#sitting on the steps of the field smoking and watching the people go by when it was over

[ashwhowrites]

eddie munson x cheerleader/popular reader, where the reader keeps asking eddie out on a date but he keeps rejecting them because why would a popular person want to be with him. Anyways, maybe something happened that made him realize that he believes them and would like to go out with them.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Asking me out?

Y/N recently grew a crush on Eddie, the town's freak. She never saw something in him before, but all it took was one moment for it to change.

It was a Friday night and she was freezing her ass off on the field. But a big fake smile plastered on her face as she did the cheers. She let her eyes wander as the game played, and then she saw Eddie. He stood off to the side smoking a cigarette, she was surprised he wasn't asked to leave. He had one hand in his pocket and his hair was covered with a black beanie. He must have felt her stare because he looked in her direction.

She froze as she couldn't look away, his eyes kept her in a daze. His eyes warmed up her body and she felt her face burn when he winked.

That was all it took, that night she dreamed about it and woke up with the biggest crush she's ever had.

When Monday rolled around she had a skip in her step. She wanted to ask Eddie out, she knew she'd sound crazy with it coming out of nowhere but who cares.

She found him at lunch and walked over to his table. A big smile on her face as she stood in front of him. He was so cute that it made her want to giggle for years. She was shocked that the girls didn't see how attractive he was.

"Can I talk to you?"

His table went silent

Eddie looked at her confused

"Me?" he asked, pointing to himself, her eyes never left him so it was clear who she meant. But he had no idea why.

She grabbed his hand and lifted him from the chair, he looked over at his friends as she pulled him into the hallway. She dropped his hand and turned around to face him

"I'm Y/N," she said as she smiled

"I know," he said, "I mean! I'm Eddie," he stuttered

"I know," she said with a small wink. Eddie wasn't sure if his heart racing was a good or bad thing.

"I saw you at the football game on Friday, and this might sound very forward, but I think you are insanely attractive and I'd love to go out on a date with you, maybe tonight?"

Eddie felt the need to clean his ears because there was no way Y/N, the prettiest cheerleader, asked him out. He stared at her like she had multiple heads, and he had a feeling it coming out of nowhere was a trap. He would love to say "hell yes" but he was tired of being burned by people.

"I can't tonight, I have to babysit," he lied

"That's okay, how about tomorrow?" she asked

"I babysit all week and the weekend. You know, parents have kids but never want to take care of them," he nervously laughed

Y/N felt blown off and had a bad feeling he was lying. She was disappointed but she shrugged it off.

"Have fun, Eddie. Maybe another time," she spoke quietly, far less enthusiastic than before. And that made Eddie feel like shit.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, watching as her shoulders slumped as she walked back into the cafeteria.

~~~

In case he was telling the truth and had to babysit, she tried again for that "another time."

"Hey Eddie, do you want to get a bite to eat after the game?"

"I have to be home right away, I'm sorry"

And then she tried another time, and another, and another. He always seemed to be busy. But she really liked him and she wanted to try one last time.

Eddie was sitting against the school's building as he waited for Wayne to pick him up, his van decided to not start and left him stranded.

Y/N walked over, standing at his feet.

Eddie looked up as a shadow covered him. There she was, beautiful as ever. She made Eddie nervous and he didn't like to be nervous.

"What are you sitting out here for?" she asked, Eddie could feel his stomach flutter when she smiled.

"Van died so waiting for my ride," he shrugged

"I can give you a ride, and as a thank you for it maybe we could get ice cream?" she offered, more shy each time since she knew he'd say no.

"He's already on his way so you don't have to worry about me," he said as he stood up

"What about just ice cream then? I can pick you up." She kept trying and he kept shutting her down

"I'll probably be in the shop with my van, but once it's fixed I should have some free time, I'll find you."

~~~

Eddie arrived in his van a few days later, and he never talked to her. It hurt to admit, but he was never going to say yes and she had to move on.

He found her eyes and quickly looked away, when he looked again she was gone.

A few days passed and she stopped walking up to him. Sometimes they'd make eye contact, and she'd smile and then look away. Anytime she walked in his direction he held his breath, letting it free when she walked passed him.

He missed talking to her, even if it was always two sentences. He liked having her attention but he was scared of what would come after if he said yes. Would a bucket of water be dumped on him? Was it a bet? Would he find himself shoved in a closet and beaten up?

It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

~~

Eddie was walking to his campaign when he walked passed the gym and heard his name.

He peeked inside to see Y/N and Chrissy stretching. Eddie was a simple guy so he had to take his time looking at Y/N as she sat in her uniform.

"Are you going to try again?" Chrissy asked, her hand stretched out to her feet

"No," Y/N sighed

"What? But you really like him!" Chrissy gasped

"Chris, it's clear he doesn't like me. I can count the amount of times he said no on two hands. I'm done embarrassing myself. It's a crush, I'll get over it," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, but you haven't liked a guy in a long time! Are you sure you want to give up?"

"I know you are trying to be a good friend, but you won't change my mind. If he liked me, he would make time work in his apparently busy schedule. I'm probably not his type and that's okay." Y/N explained, mostly trying to make herself feel better.

"You're right, but his loss because I know a ton of single guys who have been asking about you!" Chrissy gushed

Eddie was leaning so far that the door opened and he fell right through. He cussed as he landed on his stomach. The fall caught the girl's attention and he blushed in embarrassment.

"Eddie? Oh my are you okay?" Y/N asked, rushing over

Chrissy was behind her, a look of worry on her face

"I'm good," he said through clenched teeth. He moved to his knees and felt soft hands helping him stand up. Once he was on his feet he wanted to run.

"Were you pushed?" Y/N asked, worried he might have been getting picked on.

Eddie couldn't tell which was less embarrassing

"Uh no, I was eavesdropping, and well karma," he said as he brushed his dirty hands against his jeans. Chrissy nodded and backed away, giving them privacy to talk.

"Oh! So you heard all of that, huh?" Y/N asked, groaning in embarrassment

"Yeah and look I'm sorry I kept rejecting you. I wasn't sure if you were serious or not and I was a little scared," Eddie said

"Scared of what? and why would I be lying?" she asked

"You're popular and I've never had a popular girl take interest in me that wasn't for some type of joke. I figured you were asking me out as a joke or to set me up for something. And I'm sorry for assuming, I didn't know you genuinely like me."

"I can understand that. I hope you know that I'd never do something cruel to anyone. I'm not like that," she explained

"And I believe you. I know I kinda had a million shots to go out with you and I fucked them all up. But can I make it up to you?" he asked, hope in his eyes as she smiled

"Are you asking me out, Eddie?" she teased

"I am," he said as he smiled, "What do you say?"

"I think I'm busy for the whole year, sorry," she said, Eddie stood shocked as she turned around and walked away.

He felt his body slump at the rejection, but he guessed he deserved it. He turned around and headed out of the gym.

He made it down the hall when he heard his name being called, he turned around.

"That's for saying no. But I'd love to go out with you," she said as she walked towards him

"I did deserve that," he laughed but walked towards her, "tonight after practice, we can grab that bite to eat?"

"I'll see you then," she said with a smile. She leaned in and pecked his cheek softly.

Eddie blushed as her lips touched his skin

He watched as she walked back to practice, head in the clouds.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[blingblong55]

My Love, Mine all mine -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Based on a request:

"Broken men know who to love, but not how to love. Broken women know how to love, but not who to love." This is so Simon related 🥺🥺

---- F!Reader, fluff ----

A/N: Because he isn't always some tough masked solider, he is a man with wounds and a life beyond the battle field

It wasn't a shared feeling, he knew that well. You and he had stayed up and talked about a future like you had a clue. He knew your issues, love isn't what you want at times, you miss it, want it, but sometimes just at times, you can't give in to it, in fear of something greater that you don't know about. The smoke of his cigarette gave his not-so-secret hiding spot away. "Better not ask for my jumper again, doll," he knew you were there, knew those steps all too well. You chuckle, "You have to be some superhero," you sit beside him. He shrugs, "Just a mere mortal," he smiles. Silence between you two, speaking the words lips fail to say.

Simon knew you he was meant to love you, but not ever meant to show it. And just as he was about to speak, you rested your head on his shoulder. Classic way to ask for his jumper because you once again forgot your own. "No, not this time, I'm sick today," he excuses. "What if I get sick?" you ask and he chuckles. "You can never get sick darling, remember New Year's Day last year?" 

It was cold, wind and snow surrounded you and he walked to you. The night died down rather quickly, lovers kissing inside as you walked in the snow. Thirteen years of knowing the other, he knew you too well, you want to avoid the romance, avoid the cliche and have something different, but not all can be unique. You know well, he knows too, you turn around, "Go back inside, Si, you'll get sick." He shakes his head. "What, you're telling me you won't take care of me, love?" He gets closer to you, a little pout as he gives you his puppy eyes. "Don't do that, Simon." He smirks. "Doing what, all I'm saying is, why not let me be here with you and just shit-talk all those people who might invite us to their baby showers?" You laugh. "I'm wearing blue," you comment he rolls his eyes. "No way you'll make me wear pink," he shakes his head. You ignore it, knowing a baby shower would come within nine to ten months from your friends. 

He knows you. He just doesn't know if he can ever love you. In this world, a man like him isn't guaranteed a happy ending. Maybe a cut to the throat, death in a dark place, bullets blazing as his body takes its last breaths, that is a guaranteed end. Nothing in this world belongs to him, not even the knife he carries. "I almost got sick," you recall. "Keyword is almost," he looks at the skyline. "So, what is new?" he looks over to you. "Same old story." It was mad, to know he can be the man who loves you unconditionally. You could stab him in the back a million times and a million times he would thank you for doing it. Love works in different ways, his love is dark and deep but real. You could break his heart, expose him to the world, turn him into his enemy, kill him over and over, and each time, he would say he loves you.

It's a dark and twisted fairy tale to love him, but it's love that no one can take from him. He can tell you he loves you over and over, but you would still ask him if it was true. You can kiss him, care for him, hug him in days or nights when he is the most vulnerable, burn the world and watch it fall apart for him, only to have him think it's all foolery. One hug, one kiss, and he would still question what love is. The meaning displayed in your eyes, the feeling displayed in his gaze but neither are too brilliant to take a step and claim what the poets oh so need to see. You are conflicted, getting your heart broken over and over by many lovers, asking and crying to the starry nights what is so wrong with you.

Do you love too much, do you care too much? What if it's you and not them? What then? Simon, the cold stare to the passers and the soft gaze to you. R/N, the confused lover with issues and questions that one man's lips hold the answers to. One New Year's Day, one whisper of a truthful 'I love you,' two hearts, one bed, tears and promises. What makes love is not what others perceive it as. Not for a soldier, not for a civilian who questions all her love. At dinner with friends, questions were asked of when either would settle down like the others did, not knowing the answer was right at that table. Simon and R/N, are two complicated hearts that beat for one reason. To live. But those two words can be more than just a basic meaning.

One stormy night, knock on the door and he opens, shirtless and with hope. "Hi," your hoarse voice is too soft. He opens his arms and you run to them. Antidote, what a soldier like him found in that night when he promised he would be more than just a soldier but a man who loves a woman. A woman who cries in his arms as she gets heartbroken again. Boyfriends, thinking they are better than a true woman who all she wants to do is love and care. Something a soldier like him looks for in the dark. "They don't know what they lost, dear," he kisses the top of your head as he holds you close to him. He is done trying to find reasons to not love you.

You are tired of not finding enough excuses to call him home. Your home. His home. An embrace of a man who all he wants to do is protect the last thing on this earth to love him. It was a shared feeling, you both know that well. It is believed that since the creation of our universe, our galaxy, the dust that made us, always tries to find a way back to its other half. And, as he holds you close, two hearts, under one roof, he finds home, and you find home too. It's not about what piece is broken but what is still there. It's not about love or who or how to love.

Sometimes, love is not just a kiss, sex and a caress. Love is sometimes about waking up late morning, hair all messy, bodies tangled with the sheets and a burst of lazy laughter as you realise your lipstick is all over his face. Love is respect, honesty, trust, happiness, fun, and him, holding you near as he watches you cry over something small. Love is about being imperfect, flawed, broken and having the one you care for sit down, love you a little extra that day and watch as you fix yourself with his hand holding yours. 

Tags:

@ghostslillady @queen-ilmaree @jnsmeyv @madamemelancholysstuff @kit-kats06 @ghostslittlegf @trulyunknownone @rogerfxckingtaylor @cripitique @sinners-sins

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God (Part 3)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: Elain questions Azriels whereabouts. While Rhys places a target on your back after you seek the help of two other Death Gods.

Or

Azriel touches what does not belong to him and craves more.

word count: 5.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, attempted SA, angst, hurt/comfort, light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I had the tickle to write smut so I give you crumbs…for now. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

*quote from the chaos of stars

~~

Khaos was to be one of the many shooting stars that showered the Night Court skies. The Night Court would be celebrating Starfall, their yearly event to star gaze as spirits made their migration. Had she made her destination they would recognize her as one of their own and welcome her with open arms. Except for the first time the Night Court had in possession four instruments of conquest. The harp, mask, crown, and the horn, commonly known as the Dread Trove; Therefore diverting her journey to The Autumn Court.

~~~~~~~~

Bryaxis roared as he agreed to fight in the war. The reason for the blast; a form of communication, letting you know his end of the bargain was done. A bargain made with the High Lady cementing his plans- your plans. He requested a window below the library to see the sun and stars and most importantly lightning, conjured by you of course. Gods did he enjoy the spectacle, your wrath illuminating the dark sky striking fear and anxiety in peoples bones. The thrill of watching their faces as they waited for that crack of thunder. The sadist in him couldn't wait to be unleashed and bear witness to your fury, cracking of bones and screams in terror. The sweet scent of blood splattered throughout the field. He was giddy with excitement.

Azriel had rushed to the house of wind only to find the inner circle gathered in the sitting area. “Az! I’m so glad you're safe. Feyre and I figured out why the house was so moody.” Elain bounced over to her lover, wrapping her arms around Azriels neck, bringing his mouth to hers in an endearing kiss, running her tongue along the seam of his lips. Azriels arms remained at his sides, as she embraced him. His brows furrowed when she attempted to deepen the kiss.

He had just held you in his arms moments ago, your frame tucked closely within the shelter of his wings. Just the two of you and no one else existed at that moment. Not the flying of splintered bark or decayed leaves from the blast, or the dust, heavy with smoke and mist. He just saw you. Felt the power in your veins, saw the moon and all its stars in your eyes, the ruler of the skies and ruler of his mind.

He already missed the way the stars danced in your eyes as you looked up at him. He wanted to see his shadows dance along glittered starlight, not dirt covered flower beds and baked goods.

Azriel didn’t allow Elain to deepen the kiss, instead he broke apart from her eager mouth and gently pulled her arms from around his neck. “Elain I think we sho–”

“You smell different,” Elain interrupted, sniffing around Azriels chest and neck trying to find the source. “Just stepped on an orange on my way here,” he replied, rubbing the back of his tense neck. Her eyes narrowed, not trusting a single word out of his mouth.

Azriel met Nestas cold glare, a slight shake to her head followed. He was being put on the spot in front of his whole family. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead, wiping his clammy hands along his thighs, he started towards the stairs, “I’m gonna go shower.”

“I’ll join you!” Elain exclaimed, reaching for Azriels hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He silently begged for someone to stop her. To pull her away from what he knew she wanted, what he’s been giving her for the past six months. For anyone to suddenly need her so he could enjoy the scent of your body a little longer. So he could aggressively fist his cock and imagine he was fucking your throat instead.

Slowly Azriel climbed the steps, each step creaked as the wood carried their weight closer to their bedroom. He’d have to imagine it was you instead of her. Your mouth pressed against his lips as he swallowed your moans, hands trailing down your stomach till he reached your wet cunt. Your perfect body pressed against the shower wall as he sheathed himself inside you, taking you over and over and over–

“Azriel? Did you hear me?” It was Cassian that broke his thoughts.

“Sorry, zoned out for a bit. What did you say?”

“Rhys wants to debrief you.” Cassian jerked his head to Rhys' office.

“Now?” Elain whined, “can’t it wait for morning? It’s late.”

“No, he’s right Elain. Better now that it's fresh in my mind.” Azriel didn’t know if he should thank Cassian, the mother or the Gods for sparing him. Elain began to speak again but it was Azriel who seemed to read her thoughts, “don’t wait up,” he finished; releasing her hand that she so tightly held.

Not sparing her a second glance, Azriel followed Cassian to Rhys office, his shoulders more relaxed than before and his shadows seemed to have calmed down. Throwing his arm around Azriels shoulders in brotherly love, Cassian leaned in close and whispered, “you fucken owe me asshole. Now tell me all about her.”

Azriel tried to play it off with a smirk, but a wide smile danced on his lips. He’d get to stroke his cock to the thought of you after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel didn’t sleep in the room he shared with Elain, her once alluring scent now seemed too sweet. Her hands were suddenly too rough from pruning rose thorns and the leftover dirt beneath her nails made him sick.

He knew he needed to find the time to break things off. Cassian had told him that much. It wasn’t fair to lay next to Elain while he dreamed of you. Although Azriel didn’t divulge too much to Cassian about his fantasies, which wasn't the case when it came to Elain.

With Elain he had told Cass every dirty detail, how many times, positions and even sounds. He knows it was wrong. Didn’t think much of it before, as it was spoken between brothers and no one else. It would be different with you though. You were different. He was going to do it tonight. Tonight he would break things off with Elain and devote his efforts in getting to know you.

~~~~~~~

There were strong wards surrounding the Prison in the Night Court, used to prevent anyone from winnowing inside or flying to the entrance. The power needed to pass through the wards was more than you expected. It wasn't till you reached the stone gate that you realized that only the High Lord of the Night Court's blood would open the gate, something that you couldn't manipulate or conjure. You pinched the space between your brows in irritation as you thought of a way to bypass the blood sacrifice. Starting small in order to regain your power you attempted to push at the stone gate, hoping that it would just topple over. It didn't. Since the prison was on a cavernous mountain perhaps a little quake would loosen the rock and stone exposing the entrance for you to just strut right in.

You knelt in front of the stone gate, both knees firmly planted in soil and moss. You closed your eyes to focus on your magic. The sea breeze caressed your wind-chapped cheeks as you listened to the roar and crash of waves when they met the edge of the mountain. You summoned the power of the land through your fingers, plunging them deep into the soil in front of you. With a roar that echoed the strong ocean waves the mountain trembled in fear. The more your arms quivered in pain the deeper your fingers dug into the ground. Every inch rooted into the land caused the mountain rock to shrivel and rumble till small cracks webbed along the stone gate.

Azriel and Cassian were in the middle of breakfast when the floor beneath them swayed side to side, followed by a rolling motion. Dishes broke into pieces as they crashed to the floor, glass and sharp porcelain scattered the ground. Rhys urgently summoned them mind to mind.

There's a breach at the prison, get over here now before she releases them all.

Azriel and Cassian shared a look before they scrambled into their leathers and sheathed their most effective weapons, knives, daggers and swords, preparing for the worst.

Small cracks etched along the stone wall but it wasn't enough to open the gate. With your power almost completely drained you called upon the light. Seconds from opening your eyes to wield a crack of lightning a cool tendril wrapped around your wrist, carrying the smooth echo of ‘Please don’t do this’ in the whisper of Azriels voice.

The soothing touch jolted you. Your eyes shot wide open long enough to see the sky illuminate in a bright flash. A loud roaring sound boomed through the air as a violent strike of lightning slammed into the stone gate, crumbling it to pieces.

When you looked down to your trembling hands submerged in the rich soil, black tendrils seeped from the ground, wrapping up your arms and cooling your hot skin. “I think you like playing with fire don’t you?” Dusting the dirt from your hands you caressed the little shadow and quickly made your way inside the prison, looking at the sky one last time just in case you couldn't make it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello Bone Carver.” You smiled at your old friend, “Remember that favor you owe me?”

The Bone Carver just rolled his dark eyes. “Whatever you're going to ask me, the answer is yes.”

You beamed, “thank you.”

It had been easier getting out of the mountain than getting in, a flaw in the protection wards you’d fix before you left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel trekked up the mountain you were long gone. Upon entering the prison Azriel was easily able to follow your scent which led him to the Bone Carvers cell. Rhys entered and excused the other two males.

“You sure you know what you're getting yourself into brother?” Cassian questioned, glancing at Azriel with his eyebrow raised. Azriels brows creased as he tilted his head, not understanding what he meant. “She almost leveled a fucking mountain. I love you brother, but I don't think you can handle her,” Cassian smirked, “but I know I can.”

Azriel snorted. They had shared females in the past accidentally and sometimes in the same room. “She’s different Cass. Touch her and I’ll cut off your hands.”

“Don’t need my hands to fuck her Az.” Cassian threw his head back and howled in laughter as Azriel punched his shoulder in jest.

Rhys walked out of the cell and stared at Azriel as if he knew something Azriel didn’t. His violet eyes bore into hazel ones with a look of sympathy, knowing what lay ahead for Azriel.

“What did he say?” Azriel nervously asked.

Rhys didn’t answer as he turned his back away from him, starting his walk back down the mountain. Cassian and Azriel shared a glance, a look of worry in both their eyes.

Back in Velaris, Rhys paced back and forth, his knuckles white from clenching them into fists. The violet of his eyes black with rage.

“She knows about Velaris and can easily bypass the protection wards. Now she knows how to get in and out of the prison. Find her before I do because I'll fucking kill her.” Rhys' tone was low and deadly like a viper ready to strike.

Without another word Azriel set out to find you, again. But this time he was determined to get answers. No more riddles, no distractions. There was a pattern he picked up on. You seemed to befriend the deadlier creatures of Prythian, The Suriel, Bryaxis somehow, and now The Bone Carver. Azriel set his sights on the middle of Prythian where the weaver Stryga was confined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work out of your home Court was almost complete, the allies that you needed were aware of their duties and were loyal to your mission. Your limbs ached and burned from your travels across multiple courts, the only thing bringing you a sense of peace was this last stop. Possibly the worst, not the person you had to visit but the stench alone turned your stomach.

The severed head in the sac you carried grew heavier and heavier as your final destination grew closer. Crimson stained your clothes leaving them stiff and rough against your delicate skin. Your hair has clumped from the dirt and blood, it’d been days since you had a nice bath. You open and close your mouth as the sour taste of decayed flesh hits your taste buds. Food wasn't easily available but the horrid smell had you doubling over, emptying what was left from your stomach. Sweat now beads down the side of your face. Heavy eyes spot the weavers cottage in the distance. Finally you think.

“Stryga!” You shout, as you rap at the wooden door, “open up!”

Strygas feet shuffle to the door, “must you shout? I’m blind not deaf you insubordinate buffoon,” she scolds as she swings the door open.

Thankfully she doesn't see the way your face falls as you hold in your gag. “I missed you too Stryga.” She beckons you inside, her arm extended towards her cluttered home. “I don't mean to be rude, but I’m in a hurry. It’s not far from now Stryga. You’ll still be able to eat your fill of evil males,” you declare, handing her your sac with the severed head. “I’m going to kill him, both of them. Don’t you worry. Your neck still remains attached to your spine. But I’ll need some help and I’d love nothing more if you fought by my side.”

Stryga lowers her head and you witness her undying loyalty as she motions to kneel before you. “That's unnecessary,” you attempt at grabbing her arm, stopping her bow.

“It would be a pleasure to unleash my wrath for you Khaos, Goddess of creation and decreation,” Stryga pledges as she remains within your grasp. “So, not a buffoon then?” you stifle a laugh at her earlier jab, and for the first time in your presence Stryga smiles.

“No one calls me that anymore.” You remind her, a wave of sadness crossing your eyes as you remember your mission and how far you are from home.

“Buffoon? Or khaos?” She smirks as you throw her a faux glare.

Stryga suddenly stiffened, her ear catching a faint whisper as she tilted her head. Her clawed fingernails digging into the worn wood of the door.

“Stryga?” You whispered, peering behind you at the dozens of trees that seemed unmoving.

“Shadows follow you.” She brings her forefinger to her lips, shushing you, “non threatening it seems,” her brows furrow, "they're captivated.” Her soulless eyes widen as they seem to meet your gaze. “The shadows have stolen from you.”

You don’t have time for her to elaborate. Quickly making you exit and excusing yourself, she shocks you with her parting words. “Do you know what it takes to make a star shine?”

You shake your head as if she can see you. “Darkness,” she replies. “I knew that,” you answer as you take steps away from her cottage, eager to leave before the shadows master finds you. “Then why do you run?” She retorts, crossing her arms as she braces against the frame of her door, a smug expression on her deadly face.

You don't spare her another glance but her words linger long after you've left her cottage. With your work away from home finally done you winnow to your home court, disappearing in a cloud of glitter and smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You inhaled the crisp air, holding it in your lungs for three seconds before exhaling. Calming your racing heart and releasing the power that traveled through your veins. You smile briefly as the pressure of water against your body washes away days of dirt and blood. Finally letting your limbs relax, stretching your arms high above your head, reaching for the blue sky wanting nothing but to hold the warmth of the sun. In the peaceful silence of the forest you give yourself a moment of weakness. You allow the ache that's burrowed deep within your heart to break free from its prison. Your body’s screaming for a day a week or even a few hours of rest, where shifting isn't needed, and glamouring your true form doesn’t eat up most of your power. Where wars dont need to be fought and kings don’t need to die. You let your strength rest; to feel your pain shatter the windows to your soul for just a moment.

~~~~~

Azriel followed the sound of hushed whimpers, his shadows jumping from tree to tree. The soft cries soon turned harrowing then muffled, like a palm over the mouth.

‘Broken’

His shadow informed him.

Taking cover in the darkness below a large tree he heard the faint weeping, the sudden scent of citrus invading his nostrils. Your shoulders shook with the force of your cries as you cleaned off your wings. Azriel tried to look away from your bare back as you bathed beneath the mouth of a waterfall. Immediately he noticed your wings, two forewings and two hindwings that tapered towards the end like those of a luna moth.

You can shapeshift, he realizes, the large expanse of your wings covering your behind from view, leaving Azriel curious. But why were you crying? You didn't seem broken like his shadows had mentioned. That's when he saw it. Blood. You were cleaning off blood from your wings. Someone you had just killed he imagines. No, It was your blood. At the base of your wing closest to your back a large slash cut deep, almost severing your wing.

“You’re hurt, I can help you.” His voice rang out over the rushing water, slowly inching forward so as to not seem threatening. Frightened by his sudden appearance you vanish before his eyes, leaving a cloud of shimmering powder, momentarily blinding him. Weaving through the darkness of the in-between, you swiftly emerge, tackling Azriel to the ground, unsheathing his own dagger in the process.

Clothed in nothing but a thin nightgown, you straddle him, truth teller firm in your grip pushing against the column of his throat. His shadows swirled above your head creating a crown of darkness as if you were their queen. Azriel narrowed his eyes, ‘traitors.’

“Why have you looked for me?

Azriels speechless as he beholds your beauty, ignoring your question. His eyes wander over each of your features as if committing to memory. His hazel eyes land on your pouty lips and his throat bobs as his desire consumes him. Instinctually his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, just in case.

“Why have you looked for me?” You repeat, forcing his dagger against his jugular, a bead of blood painting his tan skin. Azriel smirked, the thrill of a dangerous female only exciting him, causing the scent of his arousal to fill the air. “You plan to kill me with my own blade?”

“I could kill you without it.” You counter, the force of your power sizzling through your fingers.

Azriels eyes flutter closed, the scent of his arousal drifting to your nose, a husky scent with a touch of night. “So the rumors are true,” Azriels brows furrow, “the shadowsinger playing hero to a damsel in distress, bedding any female that bats her eyes.”

Azriel then twists his foot around your ankle, using his weight to roll you over onto your back. You drag the blade across his throat as he tumbles you to the ground. His hand firmly grips your throat while the other wraps around your wrist, pinning you to the forest floor. With his knees firm on the ground, caging your hips, your legs resting on top of his thighs, making it easy for you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Who told you that?” He asks angrily, blood dripping down his throat from the shallow slash you gave him.

“Eris Vanssera '' you gasp, the slight pressure of his fingers around your throat arousing you more than it should. Yet the grip he holds on your wrists sends you in a panic as memories from your morning assault come crashing.

The males rancid breath makes your stomach churn as he licks at your cheek. The whole weight of his grotesque body has you pinned down, barely able to wriggle out from under him. With one hand he holds your wrists down above your head as the other fumbles with his belt.

Mid-flight he had collided into you, both barreling out of the sky crashing to the ground. Furious, he had attempted to sever your rare wings. The impact of your fall momentarily ceasing your powers, causing you to fight hand to hand.

Your crying only eggs him on, excitement in his rotten attempt at a smile. You're not sobbing out of fear. No. You mourn the life you have to take. You mourn every life, weather deserved or not. The spark that creates life remains. Rooted deep within you, pushed to the side in order for darkness to prevail.

Loyal to your duties as a Death God by any means necessary, you sucked in the secretions from your lungs and violently spat. Thick mucus covered the fat bastard's face, briefly losing his grip, giving you just enough time to unsheath your knife and drive into his thick skull. Later, you’d gift his remains to a dear friend.

Azriels eyes widened with shock as he felt a sharp pain shooting through him. Grunting and hissing he clutches his side, finding Truth teller lodged deep into his rib, warm blood dribbles from the wound staining the ground he's crouched at. “ Did you just stab me?” he chokes out, wincing as he pulls the dagger free, fingers splayed wide attempting to stop the bleeding.

Scrambling out from under him, chest heaving as the adrenaline flows through you. “You’ll live,” you pant as you stand, dusting off browned leaves from your back and knees. A sigh escapes your lips as you notice a blood stain on your white night dress. All you wanted was to wash up the violence that painted your skin and even then your efforts were futile. Azriels eyes trail up your body as he remains kneeled still putting pressure on his rib, his magic working to heal the open wound.

Anger courses through him as he zeros in on a purple bruise on your inner thigh, visible from how short your dress is. “Tell me who he is and I’ll kill him for you.” Those simple words had meant so much you almost cried at the gesture. While you slaughtered the bravest of males and brought warriors to their knees, destroyed kingdoms for unworthy kings, defended the defenseless not one person had offered to protect you. Countless times you had braved your own storm with not one soul willing to weather the chaos. Despite being used for your endless power, time and time again you still gave more than what you could ever receive in return. You save everyone but who was there to save you? You were one female and strong enough to fight your own battles and conquer without the help of highlords or kings. So why was this male cracking the shield of vulnerability wrapped so tightly around your heart?

Azriel seemed to notice your internal struggle, “come here,” he rasped as he stared through your troubled gaze. The tousled waves of his hair that fell so effortlessly over his forehead looked so enticing your fingers twitched. His hazel eyes had darkened and the way his thick thighs looked kneeling gripped you so fiercely your legs moved on their own volition. Standing on weak knees, his eyes never left yours as he patted his thigh, urging you to place your foot on his strong muscle. You obey his command with a slow nod. Azriel chances a glance at your exposed leg, “who do I have to kill?” He asks, softer this time. His bloodied fingers wrap around your delicate ankle and for once you don’t mind. Strong hands gently smooth over your leg, wrapping to the back of your calf. A shiver runs through you at the simple touch, his attentiveness relaxing your muscles. Slowly he lifts the hem of your gown, just enough to expose the bruise and nothing else. “Tell me whose entire family line should I butcher for touching you?” he murmured against your skin, circling your tender bruise with his perfect nose. “I killed him,” you breathe looking down at this male whose lips are inches away from your throbbing core.

“Mmmm good girl,” he growls, meeting your hooded gaze as he licks your inner thigh followed by a tender kiss. You nearly buckle at the sensation of his lips against your skin. The way his rough hands are caressing up and down the expanse of your leg. Lustful eyes roll back as he deeply inhales the sweet scent of your arousal, smothering his handsome face against the heated flesh of your leg like a house pet greeting their owner. “Let me worship you,” he purrs, his hot breath ghosting over your covered core as the tips of his fingers kiss the space between your legs. Azriel could cum right now just watching you throw your head back as you gasp from his fingers grazing your pulsing core. His pants are pulled tight from his cock pushing against his leathers, wanting to bury himself inside you. He’s willing to wait as long as you need but right now he’ll take whatever you give him.

When your eyes meet Azriels again you don’t miss the burning desire in his beautiful eyes or the outline of his bulge as it strains against his pants, suddenly it becomes too much too soon and before you know it you’ve shoved him away, the yearn clouding your vision clears and your back to being a powerful Death God.

“Is that what you tell the females you lay with? That you’ll worship their bodies like the Goddess they are?”

Azriel hangs his head between his dropped shoulders. Shame of his past finally catching up to him when it matters the most. When what he wants more than anything is threatened by his past mistakes. What was he thinking? Oh Gods and Elain. He was offering to please and bed you while he still hadn’t broken things off with Elain.

“You never answered my question. Why have you looked for me?”

Azriel remains silent.

“Did I offer a service which benefited you or your court?”

“Not exactly.” He answers

“Do you seek to use my power for your gain?” You continue, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“No”

“Do you seek treasure?”

“No” He replies with a scoff.

“You seek power then?”

Azriel shakes his head, “no, not power.”

“Knowledge?”

“Nope.”

“You do not pursue power, nor do you wish to bathe in coins, and knowledge is neither here nor there, so you must be searching for love?”

Azriel stilled.

“Ah, love it is. I regret to inform you, I cannot make someone love you.”

“That's not it. You healed me as a child. You were a stranger that showed me more kindness than my own family, and I've spent my entire life looking for you. Not to ask for more healing or to share your magic with others who may need you, but to offer my gratitude. All these years I’ve wondered what you’ve made of yourself, if you're happy, successful, have you found love or have you married or.. ” his gaze shies away, “or if you’re mated.” His tone is sincere, like he's been practicing those words for centuries.

You narrow your eyes at him, gauging whether he's telling you the truth or not, though you sense no lies. “What’s your name shadowsinger?”

“Azriel.”

“Azriel, I'm sorry but the person you're looking for doesn't exist anymore, but I’m even more sorry that I don’t recall this interaction.”

You watch as his expression sombers.

“I’m very flattered though,” you give him a tight lipped smile and get closer, deciding to sit next to him on the stone flat rock that rims the pool you were bathing in. Hoping to offer the same sincerity, you gently place your palm on his lap. “I suppose I can answer your questions, I feel it's the least I can do since you’ve indeed stalked me all these years.” Azriel chuckles remembering the night he said he wasn't a stalker. “I’m not happy, or successful where coin is involved. I have found love in all the faces I’ve seen and the wonderful friends I’ve made, but I’ve only loved one male.” while heat flushes your cheeks and a smile escapes your lips, Azriel frowns, unprepared for the hurt your answer would cause. “His name is Lucien, but –”

Azriel doesn't hear a word you say after that, the weight of your confession pinning him where he sits. Thank Gods for that because he's sure he’d topple over if he were standing. His mind imagines what Lucien had done for you to love him. What words did he use to make you sigh, what cheesy jokes he told to hear you laugh.

Does Lucien know that your skin feels like the finest silk known to man. Has he had the pleasure of kissing you and taking you to bed?

Azriel can feel his anger bubbling or jealousy he's not quite sure but he's unable to stop the hateful words from spewing out, “Lucien can’t love you, he has a mate! And she's pretty and sweet, she's sunshine and rainbows. She's gentle and soft.–”

“And everything I’m not.”

You finish as you swallow the tight knot in the back of your throat. You turn away from him, wiping at a stray tear that's rolled down your cheek. The truth in his words hurting you more than they should; since you’ve moved on. Lucien has too at least that's what you've heard.

Moving on doesn't cure the sadness or put together the broken pieces of your shattered heart. Forgetting Lucien doesn't erase the years of longing. You could never blame him for leaving you. Out of left field he grew distant, a silent struggle you knew nothing of. And you haven't seen him since.

Azriel places his scarred hand on your shoulder, an apology on the tip of his tongue as well as clarification for his words. He doesn’t get the chance as his touch burns your skin causing you to jolt and shrug him off. Azriel panics as he notices your red rimmed eyes, wet with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t..what I meant was-”

“No. You're right. How can someone like him love something like me?”

Azriel shakes his head. You thought of Lucien like the sun, brilliant and warm, setting fires to forest floors and warming the coldest of hearts. And you the moon, who only glows with the help of the sun. You had it all wrong. Lucien was just a sly fox sneaking his way into the heart of the moon. How could someone like him love something like you? The real question was how could he not love you?

Females like you were born during a raging storm under the phenomenon of an eclipse. With lightning in your veins, thunder in your heart and chaos in your bones.

He shouldn't feel hope in your sorrow but he’s glad Lucien didn’t choose you. Azriel would choose you; In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, he’d find you and he’d choose you.*

If he had the chance he’d rewind the clock and say what he actually meant. If not for a chance at forever then to ease your heavy heart. The words he spoke out of jealousy would hold a different meaning had he spoken them out of love.

‘Lucien can't love you the way I want to love you. He has a mate! So you were not made for him, but perhaps you were made for me. She’s pretty and sweet, sunshine and rainbows. But you balance strength and femininity like no one else. You're stunning, and selfless, you glow like the moon and shine brighter than the stars. She's gentle and soft but she can never compare to you. Not then, not now, not ever. No one has compared to you.’

But those words remain unspoken as he watches your figure retreat into the orange glow of the forest. Your beautiful wounded wings gracing the ground with your presence, leaving behind a trail of starlight. It was then he realized you didn't need to be saved, you needed to be found.

~~~~~~~~

You could cry tears of happiness as you near your humble cottage. Weaving through the tallest of trees and jumping over a running brook with flat rocks covered in moss. A sigh leaves your lips as you take in the place you call home. The wood creaks a familiar sound as you bounce up the worn steps.

Before your hand reaches the bronze knob, the door swings open and warmth envelopes you in a crushing hug. Your melodious laugh echoes in the air as strong arms spin you round and round. Your eyes meet those of amber as he finally lets your feet touch the floor. “I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, as a warm palm cradles your face, gently tracing circles on the apples of your cheek. He wraps his arm around your waist bringing your body flush with his. His heat offers a comfort not found with anyone else. And you allow yourself to melt into him as he softly brings his lips to yours.

His tender kiss turns desperate when you run your fingers through his auburn hair, lighting a fire that only the wetness between your legs can extinguish. The night runs long as this male beds you over and over and the only name that slips past your lips like a prayer is, “Eris. Eris. Eris.”

Part 4

A/n: The Vanserra brothers have entered the chat. 😏 what do you think happened between Lucien and Reader? any guesses?

taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit @dr4g0ngirl @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3

[askthewhiterocket]

Continued from here...

"Kicked around is putting it nicely," Kyo said with a chuckle. "My hands were bruised up pretty badly once they pulled me off him."

Kyo listened intently as Nat opened up a bit about his feelings in the lead up to the tournament, the precautions they'd take and how it had all been for not. "Feelings are complicated. Sometimes we behave in ways that feel uncharacteristic of ourselves. I have. There will always be people in our lives that will draw out the worst in us, the part of us we don't want other people to see. And there's no good solution to how to handle those situations. You just have to figure it out, I suppose." She shrugged. "Of course, I haven't, so what would I know."

Kyo looked over at Nat's shoulder and offered him a reassuring smile. She thought it over for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't mind. It... might be nice to share actually. Meowstic's the only other person close to me who knows."

Kyo folded her hands together and sat in silence, pondering how best to start the story. "His name was Luke Rifa. We grew up next door to each other in Driftveil, did everything together as kids. I have so many fond memories of staying up late watching princess movies together, talking about what we were going to do in the future," Kyo said, a smile spreading across her face. She gazed at the stars above them as she continued, "Got into even more trouble as teens. Smoked behind the cold storage, stole stuff from the markets, tried to convince one of the locals to give us tattoos. Typical dumb teenager stuff."

Kyo nodded her head in Meg's direction, Meowstic sitting on her shoulder. "Meowstic was actually his Pokemon, originally. We caught her together just outside Driftveil and decided to take turns caring for her. She was registered to his trainer ID though. It was his Pokeball that caught her. And, in all candor, I think she liked him better than me."

"I actually think Luke might've been my first crush, in retrospect. Though, that was long before either of us had words for what we were. And years later when we did, we both had a good laugh about how obvious the signs were. He became my most reliable wing man with the ladies and I helped him pick a name, something that felt really him."

Kyo lowered her gaze to her folded hands and took a shaky breath. "Luke's parents didn't... take it well. When they found out about my sexuality, they blamed me, saying I'd put these ideas into his head. They forbade us from seeing each other, though that didn't stop us." Kyo tightened her grip on her own hands, her knuckles turning white. "It didn't help that Luke's parents had always been hard on him. His father in particular was very tough on him, constantly pushing Luke to go into a field he considered "proper" like nursing. He was always setting Luke up on blind dates in hopes he could get Luke married to someone wealthy."

Kyo fell silent as her expression darkened. She took in another shaky breath and released her hands to take off her glasses. "Things... escalated after that. Initially, Luke's parents let him continue to live with him, but then abruptly one day they kicked him out and completely disowned him. Since my step father is good friends with Gym Leader Clay, we were able to get him into an apartment and a job at the gym. I thought everything would be fine but... in retrospect, Luke never was quite the same after that."

Tears began to trickle down Kyo's face as the walls crumpled down around her heart. She quickly tried to wipe them away with the base of her palm only to have more immediately replace them. After a moment, she gave up, simply looking at Nat. "I was the one who found him," she said quietly. "The Pokemon Center contacted me that morning saying a pokeball had been left there for me to collect. It was Meowstic, now registered under my trainer ID. I rushed to his apartment but I... I was too late."

Kyo shuddered as she drew in another deep breath. "The authorities brought in his parents as part of the usual procedure. And his father..." Kyo set her jaw, a growl rising out of her throat. "His father had the audacity to say 'Good riddance.'" Kyo balled her hands into fists, gritting her teeth as the deep seated anger rose to the surface again. "I snapped. I attacked him, right there in the police department. Knocked out a few teeth and hit him into the floor so hard he got a concussion before they got me off him. Had to go to court over that and almost lost Meowstic in the process, but they agreed to settle with community service." She shook her head. "I got lucky. Someone else without my step dad and sister's connections would've faced a far worse sentence."

Kyo rubbed a few more of the tears away from her face. "I know you're not him. But for a moment there, in Sinnoh, when that dragon hit you, I found myself back in that police department all over again, and all I could see was red." She let out a sad laugh. "And once again I got lucky that your connections were there to save me from myself."

Kyo reached over and gently placed her hand on Nat's shoulder. "Nathaniel, I know we've had our differences. Between everything you have going on here and all the shit I've got in Kanto, we're both busy as can be. But whatever it is, I will always support you. If nothing else you're welcome to come camp out under the stars in Kanto with me and Meg anytime. She'll talk your ear off with stories about the constellations well into the night."

Kyo wiped her face again with her free hand and smiled a bit. "By the Tao, that pitorro and coquito sounds really good right about now actually."

@asktheisle

[forgedroyalseal]

His Worst Nightmare

Chapter Ten (the finale 🥳)

“Today was a good day.” Will’s eyes don’t leave the fire as he speaks, and neither do Horace’s.

“It was a long one, that’s for sure.” Everyone else had long since either gone home, fallen asleep in the other bedroom, Halt, or had passed out on the floor where Jenny had left him with a pillow and a blanket, Gilan. Will and Horace had snuck out to the yard, where Horace built a small fire for them to sit by. Its flickering flames painted both boys in an orange glow as they watched it burn.

“Yeah. But still a good one.”

Horace smiled. “I’m glad. It’s been too long since we’ve had one of those.”

Will turns to Horace, “Did you forgive Halt?”

“No. Not really. But he’s here, and that’s a start.” Horace stretched his legs out in front of him. “How much of his conversation with Pauline and Crowley did you hear?”

Will snorts, “All of it. I mean, I lost an arm, not my ears. Did they really think I couldn’t hear them?”

Horace laughs, “I swear, for three of the smartest people I know, they can be clueless sometimes.”

“I think they still sometimes look at us like we’re the oblivious fifteen year olds they first met.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About?” Will asks with a tilt of his head.

Horace rolls his eyes, “About what they were saying. Where do you want to go from here?”

Will dropped his head back and stared up at the stars. “I don’t know. Yesterday I wanted to die. Today felt like nothing had changed. How am I supposed to know what tomorrow will bring? How do I make a choice for my future when I barely understand how I feel right now?”

“I don’t think you need to. I mean, I know for practical reasons Crowley wants to know what to expect, but who cares what he wants. This is still your life Will. You get to decide how you want to live it. And if you need more time to figure that out? Well, that’s no one’s business but yours.”

“What do you think I should do?”

Horace’s silence answered the question before he could. Will knew already knew his answer when he finally said, “I don’t want to watch you get hurt again. And I think you’ve given this country more than enough. I wish you could slow down, be safe, relax. But I also know you. Your mind doesn’t know how to slow down, it never has. So I can’t tell you to stop. I can’t be the one to do that to you. But I will be the one who will always be here to patch you back up, no matter what.”

Will closed his eyes. “I’m tired Horace.”

The words hung in the campfire smoke. Sparks jumped and illuminated them. Caught them on fire. Those three words held so much more weight than either boy was equipped to handle at this moment. The words burn and turned to ash and Horace said, “I know. Let’s go to bed.”

---- ——————————————————————————————————————-

Halt woke at dawn and moved silently out of the cabin, carefully stepping around a sleeping Gilan on the floor. Not that it mattered. Halt could have stepped on Gilan’s hand while wearing bells and the man wouldn’t have woken up. In the field, or even his own home, he slept the same as any ranger, silent and light, ready to leap up at any moment. But whenever he was at Halt’s, he slept like a teenager all over again. It had been a problem when he was still an apprentice, but now, it nearly brought Halt to tears. The complete trust Gilan had in him hadn’t changed even after all these years. Gilan had full confidence that Halt would protect him. Halt wondered if Will will be able to have that kind of trust in him again. Part of Halt hoped not. He didn’t want to Will trust people who hurt him, to give them the opportunity to do it again. Even if that included him. The other part, the part that wasn’t a ranger but felt scarily close to a father, was ready to do whatever it took to regain that trust.

The sun took its time rising. Halt leaned against the veranda railing as it crested over the trees, their foliage turning from a deep evergreen to a glowing emerald. The morning chill was chased away as the dew evaporated. The trio of ranger horses by the stable nickered and Halt watched Sir Rodney and Crowley ride in.

“Good morning Halt.” Rodney nodded to him.

“You’re up bright and early.”

He frowned, “In all honesty, I couldn’t sleep. Not after Crowley told me what happened. Where’s Will?” His concern was almost tangible, and Halt had to fight off a wave of defensiveness. Rodney was here to help, Halt reminded himself. Just like Crowley. Just like he was.

It occurred to Halt that despite the fact that Will had grown up without a father, he now had nearly a half dozen of them. There was an ever growing list of men who’d do anything to protect him, to hold him, to comfort him. And Halt was at the top of that list.

“He’s still sleeping. The boys had a late night.”

“How is-“ Rodney cut himself off, “That’s stupid. What does he need?”

“I don’t know.” Halt admitted.

“That’s what we are here to figure out.” Crowley clapped Halt on the shoulder. “Let’s get some coffee going.”

Gilan was awake by the time the three men stepped inside, sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

“Good morning Gilan.” Rodney smiled.

Gilan’s muttered response was unintelligible as he yawned and stretched.

“You won’t get much more of a response from him until he’s had his coffee.” Halt said as he placed a pot of water over the fire he had revived.

“You rangers are too dependent on the stuff.” Rodney teased.

“You tell ‘em.” Horace said as he entered the living space, stepping over Gilan’s outstretched legs.

“Horace! Good to see you son.” Rodney pulled Horace into a quick hug.

“You too sir, I just wish it was under better circumstances.” Horace’s voice was cool and serious.

Rodney’s face clouded. How had he forgotten so quickly? How had he fallen into the same old pattern of easy comradely with his friends? How could he, when Will, the same Will he had watched grow up, the Will who’s heart he had broken when he denied him a place in battle school, was on the other side of the door broken and bruised and in pieces? How had he forgotten why he was here?

“Of course.” He nodded solemnly.

Horace sighed, clearly seeing Rodney berate himself. He collapsed into a chair. Gilan managed to pull himself into the one beside him and clutched an empty mug in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I don’t-“ Horace swallowed, “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want to enforce an environment of doom and gloom. That not helpful to anyone, least of all Will.”

“I understand Horace.”

Halt served the coffee and the men all took a seat around the table.

“So-“ Crowley began but Horace cut him off.

“Don’t you think Will should be here for this?”

“Do I have to?” Will appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. “I mean, you’ve done a good job making decisions for me so far.” Will’s words should have come across as bitter and sarcastic, but they were filled to the brim with warmth and genuine appreciation. He walked across the room slowly, each step carefully planned to avoid any obstacles that could cause him to lose his footing.

Rodney was grateful for his years as a knight, years spent in active combat seeing all sorts of horrific injuries, because those years were the only thing that kept his face from falling. Will was a wreak, half healed cuts and yellow bruises marbling his skin. And the gruesome focal point of it all, the missing arm. Hearing about what had occurred from Crowley and seeing the aftermath for himself were two very different experiences.

Horace smiled at his friend and stood, guiding Will to take his seat. “Well, if it was left up to me I’d wrapped you in wool and never let you out of the cabin again.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me, meeting adjourned.” Gilan clapped.

“Wait- no.” Will’s eyes widen.

“Yes, what a great idea Horace.” Halt agreed.

“No, guys.” Will’s voice was teetering on a whine. “I can’t be caged up here.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to be part of this conversation won’t you?”

Will narrowed his eyes at Horace, who grinned back innocently. Will turned to the rest of the group. “I’m not sure what I want.”

“What about what’s not on the table?” Crowley offered.

“Um…” Will’s hand fluttered by his shoulder, just above where it dropped into empty space. “I think, I’m mean. I know I can’t go back to Seacliff. I still need a lot of help from Horace to do basic things. I’m getting better with practice, but. Yeah, I think it will be a while before I can live alone. If ever.” Once it was out, Will realized it wasn’t as scary to admit as he thought it would be. After all, his least favorite thing about being a ranger was being alone so offen. He mentally added it his short, but growing, list of bright spots.

“I might be able to help with that.” Will’s questioning eyes jump from the table to Rodney. He cleared his continued, “A knight I grew up with lost his arm to a Skandian ax ten years ago. Sir Harken. Recovery took a fair while but he’s lived in his own ever since. He works as an advisor to the battle master a few fiefs over. I’m confident he’d be happy to visit and see if he can help you navigate day to day tasks.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.” Will smiled at him.

“I’ll sent word out today.”

“Have you given any thoughts to your place in the Corps?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t want to retire. That feels like, defeat. But I guess it’s my only option. I can barely get dressed, much less string and draw a bow.” Will toyed with the silver pendant that still hung around his neck. He couldn’t envision what it would feel like to have a gold one instead. To know that he could no longer serve his king. His country. His people. It made his stomach roll just thinking about it.

“You could take on an administrative roll, work with Crowley at Castle Araluen.” Horace suggested, eager at the idea of having Will permanently close to home.

Will tried to hold back as grimace at the thought. He knew Horace was just trying to help, but the thought of sitting in an office all day long struggling through mountains off paperwork was something straight out of a nightmare.

Crowley read the look and Will’s face and clear his throat. “Might I suggest an alternative?” He said gently. “I had always planned on you training several apprentices. You’ve had the personality for it since day one, and your skill speaks for itself. I was wondering if you’d be willing to train full time and assess the apprentices at the gathering each year.”

“Train full time, like, have an apprentice?” Will furrowed his brow. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but a huge part of ranger training is actually going out on missions I can’t…” He trailed off. They all know what he can’t do. But Crowley wanted to remind them all of what he could do, what he’s always been able to do. Help those who need it.

“Actually,” Crowley explained, “I mean you travel to each fief with an apprentice and help train them at their home base for a month or so. And if needs be, take over temporarily if something were to happen with their ranger. I’m not sure if your problem solving ability is something that can be taught, but I’m eager to find out. If, that is, you’re interested.”

Will’s eyes widened and he felt them prick with tears. Since the attack, Will was distressed at the idea of becoming useless. Unable to help anyone, being a burden on his loved ones. But here was Crowley, the Ranger Commandant, offering him a way to help. To teach a whole new generation of rangers. Crowley wasn’t just offering a new job, but a new lease on life.

“Well, what do you think Will?” Halt asked.

“You don’t have to agree to anything just yet.” Crowley hurried to add. “You’re still recovering. You can take all the time you need-“

“Yes. Yes please. I’ll do it.” The words rushed out of Will, as if they were racing to get out before Crowley could rescind the offer.

Crowley bit back his smile at Will’s eagerness, “Right, well then, that’s settled. I still want you to take time to recover. But while you do, you can start thinking about lesson plans for your future students. And,” He glanced between Horace and Halt, knowing that what he was about to say had the potential to start a custody battle between the two men, “you can think about where you’d like to have your home base for when you’re between apprentices and gatherings.”

“He can stay with me.” Horace and Halt’s twin answers overlap each other. Horace narrows his eyes, but Halt holds his ground.

“We can work that out once you’ve recovered a bit more.”

Will smiled gratefully at Crowley for the escape route from the conversation he was offering, but he had already made his decision. “Or, I can just do both.” He looks up at Horace, who is standing behind him with a protective had on the back of his chair. “It’ll be nice to be able to see you and Cass more, and it’s convenient if I need to speak with Crowley about the assignments.” He then turns to Halt, “But Redmont has always been my home. It’s where most of my family still is. I’m not ready to give that all up yet. So, I’ll just go back and forth. After all, home isn’t about a house, or things, it’s the people around you.”

Horace opens his mouth to respond, but thinks better at it after Will levels him with a firm look.

“I think that’s a wonderful compromise Will.” Rodney said. “I know I speak for many people in Redmont when I say it’ll be nice to have you back, even if it’s just part of the year.”

“Right, now that we’ve settled that, would someone mind pouring me a cup of coffee and filling me in on everything I’ve missed these past couple weeks? And don’t pretend you don’t know anything, ranger’s are the biggest gossips.” Will grinned.

The group of men laughed and the tension that had taken root in the cabin for weeks popped like a bubble. They all sat around the table, talking and sipping coffee until the sun was high in the sky. One by one, the men dispersed, Rodney and Crowley to send out letters and begin paperwork, Gilan to collect lunch and possibly their friends from Jenny’s tavern, dragging Horace along with him, leaving only Halt and Will in the cabin. They moved from the table to the sofa and Will immediately pulled his legs up under him.

“Are you cold?” Halt asked, already reaching for the quilt that was draped over the armchair beside him.

“A little. I’ve been cold since, well, since. Horace thinks it’s because I lost so much blood, but I think it’s because I haven’t really been wearing shirts. They’re too much work with all the bandages.”

“You can ask for help you know.” Halt told him as he tucked the quilt around Will.

“I know. I do. Horace and Gil have gone above and beyond the call of duty.”

“You can ask me too. If you want. I’ll alway be happy to help.” Halt’s words were quiet, as if he wasn’t sure they were worth saying.

Will nodded and studied Halt. “We’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?”

“I’m trying kid.”

“This, this nightmare, it’s over now. I’m not saying my life is going to be easy. And I’m sure I’ll have plenty of dark days, plenty of time I’ll be ready to throw in the towel, but I’m also certain I’ll have just as many good days, if not more.”

Halt looked intently at Will. “When did you get so smart?”

Will grinned, “Maybe I always have been and you’ve just never noticed.”

“No, that’s not it. I definitely remember you being a bit of an idiot back in the day. All my years of training must have final sunken in.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is.”

There a was a pause then Halt said, “I’m proud of you Will. I’ve always been proud of you. You-“ He swallowed around the lump the was forming in his throat, “you are remarkable. You always have been. And if you decide that you don’t want to train apprentices, if you want to retire, I will still be just as proud. Nothing you do will ever change that. You hear me?”

Will blinked back tears and sniffed. “Yeah. I know that.”

“Good. Don’t you ever forget just how much you mean to me Will. I’d give my life for you. You are like a son me.”

Will propelled himself forward across the couch to hug Halt. It was awkward and a bit painful, but Will needed it like he needed oxygen, and based on the way Halt clutched Will, he knew Halt felt the same.

It was going to be hard, and it was going to take more time than Will was willing to admit at the moment, but he knew that they, that he, was going to be just fine.

A/N: And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who’s commented, liked, and read. Can’t wait to get started on the next adventure!

[myriadof-fandoms]

harringrove week - day 5 - one look at you and i can't disguise

prompt: outsider pov

"wait, talk me through it again?" chrissy is really trying to keep up but occasionally her best friend has a habit of talking in riddles.

billy sighs, lighting another cigarette but holding it away from her so the smoke doesn't hit her, "harrington's making fun of me."

"right, because-"

"because he smiles at me!" billy is only mumbling now, looking away from her.

they're parked on a dirt road with a view of one of the countless fields surrounding hawkins. it's become a habit of sorts, when basketball and cheer practice end at the same time they say they have to study for their spanish class together. instead of doing any such thing they drive past the town sign, park somewhere quiet to sit on the hood of billy's car and talk.

"billy, i promise i'm trying to understand but how does that mean he's making fun of you?"

he huffs and repeats himself, "because he fucking hates me. i beat him up, i was generally not the nicest person around him and then he ignored me for a year. now everytime i have to drive max to that stupid video store he smiles at me like- like that's normal."

"it kinda is what people in service jobs have to do?" chrissy throws in while picking at her nail beds.

"chris, i've seen him with other customers though. the other week max dragged me there to get breakfast club again and tina and her new boyfriend were at the counter when we came in. harrington did not smile once."

"so do you watch him the entire time you're there?"

the thing is that billy's told her he likes boys. only once and very quietly and with bated breath like he expected the worst from her. she just hugged him instead.

"of course not."

chrissy wonders if he knows that he's blushing.

their friendship had developed over shared classes and projects and her being around the basketball team due to jason. though what really made her and billy talk was jason himself - specifically his inability to leave her alone when she told him to. billy only had to witness her having to tell jason no more than once before he even considered listening to her one time before he stepped between them.

billy stuck around her whenever they were in the vicinity of jason and so they talked. a shitty home life, albeit differently so, brought them closer and billy's trust sealed it all.

that was the last time jason ever tried to convince her to do anything and when she ended their relationship, with billy only some feet away, he went away without much arguing. how he called her a bitch and only left because he was scared of billy not because he respected chrissy herself still tastes bitter in her mouth but having gained a best friend out of the whole mess makes that easier to bear.

and though he never said it explicitly again, he's mentioned a few guys from california. he trusts her enough to do that.

and he mentions steve harrington. in fact billy talks about almost nothing but steve harrington without ever realising that himself.

"i ran into harrington."

"harrington wore different jeans to work."

"steve helped me find a movie."

"max says the rumours aren't true. harrington and wheeler are not back together.

and as of recently "harrington hates me because he smiles at me."

"king steve has a new haircut."

"maybe steve wants to be friends? maybe he's ready to move on from what happened," chrissy says hesitantly though she can guess how billy's reaction will look. not once has any hint to steve wanting to be nice actually helped.

so just like chrissy knows that it's not his sister max who likes watching breakfast club, she has come to realise that max's not the one who wants to go to family video at least twice a week. chrissy doesn't quite know how to get billy out of his denial though.

"yeah, right." he scoffs at her and smokes the last of his cigarette before flicking it on the gravel.

it's always the same, sheer and immediate denial of the chance that steve might like billy. if chrissy has to hear another story that involves steve staring at billy with "weird bambi eyes" while he's trying to act nonchalant she might simply have to tell billy that he's being idiotic though. she's reaching her limit.

for the time being she lets billy believe what he wants since her curfew is coming around quicker than she wants.

billy seems to notice their time running thin just like she did, "c'mon, we should head back."

while they drive the rest of the way billy teaches her one spanish curse word as usual, a little loophole that makes their afternoons less of a lie.

billy helps her off the hood and then turns on her favourite tape of his in the car. they both sing along with stevie nicks until they enter hawkins again.

the familiar anxiety starts to grow in her stomach when he parks in front of her house. so as usual she stalls at least for another moment.

"oh, i picked up your weed from eddie." chrissy leans down and picks through her backpack for the small bag she collected for billy during break.

when she hands it over billy is grinning at her and chrissy knows what to expect.

"you know if you just ask munson out on a date you don't have to to pick up my drugs as an excuse to see him anymore, right?"

now it's chrissy's turn to blush while she gets out of the passenger seat. billy's cackling lightly behind her, sounding way too self-satisfied and so before she closes the door chrissy leans back inside to look at him.

"maybe if you get your head out of your ass and ask out steve i'll ask out eddie."

billy's flushed, shocked face makes her giggle all the way to the door.

perhaps they're both useless when it comes to boys but at least they're hopeless together.

[skyyknights]

Ao3 | @zelinkcommunity | go to ao3 for my notes!

Ganondorf is dead.

And Zelda is supposed to feel elated about it, to feel relief that finally her people are safe, that no more evil lurks in her kingdom’s hills and towns and valleys. She is supposed to feel overjoyed that Hyrule is no longer in danger.

But she feels no relief, or happiness. Instead there is insurmountable grief clawing at her throat as she stands next to the hero of Twilight, staring across Hyrule Field with a blank expression. Her gown is stained with dirt and ash, but she can’t bring herself to care. Not now. Not when everything is upside down.

“So it’s over, then.” Her voice is rough even to her own ears, and she knows the trembling in her words must be obvious.

Link turns to face her, and for the first time she notices the blood smeared across his tunic, around his mouth, crusted in his bangs. Some is Ganondorf’s, but much of it is his own, spouting from wounds that need to be attended to sooner rather than later. For the present, however, Zelda cannot process much of anything.

We won, she thinks numbly to herself, eyes dry and stinging as a cold wind whips past.

We won.

But at what cost? Her kingdom is in shambles. Hundreds of soldiers and civilians lie dead, their corpses rotting and mangled, some in places they may never be found. Those who remain are still frightened for their lives, desperate for leadership she cannot offer them at the moment. She is too trapped in her own head, as if she is still walled up alone in her room.

They had given her a choice. Surrender, or everyone in your kingdom perishes. Give in, or they will be slaughtered without mercy.

Of course she had surrendered. That was the only possibility in her mind. And yet they had killed her people in masses anyway, murdering innocent men and women and children as if their lives were worth absolutely nothing. She can still taste their blood upon her tongue when she swallows.

Zant had shut her up in her tower, leaving her doomed to stare out the window at her crumbling kingdom as the rainy twilight swallowed it whole. Alone she had grieved, weeping silently for those who had been lost, refusing to let herself block out the screams that rose afresh each night. Forcing herself to listen to the anguish of her people, to dwell on the fact that there was nothing she could do.

The prophecies had spoken of a hero who would come, eventually.

But Zelda did not have much faith in eventually. For all she knew, the hero might not even appear in her lifetime. And if that were the case, she would be doomed to sit gazing out her window as her kingdom fell into shattered pieces, remnants of a once-beautiful realm now plunged into shadow.

And then, a mere matter of days had gone by before the door to her room, left unlocked so her guard could bring her meals every evening, was shoved open, and he had stepped in.

If she was honest, Zelda was expecting a man.

Instead she had been greeted by the sight of a beast, his thick fur rain-drenched and muddy as he stared up at her with impossibly blue eyes. There was a pang in her chest at the sight of the shackle round his leg, and the fragile hope she had harbored deep within her was swiftly crushed.

A wolf could not save Hyrule.

And yet, she stands beside him now in the sunset, a natural twilight that stretches warmly over the fields. Smoke is rising from Castle Town, and she smells it on the wind, thick and heavy and tinged with the faintest scent of blood.

The hero is watching her. He has not spoken since Ganondorf at last fell; he has simply stood beside her, silent and watchful. His tunic is covered with slashes and burns edged in crimson, and his hands and face are painted in blood as he finally resheathes his sword.

But the eyes that look at her are the same eyes as those of the wolf who stood in her tower, so long ago. She couldn’t forget their piercing blue even if she tried.

Zelda swallows the grief that is threatening to overwhelm her and turns away from him, chest aching. “We should return to the castle,” she hears herself saying distantly, her voice unrecognizable even to herself. “Your wounds need attending to.”

And soon, they must begin to count the dead.

—

Zelda is quiet on the ride back to Castle Town, seated behind Link with her bow strapped to her torso. There is a sour taste in her mouth that she can’t quite explain as the drawbridge looms nearer, seeming to spell out her own doom.

People are weeping in the town square, dancing and rejoicing that they are finally safe, that Ganondorf has been vanquished. They cry out as Link and Zelda ride past, tear-streaked faces uplifted, tossing handfuls of flowers into Epona’s path as she trots towards the castle.

“Thank you,” their voices echo, over and over, until Zelda wants to scream in agony. She does not deserve to be thanked; she did nothing for them. She let her people die. Her hands are stained with the blood of guardsmen and the lives of civilians. She does not look at her people as they ride past, Epona’s hooves crushing flowers underfoot and filling the air with perfume.

Link brings Epona to a halt in the courtyard and jumps lightly to the ground, reaching up to help Zelda. She grips his hand firmly, repressing a shudder at the feel of the crusted blood on his palm, and swings to the ground, her bow heavy on her back. It weighs scarcely anything, but right now it seems to be cutting into her shoulders, dragging her entire body downwards. Down into the earth with the bones of her people, where she belongs.

“I’ll be inside in a few minutes,” she dimly hears Link say, followed by the light clatter of hooves across cobblestone. Zelda’s nod is belated, too late for him to see, and her gaze follows him across the courtyard. His posture is slightly slumped, his head bowed, and she detects a slight limp in his right leg. He badly needs attending to, but he is a farm boy; of course he is putting his horse before himself.

Zelda swallows bile as she half-drags herself towards the double doors leading inside the castle. She isn’t injured, at least not physically– Link made sure to check that she was all right before they began the ride back to town. But her mind and heart are so weighed down that she might as well be momentarily crippled. She is scarcely able to get herself safely into the castle.

Once inside, Zelda falls to her knees amid crumbling stone and tiles and plants her palms on the floor, heaving for breath.

Are you all right, Princess? Link had inquired gently, caringly, a few moments after Ganondorf’s defeat.

And Zelda had lied to him, unable to tell him the truth.

She had responded that yes, she was all right.

Now she curls into a ball on the dusty, cracked floor and wraps her arms around herself and weeps. Zelda has never really been one for crying, but she cannot stop the aching sobs as they rip painfully from her, one by one, her cheek pressed against cold tile. Her cries fill the room with an anguished, illegible noise that rolls off of the walls and echoes through the empty chamber again and again.

The soul-crushing grief and loneliness from her days cooped up in her tower slam into her, again and again, driving her deeper into a pit of darkness that she isn’t fully able to explain. All she knows is that she has carried the burden of Hyrule’s dead with her, ever since the invasion began. Ever since the terrified screams and pleas for mercy rose from the town square. Ever since the cobbles were washed red with innocent blood.

Zelda weeps until her throat is raw from it, until her eyes and face are swollen and stiff, until she can scarcely breathe through the heaving sobs. She clenches her hands tight and presses her face against the floor and lets herself cry with all the emotion that was forbidden her as a child. Princesses don’t cry, her guardians had said. Be strong for your people. And she had been. She had. But she can’t hold it in anymore.

So she weeps.

And just as the ruined surroundings of the castle are beginning to fade into inky oblivion, just as Zelda is slipping away into exhausted unconsciousness born from grief, she feels hands pressing against her shoulder. Instantly every nerve in her body is on alert again, her brain irrationally screaming to her that Ganondorf has returned and Zant is shrouding the lands in a second twilight, but then she sees worn leather gloves and forest green cloth.

Link.

He is bleeding still from injuries she desperately needs to tend to, but she is all tears and gracelessness as he slides his arms beneath hers and lifts her torso carefully. Before she knows what is happening, her cheek is pressed against his chest, soft cloth brushing her skin, and his arms are wound tightly around her, the fingers of one hand threading into her hair.

“Shhhhh,” Link whispers, as if he is soothing a lost child, frightened and alone. But, Zelda reflects slowly, she is no more than that right now, drowning in grief and desperation, her hands soaked in figurative blood.

She scarcely knows the hero, but she doesn’t need to be much acquainted with him to know she already trusts him with her life. So Zelda grips his tunic in her hands and buries her face in his chest, shaking as she tries to control the last straggling tears. His heartbeat is steady and solid beneath her cheek, pounding rhythmically in her ear, and he is warm against her, a sturdy pressure grounding her to the earth as her last facade crumbles away.

Princesses don’t cry, she was always told. Be strong. Show little emotion. Someday you will be queen.

But Link doesn’t seem to mind as she weeps into his tunic. He just holds her closer, his fingers tangling in her hair as she struggles to get her breathing back in check. “You’re all right,” he murmurs gently, cheek pressed against the top of her head. He seems to know exactly what she needs to hear right now, because in the next moment he whispers, “Hyrule is safe. And none of this was your fault.”

She wishes she could believe that. And maybe she will be able to, someday. But for now she continues to cling to him, allowing herself more emotion than she has been permitted to show in years, and he rocks her back and forth, humming under his breath. “Shhhh,” he soothes, and she feels him press a brief kiss to the top of her head. “Shhh.”

And just for the moment she doesn’t care that she must be comforted like a lost and frightened child. Just for the moment she doesn’t care that the hero of Twilight has seen his future queen sobbing and helpless. Because she does trust him with her life, and she is sure she always will.

The nobles of her kingdom would cry out in humiliated outrage should they see their princess in such a state. Get up at once, they would shriek, tugging frantically at her arms, pulling at her skirts. Such disgraceful behavior is forbidden, your Highness!

But, as she finally begins to drift off encased in the hero’s warm embrace, Zelda finds that she really, really doesn’t care what they would think.

[specialinterestshows]

Dispense advice and receive a surprise in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic

Warnings for this section: Stoner themes (mentions of being baked), dirty talk

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 49 of ?): Once You Reach

Once you open the door and step out, you realize just how baked you are; your body is a bit heavy and for a few seconds it feels almost like you're moving in slow motion as you look up and take in the vivid details of the trees in the parking lot, waving gently in the slight breeze. You turn around to the sight of smoke slowly exiting your car along with Damian, whose pink eyes and slight stumble tell you he's just as high as you are, if not more so.

"Now I see why Rhea has to be the one driving," you giggle, joining him on the slow walk back to the table.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Damian says, grinning a bit too much to sound defensive, "You can't stumble sitting inside a car."

"Yeah, no stumbling," you concede before continuing, "Just the dozens of other large, metal vehicles going at high speeds, driven by people with short tempers and powered by explosions."

"... You might have a point," he said before sighing - not sounding quite as sad as before but still looking across the distance between the two of you and the table, stopping in his tracks.

"If you haven't talked to him, you should," you say, realizing by Damian's reaction that he knew exactly what you meant, "Not that it's any of my business, but if it was me- when it's been me, talking about things honestly did a lot more good than being bitter ever did."

He seems to consider your advice for a moment before allowing himself a small grin.

"You're two-for-two on making good points," Damian admits, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You're sure you see his cheeks pinking up a bit, but decide not to say anything.

"Todo bien?" the familiar voice behind you makes you turn around to the sight of Dominik walking toward the two of you.

"Ningunos problemas," Damian replies before giving you an appreciative smile.

"Mira, can we talk?" Dom asks, looking at you this time.

"I have to see a man about a conversation, anyway," Damian says, winking at you, "Thanks, chica."

Dominik watches until Damian is out of earshot, a slightly puzzled expression on his face, before saying anything.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier," he still seemed a bit embarrassed, but you could tell he was keeping a respectful distance and gauging your reaction to see if you felt unsafe, "I didn't know Rhea was going to do that and I- well, I think you're- um- anyway, I'm sorry."

Dominik's face was about as red as it was at the end of a particularly long match by the time he finished speaking.

"You don't have to apologize," you say once you're sure he doesn't have more to add, "I actually feel pretty comfortable around you since you helped me out at the show last night. Rhe's comment was just sort of out of left field and this is the first non-monogamous relationship I've ever been in. It's a lot really quickly, y'know?"

Dom nods, a relieved expression on his face, "If I do make you uncomfortable, just let me know."

"I appreciate it," you reply, smiling and taking in the way he looked at you before saying, "Earlier you said you think I'm- but you didn't finish your sentence." - Dominik, having calmed a bit since you reassured him, blushed intensely again - "So what do you think I am?"

He cleared his throat before messing with the collar of his shirt and admitting, "Muy hermosa - very pretty."

"Thank you," you respond, grinning harder and looking him up and down before adding "You're quite the pretty boy yourself" and winking before turning around and walking to the table, knowing full well Dom was caught off-guard and likely too flustered to respond. You may not be ready to date anyone else for the time being, but flirting was proving to be a lot of fun.

"Welcome back, babe," Rhea greeted you as you sauntered up to the table, noticing the only other person sitting with her was JD, "I don't know what you told him, but Damian asked Finn if they could talk and it sounds like he's going to apologize or something. So thank you."

"Everyone keeps thanking you today," Dominik says, finally catching up to you as you sit down, "Why is that?"

"Whatever the reason, you're both going to be thanking me here in a minute," Rhea says, pulling out a gift bag stuffed with tissue paper out of her messenger bag. From it, she pulled out a small box, handing the rest of the gift bag to you and the box to Dom.

"Go ahead," she says, leaning back in her chair and putting her hands behind her head, "Open them."

Pulling out the tissue paper on top, your eyes fall on a black leather collar whose ring has a heart-shaped silver tag hanging from it. Pulling it out, you grip the smooth leather and grab the tag, blushing when you read the engraved text: "Mami's good girl." When you turn over the tag and read the other side, it only makes you blush harder: "Slut."

Looking up, you see Dominik is holding a heart-shaped tag and realize Rhea probably already bought him a collar much earlier in their relationship.

"Show each other what Mami got you," she orders, watching you both shyly swap gifts to look at them before saying, "And don't forget to say thank you."

"Thank you, Mami," you and Dom say in unison, flustered because you both knew what the other was about to read.

His tag was similar to yours on one side: "Mami's good boy." However, you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows when you read what was engraved on the other side: "Bitch."

Looking up, you see Dominik - blushing intensely once again - bite his lip and struggle to look at you as you give each other back your respective gifts. Rhea giggles, watching the exchange before you put your new collar back in the gift bag. Remembering JD, you turn to see him alternating between looking at his phone and looking up in the direction of the parking lot where, presumably, Finn and Damian were talking. You instinctively crossed your fingers underneath the table that your advice was exactly what the situation called for.

[end part forty-nine of ?]

Part 50: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/729946450790858752/absolute-smokeshow-part-50-of-the-other-side

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domlynch

[obsidian-sphere]

Because of the films featuring the character of Tarzan, most people think of him as a guy in a leopard-skin loincloth swinging around the jungle while barking out barely understandable bad English.

The novels, however, were another thing altogether, with him far more complex and even speaking whole sentences not just in English but in at least three or four other languages.

This is most obvious in the second book in the series, The Return of Tarzan (1913), the first third of which is spent in Paris, where he introduces himself by handing out cards printed “M. Jean C. Tarzan” and amuses himself with smoking, drinking absinthe and going to the musical theater.

Take this bit from Chapter Three of The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Quote

Tarzan shook his head. “You do not know her,” he said. “Nothing could bind her closer to her bargain than some misfortune to Clayton. She is from an old southern family in America, and southerners pride themselves upon their loyalty.”

Tarzan spent the two following weeks renewing his former brief acquaintance with Paris. In the daytime he haunted the libraries and picture galleries. He had become an omnivorous reader, and the world of possibilities that were opened to him in this seat of culture and learning fairly appalled him when he contemplated the very infinitesimal crumb of the sum total of human knowledge that a single individual might hope to acquire even after a lifetime of study and research; but he learned what he could by day, and threw himself into a search for relaxation and amusement at night. Nor did he find Paris a whit less fertile field for his nocturnal avocation.

If he smoked too many cigarettes and drank too much absinth it was because he took civilization as he found it, and did the things that he found his civilized brothers doing. The life was a new and alluring one, and in addition he had a sorrow in his breast and a great longing which he knew could never be fulfilled, and so he sought in study and in dissipation—the two extremes—to forget the past and inhibit contemplation of the future.

He was sitting in a music hall one evening, sipping his absinth and admiring the art of a certain famous Russian dancer, when he caught a passing glimpse of a pair of evil black eyes upon him. The man turned and was lost in the crowd at the exit before Tarzan could catch a good look at him, but he was confident that he had seen those eyes before and that they had been fastened on him this evening through no passing accident. He had had the uncanny feeling for some time that he was being watched, and it was in response to this animal instinct that was strong within him that he had turned suddenly and surprised the eyes in the very act of watching him.

Before he left the music hall the matter had been forgotten, nor did he notice the swarthy individual who stepped deeper into the shadows of an opposite doorway as Tarzan emerged from the brilliantly lighted amusement hall.

Had Tarzan but known it, he had been followed many times from this and other places of amusement, but seldom if ever had he been alone. Tonight D’Arnot had had another engagement, and Tarzan had come by himself.

As he turned in the direction he was accustomed to taking from this part of Paris to his apartments, the watcher across the street ran from his hiding-place and hurried on ahead at a rapid pace.

Tarzan had been wont to traverse the Rue Maule on his way home at night. Because it was very quiet and very dark it reminded him more of his beloved African jungle than did the noisy and garish streets surrounding it. If you are familiar with your Paris you will recall the narrow, forbidding precincts of the Rue Maule. If you are not, you need but ask the police about it to learn that in all Paris there is no street to which you should give a wider berth after dark.

End Quote

Later, after tearing apart a dozen Paris street toughs set on him in an ambush devised by the book’s main villain and then beating the crap out of four policemen who try to arrest him for doing this, (he escapes by jumping out of an upper story window and gets back to his apartments in Paris by swinging from lamp post to lamp post) he even becomes an agent of the French Ministry of War.

Why has no one ever felt the need to write any pastiches based on Jean C. Tarzan, International Man of Mystery?

[onamentalone]

❛Earshot❜

pairings: post outbreak! Joel x fem!oc

summary: when being made partners shortly after the departure of Jess, Joel decides to confess the feelings he’s kept cooped up after Ellie spurs him on, however, she quickly lives to regret it.

warnings: implied smut, age gap, language

///

“Fuck!” Ellie yelled, loosing yet another round of rock, paper, scissors to the girl sat in the passenger seat. “You seriously suck at this.” Thea laughed, preparing for a new game.

Joel suspected that this was one of the only times that Thea had actually interacted with someone closer to her age. I mean yeah, she was still 6 years older than Ellie but it was certainly a rare occurrence to see adolescence since the rise of the cordyceps infection.

“Hey! Eyes on the map please!” Joel snapped.

Thea quickly turned around and flattened the paper map onto her lap, following previous lines in order to find their current location.

The girl stole a quick glance at Joel, one hand on the steering wheel and one resting by the window. His eyebrows furrowed and that permanent sheen of dirt across his forehead that could not be shifted despite the shower he had taken earlier at Frank and Bill’s house.

“Alright, that’s enough for today.” Joel huffed, before pulling off the side of the road, through a field, and then into a small patch of trees.

Thea opened the door almost immediately, glad to finally stretch her legs after hours of driving. Joel’s eyes wandered to the girls ass as she stepped out of the vehicle, taking a sharp inhale before doing the same.

///

“You should just make your move already, macho man.” Ellie smiled, poking her stick around in the mud.

Joel quickly shifted his sight line from Thea, who was checking the area for any signs of other life form a few acres away, back to the pot of ravioli that he was cooking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said in a dismissive tone, knowing exactly what Ellie was referring to.

“Mhm sure, I saw you checking her out earlier.”

Not wanting to dig himself further into a hole, Joel stayed quiet. Knowing there was no excuse that he could make up that would seem plausible.

“She likes you, ya know.”

“No she doesn’t. She’s young enough to be my … daughter.”

“Have you seen the way she looks at you!? Seriously just fuck her already!”

Joel simply grunted in response, tapping a spoon against the side of the pot to indicate the food was ready.

///

“How long are we actually staying out here?” Ellie asked.

“Me ‘nd Thea take turns on watch tonight, then drive tomorrow all day, all night. Get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.”

“Can we start a fire, I’m freezing.” Ellie asked.

“Now why am I going to tell you no?” Joel replied in a slightly passive tone.

“Because infected will see the smoke?”

“No. Fungus isn’t that smart. This is too remote for infected anyway.”

“People?” Ellie said, raising her eyebrows as she spoke. “So what’re they gunna do, rob us?”

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind that that.” Thea spoke, causing Ellie to fall quiet.

///

“Thea. Thea! Wake up!” Joel hissed into the girls ear.

She groaned before rubbing her eyes and sitting upwards.

“Time for you to take watch.” He whispered.

She could barely make his face out in the dark but she could tell he was tired. Joel grabbed both of the girls hands before pulling her up and handing her the gun.

A couple of hours had passed since Joel had woken Thea up. The girl had began to feel drowsy but she knew she had to push through the feeling. Something she couldn’t quite shake however was the extremely low temperature.

She opened one of the car doors and rifled through the unorganised supplies before coming across one of Joel’s spare jackets.

However, before she was able to put it on, a twig snapped behind the girl. She quickly turned, holding her gun and a torch up to be met by a slightly terrified Joel.

“Woah!” He said, putting up his hands. Thea lowered the gun and let out a sigh of relief.

“Jesus christ.”

“You alright?” Joel asked, softening his gaze once the girl had let her guard down.

“Yeah yeah, just … freezing.” She explained.

Joel took the gun off the girl, placing it on the floor, before he took his jacket out of the girls tight clutch and draped it around her shoulders.

“Better?” Joel asked with a smile. the girl only chuckled in return, using her hands to tug the jacket closer around her body.

“Uhm, I know something else that could warm you up…” He stated in a meek tone, taking a step closer to the girl.

“What are you implying Joel Miller?” Thea giggles.

Joel closed the car door before pushing the girl up against the vehicle. He wasted no time getting into a heated make out session with Thea, both of their jackets discarded onto the floor and their bodies tangled.

“You know I’ve liked you for a while. You are gorgeous” He whispered, disconnecting their lips for a momentary breather.

Thea couldn’t take another second without his tongue roaming her mouth, she wrapped her forearms around his neck tightly and continued the kiss. Joel immediately reciprocates, released his firm grip around the girls ass and beginning to un-button his shirt.

“Hold on, are you sure? Ellie is sleeping just over there.” She asked, worry overcoming her other emotions.

“She’s out cold, just make sure not to make too much noise.” He smirked.

They didn’t exactly stick to that pact. A few small moans and a few ‘fuck’s had escaped Thea’s mouth but other than that, they both assumed they’d gone unheard.

///

“Nice jacket.” Ellie remarked. “Things get a little heated last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thea scoffed, sitting down next to the girl.

“Oh really? Because those sounds I heard last night say differently. Oh! And how could I forget the vigorous shaking of the truck?” Ellie smiled, knowing she was about to get a reaction.

Thea stayed silent, side eyeing Ellie as she watched the girl happily dissect a dead leaf.

“Oh Joel! Fuck, you’re so big!” Ellie mimicked, turning to watch Thea’s face drain of all colour.

“Look, all I’m saying is, if this is gunna become a regular occurrence, please make sure I am out of earshot!” Ellie said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, throwing the leaf back into the floor.

“What’re you two yapping about?” Joel asked, eyebrows knitted together and his hands set on his hips.

“Oh! Only the fact that you two wer-” Thea throw a hand over Ellie’s mouth, causing the pair to tumble onto the floor. Joel only scoffed at the sight of the girls wrestling in the dirt.

[naussensei]

Eruri Teachers AU - The One in Which Levi and Erwin go to a Field Trip

As agreed earlier, the different groups met at the Main Street in front of the Parliament building at lunch time, students and teachers sharing their experiences and making plans for lunch. It was the only real moment of freedom they had, able to walk around freely and choose where and what to eat with, and —Levi hoped— to drink.

After the students had regrouped with their friends, the teachers watched them scatter around the area, advising them not to go too far, as they would meet in about an hour again to continue the tour. Some of them took off instantly, others continued to take pictures with their friends, while most lingered around the main street like stray pups unsure of which road to take. Levi remained there for another minute, trying to decide which need he wished to fulfill first. Rest, eat, smoke, or pee.

“Levi,” he heard Erwin call, and turned to find him browsing in a hotdog stand in a corner of the street.

“Where’s Hange and the rest?” Said Levi, joining him.

“Not sure. They already went for lunch, I think,” said Erwin as he received the two hotdogs he’d just ordered, and thanked the vendor before he handed one to Levi.

Levi’s eyes narrowed at him with suspicion, but accepted the food either way, and followed Erwin across the street and into a park to sit on a bench.

“Thanks for the food… again,” Levi said, staring at his hot dog thoughtfully before taking a bite. “This is no good, I’m getting too used to being well fed by you.”

“I don’t see the problem with that,” Erwin said with a half smile as he took his first bite.

There’s no problem, Levi thought, except for what I’ll do with myself the day you get tired of me.

He shook his head, and saved the thoughts to himself, for there was no use in verbalizing them. He’d never been a man of many words, anyway; actions always spoke louder to him, and so action he would take.

They watched the people come and go into the park, eating mostly in silence, occasionally commenting on the trip so far. The sun was bright above them, warming the first leaves sprouting from the tree tops, a sign that spring was around the corner. And yet a breeze still chilled the air around them, and Levi had to pull up the collar of his trench coat to cut the cold air from his skin.

Just as he did, he felt the weight of a woolen scarf around his neck, and turned to find Erwin wrapping the scarf he had been wearing this whole time around Levi’s head until his face was nothing but eyes; the wool was still warm from Erwin’s body heat, and impregnated with his scent.

“Better?” Erwin said with a smile. It would’ve been the most charming smile Levi had seen from him so far, if it wasn’t for that miserable ketchup stain ruining the glamour of the image.

With his own napkin, Levi reached for Erwin’s face to wipe off the stain, Erwin’s eyes widening at him.

Satisfied by his work, Levi smiled now too. “Better.”

But the longer he looked into Erwin’s eyes, the deeper a feeling of uncertainty unsettled his stomach all of a sudden; the warmth around his neck too overwhelming to handle.

It was as if every time Levi took a step, Erwin always took two steps ahead. Was he doomed to always follow behind like a shadow and never lead? The thought was frustrating.

Levi suddenly rose from his seat.

“Wait here,” he ordered, and left Erwin sitting at the bench while he approached the ice cream stand to fetch a cone for each.

When Levi came back with two cones of ice cream, Erwin’s face lightened up instantly.

“Now we’re even,” said Levi.

“I think I haven’t had ice cream in a cone since I was a child,” he said, accepting the treat with the eagerness of a child trying candy for the first time, eyes glimmering.

“Were you ever a child, though?” Levi chuckled viciously, taking a seat next to him. “I thought you were born an old man.”

Erwin moved closer then, their legs now touching. “Look at you, making actual funny jokes that don’t involve defecation. I think Jean’s humor has rubbed off on you.”

“Fuck off,” Levi leaned on him in protest, although he was smiling, “the brat can be funny sometimes, I’ll give you that.”

Erwin pushed back softly, and they were soon bouncing back and forth, pushing and pulling,  ever so naturally, as if they were on the couch of Erwin’s living room. Before he could even think about it, Levi was resting his head on Erwin’s shoulder, one leg resting on Erwin’s lap, and a hand on his chest. Erwin instantly recoiled, stiffening in his seat as he averted his gaze; his reaction reminding them both of where they were.

Levi straightened up in his place, looked around the park, watched the people passing by with hurried steps, many of them couples walking holding hands, some others teenagers in school uniforms, but all of them too busy to mind them, to Levi’s relief.

“Sorry,” said Levi, clearing his throat before he resumed eating his ice cream, now melting in his hand; the white viscous liquid dripping from his hand.

He licked his fingers thoroughly, making sure he didn’t get any of it on his clothes —it was already his second change of clothes that day—. He was about to look for a tissue in his pocket when Erwin’s hand latched onto his wrist to pull him closer. Their gazes met, and for a moment Levi feared their lips would meet, too. But Erwin’s mouth went to his hand, and Levi watched Erwin’s tongue run up and down his dripping fingers. His jaw dropped, both excited and horrified by the scene.

Erwin stared at him with hungry eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he licked his lips , pupils dilated. It was only a second, but it was enough to make Levi’s stomach drop and his face burn red. Erwin seemed to realize this, and was now searching for a tissue in his pocket to hand it over to Levi.

“Now we’re even,” he said with a faint smile.

“That’s hardly being ‘even’, Erwin.” Levi huffed in frustration, bringing his free hand to his face. But his frustration came not from an unfulfilled carnal need, it was something else he couldn’t quite grasp. Once again, no matter what he did, for every step Levi took, Erwin had already taken another two.

That’s when Levi realized that actions wouldn’t suffice. Not with someone like Erwin. He was going to lose him, and the thought weighed on him more than Levi had ever imagined, for in order to lose something, one must first own it, and Erwin’s was never his to begin with.

“Erwin—“ he began, but before he could even put his thoughts into words, Erwin’s phone rang in his pocket with a call from Hange.

Levi watched him pick the call, his anxiety spiraling as he took a moment to reflect on the words he was about to say, words he wasn’t even aware of until that very moment.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34050205/chapters/117758536

[bookwormscififan]

As If You Were My Own

Read on AO3!

A/N: Booky, why do you want to associate Mare with cherry blossoms? What's this headcanon you have? Well, let's start from the beginning, shall we, with Night first finding the twins and deciding to adopt them.

--

There was a certain… appeal to strolling parks during the new moon. The lack of moonlight added a sense of mysticism to an otherwise bland area people acclaimed as tourist travel points. Shadows were just points of gloom, illuminated only by the stars against the navy backdrop of night.

To Night personally, he never understood how a field of various trees and flora could give people such amazement, but walking down the paths, illuminated by faint starlight, the god realised there was an enchantment to the place that captivated him. He found himself whistling softly as he admired the way the flowers closed their petals to turn away from the darkness, leaves reflecting the dim light as he passed them.

He paused by a large cherry blossom tree, tilting his head to locate the faint cries he heard beside him. Clasping his hands behind his back, Night slowly stepped off the path toward the roots of the tree, pushing aside drooping branches to see two tiny bundles huddled beneath the ivory canopy of blooms.

Swaddled in thick blankets, two pairs of watery eyes stared up at Night, framed by sickly pale skin and tangled mops of jet-black hair. Twins, he realised, barely a year old, holding tightly to each other to preserve the warmth they hardly retained, watching him with red and purple eyes.

“Oh, you poor things,” Night breathed, crouching down in front of them, holding his hands out when they jerked back slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to see if you’re harmed in any way.” Reaching forward slowly, he scooped the two infants into his arms, casting a quick look over their bodies before holding them close to his jacket, catching sight of a small note where the twins had been laying and picking it up before sending them all back to his place.

--

Mare and Phantom, I apologise that I cannot care for you. I hope that you will find someone to love and care for you the way I had wanted. Look after each other.

Night curled his lip as he read the note, glancing over his shoulder at the twins sitting on his couch, wrapped in warm blankets with tiny rompers covering their shivering forms, drinking warm milk from bottles that Day had left over when she walked out on him.

“Mare and Phantom,” Night mumbled, tilting his head when the children looked up in response to their names. “Cold and alone beneath the cherry blossom tree. Whatever will I do with you two?”

Waving his hand, he summoned two small plush toys: a little red dragon and a purple treble clef and set them on the table in front of the twins, waiting to see who chose what. The boy with purple eyes reached for the clef, handing the dragon to his brother, and Night sat on the ground in front of them with a thoughtful smile.

“Mare,” he started, seeing the clef child perk up, then pointed to his brother. “And Phantom. The world is a cold and cruel place, filled with people who are equally cold and cruel. And in the grand scheme of things, you fell into my path.”

Mare tilted his head in confusion, fingers twisting around the tail of his treble clef, and Night paused when he noticed the toy slowly starting to crumble and decay under Mare’s ministrations. Just as he was about to take the toy away, Phantom burped, a tiny cloud of red vapour leaving his mouth and floating into the air, lazily forming various shapes before dissipating.

“Powers,” Night breathed, leaning back and flicking his wrist to summon a cloth to clean the twins. “And at such a young age. Gifted children, barely with control of their abilities. What creatures are you?”

At that moment, Mare’s toy crumbled completely into dust, and the child began to wail, purple smoke crawling up the walls at his cries. Seeing his brother upset, Phantom started to cry as well, and Night watched in curious shock as the pile of dust in Mare’s lap slowly swirled into the air above them, reforming into the treble clef before falling back into Mare’s lap.

The abnormality of the events spurred by the twin’s emotions made Night pause, reaching out to gently soothe the infants, watching as the smoke slowly dispersed as he comforted Mare, pulling the twins into his arms and cooing softly to stop their tears.

“You are wonders of the world,” Night whispered, feeling a strange pull in his heart to protect these children at all costs. “You could bring about absolute peace or absolute chaos, and you need to be trained. Maybe that’s why I found you.”

--

Setting the twins down in the bed of the nursery he created, Night gently brushed a finger over first Mare’s cheek then Phantom’s, letting a small smile cross his face as he watched the peaceful expressions of the brothers. They slept close together, Phantom holding Mare’s clothes in a loose grip as he curled around his brother.

“I will raise and train you to understand how your chaos magic works,” Night vowed quietly, tapping the hanging mobile over their heads to make it slowly start turning. “You need not worry about being alone again, because I will care for you as if you were my own.”

He leaned down to kiss the twins, then straightened up and left the room, making a note to buy food and clothes for his new children, ignoring the warmth that filled his chest at being able to call something his again.

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons @rattyboyisemo

[gaymasonjar]

Will You Meet Me In The Middle?

 Preview of Chapter 8: I Wouldn’t Mind

 There was a clatter in the living room followed by quiet cursing. Alex raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his notebook. He was seated on the bed with his guitar working on a new project. Setting it aside, he grabbed his crutch before making his way to the living room. Michael was using his telekinesis to pull apart the garbage disposal carefully.

 “Did it stop working again”, Alex asked.

 “Yea”, Michael muttered in annoyance. “Should just buy a new one.”

 “We could”, Alex agreed. “Or we could consider another option?”

 “I’m all for emptying our dishes into the trash before putting them in the sink like normal people do.”

 Alex chuckled as he lowered himself down next to Michael. “Not the option I was considering.”

 Michael finally turned to his husband, the disposal still hovering. “Oh?”

 “We never finished the talk we had in San Diego”, Alex clarified. “About moving out of Roswell.”

 The disposal dropped onto the coffee table abruptly as Michael lost his concentration. The alien stood up to pace for a moment. Alex frowned. He wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.

 “I mean, we don’t have to-”

 “No, no”, Michael interrupted. “You’re right. We never did finish talking about it.”

 “So you have thought about it?”

 “I have”, Michael sighed. “I just don’t know how I feel leaving Isobel and everyone else behind. And if Max comes back or something bad happens…”

 “We don’t have to move out of New Mexico”, Alex said gently. “Just out of this town.”

 “I…didn’t consider that.”

 “I do have another property to my name.” When Michael gave him a confused look, Alex clarified, “The cabin near Las Alamos. It’s closer to Deep Sky and it's less than two hours from Roswell.”

 “That’s not a bad compromise.”

 “Plus no mortgage payments”, Alex smirked. “It’s up to you.”

 Michael shook his head in disagreement while sitting back down, “It’s up to us.”

 “So what do you wanna do?”

 “Let’s do it”, Michael whispered before kissing him.

 Alex smiled into the kiss, cupping his face. “One thing.”

“Hm?” “You have to fix that disposal before we can sell the house.”

 “I can do that but first”, Michael pulled him back into a deep kiss.

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

     “Think we’re going to see any action”, Rauls asked from the backseat.  

     “Pray we don’t”, snipped Vasquez as she gave the younger man a hard look.  

     “Kid was just asking”, Johnson commented and patted Raul’s helmet. “It’s not unlikely. We’re heading into hostile territory.”  

     Manes glanced up from his notepad, “Stay on your toes and you’ll be just fine.”  

     “Sir, yes, sir”, Rauls muttered.  

     “What’s our position”, Manes asked York.  

     York shrugged and scratched at his five o’clock shadow with one hand.  “Getting pretty close. I’d say ten minutes, Cap.”  

     “What are we gonna do out here”, Rauls asked.  

     Vasquez rubbed her eyes and cursed in Spanish. She was never a fan of chatty new blood out in the field. It was easiest to wait for orders and just do what you were told.  

     “Confidential”, York supplied. “Just focus on protecting the Captain, your squad, and then your own ass. In that order.”  

     Vasquez gave their own new rookie a pointed look. “Watch where you step-”  

     An explosion rocked the ground beneath the tucks. Breaks squealed as the vehicles came to a stop. The first vehicle in line had been hit and rolled off the road.  Johnson looked out the window, squinting as the dust settled. There was no movement from the vehicle. York slammed his foot on the gas to get them out of there. The downed Humvee was only the start of the slaughter. Before they could process it, an IED hit the Humvee Manes was seated in. The world went white with blinding pain and deafening sound.  

     When everything came back into focus it was sharp and sudden. Alex gasped in a lungful of air before coughing on smoke and dust. The Humvee was on its side. York was gone, the hole in the shattered windshield a good indicator of what happened to him. Alex groaned as he lifted himself up and looked into the backseat-  

 Alex woke up with a sharp inhale and bolted upright in bed. He struggled blindly against the weight across his waist and the top sheet that was soaked in sweat. Michael woke up at the sudden movement beside him. Before he could ask what was happening, Alex had fallen off the bed onto the floor.

 “Alex!” Michael used his powers to flip on the lights as he hurried off the bed. Alex was panting, eyes wide but unseeing. The man was trembling. Michael hesitated before he reached out to Alex slowly. He had seen Alex wake up from nightmares before and he knew how much Alex hated to be touched.

 “Alex. Alex, can you hear me?”

Read More on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45325099/chapters/114982252

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1084: Training Day (Kingdom Hearts)

1:20 p.m. Outside of the Land of Departure: Training Field........

NAMINE......ANGELIC.....SMASH!

'SMASH'

With one, fairly powerful punch from Namine of all people, a stand-in punching bag is seen getting forcefully pushed all the way to the other side of the field l before falling down to the ground as smoke is coming out of the imprinted fist mark she left begin, much to boys' surprise (and mostly dread in Ventus' case).

Chihirty: Amazing..... (Turns to Namine) The force of your punches are getting more stronger by the minute.

Namine: (Has Her Hands on her Knees Before Swiping the Sweat Off With her Arm) ('Whew') And it shows....(Holds her Fist Up as She Place her Hand on Top of her Arm Muscle With a Proud Smile on her Face) Which means my training with Ms. Lockhart is starting to pay off at last!~

Chirithy: You wanna give it another go? I'm liking the name of the punch you gave so far.

Namine: (Smiles Brightly) Thank you so much, ChiChi. And yeah, let's go!~

Ventus: (Eyes Widened as He Watches Namine and Chihirty in the Distance While Sitting Next to Vantias Under a Shade) This is insane......

Vantias: Insane how Namine's strong enough send anything flying or the name of her attack sounds almost as Intimidating as "Final Heaven"?

Ventus: (Turns to Vantias With a Panicked Look on his Face) Yes, on both fronts! Like, I know that she determined to be as strong as her teacher and I'm really proud of her for coming this far with her combat training, but I didn't think she would get THIS powerful! And I STILL don't know how that Final Heaven move of hers works to begin with! Like, does it really take a lot energy and willpower to pull the move off or does she uses both of her fists as ticking time bombs whenever she's in battle?

Vantias: Hey, your guess is as mines. All I know that I am passing up any offer sparring against Little Miss Angel Girl over there.

Ventus: Why? (Gives Vantias a Sly Smirk on his Face) You scared she's gonna sucker punch you again like last time?

Flashback

Years ago after the war between light and darkness has reached it conclusion, Vantias, who somehow revived as well at the time, tries to infiltrate the Land of Departure before getting caught red handed by Sora and the gang (minus Riku, Isa, Aqua, and Terra) shortly after.

He was able to take them all on effortlessly, thanks to his sneaky use of the little power darkness he has at the time and a few capoeira tricks he learned from a street performer he saw the night before.

It wasn't long until he stumbled upon Namine who panicked and screamed out the word "STOP IT YOU JERRRRRRRRK!" as she sucker punched Vantias straight into the jaw hard enough to send him flying from across the room, leaving him unconscious until the crew ties him up and interrogate him.

It was at this moment that Vantias decided to never cross Namine again....as well as finding ways to avoid sparring with her at all cost.

End of Flashback

Vantias: ('Scoffs') As if. I just don't think it'll be a fair match up is all.

Ventus: For you or her? Cuz something tells me that it might definitely be the former.

Vantias: Yeah, well, whatever told you that clearly doesn't know jack shit about how fair match-up works. (Starts Smirking Back at Ventus) Unless you wanna step in the sparring ring yourself.

Ventus: (Glares at Vantias) And get sent flying off to the distance? No way!

Vantias: Oh don't be such a wuss. You could dodge her punches easily if you actually put that feet of yours to good use.

Ventus: I can say the same for you too, emo boy. Or did your break dancing routine is starting to lose steam.

Vantias: Okay, first off, I do capoeira, there's a different I think. And second, just because I'm making a cautious move in not fighting her, that doesn't automatically make me weak. Especially when I can kick your ass just fine.

Ventus: (Immediately Gets Up From Where He Was Sitting) Get real! Have you forgotten our fight at the Keyblade Graveyard!?

Vantias: (Rolls his Eyes) Oh yeah. How could I ever forget the time you pulled a cheap shot at the Near end of the battle?

Ventus: Cheap sho- I beaten you fair and square! If anything, YOU'RE the one who keep relying on your dark power to give you the edge on almost every fight you got yourself into!

Vantias: And that's a problem because.......

Ventus: What do you think!? That, in of itself, is cheating!

Vantias: Subjectively speaking.

Ventus: THAT'S NOT EVEN- (Takes a Deep Breath Before Speaking) You know what? Forget it. You can use darkness, capoeira or whatever you call it, all you want. (Crosses his Arms and Turns Away) Just know that I've beaten you once and I'll be more than happy to do it again!

Vantias: (Slowly Starts Getting Up in Front of Ventus) Is that a challenge request I'm hearing right now?

Ventus: Maybe. And I won't opposed if you accept either. (Turns Back to Vantias) Just don't be too surprised if you end up put to sleep on the ground, cheater.

Vantias: (Puts on a Competitive yet Malicious Grin on his Face as He Summons his Keyblade) I like to see you try and land a hit on me, airbag....

Ventus: (Summons his Keyblade as Well) Glady......

Meanwhile.......

Chirithy: (Helps Namine Takes the Punching Bag Back to It's Original Spot) So how exactly did you came up with the name for that move of yours in the first place?

Namine: Oh it's simple really. One night, when I was in the middle of drawing a fee sketches, I-

Two vicious battle cries simultaneously rings into Namine and Chihirty's eardrums as the two set their attention on Ventus and Vantias fighting one another using their Keyblades in the far distance.

Chirithy: Well, would you look at that? And here I thought those two lazy bones were never gonna train today.

Namine: They look so determined to out best one another. (Places her Hands on Both of her Cheeks While Letting Out a Gasps) Has my hard work managed to inspired them to train themselves?~

Chirithy: Preeeeeetty sure they were arguing again as usual..... (Starts Pouting) I bet it was Van-Van who started it!

Namine: ('Sigh') I'll have a talk with those two later.....(Turns to Chihirty Woth a Determined Smile on her Face) In the meantime, let's resume back to training ourselves. There's so many new techniques I can't wait to try out!~

Chirithy: (Sighs While Shrugging) If you say so.....

@keyenuta

@26shann

@khtext

@cyber-wildcat

@bestpony666

@ma-lemons

[mooooncalf]

going fucking insane because tiktok recommended me a video about remembering certain smells with the damn hozier cover of “do I wanna know” and I want to rip all my hair out and scream because the feeling you get remembering a certain smell and all the memories that go with is the thing that always drives me to almost message people I’m no longer in touch with

Someone at work has a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich and suddenly I’m 17 and we are sitting at the lake at 6 in the morning watching the sun rise because my house flooded and we both needed a friend. I thought we were best friends, I don’t think you ever felt that way.

I walk through an apartment complex and it’s early February , you can smell the cold through the windows and we are passing around the bong talking about all the silly fantasies we had before they broke up, before I ruined things between us

Passing a bath and body works and I’m in the back seat of his car, watching them argue in the front wishing we could all just go back to the room and lay in bed together. We will sleep in separate beds and nobody will say goodnight to each other. I’ll think about the things that happened there forever.

Lighting a lavender incense stick puts me in their house, stripped as much out of my uncomfortable costume as possible, screaming at the tv while they played a round of Mario cart so intense we set the oven on fire forgetting about the chicken

A fresh cut field makes me 18 now, in the same truck, looking at you and telling you I thought about pushing you down the stairs to put us both out of our misery. I missed you then, I miss you now. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to be a good friend. I’m sorry I let some stupid fucking YouTube channel ruin us. I’m sorry if it was bad before that.

Standing in a motel six lobby means I can feel your palm on my cheek. You rub gentle circles into my skin and promise me everything will be okay. You smell like the cigarette you bummed off of him and wasted because you don’t actually smoke. You kiss me and it tastes like hope. I know it will not be okay.

Modelos smells like standing in the kitchen listening to them talk and giggle from the other room, poking my head in occasionally and feeling my heartbeat pick up when they’re excited to see me. You’ll confess to me that night, place your hand on my thigh and tell me that you’re afraid. I’ll tell you we don’t have to rush anything, that I’m happy where we are. You’ll kiss me once before we never speak again.

Wooden cabinets and dishwasher tabs smell like dancing with the music blaring, drunk to the point of sick, and you begging me to kiss you. Singing at the top of our lungs, watching movies all night. The room is heavy with sexual tension. You tell me how he hates you, makes you miserable, hurts you however he can. You say you’re leaving him. We will make plans that we will never go through with. We’re still friends.. but it doesn’t feel the same now.

Chlorine and weed as a combination makes it late summer, music plays softly in the background, it’s nearing eleven pm. I’ll pretend to be friends with your friends to make you happy. You’ll tell me I get you in a way that’s.. different. You’ll put your hands on my waist, my arms, we will hold each other on steps. I remember how you looked at me. I’m sorry I left you there. I wish I could have been the person you wanted me to be.

[yourbonafidelove]

"We are going to teach negligent staff (and those that treat our children like guinea pigs) the true cost of their decisions. Don't forget about Ashley. We aren't going to drop one on her door step but we are going to drop some/them on theirs."

Please don't forget how I was treated at KGH the night I arrived in Kingston. It was disgusting, ridden with Melissas, Ashleys, Orvilles and Waynes.

They didn't spray the Megaffin park field for ticks, To deter homeless people from laying on them.

Where are my birds?

I need zofran or tea the way I needed it the night the Traynor family died.

My birds are gone. There is only 1/5 left at the nest. I knew we would be expecting more eggs/hatchling soon. But I forgot the price of my relocation to Kingston.

I remember sitting in the passenger seat, And being told to look in the back where my Osprey were placed on a tarp. They looked like they were sleeping. At first I hoped it was for tagging or wildlife conservation work. This is not the case this time. Queen's Nursing students got to inject it with cancer similar to overdoing it with a vaccine, so that the body does not become immune --- the cancer and illness takes over. I've already done the math, the cancer is activated to the sound of the sirens or the ring of a bell. First, on the surface of their skin, they are infested with the ticks with clear red backs that infest the ball field.

One is beheaded before the eyes, to show the look of hardened fish roe up the back of their neck, into the brain stem, the tunnels to their eyes and into their beaks -- it falls out like playdough falling out of a toy processor. Fish roe with sushi is sticky and clumps together though, and fluid comes out when the roe is popped. These can be cracked and they fall out, some can be scooped and some can be chiselled. I keep shivering as they are being scooped out, feeling the cancer of my own. And God I am so sick, I am so sick.

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Back to yesterday, I watch but the birds do not come. There is silence at the nest. I laid on my blanket, and had my tin of green and cigarettes in my tin behind my head. I try to cover shiny things so it doesn't get in there eyes. A red dragon fly keeps landing on it and my belongings, and looking at me. I closed my eyes to rest but could not sleep. Something told me to sit up and turn around as Cops in a blue/red/white big stickered cop car goes north on Rideau St. At the same time, one of the Osprey camera men are coming across the field, his partner on the bench is gone, and so is my silver smoke tin. But just then A single adult osprey returns to the nest screaming bloody fucking murder, and continues to scream for a solid 15-30 minutes.

He did not bring food back to the nest, Just an anger like the wrath of God, An understanding, And I don't give a flying fuck about the thieves taking everything away from me, He stomps all around the nest, this bird is literally fucking stomping all around, and then bobbing in his head up and down, And I know he's trying to crack the eggs in his neck while he tries to live. Just live. And our mutual suffering is understood. Do you hear my bird? Can you hear my bird? Can you see my bird? Because there are enough of the birds like mine that immediately recognize our like vibration, and cancerous suffering.

He's bobbing his head cracking the cancer eggs in his neck, The way I need it cracked in mine, The way I crack it in my feet all the time.

The camera man got pictures of me too. It is what it is.

You had time to correct this before I was coerced into covid vaccine, before I lost my home, before I lost my dignity in Kingston --- not because it was gone, but because your disgusting women like the show and you get off on it. Because your disgusting women like the show and you get off on it. The EMS ride from Denny's to Kingston General Hospital, and the treatment by your staff proved it. I'm glad we got the parts you end up killed for on camera. I mean we stopped recording for it, But you'll see. You will see.