crossed the wooden doors. But then a loud growl resounded through the chamber, and the cave troll entered, shattering the remains of the door with his mace. A curse escaped you, this was entirely different than fighting against Orcs. The troll immediately made its way to Legolas. The skin was too thick, Legolas’ arrows bounced off of it.  He barely avoided a hit with the mace, and you started to get worried. 

Suddenly the troll spotted you and the Hobbits, and with a screech he ran towards you.  It swung its mace and you grabbed Frodo, yelling at the other Hobbits to go the other way, hoping it would chase you to keep them safe.  Aragorn and Boromir took the chain hanging from its neck and pulled at it with all their might, trying to distract it and buy you and Frodo some time to get yourselves to safety. Legolas and Gimli were too busy with the remaining Orcs. The troll swung its mace at them, and with one powerful blow he threw Boromir across the room into the wall. He landed with a thump on the ground, unconscious.  “No!” you screamed, which caught the creature’s attention. He charged at you again, and you shoved Frodo behind you.  The troll roared in pain when Aragorn threw a spear at him, piercing his back. Aragorn soon suffered the same fate as Boromir. Your eyes went to Boromir, who was slowly regaining his consciousness, to Legolas who was shooting arrows at the troll again in the hope to find a weak spot, and back to Aragorn, who lay lifeless on the ground. They were losing this battle… You couldn’t stay there and do nothing! Even Sam was fighting against the last Orcs with his frying pan of all things, but it was effective. They only had to find a way to defeat the cavetroll. And you knew how.

“Stay here!” you said to Frodo, shoving him in the corner. You jumped of the landing and took two Orc swords from the ground. “Y/N, no!” Legolas cried at you. But you already listened once today, and that was more than enough. You ran around the troll, hacking your swords in its legs. It cried out in pain, and was now really pissed off at you.  “Y/N, Lassie, leave this to us!” Gimli shouted.  “Yes, because you’re doing so great!” you yelled back. The troll swung at you with its mace, and it smacked to the ground right in front of you. Perfect timing, you thought and you jumped on top of it, and nimbly ran up his arm towards his shoulder. It tried to smack you off of him, but you were faster, slicing his shoulder and upper back.  You sat down, and swung your arms around his neck, effectively slicing his throat with both swords. The troll made a gargling sound and fell face forward to the ground. You jumped off his back, twirling the swords in a cocky way.

The whole fellowship looked at you in surprise.  “That was amazing!” Merry and Pippin yelled at you, engulfing you in a hug. “Excellent fighting skills!” Boromir complimented. “I’m sorry we doubted you.” The others couldn’t agree more. Legolas however stayed silent. “Are you okay?” you asked him. He scoffed. “You’re asking me if I’m okay? No, Y/N. I’m not! You didn’t listen and put yourself in danger. I had a dozen heart attacks while you fought that troll!” You stared at the ground. He lifted your chin with his hand, and he pressed his lips against yours. “But you have proven to me that you can stand your ground.” You smiled at that. “Does that mean I can have one of your swords?” “Absolutely not!”

A/N: I’m still not that good with endings, but you get the idea! 

[echos-newlegs]

Hey Dear, could you please do 30 with Crosshair or Wolffe and she... and some smut? Thank you ❤

Months without you

Heck yeah, gunna go with Wolffe because I wanna take a break from writing Crosshair. Thanks for the request!

Wolffe x Reader: "How funny! I wanted to take a shower, too. How bout we both take one, to save water, of course."

Warnings: smut, f receiving, f riding m, p in v, praise, slight authority kink, it's wolffe, what do you expect tbh. He does call you girl like twice? But yeah, it do be kind of long. Sorry 🤠

"Senator, someone's here to see you," your handmaiden spoke. Causing you to look up from your desk of paper work and projects. "Who is it?" You asked, and Wolffe peaked his head from behind the door. A small smile creeping onto your face. "Just me," "Just you? No Comet, Sinker, Boost, and Master Plo today?" You asked with a raised brow. Motioning with your hand for him to come in. "Will that be all, m'lady?" The maiden asked, making you nod. "Yes, you're dismissed, thank you."

Wolffe approached your desk with a sigh. Sitting on the bench in the rather roomy office. You stepping over to join once the door was shut behind the maiden. "So, what brings your here?" You asked. Seating yourself beside him. Smiling as his arm snaked around your waist. "Just came to see my favorite Senator." He hummed. Resting his head on yours.

You took his free hand into your lap. Playing with his fingers. "Are you stressed? You seem tense, my love." You asked. Looking up, causing him to pull his head back to look at your face. Bringing his hand up to rest on the side of your face. "I guess I am a little," he gruffed. Leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "But it's fine, it's always better with you."

You and Wolffe had been dating in secret- well as secret as you could keep it with his nosy brothers. For a good seven months now. The two of you met on a mission. He and his men had to help you and your people with an invasion, and he couldn't get enough of you. Nor could you really get enough of him. So anytime he was in the area, or got the okay of leave. He was there knocking at your door. Hoping to at least get one hug in from you.

You brought a hand up to brush through his hair. Resulting in his eyes falling shut, head pushing into your touch slightly while he grunted. You smiled at that. Kissing his cheek while wrapping your other arm around his neck. "I was gunna go shower, you can wait here?" You spoke against his skin while his lips pressed gentle kisses to the crook of your neck. Causing a small hum to leave your throat. By the way he smirked against your skin, in response. You could tell he had other plans. He just got there, he wasn't about to let you go for even a second.

"Really?" He murmured, kissing up the side of your neck. Loose strands of your hair tickling at his nose. You nodded, 'yes.' "How funny, I wanted to take a shower, too." He grumbled. "How about we take a shower together? To save water, of course." He sighed out, nipping the skin under your ear. Then your earlobe. Your hands gripping at his shoulders while gasping.

He nuzzled your cheek with a grin. "Well, if your up for it?" You shuddered at how his voice seemed to lower a few octaves. His hands gripping at your hips. Trying to slip them under your shirt, until he pulled back and realized you were in a dress. Cursing under his breath. It made you giggle. His eyes flashing back to yours. "I'm up for it, if you are." You admitted. Fidgeting with his chest plate as he grinned back to you. "How bout we leave your armor in my room.. need you comfortable, right?" You purred, and he was up in nearly an instant. Hands pulling you up. Causing you to gasp and titter.

The two of you ventured to your room. Wolffe muttering soft nothings in your ear. "I've missed you so much, you know that?" He commented. Hands roaming anywhere he could reach. Urging you to nearly sprint to your bedroom to head for the fresher and start the water. "You want me to mark you up like last time? Leave a little reminder until next time we see each other?" He rumbled, keeping his voice down a bit. Your breath quivering, and you nodded faintly. Wolffe sniggered at that. Kissing your neck, hands fleeing to your waist while he trailed behind you.

You opened the door to your room. Wolffe practically shoving you inside while he scrambled to shut the door and then pin you against it. Lowering into your space while his lips were inches from yours. "You wanna.. tell me where you want my armor?" He asked, looking down to your lips, then back to your eyes. Darting his tongue out to lick his lips. You motioned past him to a chair by the bed. Gulping slightly. "On that chair is fine," "Alright, Cyar'ika." You whimpered a bit at the name. Never in a relationship had your previous partners made you feel the way he does, but he was just so.. Different. So wonderful.

He brought his now ungloved hand up to brush the backs of his fingers against your cheek. Then run his thumb over your bottom lip. "So beautiful," he growled, and you couldn't help but smile. You heart beating quicker with each passing moment. Bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face. Watching as he leant into the touch. "So handsome," you cooed. Running the tips of your fingers gently over his scar. Wolffe shuddering this time. Pulling away from you to head for the chair. Beginning to unlatch his armor on the way over. "Go start the water, you better be undressed by the time I'm in there, too." He ordered, and you hummed. "Yes, Commander." You teased. You knew that got him riled up. Stealing a glance from his lust filled gaze as you disappeared into the fresher.

He didn't waist anytime. Discarding his armor, weapon, and boots where he was told to. Then making his way to you. His safe place. His haven.

He could hear you humming, seeing your figure behind the glass as you stood beneath the water. Seeing your clothes in a hamper, discarding his blacks in the same. "It should be just right, I think?" You spoke. Wolffe climbing in with a small hum. The warm water hitting his sun-kissed skin. Watching as you turned to face him. Your hands reaching to his chest. Eyes scanning over his scars, and some newly achieved ones. "Does the water feel alright?" You asked, softly. Wolffe grunting in response. "Sure does, Cyare." He spoke. Bringing a hand up to wipe some hair from your face.

Your eyes were too focused on a rather big, still healing, wound on his arm. "What happened here?" You asked in a concerned tone. Brows furrowing. Eyes full of worry. Wolffe shook his head. Trying to swat your hand away as you went to study it. "Nothing," he told you. Making you huff out a sigh.

You looked up to him with a frown. "Wolffe, what happened?" You demanded, and he caved in. He knew you were as stubborn as he was, and he wasn't about to waste a shower with you by bickering over a silly cut. "Some shrapnel from an explosion pierced between my armor, I'm fine." You sighed. Hands moving back to trace over his older scars on his chest. Then gliding gently down his stomach. Feeling as his muscles clenched under your touch. Eyes studying his own. "You're so stubborn, you know that? Was it so hard to tell me that?" You teased. Wolffe sighing, rolling his eyes and head. Making you smile and giggle. Leaning in to press soft kisses to his neck. "So predictable too," "Predictable, huh?" He huffed and you snickered. Kissing up his jaw to his lips. "Yeah, you always roll your eyes, I know when you will by now." You poked and he grabbed at your hips with a bruising grip. Making you yelp. His lips moving to mold against yours.

Your hands moved up to wrap around his shoulders. Running through, and tugging at his hair. A low groan escaping his chest. Turning to press your back against the wall. The water hitting his back. His lips pulled from yours. You letting out a slight whine from the loss of affection. Wolffe smirking slightly at this. "I'm sure I could do some unpredictable things, Cyare. Have you squirming, making enough noise for everyone to hear." He growled.

You felt you core heat up. Inhaling sharply at his words. You both wanted each other, so desperately. It'd been months, but just for that. Wolffe was willing to play this out. You weren't sure what to expect now.

His hands moved to run down your sides, making you squirm. His rough fingers grazing over your stomach. Then dipping down to your inner thighs. Avoiding where you wanted attention the most. You nearly screamed at him for it, but you couldn't. Especially when his mouth moved to bite at your shoulder. Making you gasp.

He pulled away with that. Moving to grab a cloth and some soup. Squeezing some of it out onto the cloth. Closing the cap, and setting it aside. Handing you the cloth with a smirk. "Wash yourself, I'll wash your back." He spoke, and you raised your brows. "You aren't gunna wash yourself first, Commander?" You cooed. He sniggered at that. "I will after I'm done with you." He spoke, watching as your hands began to roam your own body. Lathering yourself up with soap. "Should I take my time?" A groan escaped his throat as you rubbed the cloth over your chest. "If you want cold water." He added, and you sighed. Both mentally cursing the fact the water didn't stay warm forever.

Once you finished, he took the cloth from you. Ordering you to turn around. Which you did. You were sure you'd put on a bit more of a show for him though. With the threat of the water cooling, and the fact he could carry this on for literal hours. You didn't feel like waiting all night for him to stop with the charades. Your hands pressing against the wall. Arching your back. Sticking your ass out a bit while your legs slid apart.

You peaked over your shoulder with a small grin. "This how you want me, Commander?" You asked, and you could tell you were playing with fire. His composer faltering. Hands flexing. Then he looked back up to you with a lustful gaze. "Yes," he hushed.

He got to soaping up your back. Groping your ass with his free hand. Small noises leaving your lips here and there that had him going absolutely wild on the inside.

He removed the shower head to spray down your body. Taking his time, again, and you were losing patience.

You leant back, meaning to press your ass against him, but he caught you. Pushing your hips forward again. "No," he grunted, and you pouted a bit. "Wolffe.." you whined and he smirked, putting the shower head back once he was satisfied. Leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder. Snaking an arm around your waist to tease his fingers at your entrance. A finger running over your folds, and it had you yelping. "Wolffe, please," "please what? Tell me what you want, and maybe I'll do it." He directed.

You opened your mouth to say something when his finger ran over your clit. If it weren't for the wall and his grip on your waist you'd be on the floor by now. "Please, I want you," he chuckled. Lips kissing and sucking on your shoulder. "Gunna have to be more specific. " you groaned, frustrated and tired of his games. "Makers sake, I want you to fuck me." You snapped, and he hummed. Smiling against your shoulder. "You didn't ask nicely."

You nearly cried when you lost his hand between your legs. Leaning forward more, but not for long. He spun you around. Pressing your back to the wall. Lips crashing against your once more. Catching you in a hungry kiss. Though it didn't last long. His lips on a mission. Working down your body. Biting, licking, sucking, kissing. Anywhere he could reach that had you panting and writhing.

He sunk lower until he was on his knees. Something that didn't often happen, but when it did you knew you were in for a hell of a trip.

His hands pulled your thighs so they were slung over his shoulders. Giving him perfect access to your cunt. His eyes gazing up threw hooded lids. Breath fanning over your entrance. Hands racing to tangle in his hair. "Who's in charge here?" You groaned at his words, "Wolffe, please." "Ah-Ah, answer me, Who's in charge. Senator." You licked your lips. Chest heaving a bit. "You are, sir." He smirked, "Good girl."

You nearly lost it, especially when he leant forward. Eyes still staring up to watch your features while he pressed a kiss to your clit. One hand keeping your thighs from crushing his head. The other helping tease you.

He pushed a finger in you. Curling it while he pressed his tongue in. Your face contorting, throwing your head back while you furrowed your brows. Releasing a rather pent up moan. "Fuck, Wolffe," he groaned when you tugged at his hair. Shoving another finger inside you. Licking and lapping until you were shaking and babbling.

When you were close, you let out a gasp. Tugging his hair once more. "Wolffe, oh, kriff, Commander, I'm close." He smirked. Giving one last lick, then pulling his finger out. Letting your legs drop back to the ground. Wolffe keeping you up still while you shook and pouted.

"Cyare," he licked off his fingers. And you couldn't tell if the liquid dripping down his chin was you or the water. "I'm going to finish showering, and you are too." He told you. Standing to meet you. Your eyes half lidded. "And your going to dry off and get ready, and meet me in your bed, am I understood?" He spoke. Beginning to rub soap over his own body. Nearly breaking when you saw how hard he was already. "Cyare, am I understood?" He snapped, and you nodded your head. "Yes, you are." He raised a brow. "Sir," "good." He kissed your cheek. Begging to rinse himself off and work some shampoo in his hair.

The shower felt like ages, and all you two needed to really do was wash your hair. But you were still trying to regain composer, and you barely knew how he was keeping sane. Wanting to reach out and touch him, but you knew he could and would keep doing this all night until you broke into a million pieces.

He climbed out, leaving you alone. Though he didn't forget to run a hand over the small of your back before his way out. Keeping your hands to yourself, which only made him smirk. "Wolffe," "hm?" He asked as he dried himself. More of a grumble, really. "You want me to get dressed, too?" You asked. Finishing rinsing the soap from your hair. Then shutting the water. "Just a towel is fine, Cyare. Don't keep me waiting," he pried.

When he left the fresher you climbed out yourself. Drying your hair, and then your body. Trying to fix your still damp locks so you didn't look, too, ridiculous. Letting out a soft huff before sneaking out in your towel.

Wolffe was sat on the bed. Looking up at you, raising a brow. You stood there for a moment, expecting him to tell you to do something, but he just motioned you to come over. Holding his arms out for you. So you did.

You climbed over his lap, straddling his waist. Hands holding at his shoulders while you looked down to him. "I've missed you, so much," you spoke. Running your fingers up the side of his neck, and then to his cheek. Brushing a drop of water off his tanned skin. "Missed you, too, Cyare." He added. Kissing you slowly, then parting. "Now lay down."

You climbed off him. Wolffe pulling the towel off from around out. Allowing you to lay down bare in front of him. Letting his own towel drop down onto the floor. "On my back?" You asked, and he nodded as he climbed in between your legs. Large hands holding your thighs. Running them up and down your skin. "I want to watch you, while I tear you apart." His words made you shudder. Thighs attempting to clench, but they just squeezed around his waist. "Wolffe," you cooed, "I want you, please." He leant down and connected his lips with yours. "There's my nice girl," he praised. Bringing a free hand to cup your chin as he positioned himself. "Wait," you spoke, and he cocked a brow. Growing a bit concerned for a second there. "Can I.." you trailed off. Running your fingers through his damp hair. "Ride you?"

Wolffe nearly collapsed. The two of you had slept together, sure, but never had you offered to ride him. He never asked, either. He didn't want to pressure you, or scare you, or make you in any shape or form uncomfortable. So he was thrilled that you asked. Nodding softly. "Yeah, sure." He spoke, a bit in shock.

You pushed his chest lightly. Shoving him to lay on his back. Straddling his hips again. His hands moving to rest on your thighs while you got yourself positioned. "Beautiful, " he purred. Eyes roaming your body. Whispering more sweet nothings, and feeling you up. While you lowered yourself onto him. "Kriff," he groaned. Your walls clenching, legs trembling a bit. It was something your body never seemed to adjust to. Especially since he was always gone for weeks or even months at a time.

You lowered your upper body, fingers digging into his chest. Face hidden in the crook of his neck while you panted and adjusted. Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Wolffes hands roaming and rubbing your back. "You're doing so good, shh, I love you more than maker knows." He muttered sweet nothings. You whispering a small 'I love you, too,' back.

Once you felt accustomed to the feel, you rocked your hips forward. Your mouth falling open a bit, and his hands went back to position at your hips. Pulling your upper body back up to look down at him hands splayed on his chest. "Mm, Kriff," you moaned. Raising yourself, and then falling back onto him.

You continued this motion for a bit, and when Wolffe felt the time was right. He started thrusting his hips up, meeting your hips. Small noises leaving your lips while he fucked up into you. Your fingers clawing at his chest. Small mewls leaving you while he groaned.

You were trying to quicken the speed, legs beginning to tire. Wolffe could tell, the way your thighs trembled under his touch. So he took your hips to help hold you up. Propping his legs up a bit more while he trusted into you. The newer angle making you gasp. Vision blurring, seeing stars. "Wolffe, oh maker, there, oh stars!" You babbled. Wolffe making it his personal mission to hit that spot with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were nearing the brim, nearly overflowing with pleasure. "I'm, so close," you gasped in between thrusts. Wolffe already knew, by the way you were clenching around him, and the way your eyes were falling shut with pleasure. "Look at me," he demanded. You fighting to keep your eyes open as his hips snapped up into you. Hitting that bundle of nerves again, making your arch your back. Slapping a hand to your mouth to hold back your scream of pleasure. Walls clenching around him, making his orgasm hit shortly after. "Oh, Cyare," "Wolffe-" you both exclaimed at the same time. Him letting a few more sloppy thrusts happen while he shot his seed into you. Allowing you to pull off and then collapse onto his chest once he was done.

You were both panting. Sweaty. "So much for that shower," you exhaled. Kissing his chest. Rubbing slightly over the red marks you left. "Hmm," he grunted, "We'll just have to take another." You let out a weak chuckle. Eyes falling shut. "Separate.." you breathed out while his hand ran through your hair. Drifting off to sleep on his chest while your body attempted to come down from its high. "Maybe."

[ssiggss]

I made a whole AU in my head yesterday and I'm debating whether or not to invest in it but chances are, knowing me, I'm gonna do it anyway-

Please ignore the absolute MESS that this is- it is completely disorganized 😭🖐

So basically I replaced the Arcane Order with my own OC I literally just made for this specific reason as the villain.

His name is Pyelan, (pronounced PIE-LAN) and he's an old god of peace- very powerful and ancient. However, he's grown corrupted and angry at humanity for the amount of needless war and death in their history.

He sees the pollution of Earth and the sickness, and takes it upon himself to fix it, having gone mad after the eons he spent alone.

The humans stopped worshipping him, that is why they have no peace, they've destroyed everything, in his mind the only option is to create a whole new Earth with a new species that would do better.

He seeks The Arcane Order, knowing who they are (having once been friends in ancient times) and means to have them open the genesis seals and wipe out humanity forever.

(I'm taking what Tobias said in the interrogation scene in ROTT and running- the bit abt The Arcane Order being the creators of everything.)

(Also, I like to think each of them had a hand in different species, Bellroc creating trolls and changelings, Skrael creating humans and goblins and Nari creating the animals of the Earth- with input from eachother of course. Though I'm still hammering out the details)

In this AU, The Arcane Order do not hate humanity, are more so disappointed and eager to fix the imbalance so humanity and all beings could return to their lives.

They understood his plight, but told him that because they created humans, they would find a way to restore balance without killing them off.

This throws him into a vengeful rage- could they not see that their humans have failed them? Could they not see the damage humanity has done to their planet?

If the gods who created this world were too stupid to see the truth and fix it themselves, then he would do it.

During an opportune moment, Pyelan steals Nari away and holds her hostage- this is where The Arcane Order enlists the help of their old friend's apprentice, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Douxie involves the Trollhunter and his merry band of armored children and various peoples, and there ensues many scenes of Bellroc and Skrael interacting with everyone.

So Pyelan pretends to be remorseful, tells them to meet them at the roundhouse to return Nari to them.

Obviously its a trick, but he still manages to gain control over all three of them and releases the titans- now its up to Jim and everyone else to save creation, and the creators.

Steve does NOT get pregnant but instead, the 'seventh kiss' is an engagement, meaning he would become king- a huge responsibility he's not sure he can fulfill. (Possible subplot about Steve gaining true confidence in himself and a tear-jerking scene where he looks up at the sky and hopes his mentor is proud of him after the final battle.)

Claire, Douxie, Archie, his father and Blinky still go to find the Khronosphere- it was Bellroc who told them to find it this time, their last words before they succumbed to Pyelan's mind control.

Archie chooses to stay with Douxie, there would be a heart wrenching scene where he and his father says quick goodbyes as the wall seals.

"Take care of eachother," he says, "I love you, son."

Varvatos still comes down in the bigass robot, but this time he has a co-pilot and its Zadra.

They actually manage to take Bellroc down, and Jim insists on going up and talking to Bellroc in hopes of breaking Pyelan's control.

"Is this what you truly want? C'mon!" he says as he battles against them upon crumbling molten rock. "You are who you make yourself, don't let him think for you!"

Bellroc is freed from Pyelan's control, discovers that they had been tricked by Pyelan and that Skrael and Nari were still in danger- they go ballistic.

Zoe's called in by Douxie to aid them, and she and Krel pair up as the designated tech nerds and they get a whole scene with some crazy cool akiridion tech/mechromancer wizard shit that frees Skrael from Pyelan's control- two down, one to go.

Claire is ofc a badass, portals Bellroc's titan to Arcadia and then shit really hits the fan.

In this AU, Toby and Steve fight alongside Jim against Pyelan, Strickler doesn't die but instead tends to a severely wounded Nomura with Barbara.

Pyelan uses Nari and her titan against the other two, Bellroc and Skrael are trying desperately to not hurt her too badly, but its not going so well.

Varvatos and Zadra's robot goes down against Pyelan, who ends up fighting Jim, Toby and Steve directly.

Instead of Toby dying, Jim sacrifices himself one last time as the Trollhunter, defeating Pyelan but taking himself along in the process.

This prompts everyone else to make a unanimous decision to use the Khronoshpere to save Jim.

The Trollhunter has saved countless lives, and now its their turn to save the Trollhunter.

Rewinding back to when Pyelan first set the trap for Bellroc and Skrael, they defeat him much much quicker this time.

Everyone knows what his next move will be as they all retained their memories, and Jim is safe.

The balance is slowly but surely fixing itself as time goes on, The Arcane Order are dedicated and often visit Arcadia to take breaks or to enlist help for certain missions.

Steve becomes king, ruling alongside Aja and later in their adulthood, they have children. (with much better designs)

Barbara and Strickler get married, and later so do Claire and Jim, and when I tell you that wedding was a sight to behold.

Toby is much more confident in himself, and is known all throughout Arcadia as a hero, The Trollhunters partner- Keeper of Peace.

"I'll do a much better job than the last guy, trust me."

All in all theres lots of things I gotta figure out for this AU, but its purely for self-indulgence because I can't stand the ending of ROTT. And also I was told all headcanons are canon now so I am doing what I must

[hansoulo]

how will I know; walk slow

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Word Count: a humble 1.4k

Warnings: cursing, light angst, a kiss (sorta), spoilers for chapter 15 of the mandalorian

Gif Credit: (x) by @/bestintheparsec

A/N: hello bros and hoes it is me and i am back with another oneshot this time set right after chapter 15 with a title from this song by james blake

You bounded down the hangar ladder and stood toe-to-toe, heart stuck in your mouth and lodging up in your tonsils until the word came out thick and without eloquence. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry,” the Mandalorian offered. He didn’t really have anything to be sorry for. Sometimes the guy was just polite to a fault.

“It’s alright.” The words left your chest hushed, conscious of the footsteps up and around you that echoed tinny on the walls of Slave 1. Soft assurances. Gentle platitudes. “You’re here now, yeah?”

Mayfeld was “dead” doing Maker knows what. Fennec and Cara were both off in the ship somewhere, probably polishing blasters and trading war secrets with each other as intimidating Outer Rim women tended to do. That or in the communications monitor room below deck, doing far more risque things. Boba was piloting and making sure none of you died. And the Mandalorian was here. Standing in the cold metal cargo hold. In front of you.

His chest, in beskar now, not that shoddy Imperial shit, shook with a sigh. “Yeah,” the helmet rasped. It sounded like he was speaking more to himself. “Yeah.”

Why do you do that?

   Do what?

You’re very… monosyllabic. It’s unsettling.

   Unsettling.

You know you’re just continuing to prove my point, right?

   Mhm.

Maker, you’re infuriating.

   Yes, I am.

Hey that was three words! Progress.

Your throat tightened with a swallow when you realized you still stood only inches apart from him. Feet shuffled backwards in the small hangar until he was left at a larger, more friend-appropriate distance. “That’s good. I’m… I’m glad.”

The air in the ship was thick, with relief and with another heavy thing. Regret, maybe? But what did he have to regret?

“Mando,” you called out as he turned to step up the ladder. Names were sacred things. You didn’t want to use his here. To dirty it by sharing. “Hey,” your hand met the cold metal of his pauldron, urging him to face you again. He was still. Always so still. “Did something happen?”

   I’m fine.

You’re hurt.

   It’s nothing serious.

Let me help. 

   I’ll take care of it.

Or let the kid help. Somebody.

   I said I’ll take care of it.

Let me take care of you. Please. 

His words came almost too quick. He was like that when he tried to convince you of things. “No. No, we… we got the coordinates. Everything went-”

“According to plan,” you finished for him, though your brows were still furrowed.

What’s the plan?

   We get the kid back.

So… what you’re saying is that there is no plan.

   There is a plan.

What’re you gonna do?

   Whatever it takes.

You’re so dramatic.

“Mayfeld wouldn’t tell me anything about what happened before he fucked off, though, which is weird because usually he never shuts up and I just...” you sighed, wiping a hand across your face and letting it drop unceremoniously beside your hip. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look,” and here your voice paused, waiting for the words to fill themselves in. “Rattled.”

You look like shit.

   Thanks.

Welcome. You good?

   You just said I look like shit.

Well yeah, but I’m trying to redeem myself. Throw me a bone.

   Then yeah, I’m good.

You’re a horrible liar.

   Hey, you asked.

Yeah, I guess so. Take it easy for a bit? Can’t have you falling asleep piloting.

   Glad to know your only concern is for your transportation.

Don’t forget the paycheck.

   That too.

Seriously, though. Go get some sleep. I’ll be here.

There was a pregnant pause, only filled in by your quiet expectance and the sounds of beskar shifting on fabric. He moved his weight from one foot to the other. Looked down, then up.

And then, before you could go to actually leave, not wanting to pry a thing open that the man wanted to keep shut and done with having to reach the words out of his mouth, you were picked up and turned around. Like a sack of ration flour. 

In literally any other circumstance this would’ve made you seethe but Din’s hands, although surprising, weren’t unwelcome. The furthest thing from it, actually.

There were two warm palms on your sides and your feet stumbled on top of each other until they both left the floor again, suspended above the metal sheeting as you were lifted up and crushingly close to a man that smelled like blood and sweat and someone else’s clothes but who still held you until your ribs cried out for breathing. 

You were set down after a moment, but not let go. Silent words seemed to fracture in the way his fingers dug into the skin of your hip, almost bruising in their insistence. He couldn’t tell you what happened, but something obviously did. Something ugly and beating loud in the two-inch gap between your chests and really, really bad.

There were only about two things in the galaxy that he was afraid of. Losing the kid was one of them. Breaking his Creed was the other.

So what’s with the helmet?

   What about it?

You can never take it off?

   No.

Like, never? In front of anyone?

   Not unless it’s family.

And what happens if you do? Take it off in front of someone else, I mean.

   You can’t ever put it back on.

Oh, right. Sorry.

   It’s okay.

No, it’s not. I- I shouldn’t have asked. I dunno. It just seems…

   Bad. 

No, not bad! Not if it’s something you believe. Just… different. 

And suddenly you knew why he was holding you the way he was.

The words were hitched, almost keening as your arms wound around his neck, over the thick fabric of his cape until his hands reached around the lower slope of your back to steady your ground. You could feel the indentations of his metal vambraces against your skin. You couldn’t have cared less about it. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. He only let out a breath, the sound so rattled and tremulous you could almost taste the salt dew gathering in his eyes. Eyes that someone else saw.

The muscles of his arms grew firmer around you still and your body sagged, heavy in its aching realizations. “I’m so sorry,” you repeated.

To someone else more ambitious this would probably be a good time to do… a gesture. Of the sentimental variety. Neither of you lacked courage in the traditional definition, but this kind of stuff was messy. Uncharted. 

“Din,” you whispered. His helmet shot up at the monosyllable, nearly knocking you in the chin and you stumbled backwards, shaking off his apologies. So the charting of said uncharted stuff was going swell. “I,” you began, your eyes shifting around the walls and floor instead of meeting his visor. “I care about you. A lot. I hope you know that.”

There was a loud whirring overhead when the ship lurched forward, righting itself with an awkward turn and giving you a good excuse as to why you suddenly felt nauseous. Maybe you overstepped or he didn’t hear you because he hit his head? Holy shit, did he get a concussion? Was that why he was-

“I know.”

Oh.

So no concussion.

You only realized you’d been biting the bottom edge of your lip when a gloved thumb came up towards it, pressing against the soft flesh and pulling it gently out from between your teeth. A breath choked in the bottom of both your lungs. And you waited.

You couldn’t kiss him.

At least, not now. Not here. Not yet.

You were both thinking about it.

So you did something decidedly ambitious. You leaned forward and pressed your mouth to the crest of his helmet.

It wasn’t a kiss, not really. But he still tilted his helmet up to meet it with two broad hands and you still left a smudge of mouthmark where your lips were damp and tender and so somehow this imitation kiss, this substitute in between a moment that was over and a moment that was coming, was real. 

Your bounty hunter echoed his reciprocation after you’d turned away, the rungs of the ship ladder icy in your palms. You always did like to one-up each other.

“I love you.”

[troubatrain]

runaway (part two) - n. patrick

a/n: shoutout to tumblr being down and not having work because i somehow cranked out both of these parts in one day. i’ve settled on this series being a small series of smut that sort of just follows a storyline and i’m really excited about it. anyways i’m tagging @hookingminor​ for reading this while i wrote it and gassing me up and @princessphilly​ & @texanstarslove​ because it’s whore hours here

warnings - smut this is all literally smut

part one - part three

It was St. Patrick’s day in Boston, and Nolan was hoping that a second round of luck was on its way. Nolan hadn’t seen much of you since you left to go home a few days after that night. You were living in his head rent fucking free, and it was unfair. It was unfair that he got to see every thirst trap you posted on Instagram, but he’d be damned if he thought about liking it. It was unfair that you were definitely Kevin’s favorite sibling and he talked about you all time. It was unfair he had to watch Kevin make out with some chick while he couldn’t do anything about you across the bar. And it was beyond cruel that you were shaking your ass with your roommates in a too big Celtics jersey and Nolan couldn’t do anything to ward off the dudes who had their eyes on you. His grip on his beer tightened, knuckles white and anger coursing through his veins while you rejected the like fifth guy that night.

“Hey dude, keep an eye on her okay?” Kevin asks, snapping Nolan out of his thoughts while he got ready to head out with his friend in tow. The Flyers had played a hard fought afternoon game against the Bruins, and with a day off promised the next day Nolan was sure it was going to be a late night, “I’m serious Patty, she’s two tequila shots with TK away from a mess.”

“I think I can handle your sister,” Nolan scoffs, eager to get Kevin the fuck out of that bar so he could talk to you for more than five minutes. He watched Kevin leave, turning his attention to you and smiling when he saw you laughing with your friends.

“Boston in Boston? It’s like seeing you in your natural habitat,” Nolan jokes, a hand landing on your lower back. You laugh, throwing your head and wrapping your arms around Nolan’s waist. You looked around, your brother was nowhere to be seen and you thought the coast was clear, “He’s gone.”

“Do I want to know?” You ask, scrunching up your nose knowing damn well why your brother left early. Nolan shook his head, sparing you the details and smirking at you, “And what about you Patty? Chasing a girl out of here too?”

“Unless it’s you,” Nolan husks in your ear, his deep voice sent shivers down your spine, a calloused finger slipping over the basketball jersey you stole from one of your brothers, “We had so much fun last time.”

You did have fun. You were sad and Nolan was making you feel infinitely better. Now some time has passed, the wounds on your heart healing and single life was good. Nolan’s eyes were staring into yours, holding your gaze while you decided what to do. On one hand, one time was one thing but twice was another. How long could you fuck around with Nolan before Kevin caught on? Probably a while given your brother wasn’t always the brightest, but he’d figure it out eventually.

“Take me home Nolan,” You breathe, sliding out of your phone and ordering the quickest Uber you could to your place. Nolan was grinning, hands wrapped around your waist when you were finally free from the eyes of his teammates.

Your apartment was the complete opposite of Kevin’s. Nolan’s eyes scanned over the art prints and pictures of your family that decorated the walls, his eyes scanning the titles that lined up against your record player. Maybe you had more in common than Nolan thought. He’d overthink it later, because your lips were on his neck and your fingers were toying with his zipper and if he didn’t find a release soon he’d lose it. You were the best he’s had, Nolan spent countless nights alone using that night to get himself off. You got him off. You were irresistible, and it was going to get Nolan in trouble.

Your fingers unhooked Nolan’s jeans, pulling the zipper and going down with it. Nolan groans, tilting your chin up to look at him, his finger ran across your lip. You took it into your mouth, Nolan’s eyes practically rolling to the back of his head, “You’re trouble.”

“Haven’t you heard, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life?” You muse, pulling Nolan’s boxers down, springing his cock free. Nolan had heard all about it, Kevin’s perfect baby sister, who was smarter than anyone he knew and had a heart of gold. You were perfect but it was more about how good your mouth looked when you took his cock into your mouth and less about what your brother thought. Your fingers were tracing his thigh tattoos, your mouth popping off his dick and your attention on those, “I like these.”

“Me too, but if you could maybe,” Nolan whines, an actual plea to get your mouth back where he needed it most. His hands were in your hair, and if he didn’t think you’d smack the shit out of him he would’ve moved your head himself.

“Like this?” You press a kiss to the tip of his dick, letting your mouth hover just above it. You bat your eyelashes, watching the way Nolan’s face was getting redder the more you egged him now. You lick the underside of his cock, tracing a vein as slowly as you could, “Or like this?”

“If you don’t start being a good girl I’m not going to let you cum,” Nolan growls, his voice deep and raspy, a chill running up your spine. You rub your thighs together, Nolan’s voice was fucking delicious. You take him into your mouth, bobbing your head while Nolan hit the back of your throat, “Fuck, can I-”

You nod, feeling Nolan’s dick twitch in your mouth and his cum hit the back of your throat, he let out a groan. You swallow as much as you could, finally take your mouth off Nolan’s cock and let the rest spill down your chin. Nolan slides his thumb across your jaw, picking up his cum and pushing it into your mouth, groaning when you happily obliged, “Do I get to cum now?”

Nolan chuckles, lacing his fingers with yours and letting you drag him into your bedroom. You tossed the jersey, sliding off your jeans and leaving yourself in the matching black lace set you were grateful you chose to wear, “Look at you.”

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“All of this for me?”

“I’m going to ruin you.”

Nolan’s words were pressed against your skin while he took his time with you, running his hands all over your body. His hands grip your thighs, turning you around, “Get on your knees for me.”

You nod, biting your lip when you could feel Nolan’s breath fanning your pussy, his finger slips under your panties, sliding them down pressing kisses to your ass, “Nolan enough teasing.”

You were whining, whimpering when Nolan’s hand came in contact with your ass, his tongue was flat against your pussy, teasing even more, “I said good girl.”

A finger slid inside you, and you let out a moan that was embarrassingly loud, Nolan’s name slipping from your lips while you begged for more. You needed to get off, so worked up past the point of no return. Nolan slid in a second finger, curling his fingers inside you and pressing a kiss dangerously close to your asshole, “You can Nols.”

You were his dream girl, that’s it, you were Nolan Patrick’s dream girl and he couldn’t have you. He groans against your skin, his tongue rimming your hole and pushing his fingers inside your pussy faster. You were soaked, clenching around Nolan’s fingers and letting out a scream. You fish out a condom from your nightstand, tossing it to Nolan and muttering something under your breath, “What was that Boston?”

“Want you inside me,” You breathe you, shaking your ass in front of Nolan because you wanted him so badly. Nolan’s eyes went darker, rolling on the condom and slipping inside of you. He gave just a second to adjust before his hands were on your hips and he was pushing you into your mattress, “Fuck, I missed your cock.”

“Yeah?” Nolan muses, his pace steady while you fall apart underneath him, “I’m only the person who makes you feel like this huh?”

“Yes, fuck, Nolan I’m going to cum again,” You pussy tightened around Nolan’s cock, pulling his second high out of him and into the condom.

You finally fell onto the bed, fucked into oblivion. The grip you had on your sheets was released, Nolan admiring you below him. Slow breaths escaped your lips, your eyes closing and opening from how tired you were, “We’re never going to be able to stop doing this are we?”

“I think we’re going to have to do this a few more times,” You agree, poking one eye open while Nolan tossed you a t-shirt from your dresser, “I’ll be back in Philly soon.”

“Really?” Nolan smiles, kissing your head while he got himself dressed. He didn’t want to leave, another time where he wanted to hold you and press his lips against all the spots he marked on you, but getting caught wasn’t an option.

“I have a Grad School interview at UPenn,” You muse, sliding on the t-shirt and tucking yourself into bed, “It’s not a big deal-”

“Sounds like a pretty big deal,” Nolan disagrees, hoping he could steal you for a night away from your brother. He took one more look at you, biting his lip and thinking about just saying fuck it and staying but he knew he just couldn’t, “See you then Boston.”

Nolan heard one protest about how you hated that nickname, laughing to himself and throwing on the hoodie he thought was his. It was dark, and before Nolan could catch his mistake he was sporting a Boston College hoodie while he left your place - hoping there wasn’t a chance he’d run into Kevin. He made it to his hotel room without seeing anyone, a throat clearing when he finally got into his room. Travis’s voice echoed through the room.

“Is that Kevin’s? What is he dressing you now?”

[heyitsani]

So Devoid of Color

@dickgraysonweek Day 4: Bruce hits Dick and doesn’t get away with it

Word Count: 3161

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Off screen violence, Dami might say a bad word

Pairing: None

Summary: Tim, Jason, and Damian learn something about Bruce and Dick’s relationship that none of them are willing to let continue.

Notes: I think this is my second time writing from Tim’s POV and I’m still not certain I’ve got a good grasp on it.  But here it is all the same.

You can also read this on AO3 here

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The Cave went deathly silent in the aftermath.

For those 30 or so seconds immediately after the distinct sound of a fist hitting a cheekbone, it was like they had landed in a vacuum of sound.

It was such a startling contrast to the shouting that had led up to that exact moment.  The fight between Dick and Bruce hadn’t been surprising. When Red Robin had called Nightwing on his private comm line to report that Robin had been shot on patrol, he had known the eldest would panic.  And when he found out it was because Batman had made a mistake, Tim knew shit would hit the fan.

Quite literally.

But Tim hadn’t anticipated Bruce taking a swing at Dick when the latter had accused Bruce of purposefully using Damian as a shield so he could go after Two Face himself.  It wasn’t even one of the worst things he had heard Dick tell Bruce in the heat of an argument, but something about it had pushed Bruce over an edge none of them had realized he could go over.  Sure, Bruce could be a hard ass, but Tim had never seen him get to this point.  And a quick glance at Jason, who was coiled tight with his hands clenched tightly at his side, revealed that Tim wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

He expected Dick to swing back, to say something in retaliation, but instead he watched his brother straightened and wipe at the blood now dripping from his nose.  From this angle Tim could see the angry mark Bruce’s gauntlet had left on Dick’s cheekbone and it made him wonder if there was anything broken beneath the surface.

“That’s your one free hit, Bruce.  I’m not the kid you used to push around to win arguments anymore.  Nor am I emotionally compromised to the point that you can manipulate me into getting your way,” Dick spoke lowly, voice dangerous and anger simmering just below the surface.  It was rare to hear that particular tone come from Dick, but it never failed to send a shiver down his spine.  For all the sunshine Dick projected, most weren’t aware of the precision of the weapon he could be.  “I told you if you couldn’t protect him that I would.  He’s still legally mine.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m stating facts.  I may have been disposable to you over the years, but you are out of your fucking mind if you think I’ll let you hurt him the same way.”  Movement out of the corner of his eye pulled Tim’s surprised attention from the pair, finding Jason stalking forward.  And Tim knew that walk, he knew that look.  

Jason was pissed and that didn’t bode well for one or both of them.

“What the fuck did you mean by that?”  Jason demanded, grabbing Dick’s shoulder to turn him to face him instead of Bruce. But Dick didn’t respond, and Tim could see his jaw clench from here.  In fact, at this angle he could get a much better look at the damage Bruce had done and it was definitely looking like Dick’s cheek was starting to swell.  

“What on god’s green earth is going on out here?”  Alfred’s stern voice broke through the silence that had fallen over them again and Tim spared the elderly man a glance before he moved over to where Jason and Dick were still facing each other.  He could tell they were having one of their silent conversations, but that wouldn’t stop him.

“It’s nothing Alfred,” Bruce huffed, causing Dick and Jason to tense up even more.  “How is Damian?”

“Dick?”  Tim spoke softly, not wanting to pull too much attention to himself.  It took a moment before his brother looked over at him and Tim tensed at the look in his eyes.  It was unfamiliar and difficult to put a name to.  But there was something that concerned him there.  He placed a hand on Dick’s upper arm before looking to Jason, finding the other man already considering him with a curiosity that Tim knew well.

Jason’s eyes narrowed just slightly, and Tim gave him a nod before looking back to Dick and making a show of raising his hand to the bruise on his cheek so he would see it coming. “Not broken,” he muttered.  Dick nodded and Jason gave a huff of air while Tim continued to poke at the cheek in question.  “Who is going to get him?”  He whispered as he worked.  Dick jerked in surprise, eyebrows drawing down in confusion, but Tim knew Jason would get it.

“He’s more likely to come with me than you.  You ride with Goldie.  We’ll meet you.”  Tim as he let his hands fall away from Dick’s face, satisfied that nothing needed immediate attention.  It could wait until they got back one of the safehouses.  “Go to the one I showed you after that Penguin fight where Ivy showed.”

Remembering that night and what a mess it had been, Tim also remembered that it was one of the safehouses that Jason always kept stocked up on medical supplies.  If they were going to have Damian with a gunshot wound and Dick with his face, they needed supplies.  “All right,” he agreed, looking over his shoulder to see Bruce watching them with his eyes narrowed and Alfred frowning beside him.

“You two want to clue me in?”  Dick finally spoke up, voice just barely above a whisper and threaded tight with tension.  

Tim watched Jason give his shoulder a squeeze before sending Tim a look that spoke volumes.  “Come on, Dick.  Get your gear.  We’re leaving,” he told his brother as Jason walked away toward the other two men.

“Wait, Tim,” Dick protested, pulling his elbow out of the younger’s grip.  “I can’t just leave Damian.  Not while he’s hurt.”

Sighing, Tim stopped and looked up at Dick.  “We’re leaving.”  His tone gave no room for argument, but Tim also knew Dick was practically made to argue. “Trust me.  Trust Jason.”  Dick stared at him for a moment before looking toward the medbay where Damian was resting.  Tim knew he was considering the options and that whatever he decided now would say a lot about their relationship.

“Okay,” he finally agreed, and Tim gave him a nod before heading over to where he had left his gear, Dick’s not far from it.  There was a moment more of hesitation before Dick finally turned away and grabbed his own gloves and helmet.  “I’ll follow you?”

Where Tim would have usually thrown out a snarky remark and a smirk, he instead nodded and hopped onto his own motorcycle before turning the engine over.  Once he was sure Dick was set and ready to go, he gave one last glance behind them to see Jason and Bruce nose to nose and Alfred no where in sight.  He wasn’t sure what it meant for the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care at the moment.  Not when he had just seen his adoptive father punch one of his brothers.  Not when it wasn’t the first time, apparently. No.  He almost hoped Jason would return the favor and knock Bruce down on his ass.  Almost.

But that wasn’t a thought train he could go down at the moment.  He had more important things to do, like getting Dick out of there and fixing up his brother’s face once they got to the safehouse.  Which didn’t take as long as he thought it would.  Of course, with it still being the early hours of the day, most of Gotham was either still asleep or just waking up for the day.  It made it easier to store their bikes in Jason’s hiding spot and sneak into the building without anyone seeing.

“This is Jay’s?”  Dick looked around, frowning as they stepped inside and tugged off their helmets.  He paused and looked at one of the posters hanging on the wall.  “Roy must use it,” he muttered.  Tim let him wander around as he made his way into the kitchen to grab the supplies under the sink and an ice pack in the freezer.

“Here,” he called out, tossing the pack toward Dick who caught it easily and gave him a small smile of thanks. “Will you tell me what you meant?” Tim asked as he opened the medical kit and began digging through it to make sure they had the things they would need for Damian.  When no response came from his brother, he looked up and found Dick frowning as he stared out the window.  “Dick?”

Blinking, the older man looked over at him and waved a hand.  “Don’t worry about it, Timmy.  Ancient history, and all that.”  Unfortunately for Dick, Tim was too good at reading him now and knew when he was deflecting.  So Tim watched him, taking in all the signs he had memorized over the years.  The tight line of his shoulders, the clenched fist at his side, the white knuckles of the hand pressing the ice pack just a bit too hard to his bruised cheek.  They told Tim more than Dick was willing to at the moment.

“How many times.”

It wasn’t a question and Tim wasn’t going to let Dick get away with brushing it under the rug, not this time.  Not this topic.  “Just drop it, Tim.  I’m already going to have to fight Jason on this.  Just…it’s not important.”

Tim scoffed.  “It was important enough to use against Bruce.” Which, throwing back at Dick at the moment was probably a bit of a low blow, but sometimes you had to play dirty to get Dick to talk.

“Look, don’t act like you don’t know of at least one other time he used his fists against me.”  The words were accusatory, but the tone was defeated.  It made Tim furrow his brows, trying to think of what Dick could possibly mean.  “I know there’s no chance you haven’t come across Bruce’s cowl footage from after the Crime Syndicate, before I joined Spyral.”

But Tim had no idea what Dick was talking about.  And it must have shown on his face because soon enough Dick had closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“A little help here,” Jason’s voice cut off anything either of them were planning on saying and Tim hurried over to take some of Damian’s weight from Jason.  A quick scan of the teen showed the blood seeping through the bandage at his shoulder and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.  The ride must have been rough.  “Let’s get him on the bed.”

Dick rushed ahead of them and fussed over the bedding so they could get Damian comfortable with minimal effort from the pair carrying him.  Jason let out a grunt when they set Damian down, leaning just slightly upright on the pillows Dick had stacked.

“I’ll grab the kit and change the bandage,” Tim muttered, looking at Jason before leaving the room to grab the supply kit he had been looking through moments earlier.  He paused on his way back into the room to grab the ice pack Dick had been using but dropped to hurry and help get the bed ready for the youngest of them.  “Dick,” he called, handing the ice pack back to him as he moved onto the side of the bed where the wound was.  Dick frowned but took the pack, pressing it back to his cheek.

“What-”  Damian tried to speak as Tim went to work on the bandage. The teen cleared his throat and clenched his jaw for a moment before slowly releasing a breath through his nose, all signs of how much pain he was in without showing it on his face.  “What happened, Richard?”  He asked, voice a bit raspy with the pain he was fighting.

“Nothing.”

“Bruce.”

Tim looked between Dick and Jason as they both answered, Dick sounding calming and Jason with the expected anger.  Honestly, he expected this from both of them.  Dick would forever be shielding Damian from what little bad the teen hadn’t already been exposed to.  And Jason would never sugar coat anything that had to do with Bruce.  Even if their relationship had been improving up until this point.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that would continue with what they witnessed tonight.

“Don’t,” Jason growled, pointing a finger at Dick who had opened his mouth to say something.  “You don’t get to lie or brush this off.  You suggested this wasn’t the first time and if that’s the case then we deserve to know.  He deserves to know.”

But Dick didn’t respond. Instead he turned his eyes onto Damian and Tim locked eyes with Jason.  The older man’s expression was grim and Tim felt his probably just looked exhausted. They had all dealt with Dick’s stubborn nature, but he wouldn’t win this time.  Not with all three of them pushing.

Not with what Dick had accidentally revealed before Jason and Damian had arrived.

“Tell us about after the Syndicate.”  Tim turned his eyes onto the bandages he was taping to Damian’s wound, which thankfully hadn’t torn any stitches.  The teen narrowed his eyes on him and Tim attempted to give him a smile.  He wasn’t Dick and he wasn’t good at comfort, but at least he and Damian had gotten over the feud they had suffered for so long. At least they trusted each other now.

With a shuffling sound, Tim glanced over to find Dick sitting on the edge of the bed near Damian’s feet with his eyes gazing off at a spot on the wall.  “I didn’t want to go.  I…” They watched him take a deep breath and release it slowly.  “I begged him to let me stay.  But he had already planned out the whole thing.  Had my funeral and told the world I had died.  Said it was the only way to make sure none of it happened to anyone else in the family.”

“But that has nothing to do with Bruce punching you tonight.”

“It doesn’t seem like it, but his words were not going to be enough to convince me,” Dick turned to Jason, who had moved to lean against the closest wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“And by that you mean….?” Tim considered what Dick said earlier and what he was saying now.  “The cave was trashed after your funeral.  Alfred said he had never seen so much damage.  And how it almost seemed too much for one person to do.  Even Bruce.”

The silence blanketed them for the second time that night and this time it was suffocating.  Whereas the air felt sucked from them earlier, this time it felt like it was weighing him down to the point that it would crush him where he sat with a hand still on Damian’s shoulder.  

That point of contact clued him into the fact that Damian was shaking.  Small tremors rippling through his muscles.  A barely contained anger.  And Tim didn’t blame him.  Damian had been dead and Dick had been devastated.  He said it was the only reason the Syndicate had been able to get the drop on him to begin with.  That if he hadn’t been so destroyed by Damian’s death, his focus wouldn’t have been in pieces. That they would never have grabbed him without a fight.  And that was enough to make the teen upset, but then throw in this new piece of information?  

“He beat you into submission,” Jason’s voice finally broke the silence, cutting through it like one of Damian’s katanas cut through flesh.  Effortlessly and deadly.  “That’s what you’re not willing to just come out and say.  He took an emotionally compromised man who had been beaten and strapped to a literal bomb, and beat the ever loving shit out of him to get him to do what he wanted.”

“Richard,” Damian whispered.

“You know what the time was like, Jason.  Tim. You both know what everyone was like,” Dick tried to reason, ignoring Damian’s almost-plea.  “None of us were our real selves, Bruce especially.”

There was a loud crash and Tim jerked as he snapped his eyes onto Jason, finding him breathing heavily and his eyes rimmed green.  “Don’t make excuses for him!”  Jason pushed off the wall and Tim noticed a dent next to him, assuming the crash had been a fist hitting the wall.  “None of us might have been the real versions of us, but none of us beat the shit out of people we supposedly cared about just to get them to submit!  You don’t get to brush this off like it’s no big deal. You don’t get to do that because if this had happened to any of us, you wouldn’t let us.”

“That’s different.”

“The fuck it is,” Damian cut in.  Tim watched Dick’s eyes go wide as he looked at the teen.  “It’s only different because you think you are not worth the same as the rest of us.  You value your life less than ours, but the same cannot be said for us.”  When Damian’s hand landed on Tim’s arm, he looked over and immediately jumped to help him sit more upright.  “Father is not infallible and your loyalty to him is a disservice to yourself.  And I for one will not stand for it any longer.”

“I’m with the kid,” Jason interjected, crossing his arms over his chest again.  Tim noticed the green had faded from his eyes, but his body was still one large ball of tension.  “This stops now.  I can’t do anything about what happened in the past, but if he lays a finger on you again and I will put him in his own grave.”

“You know they’re right, Dick.”  Tim spoke softly, keeping his own emotions out of it because Damian and Jason had enough for all of them.  “There’s more than you’re telling us, we all know it.  But this can’t happen again.  And when we tell the girls and Duke, they’ll all say the same thing.”  In fact, Tim cringed inwardly thinking about how Cass and Barbara would react once they heard.

“No,” Dick turned his wide eyes on Tim.  “You can’t tell them.  They don’t need to know.”

Tim sighed and shook his head.  “They do. They might already know what happened tonight, who knows where Babs has her cameras and mics set up down there. But we’re a family and we don’t keep these kinds of secrets.  They always backfire on us.  It’s time we learned that lesson.”

Jason moved over and set a hand on Dick’s shoulder.  “You can’t preach the family line to the rest of us and not think we’ll use it against you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick nodded, looking between the three of them before settling on Damian.  “Okay.”

[loving-all-for-loki]

Chapter 5: Dangers of love

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3273

Warnings: graphic description of injury, swearing

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @magicalpieex @lokiyoulittle @daddysfavoritesexkitten @buckylokisimp

A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away with this chapter because things are heated! We got some Bucky vs Loki conflict as well as hurt Bucky. It’s time to spice some things up in this love story.

“We need you! Bucky got hurt and may not live! We need you to save him!”

Panic begins to set in as you scramble to get off of Loki. You run towards Sam who’s eyes still dart between you and Loki who is laying on the floor, face covered in a disappointed appearance. Sam grabs your hand and pulls you toward the Quinjet, running as fast as you can.

Loki lays on the ground and watches you run off with Sam. The feeling of your body on top of him lingers and his eyes miss the sight of you. He knows Bucky is hurt and your job is to heal, but he can’t help but feel jealous. You at their beckoning call. Pulling you away from him. He wanted to keep you there on top of him… forever, but Bucky once again steals you from him. Loki finds his way to his bedroom, saddened by your sudden absence and filing his time with something else.

You and Sam rush in the Quinjet as the door starts to close. You sit down and stare at the floor, dreading the sight that is about to be in front of you, as Sam rushes to get some basic gear to cover you. He straps on a helmet and a bullet proof vest to you in a frantic manner, struggling to clasp the buckles. His hands are shaking, so you place yours on his, forcing him to look at you. You give him a look of comfort, yet control. His anxiety melts at the calm fear in your eyes, knowing you’re just as scared but determined.

After 1 agonizing hour, you land in some unknown desert country filled by tents and soldiers. Sam grabs your wrist and starts sprinting to a broken and abandoned building surrounded by American soldiers. Steve stands at the door waiting for you. Stress blows off of him as he sees Sam dragging you behind him. 

“Hurry, he’s barely holding on!” Steve yells.

The three of you enter the building and rush to the second floor where Natasha is leaning over Bucky, putting pressure on the wound. 

“Two bullets below the heart and one to the left. They barely missed, but he’s bleeding out like a bitch. There was also a large boulder on him so I’m sure there’s internal damage,” she informs.

You drop to your knees and lean over Bucky. He looks up to you, face full of pain and desperation. Even in his own demise, he gives you a smile and warm eyes. You shake your head at him, You’re not supposed to die you idiot, you thought. Taking Natasha’s hands, you force her to push on his bullet wound harder, implying she isn’t putting enough pressure on it. Steve and Sam stand behind you panicking, but informing the rest of the team through the intercom. 

“Yeah, she’s here… I’m not sure… let’s hope,” Steve mutters.

-

Earlier…

Bullets are flying through the air as Bucky attempts to run around. Their camp was attacked late last night when no one was prepared and the battle has been going on for hours. No one was sure where it came from at first, all that they did know is that they’re surrounded and out manned.

Steve and Bucky started running first, trying to get to the general and end things, but as buildings started to fall down, things got harder. Soldiers were getting trampled, crushed, hit. Rocks were flying everywhere within the rubble falling.

Bucky loses track of Steve, the two getting split up somewhere about ten minutes ago. Leaning against a large chunk of wall, Bucky sits and regains his breath. He looks over the wall seeing that no one is near him. After all of this fighting, Bucky prays they’ll be taken home finally, knowing the opposing enemy is almost out of tricks considering they did a surprise attack.

He can’t wait to get home. He can’t wait to feel you jump in his arms, lay on him as you read, lean your head on his shoulder when you can’t stay awake during a movie. Two weeks is too long to go without you after spending every day together for a while. He started getting antsy to see her three days ago. Knowing he can’t stay in his location forever, Bucky starts to get up and dash.

“Bucky, look up.” Steve says over the head set.

Bucky looks in front of him to see Steve hiding behind one of their trucks looking over by him.

“To the left, there are three soldiers, go the opposite direction and they won’t see you at all.”

Bucky nods to him and takes a deep breath. Turning to his right, Bucky stands and starts to sprint. Gunshots go off and completely drown out Steve yelling “to my left, not yours!”. He barely takes a step before feeling an awful pain in his shoulder. 

In slow motion, Bucky feels himself slip and get pushed down by an invisible force. Another burst of pain hits below the first one and one to his other shoulder. His vision goes blurry as he falls, his back slamming into little rocks and pebbles. Hitting his head on the ground, everything goes dark.

Steve watches as his best friend gets shot three times. Fear settles in as he sprints over to Bucky, but the enemy sees him running. Quickly, they shoot the corner of the building next to them, sending shards down around Bucky’ unconscious body. Steve stops and blocks his face from the oncoming rubble, panicking about losing Bucky in the dust.

“Everyone, Bucky’s down! I need back up!” The dust settles and Steve sprints to Bucky and looks down, “Wake up, Buck. Come on.”

Steve takes Bucky by his shoulders before realizing the bullet holes beneath his thumbs. He wildly lets go of Bucky as he stares at the open wound. Blood gushes out of Bucky as he lies in the sand. 

Next thing Steve knows, there are S.H.I.E.L.D agents surrounding him with their shields and Natasha is joining him on the ground. Natasha carefully picks up Bucky’s shoulders as Steve grabs his ankles. They attempt to drag him to the building when they notice opposing men in the main floor.

“Someone clear the building for us! We need to get him to safety!” Steve yells over the intercoms.

“I got you.”

Tony flies over in his suit, shooting down the men in the building and around the perimeters as Steve and Natasha drag Bucky inside. 

“We’ve got him secured, but we need someone quick before we lose him!”

“Steve, doesn’t Y/N have healing powers?” Tony inquires.

“Holy crap, yes. Sam! Get to the Quinjet fast, we need Y/N!” 

“Copy that.”

Sam sprints to the Quinjet with adrenaline bouncing through his veins. 

“I need someone to watch the building as we wait,” Steve orders, “Nat, put pressure on the wounds, I’m going out to defend for a moment.”

“Will do.”

Steve rushes out of the building to find the agents from earlier setting up a temporary barricade. Thor runs over out of breath and covers for them. Steve watches Sam running back, praying that he can get there in time with Y/N to help Bucky, but for now they have to keep fighting.

-

Steve watches as you stare at Bucky, praying that you know what you are doing. He can see the panic in your eyes as you look down at Bucky. He knows that fear. It’s doubt. It’s the same doubt he felt when he was first in charge of a mission. The tears start coming in your eyes as you look up to Steve.

“You’ve got this,” he comforts, “I know you do.”

You look over to Natasha and nod for her to let go of the wounds. She quickly pushes herself away as you take control. Putting pressure onto the wounds, you close your eyes and focus. You feel the powers surging through your body and pouring into Bucky.

Steve and Natasha stare at you in awe. Light emerges from your body, surrounding you and Bucky, but not blinding them. You look so graceful as you pour your heart and soul into him. The blood starts clotting as it comes out before it stops all together, but as it stops, they watch as the light from you slowly flickers. You start to wobble over his body, looking more tired as you go on.

“Is it working?” Sam asks.

“I think so, but somethings wrong.” Steve answers.

Steve rushes to your side, holding you up from the back as you start to fall over. You start to get light headed as you pour all of your energy into Bucky. Opening your eyes for one second, you see the wounds not closing up between your fingers. They’re too deep for you to comfortably heal. 

You take your hands off of Bucky for a second to lean back. Steve catches you as your arms barely keep your body up as Natasha rushes over back by Bucky, applying pressure again but not as much.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

You lift your hand to shake it, signaling you're fine before holding up your index to signal that you need one moment. Steve holds you tight, almost laying you across his lap. He looks over to Sam who’s staring at you. 

“It’s like she ran out of energy,” Steve comments.

“It might be too much for her. I think we have to pull back and go home.”

“Sam, you know how much I love Bucky, but we’re so close to finishing this.”

“I can contact Fury or Coulson and see if we can get sent back, the rest of the soldiers can stay here and fight until called.”

“Then do it.”

Sam furiously runs back to the Quinjet to get a better signal, hoping they’ll be able to take Bucky back home. Steve looks down at your tired body sprawled across him. You start to waken a little bit more, looking over to Bucky in determination.

“Wait, Y/N. Do you think it’s a good idea to-”

You ignore Steve as you push Natasha off of Bucky. You get up on your knees before taking Bucky again and emptying all your energy. The brightest light Steve and Nat have ever seen comes out of nowhere, shining from your body. 

People describe a terrifying event that their “soul had left their body”, but you literally feel every fiber in your body get drained. You lose breath, surrendering everything you have in you. Bucky starts to stir, coughing as he gains consciousness. Steve rushes to his side and holds his head up. Shielding his eyes, Steve sees your eyes go completely white, glowing as if the sun had entered you. Your face has gone blank as you black out, losing yourself in healing Bucky.

Nat runs to your side as the light disappears at once. You fall over as she catches you, trying to keep you from hitting your head on the ground. There’s silence in the building as Nat and Steve attempt to get both you and Bucky up before Sam stumbles in.

“We can go back! What happene-”

“No time to explain,” Steve interrupts, “Avengers, fall back. We’re heading home immediately.”

The Avengers sprint back to the Quinjet. Sam carries you as Steve carries the limping Bucky back, setting you both down on the floor. Clint and Wanda run inside as see you and Bucky swapped appearances. Wanda starts asking a million questions that Nat tries to answer as they take off.

“Steve,” Bucky coughs, “what’s going on?” “We’re heading back to the compound. You were injured severely and Y/N saved your life.”

“But I thought she was back at the-”

“Sam got her after you got shot. She did everything she could.”

Steve nods over in your direction. Bucky looks over to see you passed out on the ground, Natasha and Sam tending to you. He starts to panic at the sight of your paralyzed body lays next to him.

“Bucky, you have to hold still. Your wounds are still-”

“No, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Bucky, calm down!”

Bucky whips his head to look at Steve who’s frantically trying to keep him on the ground in a sederatary fashion. 

“I can’t Steve. Is she alive?”

“She’s fine. You need to worry about yourself. She’s tired.”

“You promise?”

Bucky searches for an answer in Steve's eyes, but he knows Steve can’t promise that. No one really knows if you’re okay. There’s a tense silence throughout the quinjet as it flies home.

Loki hears the engine of the quinjet as it lands. He rushes off the couch to stand at the tower’s bridge doors, watching it land. As the door opens, he hurriedly walks onto the bridge looking around each Avenger as they walk out to see you. Steve and Tony stop when they see the writings on Loki’s body, recognizing your handwriting from the notes on Bucky’s arms.

“What the-” Tony mutters.

“Where is she?” Loki asks worriedly.

Sam steps off the quinjet carrying your body bridal style. Loki rushes to him as the other Avengers stare at him in awe. Laying his hand on your forehead, Loki reads your brain to find you asleep. He forces you awake with his magic, having awakened in Sam’s arms. You look up to see Sam holding you and Loki next to you. Reaching out, Loki takes your limp body from Sam, carrying you to the med bay as the Avengers follow behind. Bucky watches as he leans on Steve’s shoulders, anger rising in his body from seeing Loki’s appearance and behavior towards you. Everyone glances at one another in disbelief of the sight in front of them.

You don’t remember falling asleep again, but you wake up in a bed in the med bay. Loki sits on a chair next to you asleep. By the looks of it, he hasn’t been able to sleep in a while. His hair is all distressed and there are bags forming under his eyes. You try to sit up before you feel a pounding headache start.

Loki wakes at the sound of you rustling around in the bed. He sees you gripping your forehead in pain.

“You’re awake. Careful, your body may still be weak,” he warns.

You smile at him for being so kind to you. Loki reaches for  a water bottle sitting on the stand beside your bed and a small container of pills. 

“Take these. I was told they would help.”

He hands you the little bottle of Advil and the water. You timidly take them from him and take one pill. Your hands are still shaking from how tired you are. Loki gives you a gentle smile, but you can see the sadness behind it. Your state of being concerns him, seeing how exhausted you are. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nod weakly with a smile, trying to comfort him, but you know until you have complete strength, nothing will make him feel better. The two of you sit silently for a moment before Loki gasps and pats down his pockets.

“I forgot… I have your pen.”

He hands you the ball point pen you use to write on him, which makes you smile. Why does he have this on him? You think.

“Just in case you need to tell me something you can’t sign.”

You look at him confused.

“I can read minds.”

All of the thoughts you’ve had about him run into his head. You freak out internally, wondering what all he had read.

“Don’t worry, I don’t read it often. In fact, this is the first time I’ve read your mind.”

He leans forward and sets his leg on your bed, pulling up on his pants to reveal his ankle.

Good.

Loki chuckles at you. He likes being able to talk to you, even if it’s through pen and skin. 

The Avengers sit outside your room, listening to Loki talk to you. They give each other quizzical looks as they hear Loki laugh.

“Do you think he’s torturing her?” Tony asks.

“Oh stop. Did you see the way he was covered in writing? They clearly bonded while we were done,” Nat points out.

“Oh they did more than bond.

Everyone looks at Sam, confused about his comment.

“When I came to get Y/N, I found her on top of Loki on the ground. She was laying on top of him and leaning over his face. It looked like they were about to make out or something.”

Bucky is fueled with rage at Sam’s description. Steve looks over to his friend to see Bucky’s hands in the tightest first he’s seen in a while. There is nothing but anger seeping through his eyes, jealous of the way Sam talks of the two. Bucky storms off towards the hallways before slamming his door closed. The team looks over to Steve worried, knowing Bucky has feelings for you.

Is Bucky okay?

“Yes, he is.” Loki’s heart drops. Even in your own pain and healing, you worry about Bucky. He forgot about your attachment to the solider due to his own growing feelings for you. “He’s alive and doing well, thanks to you. You’re a good person.”

It’s the right thing to do. I don’t like it when my friends die.

A little flutter of hope flickers in Loki’s mind when you refer to Busy as a friend. He knows that you have more of a relationship with Bucky than the others, but ‘friend’ gived him hope.

“Most people don’t like it when friends die, but I won’t lie dear, I’m surprised you consider him a friend.”

He knows what he’s doing by starting this conversation, but better to have his feelings squashed now then later when he’s ever more attached to you.

What do you mean?

“It just seems like you and him have a special bond.”

Like a dating bond?

“I suppose you could say that.”

No, we’re just friends. Besides, I like you.

Loki meets your eyes to see nothing but warmth and comfort. 

“I like you, too. You’re much more enjoyable than the others.”

-

The next day comes and you’ve gained more energy, enough to get out of bed. Feeling the cold floor on your feet for the first time sparks new joy and hope. You grab onto Loki’s arm, who hasn’t left the med bay since he brought you there. Slowly, the two of you shuffle out of the room and into the elevator. 

As the elevator opens us, the Avengers laying in the main room turn to see you weakly walking, clinging on to Loki as you move. He looks down at you with a proud smile across his face. Bucky watches from the kitchen with jealousy in his eyes. Steve gives him a warning look, not daring him to do anything. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve says sympathetically, “Are you feeling better?”

You nod with a smile which brings a smile to everyone’s face, except Bucky’s. When you spot him to your left, you notice the cold stoic face he gives you and the way he stares at Loki, his eyes burning holes at the writing on his fair skin.

“I’m taking her to my room so she can rest more,” Loki informs.

No one misses the way he says ‘my room’ and not ‘your room’ and they definitely don’t miss the way your hand slides from his biceps down his arm to tangle into his hand.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello! I don’t know if you’re still doing this prompt but how about the Oxygen Loss but with either Rung or Ratchet? I’m not sure how you would do Ratchet, maybe he’s away from the Med Bay at the time the LL is being attacked?

I've got some of my favorite bot Rung for you, and Ratchet is in part five listed below! Let's have some angst with the good phsychiatrist!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: You're Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rung

·Perhaps being human just made one think differently from Cybertronians in the most unusual of ways, but you truly never understood how anyone could forget the lovable phsychiatrist, though you have quite a few unique reasons to remember him. While he's actually rather sociable and energetic, the two of you most often enjoy relaxing together in his office. Today you're doing just that by chatting away about the various pieces of earth media you think he'll enjoy. Whether or not he actually ends up having interest in any of them, he takes great pleasure in discussing your suggestions. Not only does it give him a better glimpse into earth and the culture of its inhabitants, but it also allows him to hear about your own tastes in entertainment, and that alone could keep his interest for days. Just hearing you talk about yourself so happily is a delight.

·Unfortunately the fun times are interrupted by an emergency broadcast, one the two of you are equally baffled to find is little more than a garble of indecipherable warnings and instructions. Before any kind of explanation can be requested, the line goes off completely, fading out to silence that doesn't even register static. Having served on many ships in the past, Rung has theories straight away as to what could be going on, and they vary from trivial to concerning. For this though, he wants to err on the side of caution. That means getting somewhere safe. If something is indeed wrong, he explains, help can always be found in a number of key locations. Considering where his room is, he knows the closest safe place is the medical bay.

·Wanting to be wary but not panicked, Rung admittedly struggles over whether or not to get moving. Though he doesn't say why, you know one of his biggest fears is being unable to protect you, something he worries he can't do being adverse to combat. A small smile of encouragement naturally lights up your features as you lay a hand on his. You promise him you trust his judgement no matter what. A look of gratitude is knocked off his face when his whole office trembles, and it's replaced entirely with a look of terror as the ship gives a mighty buck, sending your tiny body flying. An athletic dive saves you from crashing into anything, and instead you find yourself held in a pair of trembling hands when the world levels out. On his knees and quite frazzled from the jolt, the first thing Rung does is ask if you're okay, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you confirm you are.

·The incident gives him the impetus to make up his mind; the two of you are going to head for more secure territory. In agreement despite being so frazzled, you let him take the lead and try to convey just how grateful you are to have him at your side for all of this, holding onto his digits as he prepares to get moving. There's so much obvious planning in the processor behind his furrowed brows you can practically hear the metaphorical wheels turning. He wants to be ready for any possibility, so much so that he grabs his rarely used combat staff from the corner. Despite the circumstances, your heart actually flutters a little; to you he's always looked quite dashing wielding the weapon.

·There's silence when he enters the hallway at last, and it drives him to hug you to his chest in a move that comforts himself just as much as he hopes it comforts you. It certainly helps you feel secure, as the move puts you right beside his spark, one that leaves no doubt as to its status as brightest on the ship. A soft and melodic humming seems to pass straight through his chestplate at all times. Pressing against him, you let the sound soothe the tension from your much smaller body. Even if you can hardly protect him from much of anything, you hope he feels a bit safer in your company, though he's hardly struggling to move boldly through the ship. From a distance one might have even missed the light tremble in his frame.

·Scared as he might be, he's faced situations similar to this before, and came out with the knowledge that it's best to move as he is now; quickly, but quietly, so as to avoid being taken by surprise. However, he had the aid of his natural resilience to get him through past situations alive. Incredible healing abilities have always been a literal life saver, but now, the fact that only he would be saved... The thought of recovery is just as agonizing as any wound when he thinks of you not being there when the physical pain faded. Fear of such an outcome makes him freeze when the first sound of movement meets his audials; there's something rather large nearby, and it isn't an Autobot. Nor is it a Decepticon, further inspection tells him when he listens intently, as he can hear how unnaturally it moves even from his makeshift hiding spot. It has to be one of the attacking forces.

·Rung looks down as you hold your breath, having heard the same sound and doing your best to make sure the alien doesn't find either of you. For an instant you're both left frozen and the air is tense enough to feel as if it's smothering you. Scouting the situation as best he can, the small mech takes note of the fact he only has one usable path to the medical bay from this position, as any other course would require a great deal of backtracking there simply isn't time for. The only viable way forward is this one, and as there's only a single enemy... Looking down at you one final time let's him make a decision. This has to be done, for your sake, and he quickly sets you down in an open yet depowered electrical hatch, one likely left this way by a bot abandoning it in the midst of some maintenance. Hopefully it will keep you safe...

·You know what he's doing when Rung whispers for you to stay down and make a run for it should things "end poorly", but you don't even get a chance to try and stop him, the fear in his optics all but breaking your heart as he disappears from view. Alone in the hatch, a million thoughts storm in an attempt to form a plan. Being so tiny leaves you very few options... Yet a forgotten tool, some kind of Cybertronian screwdriver, opens up a slew of dangerous possibilities. What you assume to be adrenaline fills you so fast you get dizzy, but you don't let that stop you as the makeshift weapon is clenched between your shaking hands. Unbeknownst to you, Rung executes his first attack at the same instant, finishing off an impressive ambush with a ferocious stab intended to end a fight before it can begin.

·Rung isn't surprised when his attack merely staggers his opponent; just dissapointed as the brute turns to retaliate. Bloodied weapon in hand, he simply doesn't have the reflexes to avoid the hit that comes next, though he does manage to land a small puncture wound as a powerful blow slams him against a wall. As he is pinned by the overwhelming weight of a much larger being, he can only think about you... The weapon is immobile in his hand, as useless as he knows he is, and he prays this commotion will at least enable you to escape. Pressure hard enough to crack his armor suspends any thoughts beyond pain as the alien goes in for the kill. Only, it's interrupted by a very unexpected attack at the base of one of its legs, one that staggers it as something tiny and very sharp is stabbed as deep as it can go... by you.

·There's no time to celebrate before a reflexive kick sends you sprawling, your tiny body rolling across the ground from a mere glancing blow. Between the window of opportunity and the glaring rage on your behalf, it's all Rung needs to turn the tide of battle. Though he's sloppy from anger and pain, his staff finds a weak point and the bladed end sinks deep, sending the gargantuan being toppling like a gigantic tree. Before the thud has finished echoing Rung is by your side, kneeling on a visibly damaged leg to look you over. Despite the strength of what hit you, there's something off in how bleary you are as his face spins above you, as if the world is slipping away. Your injured partner can see it too. In fact, anyone could see you're struggling just to breathe, and that sends a chill through his spark. Whether or not this level of incoherencey makes any sense for your manner of injury, he doesn't have time to ask questions, needing to get you somewhere safe instead. All he takes the time for is to plead that you remain awake.

·Before he can damage his leg further by attempting to struggle into a standing position, luck arrives in the form of a squadron of armed bots, who heard the sound of combat and came to investigate. The sight of the ship's tiny phsychiatrist and the hulking alien he obviously killed makes most of their jaws drop. In a rare loss of composure, Rung begs them to take you to the medical bay as fast as possible, tears hidden only by his lenses. Slipping out of consciousness while you're lifted by dexterous hands, you can only be glad he'll be okay, and that despite your tiny size you made a difference... A quick thinking bot heeds the instructions and carts you off for treatment. Rung can only pray help will be given in time, and as he's helped along after you the bitter sense of failure hurts worse than any injury; how could he be so worthless as to let you down in this of all moments?

·The feeling is not at all relieved when he arrives for care of his own and is told that you'll live, only because the true cause of your sudden deterioration strikes him hard. You were suffocating, tiny organic body failing from a lack of critical resources, and yet you'd been forced to save him. Did this mean he had hurt you more than anything else today, because he'd been unable to handle himself, making you waste precious oxygen and energy? As soon as he's patched up he requests to stay alone by your side, which is rather difficult due to how many bots want to praise his efforts in taking down an enemy. Their intentions are at least appreciated. Yet he's left to agonize as he waits for you to stir, removing his glasses so he can hold his head in his hands while the emotions overwhelm him.

·Upon waking, it's hard to ignore the fact that most of your body hurts in one way or another, particularly in a few stretches of your arms and legs where bruises will no doubt be blossoming soon. Yet the mask on your face is what really gives you pause, especially as you open your eyes to see the interior of a medical bay suite. A familiar dash of copper catches your attention before you can think too hard. Rung is just beside you, yet you can't tell if he's awake or powered down by the way his helm is leaning so heavily against his palm. The question is answered as soon as you stir, and his usually bright optics snap open to reveal an exhausted grey. Despite the visible anguish, he smiles as soon as he sees you, reaching forward to brush your cheek as he softly says your name. Static blurs his voice into an uncharacteristic croak.

·A tad bit accustomed to worried minds in confusing situations, he gently relays what led to you being here, trying to remain neutral but slipping in a bit of self admonishment as he gets to his failed defensive effort. The memories flood back despite the injuries you suffered and the lack of oxygen in the moment. A far different scene comes back in your mind's eye, one of a mech valiantly charging into a fight just to give you a chance at escape, and you take hold of his digit despite the pain of moving your arm. When he tries to stop the action you cut him off gently, saying that he's not just the reason you're alive, he was the source of your own burst of courage that resulted in you saving his life. Your love for each other is why you're both here to live another day.

·The devotion in your words takes him by total surprise. For all the adoration he has for you, he's not even accustomed to being remembered by anyone, let alone treasured. Honest as can be, he can only silently wipe away a few happy tears as he requests you forgive him for the self imposed criticism. Smiling back, you promise to do so, and to always help him remember that he's worth all the love you have for him. With tenderness only he could possess, Rung leans down to leave a soft kiss on the side of your head in silent thanks. There simply aren't words for the happiness you give him even in the hardest times...

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 11: I'm Sorry (Written Chapter)

word count: 3.1k

The Mixtape: Thinking of you | CA, 1979

The music that pooled out of Onigiri Miya was anything but what you expected.  A small smile crept up onto your face - despite your best efforts - and with a featherlight touch, you crept into the restaurant, silently thanking the soft jazz for drowning out the creaks as you pushed the door open in search of a certain chef.

Osamu stood at the sink, hands working some leftover dishes from the work day. He hummed softly along to the music, and it surprised you just how nice  he sounded - how his deep hum complemented the honey voice that dripped through the speakers; rich, thick, and soft like velvet. You padded into the kitchen, clutching the wine and apron closer to your frame so as not to bump it on anything that could give you away, and allowed yourself a few minutes to listen and appreciate before ultimately ruining the moment.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Miya.” You brought a hand up to suppress a giggle as he stiffened and dropped the plate he had been washing with a loud clatter. Osamu bowed his head and cleared his throat, loud enough to drown out the music for a brief moment before it ultimately pervaded the kitchen once more. He grabbed the nearest towel to dry his hands before reaching for the remote, the music ceasing with a quick click. Once he turned around, your eyes immediately fell on the dusted pink that settled onto his cheeks, and you did your best to ignore the warmth that ignited in your chest at the sight.

"So, Etta James, huh?" Osamu coughed awkwardly, turning his attention back toward the sink to finish up the last few dishes that lingered in the basin.

"Ya know Etta James?" An affirming hum left your lips as you placed the bottle of wine and your apron on the island, eyes flitting over the rustic kitchen in search of wine glasses.

The kitchen was a decent size, the bright wooden counters and cabinets a stark contrast to the dark iron of the appliances, but it complemented each other and suited the space well. The soft ivory paint on the walls kept the overall area from being too loud compared to the rest of the restaurant, and you wondered if Kita was behind the greenery that added a lush, vibrant addition to the otherwise plain shop. Your eyes landed on a modest pile of cookbooks stored neatly in the corner, and you let out a huff of victory as you made your way over to the wine glasses that sat in a windowed cabinet above them.

"My parents were big fans, they've always had a funny fascination with America," you explained, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod. The two of you relished in the, for once, comfortable beats of silence that followed, and you were surprised when he - for a second time since you had met him - decided to be the one break it.

"My Ma used to have this busted up, old, mix tape that she would play every night when she made dinner. Got it at a flea market when she spent a semester abroad in California. She always talked about how she wished she could visit again." The fondness in his voice made your heart squeeze. You busied yourself, listening intently as you placed two wine glasses onto the counter and filled them generously. "Eventually the cassette broke from years of abuse, but I managed to find the songs and make her a playlist. She still listens to it, every night, and I guess I got so used to it that it feels almost...wrong, to cook without hearin' it in the background, even though I'm not home anymore." You slid one glass over to him and he raised a brow at it, a soft smile pointed your way.

"I think ya skimped me a bit," he joked, and you chuckled sheepishly, a hand coming to scratch the back of your neck.

"What can I say, I like my wine." He chuckles as you reach for the small remote. 

"You didn't have to stop it, you know. I love me some Etta," you said, and his smile widened ever so slightly as you pressed play, the smooth voice fluttering through the speakers once more, softer this time as you adjusted the volume. You lifted the wine glass to your lips, taking a tentative first sip. The second the bittersweet liquid hit your tongue, you closed your eyes and sighed into the familiarity. It flashed you back to Tokyo; the seemingly endless nights on the balcony with Tendou and Semi, your drunken laughter rivaling the music in volume as Semi sang along with fervor - but, really, does anyone sound good when they're nearly a bottle deep?

Reality slammed into you like a meteor, and you were instantly struck back into the present moment, meeting Osamu's eyes as he watched you curiously. You felt the warmth crawl up your neck from the embarrassment, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that you could divert his attention to literally anything else.

"So,  are you gonna teach me how to properly make some Onigiri tonight?" His eyes fell on the apron you brought, the one he gifted to you, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his lips settled into a playful smirk.

"Who said anythin' about 'teach'? I said I'd show ya how I make it; I didn' say nothin' about teachin' ya."

"And miss out on learning how to make Onigiri Miya's signature dish? No way." Osamu scoffed as you grabbed your apron and began tying it around your waist. His arms folded in front of him, his lips a thin line. You couldn't tell if he was thinking or already disapproving.

"This was meant to be an apology, you know," he started, but you cut him off.

"I know! And what better apology than by helping me perfect my shaping?" The resigned sigh that followed meant a victory for you, the grin proof enough for both of you that you had won. "So, what are we making today?"

"I figured I'd keep it simple tonight. Ya like fatty tuna?" Of course you do.  Who doesn’t? "Great, let's get started then."

To be honest, you weren't expecting Osamu to be as patient with you as he was. Even though you were decently acquainted with the 'art form' that was Onigiri (as so eloquently and dramatically described by Osamu), you decided to entertain him and pretend to struggle with every step - over shredding the tuna, spilling the spices, adding too much mayo - in the minor hope that you could catch him stressed and maybe a bit frustrated - but to your somewhat disappointment, mostly pleasant surprise, every effort to get at least a furrowed brow or a groan was met with a warm smile, sometimes a breathy chuckle, and a strong pair of arms gently guiding you through the correct steps.

It was as equally frustrating as it was endearing.

"Now ya wanna dip yer hands into the dish of water I left on the side for ya, yeah, great, that's it - now grab a pinch of salt - not too much, just a pinch, and ya wanna rub it into yer hands to prep for the rice."

"What if I have a cut somewhere?"

"Do ya have a cut?"

"Well, not that I know of, but what if there's a cut I don't know about?"

"Well then I guess we'll find out soon, won' we?"

You huffed, but nonetheless pinched the tiny mountain of salt and collected a modest amount before tentatively rubbing it into your hands. Your shoulders were stiff the entire time, prepared for the sudden sting on the off chance the salt decided to acquaint itself with an unknown wound on your hand. You heard Osamu stifle a laugh, and your eyes met his as he smirked at your cautious form.

"Stop staring at me, focus on your own stupid rice ball." He laughed - loudly, beautifully - and you felt your hands tremble the slightest bit as you tried to put all of your focus on making a stupid, dumb triangle out of some stupid, dumb rice.

"Need some help?" You merely grumbled in response as the little bundle of rice and filling crumbled in your hands, despite your feeble attempts at shaping it. He set his own, perfectly shaped, onigiri aside and scooched over to you, his arms reaching around your form, chest pressed lightly against your back. "Yer pressing in too softly, so the rice isn't holding. Cup yer hands like this-" he cupped your hands within his own "-just like that. Now press a little firmer, like this." You were trying your best to pay attention to what he was showing you, you really were - but you couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hands were. You expected them to be rough; calloused from years of cooking, volleyball, and the handyman side hobby, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of lotion did he use to make them feel so smooth? Probably some fancy homemade Aloe Vera lotion Kita made for him, you thought with a scoff.

This new revelation had also made you hyper aware that your hands were not, in fact, soft - countless burns, cuts, and other various acts of carelessness in the kitchen have given your hands a battle worn texture that no amount of hoity toity, all natural Aloe Vera would be able to soften up. He must have been cringing inside just having to touch the absolute burlap that is your haggard looking, stupid hands, oh god-

"Nice job, yer doin' great." The gentleness in his voice plucked you from your inner turmoil, effectively grounding you back to the task at hand. What was once a crumbling mess of rice and tuna now stood a beautifully crafted onigiri, the plump triangle nestled snuggly in between your hands. A gasp left you as you beamed at the finished product, and you whipped your head toward him, twisting slightly within his grip so you could face him properly.

It was then that you realized just how close he was to you.

Whatever words you had planned to say to him died in your throat as your brain tried to comprehend why the hell his face was so close to yours. Osamu seemed to be in a similar state of shock, eyes wide and mouth emulating a fish, opening and shutting when the words weren't coming to him. From the way your own mouth gaped, you imagined you shared a similar expression.

Simultaneously, almost comically, you separated yourselves and severed eye contact, Osamu finding something above you particularly interesting. What exactly, you weren't sure - you were too busy eyeing every minute detail of the remarkably plain tile flooring.

Like an awkward embrace from an old friend you never truly vibed with, the uncomfortable silence settled between you two once again.

It would have almost felt nostalgic, if you didn't hate it with a seething passion.

'And my arms need someone, someone to enfold'

The playful jazz number cut through the silence, and you mentally cursed Etta for clearly not reading the room - your arms were certainly not looking to enfold anybody at the moment, and you imagined it was likely that Osamu felt the same.

You spun back around toward your work station, a quick roll of your shoulders the only indication that you were gonna keep working, because you sure as shit didn't trust whatever would have come out of your mouth had you chosen to open it. Lucky for you, he seemed to get the hint and moved back toward his own work station, making quick work of shaping what he had left, while you continued to struggle, albeit far less than before.

Not a word had been uttered in the moments that followed, the music filling the awkward rift that split between you.

To be honest, you felt guilty that nearly every interaction between you two inevitably dissolved into a dense, unbearable tension; the once lighthearted mood suddenly cracked open like a fault line, the quiet settling between you like dust, and it always felt so thick that trying to bring the moment back its old, enlightened state seemed to take such an immense amount of effort - effort that neither one of you appeared to want to put forth.

You wondered if Osamu shared a similar sentiment.

While you finished up the last of your onigiri, you allowed your attention to flicker to Osamu as he eyed the leftover tuna filling with seemingly great interest, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he scooped the mess onto his finger, putting obvious effort into keeping it balanced as he brought the teetering pile to his lips. Right as he went to close his lips around his finger, the tiny mountain fell, smearing onto his chin and landing on the counter with the saddest little ‘splat’ you'd ever heard. The disappointment he exuded at his misfortune is what ultimately broke you, and you laughed - a bright, gleeful sound that dispelled the suffocating air in an instant, and made you feel like you could finally breathe again (which was ironic, considering how out of breath you were from the incessant giggles that sprung free with absolutely no regard for your lung capacity).

Your hand flew to your mouth in an (admittedly failed) attempt to stifle yourself, as well as possibly save the last shred of rapidly waning dignity Osamu was probably holding onto for dear life. You folded in on yourself, laughter bouncing off the restaurant floor and - again, probably - stabbing directly into Osamu's crumbling pride.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Osamu's loud, beautiful laugh cut through your own, and at the sight of his uncharacteristically bright smile, accompanied with the little smear of mayo on his chin, you realized that, maybe, probably, he was actually doing just fine; and that this - laughing with him - was something you'd never been given the chance to do before, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you wished you could do more often.

You hoped that, maybe, Osamu wanted that, too.

"So, I take it they didn't teach you how to make onigiri at your fancy schmancy culinary school?" He smiled as you bit back a groan. It was embarrassing, how ugly your onigiri looked next to his. Sure, you were joking about your incompetence in the beginning in the hopes to rile him up a little; but when it came to actually forming the balls, well - there's a reason the spite onigiri you made were small and round.

"You win this time, rice man." He boldly plucked one of your creations and plopped it onto his plate, while you opted for one of his. You knew yours were gonna have too much mayo and way too much seasoning, and you weren't about to subject yourself to that.

You took a bite out of the rice ball and audibly moaned - how is something so simple so delicious? He chuckled, lazy smile draped across his features as he watched you eat. The little sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and you felt a tiny tug on your heart at how excited he was that you were enjoying his food, even if he wasn't being outwardly showy about it like you tended to be.

"'This time'? Does that mean we're doing this again?" You reached for another one of his as you hummed to yourself.

"Hmm, maybe. Maybe I'll force you to bake me some macarons." You were kidding, of course - you wouldn't wish that upon even your worst enemies - but the way his eyes brightened and he agreed with a small but noticeable lilt to his voice had you wondering if maybe making macarons wouldn't be all that bad if you made them with him.

He bit into your onigiri, taking a far more generous bite than you would have, and you snickered at the obvious attempt to conceal the grimace he had involuntarily made upon swallowing. The way he tiptoed around his critique of your failure was incredibly endearing ("It's not bad, just...mayo-y." "You don't have to eat it, you know." "No no, you worked hard, I'm gonna eat it."), and you felt the first little crack form in the walls you had begun to keep up around him ever since the curry incident.

The longer you enjoyed the food, wine, and - surprisingly - company, the harder it became to ignore the guilt that had settled onto your heart earlier in the evening. What started off as a mere twinge had become a sizeable weight in your chest, growing each moment you spent with him that didn't make you want to launch him off the summit of Mount Fuji.

"I'm sorry," you said, quiet and out of the blue. He shot you a confused smile.

"Pretty sure that's my job right now," he pointed out, and you offered a meek chuckle in response.

"I shouldn't have sold the dessert onigiri. Seeing just how passionate you are makes me realize the gravity of what I did. My ego was a little bruised and instead of being an adult about it, I openly insulted you and Kita by making a mockery of your business. I took it too far, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm sure it goes without saying, but I'm gonna stop making them so you don't have to worry anymore." He was quiet, staring at you in a way he hadn't before, and it made you feel far too exposed, playing with the rice crumbled on your plate as you waited for a reaction.

"I'm sorry, too. I only said those things because the idea of you expanding yer menu terrified me. Yer an amazin' chef, and I honestly think ya could run me out of business one day." His voice was soft, too; and you felt the crack grow considerably wider, your vulnerability peeking through pinched brows and hands that you couldn't seem to keep still. "I've always wanted to open up a location in Tokyo, and expand the menu. Onigiri made sense because it's always been a source of comfort, but as much as I love makin' em, there're others things I wanna make, too."

The air between you was...light. The weight that usually settled itself into your shoulder blades seemed to have dissipated, and you couldn't tell if it was the wine, the time, or Osamu. Maybe it was all three.

"I...I like it better when we don't hate each other," you said.

"I never hated you," he said.

"I never hated you either," you admitted.

"Does that mean we can stop pretending we do?" He looked you, and you saw hope.

You smiled.

"Yeah," you said. "We can."

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun facts -

Osamu listening to old 60′s love songs just did something to me ok, especially my girl Etta

Kita is 100% responsible for the plants 

Osamu’s mom kept the tape, even after it finally broke beyond repair. It reminds her of Osamu’s father, who she met that summer in Cali

he was another exchange student from Japan. They had a summer fling and inevitably said their goodbyes when the summer was over and he had to fly back home.

They ended up bumping into each other a year after she moved back - and fate has been a big theme for the Miya’s ever since. 

Osamu has always felt a little funny about it - it feels too convenient, and he doesn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own path.

He thought your ugly rice balls were disgusting, obviously, and he was sure to eat his own after the first one lmao

A/n - when you haven’t updated in so long you have to look at past chapters to remember how you formatted 😭. BUT ITS FINALLY DONEEEE, this chapter KICKED my ass oh my god but it feels so good to be finished and we’re finally moving into new territory~ I’m very excited for the next few chapters!! I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter, please don’t be afraid to shoot me messages if you have questions!! I have a LOT of behind the scenes content that doesn’t make it into the fic sometimes and I’m always eager to share 🤩✨💛

Taglist (bolded cannot be tagged!)-

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude​ @doctorspencereid​ @keiarma​ @cherriechurros​ @halesandy​ @k3nma-fairy​ @jewlmin​ @tabipleats​ @kaleidoscopekai​ @confusedturtle​ @vintagexparker​ @hoeevern @syaziahvg​ @hallothankmas​ @lilith412426​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @oikawakuns​ @reina-de-tay​ @prettyinblack231​ @snowyseungs​ @darlingkuroo​ @chloji​ @1sillylittlething​ 

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Elf-On-The-Shelf Trouble

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Castiel, Jack (all platonic)

Warnings: None.

Summary: Something unnatural enters the bunker - unnatural and Christmas-y.

A/n: Happy Holidays, my loves!

It had been a quieter week for hunting almost as if the monsters had taken the holidays seriously. This gave you and the boys time to yourselves to properly enjoy the time off. It was two days before Christmas and you wanted to take advantage of the spirit.

Sam had taken Jack into town for a grocery run in which you had requested a few extra ingredients to create a nice holiday feast while Dean and Castiel were in the library clearing up the spare decorations.

In the kitchen, you pushed your sleeves up and began to strategise how you were going to tackle the challenge. You stooped down and opened up the cabinet to retrieve your cookbook. Well, it started as ‘your’ cookbook but overtime, Sam and Dean added to it until it was just a mashup of the Kitchen’s Greatest Hits. 

You gathered the ingredients for gingerbread and eggnog only stopping briefly when Dean walked in, dusting his hands of ornament glitter.

“The library is clean as a whistle and Cas is heading out for more of your tinsel crap.” He approached the bench with the bottle of rum. You turned around to pick up a spoon and smiled at the jab.

“Calm down, Scrooge. It’s festive.” You replied and then sighed. “All we’re missing is a star for the top.”

“We could just stick Cas on there instead.”

The thought of Castiel perched at the top of the tree with his trench coat made you laugh which infected Dean until you were both in stitches.

The pair of you had just started folding base ingredients together when Sam and Jack announced their arrival, finding their fellow hunters in the kitchen. They carried in the grocery bags and set them on the table, Sam starting to unpack while Jack approached you with a grin.

“Hey.” You greeted. He was curiously happy and it made you smile.

“I met a nice old lady in town today and she gave me something that I think you’ll like.” Jack told you while you caught the small bottle of nutmeg powder that Sam had tossed over.

Unscrewing the bottle, you tilted your head. “I do love surprises.”

As the words flew out of your mouth, in your face, was a doll dressed in a white-collared red stocking, blue eyes staring to the side, a smile completed by its rosy cheeks.

You almost jumped back when you saw it. In a world of demons, ghouls, wraiths - no real monster creeped you out more than the elf on the shelf and Jack had brought one home as a gift for you.

“Oh...!” You didn’t really know what to say so you gave a small nervous laugh, taking the doll in your hands. “Jack, this is so... sweet...”

The nephilim beamed. He had never given a gift before and Sam was right - it filled him up with so much happiness.

“You like it?” He asked and you replicated the smile.

“Of course, I do. Hey, why don’t you set this little guy down, go upstairs and get changed and come back to help me with these cookies?” You suggested quickly.

Jack cast his eyes down at the bench stop filled with various ingredients and was overtaken with excitement to learn how to make gingerbread. “Okay.”

He set the elf to sit upright on the kitchen table before disappearing to change into more comfortable clothes. You waved the young boy off and then cast a beady look at the toy, not noticing Sam’s smirk.

“Wow. For someone who enjoys the holiday spirit, you really hate the Elf-On-The-Shelf.” He chuckled and you shook your head, eyes still fixated on the small object.

“He looks like he knows something.” You said suspiciously. “And why is he always smiling?”

Sam chuckled and then mentioned wanting to go for a walk. You m nodded and let him leave just as Jack returned with a bright grin and rolled up sleeves. “How can I help?”

You had a plan laid out for him but it turned on its head when Dean ‘donated’ his bowl of dough to the nephilim, “You can start with that.” He said and grabbed a towel, wiping his fingers of any excess. “I’m going to set the table.”

You thanked him for the help and watched the man leave as well.

Now left with Jack, you taught the boy everything you knew about gingerbread. As the day was pleasantly quiet on the hunting front, you both spent the majority of the time baking and getting the occasional helping hand from one of the brothers or Jack. Castiel had appeared briefly to help but he confused salt with sugar and received a temporary ban.

When night came around, gingerbread was successfully baked and you were exhausted. Thankfully, there were no hunting drama about hormonal teenagers summoning the Krampus which meant that you could finally rest.

After bidding everyone a goodnight, and warning Dean of the repercussions if he tried to steal a cookie early, you climbed into your bed and were swept away in a peaceful dreamless sleep.

He-he-he...

A giggle came from right beside your ear. You swat out of instinct and sat up in a daze. The room was dark and you thought your mind was playing tricks but then you made out a small movement across the floor - it looked... red?

Now on high alert, you grabbed your gun from beneath your pillow and jumped out of the covers. You walked silently across the room and flicked on the lights, pointing your gun at an empty floor.

Weird.

Then you heard the giggle from the hallway and you spun around to wrench the door open only to find nothing. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a sigh until you heard quick receding footsteps and a shout.

“Sammy!”

You bolted for Room 11, almost at the door, when you skid to a halt. Standing just outside Dean’s room was the elf doll that Jack had brought home - it was holding a kitchen knife.

Hell. No.

You raised your gun and fired into the dolls chest sending the scent of burnt cotton into the air. Instead of dropping to the ground, the doll turned to you and vanished in a wisp of smoke.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t over. You felt a weight on your shoulder and Dean emerged from his room just in time to see the elf raise its blade. The older Winchester pulled out his own gun and took a shot, effectively disarming the elf as the weapon clanged on the floor.

You jumped and reached back to pull it off - but it wouldn’t budge. This was like dropping into a nightmare. And just when it seemed like it couldn’t get worse, you felt a bite at your neck.

“Get it off!” You screamed, flailing around the corridor as panic actually set in.

Suddenly, a grey sweatshirt came into view. “Okay, okay - hold on!” Sam instructed. You could tell he was trying to help but when he yanked at the doll, the pain in your neck increased and you struggled against the tall man.

Sam huffed, a little frustrated with how much you were moving which made his task more difficult.

“Damn it, Y/n - hold still for Sam.” Dean told you tensely.

And you stopped moving - you stopped only to give the blonde-haired man a scathing glare and a piece of your mind.

“Don’t make me shoot you - ow!”

“Sorry!” Sam apologised. “I need an angel blade.”

Dean whipped around to fetch the one from his room when he saw Jack jogging over after being woken up from the commotion.

“Kid, angel blade - now!”

The nephilim’s eyes glowed and, instantly, Sam’s hand wielded the angelic weapon. The man was hoping to cut the thing off but one touch of the silver and the elf unlatched itself, springing back.

You gasped in relief, leaning against the wall as you clutched your neck, noticing a few spots of blood. Dean and Jack rushed over to your side hurtling questions to ask if you were okay.

“Do you feel any odd... sensations?”

You rolled your eyes at Dean. “I was bitten by a Christmas demon - not a radioactive spider.”

Dean made a quick comment about how you could never be too sure but was interrupted when when Sam called out for the three of you.

“Guys?”

Looking over at where he stood, you noticed that his eyes were fixed on the elf who had gotten to its feet and was walking in the direction of the fallen knife.

Dean pointed at the doll, “We should run.”

Without a second thought, the four of you bolted through the hallway into the furthest room you could find - a high pitched giggle nipping at your heels.

“In here!” Sam ushered everyone into a storage facility. Once the lock was clicked, you all let out a collective sigh.

You pressed your hand against the wound and found that the blood had mostly dried up. “What the hell was that?”

“A seriously pissed elf.” Dean said instantly. “Scared the crap out of me when it blew my door open.”

You blinked at him as something awful dawned on you. “It blew your door open?”

“That’s what I said. There were three knocks and then bam!”

You turned towards the door of the room and quietly walked closer. You pressed your ear against the dark wood and waited.

“Why didn’t it go inside?” Jack wondered and the Winchester shrugged, not sure how to answer.

Then his eyes widened.

“I spilled holy oil on the floor when I knocked the bottle over.”

Knock, knock...

Knock.

Dean was at your side instantly helping you brace the door as it rattled, the elf trying to gain access. Jack paced nervously and Sam pulled out his phone as he attempted to do some quick research in the chaos.

You glanced up at the hinges and saw them loosen slowly. “Cursed object?” You guessed.

Sam gnawed at his lip as he thought, “Maybe but it hasn’t done anything curse-y.”

“It bit me!” You snapped.

Dean pushed harder while frowning at your argument. “Y/n, you didn’t let any of us eat your cookies - I’d bite you.”

“It’s not a cursed object...” Sam realised as he scrolled through his phone quickly. Dean slammed his shoulder against the door with a grunt and a shot a scowl in his brothers direction.

“Did you see that thing with the knife? It’s cursed!”

“No - Dean, I think it’s been possessed by the - well, the literal Spirit of Christmas.”

You frowned at the man and tilted your head. “Are you saying Santa bit me?”

Sam looked up from his device at your admission and exhaled at the foolish answer, not surprised that you had given it. He then looked over at Jack, the young boy had been the one to bring the elf into the bunker with innocent intentions.

“Jack, when the woman gave you the elf, did you walk under any evergreen?”

With furrowed brows, Jack thought hard as he recalled his steps that morning in the small town.

“I had just picked up the pie and left the store when the sweet old lady gifted it to me. Then I crossed the street to meet with you at the car.”

It sounded simple enough until you remembered a small detail from when you ventured the same road several weeks ago. “The lampposts have fresh evergreen leaves hanging between them. You would have crossed beneath it to get to Sam.”

“That’s probably what set the spirit off.” Sam nodded while you helped his brother brace the door. “Okay - there’s an ancient fable here that says ‘without a sacrifice, the spirit comes down, until presented with a stem of green from the town’ - a stem of green?”

“Like a branch from the tree we have downstairs?” You asked, feet almost sliding out from under you as the spirit slammed against the only thing keeping it out.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed at the tiny toy. “You just had to convince us to celebrate the holidays!”

There was a scowl on your face the moment his tone hit your ears. Turning to the man, you slapped his shoulder.

“How do we know that this isn’t because of your ‘grinchy’ behaviour? Honestly, I’d set a psycho-Christmas spirit on your ass too.”

“Believe me Y/n I haven’t started being-“

“Guys?” Sam’s call drew your attention and that’s when you and Dean realised that it had gone quiet. Leaning forward you pressed an ear to the door and listened to what seemed like little footsteps running off.

The spirit appeared to have moved on to another part of the bunker and you weren’t sure if that was comforting or more alarming. You and Dean stepped away from the door with a small sigh of relief.

Now, you needed a plan to kill the spirit and quick.

All heads worked together to form a rough sketch of how to tackle the issue before unlocking the door and creeping out of the room. With minimal noise, you all managed to get to a hallway opening that allowed you see a top view of the crows nest and a part of the library where the tree was - and the damn elf.

It was sitting there on the edge of the table with its rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and uncomfortable smile.

Oh, how you hated that thing.

There was a nudge to your right, pulling you from your thoughts and you saw that Dean and Sam had disappeared to lay their plan in motion which left you with the nephilim. Nodding at the boy, you stayed quiet before retracing your steps and headed down the hall towards Dean’s room. Thankfully, it was only two corridor turns away.

Turning the handle, you quickly entered and spotted the weapon that was needed hanging on the wall above his desk. You grabbed it, knocking a few pens over in the process, and bolted out. As you neared Jack, you heard a commotion downstairs which could only be Dean and Sam attempting to distract the spirit and you sped up.

Sliding to a stop, Jack presented you with the sharp-edge of a branch that he managed to snap off while the elf was occupied. You took it from his hand and stealthily moved down the stairs, staying out of sight. You reached the tree and loaded the branch into the crossbow as you heard a body fly against the wall, hitting the opposing bookshelf, and a seperate grunt that landed on the floor by the foot of the tree.

Taking in a deep breath - it was now or never.

You whipped around the side of the tree, spotted the little red holiday-demon pinning Dean to the floor and fired the evergreen. The branch sank itself into the elf’s soft body and flung it away from the Winchester who gasped for air. Sam got to his feet, rolling out his aching shoulder and walked over to where the Christmas entity laid still.

You, Dean and Jack did the same, still a little jumpy in case the thing attacked.

“Is it over?” Jack asked curiously.

Suddenly, the spirit shook the walls for a few seconds before combusting into a tall white cloud that dropped small snowflakes.

Talk about dramatic.

“Yeah - it’s over.” Sam sighed.

The door to the bunker screeched open, reminding you to oil the hinges later, and Castiel walked in with eyes fixed on the boxes in his hands. He didn’t notice the messed state of the bunker until he approached the four of you in the library, disheveled and breathless.

“What happened in here?” He frowned, blue eyes darting about for the danger. Jack smiled at his fatherly-figure. “We were attacked by a holiday spirit but it’s just a pile of snow now.”

Castiel was thoroughly confused at how this chaos transpired and opened his mouth when you caught his inquiry.

“It’s a long story.” You said quickly and diverted the attention to the item in his hands. “What’s that?”

The angel would get himself the details a little bit later and entertained your question. He moved forward and set the first box on the table before opening the second and a beautiful gold light sprang forth. Reaching in, Castiel gingerly picked up the contents and revealed a small glowing ball.

“I believe you said that you wanted a star on the top.”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing and Dean playfully bumped into your shoulder.

“Happy holidays, Y/n.”

Looking to your side, you saw Sam and Dean smiling back at you - they knew.

There weren’t enough words to describe what it was you were feeling in that moment but it was strong. Forget the trees and presents, Team Free Will 2.0 was your forever gift.

Castiel handed the glowing star to the nephilim and stepped back beside you, Dean and Sam - the four of you watching as Jack reached up to placed it on the top where it hovered silently, emitting its warm light.

It was perfect.

“That reminds me... I found this on my way back.” Castiel moved over and picked up the second box and presenting it to everyone in the room. In his hands, and sitting neatly inside, was a little santa-hat wearing elf with his smile.

“I believe that you put them on the shelf.”

You swallowed nervously and glanced over at the brothers and Jack.

Sam caught your look and nodded.

“Yeah - I’ll get the holy oil.”

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